■■I 
 
 PiPSSifflfipiiiiftfi's;; 
 
 rl:i
 
 M 

 
 THE 
 
 EDINBURGH ENCYCLOPEDIA, 
 
 OOITDUOTED BY 
 
 DAVID BREWSTER, L.L.D. F.R.S. 
 
 ffl^fth the assfstance of 
 CSEWfTIiEllIElV EIttIIVEr¥T IIV SCIEI\CE AIVD lilTERATURE. 
 
 THE 
 
 FIRST AMERICAN EDITION, 
 
 ©orrectetr antr tinflrobctJ ftg the atrUt'tfon of ttttmrrotts artttlps rclattijc to 
 TIME IJVSTITUTIOJ^'S OF THE ,(lJtIEUICJlJV COJVTIJYEJTT, 
 
 ITS GEOGRAPHY, BIOGRAPHY, CIVIL AND NATIONAL HISTORY, AND TO VARIOUS DISCOVERIES IN 
 
 SCIENCE AND THE ARTS. 
 
 IN EIGHTEEN VOLUMES. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY JOSEPH AND EDWARD PARKER. 
 
 1832. 
 
 William Brown, Printer.
 
 5 
 
 F2 5 
 
 Yi 
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 TO 
 
 HENRY BROUGHAM, ESQ. M. P. F. R. S. 
 
 In completing a work which has formed my principal occupation for more 
 than twenty years, it is not the least of my gratifications, that it affords me 
 an opportunity of adorning it with a name which will occupy a proud sta- 
 tion in the intellectual annals of our country. It has been the lot of few to 
 combine the capacities of a statesman with the highest acquirements in science 
 and literature, and of fewer still to become the founder of Institutions, for 
 dilfusing the blessings of knowledge, and advancing the great interests of 
 public education. 
 
 But even to these objects your powers have not been limited. There is no 
 public measure, whether of science, of humanity, or of patriotism, which 
 has not been sustained by your strength, and recommended by your elo- 
 quence ; and such has been the triumph of your labours, that even those 
 who regarded the diffusion of knowledge with fear, and the amelioration 
 of our Institutions with alarm, are now struggling for the accomplishment 
 of these great objects, and striving to weave a chaplet from your ungathered 
 laurels. 
 
 B* 
 
 1.1.4o349
 
 IV 
 
 A work, therefore, like the present, in which all the great questions of 
 civil and religious liberty have been advocated, in which the unalienable 
 rights of humanity have been pled, and in which the sound doctrines of 
 our faith have been established and expounded, has some right to the shelter 
 of a name associated with the maintenance of these bulwarks of the consti- 
 tution. 
 
 In addition to these public motives for dedicating to you this Work, I 
 may well add those of a personal nature, which spring from a deep sense of 
 your kindness and friendship ; and while I thus express to you my gratitude 
 for the flattering interest you have taken in the scientific pursuits of my riper 
 years, I may be permitted to remind you of those early days, when educated 
 in the same university, and taught by the same distinguished master, we 
 began our scientific labours by the independent investigation of the same 
 properties of light. The ardour of your pursuit often stimulated mine, and 
 if the success of our inquiries was not proportional to the zeal with which 
 they were prosecuted, it must be remembered, that the subject was one 
 where Newton failed, and which required for developement the lights of an- 
 other century. 
 
 DAVID BREWSTER. 
 Allerly, /unc 1, 1830.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 W^UEN the Edinburgh Encyclopedia was first projected, the Proprietors 
 were anxious to distinguish it by two features which had not been exhibited in any 
 similar work published in England, namely, by the Originality and the Selectness 
 of its articles. They were aware that those who considered an Encyclopaedia 
 as a Dictionary in which every thing should be explained and described, whether 
 it was insignificant or important, might be disappointed by the numerous omissions 
 which such a plan rendered necessary ; but they felt that it was only by carrying it 
 completely into effect, that they could render their work a Dictionary of really use- 
 ful knowledge. The original composition of the articles, by persons well acquainted 
 with the subjects which they undertook, ensured, to a certain degree the condensa- 
 tion of materials, and the introduction of the last information and discoveries : while 
 the rejection of innumerable subjects which found a place in other works, enabled the 
 Editor to give to the leading treatises nearly twice the space which they usually 
 occupied. The popularity of this plan of conducting an Encyclopsedia was evinced 
 by the unexampled success of the work. The early numbers of it went through va- 
 rious editions, and the shares of the property were sold at a very high premium. 
 This great success, while it encouraged the Proprietors to spare no expense in the 
 embellishments of the work, naturally led them to the opinion that the limits of
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 TWEi.VE volumes, which they had at first prescribed to themselves, were too confined 
 to give full effect to their arrangements ; and when they found this opinion confirm- 
 ed by numerous representations from the Subscribers themselves, they did not 
 scruple to extend the work to kiguteen volumes. 
 
 The great delay which has taken place in bringing the Edinburgh Encyclopedia 
 to a close, has been a source of serious vexation to the Editor and Proprietors. In 
 the early stages of the work, this delay arose in those mechanical departments of it 
 over which the editor had no control, and to a certain degree from the reprinting of 
 the earlier parts ; but it has been principally owing to the indolence, the ill health, 
 and the deaths of Contributors. In an undertaking in which more than one hundred 
 and fifty Contributors were engaged, such delays were not only frequent in their 
 occurrence, but long in their duration ; and the Editor has been sometimes com- 
 pelled to wait more than six months for the manuscript of articles which had been 
 engaged several years before, and which he had allowed to remain in the hands of 
 their authors for the sole purpose of receiving the latest improvements. At other 
 times the Editor was compelled to reject articles that were unsuitable to the work ; 
 and it was frequently necessary to re-transmit them to their authors for the purpose 
 of being altered or condensed. In justice, however, to some of the gentlemen 
 here referred to, it ought to be stated, that the delay in completing their articles, 
 arose from the great difficulty which they experienced in procuring the requisite 
 materials, and from an excessive anxiety to make their labour worthy of the public 
 approbation. The Editor is far from claiming an immunity from the human infir- 
 mities he has ascribed to his contributors ; but he flatters himself that few of the 
 Subscribers will impute the delay of the publication to any voluntary omission of 
 his, when they are informed that his remuneration, which was not by a salary, but 
 a specific allowance on the appearance of each volume, was retarded and diminish- 
 ed by any stoppage in the publication. 
 
 But whatever were the causes of the delay in the completion of the Work, it has, 
 like every other evil, been accompanied with many advantages. Had the work
 
 PREFACE. VII 
 
 been completed at the time originally contemplated, it must have been deprived 
 of many of the best articles which it contains, written by Individuals of the most 
 distinguished eminence in science and literature. The return of peace to Europe 
 gave a vigorous impulse to scientific inquiry ; and new sciences were created which 
 were not even known by name at the commencementof the work. Two of these, 
 namely, the Polauisation of Light,* and Electromagnetism,! have been 
 fully treated in the latter volumes of the work, the last of these articles having been 
 written by Professor Oersted, the distinguished philosopher to whom that science 
 owes it existence. 
 
 The History of Europe, too, has thus been brought down to the termination of 
 the war between Russia and Turkey, and embraces the fullest details respecting the 
 most eventful period of the History of our species. 
 
 From the same cause the Editor has been able to enrich the last vohimes of the 
 work with the results of the various Voyages of Discovery performed at the expense 
 of the British Government, and even of the latest Journey into Siberia, performed in 
 1829 by Professor Hansteen, for the purpose of exploring the distribution of tlie 
 earth's magnetism. J 
 
 But notwithstanding these exertions to supply, under the later articles of the 
 work, the deficiences which necessarily existed in the earlier portions of it, it is 
 impossible to deny, that there are still some imprefections to be rectified, and many 
 defects to be supplied. Inventions and speculations, which seem to be insignifi- 
 cant at one period, rise into importance in the progress of inquiry, and the names of 
 individuals, at one time obscure, frequently derive a new lustre from the genius of 
 those who carry on and perfect their labours. But, independent of these causes, 
 the interval of twenty years which has elapsed between the commencement and the 
 
 * See Optics, Part I. Chap. VI. and VII. 
 
 ■f'See our Article Thebmo-Electricity, under which the Science of Electro-magnetism is given. 
 
 J See Polar Regions, and variation of the Needle.
 
 VIU 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 completion of the Encyclopaedia, has unavoidably given birth to important events, 
 and been marked by many discoveries and inventions, which it was impossible to 
 introduce under an alphabetical arrangement. The History of the New Govern- 
 ments of South America — the domestic History of Great Britain, France, and 
 other States, and the numerous and splendid discoveries which have extended the 
 boundaries of Chemistry, Mineralogy, and every branch both of Natural History 
 and Natural Philosophy, are still wanting to accommodate the work to the present 
 state of our knowledge. 
 
 With a view to supply these defects, not only in the work now offered to the 
 public, but in all others of a similar description, the Editor has projected, and part- 
 ly prepared, a Supplementary Publication, in which he proposes, in the compass of 
 two such Volumes as the present, to bring down the History of Science from about 
 the year 1810 to the present day- For this arduous undertaking he flatters himself 
 that he has been in some measure qualified and prepaired by his long experience, 
 not only as the Editor of this Encyclopaedia, but as the conductor of a Scietific 
 Journal. 
 
 D.B. 
 Allerly, May 25, 1830.
 
 LIST OF THE AUTHORS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 PRINCIPAL ARTICLES 
 
 IN THE 
 
 EDINBURGH ENCYCLOPAEDIA * 
 
 Fairhead, Giant's Causeway, . . THOMAS ALLAN, Esq. F. R. S. L. and E. 
 
 Aqueduct, Arithmetic, Barometer, Colb, Dyeing,"] 
 
 Evaporation, Fermat, Fermentation, Hvgro- UdAM ANDERSON, LL.D. F. R. S. E. 
 
 METRY, Navigation, Physical Geography, Fneu- ,' 
 
 MATics, and other articles signed (A.) J 
 
 ( CHARLES BABBAGE, Esq. F. R. S. L. and E, 
 Notation, Porisms, ... ^ Lucasian Professor of xMathematics, Cambridge. 
 
 Carron Works, Clackmannanshire, Coal, Culross, | j^qBERT BALD Esq. F. R. S. E. 
 
 Mines (Coal) . . . . } 
 
 Aderbrothock, .... The late Mr. ALEXANDER BALFOUR. 
 
 Anatomy, History of, . . . . The late JOHN BARCLAY, M. D. F. R. S. E. 
 
 Numbers, Ordnance, Planing Engine, Strength ^ PETER BARLOW, Esq. F. R. S. Professor of 
 
 OF Materials. ... ) Mathematics, Woolwich. 
 
 Bounty, Chancery, Civil Law, Common Law, Di- » ^,^g ^^^^ JAMES BELL, Esq. Advocate. 
 
 vorce, Government, LiAW, . . ) 
 
 „_,.,, ( JACOB BERZELHTS, M. D., F. R. S. Associate 
 
 Proportions, Definite, . . . | of the Institute of France. 
 
 ( J. B. BIOT, F. R. S. L. and E., Member of the 
 
 Magnetism ^ Institute, and Prof. Nat. Phil. College of France. 
 
 Oxford, ..... Rev. Mr. BLISS, Oxford. 
 
 Alphabet, Aorist, Article, Character, Etymology, ) The late JAMES BONAR, Esq. F. R. S. E. So- 
 Excise, Hieroglyphics, and articles signed (^.) i licitor of Excise. 
 
 Albino, Galvanism, Heat, Magnetism Animal, Ma- ) jnjjTvj BOSTOCK M D F R S 
 teria Medica, Medicine, Physiology, | ' 
 
 D'Alembert, Almamon, Accidental Colours, Achro-~1 
 MATic, Telescope, Anemometer, Astronomy His- 
 tory of. Astronomy Descriptive, &c. Bailly, Ber- 
 nouilli, James, John, and Daniel, Boscovich, 
 
 Bradley Brake Tycho Buffon, Burning Instru- v^D^yiD BREWSTER, LL.D. F. R. S. L. and Ed. 
 
 ments, Condamine, Condorcet, Copernicus, ' ' 
 
 Electricity,Euler, Expansion, Galileo, 3 Gre- 
 
 GORiEs, Halley, Hydrodynamics, Kaleidoscope, 
 
 Mechanics, Micrometer, Microscope, Optics, 
 
 &c. &c. &c. ... J 
 
 Arabia, Batavia, Bourbon, Bucharia, Buenos Ayres, \ 
 
 Candia, Canary Isles, Cossacks, Croatia, Hun- [• Rev. G. BREWSTER, Leven. 
 
 GARY, Persia, Spain, Turkf.y, and articlessij;ned(p) j 
 Antoninus, Ariosto, Atterbury, Barbarv, Bengal," 
 
 Canada, China, Doddridge, Eugene, Fenelon, 
 
 Florida, Fox, Greece, Guiana, Guinea, Guze- 
 
 rat, Hannibal, St. Helena, Hottentots, How- 
 ard, Hudson's Bay, Jesuits, Kincardineshire, 
 
 Kamschatka, Italy Statistics of, Knox, Laced^e- >Rev. JAMES BREWSTER, Craig. 
 
 MON, Lapland, Luther, Madagascar, Madras, 
 
 Malabar, Malacca, Marquesas, Melancthon, 
 
 Mexico, Morea, Morocco, Moscow, Mi zaji- 
 
 bique, Nepaul, Nicobar, Norway, Otaiieite, 
 
 Peru, and other articles signed {(j.) J 
 
 Chili, and Articles signed (r.) . . Rev. P. BREWSTER, Paisley. 
 
 ' Tliis list has reference only to siirli articles as were oriijinally published in the Kdinburgh edition, the articles which hare 
 been prepared in this country and added to tlie American edition, have generally the names of the authors Jinnexed to each. 
 
 Ed. .em. Ed.
 
 At-cio.MO, Ai-r./iROTTi, Alhvvick, A1.PINI, Ammui;ato, ) 
 and Articles signed (»■.) • • J 
 
 Agriculture, . . • • \ 
 
 AxTRiM Town and County, Antigua, Ahmagh Town \ 
 and County, Birman Kmimke, Ceylon, Missions, \ 
 and Articles si-jned (VV. 15.) . . ' 
 
 Carriage, Coachmaking, 
 
 Annuities, IJorrowing upon, Areopaous, and Articles ) 
 signed (^.) .... i 
 
 Arkwright, Cotton Spinning, and Articles signed (Q.) 
 
 Methodists, .... 
 
 Law of Laurieston, ... 
 
 { 
 
 Mr. DAVID I'.ROWN. 
 
 ROBERT BROWN, Esq. Markle, original Editor 
 
 of the Farmer's Magazine, 
 
 WILLIAM BROWN, M. D. 
 
 II. R. BROWN, Esq. 
 
 Mr. DAVID BUCHANAN, Edinburgh. 
 
 Mr. ROBERTSON BUCHANAN, Civil Engineer. 
 Rev. W. BURNS, Kilsvth. 
 Rev. ROBERT BURNS, Paisley. 
 JOHN BURNS, Esq. M. D.,F. R. S. Profes- 
 sor of Surgery, Glasgow. 
 
 ^THOMAS CAMPBELL, Esq. Author of the Plea, 
 j sures of Hope, &c. 
 
 The late ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL, Esq. 
 
 Christianity, 
 Glasgow, 
 
 Midwifery, 
 
 Anglo-Saxons, Armstrong, Britain, Butler, Burke," 
 Burns, (Jamoens, Ciiatterton, Chaucer, Chur- 
 chill, Cicero, Congrevk, Cowley, Cowper, De- 
 mosthenes, Drama, Drvden, Gray, Greene 
 3 Heywdods, Hoadley, llociARTii, Home, Homer, 
 Horace, Jonson Ben, Johnson Dr. Samuel, Mil- 
 ton, Metastasio, and other Articles signed («) J 
 Acoustics, Amulet, Anamorphosis, Anglesea, An- \ 
 nealing. Alchemy, Annuities, Argyllshire, > 
 Artillery, and other Articles signed (•J'.) & (A.C.) } 
 Montague, L idy Wary Worlley, Montaigne, Monte8-~1 
 quieu, Montfaucon, Moore Dr., Moore Sir John, | 
 
 Necker, Nelson, Netherlands, Newfoundland, )«TH0MAS CARLYLE, Esq. 
 Norfolk, Northamptonshike, Northumberland | 
 Park Muiigo, Pitt Lord Chatham, Pitt William, J 
 
 i Rev. THOMAS CHALMERS, D. D. Prof, of Di- 
 ' * * ( vinily, Edinburgh. 
 
 ( JAMES CLELAND, Esq. Superintendant of City, 
 \ Works, Glasgow, 
 Alcarazzas, Alderman, Almeh, Anciiovv, and other ) jnuTV qt ENNEL Fso 
 
 Articles signed (i) ) ' 
 
 Apprentice, Apprenticeship, Appeal, Arrest, Bo-") 
 rough. Burger, Burglary, Burial, Contract, 
 Conveyancing, Corporation, Court, Chimes, 
 Dante, Defoe, Diderot, Election LavN's, Euri- 
 pides, garrick, Gesner, Gibraltar, Hamburg, )-J0HN COLQUHOUN, Esq. Advocate, 
 Home Lord Kanies, Jones Sir William, Kant, 
 Lessing, RIanece, Millar Professor, Military 
 Tactics, Mythology, Numismatology, and other 
 Articles signed (:.) ... J 
 
 Manchester, .... JOHN DAVIES, Esq. 
 
 Aeronautics, Androides, Animal Flower, Ammal-") 
 cuLE, Antenna, Antiparos, Aphis Apis, Armour, 
 Arms, Ascidia, Asphaltites, Asphaltum, Bee, 
 Boat Life, Bolca Monte, BotanyBay, Cannibals, 
 Castle, Crocodile, Diemen's Land, Dog, Edin- 
 burgh, Embalming, Flying, Funeral, Gems, ^JOHN GRAHAM DALYELL, Esq. F. A. S 
 Giants, Grotto, Gypsies, Han DEL, Harp, Hatch- 
 ing, Haydn, Hermaphrodite, Holland New, 
 Hunting, Incombustible Cloth, Incubation, In- 
 fanticide, Library, Mermaid, Mooak , and other 
 Articles signed (c.) 
 Lanark, Lanarkshire, 
 
 E. 
 
 J 
 
 The late J. DENIIOLM, Esq. 
 Alkoran, Confession of Faith, Consecration Con. | ^^^ ^^^^,^^ DICKSON, D. D., St. Cuthberf. 
 vocation. Deluge, Ji.xcoMMUNloATiiiN. and oilier ■..,,, 
 . ,,• 1 • J , 1 , I t,diiiburf;h. 
 
 Articles signed (a.) ... J ^ 
 
 Lvv-ERNEss, Invernessuire, . . Sir TIlOiMAS LAUDER DICK, Bart. F. R. S. E. 
 
 Annan, Annandale, . . . Lieut. -General DIROM, F. R. S. L. and E. 
 
 Galen, Grammar Universal, Harris, Harvlt. Hei.-"| 
 
 vKiius, Hippocrates, Hobbes, Hauler, Hume, | 
 
 Hunters, Hutton, Ice, Infirmary, Ink. Inocu- )>The 1 e HENRY DEWAR, Esq. F. R. S. E. &c. 
 
 i.ation. Insanity, Iodine, and Articles signed | 
 
 (D. II.) and (H. D.) ... J
 
 XI 
 
 The late ARCHD. DRUMMOND, Esq. 
 Rev. HENRY DUNCAN, D. D. Ruthwell. 
 
 'Mr. JOHN DUNCAN, Glasgow, Inventor of the 
 j Tambouring Machinery. 
 
 Rev. THOS. DUNCAN, M. D. Dumfries. 
 
 THOMAS DUNCAN, A. M. Professor of Mathe- 
 matics, St. Andrews. 
 
 GEORGE DUNBAR, A. M. F. R, S. E. Pro- 
 fessor of Greek, Edinburgh. 
 
 JAMES ERSKINE, Esq, 
 
 Rev. DENIS FERRAL. 
 
 Tlie late WILLIAM EDGEWORTH, Esq. F.R.S. 
 Civil Engineer. 
 
 yRev. JAMES ESDAILE, Perth. 
 
 Angling, Fisheries, and articles signed (A. D.) 
 
 Blacklock, Blair, Currie, 
 
 Belasore Handkerchiefs, Bengal Stripes, Bandanna,") 
 Brocade, Book Muslin, Carpet, Calender, Cali- 
 co, Check, Chain Work, Cloth Manufacture, 
 Corduroy, Cossae, Cross Texture, Damask, 
 Drawloom, and other articles signed J. D. 
 
 Dumfries, Liverpool, Paul Jones, 
 
 Dynamics, ..... 
 
 Archon, and articles signed (D.) 
 
 History of Italy, History of Naples, . . 
 
 Book-Keeping, Dublin, City, . 
 
 Longford, County of, . 
 
 Antediluvian, Anthropophagi, Atomical Philosophy, 
 Atonement, Alexander, Apocrypha, Apamean 
 Medal, Aleppo, Apollo, Bruce, Bryant, C^sar, 
 Circumcision, Cleopatra, Cortes, Cosmogony, 
 Colour, Logic, Metaphysics, Moral PniLrsornY, 
 Perth, Theology, and other articles signed (g-) 
 and {v.) ..... J 
 
 Bedford, Bedfordshire, Chromatics, Comma, Com-" 
 MENSURABLE Intervals, Common Medium, Enhar- 
 monic, Concert Pitch, Concord, Diatesseron, 
 
 Diesis, Diminished Intervals, Discord, Enharmo- ^The late Mr. JOHN FAREY, Senior 
 NIC Organ, Farey's Temperament, Farey's Nota- 
 tion, Harmonics, Intervals, Isotonic System, and 
 other articles signed (f .) 
 
 Block, Block Machinery, Blowing Machine, Boring 
 Machine, Bramah's Machine, Brewing, Button 
 Manufacture, Chaffcutter, Cards, Coining Ma- 
 chinery, Diving, Diving Bell, Drawing Instru- 
 ments, Dredging Machine, Drug Grinding, Filter, 
 Fire Escapes, Gilding, Gold Beating, Hat, Horn 
 Pressing, Jack, Japanning, Lace, J/Amp, Lock, 
 and articles signed (J. F.) . 
 
 Angola, Apostle, Basil St., Beaton Cardinal, Breton 
 Cape, Broome, Browne, Brownists, Camden, Co- 
 chin-china, Dahomy, Forfar, and articles signed 
 (A. F.) 
 
 CONCHOLOGY, CuPAR, ElEPHANT, FiFESHIRE, FoRFAR- 
 SHIRE,FoOLA, Fungi, HYBERNATION,IcHTHyOLOGY, 
 
 MoLLuscA, Natural History, Ophiology, and 
 articles signed (J. F.) and vJ- F. G.) 
 
 Pendulum, ..... 
 
 ^Mr. JOHN FAREY, Junior, Civil Engineer. 
 
 ► Rev. ANDREW FERGUSON, Maryton. 
 
 -Rev, JOHN FLEMING, D. D. F. R. S. E. 
 
 Perspective, ..... ■ 
 
 Glass, Bottle, Crown and Flint, . 
 
 Zoophytes and Zoophytology, . . < 
 
 Gun, Gunmaking, .... 
 Thermometer, Vesuvius, 
 Metallurgy, Metals, Mineral Waters, 
 Observatory, ..... 
 Drawing, Engraving, Miniature Painting, and articles ; 
 signed (P. G.) . . . . I 
 
 Greenland, ..... I 
 
 Dumb and Deaf, .... 
 
 Euclid, Geography, Meteorology, . . \ 
 
 Accusation, Advocate, Advocate's Library, Advoca- ] 
 TION, ..... 
 
 St. Andrews, Butter, DAiiiv, Drowning, Drunken- ■ 
 NESS, Foyers Fall of, (Jolfing, and other articles 
 signed («.) . 
 
 C* 
 
 Mr. ALEXANDER GALLOWAY, Junior, Pro 
 
 fessor of Mathematics, Sandhurst. 
 Mr. ALEXANDER GALLOWAY, Professor of 
 
 Mathematics, Sandhurst. 
 Mr. JAMES GEDDES, Leith. 
 ROBERT GRANT, M. D. Professor of Zoology 
 
 in the University of London. 
 JAMES INNES, Esq. 
 JAMES D. FORBES, Esq. Advocate. 
 ANDREW FYFFE, M. D. F. R. S. E. 
 WILLIAM GALBRAITH, Esq. M. A. 
 The late PETER GIBSON, Esq. Professor of 
 
 Drawing in the Academy of Dollar. 
 SirCHARLESGIESECKE, F.R.S. E.M.R.I.A. 
 
 and Professor of Mineralogy to the Dublin Society. 
 The late JOHN GORDON, M. D. F. R. S. E. 
 Rev. ROBERT GORDON, D. D. F. R. S., Mi- 
 nister of the High Church, Edinburgh. 
 The late JAMES GRAHAME, Esq. Author of 
 
 the Sabbath. 
 
 Rev. JAMES GRIERSON, Cockpen.
 
 xu 
 
 Anguinum Ovum, . . • • The late Mr. JOHN GUNN. 
 
 Plymouth, Plymouth Break Water, Shipbuilding, and \ geORGE HARVEY, Es.i. F. R. S. L. and E. 
 Naval Tactics, ... ) 
 
 T^u^o . . • • • W. J. HENWOOD, F. G. S. 
 
 IsopERiMETRicAL Probleffls, Mathematics, . J. F. W. HERSCHEL, Esq. F. R. S. L. and E. 
 
 Shetland SAMUEL HIBBERT, M. U., F. R. S. E. 
 
 Addison, Alston Dr., Albinus, Alps, America, Amru,' 
 Archangel, Archbishop, Alp-arslan, Celts, 
 
 Cervantes, D«mon, Ecclesiastical History, ^Rev. JOHN HODGSON, M. D. Blantyre. 
 Graham Marquis of Montrose, Hamilton, Inqui- 
 sition, and other Articles signed (/i.) . J 
 
 Adamson, Arbuthnot Principal, Barbour, Bellenden ) DAVID IRVING, LL. D. Librarian to the Faculty 
 John & William, Blackstone, and articles signed (e) } of Advocates. 
 
 ( The late Rev. ALEX. IRVINE, D. D. Liitle Dun- 
 
 Ossian, ..... ^ ,^g,j_ 
 
 Anatomy, Human and Comparative, Aldrovandi, Ant- . 
 
 EGGS, Anthills, Bathing, Cetology, Herpeto- \ The late JOSIAH KIRBY, M. D. &c. 
 
 LOGY, and other aticles signed (/.) J 
 
 AauiTiNTA .... The late Mr. ROBERT KIRKWOOD, Engraver. 
 
 ' . _ , ,„ , . ruT u ( THOMAS JACKSON, LL. D. F. R. S. E. Pro- 
 
 Statics, forming Chap. L of Part 1st of Mechanics. ^ ^^^^^^ ^^ ^^^^^^^ Philosophy, St. Andrews. 
 
 Adelfors, Ailsa, Alabaster, Altai, Alleghany"] 
 
 Mountains, Amber, Ambergris, Ammoniac, Ammo- I ROBERT JAMESON, F. R. S. L. and E. Pro- 
 
 NiTEs, Amphibia, Amphibious, Arran, Diamond, ( fessor of Natural History, Edinburgh. 
 
 Harz, Mineralogy, and other articles signed (r.) J 
 
 CuLDEEs Rev. JOHN JAMIESON, D.D., F. R. S.E. 
 
 Alkali, Aliments, and articles signed {<p) GEORGE KELLIE, M. D., F. R. S. E. 
 
 Berwick, Berwickshire, Coventry, Crimea, Corea, \ 
 
 Cork Tree, Cullen Dr., and other articles signed \ The late ROBERT KERR, Esq.F. R. S. F. A. S. 
 
 (W. K.) and (K. K.) . . . ) 
 
 Selkirkshire, .... WILLIAM LAIDLAW, Esq. 
 
 ( Rev. DIONYSIUS LARDNER, LL. D., F. R. S. 
 Series, Trigonometry, . . . ( L. and E. &c. 
 
 Craniometry, &c. &c. Crustaceology, Insecta, En- j ^jllL^m LEACH, M. D. Esq. F. R. S. F. L. S. 
 
 tomology, .... J 
 
 Annihilation, Animal, Arbuthnot Dr., Archery, \ 
 
 Aristotle, Astrology, Atheism, Ayrshire, 2 J Rev. JOHN LEE, D. D., F. R. S. E. 
 
 Bacons, Brute, and articles signed (A) . j 
 
 Absorption in Chemistry, Aether, Agnesi Maria Ga3-~| 
 
 tana, Air, America, Climate of, forming Chap. II. I JOHN LESLIE, A. M., F. R. S. E. Professor of 
 
 of the Art. America, Analysis, and articles signed ( Natural Philosophy, Edinburgh. 
 
 (x) and {y] .... J 
 
 Music, Organ, Piano-forte, . . Rev. HENRY LISTON, Ecclesmachan. 
 
 Surgery, ..... JOHN LIZARS, Esq. F. R. S. E. 
 
 Romance, . . . . . J. G. LOCKHART, Esq. 
 
 Landscape Gardening, . . . JOHN LOUDON, F. L. 
 
 Bullion, Cecil, Currency, Debt National, Discount, ~l 
 
 Dividend, Corn Laws, Churchill Duke of Marl- | 
 
 borough. Commerce, Company, 2 Coopers, Ex- )'J0SEPH LOWE, Esq. 
 
 change, Etat Major, Eylau, Colony, and articles | 
 
 signed (x) .... J 
 
 Abercromby Sir Ralph, Fletcher Andrew, Gibbon,"] 
 
 Grahame James, Grotius, Gaudaloupe, Kelso, ! t> T)/-»T>T7inrn t TTivrTMi? r- i 
 ■D ' rn ' J J .■ 1 >Rev. ROBERT LUNDIE, Kelso. 
 
 Roxburghshire, Thomson James, and articles ( 
 
 signed {I.) .... J 
 
 Russia, ROBERT LYALL, M. D. 
 
 Arundelian Marbles, Athlet^e, Arcadia, Arthur,"] 
 
 Atticus, Butler Bishop, Cairo, Caledonia, Ca- i ^^ ^ MACARTHUR, Dairsie. 
 
 ligula, Campbelltown, Cann^ and articles sign- j 
 
 ed(E.) .... J 
 
 Cromarty, Deluge, Faroe Islands^ Forts Vitrified, i ^.^ gECRGE MACKENZIE, Bart. F. R. S. L. 
 
 Iceland, LiOYOLA, Koss-shire, Vitrified torts, > i tti 
 
 and articles signed (S. K.) . . j ^"^ ^• 
 
 Breadfruit Tree, Brown Dr., Terminology and Ve."J chARLES MACKENZIE, Esq. F. R. S., F. L. 
 
 IZMr ^Z ''' P '"""^ ^T C ^ S- F. G. S. and late his Ma esty's Consul- General 
 
 Botany, Caoutchouc, Cements, Charcoal, Cho- r , ij ., 
 
 cnr ^ te. Cinchona, and other articles signed (CM.) J Hayli. 
 
 Augsburg, Austria, . . . The late Rev. JAMES MACDONALD, A. M. 
 
 MoDENA, Communicated by . . HisRoyal Highness the Archduke MAXIMILIAN.
 
 Xlll 
 
 Caledonia New, Carinthia, Carniolia, Cashmere, 
 Caucasus, Cayenne, Cheshire, Chester, Cir- 
 CAssiA, Circus, Clare, Corsica, Courland, Con- 
 go, Connecticut, Curacoa, Curdistan, Cusco, 
 Georgia, and other articles marked (K.) 
 
 Kirkcudbright-shire, .... 
 
 Organic Remains, Parallel Roads, Peebles-shire, 
 
 The late Mr. MACLAURIN. 
 
 J. R. MACCULLOCir, Esq. Professor of Political 
 Economy, University of London. 
 
 Perthshire, Phosphorescence, Plague, Poisons, } JOHN MACCULLOCH, M. D. 
 
 Pyroteciiny, Scotland History of, 
 Sculpture, ..... 
 
 Biography, Boyle, Brindley, Burnet Bishop, Bris- 
 
 soT, Le Brun, Brutus, 
 Alexandria, Asia, Denmark, Europe, Hanover, and 
 
 other articles signed («)... 
 
 Meteorite, Mazology, Ornithology, 
 
 Castrametation, Fortification, 
 
 Alum, Antiseptics, and articles 
 
 
 F. R. S. 
 
 D. 
 
 WILLIAM MEMES, LL. 
 I Reverend J. MORELL. 
 
 I Reverend WALTER MORISON, Morbattle. 
 
 ( The late LOCKHART MUIRHEAD, LL. D. 
 \ F. L. S. F. G. S., Prof. Mat. Hist. Glasgow. 
 i Mr. WILLIAM MULLER, Lieut, of the King's 
 \ German Engineers, and late first Public Teacher 
 '• of Military Sciences at the University of Gottingen. 
 ( The late JOHN MURRAY, Esq. F. R. S. E., 
 ( Lecturer on Chemistry. 
 HUGH MURRAY, Esq. F. R. S. E. 
 
 ^Reverend THOMAS 
 
 MURRAY, F. A. S. E. 
 
 D. D. F. A. S. E. 
 
 Acids, Affinity, 
 signed (6.) . 
 
 Athens, Brazil, ..... 
 
 Owyhee, Paris, Pelew Islands, Petrarch, Peters- 
 burgh, Philipine Islands, Poetry, Printing, 
 Poland, Porcelain, Portugal, Prussia, Portpa- 
 TRicK, Pottery, Switzerland, Voltaire, Whit- 
 horn, Wigtonshire, Wine, and articles signed I 
 (T. M.) and (&.) .... J 
 
 .2Etna, Alps, Andes, Candle, Culloden, and articles ) 
 signed (s) . . . . . \ 
 
 Groins, ...... 
 
 Armenia, Assyria, Bactria, Baptism, Bithynia, 
 
 Cranmer, B(eotia, Cappadocia, Car.a, C.licia, ^The late Rev. JAMES NICOL, Traquair 
 Colchis, Corinth, Epirus, and other articles ( > m ' 
 
 signed (N.) and (J. N.) . . . 
 
 DiLLENius, Fuel, Gardening, Lichen, Linneus, Hor- 
 ticulture, ..... 
 
 Carpentry Practice of, Joinery, . 
 
 Boscovich's Theory, Carpentry Theory of. Drain- 
 ing, ...... 
 
 Reverend ANDREW MYLNE, 
 
 Dollar. 
 Mr. JOHN NARIEN. 
 
 }■ 
 
 Thermo-electricity, .... 
 
 Partial Differences, .... 
 
 Planetary Machines, .... 
 Dumbarton, Dumbartonshire, Dumfermline, DuN' 
 dee, and articles signed (A P), 
 
 Parts of the articles Practical Astronomy and Circle, 
 
 Veterinary Medicine, .... 
 
 Bleaching, ..... 
 
 Academy, Curling, .... 
 
 Horology, ...... 
 
 Tain, ...... 
 
 Gunnery, Theory of ... . 
 
 Turning, ...... 
 
 Ratio, . . . . . . 
 
 I 
 
 PATRICK NEILL, Esq. A. M., F. R. S. E., 
 F. L S. 
 
 Mr. PETER NICHOLSON, Arcl.itect, &c. 
 
 ALEXANDER NIMMO, Esq. F. R. S. £., M. 
 R. I. A. Civil Engineer. 
 
 H. C. OERSTED, Professor of Natural Philosophy 
 and Secretary to the Royal Danish Society. 
 
 Reverend G. PEACOCK, Trinity College, Cam- 
 bridge. 
 
 Reverend WILLIAM PEARSON, LL. D. F. R. S. 
 
 \ ALEXANDER PETERKIN, Esq. 
 
 ( JOHN POND, Esq. F. R. S., Astronomer Royal, 
 \ Greenwich. 
 
 WILLIAM PERCIVALL, Esq. 
 
 Mr. WILLIAM RAMSAY, Glasgow. 
 
 Reverend JOHN R VMsAY, A. M. Ormiston. 
 
 The late Mr. THOMAS REID, Edinburgh. 
 
 WILLIAM RITCHIE, A. M. F. R. S. 
 ( The late JOHN ROBISON, LL. D. F. R. S. E. 
 ( Professor of Natural Philosophy, Edinburgh. 
 
 JOHN ROBISON, Esq. Sec. R. S. E. 
 rThe late Reverend ABRAHAM ROBERTSON, 
 < D. D. F. R. S., London, Savilian Professor uf 
 ( Astronomy, Oxford. 
 
 Rev. Mr. SCORESBY. 
 
 Polar Regions, ..... 
 
 Abstraction, Accent, Analogy, Angel, Anger, An-") 
 
 TiciPATioN, Antipathy, Antiquities, Apparition, I nn, i » t> r> onr^rrm a 
 »„ *» T) t> 11 ne late xi. ii.. ouui i, a 
 
 Appellation, Arts, Aurora Borealis, Beauty, > , m -i l .l j 
 
 Berkeley, Bedouins, Blind, Chess, Christina, 
 
 and other articles signed (m.) . 
 Reaping Machine, .... 
 
 Elephant, part of, .... 
 
 Patents, ..... 
 
 M. Professor of Natu- 
 
 ral Philosophy, Aberdeen. 
 
 ALEXANDER SCOTT, Esq. Ormiston. 
 JOHN CORSE SCOTT, Esq. F. R. S. 
 JAMES SIMPSON, Esq. Advocate.
 
 XIV 
 
 Dumfries-shire, Emigration, Irrigation, Poor, 
 Political (Economy, Prejudices, 
 Painting, , . - . . 
 
 Jedburgh, ..... 
 
 Bell Rock, Bell Rock Light House, Edvstone Rock, 
 Inchkeith, Light Houses, Railway, Road, 
 
 Chivalry, Complexion, Cook Capt., Cornwall, Crom- 
 well, Cumberland County, Darien, Denbighshire, 
 Devonshire, Divination, Doomsday Book, St. 
 Domingo, Dorsetshire, Dreams, Druids, Druses, 
 Durham, Town and County, England Statistics of, 
 Essex, France, History and Statistics of, Flintshire, 
 Germany, Glamorganshire, Hampshire, Here- 
 fordshire, Hertford, Hertfordshire, History, 
 Holland, Huntingdonshire, Jamaica, Jews, In- 
 dia, Ireland, Kent, Lancashire, Leicestershire, 
 Lincoln, Lincolnshire, London, Meath, Merio- 
 nethshire, Middlesex, Monaghan, Monmouth, 
 Monmouthshire, Montgomery, Montgomery- 
 shire, Netherlands, and articles signed (W. S.) 
 
 Botany, History of, . 
 
 Musci, ...... 
 
 Abelard, Abyssinia, Africa, Akenside, Alexander, 
 Algiers, Bavaria, Borneo, Bornou, Bracciolini, 
 Buccaneers, Carolina, Education, and articles 
 signed (k) and (m-) ■ 
 
 Distillation, Etching, Filemaking, Fulminating 
 Powders, Fumigation, Furnace, Gas, Gunpowder, 
 Iron, and other articles signed (C. S.) 
 
 Architecture, Bridge, Civil Architecture, Inland Na- 
 vigation, ..... 
 
 Army, Bank, Barclay, Battle, and articles signed (T.) 
 
 Atmosphere, Chemical Constitution of, Black Dr., Che- 
 mistry, Crystallography, 
 
 Antichrist, 3 Antonies, Apocalypse, Arius, Arianism, 
 Arminius, Arminianism, Bayle, Blake, Bourda- 
 loue, Bourignon, Boulter, Buchanan George, 
 Bishop Bull, Calderwood, Calvin, Campbell, 
 Marquis of Argyle, Campbell, Principal, Caracalla, 
 Cardiff, Cardigan, Carlscrona, Carmel, Carni- 
 cobar, Carstairs, Carthagena, Casaubon, Cato, 
 Cork, Town and County of. Chariot, Cumberland, 
 Richard, Dalmatia, Donnegal, Downshire, Dub- 
 lin, County of, Elba, Fermanagh, Galway, Gold- 
 smith, Greenock, and articles signed (r) , 
 
 Aerial Perspective, Buonarotti Angelo Michael, Cor- 
 regio, Guercino, and articles signed (/) 
 
 Orkney Islands, .... 
 
 Carthage, and articles signed J. M. T. 
 
 Enamelling, ..... 
 
 Elephanta, Ellora, Euphrates, Ganges, Gay, and ar- 
 ticles signed (W. T.) 
 
 Newcastle, Norwich, Nottingham, Paisley, and ar- 
 ticles signed (V. V.) ... 
 
 Boileau, Collins, Corneille, Criticism, Crusades, 
 and articles signed (W.) 
 
 Algebra, Arithmetic, Astronomy Physical, Chances, 
 Conic Sections, Curve Lines, Dialling, Epicy- 
 cloid, Functions, Fluxions, Geometry, Interpo- 
 lation, Imaginary Quantities, Locus, Logarithms, 
 
 Steam Drying Machine, 
 
 Egypt, Falkirk, Stenography, 
 
 FlLICES, . • . , . 
 
 Rev. W. SINGER, D. D. Kirkpatrick. 
 
 M, J. C. SIMONDE deSISMONDI, F. R. S. 
 
 Edinburgh, &c. 
 JAMES SKENE, Esq. F. R. S. E. 
 The Late Rev. THOMAS SOMERVILLE, D. D. 
 
 F. R. S. E. 
 , ROBERT STEVENSON, Esq. F. R. S. E. Civil 
 
 Engineer. 
 
 ^Thc Late WILLIAM STEVENSON, Esq. Libra- 
 ' rian to the Treasury. 
 
 i Rev. ANDREW STEWART, M. D. F. R. S. E. 
 
 ( Blantyre. 
 
 i The Late Mr. JOHN STEWART, Lecturer on 
 
 ( Botany, Edinburgh. 
 
 >Rev. ALEX. STEWART, Douglas. 
 
 . CHARLES SYLVESTER, Esq. London. 
 
 THOMAS TELFORD, Esq. F. R. S. L. and E. 
 
 Civil Engineer. 
 WALTER THOM, Esq. 
 
 THOMAS THOMSON, M. D. F. R. S. L. and E. 
 
 Rev. ANDREW THOMSON, D. D. Minister of 
 
 St. George's, Edinburgh. 
 
 > Rev. JOHN THOMSON, F.R.S.E. Duddingston 
 
 THOMAS TRAILL, M. D. F. R. S. E. 
 
 Rev. J. M. TURNER. 
 
 Mr. EDMUND TURREL, London. 
 
 \ WILLIAM TYTLER, Esq. 
 
 \ Rev. W. WADE. 
 
 i JOSIAH WALKER, Esq. Professor of Humanity, 
 
 ) Glasgow. 
 
 1 
 
 WILLIAM WALLACE, Esq. F. R. S. E. Pro- 
 ( fessor of Mathematics, Edinburgh. 
 
 J 
 
 The Late JAMES WATT, Esq. LL. D. F. R. S. 
 
 The Late Rev. JAMES WILSON, D. D. Falkirk, 
 
 The Late JOHN YULE, M. D. F. R. S. E, 
 
 *,• The article on the Commerce, Manufactures, and Finances of the United States, was written by William M. Gome of Phi- 
 ladelpia. His name was accidentally omitted at the end of the article. Tables 56 and 57, which form part of that ardcle, were 
 compiled by Condy Raguet, Esq. — Ed. Am. Ed.
 
 THE AMERICAN EDITION 
 
 OF THE NEW 
 
 EDINBURGH ENCYCLOPiEDIA. 
 
 A. 
 
 A IS the first letter of the alphabet in almost all 
 5 languages, and has probably received this place 
 from tlie facility with which wc utter the sound that it 
 represents. In pronouncing this letter, the lips assume 
 no particular position, but are merely opened to form a 
 passage' for the voice.* See Alphabet. 
 
 The Letter A is also a mark of abbreviation, and re- 
 presents a great number of words, which will be foimd 
 under the article Character. 
 
 A is likewise a word, and is sometimes the indefinite 
 article, and sometimes a preposition. When it is used 
 as an article, it is prefixed to a singular noun, in order 
 to separate one individual from the Genus or general 
 class, of which the noim is the common name. Its sig- 
 nification, indeed, is nearly the same with the word one, 
 and in the French and Italian languages, the numeri- 
 cal words itri, uno, are also the indefinite articles. Al- 
 though the indefinite article denotes only a single indi- 
 vidual of a genus, yet it is sometimes prefixed to plural 
 nouns, as o./c-rv, n hundred. Tliese plural words, how- 
 ever, denote a number of individuals taken collectively, 
 and therefore to this aggregate, or whole, the indefinite 
 article is still applied. See Grammar. 
 
 The letter A seems to be a preposition in the expres- 
 sions, " I wenta-hunting," " Thomas a-Kempis," o-loft, 
 «-hcad, a-foot. In these cases Dr Wallace considers 
 it as a contraction of a^.f But as at has a relation chief- 
 ly to place, Dr Lowth^ regards the word « as a substi- 
 tute for the preposition on. 
 
 Dr Johnson, and all other writers, suppose the word 
 
 * In the English language, it has a more acute sound, 
 than in any other European idiom. When long and ac- 
 cented, it is sounded like the diphthong ai. DuroN- 
 
 CEAU. 
 
 t It is not so, however, in Thomas c-Kempis, and other 
 similar Latinized names of the middle ages, in which a, 
 the preposition of the Latin ablative, stands for the Eng- 
 lish preposition of. Tims, Thomas a-Kempis, means 
 Thomas of Kempis. /(/. 
 
 t And Mr Home Tooke. Id. 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 a to have a peculiar signification in the phrases " ten 
 pounds a-year," " two hours a-day ;" but it is evident, 
 that in these expressions it is nothing more than the in- 
 definite article, signifying one, as " ten pounds one year," 
 " two hours one day." 
 
 A, in music, is the nominal of the sixth note in the 
 natural diatonic scale, or gamut; to which Guido Arc- 
 tino originally applied the monosyllable la. It is like- 
 wise the name of one of the two natural moods ; and is 
 the open note of the second string of the violin, by which 
 its other strings are tuned and regulated. A is like- 
 wise the name of that note in our system which cor- 
 responds with the lowest sound employed by the ancient 
 Greeks ; i. e. the irfoo-A«(«,/3«»ott£vo5 of the hyperdorian, 
 or deepest Greek mode, placed by the moderns on the 
 first space in the bass-cliff. If any numeral figure is 
 added to the letter A, when prefixed to a vocal compo- 
 sition, it denotes the number of voices for which the 
 piece is intended ; thus A 3 signifies for three voices. 
 See Dr Busby's Musical Dictionary, (o) 
 
 AALBOURG,or Aalborg, the capital of a diocese 
 or county of that name in North Jutland. It lies on the ca- 
 nal which joins the gulf of Lymfurl and the sea, and de- 
 rives itsuame from the number of eels which arc caught 
 in the neighbourhood, the word signifying Eel-town. 
 The city is large, containing 14,500 inhabitaiits, and, ex- 
 cepting Copenhagen, is the richest and finest city in 
 Denmark. It has an exchange for merchants, an excel- 
 lent harbour, a considerable trade in corn and herring, 
 and different manufactories of guns, pistols, saddles, 
 and gloves. It was taken by the Swedes in 1643, and 
 1558. The diocese forms the northern extremity of 
 Jutland, and the greater part of it lies in a peninsula 
 made by the sea and the gulf of Lymfurt. The popula- 
 tion of the diocese amounts to 80,872 souls. East Long. 
 10° 5' 10". N. Lat. 57° 2' 57". (ry) 
 
 AAM,or HAAM,aDutch liquid measure, containing 
 128 mingles, equal to 228 English pints. 
 
 AARHUUS, or Aarhusex, the capital of a diocese 
 of that name in North Jutland. It is situated in a fine 
 plain, between the sea and the lake Gudde, which con- 
 vey their waters through a broad canal, that divides the 
 A
 
 2 
 
 ABA 
 
 ABA 
 
 town into two equal parts ; and carries on a good trade. 
 The town is large, containing 11,700 inhabitants, and is 
 the seat of an university. It has six gates, two principal 
 churches, two marliet places, a free school, and a well 
 endowed hospital. The cathedral, which was begun in 
 1201, is 150 paces long, 95 broad, and 45 German cUs 
 high. The diocese, which contains 117,942 .louls, is re- 
 markably fertile ; it is adorned with woods, bays, lakes, 
 and rivers abounding in fish ; and is enlivened by a great 
 number of country seats. The town is situated in East 
 Long. 10° 22' 36". North Lat. 56" 9' 35". (&) 
 
 AARON, son of Amram and Jochibed, of the tribe 
 of Levi, and elder brother of Moses, was the first high 
 priest of Israel. When Moses was commissioned by 
 heaven to release his countrymen from the yoke of the 
 Egyptians, Aaron, who was more eloquent than his bro- 
 ther, was appointed his interpreter. Some time after 
 the deliverance of the Israelites, he and his sons were 
 invested with the sacerdotal office, which was to be 
 transmitted to their descendants in perpetual succes- 
 sion. His facility in yielding to the murmurs of the 
 people, while Moses was receiving the law on Mount 
 Sinai, and making a golden calf, in compliance with 
 their idolatrous desires, was keenly resented by his bro- 
 ther, who would probably have deprived him of the sa- 
 cred character, which he had thus violated, had he not 
 atoned for his transgression by humility and repentance. 
 He does not seem, however, to have ever attained the 
 strong and immoveable faith which distinguished the 
 leader of Israel. On account of his vinbelief at Kadish, 
 he was prevented from entering the promised land, and 
 died in the 14jd year of his age, forty years after the 
 emigration of the Israelites from Egypt. He was bu- 
 ried by his son and Moses in a cave of the iiiountain 
 Hor. See Univ. Hist. vol. iii. p. 354, 429. {k) 
 
 AAVORA, or Avoira, a species of plam tree found 
 in Africa and the West India Islands, which has not been 
 arranged in the botanical systems. The fruit is of the 
 size of a hen's egg, and is included with several more in 
 a large shell. In the middle of the fruit there is a hard 
 nut, abotitthe size of a peach stone, which contains a nu- 
 cleus resembling a white almond. This nucleus is mild 
 and nutritive, and is employed by the natives as an as- 
 tringent, particularly in cases of diarrhoea. The pulp, 
 which incircles the kernel, is eaten by cows and other 
 quadrupeds, and, when macerated, affords an oil which 
 is fit for burning, and useful as a condiment. The tree 
 has been transplanted to Guiana, and is frequently con- 
 founded with the cocoa-nut tree. See La Marck's Illus- 
 trations of Xatural History, Plate 896. (w) 
 
 AB, the eleventh month of the civil year of the Jews, 
 and the fifth of their ecclesiastical year, which began with 
 the month JVisan or Jbib. The month Ab contained 30 
 days, and comprehended part of our months of July and 
 August, or, according to some writers, of June and July. 
 
 The ninth day of thismontli was observed as a fast by 
 the Jews, to commemorate the destruction of the tem- 
 ple by Nebuchadnezzar. It is remarkable, that this 
 event happened on the same day of the year on which 
 the temple was afterwards burned by Titus, and on which 
 Adrian published his edict for prohibiting the Jews from 
 continuing in Judea. Sec (7?^. Hist. vol. iii. p. 36. (o) 
 
 AB ACINARE, from the Italian abbacinare, to dazzle, 
 or make blind, from the root bacino, a basin, is the name 
 of a punishment, in which the criminal was deprived of 
 sight, by holding to his eyes a red-hot basin, made of 
 iron or brass. It appears from Plato, (in Gorgia,) and 
 
 from Labcrius, (apud Jul. Gelt. lib. iv. c. 17.) thai this 
 punishment was very ancient. Robert, duke of Nor- 
 mandy, suffered this punishment from Henry I. of Eng- 
 land. The operation was performed ficlvi cattcUnte et 
 valdc igmsceyitc ajiftosita. Languis in Chron. A. C. 1 102. 
 The same practice is still used among eastern nations, 
 and particularly among the Persians. See An7ia Com- 
 mena. Alexiad, 1. 15. p. 48 ; and Joh. Villancus, lib. ii. cap. 
 13; lib. viii. cap. 36. (t) 
 
 ABACK, in Naval Tactics, is the situation of the sails 
 of a ship, when they are flattened against the masts by 
 the impulse of the wind. The sails may be brought aback, 
 either by a sudden change in the w ind, or by an altera- 
 tion in the course of the ship. By slackening the lee- 
 braces, and hauling in the weather ones, so that the whole 
 impulse of the wind may be exerted on the fore-part of 
 the sails, they are laid aback, either for the purpose of 
 retreating without turning to one side, when the ship is 
 in danger in a narrow channel, or when she has advanced 
 beyond her station in the line of battle, (o) 
 
 ABACUS, from the synonymous Greek word «/3a|, or 
 from the Phenician word abek, dust, is the name of a 
 smooth table covered with dust, on which the first ma- 
 thematicians made their calculations, and traced their 
 diagrams. See Prrsius, Sat. 1. v. 131. Hence it be- 
 came the appellation of an instrument employed by tlic 
 ancients for perfomiing the operations of aritlimetic. 
 
 The abacus generally used, is represented in the an- 
 nexed diagram, and consists of any number of parallel 
 lines drawn at a distance from each other, equal to twice 
 the diameter of a counter. A counter placed on the first 
 
 -o- 
 
 -o- 
 
 -o- 
 
 10,000 
 
 1,000 
 
 100 
 
 10 
 
 1 o O O O— 
 
 or uppermost line signifies 10,000; and two counters, 
 2x10,000 or 20,000. A counter on the second line, sig- 
 nifies 1000; a counter on the third line, 100; on the 
 fourth line, 10; and, on the fifth, 1. When a counter is 
 placed in any of the spaces between the parallel lines, it 
 signifies one halfof what it would signify if it were placed 
 in the line immediately above it; or five times what it 
 would signify if it were placed on the line immediately 
 below it. In the space between the second and third 
 lines, for example, each counter signifies 500. In the 
 annexed abacus, therefore, the counters on the first line 
 will denote 40,000 ; those on the second, 3,000 ; those 
 which lie between the second and third, 1,000 ; those on 
 the third line, 300 ; that which lies between the third and 
 fourth, 50 ; those on the fourth, 20 ; and those on the fifth, 
 4. The whole sum, consequently, which the counters in- 
 dicate, will be 
 
 40,000 
 
 3,000 
 
 1,000 
 
 300 
 
 50 
 
 20 
 
 44,374
 
 ABACUS. 
 
 Instead of the parallel lines and counters, brass wires 
 and ivory balls are frequently substituted. See Hist. 
 Acad, hiscrijit. torn. iii. p. 390. Wolfii Lcxk. Malhemat. 
 p. 171. Phil. Trans. No. 180. 
 
 An ingenious abacus, invented by the celebrated Par- 
 rault, is represented in Plate I. fig. 1. It consists of two 
 plates, PQRS, ABCD ; of which ABCD is the upper- 
 most, and is placed directly above PQRS. The plate 
 PQRS is about an inch thick, and a foot long, and has a 
 numberof grooves, in which the slips of ivory, or copper, 
 kg., lf,Jic, ijd, kc. are moveable in either direction, like 
 the sliding lid of a box. Each slip is divided into 26 
 cqvial parts, by horizontal lines cut pretty deep, and has 
 a figure in every division, except the four middle ones, 
 as appears from the plate. The uppermost plate, ABCD, 
 is pierced completely through by the two openings 
 EF, GH, each being exactly opposite the line of ci- 
 phers, and also by the seven vertical openings, m«, o/i, 
 &c. When the slips of ivory are raised or depressed, the 
 figures will appear in the openings EF, GH, but in such 
 a manner, that the sum of the two figures on the same 
 slip, which appear in the openings EF, GH, will always 
 amount to 10. This slip at N, contains U72its ; the slip at 
 U, tens ; the slip at C, httndi\-ds, &c. In order to move 
 the slips, when the plate ABCD is placed upon the plate 
 PQRS, a sharp point is introduced through the grooves 
 mn, o/i, kc. and placed in one of the cross strokes in the 
 slips of ivory, so that, by a slight oblique pressure, the 
 slip may be either raised or depressed. When any par- 
 ticular figure is wanted in the opening GH, we have on- 
 ly to place the sharp point in the cross stroke of the slip 
 that appears through the grooves mw, o/i, opposite to the 
 figure required, and then move the slip downwards, till 
 the sharp point is at ?z, ovfi, or the bottom of the groove, 
 the required figure will appear in the opening GH. The 
 reason of this may be readily understood by inspecting 
 the figure. 
 
 The pieces of wood, between which the slips of ivory 
 move, are interrupted in their length by a space equal 
 to three of the spaces in the slips, as is represented by 
 the shaded parts above g;/, c, Sec. and the middle of each 
 interruption ought to be exactly opposite the opening 
 GH. The lower surface of each slip of ivory, as T-T, 
 is formed into teeth L, L, each tooth being opposite one 
 of the 1 1 figures, and carries a catch M, with a spring 
 N. By pressing against M, the catch may be made to lie 
 within the slip T-T ; but when the pressure is removed, 
 the spring N forces it out, as in the figure. Now, when 
 the slip is moving in its groove the catch M will be kept 
 within the slip by the pressure of one of the pieces of 
 wood between which it moves, till the catch comes op- 
 posite to the interruption in the piece of wood, when the 
 spring will force it out, so that it will enter into the teeth 
 of the adjacent slip on the left hand, and carry it down 
 one space. 
 
 In order to show the use of this Abacus, let us sup- 
 pose it required to add 8 to 7. In the groove m?z of 
 units, place the sharp point upon the cross stroke of 
 the ivory slip opposite 8, and pressing with the sharp 
 point till it comes to n, the number 8 will appear in 
 the line of units to the left hand of H. When this is 
 done, place the sharp point in the cross stroke opposite 
 7, and bring it also down to n. Instead of 7, a will 
 appear in the line of units at H, and a 1 in the line of 
 hundreds, as the slip which contains the line of hun- 
 dreds has been brought down one space by the catch 
 in the slip of units. Keeping the sharp point still at «, 
 in the stroke which was opposite 7, moye the slip up- 
 
 wards till the point reaches liie very top m, and a 5 will 
 now appear in place of 0, in the line of units at H ; so 
 that the figures in the opening GH will be now 15, the 
 sum of 7 and 8. Whenever a blank space or a ap- 
 pears in the opening, the slips of ivory must always be 
 carried up to the very top of the groove. 
 
 In subtraction, we must put the greaternumber, sup- 
 pose 123, in the opening EF, and if the lesser number 
 be 34, we must, by means of the sharp point placed in 
 the cross stroke opposite 4, bring this figure in the line 
 of units to the bottom of the groove mn, and also the 
 figure 3 in the line of tens, to the bottom of the groove 
 o/i. Instead of the number 123 in the opening EF, wc 
 shall now have 89, the difference between 123 and 34. 
 It must be attended to, however, that whenever there is 
 a in the greater number, we must take 1 from the 
 line of tens, if the is in the Hne oi units, and 1 from 
 the line of hundreds, if the is in the Une of tens : Thus, 
 if we want the difference between 92 and 150, the Aba- 
 cus will give 68 instead of 58 ; and if we want the dif- 
 ference between 1500 and 264, the Abacus will give 
 1346 instead of 1236. 
 
 In multiplication, the same process is necessary as 
 in addition. If, for example, the product of 15 and 15 
 were required, wc bring 5 times 5, which is 25, into the 
 lower opening, by means of tlie sharp point, as before, 
 and we afterwards bring one times 5, or 5, in the line of 
 tens, to the opening; and one times i, or I, in the line 
 of hundreds, to the opening. When this is done, the 
 number 225 will appear in the opening, as the product 
 of 15 by 15. 
 
 In the figure, we have, for the sake of distinctness, 
 represented only one of the slips with teeth and a catch ; 
 but all the slips, except the last kg, have a catch ; and 
 all of tliem, except the first ta, have teeth. A descrip- 
 tion and drawing of the ancient Roman Abacus, may be 
 seen in F. Urzin. Exfilicat. Inscr. Duilliana ; and in 
 Ant. Augustin, Awmwrn. ; Dial. 9. For an account of other 
 arithmetical machines, see Arithmetic, Part III. Gun- 
 ter's Sca/c, Logistic Circles, and Shwanpan. (to) 
 
 ABACUS, in Architecture, is the highest part of 
 the capital of a column, or pilaster.* 
 
 According to Vitruvius, the Abacus originally re- 
 presented a square tile placed over a basket. An Athe- 
 nian woman happening to place a basket, with a tile 
 over it, above the root of an acanthus, the plant vege- 
 tated and incircled the basket, till, meeting with the 
 tile, it curled back, and twisted itself into the form of a 
 volute. The sculptor Callimachus passing by, is said 
 to have taken the hint, and invented the Corinthian ca- 
 pital. See Civil jirchitecture. Qtv) 
 
 ABADA, or Alicorno, a particular kind of ^nld 
 animal from Benguela in Africa. According to D.apper, 
 it has two horns of different sizes ; one on its forehead, 
 and the other in the nape of its neck. Its head and tail 
 resemble those of an ox, and its feet arc like those of a 
 stag. The horn on its forehead is considered by the 
 negroes as a specific in several diseases. Vallisneri 
 has adopted the description given by Dapper as be- 
 longing to a real animal ; but Cuvicr is of opinion, that 
 
 * That part of the capital of a column which sur- 
 mounts the circular part of the same, and which is square. 
 In Grecian architecture, it is always a plain square fillet 
 in the Doric order. The Romans have added moulding. 
 In the Ionic and Corinthian orders, it is a moulded 
 member often enriched. Latrobe. 
 A 2
 
 4 
 
 ABA 
 
 ABA 
 
 the accouiu is fabulous, from tlic want of reseinblauce 
 between Uie abada and every olher animal. See Mo- 
 dern Universal History, vol, xiii. p. 8. Diet, des Sci- 
 ences A'at.; and Vallisncii, torn. iii. p 367. (iv) 
 
 ABADDOX. the name given by St John in the book 
 of Revelations to the king of the locusts, the angel ef 
 the bottomless pit. Some authors suppose him to be 
 Satan ; and the locusts to be zealots, or robbers infest- 
 ing the land of Judea. Others think that it was Maho- 
 met who issued from the abyss, or the cave of Hera ; 
 and Mr Bryant imagines it to be the name of the 
 Ophite, or Serpent Deity, anciently worshipped. See 
 Lowman's Parajthrase on the Revelations, p. 1 19. More's 
 Theological Works, p. 130. (c) 
 
 ABANO, or Apono, (Peter de) one of the most 
 celebrated philosophers and physicians of his age, was 
 born in the year 1250, at Abano, a village in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Padua, from which he received his name. 
 After studying Greek at Constantinople, to which he 
 went at an early age, he repaired to Paris, where he 
 was itistructed m the science of mathematics, and took 
 his degree of medicine and philosophy. His thirst for 
 knowledge seems also to have prompted him to travel 
 into England and Scotland, which he is said to have 
 visited before he returned to his native country. In 
 the year 1302, he was appointed professor of medicine 
 in the university of Padua ; but tJiough this office was 
 created for himself, he soon relinquished it, and went 
 to practise physic at Bologna. His reputation as a phy- 
 sician was so great, that, for every visit to his patients, 
 who resided without the walls of Bologna, he received 
 the sum of 50 florins ; and when he was called to Rome 
 to attend pope Honorius the Fourth, he demanded 400 
 ducats a-day for his trouble. 
 
 The science of astrology seems to have been a fa- 
 vourite study of Abano's. He wrote no less than three 
 works upon this subject ; and we lind him predicting 
 the effects of his medicines, and the fate of his patients, 
 from the aspect and position of the stars. Hence he 
 was regarded as a magician by the vulgar, and was sup- 
 posed to have acquired his knowledge of the seven li- 
 beral arts, under the tuition of seven familiar spirits, 
 whom lie kept imprisoned in a crystal vase. With 
 such superior pretensions to knowledge, Abano could 
 not long escape the notice of the inquisition. He was 
 accused of denying the existence of demons and spi- 
 rits ; and, in 1306, through the malice of a rival phy- 
 sician, he was denounced before the inquisitorial tribu- 
 nal as guilty of necromancy and divination. By the 
 powerful influence of his friends, the severity of his 
 judges was softened, and he was acquitted of the charges 
 which malevolence had preferred. This disappoint- 
 ment, however, did not extinguish the hostility ol his en- 
 emies : the philosophical studies, and the liberal senti- 
 ments of .\bano, supplied them with fresh sources of 
 accusation ; and as if the crime of necromancy had not 
 appeared sufficiently heinous, thev preferred the more 
 popular and destructive charges of heresy and atheism. 
 Again dragged before the inquisition, and anticipating, 
 probably, the issue of his trial, the health and spirits of 
 Abano began to decline, and death rescued him from 
 the grasp of his enemies in 1315, at the age of sixty-six. 
 But even deadi did not disarm the malignant fury of his 
 persectitors. The holy inquisitors sat in judgment on 
 his lifeless corpse ; and, as if the spirit that had fled 
 from its cold tenement had been sensible to suffering, 
 they condemned the body to be consigned to the flames ; 
 and threatened, with excommunication, the magistrates 
 
 of Padua, unless they put in execution the baibarous- 
 sentence. The body of Abano, however, had been rais- 
 ed by an affectionate domestic from its place of inter- 
 ment in tlic church of St Anthony, and concealed in a 
 sepulchre that happened to be open in the church of St 
 Peter. When the inquisitors found that the body had 
 been carried off, they threatened vengeance against eve- 
 ry person concerned in the transaction : but the magis- 
 trates of I'adua opposed this barbarous excess of rigour ; 
 and the inquisition was satisfied with the impotent pa- 
 rade of burning Abaiw in effigy in the market-place of 
 Padua. The corpse was afterwards transferred to the 
 church of St Augustine ; where a sepulchral stone 
 still marks the spot in which the persecuted body of 
 Abano was at length suffered to repose. 
 
 While Abano remained at Paris, he composed his 
 principal work, intitled, Conciliator diffvrcntiarum Phi- 
 losojihorum et firecijiue JMcdicoriun, which was first pub- 
 lished at Venice in 1471. It was reprinted at Mantua 
 in 1472, and though it has passed through many editions 
 it is now very scarce. His other works are, 1. De 
 Venenis eorumijue remediis, Mantua, 1472. 2. Exfio- 
 sitio Problemalum Aristotelia, Mantua, 1475. 3. La 
 Fisiojiomie dii Conciliator Pierre de A/iono, Pad. 1474. 
 4. Astrolabium Pla7ium in tabulis ascende?is, Sec. Venet. 
 1502. 5. Text us Mesne noviter emendatus, Venet. 
 1505. 6. Geoniantia, Venet. 1549. 7. Dioscorides di- 
 gcstus Aljdiabetico ordinc Sec. Lugdun. 1512; and a 
 number of other works on astrology and magic, which 
 are too trifling to be mentioned here. (^) 
 
 ABANTES, a warlike people, who emigrated from 
 Thrace into Phocis, a Grecian province, where they 
 founded a city, and called it Aba, after the name of their 
 leader. They afterwards went to Euboea, an island 
 on the eastern coast of Greece, which was tlience call- 
 ed Abantias, or Abantis. The Abantes were a brave 
 people, and always came to close combat with their 
 enemies. They wore their hair long behind, but had 
 it cut short before, in order to prevent it from being 
 seized by their adversaries in battle. See the Iliad, 
 lib. ii. v. 542 ; Strabo,X.om. ii. p. 682 ; Herodot. i. c. 146 ; 
 Unix'ers. Hist. v. 8. p. 375. (o) 
 
 ABAPTISTA, a tenn employed by some surgeons 
 to denote a conical saw, with a circular edge, which was 
 used for perforating the skull. The cylindrical form of 
 this instrument is now preferred ; and various improve- 
 ments have been suggested, for preventing any dan- 
 gerous consequences from this delicate operation. A 
 new instrument of this kind, in which no centre pin is 
 necessary, has been invented by Mr Rodman of Paisley, 
 and is described inthe7V«7. Mag. for April 1802. Ano- 
 ther trepanning instrument has been invented by S. Cro- 
 ker King, Esq. who has given an account of it in the 
 Transactions of the Royal Irish Academy, vol. iv. Sec 
 Chesselden's Observations on Le Dran, p. 447 ; and 
 ?>('//««, Surgery Index, (to) 
 
 ABARCA, or Avarc.v, the name of a shoe used 'v.\ 
 Spain, chiefly by travellers and shepherds, for wander- 
 ing among the mountains. It was made of the raw skins 
 of goats or oxen, and bound together with cords. Sanc- 
 tius, king of Navarre, who reigned about 905,received die 
 surname of Abarca, from having furnished his troops 
 with this kind of shoe, in order to cross over the snowy 
 Alps. See Rodcric Toletan. de Keb. His/ian.l. 5.ca.p. 22. (^rj 
 
 ABARIS, the philosopher, a native of Hyperborean 
 Scythia, and the son of Seuthus. The period when 
 he flourished is extremely doubtful, (Bishop Lloyd's 
 Chronological Account of Pijthagoras, v. 7.) and his
 
 ABA 
 
 ABB 
 
 history is so completely involved in fables, that Hero- 
 dotus himself did not venture to record them. This 
 historian contents himself with relating; the story of his 
 carrying an arrow through the world, and living with- 
 out any sustenance, (Lib. iv. cap. 36. p. 296. edit. Wes- 
 selingii.) Herodotus, it would appear, was unacquainted 
 with the most marvellous parts of the story ; for Jam- 
 blichus, who pretends to better information, affirms, 
 that, upon this arrow, which Abaris had received from 
 the Hyperborean Apollo, he was conveyed through the 
 air, like a witch on a broom-stick. (Ki/a Pythagorx, p. 
 128.) At an advanced age, his countrymen sent him to 
 Athens, in the character of an ambassador (Harpocra- 
 tionis Dictionariu/n in decern liheiurcs, voce aCu^h.); and, 
 according to Strabo, (tom. i. p. 462) he recommended 
 himself by his politeness, eloquence, and wisdom, to the 
 esteem of the learned men of Greece. Having traver- 
 sed various countries, he returned home, in order to 
 consecrate the gold, which he had collected, to the 
 Hyperborean Apollo ; lor he was one of the priests of 
 this divinity. In his progress, he is reported, by 
 Porphyry and Jamblichus,to have visited Pythagoras in 
 Italy ; and to have been favoured with a sight of his 
 golden thigh. That he was contemporary with this 
 philosopher, is very far from being certain ; but he at 
 least appears to have been as great an impostor as him- 
 self. Some of the ancients considered him as a conjurer ; 
 others with greater justice, as a mere cheat. Suidas 
 mentions him as the author of various works. Mr Toland 
 supposes Abaris to have been a druid, and a native of 
 the Hebrides. (Post/iumous iror/cs,\o\.i. p. 161.) The 
 same strange hypothesis has been adopted by the in- 
 dustrious Mr Carte {Hist, of Ktigland, vol. i. p. 52.); 
 but it involves so many absurdities, that it seems hardly 
 intitled to a serious refutation. We shall only oppose 
 it by asking a single question. Himerius, the sophist, 
 (a/iud Photium, p. 1136.) extols Abaris for speaking- 
 pure Greek, which he is said to have acquired by means 
 of the intercourse between the Greeks and Hyper- 
 boreans. Did such a frequent intercourse subsist many 
 hundred years before Christ, between the inhabitants of 
 Greece and the Hebrides ? The most curious account 
 of Abaris is to be found in Bayle's Dictionnaire His- 
 lorique et Cricitjue. See also Bruckeri Historia Crilica 
 Philosofihiie. (e) 
 
 ABAS, a Persian weight for weighing precious 
 stones, one-eighth less than the European carat, {tv) 
 
 ABASCIA,or ABCAS,a district of Georgia, tributary 
 to the Turks, bounded on the cast by Mingrelia, on the 
 north and west by Black Circassia, and on the south by 
 the Black Sea. The women arc remarkably beautiful, 
 and the men active and robust. They arc, however, 
 poor, and treacherous in their dealings, and live in con- 
 stant dread of one another; since the strong seize the 
 helpless females, and sell them as slaves to the Turks. 
 They trade in furs, buck and tiger skins, linen yarn, 
 boxwood, bees-wax, and honey ; but their chief traffic 
 consists in selling their own children. Anacopia is 
 the capital of the district. This district lies between 
 39° and 43° E. Long, and 43° and 45° N. Lat. {o) 
 
 ABATIS, in military tactics, is a fence composed of 
 a number of felled trees, thrown together either Icngh- 
 wise,or with their branches interwoven, for the purpose 
 of obstructing roads, guarding intrenchments, or cover- 
 ing the passage of a river, (to) 
 
 ABAUZIT, FiRTwiN, a Frenchman of considerable 
 learning, was born at Uscz, in Languedoc, on the 1 Ith 
 
 November, 1679. To avoid the persecutions to which 
 Protestants were then exposed, his mother carried him 
 into Switzerland, after the decease of his lather, where 
 he prosecuted the studies of physic and theology. He 
 visited Holland in 1698, and became acquainted with 
 some of the eminent literati of that period, such ah 
 Bayle, Jurieu,and Basnagc. He then visited England, 
 and was introduced to sir Isaac Newton, with whom he 
 afterwards entered into an epistolary correspondence. 
 The intimacy of Abauzit with this illustrious philoso- 
 pher, was owing to his defence of Newton against Cas- 
 t^l, and to his having detected an error in the Princi/iici. 
 King William HI. invited him to settle in England ; but 
 this offer he declined. In 1723, he refused the profes- 
 sorship of philosophy in Geneva; but was, in 1726, ad- 
 mitted a citizen, and appointed librarian of that cit) . 
 Here his learning, piety, and simplicity of manners, ac- 
 quired him the estimation of his fellow-citizens, who 
 deeply regretted his death, which happened on the 20th 
 March 1767. '' 
 
 Abauzit was the author of some mathematical works, 
 defending the doctrines of Newton ; and also of several 
 theological tracts. From his desire to divest the scrip- 
 tures of mysteries, he employed himself in discovering 
 what he supposed errors in the different translations. 
 He wrote an essay on the Apocalypse, endeavouring to 
 demonstrate, that the predictions there contained were 
 applicable to the destruction of Jerusalem. But, in con- 
 sequence of a translation of this work into English, to 
 which a satisfactory refutation was added, he suppres- 
 sed a new edition, which was then prepared for the 
 press. Abauzit was honoured with the friendship and 
 esteem of Voltaire and Rousseau, the latter of whom ad- 
 dressed to Abauzit a handsome eloge in the highest 
 strain of panegyric, (c) 
 
 ABBADIE, James, a Protestant divine of eminence, 
 born at Nay, in Berne, between 1650 and 1660. He 
 went into Holland, Germany, and Prussia, and was ap- 
 pointed minister of the French church in Berlin. He 
 came into England with the prince of Orange ; and, af- 
 ter being appointed minister of the French church ui 
 the Savoy in London, he was promoted to the deanery 
 of Killaloe, in Ireland. His discourses, in the pulpit, 
 were admired as the finest specimens of eloquence ; and 
 his memory is said to have been So great, that he com- 
 posed all his works before they were committed to wri- 
 ting. He died in 1727. Besides theological works, he 
 published a defence of the Revolution, and a panegyric 
 on Mary, queen of England, printed at the Hague, 
 1695. (c) 
 
 ABBE , the name of a class of persons in France, 
 who have not obtained a fixed settlement, cither, in 
 church or state. They were not in orders, but, having 
 undergone the ceremony of tonsure, were intitled to 
 certain privileges in the church. Their dress is ra- 
 ther academical than ecclesiastical ; and they are gene- 
 rally employed as tutors in colleges and private fami- 
 lies. Many individuals of this order liave been among 
 the brightest ornaments of science and literature, (to) 
 
 ABBESS, the superior of a nunnery, or, more par- 
 ticularly, a nun invested with an abbacy. By the coun- 
 cil of Trent, it was decreed, that an abbess must be at 
 least forty years of age ; and that she should receive 
 the veil of prelacy at the age of sixty. She is elected 
 from the sisterhood of her own order ; and, after her 
 election is read aloud, she prostrates herself on the 
 carpet, before the great altar, and the sisters begin the
 
 ABB 
 
 ABB 
 
 litany. The bishop of the diocese then delivers to her 
 the pastoral staff, will) these words: — "Receive this 
 pastoral staff ; to be borne before the flock, committed 
 to your charge, as a warning ol' just severity and cor- 
 rection." The power of an abbess, over her convent, 
 resembles that cl' an abbot ; but she does not perform 
 the spiritual functions. Formerly some were accus- 
 tomed to give the veil to nuns ; but this was after- 
 wards judged unlawful. It was also usual for the ab- 
 besses to confess ; but, it is said, that their curiosity led 
 them to such an extent, that it was necessary to check 
 that practice. The presence of the abbess, during ccql 
 fcssion is allowed by St Basil. In France and Italy, 
 many were exempted from Episcopal Jurisdiction, and 
 some had the privilege of commissioning a priest to 
 act for thenl in performing the spiritual functions. See 
 St Basil, Regies abrcgei-s, Interrog. 1 10. torn. ii. p. 453. 
 Fleury. I/isi. au Droit Ecclesiast. and Bibliotli. Crit. cle 
 M. dc SaiNJOTf, to^jS i. p. 6. (c) 
 
 ABBEVILLE, a large town m France, in the depart- 
 ment of the Sommc. It is pleasantly situated in a fer- 
 tile valley, where the river Somme separates itself into 
 several branches, and divides the town into two parts. 
 The town is fortified, and the walls are flanked with 
 bastions, and incircled with wide ditches. From the 
 circumstances of its never having been taken, it is call- 
 ed the Maiden Town, and assumes the motto of semper 
 Jidelis. The woollen manufactory, which was establish- 
 ed here in 1 665, under the auspices of Colbert, has pro- 
 duced stuffs little inferior to those of England and Hol- 
 land ; but tliC success of this manufactory has been part- 
 ly owing to the clandestine importation of English and 
 Irish wool, and to the mgenuity of British workmen. 
 By means of the Spmnie, in which the tide rises about 
 six or seven feet, the inhabitants carry on a considera- 
 ble trade in grain, hemp, flax, sail-cloth, coarse linens, 
 cordage, oil, and black and green soap. The town, 
 which is rather of a mean appearance, contains 18,052 
 inhabitants, and the two cantons, 22,004. Its territory 
 comprehends 107| kiliometres, and 13 communes. It 
 has a collegiate church, and 13 parish churches, with a 
 number of monasteries and nunneries. Its distance 
 from Paris is 45 French leagues N. W. its Long. 1° 
 49' 45" E. and Lat. 50° 7' 1" k. See L' Histoire Gene- 
 alogique des Comfites de Ponthieu. Paris, 1657. (o) 
 
 ABBEY, a religious house, governed by an abbot, or 
 abbess. In Britain, religious houses were of various 
 denominations, such as abbeys, priories, and hospitals ; 
 and differed chiefly in the extent of their possessions, 
 powers and privileges. At first, the endowments of 
 abbeys were probably but of limited extent ; but they 
 afterwards acquired immense tracts of territory, pur- 
 chased either by means of their own treasures, or ob- 
 tained I)y pious donations from otliers; given under the 
 condition of burning a taper on the tomb of the donor, 
 or of celebrating solemn masses for the repose of his 
 soul. The property, thus bestowed, could not return 
 to the laity ; as many canons prohibited the alienation 
 of the property of the church. Certain statutes are 
 therefore said to have been enacted against these gifts 
 in mortmain; and, in several grants to laymen, the 
 grantees were prohibited from selling to monks, and 
 particularly to Jews. From simple places of retirement, 
 where the devout withdrew to the exercise of religious 
 meditation, abbeys, by the gradual accession of riches, 
 were at length converted into palaces ; luxuiy was in- 
 troduced, and, along with it, dissipation and vice. The 
 
 gjrogrcss of the Protestant religion gradually under- 
 mined the Catholic superstition. The populace beheld 
 their possessions with a jealous eye, wliilc they could 
 discover no indications of any charitable jjurpose to 
 which they were applied. The Catholics in England 
 were nearly rooted out in the reign of Henry VIII., and 
 those in Scotland a few years afterwards ; and their 
 possessions were siczcd upon by the crown, or by those 
 subjects who had influence to obtain a share for them- 
 selves. At this day, their property is either in the 
 hands of the crown, or held by private individuals. 
 
 Certahi abbeys enjoyed extraordinary privileges. 
 They were allowed to coin money; and an extensive 
 jurisdiction was conferred upon them, in virtue of 
 which, the abbot, by his deputy, could even try offen- 
 ders for capital crimes committed within the territories 
 of the abbey. Some could export every thing pro- 
 duced within their bounds, free ot duty ; while others 
 were exempted from the power of the bishop of the 
 diocese. Several abbeys obtained bulls from the pope, 
 declaring, that they should he liable for no debts, unless 
 it were proved, that the money borrowed was expressly 
 converted to the use of the community. The abbots, 
 who ruled many of the abbeys in Britain, had the privi- 
 leges of lords of parliament. Tweniy-nhie are enume- 
 rated, who, in England, had a seat in the House of 
 Lords; but this honour was taken from the order in 
 1540. In nunneries, subservient to abbeys, the abbot 
 could elect the superior. 
 
 There were many offices in abbeys, besides that held 
 by the abbot ; such as that of prior, sub-prior, chamber- 
 lain, treasvu'er, almoner. Sec; aid the duties oi these 
 persons were all regulated with the greatest punctuali- 
 ty. There was likewise a master of the novices, whose 
 province it was to instruct them in the rules of their 
 order ; and, by the Benedictine constitutions, a master 
 was to be provided for teaching granmiar, logic, and 
 philosophy. There were also lay teachers ; and monks 
 themselves sometimes travelled from house to house, 
 giving instructions in music and singing 
 
 Monasteries were the sole abode of the sciences cul- 
 tivated in ancient times. We are indebted to monks 
 alone, for the histories of our forefathers, which have 
 been transmitted to the present day ; and we cannot 
 sufficiently regret the destruction of their libraries, 
 which fell a sacrifice to the religious zeal of the reform- 
 ers, as there were no other places that, for succes- 
 sive ages, had been a secure deposit for historical re- 
 cords, and the learning of antiquity. Hence, though 
 we may hail the overthrow of popery in these king- 
 doms, as an event which cannot be too highly prized, we 
 must lament the losses which literature has sustained in 
 the general devastation. Besides the library, there was 
 in the abbey a writing-room ; and it is well kno\^Ti, that 
 the most beautiful manuscripts now existing were writ- 
 ten by monks ; some of which, of immense extent, are 
 adorned with such splendid illuminations, and written 
 with so much care, that it would seem to have required, 
 almost a lifetime for their execution. 
 
 Monasteries afforded a welcome asylum to those who 
 wished to forsake the active toils of life, and a tranquil 
 retreat to persons of dignified birth, in indigence or 
 old age. They supported the poor, received pilgrims, 
 and afforded entertainment to travellers. Perhaps it 
 may be the subject of just regret, that Uiere are at 
 this day no institutions of a similar nature in Britain, 
 which might afford a secure retixat to persons, parti-
 
 Mb 
 
 OT. 
 
 cularly females, whom fortuitous events have prevented 
 from holding their proper place in society. See Mo- 
 
 NASTEIIV. (f) 
 
 ABBOT, tiie superior of an abbey of monks, and 
 next in dignity to a bishop. This ai)pcllution, signify- 
 ing fatlicr, is derived from the Hebrew, and was an- 
 ciently applied to all monks. The rulers of the early 
 monasteries assumed the title of Abbot, or Archiman- 
 drite. Some of the ancient French peers, and even 
 several of their sovereigns, are mentioned in history 
 under the denomination of Abbots ; probably from en- 
 joying particular possessions, similar to the ecclesias- 
 tical principalities of modern times. 
 
 Anciently, abbots were subject to the bishops, or or- 
 dinary pastors, and took no share in ecclesiastical af- 
 fairs, because their dwellings were in remote places. 
 But their manners soon changed : They gradually be- 
 gan to usurp power; they aspired to tlie rank of pre- 
 lates, and aimed at independence of the bishops, in 
 which many of them succeeded. 
 
 Abbots, intitled to wear the episcopal badges, such 
 as the mitre or ring, or exercise episcopal authority, 
 were denominated mitred abbots. Others, from bearing 
 the pastoral staff only, were called crosiered abbots ; 
 others, ecumenical abbots; and some, from their supe- 
 riority over all others, were styled cardinal abbots. In 
 the Roman Catholic countries, rcg-Kfa;- abbots are those 
 who take the vows and wear the habit of the order: 
 commendatory abbots, on the other hand are seculars, 
 who have received tonsure, but must take orders at a 
 certain age. 
 
 In Britain, the abbot was an ecclesiastic of great 
 power and dignity : When visiting a monastery, he 
 was received by a procession of monks ; and he could 
 confine those of his own monastery in a strong prison, 
 called the " lying house," appropriated for great of- 
 fenders. Monks, after liaving been beaten even to a 
 plentiful effusion of blood, have by his order been con- 
 fined in that dungeon. 
 
 Much ceremony was used at tlie election and bene- 
 diction of an abbot, and gorgeous feasts were given at 
 their installation. Their public dress was the Dalmatic 
 or seamless coat of Christ, the mitre, crosier, gloves, 
 ring, and sandals ; and those in parliament wore an 
 elegant robe. At an abbot's decease, his seals were 
 broken on one of the steps before the great altar. He 
 lay in the middle of the choir, arrayed in his pontifi- 
 cals, until the third day ; and was then buried in this 
 attire, bearing his crosier in his hand. See Helyot 
 Histoire des Ordres Monastiques. Martene de Antiqids 
 EcclesiiX Ritibus. Dugdale J\'Ionasticon Ang-licanum. 
 Fosbrooke's English Monachism. Hume's Hist. vol. iv. 
 p. 184, 186, 207. (c) 
 
 ABBOT, George, archbishop of Canterbury, was 
 the son of a cloth-worker at Guildford, in Surrey, 
 where he was born on the 29th day of October, 1562. 
 While yet a child he displayed a quickness of appre- 
 hension, and an extent of capacity, which seemed to 
 mark him out for future eminence. His fatlier, ambi- 
 tious to cultivate his genius, resolved to educate him 
 for the church, which, to a person of his narrow for- 
 tune, seemed to afford tiie fairest prospect of advance- 
 ment. Accordingly, youna,' Aljbot, after receiving tlie 
 first rudiments of literature in his native town, was, at 
 the age of sixteen, entered a student of Baliol College 
 in Oxford. Passing througli the rc:;ular course of gra- 
 duation, he, in a few years after, took orders, and dis- 
 
 tinguished himself as a preacher, by the energetic 
 eloquence of his discourses. Nor did his talents and 
 acquirements excite alone the admiration of his lite- 
 rary associates; tiiey procured him a more important 
 advantage, the favour of the great. Under the patron- 
 age of the earl of Dorset, he was thrice elected vice- 
 chancellor of the miiversity; and a])pointed first to the 
 d^iery of Winchester, and afterwards to tliat of Glou- 
 c^cr. Wiien the translation of the Bible \vas under- 
 taken by the direction of king James, Dr Abljot was 
 the second of eight learned divines in the university of 
 Oxford, who were intrusted with the charge of trans- 
 latuig the Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles. Ho\\ 
 ably the task was executed, is sufficiently known by 
 every one who has compared their jjjrersion with the 
 original. 
 
 After the death of the carl of Dorset, Abbot became 
 chaplain to George Hume, earl of Dunbar, whom he 
 accompanied to Scotland in 1608, to assist him in esta- 
 blishing an union between the Scottish and English 
 churches. The prudence and moderation which he 
 displayed in conducting this delicate business, raised 
 him very high in the estimation of the king, who seem- 
 ed to tiiink no preferment too great for his services. 
 On his return to England, he was appointed bisliop of 
 Litchfield and Coventry ; in this situation he had re- 
 mained only two months when he was preferred to the 
 see of London ; and next year he was consecrated arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury. Abbot had the singular felicity 
 of reflecting, that these high rewards were a just and 
 spontaneous tribute to his virtues. He had never 
 courted patronage by any unworthy compliance with 
 the desires of those who had preferments to bestow ; 
 nor could even the gratitude which he would naturally 
 feel towards his sovereign for his present high eleva- 
 tion, betray him into one departure from that purity and 
 rectitude which became his sacred character. When 
 James, misled by his partiality to the unprincipled Ro- 
 chester, was solicitous to procure a divorce between 
 lady Frances Howard and the earl of Essex, the arch- 
 bishop resisted it with intrepid firmness. On a subse- 
 quent occasion, when the royal decree for the permis- 
 sion of sports and pastimes on Sunday, was to be pro- 
 claimed at Croydon, he ventured to prohibit it from 
 being read. In short, he maintained in all his conduct 
 an inviolable regard for religion, which, combined with 
 his exalted talents, gained him the esteem and confi- 
 dence even of those whom he found it his dutv to op- 
 pose ; insomuch that all the great transactions of church 
 and state were, in a certain degree, regulated by his 
 counsels or his influence. Zeal for the Protestant re- 
 ligion induced him eagerly to promote the union be- 
 tween the Elector Palatine and the princess Elizabeth; 
 and the same motive prevented him from agreeing to 
 the resolution which the king had formed of marrying 
 the prince of Wales to the infanta of Spain. 
 
 Amidst these public avocations, the duties of private 
 beneficence were by no means forgotten. He had long 
 meditated the erection of an hospital in bis native town ; 
 and as he now began to feel his ln^alth decline, he has- 
 tened the execution of his project, saw sir Nicholas 
 Kcmpe lay the first stone, and afterwards endowed the 
 hospital in a very munificent manner. The satisfaction 
 imparted by these deeds of charity, was interrupted bv 
 an unfortunate accident. While he was one dav en- 
 gaged inhuming in the park of lord Zouch at Bramzih 
 an arrow which he shot from a cross-bow at one of the
 
 ABB 
 
 ABD 
 
 deer, struck his lordship's keeper, and killed him on 
 the spot. This involuntary homicide pierced with keen 
 anguish the heart of the amiable prelate. He sunk 
 into a deep and settled melancholy ; observed the fatal 
 day as a monthly fast ; and, to make some compensation 
 to the widow, settled on her an annuity of twenty pounds 
 sterling. Yet there were not wanting persons mali- 
 cious enough to endeavour to turn this accident toAis 
 ruin ; and though his majesty wrote him with his own 
 hand a consolatory letter, and declared that "an angel 
 might have miscarried in this sort," it was thought 
 necessary to appoint a commission to investigate the 
 affair. Tlie result of their inquiry was, that he received 
 a complete dispensation under the great seal, and was 
 declared fully irAltled to the exercise of archicpiscopal 
 authority. During the whole reign of James, he was 
 treated with that kindness and respect to which his vir- 
 tues intitled him. Nor was the primate, on his part, 
 deficient in gratitude. Though worn out with infirmi- 
 ties, he attended his sovereign during his last illness 
 with affectionate and urn-emitting solicitude, and saw 
 hun expire on the 27th of March, 1625. 
 
 From that moment his influence began visilily to de- 
 cline. His inflexible virtue, which was a perpetual 
 censure on the manners of Charles and his profligate 
 minister induced him frequently to oppose their mea- 
 sures. His principles of liberty were alarmed by the 
 unconstitutional demand of a general loan ; and his in- 
 dignation was strongly excited against those mercenary 
 ecclesiastics who prostituted religion to the support of 
 such a flagrant infringement on the subject's rights. 
 He refused, therefore, to license a sermon which Dr 
 Sibthorpe had written lor this disgraceful purpose ; 
 and Buckingham eagerly seized the opportunity of gra- 
 tifying his hatred against the worthy primate. At his 
 instigation. Abbot was suspended from the archiepis- 
 I'opal office, l)anished from London, and ordered to con- 
 fine himself at one of his country seats. On the con- 
 vocation of parliament, however, it was found necessary 
 to restore him; and such was his popularity, that he 
 was employed by the lords as the only person who 
 could moderate the pretensions of the commons, in the 
 petition of right. At court his presence was extremely 
 unwelcome ; his authority was entirely superseded by 
 the intrigues of Laud; and the indignities which he 
 sufiered induced him to withdraw to Croydon, where 
 he died on the 4th of August, 1633, at the age of seven- 
 ty-one. He w'as buried in the church of Guildford, where 
 a magnificent monument was erected to his memory. 
 
 The cluuxh of England cannot boast of a prelate 
 more truly respectable than Abbot, archbishop of Can- 
 terbury. Offices which are open to merit, independent 
 of rank or fortune, w ill often be filled by men conspi- 
 cuous for talents and virtue; yet it not unfrequently 
 happens, that high elevation destroys, or at least im- 
 ])airs the excellence which led to its attainment. But 
 Abbot was not less remarkable for his moderation, his 
 integrity, and his firmness in the exercise of his exalt- 
 ed office as primate, than for his modesty, his unaspir- 
 ing temper, and his uncorruptible virtue in more ob- 
 scure and hunible siuuitions. He seems to have been 
 influenced in all his conduct by the spirit of the religion 
 which he jjrofessed. Though naturally mild and un- 
 offending, he was resolute in opposing whatever his 
 conscience disapproved; dutiful to his sovereign, he 
 was, at the same time, solicitously attentive to the 
 rights of the subject: zealous for tiie respectability of 
 
 his order, he wished to promote it, not by constrained 
 reverence for the clerical dignity, but by the exemplary 
 purity of the clerical life. His enemies branded him 
 as a puritan, but that was a term of reproach bestowed, 
 without discrimination, by the licentious and unprin- 
 cipled courtiers of Charles, on all who refused to admit 
 the unlimited prerogative of the crown; and it is, per- 
 haps, the most striking proof of his excellence, that 
 malignity could never throw any fouler imputation on 
 his character. 
 
 His works are, Qua.t/iones sex l/ieolog-icte totidemPra' 
 leclionibun dis/iiiiaia, Oxford, 1598. Dr Hill's Reasons 
 for Papistry unmasked, Oxford, 1604. Sennons on the 
 Prophet Jonas. The History of the Massacre of the Val- 
 telinc. A Geography. A Treatise on the perpetual 
 Visibility of the true Church. A Preface to the Exami- 
 nation of George Sprat. A Sermon from Isaiah, xi. 6. 
 preached at Winchester, May 26, 1608, at the Funeral 
 of Thomas, Earl of Dorset. A Narrative concerning his 
 Disgrace at Court, in two parts, written in 1627. His 
 Judgmerlt of bow ing at the name of Jesvis. A Letter to 
 the Archbishop of York, dated September 4, 1622. A 
 I>ctter to Dr Williams, bishop of Lincoln, Lord Keeper. 
 Besides those he published several Speeches and Dis- 
 courses, delivered in Parliament and elsewhere, (ft) 
 
 ABBOT, Robert, an elderbrother of the archbishop, 
 was born in 1560. He was an eminent preacher, and 
 stood so high in the estimation of king James I. that to- 
 wards the beginning of his reign, he appointed him one 
 of his chaplains in ordinary, and ordered his work IJe 
 ylntichristo to be reprinted, along with part of a treatise 
 of his own on the Apocalypse. While regius professor 
 of divinity at Oxford, the king was so much gratified by 
 his lectures on the supreme power of kings, that he pro- 
 moted him to the see of Salisbury, to which he was con- 
 secrated by his brother the archbishop in 1515. Having 
 filled it little more than two years, he died in 1617. (c) 
 
 ABBREVL\TION, is the shortening of a word by 
 omitting some of the letters. Those languages which 
 consist chiefly of consonants, such as the Hebrew, may 
 be said to be written altogether in abbreviations, be- 
 cause a number of subsequent consonants would be 
 mute, without the substitution-of vowels: In such lan- 
 guages, tlierefore, it is in the omission of these vowels 
 that the abbreviation consists. 
 
 Abbreviations have been particularly used by ancient 
 lawyers and physicians. Many of them remain to this 
 day, and books in explanation of them have been pub- 
 lished, as if they had been in a foreign language. An- 
 cient manuscripts, particularly those of the 12th, 13th, 
 or 14th century, abound with contractions to such a de- 
 gree, that a whole word is sometimes expressed by a 
 single letter, which greatly increases the difliculty of 
 reading them. See Contractions. 
 
 The numerous abbreviations found in the relics of 
 Roman history, and others which are still in use, will be 
 found under the article Character. See Dix'ersions 
 of Purtrtf, chap. i. (c) 
 
 ABDALMALEK, the son of Mirvan, and fifth ca- 
 liph of the race of the Ommiades. He was a great con- 
 queror, and reigned between 685 and 706. In his reign, 
 the Greek language was excluded from the public ac- 
 counts, {".v) 
 
 ABDALONYMUS, a descendant of king Cinyras, 
 and one of the royal family of Sidon, who lived in obscu- 
 rity, while Strato possessed the throne. Alexander the 
 Great, having deposed Strato, inquired after the de-
 
 A13D 
 
 ABE 
 
 bcendants of Cinyras ; and having discovered Abdalony- 
 mus living in virtuous and happy poverty, he was so 
 pleased vvfithhis conversation, that he not only restored 
 him to his lawful inheritance, but extended liis dominions, 
 and enriched him vith a share otlhe Persian spoils. Quint. 
 Curt. lib. iv. c. 1 . Justin, lib, xj. c. 1 0. Un.vcra. Nisi. vol. viii. 
 p. 830. ('j) 
 
 ABDALS, in the East Indies, a species of modern bac- 
 chanals, who are so infuriated with zctal for their super- 
 stition, that they often rush into the streets with poniards 
 in their hands, and put to death everj' person of a differ- 
 ent religion. This is ca\lcd running amok ; the word 
 amok, wliich signifies slaughter, being the cry of these 
 desperate fanatics. If they happen to fall in this war- 
 fare, they are regarded by the vulgar as martyrs for 
 their religion, (w) 
 
 ABDERA, a maritime town of Thrace, situated at 
 the mouth of the river Nessus, and chiefly remarkable 
 for the marvellous stories which arc related of it by an- 
 cient authors. During the reign of Lysimachus, the in- 
 habitants of Abderavvere said to be afflicted with a burn- 
 ing fever, which reached its maximum on the seventh 
 day, and which affected their imaginations in such a man- 
 ner, that every one fancied himself a player. The fa- 
 vourite drama of this theatrical city, was the Androme- 
 da of Euripides ; and it was not uncommon to see groups 
 of these tragedians spouting in the streets with all the 
 fervour and sincerity of real actors. Lucian, who re- 
 lates this incredible story, accounts for it from the fol- 
 lowing circumstance. During a very sultry summer, the 
 Andromeda of Euripides was performed in Abdera by 
 the celebrated actor Archelaus. When the audience was 
 dismissed, several of them were seized with a delirious 
 fever; and as the various incidents of the play had made 
 a deep impression upon theirminds, they began, during 
 the paroxysms of the disease, to imitate the gestures and 
 looks of the leading characters ; and pronounce the bro- 
 ken sentences which their memory had preserved. The 
 disease was said to have been epidemical, and therefore 
 the whole inhabitants were seized with this dramatic 
 mania. 
 
 Among other wonders, the grass of the surrounding 
 country is said to have been of such a noxious quality, 
 that the horses which fed upoiiitwere seized with mad- 
 ness; and during the reign of Cassander, king of Mace- 
 don, the houses were so inundated with tribes of rats and 
 frogs, that the inhabitants were obliged to surrender 
 them for a while to the devastation af these invaders. 
 
 Though the stupidity of the Abderites is proverbial 
 among ancient authors, yet Abdera had the honour of 
 giving birth to many illustrious men ; among whom were 
 Democritus, Anaxai-chus,Protagorus,Hecateusthe his- 
 torian, and Nicaenetus the poet. Abdera was formerly 
 celebrated for its gold and silver mines ; but is now re- 
 duced to an insignificant village. See Plin. JVat. Hist. 
 lib. XXV. cap. 8. Justin, lib. xxv. cap. 2. Lucian. Oprra, 
 torn. ii. p. 1. Herodotus, lib. i. c. 186. Stefihan.de Urb. 
 p. 5. Mela. ii. c. 2. Univ. Hist.\o\. vii. p. 432. vol. x. p. 
 49. and Baiile voc. Abdera. (o) 
 
 ABDOMEN, in Anatomy, from nhdo, to hide, is the 
 lower belly orcavity which lies between the thorax, from 
 which it is separated by the diaphragm, and a circular 
 ridge of bone, which separates it from the pelvis. The 
 abdomen is divided on its exterior surface into four re- 
 gions, called the epigastric, the umbilical, the hypogas- 
 tric, and the lumbar. For an account of which, see 
 Anatomy, (o) 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 ABDOMINALES, in Zoology, the fourth order of 
 fishes m the Linnaean system. See Hist. JVat. des Jioi^- 
 sons-, par M. Gouan, and Ichthvoi.ogv. (to) 
 
 ABDOLLATiPH,aii Arabian physician, born at Bag- 
 dad in 1 161, to whom posterity is indebted for a minutr 
 and interesting account oi Egypt. After having studied 
 grammar, rhtloric, history, poetry, and the dogmas of 
 the Mahommcdan law, h'. began to travel at the age ol 
 28. He reached Mosul, where he remained a year, giv- 
 ing lectures iti someof tliv colleges. He next proceeded 
 to Damascus, where he ].>revailed in a controversy ovei' 
 Al-Kendi, a famous grammarian ; and then advanced 
 towards Jerusalem. Having learned that Saladin, king 
 of the Saracens, who h;,d seized on the sovereignty of 
 Egypt, and endeavoured to expel the Christians from the 
 Holy Land, was encamped near Acre, he repaired thi- 
 ther, probably to obtain a protection during his travels; 
 but he found the king overwhelmed with mortification, 
 at a signal defeat which he had received from the Chris- 
 tians, and incapable of admitting him to his presence. 
 One of his principal officers, however, Bohaddin Ebn 
 Shaddad, to whom Abdollatiph was known, offered him 
 his patronage, and recommended him to one of the chief 
 men of the court, Ali-Kadi Al-Fadelo, who promised him 
 a pension if he would return to Damascus. But Abdol- 
 latiph chose rather to travel in Egypt ; and with this 
 view went to Cairo with the recommendations of Al- 
 Fadelo. Having understood, that Saladin had conclud- 
 ed a peace with the Christians, and was then at Jerusa- 
 lem, he went thither, and experienced the most gratify- 
 ing reception. He afterwards delivered lectures in the 
 great church or temple, called Al-Aksa. Thence he re- 
 turned to Damascus for the third time ; and in the col- 
 lege founded by Al-Aziz, imparted instruction on vari- 
 ous subjects to a numerous audience. 
 
 Subsequent to this period, Abdollatiph travelled into 
 Greece, where he resided several years, and afterwards 
 visited Syria, Asia Minor, and Armenia, practising his 
 art in various courts. At length he wished to return to 
 Damascus, as the place of his future residence ; but he 
 was desirous previously to make a pilgrimage to Mec- 
 ca, on his road to Bagdad, for the purpose of presenting 
 some of his works to the caliph Al-Mostansor Billali. 
 He died at Bagdad in 1223. Osaiba, -an eminent Ara- 
 bian biographer, ascribes 150 works to Abdollatiph. 
 The only one extant is his account of Egypt, which was 
 brought to Europe in manuscript by Dr. Pococke, and 
 deposited in the Bodleian library at Oxford. This work 
 has been lately published by Dr. White, accompanied 
 with an elegant Latin Version, (c) 
 
 ABDUCTION, in Law, is the act of carrying off a 
 woman,and marryinghcr against her will. Thishas al- 
 ways been reckoned a heinous offence, though the de- 
 gree of punishment adequate to it, is not universally 
 agreed upon. In Scotland, those who have forcibly en- 
 tered a woman's house, carried her off, and married her 
 without her own consent, have deservedly suffered ca- 
 pital punishment, (c) 
 
 ABDUCTORES, or Abductors, in Anatomy, a 
 name given to a number of muscles, from their office of 
 drawing away, or separating, certain moveable parts, 
 into which they are inserted, as the thumbs, thighs, eyes, 
 &c. See Anatomy, (w) 
 
 ABEILE, Gasper, a celebrated wit of the I6tli centu- 
 ry, who was born at Riez, in 1 648, and died at Paris in 
 1718. The brilliancy of his conversation procured him 
 the favour of Marshal Luxembourg, and some of the 
 B
 
 10 
 
 ABE 
 
 ABE 
 
 first characters at the French court : though the mirth 
 which he excited seems to have been chiefly owini; to 
 an unseemly wrinkled countenance, susceptible of the 
 most ludicrous expression. He was the author of seve- 
 ral dramatic pieces; but his wit was much superior to 
 his genius, (td) 
 
 ABEL, the second son of Adam and Eve. He and his 
 brother Cain, being taught by their lather the duties 
 which they owed to God, offered in sacrifice the first 
 fruits of their labours. Cain, as a husbandman, ofl'ered 
 of the fruits of the earth, and Abel, as a Shepherd, of the 
 firstlings of his flock. God accepted Abel's sacrifice, 
 but w as displeased w ith Cain's. Though we are uncer- 
 tain what were the precise reasons of this preference, 
 or in what manner it was testified, we know that Cain, 
 in consequence of it, conceived the most diabolical en\y 
 and hatred at his brother, and, having invited him into 
 the field, cruelly murdered him. Abel is frequently 
 mentioned in the New Testament, and is placed by our 
 Saviour, at the head of the list of saints, who had been 
 persecuted for righteousness' sake. His martyrdom is 
 not celebrated by the Greek churches, though they have 
 feasts in honour of every other patriarch : and even 
 among the Roman Catholics, his name does not appear 
 in any catalogue of the saints or martyrs, till the 10th 
 century. He is invoked, however, in several of the lita- 
 nies, for persons at the point of death, and is said to be 
 honoured by the Ethiopians annually on the 28th of De- 
 cember. See Univ. Hist. vol. i. p. 150 — 154. (rf) 
 
 ABEL, Charles Fkedekic, a celebrated composer 
 and performer of music. He left Germany, his native 
 country, in 1759, and, coming over to England, he was 
 soon noticed as a musical performer, and obtained the 
 office of chamber-musician to the queen, with a salary 
 of 2001. a year. He was irascible and overbearing in his 
 temper, and was so fond of ardent spirits, that he died at 
 London of excessive drinking, in 1787. According to 
 the celebrated Dr Burney, the compositions of Abel 
 ■were easy, and elegantly simple ; and his superiority in 
 writing and playing an adagio was so great, and he ex- 
 pressed the most pleasing, yet learned modulation, the 
 richest harmony, and the most polished and elegant 
 melody, with such feeling, taste, and science, that no 
 other musical composition or performance could be 
 compared with it. "The knowledge Abel had acqui- 
 red in Germany," says Dr Burney, "in every part of 
 musical science, rendered him the umpire in all musical 
 controversies, and caused him to be consulted in all dif- 
 ficult points. His concertos, and other pieces, were 
 very popular, and frequently played on public occasions. 
 Tb.e taste and science of Abel were rather greater than 
 his invention ; so that some of his later productions, com- 
 pared with those of younger coniposers, appeared some- 
 what languid and monotonous." See Burney's Hist, of 
 Music, vol. iv. (w) 
 
 ABELARD, (or Abailard) Peter, celebrated for 
 his learning and misfortunes, flourished in the twelfth 
 century, under the reigns of Louis le Gros, and Louis 
 le Jeune. He was born in the village of Palais, in Brit- 
 tany. He gave early indications of an acute and lively 
 genius, which his father, a man of rank and opulence, 
 resolved to cultivate by the most liberal education. 
 Young Abelard amply repaid his father's care, by his 
 rapid progress in science, and the ardour with which 
 he prosecuted his studies. In the height of literary 
 enthusiasm, he renounced the rights of primogeniture 
 in favour of his brothers, that, relieved from all lower 
 
 concerns, '.le might give his undivided attention to phi- 
 losophy. 
 
 It is to be regretted, that the science of that barbar- 
 ous age presented no objects more worthy of such ge- 
 nius and application. Logic became his favourite study ; 
 and so fond was he of wielding the weapons of argu- 
 mentation, that he travelled into dilVerent provinces in 
 quest of disputes, like a knight-errant in search of ad- 
 ventures. Tiiis romantic expedition terminated at 
 Paris, where he met with William do Chan'pcaux, a 
 celebrated professor of philosophy, and soon became 
 his favourite disciple. Their friendship, however, was 
 of short continuance. The penetrating Abelard easily 
 detected the fallacies of the professor's reasoning ; and 
 Champeaux, perplexed and foiled by the ([uestions and 
 arguments of his presumptuous scholar, conceived 
 against him the most rancorous hatred. The senior 
 students, envious of Abelard's growing reputation, took 
 part in their master's resentment. But this opposition 
 served only to increase the young logician's presump- 
 tion. Thinking himself qualified, by his attainments, 
 to impart instruction instead of receiving it, he resolved 
 to establish a school of his own. Melun, where the 
 French court then resided, was the theatre which he 
 chose for the display of his talents. Champeaux made 
 every exertion to prevent the erection of this rival 
 school; but through the influence of some powerful 
 courtiers, who were the professor's enemies, Abelard 
 prevailed. He soon eclipsed his antagonist's reputa- 
 tion, and, elated by his success, removed his school to 
 Corbeil, that he might engage him in closer and more 
 frequent encounters. Here his excessive application 
 threw him into a dangerous illness; and his physicians, 
 whom he afterwards suspected of being in league with 
 his adversary, advised him to retire to Brittany for the 
 benefit of his native air. 
 
 On returnuig to Paris about two years after, he found 
 that Champeaux had resigned his chair, and entered 
 into a convent of canons regular. In this new situa- 
 tion, however, he continued his lectures. He had 
 broached an opinion soniewhat similar to the doctrine 
 of universals, afterwards adopted by Spinoza. Abelard 
 again entered the lists with him, and pressed him so 
 vigorously, that he was forced to renounce his favourite 
 tenets. The monk incurred general contempt; his an- 
 tagonist was hailed with universal applause ; and, to 
 complete his triumph, the professor m whose favour 
 Champeaux had resigned, inlisted under the banners 
 of Abelard, and became his disciple. Such success 
 naturally inflamed the animosity of his opponents, and 
 stimulated their activity. Through Champeaux's in- 
 fluence, the converted professor was discarded ; and 
 Abelard himself was assailed by such a furious storm 
 of persecution, that he was forced to quit Paris, and 
 take refuge in Melun. 
 
 Hearing, soon after, that Champeaux, with his whole 
 train of monks, had retired to a country village, he w em 
 and posted himself on mount St Genevieve, and thence, 
 as from a battery, levelled his logical artillery against 
 the professor, who had been appointed at Paris after 
 the dismissal of his own convert. Champeaux hastened 
 with the host of his convent to the relief of his besieged 
 friend. But his assistance was unavailing ; the philo- 
 sopher was deserted by his pupils, and retired to a mo- 
 nastery to conceal the shame of his defeat. Abelard 
 and Champeaux still continued the contest, in which 
 the former was uniformly victorious. Meanwhile he
 
 ABELARD. 
 
 11 
 
 was allied from the conllict to visit his parents, who 
 had resolvetl to spend the remainder oi' lilb in a con- 
 vent. During his absence, his rival was made bishop 
 of Chalons. Abelard, on his return, finding that he 
 might quit his school, without the suspicion of being 
 forced irom the field, resolved henceforth to devote 
 himself to the study of divinity. With this view he re- 
 moved to Laon, where Anselm then lectured with great 
 reputation. Abelard, however, was so little satisfied 
 with his abilities, that he soon forsook his lectures, and 
 gave his days and nights to the study of the Scriptures, 
 and the ancient fathers. In a short time he found him- 
 self qualified for lecturing on theology, and commenced 
 an exposition of Ezekiel, in a manner so plain and en- 
 gaging, as to attract an incredible number of admirers. 
 The jealousy of Anselm was roused, and Abelard was 
 again compelled to return to Paris. Here he contiiuied 
 his lectures on Ezekiel; and his reputation as a divine 
 was no less flattering than that which he had formerly 
 enjoyed as a philosopher. 
 
 But, in the midst of this success, his happiness was 
 still incomplete : a passion, stronger than literary am- 
 bition, now occupied his breast; and he began to sigh 
 for pleasures, which neither learning nor fame could 
 impart. Yet his ambition attended him even in love. 
 In the bloom of life, elegant in his manners, and grace- 
 ful in his appearance, he was confident of success to 
 his addresses wherever he should condescend to pay 
 them, and resolved to be satisfied with no ordinary 
 conquest. His choice did not long remain undecided. 
 A young lady, named Heloise, reputed niece of Fulbert, 
 a canon of the church of Notredamc, happened to re- 
 side near the place where Abelard lectured. She was 
 in her eighteenth year, when the heart is most tender 
 and susceptible. To the most exquisite beauty, she 
 united mental accoiTiplishments equally admirable : and 
 her charms were heightened by such a graceful and 
 modest air, as rendered their influence irresistible. 
 Abelard could not aspire to a lovelier object. He saw 
 her, conversed with her, and was captivated. Philoso- 
 phy and divinity were forgotten, and his whole mind 
 was bent on the completion of those desires which 
 Heloise had inspired. 
 
 A most favourable opportunity soon occurred. Ful- 
 bert, who loved his niece, was desirous to cultivate her 
 genius and propensity for learning. He had already 
 hired masters to instruct her in several languages ; and 
 would gladly have indulged her desire of attaining a 
 knowledge of the higher branches of literature: but 
 he was fond of money; and though anxious for his 
 niece's improvement, he wished to eff'ect it with little 
 expense. He was, therefore, highly pleased, when 
 Abelard proposed to board in his house. He requested 
 him to devote some of his leisure hours to the instruc- 
 tion of Heloise in philosophy ; resigned her entirely to 
 his authority ; and even enjoined him, if he should find 
 it necessary, to inforce his precepts by compulsion. 
 Abelard undertook the charge with transport; though, 
 by a refined dissimulation, he seemed at first unwilling 
 to agree to the canon's proposal ; alleging, that the 
 sciences in which he wished his niece to be instructed, 
 wer-.- beyond the reach of female intellect. He con- 
 trived to render his instructions extremely pleasing to 
 his fair pupil : Instead of the dull precepts of philoso- 
 phy, he taught her the delightful lessons of love; and 
 insinuated himself so completely into her affections, 
 that she was willing to comply with his fondest wishes. 
 
 Fulbert had a country house at Corbcil,to vihich, as 
 a place of retirement favourable to study, the lover.s 
 used frequently to repair. They spent ^^llole monllis 
 in this retreat, abandoning themselves, withoiit fear of 
 observation or of censure, to the transports of a mutual 
 passion. The vigour of Abelai'd's mind was percepti- 
 bly impaired by this criminal indidgt;nce. His public 
 performances were disgracefully mean. He became 
 averse to study ; and the hours which he could steal 
 from the soft endearments of love, were employed in 
 the composition of amorous lays. So striking a change 
 naturally occasioned surmises; and the unguarded be- 
 haviour of the lovers soon convinced the world, that 
 their secret hours were not always spent in the study 
 of the sciences. Fulbert alone had no suspicion of their 
 intimacy. His partiality to Heloise, and his confidence 
 m her preceptor, prevented him from giving credit to 
 the rumours which prevailed against them, till, awa- 
 kened by the numerous hints and discoveries, which 
 were daily communicated to him, he watched their 
 conduct with the closest vigilance, and surprised them 
 in a moment of criminal enjoyment. An inmiediate 
 separation was the first consequence of this discovery. 
 With the ingenuity natural to lovers, they still found 
 means to continue their interviews ; and one evening, 
 after the transport of meeting, Heloise acquainted 
 Abelard, that she began to feel the effects of their fa- 
 miliarity. Abelard proposed, that she should remove 
 to the house of his sister in Brittany ; and Heloise, dis- 
 guised in the habit of a nun, set oft' without delay. 
 
 After her departure, Abelard waited on the canon, 
 explained to him the reason of his niece's withdrawing, 
 and endeavoured to appease his rising fury, by offering 
 to make any reparation for his offence. Fulbert insisted 
 on their immediate marriage, to which Abelard con- 
 sented. But Heloise, with the most romantic and un- 
 paralleled excess of love, remonstrated against an 
 union, which might perhaps diminish their mutual at- 
 tachment, and would certainly prevent the advance- 
 ment of her beloved Abelard. Her objections were 
 with difficulty overcome ; and, on her return from Brit- 
 tany, they were married in the most private manner. 
 As it was the interest and the wish of Abelard that 
 their marriage should be kept secret, Heloise, regard- 
 less of her own reputation, denied it so solemnly and 
 obstinately, as to obtain general credit. Her uncle, on 
 the other hand, anxious only to conceal her reproach, 
 was highly incensed by her false and shameless beha- 
 viour. To screen her from tlie effects of his resent- 
 ment, Abelard sent her to the convent of Argenteuil, 
 where she assumed the habit of a nun. She did not, 
 however, take the veil, that it might still be in her 
 power, in more favourable circumstances, to return to 
 the world. Fulbert, regarding this as a fresh instance 
 of her seducer's perfidy, meditated schemes of deep 
 revenge. By means of a treacherous domestic, assas- 
 sins were admitted into the chamber of Abelard, while 
 asleep ; and, by the canon's direction, inflicted upon 
 him the most cruel and degrading mutilation. Shame 
 and despair drove him into the darkness of a monas- 
 tery, where his only consolation was the conversation 
 and condolence of Heloise, whose affection did not seem 
 diminished by his misfortime. At the age of twenty- 
 two, while yet warm in youth, and glowing in beauty, 
 she assumed the veil, in compliance with his request, 
 and renounced for ever the pleasures of society. 
 
 In a few years, Abelard was reconciled to his unhap- 
 B 2
 
 ■'12 
 
 ABELABD. 
 
 py fate, and his literary ambition revived. In the mo- 
 iiastery of St Dcnys, to which he had retired, he began 
 to comment on the Acts of the Apostles ; but the dis- 
 orderly monks, ofl'cnded by the freedom with which he 
 censured their irregularities, refused to listen to his 
 lectures. With the consent of the abbot, he withdrew 
 from this licentious fraternity, and established a school 
 at Thibaud, in Champagne. His fame attracted such 
 numbers of scholars, not only from the remotest pro- 
 vinces of France, but likewise fiom Rome, Spain, Eng- 
 land, and Germany, that they could neither be supplied 
 vvith lodgings, nor with food. His fortune would soon 
 have equalled his celebrity, but the active persecution 
 of his enemies again involved him in calamity and dis- 
 grace. Alberic of Rheims, and Lotulf of Lombardy, 
 whom he had offended while at Laon, and who were 
 mortified to see their schools deserted for Abelard's, 
 pretended to discover heresy in a work of his, intitled. 
 The Mystery of the Trinity. They prevailed with the 
 archbishop to assemble a council at Soissons, and Abe- 
 Jard, without being heard in his defence, was condemn- 
 ed to burn his book with his own hands, anu~to confine 
 himself within the convent of St Medard. So keenly 
 did he feel the severity of this sentence, that he himself 
 declares, the unhappy fate of his writings affected him 
 more deeply than the crudest of his sufierings. 
 
 After a short confinement in St Medard, he was or- 
 dered to return to St Denys. Here his restless fondness 
 for disputation furnished the malice of his enemies with 
 an additional accusation against him. He had hinted, 
 that Dionysius, the Areopagite, could not be the patron 
 of their monastery ; as it was not probable he had ever 
 been in France. This blasphemous opinion was speedi- 
 ly reported to the archbishop, who threatened to de- 
 liver up to the secular power the audacious and impious 
 offender, who liad thus dared to reflect on the honour 
 of his convent, and of the kingdom at large. Abelard, 
 alarmed by his n^enaces, fled to the cloister of Troies, in 
 Champagne, where he remained till the storm had blown 
 over. On the death of the abbot, which happened soon 
 after, he obtained permission to live where he pleased. 
 Tired, at last, of this perpetual conflict v/ith prejudice 
 and malignity, he wished to spend the remainder of his 
 days in some peaceful retirement, where, with the so- 
 ciety of a few chosen friends, he might solace himself 
 for the many injuries which he had sustained. With 
 this view, he chose a solitude m the diocese of Troies ; 
 and havmg there obtained a portion of ground, by per- 
 mission of the bishop, he built a small house and a chap- 
 el, which he dedicated to the Most Holy Trinity. His 
 reputation followed him even into this sequestered re- 
 treat. Scholars flocked to him fi'om all quarters ; and, 
 building little huts for themselves in the desert, were 
 content to live on herbs and roots, that they might enjoy 
 the instructions of this extraordinary man. As a inemo- 
 rial of the happiness which he enjoyed in this solitude, 
 he dedicated his chapel, which had been enlarged by 
 the liberal contributions of his scholars, to the Holy 
 Chost, by the name of the Paraclete, or Comforter. But 
 his tranquillity w?s soon disturbed by the envy of his 
 former persecutors, Alberic and Lotulf, who pretended 
 to discover heresy in the name which he had given to 
 his chapel ; and alleged, that he thus artfully designed 
 
 to insinuate the doctrines which he durst not openly 
 avow. Their persecution was tlie more formidable, as 
 they were joined by St Bernard and St Norbet, two 
 popular zealots, who raised such a clamour against him, 
 that even his best friends were either carried away by 
 the general prejudice, or were afraid to show any dis- 
 position to favour him. So complete was his misery, that 
 he often formed the resolution of forsaking Christendom, 
 and seeking among heathens the security and peace 
 which was denied him among Christians and monks.* 
 
 The duke of Brittany, compassionating his misfor- 
 tunes, appointed him to the abbey of St Guildas, in the 
 diocese of St Vannes. The monks had already chosen 
 him as their superior, and he naturally hoped, that his 
 new situation would prove a safe asylum from the 
 rage of his enemies. But he had only exchanged 
 one source of misery for another. The profligacy of 
 the monks, and the tyranny of the nobleman, who was 
 the superior of the abbey, and who had deprived it of the 
 greater part of its revenues, gave him much vexation, 
 and exposed him to many dangers. Poison was fre- 
 quently mingled in his food, and, when that failed, in 
 the holy eucharist itself. In vain did he suspend over 
 the mutinous the terrors of excommunication; he lived 
 in perpetual fear of assassination, and compared his 
 situation to that of Damocles, while, seated at the table 
 of the Sicilian tyrant, v/ith a naked sword suspended 
 by a single hair over his head. 
 
 Whilst Abelard thus sufl'ered in St Guildas, Heloisc 
 was equally unhappy at Argenteuil. The nuns, of 
 whom she was prioress, had become so licentious, that 
 Lugger, abbot of St Denys, taking advantage of their 
 irregularities, deprived them of their monastery, and 
 established monks of his own in their room. On leav- 
 ing Argenteuil, she applied to Abelard, who, by permis- 
 sion of the bishop of Troies, gave her the house and 
 chapel of the Paraclete, and there founded a nunnery. 
 Here she conducted herself witli the greatest prudence, 
 piety, and zeal. " The bishops loved her as their child, 
 the abbesses as their sister, and the other religious as 
 their mother." Abelard made frequent journeys from 
 Brittany, to promote the interests of this rising house, 
 and to escape from the vexations which he experienced 
 in his own abbey. But finding, that, notwithstanding 
 their misfortunes, the passion of Heloise was reviving 
 in all its former ardour, he resolved to separate himself 
 from her for ever. He reminded her, that, to make 
 their retirement useful, and their penitence sincere, it 
 was neccssaiT that they should forget each other, and 
 think foi' the future of God alone ; and, having given 
 her directions for her own conduct, and the manage- 
 ment of the nuns, he bade her a last adieu, and returii- 
 ed to his abbey. A long interval had elapsed since 
 their separation, when a letter of Abelard to his friend 
 Philintus fell by chance into the hands of Heloise. It 
 contained a long account of all his persecutions and mis- 
 fortunes ; and Heloise was so deeply affected by the 
 perusal, that she could not avoid writing him in all the 
 tenderness of passion, and reproaching him for his long 
 silence. This was the origin of that celebrated cor- 
 respondence, which has been preserved in Abelard's 
 works, and which Pope has immortalized by tlie har- 
 mony of his numbers. 
 
 • His words are rcm:,rkalile : — " Sspe autem (Dens scit) in tantam lai)sus sum desperationem, ut Christianorum finlbus 
 nd fjenles transire disponercm, atque ibi qiiiete sub qiiacunque tributi pactione inter iiiiinicos Christi, Christiane vivere." 
 Opera, p . 32. 
 
 excessis 
 Melariii
 
 ABE 
 
 ABE 
 
 IS 
 
 About ten years after his return to St Guiklas, liIs 
 enemies broui^ht a new charge of heresy against liim, 
 before the arclibishop of Sens. At his own desire, 
 permission was granted him to defend his doctrine be- 
 fore a public assembly. For this purpose, the council 
 of Sens was convened in 1140, in which Louis the Se- 
 ventli :is3isted in person. St Bernard was his accuser, 
 and delivered to the assembly some propositions, drawn 
 from Abelard's book, which were publicly read. Abe- 
 lard, dreading the malice and unfairness of his enemies, 
 appealed to the pope. But he had been anticipated 
 by St Bernard, who prevailed with the pontiff to con- 
 firm the sentence, which, notwithstanding his appeal, 
 the council had pronounced against him before he had 
 time to present himself before his Holiness's tribunal. 
 The pope, likewise, ordered his books to be burnt, 
 himself to be confined, and to be for ever prevented 
 from teaching. Soon after, his Holiness was appeased 
 by the intercession of the abbot of Clugni, who, with 
 great humanity, received Abelard into his monastery, 
 reconciled him with St Bernard, and admitted him as 
 a religious of his society. In this last retirement, 
 Abelard experienced every kindness, till, weakened by 
 age, and afflicted with complicated disease, he was sent 
 to the priory of St Marcel, near Chalons, where he 
 died on the 21st of April, 1 142, in the sixty-third year 
 of his age. His body was sent to the chapel of the 
 Paraclete, according to a former request of Heloise, 
 and his own desire. She survived him for 20 years, 
 distinguished for her learning, her piety, resignation, 
 and exemplary conduct. She died on the 17th of May, 
 1 163, and desired to be buried in the same tomb with 
 Abelard, whose memory she had cherished with un- 
 diminished affection till the last moment of her life. 
 The following epitaph was inscribed on her tomb :* 
 
 Hie, 
 
 Sub eodem marmore, JacenC 
 
 Hujus monasterii 
 
 Conditor, Petrus Abelardus, 
 
 £t Abbatissima /i7i>na, Heloisa, 
 
 Olim studiis, ingciiio, infaustis riufitiis, 
 
 Et fjanitentia, 
 
 JVunc, teterna, ut sfieramus,J'flicitate conjuncti. 
 
 Petrus obiit 2 1 wo A/irilis, 1 1 42 ; 
 
 Heloisa, \7mo Ma a, 1163. 
 
 TRANSLATION OF THE EPITAPH. 
 
 Here, 
 
 imder the same marble, 
 
 lie Peter Abelard, 
 
 Founder, 
 
 and 
 
 Heloise, First Abbess 
 
 of this 
 
 Monastery ; 
 
 Once united 
 
 in studies, in genius, 
 
 in unhappy nuptials, and 
 
 Penitence, 
 
 Now, as we hope, 
 
 in Eternal Felicity. 
 
 Abelard died on the 21st of April, 1 142 ; 
 
 Heloise, on the 17th of May, 1163. 
 
 On reviewing the life of Abelard, wc find much to 
 admire, but more to condcnm. Singular, indeed, must 
 have been the talents of thai man, who, in an aji^t when 
 logic was almost the only science, could foil the first 
 champions in the field (jf disputation ; and who, under 
 every circumstance of discouragement, could draw, 
 even to a solitai-y desert, admiring and crowded audi- 
 tories from the most distant countries of civilized 
 Europe. But vanity and selfishness were the pre- 
 dominant features in his character. Even modesty, it 
 is trvie, will not always shield superior genius from 
 envy and persecution; but he may fairly be suspected 
 of unusual petulance and presumption, who never chang- 
 ed his situation witiiout exciting new enemies, and who 
 was driven from every society with which he was con- 
 nected, by the dissensions and animosities which he 
 himself had occasioned. His conduct to Heloise will 
 stamp his memory with perpetual infamy. Had he 
 merely been impelled by the ardour of resistless pas- 
 sion, his crime, though still unjustifiable, might have 
 found some apology in human frailty. But black must 
 have been the heart, which could form against such 
 lovely excellence a deliberate plan of seduction, and 
 could requite with selfish jealousy, and cold indif- 
 ference, the most disinterested and faithful affection. 
 Youth and inexperience plead the excuse of Heloise ; 
 and if we must still condemn her crime, her amiable 
 sensibility, and romantic generosity, soften at least the 
 severity of our censure. 
 
 The works of Abelard, written in Latin, are, " An 
 address to the Paraclete on the study of the Scriptures; 
 Problems and Solutions ; Sermons on the Festivals ; a 
 Treatise against Heresies ; an Exposition of the Lord's 
 Prayer ; a Commentary on the Romans ; a System of 
 Theology ; and his Letters to Heloise, and others." 
 The best edition of the works of Abelard, is that which 
 was published at Paris, from the MSS. of Francis 
 D'Amboise, intitled Abxlardi et Hcloiste, conjugis ejus, 
 o/!cra, ex editione Andreae Quercetani, quarto, 1616, 
 sometimes dated 1606, and 1626. (/t) 
 
 ABELIANS, a sect of heretics in Africa, who ap- 
 peared in the reign of Arcadius. According to St 
 Augustin, they enjoined marriage, but did not permit 
 any sexual intercourse. In order to preserve the sect, 
 they were therefore obliged to adopt a boy and a girl, 
 who were to inherit their effects, and marry upon the 
 same hard terms. This unnatural association, how- 
 ever, did not flourish long. As soon as its novelty was 
 gone, the number of its members diminished; and it 
 was extinct in the reign of Thcodosius. The tenets of 
 these heretics seem to have been founded on the sup- 
 position that Abel was married, and died without issue. 
 See Augustin de Haer. cap. 87. vel Ofiera, torn. vi. p. 
 14. ; and Bochart, Gcogra/i/i. Socr. lib. ii. cap. 16. (to) 
 ABEL-MOSCIIUS, the seed of a plant which has 
 the flavour of musk, and is indigenous in Egypt, and in 
 the East and West Indies. The fragrance of the seeds, 
 which resembles that of a mixture of amber and musk, 
 has induced the Arabians to mix them with their coffee. 
 They are chiefly useful however, as a perfume ; though, 
 from their peculiar flavour, and other qualities, they 
 seem to merit attention as a medicinal substance. The 
 best seeds come from Martinique, (to) 
 
 ABEN-EZRA, a celebrated Spanish rabbi, who was 
 
 * Some years ago, the tomb of Abelard and Heloise was conveyed from the chapel of tLe Paraclete to the National Museum at 
 Paris.
 
 14 
 
 ABE 
 
 ABE 
 
 famed for his knowledge in theology, philosophy, as- 
 trology, medicine, poetry, and grammar. His " Com- 
 mentaries on the Old Testament" arc much esteemed, 
 and are remarkal)le lor the concise and elegant style 
 in which they are composed. His " Jesud Mora," in 
 which he recommends the study of the Talmud, is the 
 scarcest of all his works. Dr Hyde translated his poem 
 on the Game of Chess ; but his other works, excepting 
 his Ekganti£ Grammatics, printed at \'enice in 1548, 
 remain unedited in ancient libraries. He died at 
 Rhodes at the age of 75, in II 74, or 1 190. See Mas- 
 clef. Hehre'xv Gram7nar, v. ii. p. 30. (to) 
 
 ABERBROTHOCK,or Arbroath, a sea-port town, 
 and one oi the royal boroughs of Scotland, situated on 
 the mouth of the small river Brothock, in the county of 
 Angus, about 56 miles N. N. E. of Edinburgh. 
 
 This town was erected into a royal borough aliout 
 tlie middle of the 12th century, by king William the 
 Lyon, who, in 1 178, founded its abbey, dedicated to St 
 Thomas a Becket ; but it was not consecrated till the 
 year 1233. The remains of its royal founder are in- 
 terred there, now undistinguished amidst plebeian dust. 
 This monastery was one of the richest in Scotland ; the 
 monks were of the Tyroncnsian order from the abbey 
 of Kelso, but were declared independent of its jurisdic- 
 tion. It enjoyed many other uncommon privileges : a 
 charter from king John of England is still preserved, 
 wherein the monastery and citizens of Aberbrothock 
 are exempted a teloniin et coyi.inetudinc in every part of 
 England, except London and Oxford. 
 
 A parliament was held at Arbroath in 1 320, when the 
 barons of Scotland under king Robert Bruce, in a cele- 
 brated and energetic manifesto, addressed to the pope, 
 asserted the independence of their kingdom. In 1525, 
 the famous cardinal Beaton, the Wolsey of Scotland, 
 was the last abbot of Arbroath. After the destruction 
 of the abbey, by the ungovernable fanaticism of the re- 
 formers, its revenues were erected into a temporal lord- 
 ship, in favour of lord John Hamilton, of the family of 
 Chatelherault ; and lord Aberbrothock is still one of 
 the titles of the duke of Hamilton. There is a dignity 
 and venerable grandeur in the ruins of the abbey, which 
 still command respect from strangers as they approach 
 the town ; and when more closely inspected, its mould- 
 ering Gothic aixhes, and dilapidated columns, impress 
 the mind with high ideas of its former magnificence. 
 
 With the abbey the town appears to have fallen into 
 decay for a considerable period. But eai'ly in the last 
 century, when the Union had diffused a spirit of com- 
 merce into Scotland, a few individuals of property be- 
 gan the manufacture of brown linen, which succeeded 
 beyond expectation : it is still the principal trade of 
 the place ; and from its quality, has acquired a celebri- 
 ty hitherto unrivalled. 
 
 The following abstract from the books of the Bro^^^l 
 Linen Stamp-Office, Arbroath, and confirmed to the 
 honourable the Board of Trustees, by the affidavit of 
 the stamp-master, will show the progressive increase 
 of the linen-manufacture for the last four years. 
 
 Average Valve. 
 
 L. 62,097 15 
 
 64,915 10 9 
 
 St.imped from 
 Nov. 1803 to Nov. 1804, 
 
 1804 1805, 
 
 1805 1806, 
 1805 1807, 
 
 Yards. 
 
 1,129,495 
 
 1,147,240 
 
 l,230,034i 
 
 1,484,425^ 
 
 69,246 14 11 
 83,454 15 9 
 
 . Besides the above, the manufacture of sail-cloth is 
 extensive, and may be fairly calculated for some years 
 
 past at not less than 100,0001. annual value. Ten sail- 
 cloth manufacturers are contractors for supplying his 
 majesty's navy with canvas ; the rest of the canvas 
 manufactured goes for exportation and home consump- 
 tion. From 1500 to 2000 tons of flax and hemp, exclu- 
 sive of lintseed, tallow, and ashes, are animally import- 
 ed from the Baltic : Tiie above, including a tan-work, 
 conducted with spirit and activity, are the principal 
 branches of trade in Arbroath. It enjoys a sale har- 
 bour, entirely artificial, which has been twice extended 
 within these last four years, owing to its increase of 
 shipping, which at present consists of upwards of 50 
 vessels, comprehending about 4000 tons register ; their 
 general size being from 60 to 150 tons : Of these, three 
 vessels belong to a company of the merchants, and are 
 constantly employed in the London trade, the greater 
 part of the linen and sail-cloth manufactured being 
 shipped direct for that port : The rest are chiefly em- 
 ployed in the Baltic and coasting trade. 
 
 In the year 1781, an attack was made upon the town 
 by a French privateer, after which a fort was built by 
 subscription. It is constructed in the form of a cres- 
 cent, on a small hill adjoining to the harbour, mounted 
 with six l2-pounders, and commands the coast to a 
 considerable distance. 
 
 The increase of population, and prosperous state of 
 commerce in Arbroath, will most forcibly appear from 
 the following facts. There is a respectable gentleman 
 still alive there, who recollects the time when he could 
 have sat down and told the name of every householder 
 in the town and suburbs. And the writer of this article 
 has just now befoie him, a receipt from the town-trea- 
 surer of Arbroath, granted to the tacksman of the shore- 
 dues, for the year 1717, the amount of which, rendered 
 into sterling money, makes their annual value 29/. 6«. 
 4d. : And in the year 1807, the shore -dues were sold by 
 public roup for 735/. sterling. To these may be added 
 the income arising from other duties and property. be- 
 longing to the town ; making the present annual re- 
 venue from 1700/. to 1800/. sterling. 
 
 A new town-house, including prisons, town-hall, 
 town-clerk's office, and register-room. Sec. is just now 
 building, after a very elegant plan, by Mr. David Logan, 
 architect. This building, when completed, will add 
 considerably to the embellishment of the High Street, 
 which, from a want of taste too prevalent in former 
 times, is crooked and irregular. In the year 1797, a 
 private library was established by a few of the principal 
 inhabitants and neighbouring gentlemen, which at pre- 
 sent consists of 1 12 members, contains about 2000 vol- 
 umes, is rapidly increasing, and promises to promote 
 tlie diffusion of literary and scientific knowledge. The 
 old town-house, a large and respectable building, has 
 been recently purchased by the guildry, and will be 
 occupied as a guild-hall, coflee-room, library -room. Sec. 
 Within these last twenty years, a very great addition 
 has been made to the extent and population of the town, 
 by building upon ground taken in perpetual feu from 
 the adjoining proprietors, m which more attention has 
 been paid to the regularity and uniformity of the streets. 
 The greater part of these additions are w'thout the 
 royalty, and in the neighbouring parish of St Vigeans. 
 The population, including tlie suburbs, may be reckon- 
 ed about 9000. 
 
 Arbroath is healthfully situated, enjoys a free circula- 
 tion of air ; and, although it cannot boast of many rich 
 capitalists employed in trade, or wallowing in luxury
 
 ABERCROMBY/ 
 
 15 
 
 fi'om overgrown fortunes, yet it displays a spirit of pro- 
 ^•rcssivc industry and improvement, wiiicli may be just- 
 ly considered as tlie true source of national prosperity : 
 And it lias often been remarked l)y stranii^ers, tiiat it 
 exhibits pcj'haps fewer instances of abject poverty and 
 extreme wretchedness, than most towns of equal popu- 
 lation in Great Britain. Lat. N. 56° 32' 30". Long. 
 2° 34' 15". (a. is.) 
 
 ABERCROMBY, Sir Ralph, K. B. was the son of 
 George Abercromby of Tullibody, Esq. in the county 
 of Clackmannan. He was born in 1738, and was one 
 of five sons, all of whom rose to situations of eminence 
 in diflerent departments of the service of the state. 
 He entered into the army as cornet of the 3d Dragoon 
 Guards, in 1756; and, ascending through the inter- 
 mediate gradations of rank, he was appointed, in 1781, 
 colonel of the 103d, or King's Irish infantry. This 
 new-raised regiment was reduced at the peace in 1783, 
 when colonel Abercromby was placed on half-pay. In 
 1787, he was removed to the command of the 7th regi- 
 ment of dragoons. He acquired, during the long- 
 period of his military service, great knowledge and ex- 
 perience in his profession, having served in the Seven 
 Years' War, and in the war with America and its allies. 
 
 But the chief services which he rendered to his coun- 
 try were those occasioned by the great contest into 
 which Great Britain entered with France, soon after 
 the French Revolution. He was promoted to the rank 
 of major-general, and soon after to that of lieutenant- 
 g-eneral ; and, in the two campaigns on the Continent, 
 in which the British troops were commanded by the 
 duke of York, he gave many proofs of his skill, vigi- 
 lance, and intrepidity. In the action on the heights of 
 Cateau he commanded the advanced guard, and was 
 wounded at Nimeguen in the October following (1794.) 
 It has been sometimes remarked, that the talents, as 
 well as the temper, of a commander are put to as severe 
 a test in conducting a retreat, as in achieving a victo- 
 ry. The truth of this lieutenant-general Abercrom- 
 by experienced, when he was called upon to perform 
 the painful but important duty, of conducting a part of 
 the retreating army out of Holland, in the winter of 
 1794-5. The guards, and all the sick, were on this 
 occasion committed to his care ; and in the disastrous 
 march from Devanter to Oldensal, he sustained the 
 severest hardships, and experienced the most painful 
 feelings, which had ever perhaps fallen to his lot. 
 Harassed by a victorious enemy on his rear, obliged 
 to conduct his troops with a rapidity beyond their 
 strength, through bad roads, in the most inclement 
 part of a winter uncommonly severe, and finding it 
 alike difficult to procure food and shelter for his sol- 
 diers, the anguish he felt in seeing their numbers daily 
 diminish by cold and fatigue, admits of no adequate 
 description. His gallant spirit was ready to sink be- 
 neath the cares which oppressed him, before his arrival 
 at the place of destination. He accomplished his object 
 however, as well as himnan judgment, united with huma- 
 nity, could accomplish it, about tVie end of January 1795. 
 
 In the autumn of the same year, he was appointed to 
 succeed sir Charles Grey as commander in chief of the 
 British forces in the West Indies. Previous to his ar- 
 rival, the French had made considerable exertions to 
 recover from their losses in that quarter; and, besides 
 recapturing several of their islands, they seized, to an 
 immense amount, the property of the rich emigrants, 
 who had fled thither from France. General Abcrcrom- 
 
 liy repaired to Southampton, to take the conmiand <^C^^ 
 tiie troops destined lor the West Indies. Theexpedi» ^^ 
 tion was unfortunately prevented from sailing till after 
 the equinox, and several transports were lost in endea- 
 vouring to clear the Channel. Every possible exer- 
 tion was however made, and the general, with his troops, 
 at length arrived at the place of destination. 
 
 Having arranged his plans, he waited the proper 
 season for their execution ; and, on March 24, 1796, a 
 detachment of his army suddenly attacked and obtain- 
 ed possession of the island of Grenada. He soon after 
 became master of the Dutch settlements of Demerara 
 and Esscquibo, in South America. Towards the end 
 of April, the admiral had the necessary ships in readi- 
 ness for conveying the troops designed for an attack on 
 the island of St Lucia. Here the enemy had a num- 
 ber of well-disciplmed black and white troops, who de- 
 fended the garrison of Morne Fortune with considera- 
 ble gallantry. After experiencing much obstruction 
 from the exertions of the enemy, favoured by the nature 
 of the country, a suspension of arms took place on the 
 24th of May, and a capitulation was entered into on 
 the 26th, by which the fortress was surrendered to the 
 British, and the troops became prisoners of war. The 
 island of St Vincent was next attacked, and yielded to 
 the Britisliarms about the middle of June. This short 
 and brilliant campaign was concluded by the command- 
 er in chief in the island of Grenada, where his pre- 
 sence became necessary to quell the insurgents who had 
 taken arms against the British, and were headed by the 
 fierce and enterprising Fedon. After the arrival of 
 Abercromby, hostilities were speedily brought to a ter- 
 mination ; and on the 19th of June, full possession was 
 obtained of every post in the island, and the haughty 
 chief, Fedon, with his troops, were reduced to uncondi- 
 tional submission. 
 
 Early in the following year (1797) the general sail- 
 ed, with a considerable fleet of ships of war and trans- 
 ports, against the Spanish island of Trinidad, and, on 
 the 16th of February, approached the fortifications of 
 Gasper Grande, under cover of which, a Spanish squa- 
 dron, consisting of four sail of the line and a frigate, 
 were found lying at anchor. On perceiving the ap- 
 proach of the British, the Spanish fleet retired further 
 into the bay. General Abercromby made arrange- 
 ments for attacking the town and ships of war early in 
 the following morning. The Spaniards, however, an- 
 ticipated his intentions ; and, dreading the impending 
 conflict, set fire to their own ships, and retired to a dif- 
 ferent part of the island. On the following day, the 
 troops landed ; and soon after, the whole colony sub- 
 mitted to the British arms. Having performed these 
 important services in so gallant a manner, and having 
 failed only in his attempt on the Spanish island of Por- 
 to Rico, the commander in chief returned soon after 
 to England, where he was received with every mark of 
 honour and public respect. During his absence on 
 these enterprises, he was invested with the red rib- 
 band, and soon after his return, he received the appoint- 
 ments of governor of Fort George and Fort Augustus. 
 
 In times of public peril, a commander so justly re- 
 spected for his valour and humanity, could not ex- 
 pect long to enjoy the delights of domestic retirement. 
 Tiiese, his gentle mamiers and unambitious character 
 rendered peculiarly dear to him. But he was reser- 
 ved for other active duties, to ^\ hich the service of his 
 country called him.
 
 16 
 
 •abercuomby. 
 
 c^ 
 
 Ireland had been Jong a subject of solicitude to 
 
 ritish statesmen. The great majority ot its inha- 
 bitants, beijig attached to the Catholic religion, and 
 having been accustomed to view with a jealous eye 
 the superior privileges enjoyed by their Protestant 
 brethren, were deemed the Ht objci-t.s of French arti- 
 fice and intrigue. The leaders of the l-'rcnch Revo- 
 lution employed these religious animosities, as well as 
 the political discontents of the Irish, to irill.ime their 
 minds against their sovereign and the hrilish con- 
 stitution. When party disputes had arisen to such a 
 height as to be attended by frequent outrages, and to 
 threaten that country with open rebellion. Sir R. Aber- 
 cromby was selected to fill the important station of 
 commander in chief of his majesty's forces in Ireland. 
 He arrived there in that character, about the middle 
 of November 1797. Finding that the conduct of some 
 of the British troops had too much tended to increase 
 the spirit of insubordination, he issued a proclama- 
 tion on the subject soon after his arrival. In this 
 proclamation, which is written in a simple and impres- 
 sive strain of indignant sensibility, he laments and re- 
 proves the occasional excesses into which they had 
 fallen, and which had rendered them more formidable 
 to their friends than to their enemies ; and he declares 
 his firm determhiation to punish, with exemplary 
 severity, any similar outrage, of which they might 
 be guilty in future. Though much has been insinua- 
 ted against the policy of this proclamation at such a 
 crisis, there can exist only one opinion, as to the mo- 
 tives by which it was dictated. Nor can we cease to 
 regard it as forming a most marked and decisive proof 
 of the manly independence of his mind, and of the ge- 
 nuine benevolence of his heart. He did not long re- 
 tain his command in Ireland. The inconveniences, 
 arising from the delegation of the highest civil and 
 militai-y authority to different persons, had been felt to 
 occasion much perplexity in the management of public 
 affairs, at that season of agitation and alarm. Sir R. 
 Abercromby, therefore, resigned the command, and 
 marquis Cornwallis was appointed his successor, with 
 the additional honour of Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. 
 
 In the summer of the same year, Sir. R. Abercrom- 
 by was appointed commander in chief of his majesty's 
 forces in Scotland ; and, for a short time, the cares of 
 his military duty were agreeably blended with the en- 
 dearments of kindred, and the society of early friends. 
 
 In the autunm of 1799, he was employed in the ex- 
 pedition to Holland, as next in command to the duke of 
 York. On this occasion he gave new and ample proofs of 
 his skill and valour. But the lateness of the season, at 
 which the expedition sailed, the extreme wetness of tlie 
 weather, the advanced state of the enemy's preparations 
 for defence, and the unexpected refusal of the Dutch 
 people to receive the British as their deliverers from 
 the yoke of France, all combined to render success 
 hopeless. The military talents of the generals there- 
 fore were chiefly employed to secure to tlie Brhish ar- 
 my a strong and impregnable position, capable of being 
 supplied by sea with provisions and stores. Having 
 done this, they were enabled to conclude a convention 
 with the enemy ; by which they were permitted to re- 
 cmbark unmolested, and return to Britain. 
 
 In the following year ( 1 800) tlie attention of tl»e pub- 
 lic was drawn towards a great naval and military ex- 
 pedition, which was fitted out by tlie English govern- 
 ment al an immense expense. It sailed from England 
 
 early in summer; the naval force under the command 
 of admiral lord Keith, and the army commanded by sir 
 R. Abercromby. Alter threatening Cadiz, and linger- 
 ing for a consitlerable time in the Mediterranean, orUers 
 at length arrived from F.ngland for the fleet,to proceed 
 to Egypt, and the two divisions rendezvoused at Malta 
 on the 14lh December. Thence they sailed on tlie 
 20th and 2 1st of the same month, carrying along with 
 them 500 Maltese recruits, who were designed to act 
 as pioneers. The fleet, in place of sailing direct for 
 Egypt, which sound policy, we apprehend, should have 
 dictated, again rendezvoused, on the 1st January, 1801, 
 in Marmoriss Bay. The fleet, to the number of 175 
 sail, weighed anchor on the 23d February ; and on 
 the 1st Alarch, it came in sight of the coast of Egypt, 
 and on the following morning anchored in Aboukir Bay, 
 in the very place where, a few years before, Nelson had 
 added to the naval triumphs of his country. 
 
 The violence of the wind, from the 1st to the 7th of 
 March, rendered a landing impracticable ; and the re- 
 sult of the inquiries, which were made during that in- 
 terval, was, that there was no part of the coast so fa- 
 voui-able for the attempt as Aboukir Bay. The weath- 
 er becoming calmer on the 7th, that day was spent 
 m reconnoitring the shore ; a service in which sir Sid- 
 ney Smith displayed great skill and activity. 
 
 Meanwhile the French, who, availing themselves of 
 the delay of the British, obtained naval and military rein- 
 forcements from Europe, and were fully aware of the at- 
 tempt, which was soon to be made, though ignorant of 
 the precise point of landing, used every exertion to 
 counteract its success. Two thousand of their men 
 were strongly intrenched on the sand-hills near the 
 shore, and formed, in a concave figure, opposite to tlie 
 British ships. The main body of the FVench amiy 
 was stationed at and near Alexandria, within a few 
 miles. At two o'clock, on the morning of the 8th, the 
 British troops began to assemble in the boats ; at three, 
 the signal was given for them to rendezvous near the 
 Mondovi, anchored within gunshot of the shore ; and it 
 was not till about nine in the morning, that the boats 
 were assembled and arranged. At that hour, the sig- 
 nal for landing was given. The boats rushed forward 
 w ith one great impulse, and the work of destruction be- 
 gan. Twelve pieces of cannon placed on the sand- 
 hills, within gunshot of the boats, and the castle of 
 Aboukir, opened a dreadful fire on our gallant sol- 
 diers, who, crowded in the boats, were utterly unable 
 to make the least resistance. As they approached the 
 shore with a rapidity that seems in such circumstan- 
 ces incredible, a torrent of grape and musketry as- 
 sailed them, and even their enemies were confounded 
 by the boldness of the attempt. Unappalled by this 
 tempest of death, which, for a short time, made dread- 
 ful havock among our troops, the 2od and 40th regi- 
 ments, which first reached the shore, leaped from the 
 boats, formed as on parade, mounted the heights, which 
 seemed inaccessible, in the face of the enemy's fire, 
 without returning a shot, charged with the bayonet two 
 battalions, who were stationed on the summit, put them 
 to flight, and took three pieces of cannon. In vain did 
 the enemy endeavour to rally his troops ; in vain did 
 a body of cavalry charge suddenly on the Guards, the 
 moment of their debarkation. They gave way at all 
 points, maintaining, as they retreated, a scattered, and 
 inefficient fire. The boats returned for the remaining 
 part of the army, which was landed before tlie close of
 
 ABERCROMBY. 
 
 i; 
 
 tlic same day. The troops were employed the next 
 day in searching for water, in which they happily suc- 
 ceeded ; and the castle of Aboukir rclusing to surren- 
 der, two regiments were oidered to blockade it. On 
 the 13th, the general, desirous ol forcing the iieights 
 near Alexandria, on which a body of French, amount- 
 ing to 6000, was posted, marched his army to the at- 
 tack ; and, after a severe contlict, compelled them to 
 retire. Wishing to follow up his first success, and to 
 drive the enemy from his new position, the general pro- 
 ceeded to reconnoitre, and, during his absence, the cen- 
 tre of his army was exposed to a most destructive fire, 
 from which they had no shelter, and to which they could 
 oppose scarcely any resistance. At length, the attem])t 
 to force the enemy's lines was deemed impracticable, 
 and the army retired with great loss to that position, 
 which was soon to be the theatre of struggle and of 
 victory. Why sir Ralph Abercromby did not cither 
 remain contented with gaining his first object on the 
 loth, or keep his men out of the reach of the enemy's 
 cannon, while he was in suspense about making a se- 
 cond attack, it is not easy to conjecture. The loss of 
 the English, on that unfoi-tunate day, in killed and wound- 
 ed, was upwards of 1000; and the general himself had 
 a horse shot under him. Alter the 13th, Aboukir cas- 
 tle, which had hit'aerto been only blockaded, was be- 
 sieged, and, on the fifth day of the siege, it was sur- 
 rendered. On the 20th, a considerable body of tlie 
 enemy was seen advancing toward Alexandria ; and an 
 Arab chief gave information to sir Sidney Smith, that 
 the French general, Menou, meant, next morning, to 
 surprise and attack the British camp. Sir Sidney Smith, 
 who, unwilling to confine his exertions for his country 
 to one element, partook of all the dangers of the field, 
 communicated tiiis intelligence at head quarters, to- 
 gether with his own belief of its truth. The position 
 of the French army, however, was so strong by nature 
 and art, and it seemed so much their interest to remain 
 on the defensive, that sir R. Abercromby could not give 
 credit to the report. Every precaution, however, had 
 already been used to secure and strengthen the posi- 
 tion of his army. 
 
 On the morning of the 21st March, the army was, as 
 usual, in battle array at three o'clock. All remained 
 quiet for about half an hour, and the troops were re- 
 tiring to their tents, when the report of a musket on 
 the left awakened attention, and recalled them to their 
 posts. Scattered sounds of musketry and cannon suc- 
 ceeded in the same quarter ; but, from the apparent 
 weakncssof the attack upon the left, it was wisely judg- 
 ed, that this was only a feint, and that the real object 
 of attack was the right of the British army. After 
 a short interval of suspense, rendered doubly awful 
 by tlic gloom of the atmosphere and the darkness of 
 the night, shouts were heard from the enemy, n\arch- 
 ing in columns to the attack of the right wing of the 
 British ; a roar of musketry and artillery succeeded, 
 and a general action began. This is not the proper 
 place for detailing the events of that memorable day, 
 on which, after a long and severe engagement, the 
 British gained a signal triumph over an assailing ene- 
 my, much superior in numbers. The joy of victory, 
 however, was shaded with sorrow from the irrepara- 
 ble loss which the army sustained in the fall of its 
 brave commander, sir Ralph Abercromby, who, blend- 
 ing the coolness of age and experience with the ardour 
 and activity of vouth, repaired on horseback to the 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 right on the first alarm, and exposed himself to all 
 the dangers of the field. Early in tlie action, he re- 
 ceived a mortal woiuid in the thigh from a musket- 
 ball ; yet he continued to move about, and give orders 
 with his characteristic promptitude and pers|)ic'uity. 
 In a formidable charge by tlie enemy's cavalry, he was 
 thrown from his horse, and, in a scuHle with a French 
 officer, whom he disarmed, he received a contusion on 
 the breast. Still he remained in the field, unconsci- 
 ous or regardless of his danger, till the retreat and 
 discomfiture of the enemy gave him leisure to think 
 of his situation. Exertion being no longer necessary, 
 his spirit sunk beneath fatigue and loss of blood, and 
 he was conveyed, feeble and faint, from the field of 
 victory, amid the expressions of love and sympathy 
 from the companions of his dangers, who were to be- 
 hold his face no more ! He was put on board a boat, 
 and carried to lord Keith's flag-ship. All the attempts 
 which were made to extract the ball proving ineflec- 
 tual, he lingered for a week in great pain, aggravated 
 by mental solicitude respecting the army. A mortifi- 
 cation at length took place, and on the evening of the 
 28th he expired ; and the joy which the great vic- 
 tory of the 21st had inspired, was, for a season, turned 
 into mourning. His remains were conveyed to Malta 
 in the Flora frigate, attended by his aid-du-camp, and 
 were interred in the commandcry of the grand master, 
 with the highest military honours. The same frigate 
 conveyed to England the standard of the celebrated 
 brigade, which Bonaparte had presumptuously named, 
 The In-uincible Legion. This flag, inscribed with the 
 names of those battles in which the brigade had been 
 chiefly distinguished, was valiantly, but in vain, de- 
 fended. The corps was said to have perished to a 
 man ; and the standard remains as a trophy to the 
 victors, and a monument ol human pride. Having, by 
 his talents and exertions, paved the way for that com- 
 plete success, which in a few months crowned the la- 
 bours of the British troops, and expelled the French 
 from Egypt, sir Ralph Abercromby was succeeded in 
 the chief command by his much esteemed friend gene- 
 ral Hutchinson. This gentleman, who to the qualities 
 which form an able commander, adds the accomplish- 
 ments of a correct and elegant scliolar, in the des- 
 patches which announced to the English government 
 the death of Abercromby, pays the following affecting 
 tribute to the memory of the veteran commander : — . 
 " Were it permitted for a soldier to regret any one 
 who has fallen in the service of his country, I might 
 be excused for lamenting him more than any other 
 person ; but it is some consolation to those who ten- 
 derly loved him, that as his life was honourable, so was 
 his death glorious ! His memory will be recorded in 
 the annals of his country, and will be sacred to every 
 British soldier, and embalmed in the recollection of a 
 grateful posterity." (/) 
 
 ABERCROMBY, Alexander, (lord Abercromby,) 
 was the youngest son of George Abercromby of Tulli- 
 body, and was born in 1745. Destined, probably on 
 account of his promising talents, to the bar, he passed 
 through all the various stages of education prescribed 
 for our Scottish lawyers. Rut his mind was too much 
 formed for the gaieties of fashionable ]if% to relinquish 
 them for the irksome dnulgery of a laborious employ- 
 ment. For some vears after he had been admitted into 
 the Faculty of Advocates, his splendid talents were 
 ahnost wholly obscured by indolence or frivolity; till 
 C
 
 IB 
 
 ABKlUiEEN. 
 
 roused at length lo excrlion by the dread of penury, or 
 the desire of fame, he engaged with ardent emulation 
 in all the duties of his profession. His industry and 
 ambition were amply rewarded. He soon became emi- 
 nent for his professional skill, and was distinguished 
 us one of the most eloquent pleaders at tlie bar. Ho- 
 nours now began to crowd upon him. He was fust ap- 
 pointed one of the inferior judges ; and, after passing 
 through various gradations of preferment, was raised 
 to the bench ol the supreme civil court in the year 1792 ; 
 and in the same year was made one of the judges in 
 the High Court of Justiciary. In his judicial capacity 
 he was distinguished by a profound knowledge of law, 
 a patient attention, a clearness of discernment, and an 
 unbiassed impartiality, which excited general admira- 
 tion. But his comitry was soon deprived of his valua- 
 ble services, for he was seized with a distemper, which 
 temiinated his existence in November 1795. 
 
 ' Amidst the numerous and fatiguing duties of his 
 profession, Abercromby found leisure to indulge his 
 passion for elegant literature. Of the correctness and 
 cultivation of his taste, we have some very happy speci- 
 mens in the papers which he contributed to the Mir- 
 ror, a periodical work published at Edinburgh in 1779, 
 and conducted chieily by the Faculty of Advocates, a 
 class of men whose genius and learnuig do honour to 
 their country. 
 
 The Mirror was revived, though under a different 
 name, in the year 1785-6, by the same gentlemen who 
 had established it at first. To this new work, which 
 was called the Lounger, Abercromby contributed nine 
 papers, which are remarkable for easy and elegant 
 composition, justness of sentiment, and die extensive 
 knowledge which they display of human life, (ft.) 
 
 ABERDEEN, capital of the county to which it gives 
 name, and the principal city in the north of Scotland, 
 consists, in reality, of two distinct towns, called Old and 
 New Aberdeen, situated at the distance of about a mile 
 from each other, and having separate privileges, char- 
 ters, and magistrates. 
 
 Old Aberdeen stands upon an eminence which rises 
 from the bank of the river Don, about a mile from the 
 sea. The history of its origin is unknown, but it must 
 be one of the most ancient towns in Scotland ; for at the 
 end of the ninth centvny, it seems to have been a place 
 of importance, and is said to have received some pecu- 
 liar privileges from king Gregory the Great. His 
 charter was lost, however, when the town was burnt by 
 the English ; and the oldest authentic charter now ex- 
 tant, is that of David I. who, in the year 1 154, trans- 
 lated the episcopal see from Morthelach to Aberdeen, 
 which he erected into a free borough of barony, holding 
 directly of the crown. This charter has been repeat- 
 edly renewed by different sovereigns, and was finally 
 confiiTned by an act of George I. which vests in the 
 free burgesses of the town the power of electing their 
 own magistrates. 
 
 About the beginning of the 14th century, the citizens 
 who had adhered to Robert Bruce, driven to despair 
 by the atrocities of the English garrison, came upon 
 them by surprise, and having seized the castle, put 
 them all to the sword. Some English soldiers, who 
 happened to be in the neighbourhood, advanced imme- 
 diately to revenge the death of their countrymen ; but 
 they were met in the church-yard of St Nicholas by 
 the Aberdonians, who defeated them with great slaugh- 
 ter. These disasters were afterwards amply revenged'. 
 
 In the >car 1333, a fleet having been sent by Edward 
 IH. to ravage the eastern coasts of Scotland, a body of 
 English troops landed by night, and falling upon Aber- 
 deen by surprise, butchered a great immber of the in- 
 haljitanls ; and were employed for six whole days in 
 burning and pillaging the town, 'i'hree years after, 
 when Edward himself in person invaded Scotland, and 
 penetrated with an army as far north as Inverness, the 
 citizens of Aberdeen encountered a party of English 
 troops who had landed at Dunnotcr, and slew their 
 leader. Enraged by this misfortune, Edward attacked 
 Aberdeen on his return from the north, massacred the 
 greater number of the iiUiabitants, and again reduced 
 the town to rums. A new city was soon erected, how- 
 ever, in a different situation, which, to distinguish it 
 from that which had been destroyed, was called thc 
 New Town of Aberdeen. Aberdeen was so much en- 
 deared to David Bruce for its steady and zealous loyal- 
 ty to his father and himself, that he honoured it for 
 some time with his residence, and erected there a mint 
 from which he issued various coins. During the civil 
 commotions which agitated Scotland in the year 1644, 
 the marquis of Montrose approached this town with 
 about 2000 men, and summoned it to surrender. With 
 this summons, it was not likely that a town, which had 
 on all occasions displayed so much spirit, would readily 
 comply, particularly as it was defended by a force un- 
 der the command of lord Burleigh, not much inferior 
 in number to that of the assailants. A battle accord- 
 ingly ensued, in which Montrose prevailed, and many 
 of the principal inhabitants were slain. 
 
 Old Aberdeen, though now completely eclipsed by 
 the splendour of the New Tov.n, could once boast of 
 several magnificent edifices, and still contains some 
 respectable buildings. Over the Don there is a fine 
 bridge of Gothic architecture, built by bishop Cheyne 
 in 1281. The span of its arch is 67 feet, and its height 
 from the surface of the river, 34i feet. But tlie prin- 
 cipal ornament of this town was its cathedral, dedicated 
 to St Machar, whose former magnificence is strikingly 
 indicated by two antique spires, and an aisle now occu- 
 pied as the parish church, which are its only remains. 
 It was founded in 1154, when the episcopal see was 
 translated from Morthelach ; but having eitlier become 
 ruinous, or being deemed not sufficiently elegant, it 
 was taken down, and founded anew by bishop Alexan- 
 der Kenninmouth in 1357. Nearly 80 years were oc- 
 cupied in building it, and it was at length completed 
 by bishop William Elphinstone, who was lord chan- 
 cellor of Scotland, in the reign of James III. and keep- 
 er of liie privy seal to the succeeding monarch. In the 
 cathedral, there was a valuable library, which was de- 
 stroyed at the Reformation, by those worse than Sara- 
 cen barbarians, who demolished besides the venerable 
 edifice itself. To the same munificent prelate, Aber- 
 deen is indebted for its university. In the year 1494, 
 he obtained from pope Alexander a bull, impowering 
 him to institute studium gen^'rale, et iinh'er.iiiatis siudil 
 generalis, for theology, medicine, canon and civil law, 
 the liberal arts, and every lawful faculty, with the right 
 of granting degrees according to the merits of the stu- 
 dents. Twelve years elapsed after the date of this 
 bull, before the college w-as founded. It was at first 
 dedicated to the Virgin Mary, but, being greatly pa- 
 tronized by the king, it was afterwards denominated 
 King's College. It is a large and stately structure, 
 containing- a chapel, library, mtiseiim, common hall;
 
 ABERDEEN. 
 
 19 
 
 aiKl lecture I'ooms. Coniicclccl vviili this college, there 
 is a long row of modern houses lor the aceonwiodtition 
 of the professors, and such of the students as choose to 
 reside there. Behind those buildings is the garden of 
 the college, with a house and garden, api)roi)riated to 
 the principal. The museum is well furnished, and tlie 
 library is valuable. A fund, amounting to about 7000/. 
 is appropriated for bursaries to students who stand ui 
 need of such support. Hector Uaethius, well known 
 for his history of Scotland, was invited liom Paris to 
 be its fust principal, and was allowed a salary of 40 
 nicrks Scots, equivalent to 21. 3*. 4t/. sterling. Besides 
 nine professors, this college has a chancellor, general- 
 ly a nobleman; a rector, intitled lord rector; a princi- 
 pal, a sub-principal, and a procurator, who is intrust- 
 ed with the management of the funds. There is in 
 Old Aberdeen a neat town-house, built a few years 
 ago at the expense of the conmiunity, a trade's hospi- 
 tal for decayed burgesses and their widows, and an 
 hospital for 12 poor men, founded by Gavin Dunbar, 
 who died in 1532. The magistrates of this town are, 
 a provost, three bailiffs, a treasurer, and council, with 
 the deacons of six incorporated trades. 
 
 New Aberdeen, situated on a rising ground near 
 tne estuary of the Dee, is a large and elegant town. 
 It has many fine streets, whose sides are lined with 
 handsome houses, generally four floors in height, built 
 of granite from the neighbouring quarries. In this 
 town the notice of strangers is attracted by several 
 public buildings, which do the highest honour to the 
 taste and spirit of the inhabitants. On the north side 
 of the market-place, a large oblong square in the cen- 
 tre of the city, is the town-house, adorned with an ele- 
 gant spire; and adjoining to it is the prison, a square 
 tower 120 feet high, which is likewise surmounted by 
 a spire, so that the whole has a very lofty appearance. 
 An elegant mason lodge contiguous to this, and a bank- 
 ing office of polished granite recently erected, opposite 
 the town-house, give to this part of the town an air of 
 peculiar splendour. The cross, which stands in the 
 middle of Castle-street, is the most complete perhaps 
 in the kingdom. It is an octagon stone building, orna- 
 mented with elegant bas-relievos of the kings of Scot- 
 land, from James I. to James VI. having in the centre 
 a Corinthian column, on the top of which there is the 
 figure of an unicorn. But the principal building in 
 New Aberdeen is the Marischal college, founded by 
 George Keith, earl Marischal, in 1593. It stands in 
 Broad-street, and contains, besides lecture rooms, a 
 public school for conferring degrees, a common hall, 
 decorated with some fine paintings, chiefly by Jamie- 
 son ; a library, a small museum of natural history and 
 antiquities, and an observatory, well furnished with as- 
 trononpcal apparatus. Its original establishment was 
 a principal, and two pi'ofessors of philosophy ; but there 
 have since been added, by the munificence of rich in- 
 dividuals, a third professorship of philosophy, and 
 others, of divinity, mathematics, chemistry, medicine, 
 and oriental languages. There are likewise many bur- 
 saries for poor students. The officers of this college 
 are, the chancellor, tlie rector, the dean of faculties, the 
 regent, who is also, ex officio, professor of Greek, and 
 the principal. In the two colleges of Aberdeen, there 
 were, in the year 1808, between 300 and 400 students. 
 New Aberdeen has lately been much improved by the 
 opening of two elegant streets, one forming an entrance 
 from the north, and the other from tJic soutlr. The 
 
 latter passes over a majestic arch of cut granite, the 
 span of which is 130 feet, its height 29 feet, and its 
 width within the parapets 40. In the Upper Kirkgatc 
 is a church which formerly belonged to the Francis- 
 cans, and which was founded by bishop Klphinstone, 
 and finished by one of his successors. Over the Dec 
 there is a fine bridge of seven arches, said to have been 
 first projected by Elphinstone, who left a considerable 
 legacy for the purpose of l)uilding it, and to have been 
 completed by bishop Dunbar in the year 1530; it was 
 repaired, or rather rebuilt, in 1724, by the magistrates 
 of Aberdeen. 
 
 While the buildings of Aberdeen thus display the 
 taste of its inhabitants, its numerous charitable institu- 
 tions bear a still more honourable testimony to their hu- 
 manity. Of these, we shall only mention the poor-house, 
 appropriated to the reception of the aged poor, and of 
 destitute children; Lady Drum's hospital for old un- 
 married women, founded in 1668, by the lady Mary, 
 daughter of the earl of Buchan, ajid widow of sir Alex- 
 ander Irvine of Drum ; Gordon's hospital, founded in 
 1733, in which, from 60 to 66 boys are clothed, main- 
 tained, and educated ; the infirmary, established in 1742, 
 in which about 900 patients are annually relieved ; the 
 dispensaries which have annually from 200 to 300 pa- 
 tients on the books of charity ; and the lunatic asy- 
 lum, built by subscription, about half a mile from town, 
 in the year 1800. 
 
 Aberdeen carries on a considerable commerce, chief- 
 ly to the Baltic ; though a few of its njerchants trade 
 to the Levant, and West Indies. Its exports are knit 
 stockings, for the manufacture of which it was long 
 unrivalled, thread, salmon, grain and incal. The manu- 
 facture of fine thread is carried on to a considerable 
 extent, and the manufacture of brown linen, osnaburgs, 
 and canvas, has lately been introduced. It seems ra- 
 ther a reflection on the enterprising spirit of the in- 
 habitants, that not a single decked vessel has been fit- 
 ted out from their port for the prosecution of the her- 
 ring or w'hite fisheries, for which their situation is so 
 peculiarly favourable. Till lately, the trade of Aber- 
 deen was much obstructed by the difficulty and dan- 
 ger of approaching its harbour, occasioned by a bar of 
 sand which was perpetually shiftirig its situation. A 
 new pier, erected on the north side of the river, ac- 
 cording to a plan designed by Mr Smcaton, has ef- 
 fectually remedied that inconvenience. The pier is 
 1200 feet long, increasing in height and thickness as 
 it approaches the sea, where the rounding is 60 feet 
 diameter at the base, and the perpendicular elevation 
 28 feet. Near it are two batteries, mounting ten twelve- 
 pounders. The number of British ships entered at 
 Aberdeen in 1795, amounted to 61; of foreign vessels 
 5 ; and of British ships cleared out, 28. Aberdeen, 
 united with the Ijoroughs of Aljerbrothock, Brechin, 
 Inverbervie, and Montrose, sends one member to par- 
 liament. Its civil government is vested in a provost, 
 styled lord provost, four bailies, a dean of guild, trea- 
 surer, and town-clerk, a town council, and seven dea- 
 cons of the incorpoi*atcd trades. The united popula- 
 tion of Old and New Aberdeen, amounted, in 1795, to 
 24,493; in 1801, to 27,508. It is situated ill W. Long. 
 2° 8'. N. Lat. 57° 9'; about 106 miles north-cast from 
 Edinburgh, (/x) 
 
 ABERDEENSHIRE, a county in the nortli of Scot- 
 land, bounded by the German ocean on the east; by 
 the counties of Kincardine, Angus, and Perth, on the 
 C 2
 
 20 
 
 ABE 
 
 ABE 
 
 south ; unci by the counties of Inverness, Moray, ami 
 Bantl, on the west. It contains 85 parishes, 1 170 square 
 miles; and, in 1801, its population was r23,Ob'2, being 
 an increase of 6246 since the year 1755. The inland 
 part of the county is, in general, wld, barren, and 
 mountainous, tiiough the eye is Irequtntly relieved by 
 large forests ot natural wood, which stretch along the 
 sides of the hills. That part of the county which bor- 
 ders on the coast is more fertile, though still suscepti- 
 ble of great improvement. It slopes gradually from 
 the central districts to the sea, where it terminates in 
 ■A bold, rocky coast, occasionally rising into stupendous 
 precipices, which arrest the attention of every travel- 
 ler. The principal rivers which traverse the county, 
 are the Dee, the Don, the Ythan, the Ugie, and the 
 Cruden, which are all celebrated for the excellent sal- 
 mon with which they abound. In the Ythan several 
 pearls have been found, which sold separately at two 
 and three pounds sterling. 
 
 The shapes and the various connexions and grou- 
 pings of the mountains of this county are still imper- 
 fectly known ; and we have but little information res- 
 pecting the geognostic structure and relations of the 
 numerous rocks and minerals that render this part of 
 Scotland so very interesting. It would appear from 
 the observations that have been published, and the se- 
 ries of specimens which we have had opportunities of 
 examining, that the following rocks and simple mine- 
 rals occur in Aberdeenshire. Rocks, Priinitrue rocks, 
 granite, gneiss, mica-slate, clay slate, hornblende-slate, 
 hornblende rock, primitive limestone, and sienite. Fldtz 
 rocks, sandstone, and limestone. Simple minerals. 
 Topaz found near Cairngorum ; rock-crystal, at Cairn- 
 gorum and other places, falsely denominated topaz. 
 Agates, common quartz, crystallized. Also amethyst, 
 cyanite, mica, with radiated fracture. Precious beryl, 
 calx-spar in various forms, gray manganese ore. From 
 the granite, or sienite, quarries, 12,000 tons of that 
 stone, valued at 8400/. are annually exported to Lon- 
 don. The limestone is very abundant, but, from the 
 scarcity of coal, it cannot be wrought to much advan- 
 tage. The county contains many mineral waters, and 
 tliose of Peterhead and Glendee are much resorted to 
 for their medicinal qualities. The principal manufac- 
 ture in the county was formerly the knitting of stock- 
 ings and hose, in which great numbers of the common 
 people were engaged; but the linen and sail-cloth ma- 
 nufactures have been lately introduced with great 
 success into Aberdeen, Peterhead, and Huntly. The 
 valued rent of Aberdeenshire is 235,665/. Ss. Wcl. 
 Scotch, and the real land-rent was lately estimated at 
 133,632/. sterling, (r) (to) 
 
 ABERGAVENNY, an irregular, though beautiful 
 town, in Monmouthshire, supposed to be the Gibba- 
 nium of Antoninus. It is delightfully situated in a 
 range of meadows, at the confluence of the rivers Usk 
 and Gavenny, and incircled by several projecting hills, 
 which abound in coal, iron ore, and limestone. The 
 Gothic bridge over the Usk, consisting of 15 arches, 
 is almost the only public building deserving of notice. 
 On the south side of the town are the ruins of a castle 
 which is celebrated in the history of Wales ; and to the 
 east lies St Michael's Mount, in which there is a chasm, 
 supposed by the vulgar to have been made at the cru- 
 cifixion. It is resorted to by devotees, who carry off 
 the sacred soil in handkerchiefs and carts, in order to 
 enrich their fields. A few miles from Abergavenny 
 
 lie the ruins of Llantony aljbey, imbosomcd in the 
 deepest recesses of tlie black mountains. Ills founded 
 on the site ot a chapel supposed to have been the resi- 
 dence ot St David, tiie tutelary saint ot the Welsh, 
 and was rebuilt by sir William cle Lacey in 1 108. The 
 town has a consideraole trade in ilannels. Population 
 in 1801, 2573. W. Long. 3" 5'. N. Lat. 51° ou'. (to) 
 ABKHNETIIY, a small town in Scotland, situated 
 on the river Tuy, about six miles irom Penli. it is 
 said to have been founded in 460, and to nave been the 
 capital of tae ancieni British kings. Tnere was a re- 
 ligious house here, which afterwards became a bishop's 
 see. The Culdees, whose history is so obscure, had in 
 this place a university, and a collegiate church, which 
 is known to have subsisted towards the end of the 
 thirteenth century. At Abernethy is a singular tower, 
 of a circular form, 74 feet high, and 48 in circumfer- 
 ence. There is one of the same construction at Bre- 
 chin, and several similar ones in Ireland. Tiiese build- 
 ings have been supposed by some to be watch-towers; 
 others imagine that they were belfries tor summoning 
 the people to prayers ; while a third class maintain, 
 that they were penitentiary towers lor the reception of 
 hermits. Popwlation in 1801, 1355. See Ciialmer's 
 Vattdonia. Innes's Critical Jinrjuirij. Keith's History of 
 the Bislto/is. Ledwich's Antiquities. See also St An- 
 drews, (c) 
 
 ABERNETHY, John, an eminent dissenting cler- 
 gyman, was born at Coleraine on the 19th of October, 
 1680. In consequence of an insurrection in Ireland, 
 his mother was obliged to retire with her family to 
 Deny, in the siege of which she lost all her children 
 except John, who was at that time living with a rela- 
 tion. As no opportunity could be obtained of convey- 
 ing him to his mother at Derry, he accompanied his 
 friend to Scotland, in order to escape the fury of the 
 Irish rebels. 
 
 At the age of thirteen he went to the university of 
 Glasgow, where he took his degree of A. M. ; and from 
 this he removed to Edinburgh, to prosecute the study 
 of divinity. He was ordained minister of the dissent- 
 ing congregation at Antrim in 1 708 ; but being one of 
 those who opposed the subscription of the Westmin- 
 ster Confession, he and his friends were, in 1726, ex- 
 cluded by the synod, who revived the act of 1705, re- 
 quiring subscription from every candidate for the min- 
 istry. From the great influence of the synod, his con- 
 gregation began to desert him ; in consequence of 
 which he accepted of an invitation from the congrega- 
 tion of Wood-Street, Dublin, to which he removed in 
 1730. In this situation he continued for ten years, and 
 enjoyed the respect and esteem of all who knew him ; 
 but a sudden attack of the gout, with which he had 
 been formerly seized, put an end to his life in Decem- 
 ber 1740, in the sixtieth year of his age. 
 
 As a preacher Mr Abernethy was much admired ; 
 and his talents for public speaking gave him great in- 
 fluence in the synod. In private life he was distin- 
 guished by vivacity of disposition, urbanity of manners, 
 and by the whole train of domestic virtues. 
 
 The independence of his mind, and his attachment 
 to civil and religious liberty, were conspicuous in the 
 exertions which he made to emancipate the Irish 
 dissenters from the operation of the test laws, those 
 striking proofs of the bigotry and illiberal policy of our 
 ancestors. The most celebrated of Mr Abernethy's 
 works is his Discourses on the Divine Attributes. Two
 
 ABEllKATJO^. 
 
 21 
 
 volumes of his ''icrmons were published in 1748, and 
 other two in 1757, to which is preiixcd an account of 
 his liic, supposed to be written by Dv Duchal. He 
 also left Ijelund hun a diary of his life in six volumes 
 4to. (to) 
 
 ABERRATION, in Astronomy, is a change in the 
 positioii of the fixed siars, arisintj from the progres- 
 sive motion of light, combined with the annual motion 
 of the earth, by means of wliich they sometimes ap- 
 pear twenty seconds distant from their true position. 
 
 This apparent motion of the lieavenly bodies was de- 
 tected in 1725, by our celebrated countryman Dr Hrad- 
 Icy, and is one of the most brilliant discoveries whicli 
 has enriched the science of astronomy. 
 
 During the seventeenth century, the supporters of 
 the Copernican system laboured to prove the annual 
 motion of the earth, by detecting a change in the posi- 
 tion of the fixed stars. They supposed, that if ASBD 
 was the earth's orbit, A its position in December, B its 
 position in June, and S any fixed star, the observer on 
 the earth at A would see the star S, in the point >i of 
 the heavens ; while the observer, when the earth came 
 to B, would see it in the part m, the star having appear- 
 ed to move through the arch m ?i, equal to the angle 
 ASB, or the angle subtended at the star, by the diame- 
 ter of the earth's orbit. They saw, that when the star 
 S was in the pole of the ecliptic, or cqui-distant from 
 A and B, this angle was a maximum ; for the angle AsB, 
 subtended by AB, at any other star s, is evidently less 
 than ASB, and therefore they selected a star nearest to 
 the pole of the ecliptic, with the hope of detecting the 
 earth's annual parallax, and thus putting to silence the 
 abettors of the Ptolemaic and Tychonic systems. 
 
 With this view, Dr Hooke made a number of obser- 
 vations in 1669, on y Draconis; and he informs us in 
 his Attcmf-it to firove the Motion of the Earth from Ob- 
 seroations^ that he found this star 25" more northerly 
 in July than in October. These observations, how- 
 ever, were not accurate, as afterwards appeared from 
 those which were made by Dr Bradley upon the same 
 star. 
 
 About the same time, M. Picard, when going to 
 Uraniburg to determine the difference of longitude be- 
 tween it and Paris, had observed the motions of the 
 pole star, and found a variation amounting to nearly 40" 
 in a year. As this variation was in a direction opposite 
 to that which should have been produced by the paral- 
 lax of the earth's orbit, Picard confessed himself unable 
 to account for it; but insisted that the error in his ob- 
 servations at Uraniburg could not amount to 1 0". Col- 
 lect. Observat. Paris, 1691. 
 
 In 1680, Mr Flamstead made a number of observa- 
 tions on the pole star. He found that its declination 
 was 40" less in July than in December ; and falling into 
 the same error as Dr Hooke, he endeavoured to show 
 that this variation was the effect of the annual parallax. 
 Cassini and Manfredi nmintained, that the motion of 
 the earth could not account for the observed variation ; 
 but none of them were able to give an adequate explana- 
 tion of the annual changes which every astronomer ob- 
 served in the position of the stars. 
 
 In order to confirm the observations of Dr. Hooke, 
 Mr. Samuel Molyneux erected an instrument, about 
 the eiKl of November, 1725, constrvicted by the cele- 
 brated Mr Graham. He made his first observation on 
 y Draconis on the 3d December, nri- ' , r-p; ated it on 
 the 10th, llth, and 12th of the same month; but this 
 
 was done rather with tlic intention of uyuig the instru- 
 ment, than detecting any parallax in the stars, as no 
 sensible alteration ol the parallax could liave been ex- 
 pected at that season of the year. Dr Bradley was at 
 this time on a visit to Mr Molyneux at Ke^, (Brad- 
 ley's Letter to HuUey, I'hil. Trans. 172B,) and being 
 anxious to try the new instrument, he oljservcd y Dra- 
 conis on the 17th December, and found that it was 
 more southerly tiian it had been when Mr Molyneu.x 
 observed it about the beginning of the month. This 
 variation tiiey naturally ascribed to the inaccuracy of 
 their observations; but upon rei)eating them on the 
 20th of December, they tound that the star was still 
 continuing to move southward. The direction of this 
 motion, however, being opposite to that which would 
 have been produced by parallax, tliey were more per- 
 plexed than belore; and, as they were satisfied of the 
 accuracy of their observations, they began to suspect 
 the correctness of the instrument. But being convinced, 
 from many trials, thattheir suspicions were groundless, 
 they continued to observe the star, and found that on 
 the beginning of March, 1726, it had moved 20" south 
 since the commencement of their observations ; — that 
 it remained stationary till the middle of April, when 
 its motion was northerly; — that it continued to move 
 northward till the month of September, when it again 
 became stationary, havuig advanced 20" farther north 
 tlian it was in June ; and that it again resumed its mo- 
 tion towards the south. The law of the variation in the 
 motion of the fixed stars being thus determhied, Dr Brad- 
 ley became very anxious to discover its cause. In his first 
 speculations on trhis subject, he ascribed these changes 
 to the nutation of the earth's axis ; but this hvpolhesis 
 was soon abandoned; for he afterwards saw, that stars 
 which, from the equality of their polar distances, ought 
 to have had the same nutation, sustained very different 
 changes of declination. 
 
 Eager to investigate these curious phenomena. Dr. 
 Bradley determined to erect an accurate instrument 
 for himself at Wanstead, and, with the assistance of 
 Mr Graham, it was ready for use on the 19th August, 
 1727. After a number of interesting observations, con- 
 tinued for the space of a year, from which he satisfied 
 himself completely respecting the general laws of the 
 phenomena, he again directed the whole energy of his 
 mind to discover their cause. A change in the direc- 
 tion of the plumb-line which adjusted his instrument, 
 and an elevation of the stars by the refraction of the 
 atmosphere, soon occurred to him as sources of ex- 
 planation; but, being inadequate to account for the 
 phenomena, they were as quickly rejected. In this 
 state of perplexity, the discovery of Roemer concern- 
 ing the successive propagation of light, came into his 
 mind, and he instantly saw, that all the phenomena 
 which he had observed, might be occasioned by the 
 motion of the earth in its orbit, combined with the suc- 
 cessive propagation of light. 
 
 In order to understand this, let us suppose, that a 
 particle of light, coming from a star, is at A when the 
 eye is at B, and that light moves through the space 
 AC in the same time that the eye, by the annual mo- 
 tion of the earth, moves tlirough BC. By taking any 
 point E, and drawing ED parallel to BA, tl»e particle 
 of light v/ill evidently be at D, when the eye has moved 
 to E, for CD : CA=CE : CB (Euclid, VI Prop. 2.) 
 Let us now suppose, that AB is a telescope or tube, 
 moving parallel to itself, then it is manifest that the
 
 22 
 
 ABERRATION. 
 
 particle of light will iilways appear in the tube, and con- 
 sequently the star from whicli it comes will be seen in 
 the direction of the tube ; that is, in the directions B A, 
 ED, CF, when the eye is at 15, E, and C, successively : 
 But the l*ht from tlie star comes in directions parallel 
 to AC, because the real place of the star is in that direc- 
 tion; consequently the aberration, or the dirCercnce be- 
 tween the real and apparent place of the star, will be 
 the angle ACF, which may be computed tiigonomctri- 
 cally, by having the velocity of light, the velocity of the 
 earth in its orbit, and the place of the star. 
 
 The following Table contains the greatest aberration 
 in right ascension and declination of the principal fixed 
 stars for 1800 Larger tables may be seen in the lijihe- 
 vieride.i de i^ienne, 1 773, 1 784, 1785; E/iliemerUles dc Ber- 
 lin, 1776 ; Comwissaiicedes Tcm/is, 1781,1789,1 790, 1791. 
 
 Names of 
 ten princi- 
 pal fi.\ed 
 stars. 
 
 Longitude vt 
 the sini, when 
 the aberration 
 in right ascen- 
 sion is lor 
 1800. 
 
 lircatesl 
 .iberra- 
 tion in 
 light as- 
 cension 
 
 Longitude of 
 the sun, when 
 the aberration 
 in declination 
 is for 1800. 
 
 Greatest 
 aberra- 
 tion in 
 declina- 
 tion. 
 
 Aldebaran, 
 
 5' 
 
 7" 53' 
 
 20" 5 
 
 4' 6° 49' 
 
 3" 8 
 
 Capella, 
 
 5 
 
 16 58 
 
 28.5 
 
 8 3 23 
 
 8.0 
 
 Betalgeus, 
 
 5 
 
 26 25 
 
 20. 2 
 
 3 1 48 
 
 5.6 
 
 Sirius, 
 
 6 
 
 8 21 
 
 20.8 
 
 9 4 
 
 12.8 
 
 Regulus, 
 
 7 
 
 27 13 
 
 19.3 
 
 1 25 47 
 
 6.9 
 
 Spica, 
 
 9 
 
 20 1 3 
 
 18.8 
 
 9 26 2 
 
 7.6 
 
 Arcturus, 
 
 10 
 
 3 54 
 
 20.0 
 
 2 1 25 
 
 12.3 
 
 Antares, 
 
 11 
 
 6 10 
 
 21.9 
 
 1 12 
 
 3.8 
 
 Lyra, 
 
 Ariuila, 
 
 
 
 6 55 
 
 25. 6 
 
 3 5 17 
 
 17.7 
 
 
 
 23 24 
 
 19.9 
 
 3 6 52 
 
 10. 4 
 
 It is a remarkable circumstance, that from the theory 
 of the first satellite of Jupiter, M. La Place has found 
 for the entire aberration, 37" 5, a result exactly the same 
 as that which Bradley deduced from a great number of 
 delicate observations on the fixed stars. From this 
 curious coincidence, La Place concludes, that the velo- 
 city of light in all the space comprehended by the 
 earth's orbit, is the same as at the circumference of this 
 orbit, and that the same thing holds with regard to the 
 orbit of Jupiter. See Preface to his Mecaiii(/ue Celeste, 
 tom. iv. p. 1 1 . For farther information on this subject. 
 See P/iil. Trans, vol. xxxv. p. 637. Id. 1782. p. 58. 
 Mem. Acad. Paris, 1737, p. 205. Mem. Acad. Berlin, 
 tom. ii. 1746, p. 14. J^'ov. Jcad> Petrofi. i. 446. T. 
 Simpson's Essays on several Subjects, 1740; Trail e sur 
 rA/icrralion, /larFontn'mcs des Crutes, 1744; Boscovi- 
 chii Opera, tom. v. p. 417. 1785. Connoissante des 
 Tem/is, 1788. Trigonometrie, {lar M. Cagnoli, § 790, 
 791; and Vince's Astronomxj, vol. i. ch. 22. See As- 
 tronomy, Index, {tj) 
 
 ABERRATION of a planet, in longitude, latitude, 
 right ascension, and declination, is its geocentric motion 
 in longitude, latitude, &c. during the time that light 
 travels from the planet to the earth. The time, for 
 example, in which light moves from the sun to the 
 earth, is 8' 8" ; and during this time, the geocentric mo- 
 tion of the sun in longitude, is 20", consequently 20" is 
 the sun's aberration in longitude. The greatest aber- 
 ration of the several planets when in perihelion, or 
 nearest the sun, is. Mercury 59". 5, Venus 43". 5, 
 Mars 36", Jupiter 29", Saturn 27", Georgium Sidus 
 ^5", Moon 0" 40'". See the memoir.s on this subject 
 
 by Claruiit and Euler, in the Mem. Acad. Par, 1746; 
 Mem. Acad. Berl. tom. ii. for 1746 ; Comment. Pe- 
 iro/to/. 1759, tom. ii. Sec also Epliemeridra dc Paris, 
 tom. viii. Pliil. Trans, vol. Ix. p. 536, and Vince's An- 
 (ronumij, vol. i. p. 332. (w) 
 
 ABERRATION, in Optics, is of two kinds ; Aber- 
 ration of colour, or refrangihilitij, sometimes called 
 Cliromatic aberration ; and Aberration of sjihericity, or 
 apherical aberration. 
 
 When a beam of white light falls upon a spherical 
 lens, the violet, or most refrangible rays, cross the axLs 
 at a point nearer the lens, than the red or least refran- 
 gible rays. The distance between the point, where the 
 red ray intersects the axis, and the geometrical focus, is 
 called the longitudinal chromatic aberration of the red 
 ray ; and its lateral chromatic aberration is measured by 
 a line perpendicular to the axis, and drawn from the lo- 
 cus till it meet the refracted ray. 
 
 In consequence of the spherical figure of the lens, 
 the red, or any other kind of rays that pass nearest the 
 centre of the lens, meet the axis in a point nearer the 
 lens than those whicli pass at a greater distance from 
 the centre. The distance between this point and the 
 geometrical focus, is called the longitudinal s/iherical 
 aberration ; and the distance of the geometrical focus 
 from the refracted ray, in a line perpendicular to the 
 axis, is called the lateral s/iherical aberration. The same 
 kind of aberration is produced by reflection from sphe- 
 rical specula. When the speculum is parabolic, and 
 the point from which the rays proceed infinitely distant, 
 there is no aberration, as all the rays meet in the geo- 
 metrical focus. There is also no spherical aberration 
 for parallel rays in the meniscus lens AB, Fig. 4. when 
 its convex surface ACB, is part of a prolate spheroid, 
 and its concave surface AEB, formed with a radius less 
 than FC, the distance between the vertex of the lens 
 and the fatrhcr focus of the spheroid. If the lens be pla- 
 noconvex, as in Fig. 5. having its convex surface part 
 of a hyperboloid, whose major axis is to the distance 
 between the foci, as the sine of incidence is to the sine 
 of refraction out of the solid into the ambient medium, 
 the parallel rays RR will be refracted to the farther fo- 
 cus F, without any spherical aberration. 
 
 In order to find the lens of least aberration, M. Klin- 
 
 genstierna has given the following general theorem, 
 
 a r(m-\-4 — 2;»2) ..(./•('2w=-f ;«) . , • , ■ , 
 
 ■7= ji — —; — - — . ;^ ; — -. in which a is the radius 
 
 * y('"+4 — 2m2)^r(2/H--f»;) 
 
 of the surface of the lens next the object ; b the radius 
 
 of the other surface ; m the index of refraction, or the 
 
 ratio of the angle of incidence to that of refi-action ; r 
 
 the distance of the radiant point, and ythe focal distance 
 
 • 3 
 
 of the refracted rays. When )n =— and r infinite, -we 
 
 a 1 , a . 
 
 haveT=T; and when m= 1686, we have 7= infimte,or 
 06 t/ 
 
 a plano-convex lens. 
 
 The spherical aberration of lenses being very small, 
 when compared with the chromatic aberration, the con- 
 fusion of images arising from the latter is a great ob- 
 stacle to the perfection of refracting telescopes. The 
 method of removing this confusion to a certain extent, 
 by a combination of lenses of different refractive and 
 dispersive powers, first discovered by Mr Dollond, 
 gave rise to the achromatic telescope, an instrument 
 which has exercised the genius of the most dis- 
 tinguished philosophers. See. Hugenii Dio/itrica ;
 
 ABU 
 
 Alii 
 
 2:i 
 
 I'ldl. Trans. voU. xxxv. xlviii. p. 103 — 287 ; 1. p. 73; 
 Ji. p. 944 ; Hi. p. 17 ; liii. p. 173 ; Iv. p. 54 ; Ix. — Mem. 
 Jlcad.Pai: 1757, 1746; 1752; 1755 ; 175G,p.o80; 1757, 
 p.524; 1762, p. 57B ; 1764, p. 75 ; 1765, p. 53 ; 1767, p. 
 
 43,423 ; 1770, p. 461 Mcm.Jcad. Berlin, 1746; 1761, 
 
 p. 231 ; 1762, p. 66, 343; 1766; 1790; 1791, p. 40 ; 
 1798, p. 3.— Schwcdischcn Ahliandlungen, 1760,/;. 79, 
 944. — A'uv. Comment. Petrofiol. 1762. — Mem. IrUh Acad. 
 vol. iv. p. 171. — Edinb. Trans, vol. iii. part. 2. p. 26 — 
 Comment. Gottnig. vol. xiii. Boscovichii Opera ; and 
 Klingenstienia dc Aberrutionibua Luminis. See also 
 Achromatic Telescopes, and Optics, {iv) 
 
 AliERYSTWITH, a town in South Wales, situated 
 on the river Rydall, near its confluence with the Ist- 
 with, on a bold eminence, which overhangs the bay of 
 Cardigan. The houses are chiefly built of black slate, 
 and the streets are rugged and steep. It is rich and 
 populous ; carries on a trade in lead, calamine, and 
 lish ; and, as a bathing place, is frequented Ijy much 
 company. The walls, and the castle, which was built 
 in 1107, in the reign of Henry I. by Gilbert le Strong- 
 bow, and rebuilt by Edward I. arc now in ruins. In 
 1637, a mint for the coinage of silver, was estaljlished 
 here by king Charles. Population in 1801, 1753. W. 
 Long. 4° 15' 47". N. Lat.52'= 18' 10". {w) 
 
 ABESTA, or Abista, a commentary on two of the 
 religious books of the Persian Magi, called Zend and 
 Pazend. It is held sacred by that sect, and is supposed 
 to be the production of their founder Zoroaster. Ac- 
 cording to Perron, it signifies tlie language of the Ori- 
 ental text of Zoroaster's works. See Hist. Acad. Scicn. 
 Par. 1762. Hyde dc Religione Vetcr. Persarum., cap. 2. 
 D'Herbel. Biblioth. Orient, p. 11. {nv) 
 
 ABEX, or Abesh, a mountainous and barren district 
 of Ethiopia, stretching along the Red Sea for the space 
 of 500 miles, and extending 100 miles into the inte- 
 rior. It is bounded on the north I)y Egypt, on the west 
 by Abyssinia and Nubia, and on the east by the coast 
 of Ajan. Its prmcipal towns arc Suakcm and Arkee- 
 ko ; the former being the capital, where the governor 
 resides. The country is destitute of water ; and the 
 air is so unhealthy, and the heat so excessive, that the 
 wild beasts are more numerous than the Mahommedans, 
 who are its inhabitants. It is subject to the Turks ; 
 and is remarkable for large forests of ebony trees, {tv) 
 
 ABEYANCE, a term in law. If a living becomes 
 vacant bv the death of a clergyman, the free -hold is 
 said to be in abeyance till his successor be inducted ; 
 ior the patron has not the fee-simple, but only the right 
 of presentation, the freehold being in the possession of 
 the incumbent when he is inducted, but in the posses- 
 sion of nobody, or in ai^pyancf, before his induction, (to) 
 
 ABGAR, or Abgarus, a king of Edessa in Mesopo- 
 tamia; who is said to have written a letter to Jesus 
 Christ, imploring him to come and cure a distemper 
 in his feet. Eusebius has preserved both the letter 
 and the answer, which were taken from the archives 
 of the city of Edcssa. The authenticity of these let- 
 ters has been admitted by Parker, Cave, Tillemont, 
 Addison, and denied by Le Clerc, Dupin, Jones, Lard- 
 ner, kc. See Eusebius's Ecclesiast. Hist. lib. i. cap. 3. 
 Jones's Canon of the JVeno Testament, vol. ii. p. 1 ; and 
 Lardncr's Works, vol. vii. p. 222. {iv) 
 
 ABGILLUS, JoHM. Sec Prester John. 
 
 ABHER, sometimes called Hader and Edher, a 
 large city in Persian Irak, or ancient Partiila, contain- 
 ing 2500 houses, and governed by a dcroga, It is de- 
 
 lightfully situated on a small river, and adorned with 
 s])icndid buildings and gardens of immense extent. E. 
 Long. 50° 59'. N. Lai. 36. 14'. (w) 
 
 AUIIORRERS, the name of a political party in Eng- 
 land, whirl) existed in the year 1680; the same year 
 in v/hich the epithets of Whig and T(jry were intro- 
 duced. They were violent enemies ol the democratic 
 part of our constitution, and courted the royal favour, 
 by expressing their abhorrence against the fietidoners, 
 or, those who petitioned for redress of grievances, or 
 prescribed to the king any time for assembling the 
 parliament. At the meeting of parliament, great num- 
 bers of the abhorrers were seized by the house of 
 commons, and thrown into prison. These arbitrary 
 commitments, however, excited the jealousy of the peo- 
 ple, and were put an end to by the manly courage of 
 one Stowel of Exeter, who was one of the abhorrers. 
 See Hume's History of England, vol. viii. p. 128, 132, 
 133. {iv) 
 
 ABIANS, the name of a strolling association of 
 Thracians or Scythians, who lived in the wagons 
 which carried their provisions. They devolved the cul- 
 tivation of their lands upon others, from whom they 
 received a small sum, suflicicnt for supplying them 
 with the necessaries of life. The Abians were remarka- 
 ble for their integrity, and are denominated by Homer 
 <n'Sg4i7ro( S;KaioTaT<o. See Strabo, tom. i. p. 454, See. {vj) 
 
 ABINGDON, a market town in Berkshire, situated 
 at the confluence of the Ock and the Thames, and 
 said to have been built by Cissa, king of the West Sax- 
 ons, A. D. 517. It was incorporated by Queen Mary ; 
 and is supposed by bishop Gibson to be Cloiieshoe, the 
 place mentioned in the Saxon annals, where a synod 
 was held in 742, and another in 822. Abingdon carries 
 on a considerable trade in malt and corn, which are 
 conveyed down the Thames to London in barges. It 
 has also a manufacture of sail-cloth and sacking. Po- 
 pulation in 1801,4356. W.Long. 1° 15' 57". N. Lat. 
 51° 40' 3". See Maton's Tour. ' {iv) 
 
 ABINGDON, a town at the head of the tide waters 
 of Bush river, in the county of Hartford, Maryland, 
 remarkable for a College, which was instituted there 
 by the methodists in 1785, and called Cokesburgh, in 
 honour of their two principal bishops. It is 78 miles 
 S. W. of Philadelphia, {iv) 
 
 ABIPONIANS, or Abipons, a migratory race in- 
 habiting the district or province of Chaco, in Paraguay, 
 who believe themselves sprung from the devil, and 
 consider him as represented by the Pleiades uv the 
 heavens. They are a strong and robust people, patient 
 of fatigue, and of exposure to the inclemency of the 
 seasons. Most of them have small black eyes, and all 
 of them thick black hair. Their restlessness is such, 
 that they seldom continue long in one fixed place of 
 habitation ; which is changed with the greater facility, 
 as both the males and females are equestrians. 
 Hunting, swimming, and running their horses, engage 
 their constant attention, when unoccupied by the fre- 
 quent wars carried on with their neighbours. These 
 are so numerous, that the boundaries of this tribe are 
 only to be ascertained by those of the adjoining nations. 
 When travelling, their whole property is carried along 
 with theiTi ; the women riding on horseback in the same 
 manner as the men. No nation in America abounds 
 more with horses ; some individuals possessing above 
 forty. There are immense herds of these animals run- 
 ning v/ild, from which many are caught and tamed-
 
 24 
 
 ABI 
 
 ABL 
 
 Besides, they will soinc.times, in one incursion agamst 
 the Spaniards, take three or tour thousand. Tlie wo- 
 men, contrary to what generally happens among sav- 
 age nations, suffer severely in parturition ; which is 
 thought to be the consequence ol tlieir equestrian ex- 
 ercises compressing the hones during adolescence. 
 The men seldom marry tili after twenty-five, and the 
 women rarely betore twenty years of age. The ciiildren 
 are nursea until the thii'd year ; and polygamy being 
 common among the Abiponians, mothers not only tre- 
 quently murder their own children, lest during that 
 time the aflections of their husbands may be estranged 
 from them, but even procure abortions by violent means. 
 This they do with absolute impunity : and there are in- 
 stances of some mothers havmg, without opposition, 
 destroyed all their children as soon as they were bom. 
 Yet, notwithstanding this unnatural custom, those chil- 
 dren that die by disease arc bitterly regretted. 
 
 These people consult soothsayers, who possess an 
 unlimited iniluence over them ; and, by this means, pre- 
 scribe the manner, time, and place, of invading an ene- 
 my, hunting wild beasts. Sec. If one of their sooth- 
 sayers persuades them to battle, he rides round the 
 troops, imprecating evil on the enemy, and striking the 
 air with a palm-branch, accompanied by many gesticu- 
 lations : and this ceremony is esteemed sufficient to in- 
 sure victory. These impostors pretend that they are 
 inmiortal ; and that they have frequent intercourse with 
 the devil. They extort what they please from the cre- 
 dulous people, who dare refuse them nothing. 
 
 The Abiponians are governed by a cacique, or chief; 
 and even admit of female government. When a per- 
 son dies in his own country, he is immediately wrapped 
 up in a hide, and buried with such precipitation, that it 
 is supposed the livhig have sometimes perished by it. 
 The survivors then proceed to destroy every thing that 
 may revive the remembrance of the deceased. The 
 temporary hut which he had erected is overthrown ; 
 his utensils are burned ; and, besides the horses burned 
 along with him, some of the smaller animals are killed. 
 His widow and children migrate to some other coun- 
 try. It is a crime to mention the name of a person de- 
 ceased ; and the very terms of the language that may 
 recal his memory are abolished. Should an Abiponian 
 die in a foreign country, the flesh is stripped from his 
 bones, and he is carried to his own territory. Seven 
 skeletons have been thus brought, and, after having 
 been kept in a hut nine days, were committed to the 
 earth. 
 
 Whenever an enemy is wounded, the Abiponians cut 
 off his head with surprising dexterity ; and havhig 
 stripped off' the skin, it is stuffed and kept as a trophy. 
 The language of the Abiponians presents several in- 
 teresting peculiarities ; and the acquisition of it is at- 
 tended with extreme difficulty. It wants certain parts 
 of speech, which are deemed indispensable by civilized 
 nations in communicating their sentiments, while there 
 is an incredible number of synonymes. The perpetual 
 change which arises from abolishing whatever relates 
 to one deceased, is a great source of the difficulty in 
 acquiring the language. 
 
 The history of this nation, which, from frequent wars, 
 and other causes, has now been reduced to little more 
 than 5000 people, is written by Martin Dobrizhoffer, a 
 missionary, who acted in this capacity in Paraguay for 
 twenty-two years, seven of which he passed with the 
 Abiponians. He laments the hostility of the Americans 
 
 in Paraguay towards the missionaries, vvlio appear to 
 have made but little progress in converting them to 
 Christianity ; and enumerates above thirty individuals 
 who have suffered a violent death by the hands of these 
 savages. Sec Dobrizhoffer, HiHloria de Abiji'mibim^ 
 e(/uestri beUkosaijUc Paruf/uuria naiiont. V'iennas, 
 1784, 3 vol. in 8vo. See also Pinkerton's Ccoir. vol. 
 iii. p. 760. (c) 
 
 ABJURATION, Oath of, is that by which a per- 
 son binds himself not to acknowledge any royal authori- 
 ty in the Pretender. See \st William and Mury, \Zth 
 II'. III., \st Geo. I. This oath may be seen in ^ct 6t/i 
 Geo. III. caji. 53. (to) 
 
 ABK.AS, a nation in Asiatic Turkey, and one of the 
 seven nations between the Euxhie and the Caspian. 
 They are called by the Circassians, Kiis/i Haaiji, which 
 signifies, a people beyond the mountains. Their chief 
 establishments are on the southern declivity of the 
 mouiitains, between the Euxine and the river Cuban. 
 They are divided into two governments, the Eastern 
 and the Western, both of which are ruled by a bashaw. 
 Their language is peculiar to themselves, and their 
 religion has some traces of Christianity. The capital 
 of the nation is Anacopir, formerly Nicopsis. (to) 
 
 ABLACTATION, the act of weaning a child from 
 the breast. In the interior parts of Africa, the negro 
 women suckle their children till they are able to walk 
 by themselves, and hence the period of ablactation fre- 
 quently extends to three years. See Park's Travels., 
 5th edit. Bvo, p. 395. {nu) 
 
 ABLATIVE, one of tlie cases in the Latin language, 
 which always denotes concomitancy. Sec GR.tMMAR. 
 
 It has been much debated among grammarians, 
 whether or not the Greek language has an ablative 
 case. Frischlin, Sanctius, and the Porti'oyalists, main- 
 tained the affirmative, and Crusius and Perizonius the. 
 negative side of the question, (to) 
 
 ABLAY, a district in Great Tartary, lying on the 
 east side of the river Irtis, and stretching for 500 leagues 
 along the southern frontier of Siberia, between the 
 latitudes of 51° and 54° North, and the longitudes 72» 
 and 83° East. The inhabitants of Ablay, who are cal- 
 led Buchar.'i, are subject to Russia, though their chief 
 is a Calmuck. {iv) 
 
 ABLE, Thomas, a learned clergyman, who distin- 
 guished himself by his opposition to the tyranny of king 
 Henry VIII. He was the chaplain and instructer of 
 queen Catharine, and wrote a treatise in order to prove 
 the impropriety and injustice of dissolving her marriage 
 with that haughty monarch. He was prosecuted in 
 1534, for being concerned in the affair of the holy maid 
 of Kent, a pretended prophetess, who was afterwards 
 executed, together with several of her associates. Be- 
 ing one of those who denied the supremacy which Henry 
 arrogated over the church. Able was thro^v^ into prison, 
 and was hanged, drawn, and quartered, in Smithfield, 
 on the 30th July 1540. See Wood. Athenx Oxon. vol. 
 i. p. 57. (to) 
 
 ABLUENT Medicines, the same as abstergent, de- 
 tergent, or diluent medicines, are those which are em- 
 ployed to wash off" from any part of the body substances 
 whose adhesion to it is injurious, (to) 
 
 ABLUTION, a religious ceremony practised in 
 ancient times, and still in use among the Mahommedans 
 and Roman Catholics. It consists in washing either 
 the whole or part of the body before the offering up 
 of a sacrifice, or the performance of any religious
 
 ABO 
 
 ABO 
 
 25 
 
 duty, and i's considered as a purification of the %voi-- 
 shipper, necessary to the proper observance of any 
 sacred rite. See Guer Mceurs des J-'urcs, loin. i. lib. 
 2. {w) 
 
 ABO, the capital of Swedish Finland. It is situated 
 on a promontory formed by the Gult-s of Bothnia and 
 Finland, and is divided into two parts by the river 
 Aurajocki. It is the fourth tovvn in Sweden in point 
 of size, and the eighth votint; town in the diet. In 
 1626, Gustavus Adolphus establislied a gymnasium at 
 Abo, which was converted into an university by queen 
 Christina, in 1640, and endowed with all tlic privileges 
 of that of Upsal. The anatomical school enjoys the 
 extraordmary right of claiming for dissection the bodies 
 of all those who hold lands or pensions from the crown. 
 In 1713, Abo was taken by the Russians, who remained 
 masters of the place till 1720. They committed great 
 disorders during their stay, and carried oft' with them 
 die library. In 1741, the town was ceded to Russia, 
 but was restored in 1743 by the peace of Abo. It was 
 again taken by the Russians, along with the whole of 
 Finland, in 1808. 
 
 The harbour near Beckholmen, about three Eng- 
 lish miles from Abo, is both safe and commodious, and 
 the city carries on a considerable trade. In 1751, the 
 export trade to ports in the Baltic employed 19 ships, 
 14 of which belonged to Abo. They exported salt, 
 tiles, iron, and nails, copper, pitch, tar, pots, and deals, 
 to the amount of 3122 rix-doUars. To Geneva, Lisbon, 
 Bourdeaux, Amsterdam, &c. they exported iron, tar, 
 pitch, deals, joists, S<:c. to the annual amount of 7 187 
 rix-doUars. In the same year, 16 ships, of which nine 
 belonged to the town, arrived with cargoes at Abo, 
 and the value of imports amounted to 104,967 rix- 
 doUars. The articles imported were, tobacco, coffee, 
 wine, sugar, salt, rye, wheat, hemp, spiceries, drugs, &c. 
 At Abo, there are manufactures of silk, ribband, sail- 
 cloth, leather, watches, paper, and sugar ; and the plan- 
 tations of tobacco produce nearly 152,000 cwt. annually. 
 The revenue paid to the crown in 1761 from this city 
 ■was 4675 rix-dollars. Population in 1791,8504. Num- 
 ber of houses 1100. E. Long. 22° 15' 30". N. Lat. 60° 
 27' 10". See Acerbi's Travels, (iv) 
 
 ABOLA, the name of one of the divisions of the 
 Agow in Abyssinia, and of the river which runs through 
 it. It is a curious circumstance, that there are no fish 
 in the Abola, or in any of its tributary streams. Mr 
 Bruce accounts for this, by supposing, that the spawn 
 and fish are destroyed in winter by the rapidity of the 
 current, and in summer by the great heat which dries 
 up the streams. See Bruce's Travels, vol. iii. p. 581, 
 4to edit, (to) 
 
 ABOMASUS, the name of the fourth stomach of 
 animals that chew the cud, where the chyle is formed, 
 and from which the food immediately descends into the 
 intestines, (to) 
 
 ABORIGINES, a name which is now given to the 
 original inhabitants of any country. It was formerly 
 applied to those who inhabited ancient Latium. See 
 Livtj, i. c. 1. Stj-abo, i. Univ. Hist. vol. xi. p. 220. (iv) 
 
 ABORTION, is the expulsion of the fcetus, at a peri- 
 od of gestation so early, that it is impossible for it to 
 survive. The precise age at which a child may live in- 
 dependent of its uterine appendages, is not exactly de- 
 termined ; but all practitioners agree, that, before the 
 seventh month, there is little chance of preserving the 
 infant. Between the seventh mgnth, and the usual time 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 of parturition, the woman is not said to miscarry, but to 
 have a premature labour. 
 
 In every slate, whether savage or civilized, attempts 
 have, from various motives, been made to procure 
 abortion. These are dangerous in proportion to the 
 violence of the means employed, and the difficulty with 
 which the ovum separates from ihe uterus. It is a fact 
 which cannot be too generally known, that such medi- 
 cines as destroy the cbild, or cause a miscarriage, pro- 
 duce a very dangerous eftect on the system of ihe mo- 
 ther, and sometimes prove fatal to her life. That such 
 attempts are highly criminal, no one can doubt whw 
 considers the subject ; but, unfortunately, a prejudice 
 prevails with the ignorant, that until the period of 
 C|uickening, the child is not alive ; and that, conse- 
 quently, it is not reprehensible to remove it. There is, 
 however, no fact more clearly proved than this, that the 
 fcetus is alive, and gives decided marks of its vitality, 
 long before its motion can be felt by the mother. Our 
 laws, notwithstanding, seem to be framed on the vulgar 
 belief; for, in Scotland, it is declared to be a capital 
 crime to procure a miscarriage after the child is quick ; 
 but there is no statute against destroying it before that 
 period, and the attempt, at most, can only receive an 
 arbitrary punishment. By an act of the British par- 
 liament, passed so lately as the year 1803, this distinc- 
 tion is explicitly made ; for it is expressly said, that the 
 procuring of abortion, before the child be quick, shall 
 be punished with imprisonment or transportation ; but 
 if the child have quickened, the person shall be hang- 
 ed. There is the authority of Hale, for saying, that, in 
 England, this principle was at one time even pushed 
 farther^; for the plea of pregnancy did not stop the exe- 
 cution of a criminal, if she had not reached the period 
 of quickening. In Scotland, this barbarous rule never 
 obtahied ground ; for pregnancy, at any stage, has al- 
 ways been admitted as a bar to execution. In France, 
 the crime of procuring abortion was formerly capital; 
 but since the Revolution, the punishment is twenty 
 years' imprisonment. In every civilized country, it is 
 decreed, that, if a woman die, in consequence of taking 
 medicines to cause abortion, the person who admin- 
 istered them shall be held guilty of murder. 
 
 In some countries, abortion, so far f>-om being pro- 
 hibited, is encouraged. In the island of Formosa, we 
 arc- told that no woman is allowed to carry a child to 
 the full time, till she arrives at the age of thirty-five 
 years. The American Indians, likewise, permit at- 
 tempts to procure abortion ; and the Africans, m or- 
 der to conceal an illicit connexion, sometimes use an 
 infusion of a species of grass to destroy the foetus. In 
 Guiana, a different plant is used for the same purpose. 
 In the West Indies, the Negroes sometimes make 
 similar attempts ; though, from promiscuous inter- 
 course, and other causes, abortion frequently happens 
 without any effort on the part of the mother. 
 
 However criminal this practice may be, it is far less 
 so than the custom of some other countries, where the 
 child is allowed to come to the full time, but is suf- 
 focated whenever it is born. Such is the case in the 
 South Sea Islands. In China, new born children are 
 exposed on the streets, or thrown into the water, with- 
 out compunction. Other savages, still more barbarous, 
 inter the living child with the dead mother, when she 
 happens to die soon after delivery. For the considera- 
 tion of the causes, prevention, and treatment of abor- 
 tion, see the article Midwifery; and see also Dr 
 D
 
 26 
 
 AJ3R 
 
 ABR 
 
 Hamilton's Outlines of Midnvifcry. Chambon, Mala- 
 dies des Femmes. Vigarous, Maladies des /■'cmmes, iom. 
 ii. p. 302. Petit, Maladies, &c. torn. i. p. 245. Deu- 
 man's Jntrodueiian, chap. 15. Hoftinan, Ojura, torn, 
 iii. p. 176. iJaudelocque, L'Art, &c. part iv. c. vii. art. 
 3. Mauriccau's Traire, liv. i. cliap. 24. La Motte, liv. 
 ii. chap. 15. Roedcrer £lcintns,% 7'. Deicui-tje 
 Traite, § 520. Pen, Pratique, p. 87. Plenk, I'JcmfiHu, 
 p. 80. Levret, iv'^)V, &c. p. 423. Smcllie, b. i. c. 3. § 
 7. Leak's Diseases of Women, vol. i. p. 140. Piozo's 
 rrciVc, p. 1 90. St.a.h\, i?i Hallei's Uis/i. Med. t.i\. Vo- 
 dere, Traite de Medicine Legale, t. ii. p. 13. and Burn's 
 Observations on Abortion. (/) 
 
 ABOU-IIANNES, or Fatheh John, the name of a 
 bird found in Ethiopia, and supposed to be the Ibis, 
 which the Egyptians formerly held in high veneration, 
 but which no longer exists in that country. Mr Bruce 
 founds this opinion upon the resemblance between the 
 abouhannes, and the embalmed bodies ot the Ibis which 
 have been preserved by the superstition of the Egyp- 
 tians ; and likewise upon its similarity to the figures of 
 the ibis which appear among the hieroglyphics on the 
 ancient obelisks. According to Cuvier, who calls it 
 ^'umenius Ibis, it is the same as the Tantalus F.thiojncus 
 of Latham, and the Tantalus Pavoninus oi'Wz.'aK. See 
 Druce's Travels, 2d edit. vol. vii. p. 270 ; and Mr Til- 
 loch's PliUosophical Magazine, vol. viii. and vol. xxiii. p. 
 191. (w) 
 
 ABOUKIR, a town in Lower Egypt, situated be- 
 tween Rosetta and Alexandria, at the distance of four 
 leagues from tlie latter, and celebrated by the brilliant 
 victory gained by Admiral Nelson over the French fleet 
 in the bay of Aboukir, in 1 798 ; and by a battle in 1799, 
 between the French army and a body of Turks and 
 Arabs, who had landed in the bay, and made them- 
 selves master of the redoubt and the fort. Bonaparte 
 attacked them on the 26th of July, and, after a bloody 
 engagement, obtained possession of the peninsula. The 
 fort held out for the space of eight days, when it capi- 
 tulated, and exhibited nothing but a heap of ashes. 
 From some inconsiderable ruins, Aboukir appears to 
 have been the site of an ancient city ; and its situation 
 with respect to Alexandria warrants the supposition, 
 that it is Canopus, one of the most ancient cities in the 
 world. The town is built upon a rock ; and if we may 
 give credit to Pliny, was formerly a small island. 
 About two miles from Aboukir are the ruins of a town 
 upon the sea coast, and partly under water, supposed 
 to be the Ta/iosiris Parx'a of the ancients. The for- 
 tress of Aboukir, which is not strong, is governed by 
 a Torbashi, who collects a toll from those who cross 
 the ferry. E. Long. 30° 18'. N. Lat. 31° 39'. See 
 Savary's Letters on Egijfit, vol. i. p. 49. Plin. Mat. 
 Hist. lib. V. Strabo, lib. 17. and Bruce's Travels. See 
 Abercromby. (to) 
 
 ABRABANEL, Isaac, a celebrated and learned 
 rabbi, born at Lisbon in 1437. He was confessor to 
 Alphonso V. king of Portugal, and Ferdinand the 
 Catholic ; but having amassed great wealth, his over- 
 bearing and ambitious disposition displayed itself in 
 his oppression of the poor, and in his insatiable desire 
 of the most illustrious titles. His unrelenting hosti- 
 lity to the Christian faith, combined with the arrogance 
 of his temper, was one of the chief causes of the per- 
 secution in 1492, in which he and all the Jews were 
 driven out of the Spanish dominions. After his expul- 
 sion from Spain, he resided at Naples, Corfu, &c., and 
 
 died a. Venice in 1508. The reverses of foilune which 
 he experienced on accoimt of his religion, soured his dis- 
 position, and generated that implacable liatred against 
 liie Calliolics, which is displayed in all his writings. 
 His principal works arc a Commentary ou tiie Old 
 Testament ; a Treatise to prove the Noii-tternily of the 
 World ; an Explication of some of the Prophecies ; and 
 a Treatise on the Articles of Faith, Sec. &c. See A'ov. 
 Act. Lips. 1686, p. 530, and liihlioth. Rabbai. torn. iii. 
 p. 876. (to) 
 
 ABRAM, afterwards named Adraham, was the son 
 of Terah, an inhabitant of Ur, in Chaldca. His fallier 
 was an idolater, like the rest of his countiymen ; but 
 Abraham having renounced heathenism, they left Ur 
 together, and on their way to Canaan, resided at Ilaran, 
 in Mesopotamia. Terah having died at Haran, the 
 Lord commanded Abraham to go towards Palestine, at 
 that time inhabited by the Canaanites, promising tO' 
 make of him a great nation ; and to raise up to him an 
 ofi'spring, in whom all nations of the earth should be 
 blessed. Firmly believing the Divine promise, he took 
 with him his wife, and Lot, his brother's son, with all 
 his servants and cattle, and settled in Canaan, where 
 the promise made to him was renewed, confirmed, and 
 enlarged. The facts in this and the subsequent part 
 of his history are so well known, and narrated with 
 such interesting simplicity by Moses, that it is unne- 
 cessary to give even a general detail of them, (rf) 
 
 ABRAXAS, or Abrasaxas, a mystical word, sup- 
 posed by St Jerom and other writers to denote the 
 supreme God of the Basilidian heretics, though it is 
 the opinion of Irenseus that it was the first of their 365 
 heavens, or the prince of the angels that inhabited 
 them. According to Beausobre, it is derived from 
 aofo5 and trau, which may be made to signify magnifi- 
 cent Saviour. See Montfaucon\ Palxograjihia Graca, 
 lib. ii. cap. 8. 
 
 The term Abraxas is also the name of small statues 
 of plates of metal or stones, on which are engraven fi- 
 gures of the Egyptian deities, combined with Zoroas- 
 tric and Jewish symbols, and a strange mixture of He- 
 brew, PhcEnician, Greek, Coptic, and Latin characters. 
 In the Palaeographia Graeca of Montfaucon, may be 
 seen engravings of a great number of these gems, 
 which he has arranged into different classes. Their 
 origin and use have been much disputed among anti- 
 quarians. Montfaucon is of opinion, along with St 
 Jcrojn, that Abraxas was the god of the Basilidians ; 
 and that the gems of that name were amulets worn by 
 these and other heretics in the early ages of the church. 
 Beausobre and Lardner, however, have examined care- 
 fully the various specimens given by Montfaucon, and 
 have shown pretty clearly, that they are of heathen 
 origin ; that Abraxas was not the god of the Basili- 
 dians ; that this term signifies nothing but the sun, 
 which was never worshipped by these heretics ; that 
 the figures are for the most part Egyptian; that there 
 is no evidence of their having belonged to the Basili- 
 dians ; that those which have the words lao, Sabaoth, 
 kc. upon them, were the works of magicians who 
 never professed the Christian faith ; and that some of 
 these figures derived their origin from the Sinonians 
 and Ophites, who did not even profess Christianity. 
 Treatises on the abraxas have been published by Mo- 
 carius and J. Chiflet, to whom Montfaucon has been 
 indebted for many of his figures. Several of these 
 gems are in the National Library at Paris, Beauso-
 
 ABR 
 
 ABR 
 
 27 
 
 hrc's History of the Manichcans, vol. ii. p. 55 ; and 
 Lardncr's iVork.i, vol. ix. p. 190. (iv) 
 
 ABRIDGMENT, in literature, tihe reduction of a 
 ^vork into less tlian its original compass; which i.s an 
 an of infuiitely greater utility than we are geneially 
 disposed to admit. It ^\ as in the fiflh century that the 
 practice of aljridging came into general use. When 
 the taste for literature began to decline, the number 
 of original compositions was greatly diminished, and a 
 swarm of abridgers su]iplied their place, and gratihed 
 the indolence of the public by abridgments of the pon- 
 derous and almost forgotten volumes of antiquity. Some 
 of these abridgers employejl, with a few changes, the 
 expressions of the authors themselves; others selected 
 their facts from various sources, and clothed them in 
 their own lant^iiage; while a third class collected the 
 most valuable passages from authors who wrote upon 
 the same subject; and by their union formed an inte- 
 resting work, and thus rescued from oblivion some of 
 the most valuable fragments of antiquity. In this way 
 several huge works were greatly improved by abridg- 
 ment ; among which we may mention the voluminous 
 history of Trogus Pompcius, of which Justin has fur- 
 nished such an excellent epitome. At no period, per- 
 haps, has the necessity of abridging been more conspi- 
 cuous, or ought to be more earnestly inforced, than at 
 the present. In this age, it would appear, as if each 
 author thought his subject inexhaustible ; and, not con- 
 tent ■vAjth disquisitions on points truly important to 
 science, he forces into notice those which never merit- 
 ed consideration, as if it were possible to convert dross 
 into gold. We regret that several such attempts have 
 been too successful ; and we have to lament the depra- 
 vity of public taste, which must always result from 
 such pernicious examples. 
 
 We lay it down as indisputable, that the better an 
 author understands his subject, he will reduce it into 
 the smaller compass; because each head having re- 
 ceived the discussion peculiar to itself, becomes a co- 
 rollary. There cannot, therefore, be a more estimalile 
 property, than that of expressing much matter in few 
 words; and when an author fails in this, we can ascribe 
 it only to ignorance of his subject, or the want of skill 
 in composition. At the same time it is true, that many, 
 unacquainted with logical deductions, wander into pro- 
 lixity, from inattention to the strong positions in which 
 an argument may be placed. 
 
 The ponderous volumes daily ushered into the world, 
 attended by every mark of pedantry, do little credit to 
 literature. It is no uncommon occurrence to find 
 scarcely one-fourth of them occupied by the subject 
 announced, while the rest is filled by the author with 
 a commentary on himself, in his preface, introduction, 
 and appendixes ; or in that most convenient, and least 
 suspected of all receptacles, — innumerable notes. 
 
 Those who employ themselves in the abridgment of 
 books, are often engaged in a useful occupation : for 
 they have not only the choice of the work, but the se- 
 lection of the matter. It is not easy to point out the 
 specific line which they should follow; for this must, 
 in general, be regulated by the work itself. But the 
 principal points to be considered are, first, the precise 
 object of the work ; and, secondly, what parts of it most 
 forcibly tend to support the views of its author. When 
 an abridger has made himself fully master of these, he 
 may retrench superfluities which have escaped the au- 
 thor's notice ; and may be able to present the work in 
 
 a more satisfactory form than was originally done by 
 the author himself. 
 
 The following hints to abridgers are given by the 
 elegant author of the Book of Maccabees, in a preface 
 to that history : " All these things, I say, being declared 
 by Jason of Cyrene, in ^vc bouk-H, wo shall essay to 
 abridg-f in one volume. We shall be careful that they 
 wlio read may have dttight; that the y who are desirous 
 to connuit to memory may liave ease; and that all hito 
 whose hands it comes may have profit." " To st and 
 upon e-vei-y point, to go over things at large, and to be 
 curious in jiarticulars, belongs to the first author of the 
 story ; but to use brevity, and avoid much labourmg in 
 the work, is to be granted to him who will make au 
 abridgment." See"77;f A/ethod of tnaking Jbridgments, 
 by the Abbe Gualtier, in 2 vols. 4to; Baillet Trigemenr 
 des S^avans, lorn. i. p. 240; and D'Israeli's Curiusitief 
 of Literature, 5th edit. vol. ii. p. 1G5. (c) 
 
 ABRIZAN, the name of a festival observed by the 
 ancient Persians on the 13th day of the month Tir. li 
 has been partly adopted by the Mahommedans,and, hap- 
 pening near the time ot the autumnal equinoxes, it ap- 
 pears to have been preparatory to the rainy seasons. 
 See Harmer's Observations, v. iii. p. 10. (iu) 
 
 ABROMA, a genus of plants of the class Polyadcl- 
 phia, and order Pcntandria. 
 
 The Abroma Augusta is a native of various parts of 
 India, New South Wales, the Philippine Isles, &c. It 
 has been found by Dr Roxburgh to be particularly ex- 
 cellent for making cordage, &c. and has thence been 
 called Indian flax. The fibres employed for this pur- 
 pose are abundantly interwoven with its bark, and 
 remarkable for their beauty, fineness, and strength. 
 They are separated from the parenchymatous sub- 
 stance, by maceration in water, from four to eight days, 
 £cc. See Alcmoirs of the Society of Arts for 1804, 
 which contains Dr Roxburgh's paper on this subject. 
 See Botany, (w) 
 
 ABRUS, a genus of plants of tlve class Diadelphia, 
 and order Decandria. See Botany, (to) 
 
 ABRU2ZO, a province of Naples, which derives its 
 name from the city of Geramo, anciently called Abruz- 
 zo. It was the Samnium of the ancients, the country of 
 the Samnites, who were distinguished by their valour, 
 their civilization, and Uie wars which they waged with 
 the Romans during seventy years. Abruzzo is divided 
 by the river Pescara into two parts, called Ulterior and 
 Citerior Abruzzo, of which Aquila and Chieti {Theate') 
 are the capitals. This province is naturally fertile and 
 productive, and affords its inhabitants more than a suf- 
 ficient supply of corn, rice, fruit, oil, and wine, besides 
 saffron and hemp; but from the want of convenient 
 harbours and good roads, there is no encouragement 
 to exportation. The country is therefore in general 
 desolate, and the peasantry poor and uncomfortable. 
 The climate is cold, though salubrious ; the country 
 being traversed by the Apennines, which are always 
 covered with snow. Among the stupendous mou.ntains 
 which continually arrest the eye of the traveller, Mon- 
 te-Corno and Majella are the most interesting. The 
 former presents a rugged and broken front, and is al- 
 most inaccessible, while the declivities of Majella are 
 clothed with rich fields, and an immense variety of 
 plants. These mountains are infested with wolves and 
 bears, which commit great depredations in the winter. 
 The deer and the tiger-cat, or lynx, are. also found in 
 the woods. In the province of Abruzzo is the cele- 
 D2
 
 28 
 
 AB8 
 
 ABS 
 
 bratcd emissary of the emperor Claudius, for draining 
 the beautiful and romantic lake of Celano, anciently 
 called Fucinus. This emissary is a covered under- 
 ground canal, three miles long. A great part of it is 
 cut out of the solid rock, and the remaining part is 
 supported by masonry, with large openhigs to admit the 
 light and the air. According to Suetonius, 30,000 
 men were employed for eleven years in this stupendous 
 work, which was intended to convey the superfluous 
 waters of the lake Celano into the bed of the river Ga- 
 rigliano. The emissary being now hlled up with rub- 
 bish, the waters of this lake, which is above thirty 
 miles iu circumference, are making rapid encroach- 
 ments on the rich and cultivated plains which sur- 
 round it; and unless the canal is cleared and repaired, 
 the lake will soon inundate the nuhierous villages 
 which smile upon its banks. See Phil. Trans. 1786, 
 p. 368 ; and Swinburne's Travels, v. iv. p. 378. {iu) 
 
 ABSALOM, the son of David. His sister Tamar 
 having been ravished by Anuion, her elder brother, 
 Absalom took her under his protection ; and, having 
 waited two vears for an opportunity of revenging this 
 injury, procured the assassuiation of Amnor:, at a feast, 
 to which he had invited the whole royal family. On 
 this, he fled to his grandfather, and continued with him 
 in Geshur three years ; after which, he was restored to 
 David's favour. But, looking on himself as presump- 
 tive heir to the crown, he soon fonned tlie design of 
 dethroning his father, and succeeded in gaining the 
 affections of many of the people. Through the influ- 
 ence of Hushai, David's friend, who counteracted ihe 
 counsels of Ahitophel, Absalom's adviser, he delayed 
 attacking the king's army, till they were prepared to 
 receive him. In consequence of this, his forces were 
 defeated with great slaughter, and he himself, having 
 fled into the wood of Ephraim, was caught by the hair 
 when passing under a large oak. Here he was found 
 hanging by Joab, who thrust him through with tiiree 
 darts, though David had ordered his life to be spared. 
 See Univ. Hist. v. iv. p. 73 — 79. (rf) 
 
 ABSCESS, in Surgeiy, is a cavity containing puru- 
 lent matter. See Hist, de I'Acad. par. 1701, p. 29; 
 1731, p. 515. Hunter's 71/<"(//f«/ Obsen^ations and In- 
 quiries, vol. ii. p. 57. Phil. Trans, vol. xii. p. 1035. 
 Bell On Ulcers, ed. 3. p. 54, 93. Kirkland's Medical 
 Surge7-y,\o\.n. p. 49, 62, 133, 142, 160, 175, 183, 185, 
 253. jisiatic Researches, vol. vii. J. Hunter's j\'at. 
 Hist, of the Teeth, Part H. Bell's Surgery, iv. 76, 203, 
 209; V. 396. Pearson's Sxirgerij, vol. i. See also Sur- 
 gery, (tu) 
 
 ABSCISS, or Abscissa, from abscindo, to cut off, 
 the part of the diameter of a curve, between its origin 
 and an ordinate. See Curve, Ordinate, and Conic 
 Sections, (w) 
 
 ABSCISSION, in Surgery, is used to express the 
 cutting away any unsound and soft part of the body ; 
 while amputation is the cutting away of bones, {iv) 
 
 ABSENCE OF Mind, a want of attention to external 
 objects that are present, while the mind is engaged 
 with its own reflections. It depends on the power of 
 association, confirmed by habits of abstruse and solitary 
 thinking. It is, of course, the failing of literary men ; 
 of tliose who are accustomed to silent reasoning, and 
 \o view their opinions in all their consequences and 
 aspects. A long train of thought passes through the 
 mind, and the attention is engaged so completely, that 
 objects witliout, which tuake an impression on tlie 
 
 senses, arc either not perceived, or hare not sufficient 
 power to Ijreak the line of associated ideas; or, per- 
 haps, have no such relation to any of them as to restoi-e 
 the perceptive faculty to its exercise. A clock may 
 strike, or a friend may litter something wliich ought to 
 interest us, and both may be unheard or neglected. 
 " A man is mentioned, in Darwin's Zoonomia, who, 
 during the paroxysm of a reverie, was reciting some 
 lines from Pope, one of which he had forgotten. It was 
 several times inefi'ectually shouted in liis ears, till at 
 length, after much labour, he recollected it by his own 
 eflbrts." See Mr Grant's paper on Jievcrie, in the 
 Manchester Memoirs. 
 
 The absence of mind, which we are speaking of, is 
 the failing of those likewise whose imaginations are 
 active, and whose memories are good; who indulge ui 
 scenes of fancied happiness, and fly from the miseries 
 around them to those ideal joys, from which all sorrow 
 is excluded. They contemplate, in their reveries, only 
 the fair side of objects. Every adventure in which 
 they engage is successful ; every incident that occurs, 
 is improved to their benefit; every sound is harmo- 
 nious, and every colour is pleasing to the eye. This 
 exercise of the imagination differs from a dream; be- 
 cause the individual is really awake, and exerts such x 
 power over his thoughts, as to banish all evil from the 
 happiness which he enjoys, and to satiate himself with 
 unmingled pleasure. The exertion of this power must 
 be considered as voluntary, at least in its first or ear- 
 liest endeavours, though the ideas appear to follow 
 each other in the mind, without any control or direc- 
 tion from the will. 
 
 A want of attention to external objects, that are pre- 
 sent, is often the effect of a strong impression, made 
 upon the mind. This impression, and the incidents 
 and appearances which gave rise to it, overpower the 
 faculty of perception, withdraw it from the organs of 
 sense, and, engrossmg the whole of the thinking prin- 
 ciple, render us incapable, for a while, of turning the 
 mental eye to any thing without. Thus, an execution; 
 a contest between two powerful ai-mies ; a madhouse, 
 with its wretched inhabitants ; — one or any of these ob- 
 jects may force itself so strongly upon the attention, 
 that the idea of it will continue in the memory, even 
 against our wishes, and produce a train of reflections, 
 which will absti"act us entirely from the occurrences 
 around us. These sticceed one another without our no- 
 tice or concern. We have heard of a man, who had 
 witnessed the execution of a person, with whom he was 
 connected in business : and such was the impression 
 that the last struggles of the criminal made upon him, 
 that, for a whole week, he neither spoke nor acted as 
 he had done before. He appeared to be absorbed in 
 tliought, and at night his dreams were characterized 
 by the objects which had taken possession of his mind. 
 
 Where absence of mind rises to such a height as to 
 constitute a disease, it is for the most part connected 
 with some disorder of the body ; and is to be cured by 
 exercise and change of place, by a relaxation from ha- 
 bits of abstract thinking, and by the various remedies 
 for counteracting any undue irritability or depression 
 of the nervous system. (A) 
 
 ABSOLUTE Number, in algebra, is the known 
 quantity, or number, which forms one of the terms of 
 an equation. Thus, in the equation x" — 5j:-=8, the 
 absolute number is 8. {iv) 
 
 ABSOLUTION, in tjje canon law, is that act by
 
 ABS 
 
 ABS 
 
 29 
 
 xvhich a Roman Catholic pi-icst forgives the sins of those, 
 who, by confession and repentance, seein to deserve it. 
 The iorni of absolution, employed by Tctzei, whose 
 sale of indulgences and absolutions paved the way for 
 llie Reformation, may be seen in Robertson's Histunj 
 »f CharUis K. vol. ii. p. 117. (w) 
 
 ABSORBENTS, or Absoubing Vessels, are mi- 
 nute and transparent vessels, found in all animals, which 
 absorb, or imbibe, any liuid with which they come in 
 contact, and carry them into the circulatmg blood. 
 They are divided into Lactcals and Lym/i/iatics, accord- 
 ing to the liquids which they convey; the former con- 
 veying from the intestines a milky liquid, called the 
 chjle, and the latter conveying lymph, a thin pellucid 
 liquor, from all the interstices of the body. The lac- 
 teal vessels were discovered by Erasistratus, of the 
 Alexandrian school ; and the lymphatics, by Rudbec, a 
 Swede, and Bartholinc, a Dutch anatomist, in 1651. 
 The opinions of the English anatomists on the absorb- 
 ent vessels, have been recently controverted by M. Wal- 
 ter, a German Physician, in a curious paper in the 
 Me?)!, de I'ylcad. Btrtin, 1786, 1787. He maintains, 
 that the lymphatics are properly the absorbing vessels, 
 and that, in all parts where. there is a cellular substance, 
 they partake with the veins in the office ol absorption; 
 that they absorb the chyle in conjunction with the Vena 
 Portarum ; that tliey alone absorb the milk in the breasts 
 of women ; and that the veins, on the other hand, p-sr- 
 form the office of absorption m all the cavities of the 
 body, and over all its surface. See Hunter's Medical 
 Commentaries. Kennedy's £ssay on External Reme- 
 dies, i3'c. Baillie's Morbid Anatomy. Soemmering de 
 Morb.\<aa. Absorb. Cor/i. Hum. 1795. Mascagni rfc Kf- 
 7iis Lympliaticis ; and Cruickshank's Anatomy of the Ab- 
 sorbent Vessels. See also Anatomy, (w) 
 
 ABSORBENT Medicines, sometimes called ./i/z^a- 
 cids, Antalkalines, and Antacrids, are those substances 
 which, when taken inwardly, or applied externally, 
 have the property of absorbing redundant and acrid 
 humours. In cases of erysipelas, for example, the ap- 
 plication of dry flour to the skin, absorbs the acrid mat- 
 ter, which propagates the inflammation by flowing un- 
 der the cuticle. See P/iil. Trans, vol. xli. p. 557. Edinb. 
 Med. Essays, vol. v. art. 24. Langii Ojicra Medica, p. 
 452. Mem. Acad. Par. 1700. See also Materia Me- 
 dica. (w) 
 
 ABSORPTION, is that function which is exercised 
 by the absorbent vessels. This power has been ascri- 
 bed by some physiologists to the capillary attraction of 
 the vessels, and others refer it to tiie pressure of the 
 atmosphere on the surface of the body, which propels 
 the matter subject to absorption into the mouths of the 
 vessels. Dr Hunter attributes to the mouths of the 
 vessels powers similar to thos.- exerted b)' a caterpil- 
 lar when feeding on a leaf; and Dr FuUarton supposes 
 a power of suction in the surface of the absorbents. 
 See Duncan's Med. Comment, v. x. p. 354. See also 
 Absorbents, and Physiology, (w) 
 
 ABSORPTION, in Chemistry, is the property,^ hich 
 most bodies possess, of drawing into their substance 
 and assimilating otliers of a different constitution. 
 Thus stones, wood, and animal fibre, are variously dis- 
 posed to imbibe and retain moisture; and thus water 
 has the faculty to incorporate with itself air and other 
 elastic fluids. It is in this way, that gases become uni- 
 ted to liquids, and that both gases and liq\iids are swal- 
 lowed up and lost in the interior composition of solids. 
 
 In all such cases, a real chemical force is exerted, en- 
 tirely distinct from the power employed in producing 
 mere capillary ascent. Absorption is constantly at- 
 tended by change ol temperature and alteration of vo- 
 lume, the circumstances which unequivocally mark a 
 new combination. When a spunge draws up water 
 into its tubulated structure, it acts only by the ap- 
 proximation of its numerous internal surfaces. The 
 result is a mechanical compound, and both the spunge 
 and the water, quite independent of each other, pre- 
 serve their peculiar character. If a solid body be re- 
 duced to minute contiguous fragments, it will like- 
 wise admit the penetration of a liquid, which insinu- 
 ates itself along the winding interstices. In this way, 
 sand is capable of being wetted. But, when paper is 
 soaked in water, a very different process obtains; the 
 particles of the fluid, attracted into the substance of the 
 paper, occasion a general distention, with a sensible 
 extrication of heat ; the paper, in consequence, be- 
 comes denser, and partakes in some degree of the soft- 
 ness and transparency of the water, to which it is now 
 so intimately united. The water must therefore, in its 
 combination with paper, exist in a concentrated state. 
 The same thing takes place in the union of the gases 
 with liquid or solid substanqes. That portion of air, for 
 instance, which is lodged in charcoal, appears to be 
 highly condensed : it is only disengaged from its basis 
 by the application of water, to which the charcoal shows 
 a superior afiinity. The singular properties of the hy- 
 drophanous opal are owing to a similar cause. 
 
 To consider solution as essential to chemical union, 
 is, therefore, to overlook the economy of nature. The 
 combination of bodies take a much wider range. When 
 a liquid joins with a gaseous substance, or solid matter 
 unites to liquid, the opposite ingredients may enter into 
 the composition in every possible proportion. The re- 
 ciprocal action of copper and mercury will serve as an 
 example : the copper first absorbs the globules of mer- 
 cury into its mass; and, retaining its solidity, it only 
 becomes brighter and more brittle. By degrees, it 
 softens, and passes into the state of an amalgam. And 
 as the proportion of the mercury farther increases, the 
 resulting compound begins to assume the character of 
 a liquid, and continually approaches to the fluidity of 
 mercury itself. In this instance, we trace a continuous 
 chain of character, extending from the one ingredient 
 to the other. It often happens, however, that the inter- 
 mediate links are less apparent. But, in every case, 
 the extreme limits of combination, on either side, de- 
 serve to fix attention ; and we may state it as a general 
 principle, that, whenever a solid has a cjose attraction 
 to a fluid substance, two opposite products will residt 
 from their union, the one preserving the form and con- 
 sistence of the solid, and the other again retaining live 
 more obvious qualities of the fluid. In the one case, 
 the character of solidity predominates ; in the other, 
 that of fluidity maintains the ascendency. If a given 
 stone be shown to absorb moisture, we may safely draw 
 the inverse conclusion, that water, in its turn, is capable 
 of dissolving the stony matter. The attraction of the 
 water may yet be too feeble to overcome the mutual co- 
 hesion of the particles of the stone ; but when the dis- 
 integration is effected by other means, the assimilating 
 powers of the fluid will act with full effect. Such a 
 process has the most extensive operation, and its diffuse 
 energy may very often elude the ordinaiy and imperfect 
 modes of chemical analysis. This view of the subject
 
 30 
 
 ABSORPTION. 
 
 is evidently favoui-ablc to the Neptunian, or aqueous, 
 hypolhesib of the formation of rocks. 
 
 We are not ignorant of tlic recent attempts to revive 
 certain mechanical theories, concerning the mutual re- 
 lation of fluids. Water, it is alleged, imbibes always 
 its own bulk of every kind of gas ; and, when converted 
 into vapour, it spreads through the air, or other gase- 
 ous mass, passively, filling up the vacuities, and oc- 
 cupying exactly the same space, which it would have 
 done, if the medium of its expansion had been entirely 
 removed. But these assertions will be found to be 
 grounded on vague experiments, and supported only by 
 very crude and unphilosophical reasonings. We de- 
 cline entering on the consideration of the question at 
 present, but propose to give it a thorough discussion in 
 some future article. 
 
 About the year 1746, M. Dalibard, (Mem. dcs Sca- 
 va?is Etrangcrs, i. p. 212, et seil-J at the request of the 
 comte de Buffon, made some curious observations on 
 the variable weight of a piece of wood, which was kept 
 plunged under water. It was discovered, when taken 
 out, and its surface wiped, to be some« hat heavier or 
 lighter, according to the state of the atmosphere, es- 
 pecially in regard to temperature. Similarresults were 
 obtained from horn ; marble and other granular stones. 
 All those substances, being kept immersed in water, 
 were found to gain uniformly more weight in winter 
 than during the months of summer; and, in general, 
 to absorb the fluid more copiously in cold than in hot 
 weather. But when the cold became intense, a singu- 
 lar anomaly took place. The dilatation, which always 
 accompanies the act of freezing, communicates a mu- 
 tual repulsive force to the particles of water, that 
 seems, in a certain degree, to overcome the opposite 
 attraction of the hygroscopic substances. A piece of 
 wood suffered a sudden and very material diminution 
 of weight, when the surrounding liquid was converted 
 into solid ice. A mass of copper, penetrated by sub- 
 mersion in mercury, is liable also to very sensible varia- 
 tion of weight, according to the temperature in which 
 it is exposed — being always heavier when cold, and 
 lighter when subjected to heat. These remarkable facts 
 throw new light on the nature and modifications of che- 
 mical affinity. But the subject would require a nicer 
 and more elaborate investigation. 
 
 On the faculty of the different earths to abstract 
 moisture from the air, professor Leslie has given us a 
 very interesting sketch in Nicholson's Journal for the 
 year 1800. By help of that delicate instrument — his 
 hygrometer — he found, that earthy substances, after 
 being intensely dried, showed a remarkable disposition 
 to attract moisture again, and to desiccate the air in 
 which they are included ; not inferior, indeed, to that 
 possessed by sulphuric acid and the most deliquescent 
 salts. The several primitive earths exhibit that ab- 
 sorbent power in very different degrees ; silica having 
 the smallest energy, and alumina the greatest. The 
 effects are much augmented, in a higher temperature. 
 Of the compound bodies, basalt has, in every state, the 
 strongest attraction for humidity. This fact perfectly 
 agrees with the known property, that basalt, or whin- 
 stone, by its decomposition, forms the most fertile soil ; 
 for garden, or vegetable, mould showed the most ener- 
 getic absorption. Hence, perhaps, a method is furnish- 
 ed, nmch easier, and more satisfactory, than any che- 
 mical analysis, for ascertaining the relative values of 
 differeitt soils. Wc trust, that a subject so novel will 
 
 not be suffered to rest, but will be pursued with that 
 ardour which its importance demands. We shall have 
 occasion, in the subsequent parts of our work, to treat 
 of chemical absorption with more detail. See Attuac- 
 ■rio.s' Chimicat; C-KvihhxHY miction ; Eauths Jbaorb- 
 ent i Hyckoscomc 6'K6«/a7/fc« ; and Soils, (y) 
 
 ABSORPTION of the Eautii, is the sinking in 
 of land, either in consequence of an opening of the earth 
 or some subterraneous convulsions. 
 
 In the time of Pliny, the town Curites, and the moun- 
 tain Cybotus, on which it stood, were so completely 
 absorbed, that scarcely a trace of them was left behind. 
 The city of Tantalus, in Magnesia, and the mountain 
 Sypilus, suffered the same calamity from a sudden open- 
 ing of the earth. A siniilar fate befel the towns ot 
 Cialanis and Gamalis, in Phoenicia ; and the huge pro- 
 montory of Phegium, in Ethiopia, disappeared after a 
 violent earthcjuake. The lofty mountain Picus, in the 
 Molucca Isles, was instantaneously absorbed, in con- 
 sequence of an earthquake ; and an unmense lake of 
 water appeared on the place which it occupied. Sec 
 Plin. Hist. J^i'ut. tom. i. 
 
 A similar accident happened in China, in 1556, when 
 a whole province was swallowed up, along with its in- 
 habitants, and left in its place an extensive sheet of 
 water. We are also told, that several mountains of the 
 Andes have disappeared from a similar cause. 
 
 In 1702, Borge, a seat in Norway, sunk into the 
 ground, and became a lake 100 fathoms deep; and in 
 Finland, in 1793, a piece of ground of 4000 square 
 yards, sunk to the depth of 15 fathoms. 
 
 On the 23d of June, 1727, one of the Cevennes, a 
 chain of mountains in the south of France, was under- 
 mined by absorption, and the whole mountain, with its 
 huge basaltic columns, rolled, with a dreadful crash, 
 into the valley below. An immense block of stone, 90 
 feet long and 26 in diameter, sunk in a vertical position ; 
 and so great was the shock, that it was felt, and con- 
 sidered as an earthquake, at the distance of three miles. 
 The village Pradines, which was situated on the de- 
 clivity of the mountain, was overwhelmed by the tor- 
 rent of luige fragments of rocks ; but its uihabitants 
 were fortunately celebrating midsummer eve, around 
 a bonfire at some distance. 
 
 These instances of absorption, however are less in- 
 teresting than that dreadful calamity, which happened 
 at Schweitz, a canton in Switzerland, on the 3d Sep- 
 tember, 1806, and which appears to have been owing 
 to an absorption of the earth. Between the- lakes of 
 Zug and Loweitz, and the mountains of Rosenberg and 
 Rossi, lay a delightful and luxuriant valley decorated 
 with a number of beautiful villages. At five o'clock 
 in the evening of the 3d September, the Spitzberg, or 
 north-east projection of the mountain Rosenberg, pre- 
 cipitated itself into the valley, from the height of 2000 
 feet, and buried in its ruins the villages of Goldau, 
 Busingen, and Rathlen, with a part of Lowertz and 
 Oberart. The torrent of earth and stones, which com- 
 posed the mountain, rushed like lava into the valley, 
 and overwhelmed more than three square miles of the 
 richest fields. A portion of tliis mass, mingled with 
 the trees and cottages, which it had torn from their 
 base, plunged into the lake of Lowertz, and filled up 
 nearly a fifth part of its bed. The immense swell, 
 which was thus occasioned, rolling in awful dignity along 
 the lake, completelv submerged two inhabited islands, 
 and the whole village of Seven, which stood upon its
 
 ABS 
 
 ABS 
 
 31 
 
 noi'lliem extremity. In this dreadful accident, between 
 1500 and 2000 of the unfortunate inhabitants were 
 buried aiive. 
 
 Mr Biickminster, who has given a detailed account 
 of this curious phenomenon, imaghies, that the calca- 
 reous earth was loosened by moisture, at the place 
 where the projeciiiig mass was connected with the 
 mountains ; while others are of opinion, that it was 
 pushed from its base by the swelling of the fountains of 
 Rosenberg. There is, however, no evidence in favour 
 of any of these explanations, and it seems rather proba- 
 ble, tliat the equilibrium of the impending mass was 
 destroyed by the absorption, or sinking in of the 
 earth, by which its base was upheld. - See the PA//. 
 Maff. vol. xxvii. p. 209. For an account) of similar 
 phenomena, see P/iil. Trans. 1713, vol. xxviii. p. 267. 
 Id. 1716, vol. xxix. p. 469. Id. 1718, vol. xxx. p. 766, 
 Id. 1728, vol. XXXV. p. 551. Id. 1739, vol. xli. p. 272. 
 Id. 1745, vol. xliii. p. 52. Id. 1755, p. 547. Id. 1786, p. 
 220 ; and Zach. Hfihcm. i. 545. Voyage dans tes De- 
 part. Cantal. p. 24. Piivkerton's Geog. vol. i. p. 299. (w) 
 
 ABSTERGENT IVIedicines, are those which not 
 only by their fluidity wash off any substances that ad- 
 here to the body, but which have the power of dimin- 
 ishing the cohesion of such substances, (tu) 
 
 ABSTINENCE, the avoiding or refraining from 
 anything, to which there is either a natural or habitual 
 propensity. In various systems of religion, abstinence 
 has been enjoined, not only fronn all tood for certain 
 limited periods, but also, durmg a particular season, 
 from certain kinds of food. During one of the Mahom- 
 medan feasts, total abstinence from food is observed be- 
 tween sun-rise and sun-set. The Jews, as is well known, 
 abstain entirely from swine's flesh ; and the Roman 
 Catholics, on spme days of the week, independent of 
 their greater fasts, eat no flesh. 
 
 The effects of abstinence, and the surprising powers 
 of animated nature to sustain the absolute privation of 
 what seems mdispensable to preserve life, are subjects 
 of extreme interest. Wonderful effects, in the cure of 
 disease, are said to have resulted from a spare and 
 meagre diet : One of these is recorded in the history 
 of Cornaro, a noble Venetian, who, after a life of luxury, 
 was, at the age of forty, attacked by a disease attended 
 with mortal symptoms; yet he not only recovered, but 
 lived nearly one hundred years, from the mere effects 
 of abstemiousness. We are told of several individuals 
 that have reached a centuiy, a centuiy and a half, nay, 
 have even approached to the age of two centuries, sup- 
 ported on an extremely slender diet, \i hich was thought 
 to contribute materially to the preservation of their 
 health. But though physicians have ascribed many 
 singular cures to this cause alone, it is not to be denied, 
 that extraordinary abstinence will also be productive of 
 disease. 
 
 There is a wide difference bet\veen the faculty of 
 subsisting on a given portion of food, however small, 
 and that of supporting existence under the total priva- 
 tion of sustenance. Neither is it to be overlooked, in 
 considering this subject, that, in certain situations, the 
 animal functions are feebly maintained. Numerous 
 animals are destined to pass a large portion of their 
 existence in a state of absolute insensibility. On the 
 simple approach of cold, without any other known 
 cause, they become languid and inactive ; their mem- 
 bers stiffen ; and they fall into a profound torpidity, 
 from which they are only to be roused by augmenting 
 
 the surrounding temperature. But not to recur to such 
 instances, where the animal functions are unquestiona- 
 bly impaired, we have witnessed many cases of beasts, 
 birds, fishes, and insects, living incredibly long in a 
 condition of total abstinence ; and even some human 
 beings, who of all animals can least support the want 
 of sustenance, have survived in a similar situation. Of 
 this, a melancholy example lately occurred, when four- 
 teen men and women, of a vessel wrecked on the coast 
 of Arracan, lived twenty-three complete days without a 
 morsel of food ; and it was not uuiil the fifth day after 
 the shipwreck, that two of their companions first died of 
 want. 
 
 JVlore than a century ago, it was observed by the 
 Italian naturalist Redi, that animals do not perish from 
 hunger so soon as is commonly believed. A civet-cat 
 lived ten days with him ; wild pigeons, twelve and 
 thirteen ; an antelope, twenty ; and a very large wild 
 cat, the same time, without food. A royal eagle survived 
 twenty-eight days ; and Buffon mentions one that lived 
 five weeks without food ; a badger lived a month ; and 
 several dogs thirty-six days. We have accounts still 
 more surprising;, from naturalists of undoubted credit. 
 A crocodile will live two months without nourishment. 
 Leeuwenhoek had a scorpion that lived three months. 
 Redi kept a camcleon eight months, and vipers ten 
 months, in a state of perfect abstinence. Vaillant had 
 a spider that lived ten months ; nay, its strength was 
 then sufficient to kill another of its own species, as 
 large as itself, and it was quite vigorous, when put 
 under the receiver where it was kept. According to 
 several authors, some of those animals that have long 
 supported the privation of food, did not become nearly 
 so much emaciated, as might reasonably be supposed. 
 Mr John Hunter enclosed a toad between two stone 
 flower-pots ; and, at the end of fourteen months, it was 
 as lively as ever. M. Sue quotes mstances of the same 
 animals living eighteen months, without either nutri- 
 ment or respiration, from being sealed up in boxes. M. 
 Ilerissant covered a box, containing three toads, with a 
 coating of plaster, and on opening it eighteen months 
 afterwards, one was still alive. Land tortoises lived 
 eighteen months with Redi ; and Baker kept a beetle 
 without food three complete years, when it escaped. 
 Dr Shaw mentions two Egyptian serpents that had been 
 preserved for the period of five years, without suste- 
 nance, in a bottle closely corked ; yet, when he saw 
 them, they had cast their skins, and were as lively as if 
 newly caught. 
 
 Tlicre are some surprising instances of the power of 
 animals to survive long under the privation of food ; 
 and others occur, which are beyond the possibility of 
 deception, such as a decapitated snail, which, though 
 deprived of the very organs for taking nourishment, 
 will not only live months, perhaps years, but will ac- 
 quire a new head, similar to that of which it was de- 
 prived. 
 
 The state of an animal, living in the air without sus- 
 tenance, is, in the general case, very different from one 
 living without it in water. In this fluid, we have seen 
 many of the smaller animals survive a long time, with- 
 out any other support than what the simple clement 
 afforded. Hydrachnse have been kept eighteen months 
 Avithout any supply of food ; and leeches, as well as 
 certain species of fishes, above three years. Still these 
 instances are not to be compared with those where the 
 privation of nourishment is absolute; because it is
 
 ABSTRACTION. 
 
 difficult lo ascertain, Nvlicthci imperceptible animalcula 
 uiight not be the food of such animals. It has been 
 tliought, indeed, that living creatures may increase in 
 size, without any nutriment ; and it is certain, though 
 the point may probably be explained on difl'erent princi- 
 ples, that the animated form will unfold by the simple 
 application of heat alone ; and that it will increase its 
 size after it has burst its integuments. Thus, the eggs 
 of fishes, snails, and other aquatic animals, will be 
 hatched, and their young attain considerable size, in 
 nothing but water. Vipers also, if taken when just 
 produced by the mother, will grow much larger, though 
 supplied only with air. See Redi Observa-ioni a ffli 
 Animuli Viventi, die se trovano negli Animali Vtventi. 
 BufFon Histoire Xaturtlle. Virey sur les Vers, Sue 
 SU7' la Vitatite. Muller Hydrachng. Hunter on the 
 Animal Economy. Phil. Tratis. vol. xiv. p. 577. Id. 
 1741, vol. xli. p. 725. Mem. Acad. Far. 172]. Comment. 
 Bojwn. torn. ii. p. 221. (c) 
 
 ABSTRACT Number, is a collection of units 
 considered by themselves, which do not indicate any 
 thing determinate. For example, 2 is an abstract 
 number; but when we say 2 men, 2 is then concrete. 
 {nv) 
 
 ABSTRACTION, in metaphysics, a mental opera- 
 tion, by which we separate, in thought, things which 
 are naturally conjoined. According to the logicians, 
 it is an operation of the mind, by which wc detach from 
 our conceptions all those circumstances that render 
 them particular, and thereby fit them to denote a whole 
 rank or class of beings. Thus, in contemplating the 
 various kinds of triangles, we leave out, by the power of 
 abstraction, every one of their properties, but that of 
 their having three sides, which thus becomes charac- 
 teristic of a whole genus of beings, that may neverthe- 
 less differ from each other in many other particulars, 
 such as the length of their sides, the proportional mag- 
 nitude of their angles, kc. In like manner, while consi- 
 dering the various individuals of the human race, we 
 discover certain characteristic properties, such as pecu- 
 liarities of form, stature, language, reason, &c. which 
 they all possess in common ; and which therefore are 
 assigned to the whole of this class of individuals, under 
 the abstract denomination of man. In this manner are 
 iormed general ideas, and general terms, the great in- 
 struments of scientific research. See Logic and Me- 
 taphysics. 
 
 Abstraction, according to Mr Locke, may be em- 
 ployed in three ways. 1st, the mind may consider 
 some particular part of a thing, distinct from the 
 whole ; as a man's arm, without the consideration of 
 the rest of his body. 2dly, we may consider the mode 
 of a substance, without reference to the substance 
 itself; or we may separately consider several modes 
 which subsist together in one substance. It is by this 
 kind of abstraction, that geometricians treat separately 
 of the length of bodies, which they call a line, without 
 the consideration of their breadth and thickness. 3dly, 
 •by abstraction, the mind frames general, or universal 
 ideas, omitting the modes and relations, which are 
 peculiar to the individual objects whence they are de- 
 rived. Thus, when we would understand a thinking 
 being in general, we gather from our own conscious- 
 ness, what it is to think ; and, omitting the considera- 
 tion of whatever has a peculiar relation to our mind, 
 or to the human mind, we form the conception of a 
 thinking being in general. 
 
 This last operation of abstraction, by which general 
 ideas are formed, miplies the exercise of another men- 
 tal power, by which wc compare together the various 
 objects of nature, and discover tliat one or more attri- 
 butes d.rc common to many individuals. Tliis power 
 has Ijcen c-Mtd generalizalion j and it has been said, 
 that though wc could not generalize without some de- 
 gree of abstraction, yet we might abstract without ge- 
 neralizing. Thus, 1 may attend to the whiteness of the 
 paper before me, without applyhig that colour to any 
 other object ; and the whiteness of this individual ob- 
 ject is an abstract conception, though not a general 
 one, while applied to one individual only. (See Reid's 
 Essays on the Intellectual Forjcrs.) This power of 
 generalization appears to be nothing more than an ex- 
 ercise of the mental operation more commonly known 
 by the name of association or combination ; whereby 
 we arc led to conjoin in thought objects which resem- 
 ble each other in certain particulars, or wliich, even by 
 mere accident, have been presented to the mind toge- 
 ther. By means of this power of combining, and the 
 co-operating faculty of abstraction, we are naturally led 
 to trace the manifold resemblances and difl'erences 
 which the objects of nature exhibit : and by ascertain- 
 ing the general laws, to which their various phenomena 
 are subjected, we render them proper subjects for 
 scientific speculation. See Association. 
 
 The theory of abstract ideas has cost metaphysicians 
 as much trouble as any branch of their abstruse science, 
 and has divided them into sects or parties, between 
 which a keen controversy has long been carried on 
 respecting this subject. Plato and Aristotle, among 
 the ancients, maintained, xhsx abstract ideas are beings 
 which have a real existence, at least in the mind that 
 conceives them : Zeno asserted, that they were mere 
 non-entities. Most of the schoolmen sided with Aris- 
 totle ; but Roscelinus, and Peter Abelard, adopted the 
 opinion of Zeno ; and asserted, that abstract ideas, or 
 tiniversals; as they called them, were nothing but names ; 
 whence they were called nomi?iali.its, and their oppo- 
 nents got the name of realists. A few chose to place 
 universality, neither in things nor in names, but in our 
 conceptions ; from which they were called concrfnuaHits. 
 The disputes on this subject foi-med the chief, if not 
 the only employment of the learned, during the middle 
 ages ; and sometimes they had recourse to hard blows, 
 when they found themselves deficient in argument. 
 
 The metaphysicians of our own country have exer- 
 cised a great deal of ingenuity upon this subject; and 
 have, in general, been favourable to the doctrine of 
 nominalism. Hobbes, Berkeley, Hume, Campbell, and 
 professor Stewart, have all been decided nominalists, 
 and have adduced many powerful arguments in support 
 of their opinion. Cudworth and Locke, however, were 
 realists, or rather conceptuali^jts; and we may join Dr 
 Reid to the same class. The following short passage, 
 from Cudworth, contains a pretty clear statement of 
 the doctrine of the conceptualists. " It is a ridiculous 
 conceit of a modern atheistic writer, Mr Hobbes, that 
 universals are nothing else but names, attributed to 
 many singular bodies ; because, whatever is, is singu- 
 lar. For, though whatsoever exists without the mind 
 be singular, yet it is plain, that there are conceptions in 
 our minds objectively universal. Which universal ob- 
 jects of our mind," though they exist not as such any 
 where without it, yet they are not, therefore, nothing, 
 but hare an intelligible entity for this veiy reason, be-
 
 ABU 
 
 ABY 
 
 35 
 
 cause they arc conceivable ; for since nonentity is not 
 conceivable, whatsoever is conceivable, and an object of 
 the mind, is therefore something." Intcll. Syst. p. 731. 
 
 To this we shall oppose an argimienl of the Abbe 
 dc Condillac, an ingenious advocate for nominalism 
 among the French. " If you say that abstract ideas are 
 any thing but names, say, if you can, what that thing is. 
 
 In the case of number, when you take away the idea 
 of the fingers, or any other objects which naturally 
 suggest plurality, when you take away the names which 
 are its signs, you will seek in vain for any idea in the 
 mind ; there absolutely remains tiolMng-." La Langue 
 de Ca/culu, p. i. c. 4. 
 
 Lord Bolingbroke was of opinion, that a great deal of 
 this controversy was merely verbal, and arose from not 
 making a proper distinction between idcan and nolions, 
 which last are altogether confined to the mind, and 
 therefore need not be copies of any individual thing in 
 nature. There are some philosophers \t\\o are so far 
 realists or conceptualists, as to admit, that distinct mental 
 notions or conce/itto?!s, may be attached to abstract or 
 general terms, such as luhitcncss, goodness, extensmi, 
 !icc. though they are of opinion, that there can be no 
 pictures of these properties delineated in the mind ; 
 and that they cannot exist externally, but as attributes 
 to some subject, (jn) 
 
 ABSURDUM, Reductio ad, hi Geometry, is that 
 mode of demonstration, by which it is shown that any 
 other hypothesis different from that contained in the 
 proposition, involves a contradiction, or leads to an 
 absurdity, (to) 
 
 ABTHANE, an officer anciently known in Scotland, 
 whose precise office has been the subject of much con- 
 troversy among antiquarians. By some writers, thane 
 is considered to be the bailiff of the king, and abthane the 
 bailiff or steward of the abbot. This distinction was 
 introduced long after the office was known in Scotland ; 
 and it is said, that when lands were granted to a bishop 
 or abbot by the king, but with the reservation of par- 
 ticular rights, the province of the thane was to attend 
 to such rights, while that of the abthane was to manage 
 those pertaining to the ecclesiastics. See Trans. AntUj. 
 Soc. Edin. vol. i. (f) 
 
 ABUBEKER, the immediate successor of Mahomet, 
 the first who bore the title of caliph, which signifies 
 simply vicar and successor ; and the first who col- 
 lected into a book the scattered fragments of the Koran. 
 This he called Almothaf, or " the book," and deposited 
 it in the hands of Mahomet's widow. Abubeker re- 
 ceived his name after the marriage of his daughter 
 Ayesha to Mahomet, the words Abu Beer, signifying, 
 " father of the virgin." For this prophet he bore the 
 highest veneration ; and vouched for the authenticity of 
 his revelations, from his nightly visits to heaven. The 
 death of Mahomet being an event which his followers 
 believed impossible, the doctrines he had established 
 were in danger of being overthrown. But Abubeker 
 was elected his successor, and the moderation which he 
 displayed, tended to reconcile the discordant opinions 
 that prevailed. At first his reign was turbulent, because 
 many of the Mahometans refused to recognise him ; 
 however, he not only succeeded in reducing them all to 
 obedience, but extended the faith he professed into other 
 countries. After a life eminently distinguished by pru- 
 dence, equity, and moderation, he died in the sixty -fourth 
 year of his age, A. D. 635. (c) 
 
 ABULFARAGIUS, Gregory, was bom at Malatia, 
 
 Vol. I. Part. I. 
 
 a city of Armenia, in 1226. At the age of twenty he 
 was ordained bishop of (iuba, by Ignatius the patriarch 
 of the Jacobites, and was elected their primate in the 
 East, about the year 13Gfi. He was said to have pre- 
 dicted his death, which happened in 1286. The most 
 learned of all his works are liis Epitome of Universal 
 History from the Creation to his own time ; and his 
 Treatise on the origin and manners of the Arabians. 
 Both these works were translated into Latin, and illus- 
 trated with notes by Dr Pocockc, the one hi 1663, and 
 the other m 1650. The last of these works is known by 
 the name of S/iecimen Hist. .Arabian, and is an extract 
 from the first, (to) 
 
 ABULFEDA, Ismael, prince of Hamah, a city of 
 Syria, and remarkable for his learning, was born at Da- 
 mascus in 1273. In 1321 he wrote a valuable geographi- 
 cal work, published at London by Gracviusin 1650. He 
 also wrote the lives of Mahomet and Saladin ; the for- 
 mer of which was printed at Oxford in 1723, and the 
 latter at Leyden in 1732. His Annals ofMahomedan- 
 ism is a work much esteemed. It was published, ac- 
 companied with a Latin version, in 1789-1794, at Copen- 
 hagen in 5 vols. 4to. Abulfeda was a soldier as well as 
 an author. He served in several expeditions under his 
 father; he was at the storming of Tripoli in 1289, and 
 at the capture of Acca in 1291 ; where he distinguished 
 himself by his bravery and skill. He died in 1332. (r) 
 
 ABULGHAZI, Bayatuu, Khan of the Tartars, and 
 descendant of Jenghizkan, was born at Urgens in 1 605. 
 After a series of misfortunes, he was raised to the 
 throne of Karuzm, in 1645, and rendered himself for- 
 midable to his enemies by the courage which he dis- 
 played during a reign of twenty years. Being deter- 
 mined to spend the remainder of his days in peaceful 
 quiet, he resigned his sceptre to his son in 1665, and, 
 in his retirement, began to compose the celebrated ge- 
 nealogical History of the Turks. His labours, however, 
 were interrupted by his death ; but the work which he 
 had begun was completed by his successor. It is written 
 in the Turkish language, and is considered as the most 
 authentic history of the Turks and Tartars that is now- 
 extant. This work was procured by Strahlenberg when 
 a captive in Siberia, and has been translated into most 
 of the languages of Europe. See IMod. Univ. Hist. vol. 
 iii.p. 334. (to) 
 
 ABUNA. See Abyssinian Church. 
 
 ABUNDANT Number, is one whose divisors, or ali- 
 quot parts, added together, exceed the number itself. 
 Thus 24 is an abundant number, because the sum of 
 its divisors, which are 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 12, exceed the 
 number 24. See Deficient Kumber, Perfect Nttm- 
 ber. (to) 
 
 ABYDOS, accordmg to some geographers, is the 
 ancient castle of the Dardanelles, situated on tlie Asiatic 
 side of the Strait of that name ; where, according to Le 
 Brun, the sea is only 400 toises broad. The city was 
 situated in a plain, and was founded by a colony of Mi- 
 lesians in the reign of Gyges. As this city formerly 
 commanded the Straits, its possession was of great con- 
 sequence to those who wished to cut off the communica- 
 tion between the Euxine Sea and the Archipelago. It 
 v/as therefore defended with the most obstinate courage, 
 against the attack of king Philip ; but, after immense 
 carnage, it was compelled to surrender in 201. A. C. 
 The determined bravery of the inhabitants, on this oc- 
 casion, is perhaps unequalled ui the annals of war. Fifty 
 of the citizens swore before the inhabitants, that, when
 
 34 
 
 ABY 
 
 ABY 
 
 the enemy was master of the inner wall, they would put 
 the women and children to the sword, burn the galleys 
 which contained all their effects, and throw their gold 
 and silver into the sea ; and the inhabitants vowed in 
 return, that they would either conquer or fall. This 
 magnanimous, though savage resolution, was so far 
 executed, that the members of the same family butcher- 
 ed each other ; and none were saved but those whom 
 the Macedonians restrained from self-destruction. It 
 was near this city that Xerxes built the famous bridge 
 across the Hellespont. See Livij, kwi. cap. 18. Juntin. 
 ii. c. 13. Univers. Hist. vol. iv. p. 462,490. vii. 382. viii. 
 189. ix. 257. (7u) 
 
 ABYDUS, a celebrated town in Egypt, now called 
 Madfuneh or the buried city. It is situated between 
 Ptolemais and Diospolis Parva, about three miles to the 
 west ot the Nile, near the village of El Berbi, and cele- 
 brated lor the palace of Memnon, and the splendid 
 temple of Osiris built by Ismandes. The city itself, 
 which almost equalled Thebes in grandeur and mag- 
 nificence, was reduced to a village in the reign of Au- 
 gustus, and is now only a heap of uninhabited ruins ; but 
 in its immediate vicinity, the celebrated tomb of Is- 
 mandes is still found. A portico 60 feet high, resting 
 on two rows of massy columns, forms the entrance to the 
 tomb, which leads into a temple 300 feet long and 145 
 wide. In this and the other apartments, wiiich are very 
 spacious, the walls are covered with hieroglyphics. 
 Multitudes of animals, human figures with pointed caps, 
 and several of the Indian divinities, are sculpturcfd in 
 rude proportion. In this building are many subterrfinc- 
 ous apartments, which are said to be as spacious and 
 magnificent as those which are above them, but the 
 passages which lead to them are obstructed by heaps of 
 rubbish, which the Ai-abs have piled up when searching 
 for treasure. See Pococke's Descri/it. East. p. 83. and 
 Savary's Letters on Egyfit, vol. ii. p. 5. Univ. Hist. i. 393. 
 xvii. 196. {nv) 
 
 ABYLA, a mountain in Africa, called one of the pil- 
 lars of Hercules, and situated on the Straits of Gibraltar, 
 opposite to the mountain Calpe, the pillar on the Span- 
 ish side, ^ce Bochart Ojicr. tom. i. p. 731, Sec. Strabo. 
 3. Mela. i. 5. {iv) 
 
 ABYSS, is the term, employed by the old geologists 
 to denote the immense cavern in the bosom of the earth, 
 communicating with the ocean, into which they suppose 
 the water retired after the deluge had subsided. 
 
 Those who wish to examine the controversies upon 
 the existence of a subterraneous cavern, may consult 
 .4ct. Erudit. tom. vi. p. 24. Id. 1727, p. 313. Journal 
 des a^avans., tom. Iviii. p. 393. Memoirs of Literature, 
 vol. viii. p. 101. Ray's Phijsico-Theology, disc. ii. ch. ii. 
 p. 76; Woodward's Hist, of the Earth; and Jameson's 
 Mitieralogy, vol.iii. p. 76. See also Geognosy, (to) 
 
 ABYSSINIA, Abassia, or Upper Ethiopia, called 
 likewise Habbesh by the surrounding nations, is an em- 
 pire of Africa, comprehended between the 7th and 16th 
 degrees of N. Lat. and the 30th and 40th degrees of E. 
 Long. All nations of a black complexion were called, 
 by the ancients, Ethiopians. Under this title were com- 
 prehended the Arabians and other Asiatics ; and the 
 Africans in general were divided into the western or 
 Hesperian Ethiopians, and the eastern, situated above 
 Egypt. Hence there is an apparent disagreement 
 among ancient authors concerning the situation of Ethi- 
 i>pia, and it was known by a variety of names. Sometimes 
 '.t '.va') culled India; a vague appellation, which seems 
 
 to have been given indiscriminately to those eastern na- 
 tions which were most remote, or least known. Some- 
 times it was denominated Atlantia and Etiuria ; and, in 
 the more distant periods of antiquity, C< fihenia. Its 
 most common appellation, however, was ylbasenc, a word 
 not unlike its modern names, j^bassia and .4byssinia. On 
 the other hand, Persia, Chaldea, Assyria, and other 
 Asiatic countries, were sometimes styled Ethiopia; and 
 all the nations along the coast of the Red Sea were called 
 promiscuously Ethiopians, or Indians. 
 
 There was one country, however, to which the name 
 Ethiopia was thought particularly to belong, and which 
 was therefore called Ethiopia Propria. It was bounded 
 on the north by Egypt, extending all the way to the less 
 cataract of the Nile, and the island Elephantine ; on the 
 west, by Libya Interior; on the east, by the Red Sea; 
 and on the south, by imknown parts of Africa. The geo- 
 graphy of ancient Ethiopia is involved in much obscu- 
 rity : indeed no accurate infomiation can be expected 
 concerning the interior of a country, of which even the 
 general outlines have not been ascertained with preci- 
 sion. Ancient writers agree in describing it as very 
 mountainous, though they mention none of its moun- 
 tains of any consequence, except Garbata and Elephas, 
 which are generally supposed to answer to the moun- 
 tains of Tigre. A great variety of nations were assigned 
 to ancient Ethiopia, distinguished by names expressive 
 either of some personal peculiarity, or of their particular 
 mode of living. Among these were the Blemmyes, 
 said, probably on account of the shortness of their necks, 
 to have no heads, but to have their eyes, mouths, and 
 noses, in their breasts ; the Troglodytes, scarcely supe- 
 rior to the brutes ; the Struthiophagi, or ostrich eaters ; 
 Acridophagi, or locust eaters ; Chelonophagi, who fed 
 on tortoises ; Elephantophagi, who lived on elephants ; 
 Agriophagi, who ate the flesh of wild beasts ; Anthro- 
 pophagi, or man eaters, now supposed to have been the 
 Caffres, and not Ethiopians ; and the Macrobii, a power- 
 ful nation, remarkable for their longevity. 
 
 The remote situation of this counti^ rendered it a 
 proper scene for poetic fiction. To this, perhaps, rather 
 than to his historical accuracy, we must ascribe the cha- 
 racter which Homer has given the Ethiopians as the 
 justest of men, with whom even the gods deigned to 
 associate in the familiarity of convivial intercourse. 
 Concerning their general customs, however, we receive 
 from ancient historians more certain information. In 
 many of these they differed widely from all other na- 
 tions, and particularly in the manner of electing their 
 kings. The priests, in whose hands the chief power 
 was lodged, chose the most reputable men of their or- 
 der, and drew around them a circle which they were 
 not allo^vcd to pass. A priest entered the circle, running 
 and jumping like a satyr. Those, enclosed as candidates 
 for the sovereignty, endeavoured to catch hold of him, 
 and the person who first succeeded, was hailed as the 
 vicegerent of Heaven, intrusted by Providence with the 
 government of the nation. The sovereign, thus elected, 
 began immediately to live after the manner prescribed 
 by the laws. He was regulated, in all his conduct, by 
 the customs of the country over which he presided ; and, 
 in dispensing rewards and punishments, was obliged 
 rigidly to adhere to the original institutions of the state. 
 A subject could not be put to death by the royal order, 
 though capitally convicted in a court of justice. An of- 
 ficer was sent to him with the signal of death ; and the 
 criminal, shutting himself up in his house, became his
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 35 
 
 own executioner. The priests of Mcroe, who conferred 
 the royal oflice, assumect an ai'bilrary power over the 
 sovereign, and even limited at pleasure the period of his 
 reign. When a king had dtspleased tliem, or when they 
 wished to give him a successor, they despatched a cou- 
 rier to order him to die. To oppose a mandate, which 
 was represented as proceeding from the gods, would 
 have been regarded as the most heinous of crimes ; and 
 the kings, though under no obligation to obedience but 
 what tlicir o^^n superstition imposed, implicitly com- 
 plied with these tyrannical awards. At length Erga- 
 menes, who reigned in the time of Ptolemy the Second, 
 and who was instructed in the philosophy of the Greeks, 
 had the coiu'age to shake off this iniquitous yoke. lie 
 led an army against Meroe, put all the priests to the 
 sword, and instituted a new worship less arbitrary and 
 oppressive. Among the friends and adherents of the 
 king, the singular custom prevailed, of suljjecting them- 
 selves to every personal infirmity, with which, by acci- 
 dent or malady, he happened to be afflicted. It was ac- 
 counted base and disloyal to refuse to share in all their 
 monarch's sufferings, since men are induced, even by 
 the sentiments of common affection, to appropriate tlie 
 distresses or happiness of their friends : to die with their 
 sovereign, was considered a most glorious testimony of 
 their fidelity. A prince, in whose safety his subjects 
 were so nearly interested, must have been very secure 
 against the machinations of treason. 
 
 Their funeral ceremonies were peculiar and remark- 
 able. The body, after being salted, was put into a hol- 
 low statue, resembling the deceased ; and the statue was 
 placed in a niche, on a pillar erected for the piu'pose. 
 These statues were made of gold, silver, or earthen 
 ware, according to the circumstances of the deceased. 
 The body was kept for a year in the houses of the near- 
 est relations; who, during that time, offered sacrifices 
 and first fruits to their departed friend. When the year 
 had expired, the niche was fixed in a place, set apart 
 .for that purpose near the town. 
 
 In war, the Ethiopians made use of bows and arrows, 
 darts, lances, and several other weapons, which they 
 managed with great strength and address. Their ar- 
 .rows were very short, pointed with sharp stones instead 
 of iron, and dipped in tlie virus of serpents, or some 
 other poison so powerful, that the wovmds ^^■hich they 
 inflicted were followed by instant death. Their bows 
 were four cubits long ; and to bend them required a 
 degree of strength which no other nation could exert. 
 Like the Parthians, they retreated fighting; and, whilst 
 retiring at full speed, discharged volleys of arrows with 
 the utmost dexterity and effect. Such were some of 
 the customs by which those Ethiopians were distin- 
 guished who lived in the capital, and who inhabited the 
 island of Meroe, and that part of Ethiopia which was 
 adjacent to Egypt. There were many other Ethiopian 
 nations, some of which cultivated the tracts on each side 
 of the Nile, and the islands with which it is interspersed ; 
 others inhabited the provinces bordering on Arabia; and 
 others dwelt nearer the centre of Africa. All these 
 people had the negro features; flat noses, black skins, 
 and woolly hair. They were savage and ferocious in 
 their appearance, brutal in their customs and manners. 
 They are now known by the name of Shankala; and still 
 retain their primitive rudeness and barbarity. 
 
 The inhabitants of the coimtry above Meroe made re- 
 markable distinctions among their gods. Some they 
 supposed to be of an eternal, incorruptible nature, as the 
 
 sun, til*; moon, and the universe ; others, born of men, 
 had acquired divine honours by U\eir virtvies, and their 
 benefactions to mankind. But there were some Ethio- 
 pians wllD believed in no gods ; and, when the sun rose, 
 they fled into their marshes, execrating him as their 
 crudest enemy. These people differed likewise froni 
 other nations in their manner of honouring the dead. 
 Some thought it the most honouralile burial to throw 
 their bodies into the river: others placed them in niches 
 in their houses, that their children might be roused, by 
 the sight of their ancestors, to virtuous achievements-; 
 and tliat the more advanced in life might retain their 
 deceased friends in their memory and affection. To 
 swear with their hand laid upon a dead body, was their 
 most sacred and inviolable oath. Their monarchies 
 were, in general, elective ; and their ideas of the quali- 
 ties requisite in a sovereign, exhibit, in a most striking 
 light, tiie sunplicity of these barbarous tribes. Some of 
 them conferred the crown on themost handsome man of 
 the nation ; thinking it proper, that dignity and a fine 
 person, in their estimation the best gifts of heaven, 
 should always be united. Others preferred, as their 
 sovereign, the most vigilant shepherd, from a reasonable 
 persuasion, that he would prove likewise the most faith- 
 tul guardian of his people. In some districts, the richest 
 was exalted to the throne, because he had the most am- 
 ple means of doing good to his subjects ; while others 
 thought the strongest most intitled to royal power, inas- 
 much as he was ablest to defend them from their ene- 
 mies. 
 
 Modern Abyssinia was scarcely known to Europeans 
 till it was discovered by the Portuguese towards the end 
 of the fifteenth century. Before that time, indeed, a few 
 individuals had occasionally gone to that country from 
 Italy ; but the information which they communicated 
 concerning it was so vague and obscure, that even its 
 situation was unknown. An embassy from the king of 
 Portugal arrived in Abyssinia in the year 1520. Covil- 
 lan, who had been delegated several years before as 
 ambassador from the same coiu't, was, according to the 
 usual policy of the Abyssinians towards strangers, de- 
 tairtfed in the country, though treated with the utmost 
 kindness and respect. His knowledge of Abyssinia 
 must, of course, have been extensive. He was still 
 alive when his countryman, Roderigo de Lima, came to 
 Shoawith his suite ; and Francisco Alvarez, one of the 
 chaplains to Roderigo's embassy, who, besides residing 
 six years in this kingdom, possessed the additional ad- 
 vantage of Covillan's information, gave the first regular 
 account of Abyssinia. Mr Bruce, who certainly had op- 
 portunities of observation at least equal to those of Al- 
 varez, has questioned the authenticity of his narrative. 
 But the truth is, as Mr Bruce himself has conjectured, 
 that several fabrications were published in Alvarez's 
 name, by persons who had probably never travelled out 
 of their own country. Damian Goez tells us, that he 
 had seen a journal written by Alvarez, very different 
 from that which had been given to the public ; and the 
 writer of tliis article has been favotued with the sight of 
 extracts from the original manuscript, taken by a lady, 
 highly respectable for her rank and accomplishments, 
 while residing in Portugal, which, in everything essen- 
 tial, coincide with the narrative of Bruce. In the reign 
 ofYasous I. amission to Abyssinia was concerted by 
 Louis XIV. of France. The introduction of the mission- 
 aries was facilitated by a dangerous scorbutic disorder, 
 which had attacked Yasous and his son, for which they 
 E2
 
 36 
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 wished U) have tlic advice ol' a European pliysiciaii. 
 Through the influence of the Frencli consul at Cairo, 
 tliis honour was conferred on Charles Poncet, a French 
 chemist and apothecary, whom father Brevedenlfa pious 
 and intelligent Jesuit, attended as his servant, ^'oncet 
 arrived at Gondar on the 21st ol July, 1699, and,*having 
 completely succeeded in curing his royal patients, set 
 out on the following summer on his return for Europe, 
 by the way of Masuah, and, arriving in safety, published 
 a distinct and copious account of his journey. The ac- 
 counts of the Jesuits and Portuguese, with Mr Bruce's 
 Travels, are the only sources of our information respect- 
 ing Abyssinia. To this latter gentleman, whom, not- 
 withstanding the vexatious cavils of ignorance and pre- 
 judice, we scruple not to pronounce one of the most 
 deserving of modern travellers, the world is indebted, 
 not only for a clear and comprehensive view of the geo- 
 graphy of that extensive empire, but for an interesting 
 detail of its history, institutions, and manners. 
 
 The progressive geography of this country cannot 
 easily be traced. Its boundaries have varied at differ- 
 ent periods, according to the power and conquests of its 
 sovereigns. In the days of Amda Sion, who began to 
 reign in the year 1312, it extended from the 16th to the 
 7th degree of north latitude, and from 44° to 35° of east 
 longitude from Greenwich. The most numerous, and 
 the ruling inhabitants of this extensive country, were the 
 descendants of a colony from Yemen, or Arabia Felix. 
 The aboriginal tribes were reduced to dependence, or 
 exiled to the mountains ; the Shankala wandered around 
 the frontiers, which, as in all barbarous kingdoms, were 
 ill defined, and changed almost every year with the vary- 
 ing fortime of war. Wandering Arabs, and Shankala, 
 enclose Abyssinia on the north. The former migrated 
 from the opposite coast of the Red Sea, at a period sub- 
 sequent to the time of Mahomet. The latter are the na- 
 tive inhabitants of ancient Ethiopia, and occupy a more 
 extensive territory than all Abyssinia and Nubia toge- 
 ther. They encircle the whole length of Abyssinia on 
 the west ; join the Galla on the south, and coast down the 
 White river to Sennaar, where they rule under the name 
 of Fungi. To the north, where they arc mingled vWth 
 the Bejaand Belowe Arabs, they are called Dubena. It 
 seems to be the same race, which, in the ridge of moun- 
 tains to the east of Tigre, is known by the appellation of 
 Doha. The Beja are a wandering tribe in the range of 
 moiuitains north of Souakem ; the Taka Halanga appear 
 to be of the same nation ; and it is conjectured, with much 
 probability, that the Belowe are the same with the Alba- 
 nim, a race of degenerate Christians. 
 
 Abyssinia is divided into several provinces, each of 
 which contains many small districts, called in Gcez, Midr, 
 or The Land. Beginning from the north, the natural or- 
 der of the provinces is as follows. 
 
 1 . Passing from Mazaga, the low country, inhabited by 
 the Dubena Shankala, we enter Tigre, an extensive and 
 mountainous province, bounded on the east by the river 
 Mareb, and by the Tacazze on the west ; on its north-east 
 corner, along the shore, it has the territory of the Bahar- 
 nagash ; on the south and south-west it borders on Angot 
 and Lasta. 2. From Tigre we proceed to Samen, a very 
 mountainous region between the rivers Tacazze and Co- 
 ror, bounded by Tigre on the north, Amhara on the south, 
 Angot on the east, and Begemdcr and Dembea on the 
 West. 3. Begember, a rich and valuable province, is 
 boimded on the north by Balessan, a district adjoining to 
 Samen ; on the east by Lasta and Angot, on the south by 
 
 Amhara, fioin which it is separated by the river Bashiio, 
 and on the west by Dembea. 4. On leaving flegcmder, 
 we enter AnUiara, which is bounded by Begemdcr on the 
 north, Walaka and Marrabeton the south, Angot on the 
 east, and west by the Abay, or Abyssinian Nile. 5. Wa- 
 laka, a low, unwholesome, but fertile province, lies be- 
 tween the two riveis Gcshen and Samba ; and south- 
 ward of that is the Upper Shoa. 6. Damot forms the 
 eastern division of the country, which is incircled by the 
 river Abay, or Bahar-cl-Azrek, which, issuing from the 
 lake Tzana, divides this province from Begemder, Am- 
 hara, and Shoa; it is surrounded by the same river on 
 the south, and is separated from Gojam by the moun- 
 tainous ridge of Litchambara. 7. Gojam, called more 
 properly Agow-Midre, is divided from Damot by the 
 range of Aiormasha and Litchambara ; it i-eaches on the 
 north-west to Kuara and the countiy of the Shankala; 
 and on the south-west and south is bounded by the Abys- 
 sinian Nile. 8. Dembea comprehends all the country 
 that lies around the lake of that name; including on the 
 east Foggora, Dara, and Alata; on the north-east, Gon- 
 dar, the metropolis, and the rich district beneath it; on 
 the south-west, the district of Bed, or the plain barren 
 country ; and on the west, the lands around Dingleber 
 and Waindagar. 9. Kuara is a wild district, lying north 
 of the lake Dembea, and bordering on Fazucio and the 
 country of the Shankala. 10. Walkait, Tzegade, and 
 Woggora, are low provmces north of the lake of Dem- 
 bea. The first of these is an unwholesome district, of- 
 ten used as a state prison. Tzegade and Woggora are 
 excellent corn countries. Woggora, in particular, which 
 lies east of Gondar, is one of the granaries of the king- 
 dom. Ras-el-FecI, of which Mr Bruce was appointed 
 governor, is a wild Mahometan district, the mostnortJier- 
 ly territory belonging to the Abyssinians. 
 
 In this list of the provinces of Abyssinia, the reader 
 will observe that two are omitted, which Mr Bruce has 
 included in his enumeration. These are Masuah and 
 Sire; the former of which, situated at the entrance of 
 Abyssinia from the Arabian Gulf, is in reality a distinct 
 and independent territory, whose sovereign, or Naybe, 
 originally a vassal of the Ottoman Porte, taking advan- 
 tage of his remote situation, renounced the authoi'ity of 
 his former lord, and chose rather to purchase the friend- 
 ship of the Abyssinian monarch, by yielding to him one 
 half of the annual customs of Masuah. As for Sire, it has 
 long been absorbed in the province and government of 
 Tigre, and seemed, therefore, to have no claim to be class- 
 ed as a separate province. 
 
 In Abyssinia, more, perhaps, than in any other coun- 
 try, the rude magnificence of nature is strikingly display- 
 ed. It is pervaded by vast ranges of mountains, whose 
 amazing height, and wild irregular forms, excite at once 
 the most sublime ideas of creative power, and the most 
 humbling conviction of the weakness of man. Of these, 
 some lower in the shape of pyramids, obelisks, or prisms ; 
 some, flat, thin, and square, seem scarce firm enough to 
 resist the violence of the wind ; while others, still more 
 wonderful, appear like inverted pyramids, which, by some 
 dreadful concussion, have been pitched upon tlieir points, 
 and present an apparent exception to the general law of 
 gravitation. To travel through these mountainous re- 
 gions, is toilsome and hazardous. Sometimes the road 
 is intersected by deep gullies, full of loose stones, or ob- 
 structed by huge fragments of rock. Sometimes it lies 
 in the bed of a torrent, which has been exhausted by the 
 heat of summer, but which is often so suddenly swelled
 
 ABYSSIMA. 
 
 57 
 
 by the rain in ilic mountains, as to thunder down in an 
 instant witii the violence ot a mighty river. Now it winds 
 up the side of a steep and cragg-y hill ; and now utretches 
 along the brink of a hanging precipiee, from which the 
 traveller looks, with mingled delight and tear, on the 
 deep and beautiful valley beneath. 
 
 The mountains of Abyssinia appear in three ridges; 
 the first of no great height, full of gullies and broken 
 ground, and thinly covered with shrubs ; the second high- 
 er and steeper, still more rugged and bare ; the third, a 
 row of sharp uneven hills, which, though inferior to those 
 in the centre, would yet be accounted high in any coun- 
 tiy in Europe. Far above all the rest towers Taranta, 
 in the east of the kingdom, whose sunnnit, generally in- 
 volved in clouds, is never seen but in the clearest wea- 
 ther: it is one of the highest moimtains in the world. 
 Next to Taranta, the most remarkable are the precipit- 
 ous mountains of Adowa in Tigre; Lamalmon,and Amda 
 Gideon, or the Jews' Rock, in Samen ; Ganza in the south 
 of the empire ; and the triple ridge of Aformasha, Litch- 
 ambara, and Amid-Amid, which as they form a regular 
 crescent, Mr Bruce supposed to be the Mountains of the 
 Moon. 
 
 Abyssinia, as might be expected in a country so moun- 
 tainous, is watered by many streams. Besides the tor- 
 rents formed by the rains, and the perennial rivulets 
 which wind through the valleys, several large rivers take 
 their rise among the hills, giving beauty and fertility to 
 the country through which they flow. Of these the most 
 considerable is the Bahar-el-azrek, or Blue River, called 
 by the natives Abay ; which Mr Bruce, taking it for the 
 Nile, traced to its sources in the district of Ras-el-Feel. 
 For this mistake, he has been censured with a degree of 
 petulance and acrimony, that would almost warrant the 
 supposition, that his accusers themselves believe and 
 envy the discovery, which they are so vehemently anxious 
 to disprove. When Mr Bruce sailed for Africa, it was 
 the general opinion of Europeans, that the sources of 
 the Nile were to be sought in Abyssiuia. On his arri- 
 val in that country, he actually found a large river which 
 the inhabitants dignified with that name ; and it surely 
 argued no uncommon portion of vanity or credulity, if 
 he imagined that he had succeeded in the object of his 
 journey, exactly where concurring circumstances led 
 him to expect success, and exulted in the belief of hav- 
 ing first discovered those fountains, which had so long 
 been the subject of fruitless curiosity. The Bahar-cl- 
 Abiad, or White River, which is the principal branch of 
 the Nile, takes its rise among the Jibbel Kumri, or 
 Mountains of the Moon, in the country of Donga, but 
 its sources have not yet been explored. The river, next 
 in consequence to the Abay, is the Tacuz, or Tacazze, 
 which flows from three springs in the province of Angot, 
 about 200 miles south-west of Gondar. Another branch 
 of the Tacazze rises in tlie frontiers of Begemder, near 
 Dabuco ; whence running between Gouliou, Lasta, and 
 Belessan, it joins the Angot branch, and becomes the 
 boundary between Tigre and Amhara. Tacazze was 
 the Astaboras of the ancients, and the Abay was their 
 Astapus. The Mareb is a large, deep, and smooth ri- 
 ver, which forms the boimdary between Tigre and the 
 Baharnagash. The Maleg, said to rise in the marshes 
 of Narea, joins the Tacazze after flowing in a parallel 
 course of considerable length. Several tributary streams, 
 as the Angueah and Bowihah, fall into the Tacazze and 
 Abay. The Jemma, whose sources arc in the mountains 
 of Amid-Amid, is rather larger than the Abay, and very 
 
 much more rupid. Alter flowing through the valley of 
 St George, it crosses Maitsha, on the east of the Abay, 
 m which it loses itself below Samsur. There are two 
 other rivers, the Hanazo and the Ilawash, which flow in 
 an opposite direction, towards the entrance of the Red 
 Sea; the former of which is said to be absorbed by the 
 sands of Adel. Some of these rivers arc distinguished 
 by cataracts of stupendous height and volume. The 
 most magnificent is that of the Abay at Alata. Its height 
 Mr Bruce supposes to l)C about lorty feet. The river, 
 wheu he viewed it, had been considerably increased by 
 rams, and fell in one unbroken sheet of water, about half 
 an English mile in breadth, with a force and noise that 
 was triUy awful. A thick fmne, or haze, covered the fall' 
 around, and hung over the stream both above and below, 
 marking its track, though the water was unseen. 
 
 The lake Tzana, or Denibca, is l)y much the largest 
 expanse of water known in Abyssinia. It is about fifty 
 miles long, and thirty-five in its greatest breadth, though 
 it decreases greatly at each extremity, where it is some- 
 times not above ten miles broad; its extent, however, 
 differs greatly in the dry and rainy seasons. This lake 
 is interspersed with many islaiuls, which were formerly 
 used as prisons for the great, or as places of voluntary re- 
 treat for the discontented or unfortunate. Near the mid- 
 dle is one called Tzana, which is supposed to have given 
 name to the lake. But, notwithstanding the number of 
 rivers in Abyssinia, there are many parts of it totally des- 
 titute of springs, or flowing streams, where the inhabi- 
 tants are compelled to use the water of stagnant pools 
 formed by the rains. 
 
 Though situated within the torrid zone, Abyssinia is, 
 in general, temperate and healthy. Its climate varies, 
 indeed, with the surface and aspect of the country. In 
 the high and mountamous regions, the coolness of the air, 
 and the serenity of the sky, give health and sprightliness 
 to the inhabitants ; while those confined to the valleys, or 
 dwelling in the vicinity of marshes or sandy deserts, lan- 
 guish under the pernicious influence of excessive heat, 
 or a moist, stagnant suffocating atmosphere. Indeed, the 
 climate seems to be influenced by situation and soil, al- 
 most as much as by the latitude. On the summit of La- 
 malmon, Mr Bruce observed the thermometer stand at 
 32", in the depth of winter, the wind north-west, clear 
 and cold, attended with hoar-frost, which vanished into 
 dew about a quarter of an hour after sunrise. He saw- 
 hail lie for three hours on the moiuitains of Amid-Amid. 
 But snov/ is never seen even on the loftiest mountains; 
 nor has it found a name in the language of Abyssinia. 
 There is a curious passage, however, in one of the na- 
 tive historians, in which a fall of snow is very explicitly 
 described ; but described as a phenomenon unknown be- 
 fore, and for which no appropriate term had as yet been 
 invented. Speaking of the village of Zinzenam, whose 
 name signifies rain ujion rain, he thus proceeds : "This 
 village has its name from an extraordinary circumstance 
 that once happened in these parts. (Zinzenam lies in 
 the level country of Foggora.) A shower of rain fell, 
 which was not properly of the nature of rain, as it did 
 not run upon the ground, but remained very light, having 
 scarce the weight of feathers, of a beautiful white colour 
 like flour: it fell in showers, and darkened the air more 
 than rain, and liker to mist. It covered the face of the 
 whole cotnitry for several days, retaining its whiteness 
 the whole time ; then went away like dew, without leav- 
 ing any smell, or unwholesome effect, behind it." 
 
 The following Table, extracted from the register
 
 38 
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 kept by Mr Bruce at Gondar, from February 1770 to 
 May 1771, may serve to give some idea of" the general 
 state of the baromcLer and thermometer during that pe- 
 riod. We select from the register of each month the 
 altitude most frequent at noon, and then, to show their 
 full range, shall give the lowest and highest altitude of 
 both, during the time when the register was kept. 
 
 Months. 
 
 Barom. 
 
 liier. 
 
 Months. 
 
 Barom. 
 
 Ther. 
 
 Feb. 1770, 
 
 21° 6' 
 
 .72° 
 
 Oct. 1770, 
 
 21'' 
 
 6' 
 
 67° 
 
 March, 
 
 21 5 
 
 80 
 
 November, 
 
 21 
 
 5 
 
 71 
 
 April, 
 
 21 11 
 
 76 
 
 December, 
 
 21 
 
 5 
 
 69 
 
 May, 
 
 21 n 
 
 74 
 
 Jan. 1771, 
 
 21 
 
 5 
 
 70 
 
 June, 
 
 21 4 
 
 63 
 
 February, 
 
 21 
 
 6 
 
 72 
 
 July, 
 
 21 6 
 
 59 
 
 March, 
 
 21 
 
 6 
 
 77 
 
 August, 
 
 21 6 
 
 61 
 
 April, 
 
 21 
 
 
 
 73 
 
 September, 
 
 21 6 
 
 65 
 
 May, 
 
 21 
 
 1 
 
 73 
 
 In March and April of the year 1770, the thermome- 
 terfrequently stood at 80°, sometimes considerably above 
 it, and once in April rose to 91°, the wind blowing W. 
 N. W. The range of the barometer and theiTOometer 
 
 was. 
 
 Months. 
 
 Hours. 
 
 Barometer. 
 
 Therm 
 
 Wind. 
 
 April 29. 
 
 6 J mom. 
 
 22° 11' 
 
 69° 
 
 S. 
 
 Mar. 29. 
 
 21 even. 
 
 20 11 
 
 75 
 
 E. 
 
 April 19. 
 
 12 noon 
 
 
 91 
 
 W. N. W 
 
 July 7. 
 
 12 noon 
 
 21 6 
 
 545 
 
 W. 
 
 The mountains of Taranta form the boundary between 
 the opposite seasons. On the east side towards the Red 
 Sea, the rainy season is from October to April ; on the 
 western, or Abyssinian side, cloudy, wet, and cold wea- 
 ther, prevails from May to October. This may serve to 
 reconcile an apparent disagreement in the accounts of 
 Alvarez and Bruce. According to Alvarez, the winter 
 in Abyssinia consists of tlirce rainy montlis, February, 
 March, and April ; while Mr Bruce, on the contrary, 
 assigns all these months to summer, and dates the com- 
 mencement of winter from the close of Ajjril, or the be- 
 ginning of May. Alvarez probably describes the sea- 
 sons on the east of Taranta; while Mr Bruce, with more 
 accuracy, confines his description to the seasons peculiar 
 to Abyssinia. From the second week of September, 
 there is an interval of dry, but sickly weather, till the 20th 
 of October, when the rains begin again to fall, and con- 
 tinue constant, but moderate, till the beghining of 
 November. With the last of these rains all epidemic 
 diseases disappear. 
 
 The variety of elevation, which so much diversifies 
 the climate of this extensive country, produces an equal- 
 ly perceptible difTerence in its soil. Many of the loftier 
 mountains are rude masses of rock, either totally bare, 
 or so scantily covered with earth, as to produce nothing 
 but stunted shrubs, or coarse bent grass. But the bar- 
 renness of the hills is amply compensated by the rich 
 fertility of the valleys. There, a deep and kindly soil, 
 fostered by the rays of a vertical sun, rewards the labours 
 of the husbandman with three harvests in the year. The 
 first seed-time is in July and August, in the middle of 
 the rainy season, when they sow wheat, locusso, barley, 
 and tefl'. Towards the end of November, they begin to 
 reap, first their barley, then their wheat, and last of all 
 the teff. In room of these, barley is immediately sown 
 on the same ground, without any manure, and is cut 
 
 down in February. For a third crop, they sometinruis so$r 
 tefl', but more frequently a kind of vetch, or pea, called 
 shimbra ; these they reap before the first rains, which 
 begui to fall in the month of April. In generaj, the level 
 parts of Abyssinia, particularly if watered by any peren- 
 nial stream, are, beyond description, luxuriant and beauti- 
 ful. Nor do even the hills present an uniform aspect of 
 sterility. Some of them, in the vicinity of the principal 
 towns, are cultivated almost to their summits ; the sides 
 of others are clothed with forests of stately trees,adorned 
 at once with the richest fruit, and with flowers of exquisite 
 beauty and delicious fragrance ; and, in passing through 
 this mountainous country, the traveller is often surprised 
 on gaining the height of even its wildest ridges, to meet 
 with cheerful villages and cultivated plains. 
 
 Abyssinia presents a rich field of natural history. 
 There are, indeed, few or none of its aninials which are 
 not to be found in other parts of Africa; but it produces 
 many curious plants, some of which, if not peculiar to 
 itself, have not yet been described by those who have 
 travelled or resided in any other country. In his selec- 
 tion of the plants of Abyssinia, Mr Bruce has chiefly at- 
 tended to those, which, having once been regarded by 
 the ancients as subjects of consequence, and copiously 
 treated of in their writings, have now, through various 
 accidents, become either of doubtful existence, or un- 
 certain description. His attention is next directed to 
 those which are employed in manufactures and medicine, 
 or used as food in tlie countries where they are found. 
 He then describes those plants, or varieties of plants, 
 which, whether in genus or in species, are unknown. 
 His limited knowledge of botany, however, obliged him 
 to speak of these sparingly, and with hesitation. The 
 plants which he has thought worthy of a particular des- 
 cription, are the following : The papyrus, called by tlie 
 Greeks biblos ; the balcssan, balsam, or balm ; the sassa, 
 supposed by Mr Bruce to be the opocalpasum tree of 
 Galen ; the ergett, or mimosa, of which Mr Bruce has 
 described two varieties, the ergett y dimmo, and the er- 
 gett el krone ; the ensete, a herbaceous plant, which 
 constitutes the chief vegetable food of the Abyssinians ; 
 the kolquall ; the rack ; the gir-gir, or geshe el Aube, a 
 species of grass unknown to botanists till discovered by 
 Mr Bruce ; the kantuffa ; the gaguedi; the v/ansey ; the 
 farek,orbauhinia acuminata ; the kuara, called by botan- 
 ists corallodendron; the walkuffa ; the wooginos, orbrucea 
 antidysenterica, a sovereign remedy against the dysente- 
 ry ; the cusso, or bankesia Abyssinica ; the nuk, or nuge 
 from which the Abyssinians extract their vegetable oil j 
 the teff", a kind of grain, from which is made the bread 
 commonly used by the natives ; and the tocusso, a black 
 grain which grows in the borders of the Kolla, or hot 
 country, and of which a very black bread is ntade, eaten 
 only by the poor. From both the teff" and tocusso bread, 
 there is prepared a sourish liquor, called bouza, which, 
 like our small beer, is used as the common drink of the 
 country. 
 
 Eveiy tree, and every bush in Abyssinia, not only re- 
 tains its verdure, but bears blossoms and fruit in all sea- 
 sons of the year. The same part of the tree, indeed, 
 never flowers more than once in twelve months, but the 
 process of fructification advances in a very remarkable 
 manner through the whole. The blossoms first appear 
 on the western boughs, and tlie fruit proceeds, through 
 the regular stages, to maturity. The southern branches 
 next undergo a similar process ; it then crosses the tree, 
 and the north is in flower. The east succeeds last, ai»d
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 39 
 
 produces blossoms and fruit till the commencement of the 
 rains. All the trees are evergreen ; their loaves are 
 highly varnished, and of a tougli leatherlike texture, 
 which enables them to withstand the constant and vio- 
 ient rains, under wliich they arc produced. 
 
 In no country, perhaps, in the world, is there a great- 
 er variety of animals, both wild and tame, than in Abys- 
 sinia. Clothed in perpetual verdure, and most luxuriant 
 herbage, it aflbrds an ample and unfailmg provision to 
 cattle of every description. Immense rmmbers ot the 
 COOT s/iccies every where present themselves, differing 
 widely in size and appearance. Of these, some have no 
 horns, and arc distinguished likewise by the colour and 
 length of their hair,or by having bosses upon their back, 
 according to the variety of climate or pasture. Other 
 kinds have horns of various dimensions; and there is 
 one species whose horns are of such a monstrous size 
 as to be capable of containing ten quarts each. But the 
 size of the animal bears no proportion to that of his horn ; 
 on the contrary, he is not nearly so large as a common 
 English cow, and the growth of horn is a disease 
 which generally proves fatal ; as it is encouraged for a 
 particular purpose. The terrific appearance of these 
 animals has given rise to the fable of carnivorous bulls ; 
 a species of monster which exists neither in Abyssinia, 
 nor in any other part of Africa. The buffalo of this 
 country is exceedingly ferocious; he resides not in the 
 high and temperate regions, but in the stiltry valleys be- 
 low, where, as if consciou's of his superior strength, he 
 stretches himself at his ease among large spreading 
 trees, near the clearest and deepest rivers, or stagnant 
 pools of the purest water; yet in his person he is as 
 dirty and slovenly, as in his disposition he is fierce and 
 untractable. Among the wild animals are prodigious 
 numbers of the gazcl or antclofie kind ; the boliur, sassa, 
 Jic/io, and madoqua. These are to be met with only in the 
 uncultivated parts of the country, where they feed chiefly 
 on trees. They are extremely numerous in those pro- 
 vinces, which have been depopulated by war, enjoying 
 among the wild oats a quiet residence, without the fear 
 of being molested by man. i/i/.e;m.s abound in Abyssinia, 
 of which Mr Bmce supposes there are two species. 
 Those which he had seen on mount Libanus and at Alep- 
 po, exactly resembled the hyjena described by M. Buffon, 
 and seemed to partake of the nature of the hog ; while 
 those wliich infest Abyssinia are much larger, and seem 
 more allied to the canine race. The barbarous custom 
 of leaving the slaughtered carcasses of criminals unburi- 
 ed in the streets, attracts the hyxnas in multitudes to 
 the towns ; so that it is very unsafe to venture from home 
 after it is dark. The natives believe that these animals 
 are Falasha from the neighbouring mountains, who be- 
 ing transformed by magic, come to bant[uet, during the 
 night, on human flesh. Of the dog or fox khid there 
 are few varieties. The deep, or jack-nil, is the most nu- 
 merous class, and is in all respects the same as the deep 
 of Barbary and Syria. The -n'tld boar is frequently seen 
 in swamps, or on the banks of rivers covered with wood. 
 He is smaller and smoother in the hair than those of 
 Barbary and Europe, but differs from them in nothing 
 else. The low hot country is inhabited by the cle/i/iant, 
 rhinoceros, and camelo/iard ; nor do the lion, the leojiard, 
 or the panther, ever appear in the high and cultivated 
 regions. The country is every where infested by flocks 
 of afies and baboons, who destroy the fields of millet; 
 rats and inice likewise abound, and commit great devas- 
 tation on the crops. Haret are very numerous ; and, 
 
 being accounted unclean, are never Imnted but by fowls 
 and beasts of prey. All the large rivers abound with 
 crocodiles and /liji/to/iotami. 
 
 The number of birds in Abyssinia almost exceeds 
 belief. The high and low countries are equally stored 
 with them. Those of the carnivorous kind occupy the 
 rocks and mountains ; among which there are many spe- 
 cies of the eagle, -vul/ure, and liuivk. A species of kite, 
 called luuUnja, very frequent in Egypt, comes to Ethiopia 
 very punctually alter the tropical rains. Their first 
 supply of tood is aquantity of shell-fish, which have been 
 forced by the flood from the salt springs where they have 
 been noiu'ished ; and, when the rains subside, are left 
 without moisture on the edges of the deserts. The car- 
 casses of wild beasts, slain by the hunters, afford them 
 an ample store of provisions. They next prey on field- 
 rats and mice, that appear after harvest, and swarm in 
 the fissures of the ground. But their chief resource 
 is in the number of cattle slaughtered by the army on 
 march; beasts of biu'then, which die imder carriage, or 
 ill treatment ; or soldiers, who perish by disease or the 
 sword, and are left to rot in the open fields. These 
 furnish such a supply of carrion, that one would think 
 that all the carnivorous fowls in the world were collect- 
 ed round the camp. The fields are covered with them 
 on every side as far as the eye can reach, and the 
 branches of the trees are ready to break under the 
 pressure of their weight. These supplies all fail at the 
 commencement of th\e rains, when the hunters and 
 armies are forced to return home, and the vast quantity 
 of water, which inundates the coimtry, deprives them 
 of every other kind of food. 
 
 There are likewise great numbers of birds, which 
 live upon insects. The fly, which reigns, in swarms, 
 on the plains from May to September, is attended by a 
 midtitude of feathered enemies, some of which devour 
 them for food ; others seem to persecute them in re- 
 venge for the injuries which they commit against man- 
 kind, and the brute creation ; scattering myriads of them 
 on tiie ground, without heeding them more. Bees, too, 
 which abound in all parts of Abyssinia, are an unfailing 
 supply to these birds. 
 
 Nor is the granivorous tribe less numerous, or less 
 plentifully provided with food. All the trees and shiaibs 
 in Abyssinia bear flowers, seeds, and fruit, in every sea- 
 son of the year ; and, as the country is divided by a ridge 
 of mountains, which likewise divide the seasons, those 
 birds which subsist on one particular kind of food, are 
 transported, by a short migration, to the same seasons, 
 and the same food, on one side of the mountains, of 
 which a change of weather had deprived them on the 
 other. 
 
 This country has few otjIs, but those are remarkable 
 for their size and beauty. The crovjs are black-and-white 
 almost in equal proportions. The raven, w hich is of a 
 large size, has black feathers intermixed with brown, 
 his beak tipt with white, and a tuft of white feathers on 
 his head, in the figure of a cup or chalice. j\[r Bruce 
 saw neither sparrows, magpies, nor bats, during his 
 residence in Abyssinia. Water fowls, too, were rare, 
 particularly of the web-footed kind : but, during the 
 rainy season, the plains are covered with storks of var- 
 ious descriptions. The large birds which reside on the 
 mountains of Samen and Taranta, are fortified against 
 the weather by tubular feathers, the hollow part of which 
 is full of a fine dust or powder, whi'h, on grasping them, 
 issues out in such abundance as to i'-din the hand. There
 
 40 
 
 ABYSSIMA. 
 
 are no geese here, wild or tame, excepting what is cal- 
 led the i^-oldcn goose, goose of Ihe Kile, or goose of the 
 Ca/ie, which is comn^oii in every j)art of Afiica. Sniftes 
 are found in all the deep and grassy bogs, but there are 
 no woodcocks. There are, in Abyssinia, various kinds 
 of swallows unknown in Eiu-ope ; those which are com- 
 mon in Europe appear on passage, at the very season 
 when they take their flight from that continent. Pigeons 
 are very numerous, and all of them migrate but one 
 kind, which lives in the eaves of houses, or holes in the 
 wall, and which the Abyssinians account unclean, be- 
 cause it has claw's like a falcon, of which they suppose it 
 a mixture. 
 
 There is a species of eagle, to which Mr Bruce has 
 given the name oi\he golden eagle, which well deserves 
 a particular description. His Ethiopic name is nisser ; 
 and, from a tuft of hair below his beak, he is called by 
 the vulgar .ibou Duc/i'n, or father Longbeard. He is 
 one of the largest birds that fly. One which Mr Bruce 
 shot measured 8 feet 4 inches from wing to wing, and 
 from the tip of his tail to the point of his beak, upwards 
 of 4 feet and a half. His legs appeared short but strong, 
 and his thighs were extremely muscular. His middle 
 rlaw was about two inches and a half long, rather strong 
 than sharp. His bill, from the root to the point, mea- 
 sured three inches and a quarter, and at the root was an 
 inch and three quarters broad. From the cavity of his 
 lower jaw proceeded a forked bunch of strong hair; his 
 eye was remarkably small ; the crown of his head was 
 bald, as was also the front, at the junction of the bill with 
 the skull. His feathers, on being grasped, emitted a 
 great quantity of yellow powder ; and those on his back 
 produced a brov n dust of their own colour. The fea- 
 thers of his belly and breast were of a golden colour, and 
 seemed to have nothing extraordinary in their formation ; 
 but the large feathers in his shoulder and wings were 
 fine tubes, from which, upon pressijre, the powder was 
 emitted. 
 
 Besides swamis of locusts, and a species of ants, 
 which are extremely troublesome and pernicious, Abys- 
 sinia is likewise infested by a fly, called Tsaltsalya, an 
 insect more formidable than the strongest or most savage 
 wild beasts. He is very little larger than a bee, but of 
 a thicker proportion ; his wings, which are placed se- 
 parate like those of a fly, are of pure gauze, without 
 colour or spot ; his head is large, his upper jaw sharp, 
 armed at the end with a strong pointecl hair, about a 
 quarter of an inch long ; his lower jaw has two of these 
 pointed hairs ; and the three on both jaws, when joined 
 together, make a resistance to the finger, nearly equal 
 to that of a strong hog's bristle. His legs are serrated 
 in the inside, and covered with brown hair, or down. He 
 has no sting ; his motion is rapid and sudden, resembling 
 that of the gad fly. The sound which he utters is a jar- 
 ring noise, together with a humming, and seems partly 
 to proceed from a vibration of the three hairs at his 
 snout. As soon as the buzzing of this insect is heard, 
 the utmost alarm and trepidation prevails. The cattle 
 forsake their food, and run wildly about the plain, till at 
 length they fall down worn out with terror, hunger, and 
 fatigue. Fortunately this dreadful enemy is confined to 
 the black loamy soil, and the sands of Atbara afford a 
 safe retreat from his pursuit. Even the thick skin of 
 the camel gives no security against his attacks. His 
 body, head, and legs, penetrated by the proboscis of this 
 fly, swell into large bosses, which break and putrefy, to his 
 certain destruction. The elephant and rhinoceros, too, 
 
 whose enormous bulk, and habits of life, prevent IhcJH 
 from removing to dry and desert places, are obliged to 
 roll themselves in the mire, which, when dry, cases 
 them as it were in armour, and enables them to withstand 
 this winged assassin. Small and inconsiderable as he 
 appear., the Tsaltsalya seems to have given law to the 
 first settlement in the country. He absolutely debarred 
 the inhabitants of the rich black soil from enjoying the 
 assistance of any beasts of labour, and deprived them of 
 the flesh and milk of cattle for food. Another nation 
 was thus introduced, who led a wandering life, and pre- 
 served their herds and flocks by driving them to the sands 
 of Atbara, till the disappearance of this insect enabled 
 them to bring them back. 
 
 Mr Bruce, in opposition to almost every account tliat 
 has been published of Abyssinia, maintains, that there 
 are few serpents in that country. In Upper Abyssinia 
 he saw none of any kind, and no remarkable varieties 
 even in the low countiy, excepting the large snake call- 
 ed boa, which is often above twenty feet in length, and 
 as thick as an ordinary man's thigh. His chief residence 
 is by the grassy stagnant pools of rivers. He is an ani- 
 mal of prey, and feeds upon antelopes and deer, which, 
 as he has no canine teeth, he swallows in whole pieces, 
 after having broken the bones, and drawn them out into 
 a length to be more easily managed. There is likewise 
 a species of horned viper called cerastes, which is gene- 
 rally about 13 or 14 inches long. It has sixteen small 
 immoveable teeth, and in the upper jaw two canine teeth, 
 hollow, crooked, and finely polished. Its poison, con- 
 sidering its size, is very copious, and is contained in a 
 bag under its canine teeth ; when these are taken out, an 
 operation very easily performed, the viper bites without 
 any fatal consequence. Its horns are about three-twelfths 
 of an inch long, and its body, where thickest, about ten- 
 twelfths. It moves with great rapidity, and in all direc- 
 tions. When inclined to surprise any person who is too 
 far from it, it creeps with its side towards him, and its 
 head averted, till, judging its distance, it turns round, 
 and springs on him. 
 
 Mr Bruce vouches, from his own observation, for the 
 reality of the incantation of serpents. At Cairo he saw 
 a man take a cerastes, with his naked hand, from a num- 
 ber of others at the bottom of a tub, put it in his breast, 
 twist* it about his neck, and last of all eat it with as little 
 repugnance as if it had been a stock of celery. All the 
 black people of Sennaar are perfectly armed against the 
 biteof either scorpion or viper. They take them with- 
 out scruple in their hands, and toss them to one another 
 like balls, without irritating them so much as to bite. 
 The creature, however lively before, when seized by one 
 of these barbarians, always appeared languid and feeble, 
 frequently shut his eyes, and never turned his mouth 
 towards the arm of the person that held him ; yet, when 
 a chicken was made to flutter before him, his seeming 
 indifference left him ; he bit it with great signs of rage, 
 and the chicken died almost instantly. These people 
 pretend to possess a natural exemption from the noxious 
 power of serpents ; and, by certain medicines, can com- 
 municate this exemption to others. The Arabs acquire 
 it from their infancy, by chewing a certain root, and 
 washing themselves with an infusion of certain plants in 
 water. Though the drugs were given to Mr Bruce, and 
 he several times fortified himself for the experiment} 
 his resolution always failed him at the moment of trial. 
 
 So much for the natural history of Abyssinia, which 
 we have detailed tJie more minutely, because the facts
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 41 
 
 which it prcsejUs, vhilc they are not uninteresting to 
 the general reader, are cah-,ulated to give the naturalist 
 the most correct idea of tlie peculiarities of climate and 
 country. 
 
 If the external features of this extensive resjion are 
 singular and striking — the character and manners of its 
 inhabitants are still more so. The picture is indeed 
 mortifying and disgusting ; for of all the people in the 
 world, the Abyssinians are ])erliaps the most barbarous 
 and depraved. The thirst of revenge, inflamed by per- 
 petual hostilities, and by personal and national injuries, 
 has frequently impelled the savage to torture and devour 
 the body of his captive enemy. We sicken with horror 
 at the recital, and cannot easily be reconciled to the 
 idea, that we partake of the same nature witli the mon- 
 strous cannibal. But what shall we think of a people, 
 who, without the irritation of war, or the animosity of 
 revenge, seem habitually to delight in cruelties scarce 
 less enormous, and whose daily banquets arc disgraced 
 by the protracted torture of the vmhappy animal, which 
 is destined to be the victim of their unnatural luxury ? 
 
 Mr Bruce, who was frequently compelled to be pre- 
 sent at these horrid festivals, has given a very lively 
 description of one of them, which we shall transcribe 
 in his own words. " A long table is set in the middle of 
 a large room, and benches beside it for a number of 
 guests who are invited. A cow or bull, one or more, as 
 the comp?.ny is numerous, is brought close to the door, 
 and his feet strongly tied. The skin that hangs down 
 under his chin and throat, which I think wc call the 
 dewlap in England, is cut only so deep as to arrive at 
 the fat, of which it totally consists, and by the separation 
 of a few small blood vessels, six or seven drops of blood 
 only fall to the ground. They have no stone, bench, nor 
 altar, upon which these cruel assassins lay the animal's 
 liead in this operation. I should beg his pardon indeed 
 i'or calling him an assassin, as he is not so merciful as to 
 aim at the life, but on the contrary, to keep the beast 
 alive till he be totally eaten up. Having satisfied the 
 IVIosaical law, according to his conception, by pouring 
 these six or seven drops upon the ground, two or more 
 of them fall to work ; on the back of the beast, and on 
 each side of the spine, they cut skin deep ; then putting 
 their fingers between the flesh and the skin, they begin 
 to strip the hide of the animal half way down his ribs, 
 and so on to the buttock, cutting the skin wherever it 
 hinders them commodiously to strip the poor animal 
 bare. All the flesh on the buttocks is cut off then, and 
 in solid square pieces without bones, or much effusion 
 of blood ; and the prodigious noise the animal makes, is 
 a signal for the company to sit down to table. 
 
 " There are then laid before every guest, instead of 
 plates, round cakes, if I may so call them, about twice as 
 big as a pancake, and something thicker and tougher. 
 It is unleavened bread, of a sourish taste, far from be- 
 ing disagreeable, and very easily digested, ma(Je of a 
 grain called teff. It is of different colours, from black 
 to the colour of the whitest wheat-bread. Three or 
 four of these cakes are generally put uppermost, for the 
 food of the person opposite to whose seat they are pla- 
 ced. Beneath these are four or five of ordinary bread, 
 and of a blackish kind. These serve the master to wipe 
 his fingers upon, and afterwards the servant, for bread 
 to his dinner. Two or three servants then come, each 
 with a square piece of beef in his bare hands, laying it 
 upon the cakes of teff, placed like dishes down the table, 
 without cloth or any thing else beneath them. Bv this 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 time all the guests have kniics m their hands, and their 
 men have the large crooked ones, which they put to all 
 sorts of uses during the lime of war. The women have 
 small clasped knives, such as the worst of the kind made 
 at Birmingham, sold for a penny each. The company 
 arc so ranged, that one man sits between two women ; 
 the man, with his long knife, cuts a thin piece, which 
 would be thouglit a good bcaf-steak in England, while 
 you see the motion of the fibres yet perfectly distinct, 
 and alive in the flesh. 
 
 " No man in Abyssinia, of any fashion whatever, feeds 
 himself, or touches his own moat. The women take 
 the steak, and cut it lengthways, like strings, about the 
 thickness of your little finger, then crossways into 
 square pieces, something smaller than dice. This they 
 lay upon a piece of the teft" bread, strongly powdered 
 with black or Cayenne pepper, and fossil salt ; they then 
 wrap it up in the tefl' bread like a cartridge. In the 
 meantime, the man, having put up his knife, with each 
 hand resting on his neighbour's knee, his body stooping, 
 his head low and forward, and his mouth open, very like 
 an idiot, turns to her whose cartridge is first ready, who 
 stuffs the whole of it into his mouth, which is so full, that 
 he is in constant danger of being choked. This is a 
 mark of grandeur. The greater a man would seem to 
 be, the larger piece he takes in his mouth ; and the more 
 noise he makes in chewing it, the more polite he is 
 thought to be. They have, indeed, a proverb, that says, 
 " Beggars and thieves only cat small pieces, or without 
 making a noise." Having despatched this morsel, which 
 he does very expeditiously, his next female neighbour 
 holds forth another cartridge, which goes the same way, 
 and so on till he is satisfied. He never drinks till he has 
 finished eating ; and before he begins, in gratitude to the 
 fair ones that fed him, he makes up two small rolls of the 
 same kind and form ; each of his neighbours open their 
 mouths at the same time, while, with each hand, he puts 
 their portion into their mouths. He then falls to drink- 
 ing, out of a large handsome horn ; the ladies eat till they 
 are satisfied, and then all drink together. A great deal 
 of mirth and joke goes rovmd, very seldom with any 
 mixture of acrimony or ill humour. 
 
 " All this time the unfortunate victim at the door is 
 bleeding indeed, but bleeding little. As long as they 
 can cut off the flesh from his bones, they do not meddle 
 with the thighs or the parts where the great arteries arc. 
 At last they fall upon the thighs likewise ; and soon after, 
 the animal, bleeding to death, becomes so tough, that the 
 cannibals who have the rest of it to eat, find very hard 
 work to separate the flesh from the bones with their 
 teeth like dogs." 
 
 This inhuman joractice is so repugnant to the manners 
 and sentiments of Europeans, that some have been in- 
 duced to regard it as altogether absurd and impossible. 
 But, not to mention the temerity and the injustice of 
 rejecting an account of distant nations, because it hap- 
 pens not to coincide with our own customs, or precon- 
 ceived opinions, — Mr Bruce's narrative is confinned by 
 the testimony of other travellers, and, in a certam de- 
 gree, by the practice of other countries. Lobo assures 
 us, that the Galla eat raw meat, and notliing else, a cus- 
 tom which seems to have prevailed pretty generally in 
 the south of Africa. Speaking of the Abyssinians, he 
 aflirms, "that their greatest treat is a piece of i-aw beef, 
 Qtiite warm. When they give a feast, they kill an ox, 
 and immediately serve up a quarter of it on the table, 
 with much pepper and salt ; and the gall of the ox serves
 
 42 
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 them for oil und vinegar." To cuttlic atiimal in pieces 
 while alive, is an easy and natural refinement on tliis 
 liarbarous practice ; and accordingly Abram, an Abys- 
 sinian, told sir William Jones, that the coimtry people 
 and soldiery made no scruple of drinking the blood, and 
 eating the raw llesh of an ox, not caring whether they 
 cut it when dead or alive. 
 
 A people of such unexampled cruelty towards brute 
 animals, cannot be expected to pay much regard to the 
 sufierings of their fellow creatures. InureU from then- 
 infancy to blood, murder seems almost their pastime. 
 Even children, when provoked, are prevented only by tlie 
 want of strength from imbruing their impotent iiands in 
 the blood of a playfellow, or a brother. Their sanguinary 
 laws are but a weak restraint against these violent pas- 
 sions, when seconded by greater strength and address ; 
 and the punishments annexed to the laws themselves, 
 exhibit the most striking example of the national cru- 
 elty. One of these punishments is flaying alive ; and 
 even Ozoro Esther, the heroine of Mr Bruce's narra- 
 tive, smiled with savage complacency when presented 
 witli the skin of an enemy. Criminals arc frequently 
 hewn in pieces with a sabre ; nor is this performed by 
 common executioners, whose office, in evei-y civilized 
 countiy, is held infamous and detestable, but by people of 
 quality, and officers of rank. So little, indeed, is thought 
 of these executions, that Mr Bruce, happening one day 
 to pass by an officer who had three men to despatch in 
 this manner, was coolly requested by him to stop till 
 he had cut Uiem all to pieces, as he wished to converse 
 with him upon an affair of consequence. Stoning to 
 death is another capital punishment frequent in Abys- 
 sinia; inflicted generally on Franks and Roman Catho- 
 lics, when they happen to be found, and on other here- 
 tics in religion. 
 
 To say that these savages are perfidious and false in 
 the extreme, is only to delineate a natural feature of 
 their hideous character ; for, where the laws of huma- 
 nity are habitually outraged, the restraints of morality, 
 or of houotir, will be unknown or disregarded. So 
 completely is the moral sense of the Abyssinians per- 
 vei-tcd, that they prefer deceit to honesty, and falsehood 
 to truth, when their interest seems in noways concerned 
 in the preference. Even those regulations, which seem 
 essential to the very existence of society, are but little 
 respected by those rude barbarians. Marriage is here a 
 very slender tie, formed and dissolved at pleasure ; and 
 chastity is a virtue which they hold in very low esteem. 
 Their marriages are celebrated in the church, to be 
 sure, with great solemnity, and the parties bind them- 
 selves, by an oath, to continue faithful to each other for 
 life. They make no scruple, however, of breaking these 
 engagements, whenever they find it inconvenient or 
 unpleasant to live longer together ; and their divorces 
 and marriages are accordingly vei-y frequent. Mr Bruce 
 tells us, that he was once at Koscam, in presence of the 
 Itcghe (or queen-dowager), when in the circle there 
 was a woman of great quality, and seven men, who 
 had all been her husbands, though none of them was 
 then the happy spouse. If the husband first wishes to 
 be released from his engagement, he, or his surety, 
 must restore the portion which the lady brought him, 
 ind pay her likewise the sum stipulated in case of se- 
 
 paration. If it be the lady who desires to recover Ircr 
 liberty, the husband is liable to no restitut.on, provided 
 he has been faithful, according to a contract, hi the dis- 
 cliargc of his conjugal duties. Sometimes, without any 
 quarrel or ill-will, a separation is agreed on by mutual 
 consent. In this case, the portion of the wife is united 
 with the sum stipulated by the husband, of which Incy 
 receive each an equal share. If they liave any progeny, 
 the boys always go with the mother, even though there 
 be only une child ; if there be no sons, she claims none 
 of the girls. Among the lower ranks, marriages are 
 contracted with less ceremony, and are still more easily 
 dissolved ; but the king's judges, or governors of pro- 
 vinces, take care, that the children shall be maintained 
 either by their parents, or by some other person. Where 
 the nuptial umon is held so little sacred, jealousy cannot 
 be supposed to prevail ; and the distinction of legitimate 
 and illegitimate offspring is unknown. 
 
 Such is a faint outline of the Abyssinian character ; 
 and, hideous and disgusting as it is, it is the character 
 of a people professing Christianity, who have the scrip- 
 tures translated into their own language, and whose 
 countiy is filled with churches innumerable ! But let 
 not the infidel triumph in the concession. The Chris- 
 tianity of the Abyssinians is a mere systein of parade, 
 extending little further than the acknowledgment of 
 saints, and the observance of festivals ; nor can it be 
 wondered, if the pure and humanizing morality of the 
 gospel has produced little improvement on the charac- 
 ter of a people, who place the essentials of religion in 
 external pageantiy, and think the most flagrant crimes 
 sufficiently expiated by the erection of a sanctuary, or 
 the utterance of a prayer. Yet the brut il manners of 
 the Abyssinians might certainly be laid to the charge of 
 Christianity with as much justice, as those enormities, 
 which, during the dark ages, were perpetrated in its 
 name, and which the candour of modem philosophers 
 has endeavoured to construe into objections against the 
 benign tendency of the Christian religion. 
 
 A more probable cause of their barbarity might be 
 foulid in the degrading influence of their government. 
 It is an anomalous kind of monarchy : the will of the 
 sovereign is the only law; his power over the lives and 
 property of his subjects is uncontrolled ; but, at the 
 same time, is unsupported by such a militaiy force as is 
 necessary to give effect and consistency to its opera- 
 tions. The militia of the several districts is entirely at 
 the disposal of their respective governors, whose gene- 
 ral safety depends on the weakness and necessities of 
 the prince. Any of these governors is more than a 
 match for his sovereign : indeed, the government of 
 Tigre alone is equal to all the rest of the empire. 
 Though the sovereignty be so far hereditaiy, that it is 
 confined to one family, in that family it is elective : and 
 as the ruling minister, in the name of the people, deter- 
 mines the election, it generally falls on an infant, during 
 whose minority the minister continues to exercise all the 
 prerogatives of the crown. Hence rebellions and civil 
 wars perpetually agitate this disjointed government ; 
 and the citizens, engaged in unceasing hostilities with 
 each other, contract, of course, that savage ferocitv', by 
 which they are so infamously distinguished.* While 
 the right of succession to the throne was tliti'S undefined, 
 
 • Tlip devnstalions committed by the Abyssinian armies are dreadful beyond description. " An army," says Mr Bruce, " leaves no- 
 tliing living behind, not even the vestige of s, habitation ; but iirc and the sword redaee every thing to r wilderness and solitude. The
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 43 
 
 the elected monaicli woukl necessarily incur the hatred 
 and resentment of the other branches of llie royal fLUiiily. 
 To prevent the feuds which would result from their 
 mutual animosity, the Abyssinians had recourse to the 
 expedient of confining the prhices of the lilood to a kind 
 of state prison, situated on some lofty and solitary moun- 
 tain, wlicrc they were educated in a total ignorance of 
 political transactions ; and, when the throne happened to 
 be vacant, the nobles, or rather the prime minister, se- 
 lected from these captives the person, who appeared 
 best qualified, by his simplicity or pliability, for being 
 their future king. The weakness of the royal family, 
 and the preponderating power of the governors, have 
 rendered these precautions unnecessary, but the practice 
 has not yet been abandoned. 
 
 In the better days of this kingdom, the royal office 
 was intrenched with all that splendour and ceremony 
 by which despotical governments are distinguished ; and 
 which, by keeping the subject at an awful distance, ex- 
 cite for the person of his sovereign a degree of venera- 
 tion approaching to worship. The monarch was invested 
 in a manner at once solemn and romantic. Dressed in 
 crimson damask, with a chain of gold about his neck, and 
 his head uncovered, he mounted a horse, richly capari- 
 soned, and advanced, at the head of his nobility, to the 
 paved area before the church. A number of young girls, 
 daughters of the Ambares, or supreme judges, with 
 many other noble virgins, ranged themselves on each 
 side of the court. Two of the noblest held in their hands 
 a cord of crimson silk, stretched across from row to row, 
 and drawn tight about breast high. The king then en- 
 tered at a moderate pace, displaying his skill in horse- 
 manship as he went along. When he advanced to the 
 cord, the damsels cried out, "Who are you!" He an- 
 swered, " I am your king, the king of Ethiopia." " You 
 shall not pass," they replied, "You are not our king." 
 Retiring a few paces, he again presented himself, and 
 the question was repeated as before. "lam your king," 
 was his second reply, " the king of Israel." But this 
 answer likewise was rejected. Returning a third time, 
 and being asked again, " Who are you ?" " 1 am your 
 king," he exclaimed, " the king of Sion," and, unsheath- 
 ing his sabre, cut asunder the cord. The virgins 
 chaunted hallelviiahs, and the air nmg with the accla- 
 mations of the anny and the royal attendants. Amidst 
 these expressions of joy, he rode up to the stair of the 
 church, and there dismounting, sat down upon a stone, 
 resembling an altar of Anubis, or the Dog-star. A num- 
 ber of priests followed in procession. The king was 
 first anointed, and then crowned. Singing priests at- 
 tended him half-way up the steps; he then stopped a.t 
 an aperture, made on purpose in the stair, where he was 
 fumigated with myrrh, aloes, and cassia. Divine ser- 
 vice was celebrated, and, on his return to the camp, 
 fourteen days were spent in feasting and rejoicing. See 
 Psalm xxiii, "! — 10. 
 
 Their coronations are nowconducted with less magni- 
 ficence ; and many of their ancient ceremonies have 
 fallen into disuse. Enough still remain, however, to 
 give splendour and dignity to the government ; and a 
 striking resemblance may be traced between many of 
 the customs which still prevail in Abyssinia, and the 
 
 pompous usages of the Persian court. The king of 
 Abyssinia, like the Persian monarchs of old, is saluted 
 with the title of " King of kings." Subjects, in botli 
 countries, approach the royal person, with the external 
 signs of adoration, prostrating themselves before him, 
 and continuing in that postuie till ordered to rise. As 
 nothing preserves, or heightens the veneration for ma- 
 jesty so much as distance and reserve, neither the Abys- 
 sinian nor Persian monarch ever exposes himself to the 
 view of his subjects. When the king of Abyssinia either 
 rides abroad, or gives audience in his palace, his head 
 and forehead are perfectly covered ; and one of his hands 
 is placed on his mouth, so that only his eyes are seen. 
 This total seclusion from the public, though m one re- 
 spect advantageous, was attended with many inconve- 
 niencies ; to remedy which, two officers were appointed 
 in Persia, who were called the King's-Eyes and the 
 King's-Ear, and who were intrusted with the dangerous 
 charge of seeing and hearing for their sovereign. The 
 Abyssinian monarch holds communication with his sub- 
 jects by means of an officer named Kal-Hatze, the voice, 
 or word of the king. When sitting in council, or in 
 judgment, he is enclosed in a kind of balcony, with 
 lattice windows and curtains before him. In cases of 
 treason, he speaks through a hole in the side of his bal- 
 cony to the Kal-Hatze, who conveys his questions or 
 remarks to the judges, who are seated at the council- 
 table. When consulting on civil affairs, the counsellors 
 are seated at the table : and the king, though himself 
 unseen, has a distinct view of them all. They deliver 
 their sentiments, according to their age or rank ; the 
 youngest, or lowest officer, always speaking first. After 
 they have concluded their dclilicrations, the whole as- 
 sembly rise, and the Kal-Hatze pronounces the royal 
 decree. Though the original object of these delibera- 
 tions must have been to decide on any measure accord- 
 ing to the sense of the majority, yet no majority can pre- 
 vail against the prerogative of the king : nay, even a 
 majority have frequently been punished by imprison- 
 ment, when their sentiments happened to differ from 
 those of his majesty. In Abyssinia, however, the an- 
 cient custom of the monarch's concealing himself from 
 public view, is now less strictly observed. The constant 
 wars in which this country has been engaged, since Adel 
 was occupied by the Mahometans, have often compelled 
 the sovereign to expose his person in the field ; and on 
 many occasions, the army, and the kingdom at large, 
 have been indebted for safety and victory to the skill and 
 gallantry of their prince. In the time of war, he is at- 
 tended by an officer, named Lika Magwass, who rides 
 constantly round him, carrying his shield and his lance ; 
 and such was the respect once paid to him, not only by 
 foreign enemies, but even by his own subjects in rebel- 
 lion, that, before the arrival of the Europeans, no king 
 of Abyssinia ever fell in battle. At that period, the 
 practice, both of excommunicating and murdering their 
 sovereigns, seems to have been first introduced. Even 
 yet, however, the respect for the royal person is, in some 
 degree, retained ; and, in the day of battle, he is often 
 arrayed in his insignia, lest, being unknown, he should 
 perish by the sword of his enemies. 
 
 Those who wish to complain of grievances, assemble, 
 
 beasts and bh'ds unmolested have the country to themselves, and increase beyond all possible conception." The number of unburied 
 carcasses would be sufficient to occasion contagious distemper-s, did not these voracious animals consume them before putrefaction. The 
 carrion fowls, which follow an armj while in motion, form a black canopy, extending over it for leagues. When it encamps, the ground 
 and trees are covered with them beyond die reach of sight. 
 
 F 2
 
 -14 
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 at break of day, bcTorc Uie doors ;iiid windows of the 
 palace, and continue tlicrc till night, crying for justice 
 in aloud and querulous tone, and in all the difl'crtnt lan- 
 guages which they can speak. It may well be supposed, 
 that in a country so ill governed as Abyssinia, involved 
 too in perpetual wars, there will be multitudes of suffer- 
 ers, who have to complain of real injuries ai.d violence. 
 What was at first only an unhappy consequence of a bad 
 government, has now grown into an established form ; 
 insomuch, that when the rains prevent the really dis- 
 tressed from approaching the capital, or standijig in the 
 streets, a set of vagrants are provided and maintained, 
 whose business it is to imitate the various tones of sor- 
 row and of pain ; and this, they say, is for the king's 
 honour, that he may not be lonely from the quietness of 
 the palace. The burden of these complaints, whether 
 real or feigned, is always, Rcte O jan hai ; Do me jus- 
 tice, O my king. When quickly repeated, it very much 
 resembles Prete Janni, (of which Prisier John is a cor- 
 ruption,) tlie name that was given to this prince, and 
 the derivation of which has not yet been ascertained. 
 
 As if the clamour of these complainants were insuf- 
 ficient to rouse his majesty from his morning slumbers, 
 he has an officer, called Serach IVIassery, who, with a 
 long wfiip, begins cracking and making a noise at the 
 door of the palace before the dawn of day. This fright- 
 ens away tlie hyaena and other wild beasts, and serves 
 likewise as a signal for the king to arise ; for he sits in 
 judgment every morning till eight o'clock, his hour of 
 breakfast. He has likewise six noblemen of his own 
 election, who are called Baalomaal, (masters of his 
 effects,) and whose ofRce corresponds to tliat of gentle- 
 men of the bed-chamber ; four of these always attend 
 him. There is a seventh, who is their president, called 
 AzelefTa el Camisha, groom of the robe or stole. He is 
 keeper of tlie king's wardrobe, and first officer of the 
 bed-chamber. These officers, with the black slaves, and 
 some others, wait upon the king as menial servants ; and 
 enjoy a degree of familiarity with him, to which no otlier 
 subject is admitted. There are many other officers in 
 the king's retinue ; but to enumerate them, would only 
 incumber our pages with uncouth and^barbarous names, 
 without conveying any precise idea of the offices which 
 they denote. The Kasmati of Tigre is the most power- 
 ful of the governors ; and the office of Ras is the highest 
 dignity to which a subject can attain. 
 
 As the use of money is unknown in Abyssinia, the 
 revenue is paid in bullion gold, and the rude products 
 of the various provinces. Agowmidre pays the king 
 annually about 1000 ounces of gold, 1000 dabras of ho- 
 ney, and 1000 or 1500 cattle ; Damot pays 800 ounces of 
 gold; Gojam 80 ounces, and 70 mules; Lasta 1000 
 ounces ; Tigve pays to the amount of 400 ounces in salt 
 and cotton cloths; Walkait 1300 ounces in cotton 
 doth. 
 
 The want of money is supplied by fossil salt, which, 
 being divided into square pieces about a foot long, is the 
 only medium of traffic used in this country. The value 
 of commodities is sometimes estimated likewise by cot- 
 ton cloths ; thus they say, that an article is worth so 
 many webs or cloths of cotton. Various coins, indeed, 
 are current at Masuah, which, being the very entrance 
 of Abyssinia, is a place of considerable trade. These 
 coins have been introduced by the commercial inter- 
 course of this island with the opposite coast of Arabia. 
 Their names, and relative value, may be learned from 
 the following tabic : 
 
 Venetian sequin 
 Pataka, or imperial 
 
 dollar 
 
 1 harf 
 10 kibccr 
 
 1 kibeer 
 
 \ ' 
 
 4 
 
 patuka. 
 28 harf. 
 
 4 diwani. 
 1 diwani. 
 3 borjooke, or graine. 
 
 The borjooke are small glass beads of all kinds and • 
 colour, which, whether broken or entire, pass lor 
 small money ; the harf is equal to 120 grains of these 
 beads. 
 
 The wakea, or Abyssinian ounce, is equivalent to 10 
 derims or drams, and 12 ounces make a litir, or rotol, 
 which may therefore be called the Abyssinian pound. 
 At Gondar, the capital, a wakea is equal to 6 drams 40 
 grains Troy weight, and is divided into 10 di'ams of 40 
 grains each. The ordinary value of a wakea is from 72 
 to 76 of the salt bricks already mentioned. In 1769 the 
 wakea was sold at 80 salts, and in 1770 at 34; but the 
 bricks diflfered considerably in size. 
 
 The grain measure used in Abyssinia is the ardeb, 
 which contains 10 measures called madega, each equal 
 to 12 ounces Cairo weight. An ardeb of grain costs 2 
 derims or 2 patakas ; an ardeb of teff" the same ; 6 or 8 
 ardeb of tocusso are equivalent to an ounce, or 10 
 derims, of gold. 
 
 Comparing the natural advantages of this country 
 with the ancient date of its empire, we might reasona- 
 bly expect to find it possessed of extensive commerce, 
 and of all those arts and manufactures which commerce 
 leads in its train. Yet such has been the paralyzing in- 
 fluence of its government, that its commerce is limited 
 by the shores of the Arabian Gulf, its manufactures are 
 contemptible, and the useful and elegant arts are here 
 almost totally unknown. The use of the plant merjom- 
 bey, a species of solanum, and of the juice of the kol- 
 quall tree, enables them to tan hides in great perfection. 
 Coarse cotton cloth is the staple manufacture of the 
 country ; but so completely are they ignorant of the art 
 of dyeing, though possessed of all the necessary mate- 
 rials, that yellow, produced from the plant suf, is the 
 only colour which they have. To procure a blue border 
 for their cotton cloths, they unravel the threads of the 
 blue cloth of Surat, and then weave them again into their 
 own webs. Their earthen ware is tolerable ; but though 
 Cosmo de Medici, among other artisans, sent manufac- 
 turers of glass to the king, ther were unable to impart to 
 the rude inhabitants the knowledge of these valuable 
 arts. 
 
 Nor has their progress in architecture been at jdl more 
 considerable. Their houses are very mean, constructed 
 chiefly of clay, and thatched in the form of cones. The 
 salubrity of elevated situations, and the inconveniences 
 attending the inundation of the rivers during the rains, 
 have induced them to build many of their towns and vil- 
 lages on tlie mountains. The houses are separated by 
 hedges of unfading verdure, which, being intermixed at 
 regular intervals witli fruit-trees and flowers, at once 
 give beauty to the scene, and salubrity to the air. 
 
 Gondar, the present metropolis, stands on the summit 
 of a mountain of considerable height. In times of peace, 
 it contains about ten thousand families ; and, as the 
 houses consist of only one story, it must occupy a prodi- 
 gious extent of ground. At the west end of the town 
 stands the royal palace, formerly a structure of consi- 
 derable consequence. It was a square building, four 
 Stories high, flanked with square towers, and commanded
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 45 
 
 ifonithe top a magnificent view of all the country south- 
 ward to the lake of Tzana. It was built by masons Irom 
 India, in the reign of Facilidas, about the middle of the 
 seventeenth century ; and by sueh Abyssinians as had 
 been instructed in architecture by the Jesuits, without 
 adopting their creed, and continued in the country after 
 the expulsion of the Portuguese. Great part of it is now 
 in ruins, having at different times been burnt ; and suc- 
 cessive princes have added to it apartments built of 
 clay, after the fashion of the country. The palace, and 
 all the buildings connected with it, are surrounded by a 
 substantial stone wall, about thirty feet high, the four 
 sides of which are about an English mile and a half in 
 length. 
 
 Kosco.m, the palace of the Iteghe, is situated on the 
 south side of the Debra Tzai, or Mountain of the Sun. 
 It consists of a square tower of three stories, with a 
 flat parapet roof or terrace, and battlements around it. 
 It is encompassed by a high outer wall, above a mile in 
 circumference. Within tliis enclosure, there is a church 
 built, says Mr Bruce, by the present Iteghe, and account- 
 ed the richest in Abyssmia. The large crosses carried in 
 procession are of gold, and their kettle drums of silver. 
 Plates of gold, likewise, cover the altar, all the gifts of 
 the munificent patroness. Behind the palace, and farther 
 up the hill, arc the houses of people of quality, chiefly 
 relations of the Iteghe herself. 
 
 Axitm, once the capital of Abyssinia, is distinguished 
 by extensive ruins. In one square, apparently the cen- 
 tre of the town, there are forty obelisks of granite ; none 
 of which, however, have any hieroglyphics. Of those 
 which are still standing, there is one larger than the 
 rest; but two have fallen which appear the largest of 
 all. On the top of that which is standing, there is a pa- 
 tera, in the Grecian taste, exceedingly well carved ; be- 
 low, there is the figvu'e of a door-bolt and lock, as if to 
 represent an entrance through the obelisk into some 
 building behind. Upon the face of the obelisk, there is 
 a great deal of carving in a Gothic taste, like metopes, 
 triglyphs, and guttae, disposed rudely, and without or- 
 der. Towards the south, there is a road cut in a moun- 
 tain of red marble, having on the left a parapet wall, 
 about five feet high, solid, and of the same materials. 
 In this wall, there are hewn, at equal distances, solid 
 pedestals, which still retain the marks of the colossal 
 statues of Syrius, the Latrator Anubis, or Dog-star. 
 One hundred and thirty-three of these pedestals are 
 still in their places ; but only two figures of the Dog 
 remain, much mutilated, and in a taste plainly Egyptian. 
 Of a superb temple, which once graced this capital, the 
 only remains are two magnificent flights of steps, com- 
 posed of granite, several hundred feet long, and still in 
 their original position. Below these steps, there are 
 three small square enclosures, in the middle of one of 
 ■which is the stt)ne, upon which the king sits when he is 
 crowned ; and below it, where he naturally places his 
 feet, there is a large oblong slab of freestone, bearing an 
 inscription, which, though much defaced, Mr Bruce has 
 ventured to restore. It is 
 
 HTOAEMAIOY EYEPTETOT 
 BASIAEnS. 
 
 The foundation, rise, and desertion of this city, is one 
 of the obscurest parts of Abyssinian history. Its ruins, 
 however, sufficiently prove it to have been the work of 
 Egyptian artists, and it was probably founded by one of 
 the Ptolemies, There are few other towns in Abyssinia, 
 
 nor arc these of any importance. The only buildings cf 
 consequence, which ii contains, arc the works of fo- 
 reigners ; nor have these specimens of architecture in 
 any degree improved the tasle or skill of the inha- 
 bitants. 
 
 The Abyssinians, like the ancient Egyptians, compute 
 time by the solar year. Their month consists of 50 clays, 
 and, to complete the year, they add five days and a quar- 
 ter to the month of August, which they call Nahasse. 
 Every fourth year they add a sixth day. With them, as 
 with all the Eastern nations, the year begins on the 29th 
 or 30th day of August, that being the first of their 
 month Mascaram. It is uncertain whence the names of 
 their months have been derived: they have no signifi- 
 cation in any of the languages of the country. Their 
 common epoch is from the creation of the world, which 
 they date 5500 years before the birth of Christ, reject- 
 ing the calculation of the Greeks, who make that period 
 consist of 5308 years. They make use, likewise, of 
 many other epochs, such as from the covmcils of Nice 
 and Ephcsus. In all their ecclesiastical computations, 
 they invariably employ the golden number and epact. 
 The use of the epact, according to Scaliger, was first 
 adopted by the Abyssinians in the time of Dioclesian. 
 But this opinion is at variance with the positive evi- 
 dence of Abyssinian history, which ascribes the inven- 
 tion of the epact to Demetrius, patriarch of Alexandria, 
 who was elected in the reign of the emperor Severus, 
 long before the time of Dioclesian. The Abyssinians 
 have another method of computing time peculiar to 
 themselves. They describe their years by the names 
 of the four Evangelists, and will tell you, that an event 
 happened in the days of Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John. 
 They mark out the different periods of the day in a very 
 arbitrary and irregular manner. The first period, called 
 Nagge comprehends the short and scarcely perceptible 
 morning twilight. Mesct, the evening twilight, denotes 
 the instant between the sun's decline and the appearing 
 of the stars. Mid-day is called Kater, a very ancient 
 word, which signifies culmination ; and any other part 
 of the day is expressed by pointing at that place in the 
 heavens where the sun was at the time of which they 
 speak. 
 
 The natives arc, in general, of a dark olive complexion, 
 and, from a just antipathy against the sanguinary and 
 fanatical Jesuits, they detest the resemblance of a white 
 complexion ; insomuch that they even show aversion to 
 white grapes. The principal part of their dress is a 
 large cotton cloth, with a blue and yellow border, which 
 they wrap round them in a particular manner, and bind 
 with a sash. Besides these robes, which are light and 
 beautiful, they wear a kind of breeches reaching to the 
 middle of their thigh, and girt with a belt of white cloth; 
 those of the higher ranks are made of red Indian cotton 
 cloth, with girdles of silk or wo'"stcd brought from the 
 Levant. Their head-dress is a kind of turban. 
 
 On this subject, Mr Bruce has given a curious disser- 
 tation, intended to prove, that the Ethiopian language 
 was the original language of mankind ; and that its al- 
 phabet was composed of the first written characters 
 that had ever been invented. But his theory, though 
 ingenious, will not stand the test of sober investigation. 
 The language of Abyssinia is an ancient offspring of the 
 Arabic ; for it will appear in the sequel, that Ethiopia 
 was peopled by a colony from the Arabian peninsula. 
 It is divided into various dialects, the principal of which 
 arc the Tigvin. or that of Tigrc, and the Amharic, which
 
 46 
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 is now the prcvailinc; language of this empire. With 
 regard to the characters, we arc inlornied by Mr Mur- 
 ray, the ingenious editor of Brute's Travels, that "they 
 arc nothing else but the Coptic forms of the Greek al- 
 phabet, modelled on the plan of tlie Arabic, deranged 
 from their former order, and made rude by the hands 
 of barbarous scribes. The change made in the Arabic 
 alphabet by Ibn Mocla, is well known ; but it expresses 
 none of the vowels. Long before that time, the mis- 
 sionaries, who first wrote the Geez, took the Greek al- 
 phabet from Egypt ; but finding that the language was 
 more related to the Arabic and Hebrew than the Greek, 
 they still retained such of those letters as were common, 
 with which they expressed the Geez words in the Ara- 
 bic or Hebrew manner." The Abyssinian language has 
 been illustrated bylhe labours of Ludolf, and other mis- 
 sionaries; it is probably nearly allied to the Coptic or 
 Egyptian, as a great intercourse once subsisted between 
 the two countries. 
 
 Having thus detailed, at some length, the manners, 
 institutions, and present condition of Abyssinia, we shall 
 now proceed to give a sketch of its history, which the 
 limits prescribed to us for articles of this nature will 
 necessarily render short and imperfect. 
 
 Various opinions have been entertained concerning 
 the original population of Ethiopia. It was known 
 among the Jews by the name of Cituli ; an appellation 
 which applied likewise to the peninsula of Arabia, as 
 well as to the country watered by the Araxes ; and to 
 the region adjacent to Egypt, on the coast of the Ara- 
 bian gulf. To all these countries, the name was evi- 
 dently transmitted from Cush, the grandson of Noah ; 
 but the honour of being his lineal descendants has been 
 chiefly disputed by the Arabs and Abyssinians. The 
 majority of the learned have decided in favour of the 
 Arabs ; maintaining that Cush having settled in Ai'abia, 
 his descendants gradually migrated to its south-eastern 
 extremity ; whence, by an easy passage, they transport- 
 ed themselves across the straits of Babelmandeb, and 
 entered the countxy properly called Ethiopia. Accord- 
 ing to some writers, this migration took place while the 
 Israelites resided in Egypt; others date it from the pe- 
 riod when they were governed by judges in the land of 
 Canaan. On the other hand, a tradition prevails among 
 the Abyssinians, which, they say, has been transmitted 
 from time immemorial, that, soon after the flood, Cush, 
 with his family, passed through Atbara, at that time un- 
 inhabited, till they came to the ridge of mountains, by 
 which that country is separated from the high lands of 
 Abyssinia. Still dismayed by the remembrance of the 
 deluge, of which the tropical rains would seem to threat- 
 en a return, they did not venture to settle in the plains 
 of Atbara, but chose to dwell in caves scooped out in 
 the sides of the mountains. The tradition seems to be 
 partly refuted by the art which is displayed in the forma- 
 tion of these subterraneous abodes. " It is an undoubt- 
 ed fact," says Mr Bruce, "that here the Cushites, with 
 unparalleled industry, and with instruments utterly un- 
 known to us, formed for themselves commodious, yet 
 wonderful habitations, in the heart of mountains of gra- 
 nite and marble, which remain entire in great numbers 
 to this day, and promise to do so till the consummation 
 of all things." Now, it is not easy to conceive, how the 
 first inhabitants of a world, recently emerged froin the 
 waters of the flood, could possess cither knowledge or 
 means suflicient for working the heart of marble or gra- 
 nite, " into commodious, yet wonderful habitations." 
 
 Such works could only be accomplished by men \vh« 
 had long been united in regular society, and among 
 whom art, and even science, had been cultivated with 
 assiduity and success. These reflectioos give additional 
 probability to the conjecture, that Ethiopia was peopled 
 by a colony of Cushites from Arabia; the resemblance, 
 wiiich may still be traced between the features of the 
 Arabs and Abyssinians, sufficiently indicates their af- 
 finity. 
 
 As the Cushites became more numerous, they occu- 
 pied all the neighbouring mountains, still retaining their 
 original custom of dwelling in caverns, till extending 
 from one range to another, they spread their arts and 
 industry quite across the continent of Africa, from the 
 eastern to the western ocean. Early in the days of 
 Abraham, if we may believe the Abyssinian traditions, 
 they founded the city of Axum, whose ruins still bear 
 testimony to its ancient magnificence. Soon after, they 
 penetrated into Atbara, where, pleased to find themselves 
 beyond the limits of the tropical rains, which impeded 
 their progress in astronomy, their favourite science, 
 they built the city of Meroe, afterwards celebrated as 
 capital of that extensive peninsula of the same name, 
 which is formed by the branching of the Nile. Yet it 
 does not appear, that, even after building these cities, 
 they relinquished their ancient habitations in the moim- 
 tains. Mr Bruce saw many of these caves immediately 
 above the site of Meroe ; and, as a number of similar 
 excavations are to be seen near the top of a mountain in 
 the neighbourhood of Thebes, that city likewise probably 
 owed its origin to a colony of Cushites. 
 
 While the northern and central parts of their territory 
 were the scenes of such improvement, the colony had 
 extended itself southward along the mountains that run 
 parallel to the Arabian gulf. In that rich tract of coun- 
 try, then more important and better known than any part 
 of the globe, they found all the perfumes and aromatics 
 of the East, cassia, frankincense, and myrrh. It was 
 called Saba, or Azabo, signifying south, because it lay 
 on the southern coast of the Red Sea. Penetrating still 
 farther in the same direction, they entered into a de- 
 lightfid climate, where, in the course of their excava- 
 tions, they discovered large quantities of gold and silver, 
 lying in globules, pure and unalloyed, without any ne- 
 cessity of being prepared or separated. 
 
 These local advantages naturally directed their atten- 
 tion to commerce ; and the Ethiopians seem to have 
 been, at that early period, a nation of the first import- 
 ance for opulence and civilization. In the district ex- 
 tending from Meroe to Thebes, cities were built which 
 displayed many improvements in architecture ; com- 
 merce and agriculture iiitroduced the elegant arts ; and 
 the science of astronomy was cultivated with ardour, 
 and with peculiar advantage, under the unclouded sky 
 of the Thebaid. Nor were the sciences neglected by 
 their countrymen in the south. Those who dwelt within 
 the limits of the tropical rains, confined to their caves 
 or houses for six months in the year, would naturally be 
 led to employ their time in sedentary occupations. " Let- 
 ters," says Mr Bruce, " at least one kind of them, and 
 arithmetical characters, were invented by this middle 
 part of the Cushites; while trade and astronomy, the 
 natural history of the winds and seasons, were what ne- 
 cessarily employed that part of the colony established at 
 Sofala, most to the southward." 
 
 The nature of the commerce in which the Ethiopians 
 were engaged, the collecting of gold, and preparing of
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 47 
 
 Sipices necessarily confined them to their own country ; 
 and, Uiat ihcy might reap the full advantage of these 
 valuable prouuttions, it was requisite that tliey should 
 have nitrehaiUs, or carriers, to disperse them over the 
 continent. A wanddtirig shepherd tribe, who inhabited 
 the neighbouring country, seeii»ed by their roaming and 
 unsettled mode of lite, to be peculiarly qualified for that 
 cmploymcrit. These people difi'ered much in their ap- 
 pearance from the Ethiopians ; having long hair, Eu- 
 ropean features, and very dark complexions, though 
 without any resemblance to the black moor, or negro. 
 Fixed to no certain residence, they drove their nume- 
 rous flocks from place to place, and erected their movea- 
 ble huts wherever the pasture seemed most luxuriant, 
 or the stream mo:it refreshing. By conducting the 
 trade of the Cusliitcs, they became a great and powerful 
 people ; their flucks increased in number, and their ter- 
 ritory was enlarged. They occupied a narrow tract of 
 land along the Indian Ocean, and afterwards along the 
 Red Sea, to the ports of which they carried their mer- 
 chandise ; but their principal residence was in that level 
 region which lies between the northern tropic and the 
 nrountains of Abyssinia. This extensive country, which 
 is now called Beja, stretches along the sea-coast from 
 Masuah to Suakem,then turning westward, continues in 
 that direction, having the Nile on the south, and the 
 tropic of Cancer on the north, till it reaches the deserts 
 of Selima, and the confines of Libya. The next district 
 v/hich they possessed was Meroe, or, as it is now called, 
 Atbara, lyuig between the rivers Nile and Astaboras. 
 Another territory belonged to them, which is now called 
 Derkin, a small plain stretching from east to west, be- 
 tween the river Mareb and Atbara. But tlie noblest 
 and most warlike of all the Shepherds were those which 
 inhabited the mountains of the Habab, extending from 
 the neighbourhood of Masuali to Suakem. These shep- 
 herds were distinguished by various appellations, proba- 
 bly denoting their various degrees of rank. Some were 
 called simply Shepherds, whom we may suppose to have 
 been tlie lowest class. Some were called Hycsos, shep- 
 herds armed, or wearing harness, and were probably the 
 national soldiers. Ag-ag, is thought to have been the 
 appellation of their nobles or chiefs, whence arose the 
 title of king of kings. It was the hereditary name of 
 the king of Amalek, whom Samuel hewed in pieces, 
 and who was an Arabian shepherd. 
 
 The power of the Shepherds was greatly augmented 
 after the building of Carthage, as the extensive carriage 
 of that commercial city fell into the hands of the Leha- 
 bim, Lubim, or Libyan peasants. In those early ages, 
 the want of navigation was supplied by immense multi- 
 tudes of camels; and we find that, even before the days 
 of Joseph, the Ishmaelite merchants, with the help of 
 these animals, traded to Palestine and Syria, from the 
 southern extremity of the Arabian peninsula. The 
 Shepherds, tliough in general the friends and allies of 
 the Egyptians, were sometimes their most formidable 
 enemies. They were united, indeed, by mutual interest ; 
 hut no cordial amity could be expected between two 
 nations, whose manners and religion were so much at 
 variance. The cow, which the Egyptians worshipped, 
 the Shepherds slaughtered for food ; and, while the 
 idolatry of the former converted into objects of adoration 
 the most vaiclean animals, and the vilest reptiles, the 
 latter paid their pvu-er and more rational homage only 
 to the luminaries of heaven. 
 
 But besides the Cushites and Shepherds, Abyssinia 
 
 is inhabited by nations of a fairer complexion, who, 
 though of various names, are all comprehended under 
 the general denomination ot Hahbesli, sigiiilying a num- 
 ber of distinct people, assembled by accident in one 
 place. The chronicle of Axuin, the most ancient his- 
 tory of this counliy, whose autiiority, next to that oi the 
 Holy Scriptures, is held most sacred Ijy tbe Abyssinians, 
 gives the following account of the original settlement of 
 these various nations. Abyssinia, according to this his- 
 tory, was never inhabited till 1808 years before the birth 
 of Christ. Two hundred years after that period, it was 
 laid waste by a flood, which so deformed and altered the 
 face of the country, that it received the name of Ourc 
 Midra, a country laid waste ; or, as it is expressed by 
 Isaiah (xviii. 2) a land w/iic/i the ivaters or Jioods had 
 ■sjwiled. About 1400 years belore the nativity, it was 
 peopled by a variety of nations, speaking different lan- 
 guages, who settled unmolested in the high lands of 
 Tigre, among the Agaazi or Shepherds, with whom 
 they were in friendship. The most considerable of 
 these nations settled in the province of Amhara, origi- 
 nally as little known as any of the recent establishments ; 
 but upon a revolution which took place in the country, 
 the king fled thither with his court, and remained so 
 long, that the Geez, or language of the Shepherds, was 
 dropt, and would have become totally obsolete, had not 
 the sacred writings been translated into that dialect. 
 The nation second in consequence, was the Agows of 
 Damot, a province in the south of Abyssinia, where 
 they are settled immediately upon the sources of the 
 Abay. The next are the Agows of Lasta, called like- 
 wise Tcheratz Agow, from Tchera, their principal re- 
 sidence ; these people live in caverns, and seem to 
 worship the Tacazze with the ^ame degree of venera- 
 tion which the Agows of Damot pay to the Abay, or 
 Abyssinian Nile. There is still another of these nations, 
 named Gafat, who dwell near Damot, on the southern 
 banks of the Abay ; and who, according to their own 
 declaration, ever have been Pagans, as they now are. 
 Thus, the different nations who possessed Abyssinia, 
 were the Cushites, the Shepherds, Amhara, Agow of 
 Damot, Agow of Tchera, and Gafat. In conformity 
 with the Axum chronicle, which mentions that the four 
 last of these nations had emigrated from Palestine, ]\Ir 
 Bruce contends that they were Canaanites, who escaped 
 from the cruelty of the Israelites, when they took pos- 
 session of the promised land. His theory is contrary to 
 probability, and unsupported by facts. It rests chiefly 
 on the coincidence between the period of the invasion 
 of Canaan, and the entrance of these strangers into 
 Ethiopia ; and on the testimony of Procopins, w ho men- 
 tions that, in his time, two pillars were standing on the 
 coast of Mauritania, which bore this inscription in the 
 Phoenician language : " We are Canaanites, flying from 
 the face of Joshua the son of Nun, the robber." Were 
 the first of these arguments admitted, it would not be 
 difficult to indentify the negroes imported to our West 
 Indian colonies from the coast of Guinea, with the ad- 
 venturers who emigrate, at the same period, to the 
 American continents, from the Highlands of Scotland ; 
 and, as the authenticity of the inscriptions mentioned by 
 Procopius is much disputed, they cannot fairly be ad- 
 duced in proof of any historical fact. j\Ir Bruce's 
 opinion, that the Ethiopians spoke the original language, 
 and were the first inventors of writing, must be as- 
 cribed to the same fondness for theory, by which he 
 seems to have been too frequently misled. It is pertain.
 
 48 
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 however, that they wore, in ancient tiines, a learned and 
 civilized people ; how tliey came to be degraded into 
 their present state of barbarity, is a phenomenon as un- 
 accountable and striking, as the degeneracy of their 
 neighbours, the Egyptians. 
 
 According to an extravagant fiction, the Ethiopians, 
 who possessed the country of Thcbais, made an irrup- 
 tion into Lower Egypt, while the Jewish legislator re- 
 sided in that country ; penetrated as far as Memphis ; 
 and, having defeated the Egyptians, threatened the 
 kingdom with total destruction. By the advice of the 
 oracles, Moses was intrusted with the conniiand of the 
 Egyptian forces, and immediately prepared to invade 
 the enemy's country. Instead of marching along the 
 banks of the Nile, where the Ethiopiajis were ready to 
 oppose him, he led his army through some of the in- 
 terior countries, which were nmch infested \\ith serpents. 
 To protect his men from these dangerous animals, he 
 carried along with him a number of panniers, formed of 
 the papyrus, which he filled with the birds named ibis, 
 and, as soon as he approached the tract where the rep- 
 tiles abounded, he let out a sufficient number of these 
 birds, which, by destroying the serpents, cleared the 
 way for his army. The Ethiopians, thus surprised in 
 their own country, where they had no dread of invasion, 
 were easily defeated in the field, and took refuge in 
 their capital Meroe, a city rendered almost impi-egna- 
 ble by three rivers flowing round it, the Astapus, the 
 Astaboras, and the Nile. The daughter of the Ethiopian 
 monarch became enamoured of Moses, whom she had 
 seen from the walls ; and offered, on condition of his 
 swearing to marry her, to open the city to the assailants. 
 Moses complied ; but stained the gloiy of his conquest 
 by his cruelty towards the inhabitants. He plundered 
 their city, put many of them to the sword, ravaged the 
 whole country, and dismantled their places of strength. 
 He then returned in triumph to Egypt, after having been 
 absent for ten years on this expedition. 
 
 From the invasion by Moses till the ;queen of Sheba's 
 visit to Jerusalem, we have no particulars of the history 
 of Ethiopia. The Abyssinians, who suppose that prin- 
 cess to have been sovereign of Ethiopia Proper, tell us, 
 that, having heard from Tameran, an Ethiopian mer- 
 chant, of the surprising opulence and wisdom of Solo- 
 mon, she resolved to ascertain in person tlie truth of 
 his report. Though she had been a Pagan before un- 
 dertaking this journey, she was so struck with the 
 grandeur of the Jewish monarch, and the extensive 
 knowledge which he displayed, that she immediately 
 tecame a convert to the true religion. It is added, that 
 she became pregnant by Solomon, and, on returning to 
 her own country, was delivered of a son, to whom she 
 gave the name of Menilek, another self. Some years 
 after, Menikk was sent to his father's court, where he 
 was carefully instructed in the learning and institutions of 
 the' Jews, and crowned king of Ethiopia, in the temple 
 of Jerusalem, receiving from Solomon, at his inaugura- 
 tion, the name of David. After remaining for some 
 time in Judea, he was accompanied to Ethiopia by many 
 Israelites of distinction, and particularly by twelve doc- 
 tors of the law, chosen from the twelve tribes, among 
 whom was Azariah the son of Zadoc, the high priest. 
 These introduced into Abyssinia the religion of Moses, 
 and framed after Jewish models the civil and sacred in- 
 stitutions of the country. Mr Bruce supposes, with 
 great probability, that this princess was queen of the 
 territory named Saba or Azab ; an opinion which coin- 
 
 cides more exactly tliau any other, witii iht deacriplloa 
 which our Saviour has given of her, "as queen of the 
 south, coming from the ultcrmosl parts of the earth." 
 She is called by the Arabs Bclkis, and Makeda by the 
 Abyssinians. She crijoyed the sovereignty for forty 
 years, and, before her death, she boun(l her subjects 
 by three remarkable laws: 1st, That the crown should 
 be hereditary in the family of Solomon : 2dly, That, after 
 her, no woman should be allowed to inherit the crown, 
 or to reign as queen, but that it should descend to the 
 heirs-male, however distant, to the exclusion of all 
 female heirs, however near ; and tiiat these two articles 
 should be considered as the fundamental and unalterable 
 laws of the kingdom : Lastly, she enacted, that the heirs- 
 male of the royal family should be imprisoned on a 
 high mountain, where they were to continue till death, 
 or till the course of succession should call them to the 
 throne. 
 
 Having established these regulations in a manner 
 not to be revoked, Makeda died in the 98Gth year be- 
 fore the birth of Christ, leaving her son Menilek to 
 succeed her, whose descendants, if we may believe the 
 Abyssinian annals, have ever since continued to occupy 
 the throne. In the reign of Menilek, the empire was in- 
 vaded by Shishak, king of Egypt, who plundered the 
 temple of Jerusalem, under Rehoboam. A rich temple 
 which had been erected at Saba, the capital of the 
 Ethiopian empire, underwent a similar fate ; and it was 
 probably on this occasion that Menilek removed the seat 
 of government to Tigre. Many circumstances concur 
 to prove, that Shishak was no other than the celebrated 
 Sesostris, and was the first Egyptian monarch who had 
 made conquests in Ethiopia. Scripture indirectly as- 
 cribes to Shishak the sovereignty of this country ; and 
 Herodotus explicitly asserts, that Sesostris was master 
 of Ethiopia ; though neither in sacred nor profane 
 history is it elsewhere related, that this empire was ever 
 subject to any other Egyptian. 
 
 From the death of Shishak till the days of Cyrus the 
 great, there is a chasm in the history of Abyssinia 
 which can only be filled up by theory and conjecture. 
 That conqueror is said to have subdued Ethiopia ; but 
 the inhabitants having revolted after his death, Camby- 
 ses, his successor, attempted in vain to reduce them to 
 submission. Before he undertook tliis expedition, he 
 sent ambassadors to the king of the Macrobii, under 
 pretence of soliciting his alliance, though in reality he 
 only wished to ascertain the strength of the country. 
 The Etliiopian monarch, aware of his design, disdained 
 tlie rich presents which Cambyses had sent him ; re- 
 proached the ambassadors with the injustice and am- 
 bition of their sovereign, and delivered to them a bow, 
 with these remarkable words : " Cany this bow to your 
 master, and till he can find a man able to bend it, let 
 him not talk to us of submission." This resolute an- 
 swer so exasperated Cambyses, that he instantly began 
 his march, witliout taking time even to procure the ne- 
 cessary provisions for his army- A famine of conse- 
 quence ensued among them, which became at last so 
 dreadful, that the soldiers were compelled to devour 
 one another ; and Cambyses finding himself in immi- 
 nent danger, marched back his army with prodigious 
 loss. Even if he could have effected his march into 
 the heart of the empire, he would probably have failed 
 in the object of his expedition; for Ethiopia had been 
 strengthened, but a short time before, by an accession 
 of 34,000 Egyptians. These fugitives had been sta-
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 49 
 
 tioued by Psamnienitus in dift'crcni places on the fron- 
 tiers, and, having continued there for three years without 
 being relieved, revolted to the emperor of Ethiopia, 
 wlio placed Iheni in a country disaffected to him, order- 
 ing them to expel the inhabitants, and to occupy their 
 territory. 
 
 Curiosity induced Ptolemy Euergetes to invade this 
 country, for tlie sole purpose of discovering the source 
 of the Nile. Though no historian has recorded the par- 
 ticulars of his expedition, it appears from an inscription 
 copied by Cosnius Egyptius, from a white marble chair, 
 which stood at the entrance of Adule, one of tl'.e cities of 
 Ethiopia, that he had penetrated into the fiirt!ie->t parts of 
 the empire ; subdued its most powerful nations ; and, af- 
 ter all his conquests, assembled his army at Adulc, where 
 he sacrificed to Mars, Neptune, and Jupiter ; and, in 
 gratitude for his success, dedicated to Mars a white 
 marble chair. 
 
 In the reign of Augitstus, when the Roman forces 
 were drawn out of Egypt, for the purpose of invading 
 Arabia, Candace, queen of Meroe, took advantage of 
 their absence, to make an irruption into the province of 
 Thebais. As she met with no force to oppose her, she 
 proceeded, for some time, with great success ; but being 
 at length apprised that Pctronius, governor of Egypt, 
 •was hastening towards her with a powerful army, she 
 retired with precipitation into her own dominions. Pe- 
 tronius overtook her at Pselcha, where, with not more 
 than one-third of the number of men which composed 
 the Ethiopian army, he gained an easy victory over 
 those undisciplined savages, who were armed only with 
 poles, hatchets, or bludgeons. He reduced the most 
 important fortresses of the country ; but, notwithstand- 
 ing his success, was obliged, soon after, to withdraw his 
 soldiers, who were unable to sustain the excessive heat 
 of the climate. Candace afterwards sent ambassadors 
 to Rome, who gratified Augustus with sucli magnificent 
 presents, that he was induced to grant tlieir queen a 
 peace on terms of her own proposing. The Romans, 
 from that time, accounted themselves masters of Etlii- 
 opia; and Augustus was congratulated on having com- 
 pleted the conquest of Africa, by reducing a country till 
 that time unknown. The conquest, hov. ever, was mere- 
 ly nominal, for Meroe continued under the government 
 of its wonted sovereign. Queens, who were distinguish- 
 ed by the general title of Candace, as the Roman empe- 
 rors by that of Csesar, had reigned in that country for 
 many generations ; and we learn, from the story of the 
 Ethiopian eunuch, that it still continued, in the reign of 
 Tiberius, to be governed by a princess of the same name. 
 
 During the reign of Abreha and Atzbeha, (translated 
 by Mr Bruce, Jbraham the blessed) who ascended the 
 throne about 327 years after the Christian era, Mero- 
 pius, a philosopher of Tyre, by nation and religion a 
 Greek, set sail for India from a port on the Red Sea, tak- 
 ing along with him Frumentius and Qidesius, two young 
 men on whom he had bestowed a very liberal education. 
 Their vessel was cast away on the rocks of the Abyssi- 
 nian coast, and Meropius was slain by the barbarous na- 
 tives, while acting bravely in his own defence. The 
 youths were conveyed to Axum, then the capital of the 
 kingdom and the residence of the court, where they 
 soon displayed the superiority of a cultivated mind. 
 The Abyssinians regarded them as prodigies : CEdesius 
 was set over the king's household and wardrobe, an of- 
 fice which has always been held by a stranger; and 
 Frumentius was intrusted by the Iteghe, or queen dow- 
 
 VoL. I. Part I. 
 
 agcr, with the charge of the young prince's education, 
 to which he devoted himself with the most faithful as- 
 siduity. Having imlnied the mind of his p\ipil with all 
 the learning of the times, he inspired him with a love 
 and veneration for the Christian religion. 
 
 After this he visited Athanasius, who had been leccnt- 
 ly elected Patriarch of Alexandria, related to him the 
 progress he had made towards the conversion of the 
 young monarch, and the sanguine hopes which he en- 
 tertained of seeing the Christian religion estalilished in 
 Ethiopia. Athanasius, delighted with the prospect ol 
 such an accession of proselytes, consecrated Frumentius 
 bishopof Axuma ; who, returning immediately to enter 
 on his new office, found his royal pupil completely dis- 
 posed to favour his pious design. He made an open 
 avowal of the Christian faith; his example was followed 
 by the greater part of his subjects ; and, amidst the nu- 
 merous heresies which then prevailed in the East, the 
 church of Ethiopia remained uncontaminated, so long as 
 it was superintended by its first bishop and apostle. 
 
 It was during this reign that the Abyssinians under- 
 took the expedition, celebrated in Arabian story under 
 the name of the War of the Elelihant. In the middle of 
 the Arabian peninsula stood a temple, which, for about 
 fourteen centuries, had been held in the highest venera- 
 tion ; for it was built, say the Arabs, on the spot where 
 Adam had pitched his tent when driven from Paradise, 
 and contained the black stone on which Jacob reposed 
 his head, when he saw the vision of the angels descend- 
 ing and ascending on the ladder, that reached to heaven. 
 The multitude of strangers, who resorted from the sur- 
 rounding nations to this sacred place, suggested the idea 
 of rendering it the emporium of the trade between India 
 and Africa. Part of Arabia seems, at that time, to have 
 been in possession of the Ethiopians, and Abreha, to 
 divert the trade into a channel more convenient for his 
 own dominions, built a large temple in the country of the 
 Homerites, near the Indian ocean, on which he bestow- 
 ed all the privileges enjoyed by the temple of Mecca. 
 Alarmed at the prospect of having thefr city deserted, 
 the Arabians entered the temple of Abreha by night, and 
 after burning as much of it as could be consumed, pollu- 
 ted the rest with every mark of indignity. To revenge 
 this sacrilegious insult, Abreha, mounted upon a white 
 elephant, marched against Mecca with a powerful army, 
 resolving to level its temple with the ground. His fury 
 was diverted by the stratagem of Abow Talcb, Maho- 
 met's grandfather, who was then keeper of the Caaba, 
 or round tower. He persuaded his countrymen to make 
 no resistance to the Ethiopian army; presented him- 
 self before Abreha early on his march ; and, by false in- 
 telligence, directed his vengeance from Mecca against 
 the rival temple of Osiris at Taief, which Abreha razed 
 to its foundations, and then prepared to return to his own 
 kingdom. It was not long before he was convinced of 
 his mistake, and Mecca would have soon fallen a victim 
 to his indignation, had not Heaven interposed for the 
 protection of that holy city. A flock of birds, called Aba- 
 bil, came from the sea, having faces like lions, and each 
 holding in his claws a stone like a pea, which they let 
 fall upon the Ethiopians in such numbers, that every one 
 of them was destroyed. A less miraculous account of 
 their destruction is, that, during the siege of Mecca, the 
 small-pox made its appearance ; and the investing anny 
 were the first of its victims. 
 
 It is said, that after the death of Abreha, the court, ajid 
 principal people of Abyssinia, relapsed into idolatry, 
 
 G
 
 50 
 
 AHYSSINIA. 
 
 which conlinucd lo prevail till the year 521, when they 
 were again converted by their king Adad, or Aidog, pro- 
 bably the same with Caleb, or Elisbaan. That monarch 
 was engaged in war witli .lie Homeritcs, or Sabaeans, in 
 Arabia telix, and, having dcl'eated their armies, and 
 subverted their kingdom, he embraced the Christian re- 
 ligion, m token of gratitude to its auth6r, to whom he 
 ascribed his success. 
 
 Soon alter this event, a violent persecution of the 
 Christians broke out in Arabia. At an early period, the 
 Jewish religion had penetrated far into that penmsula ; 
 and, after the temple had been destroyed by Titus, its 
 professors were strengthened by such an accession of 
 numbers and of wealih, as enabled them to establish 
 several independent prmc.palities. In the Neged, and 
 even as far as Medina, petty sovereigns started up, 
 whose knowledge and practice in war rendered them ex- 
 tremely formidable to the commercial and eflcminate 
 Arabians. These people persecuted the Christians 
 witn the most inveterate hatred. Phineas, one of their 
 princes from Medina, having defeated the governor of 
 Najiran, ordered furnaces, or pits full of fire, to be pre- 
 pared, into which he threw as many of the inhabitants 
 of that place as refused to renounce the Christian reli- 
 gion. The governor St Aretas, with ninety of his com- 
 panions, fell victims to his cruelty. Justin, the Greek 
 emperor, could give no relief to these afflicted Chris- 
 tians, as he was at that time engaged in an unsuccessful 
 war against the Persians ; but, in the year 522, he sent 
 an embassy to the king of Abyssinia, entreating him, 
 since he too was now a member of the Greek church, 
 to interfere in favour of the Christians of Najiran. Ca- 
 leb, on receiving this message, commanded his general 
 Abreha, governor of Yemen, to march to the aid of young 
 Aretas, who was then collecting troops to revenge his 
 father's death. The ardent warrior strengthened by 
 this remforcement, would not wait till the arrival of the 
 emperor, who had promised to follow Abreha with a 
 pcvverful army. He came up with Phineas, while lie 
 was ferrying his troops over an arm of the sea; the 
 Jewish forces were completely routed, and their general 
 himself, to escape being taken, was compelled to swim 
 on his horse to the nearest shore. In a short time af- 
 terwards, the emperor with his army crossed the Red 
 Sea ; and Phineas, hazarding a second battle, was again 
 defeated. But, notwithstanding tlicse misfortunes, none 
 of the Jewish principalities seem, at that time, to have 
 been overturned. 
 
 When Mahomet promulgated his pretended revela- 
 tion, the Ethiopian governor of Yemen became a convert 
 to his doctrines ; but there seems to be no truth in the 
 story so eagerly propagated by the Arabian historians, 
 that the king of Abyssinia himself embraced the new 
 religion. Froin this time the Abyssinians lost all the 
 power which they had formerly enjoyed in Arabia. 
 The governors were expelled by Mahomet and his suc- 
 cessors, and, taking refuge in Africa with great num- 
 bers of their subjects, established there the kingdoms of 
 Adel, Wypo, Mara, Tarshish, Iladea, Aussa, and several 
 others, which soon rose to importance for power and 
 opulence. 
 
 The successors of Mahomet, in the progress of their 
 victories, had expelled the Jews by violence or oppres- 
 sion from their dominions in Palestine, Arabia, and 
 Egypt. Abyssinia, unsubdued by these fierce enthusi- 
 asts, afforded an asylum to the fugitives, the more invit- 
 ing, as their countrymen had already a powerful estab- 
 
 lishment in that empire. There was one Jewish family 
 which had always preserved on the mountain of Samen 
 an independent sovereignty, and the royal resiuencc 
 was on the summit of a liigh pointed clin, called Irom 
 that circumstance, the Jtiu's Hock. Several other rug- 
 ged and inaccessible mountains were occupied by that 
 people as natural iortrcssesi and their strength was so 
 mucn increased by the numbers of their countrymen 
 who fled before the conquering Mahometans, that they 
 began to meditate a revolution in Abyssinia, in favour of 
 then- own rcligon. Many circumstances concurred to 
 facilitate their design. The Abyssinians, distracted by 
 various heresies, were more inclined to embrace any 
 other religion, than to yield one disputed point to their 
 Christian adversaries; the country, desolated by pesti- 
 lence and war, suffered, moreover, all the multiplied 
 evils which usually prevail under the government of a 
 minor; and Judith, the daughter of tlie Jewish king, a 
 woman of unbounded ambition, and of singular talents 
 for intrigue, had lately been married to the governor of 
 Bugna, a small district in the neighbourhood of Lasta, 
 both which countries were strongly prejudiced in favour 
 of Judaism. This artful and aspiring woman had form- 
 ed so powerful a faction, that she resolved to usurp the 
 throne of Abyssinia, and to extirpate the family of Solo- 
 mon, who had continued since the days of Makeda, to 
 reign in uninterrupted succession. With this design, 
 she surprised the almost inaccessible mountain of Danio, 
 where the royal princes were at that time confined, and 
 massacred every one of them, to the number, it is said 
 of four hundred. Fortunately the nobles of Amhara, on 
 hearing of this catastrophe, conveyed the infant king Del 
 Naad, the only surviving prince of his race, into the loy- 
 al province of Shoa, and thus the line of Solomon was 
 preserved ; and at length, after an interval of some ages, 
 restored. 
 
 Judith immediately mounted the throne, to which she 
 had thus paved her way through blood ; and, in defiance 
 of one of the fundamental laws of the kingdom, that no 
 woman should be permitted to reign, not only enjoyed 
 the sovereignty undisturbed during forty years, but trans- 
 mitted it in peace to her family ; five of whom succes- 
 sively swayed the sceptre of Abyssinia. Of the trans- 
 actions of these reigns nothing is recorded ; except that, 
 during this whole period, the kingdom was a scene of 
 murder, violence, and oppression. By a new revolution, 
 of which the history Is now lost, the descendants of Ju- 
 dith were supplanted by relations of tlieir own, a noble 
 family of Lasta. The reign of these princes was distin- 
 guished by the restoration of Christianity, and the gen- 
 eral mildness of their government. The kingdom, un- 
 der them, recovered from the misfortunes which had 
 long overwhelmed it ; and their names are still pre- 
 served with gratitude and veneration. But as they 
 were not of the line of Solomon, and, of consequence, 
 were accounted usurpers, the history of none of them 
 is recorded in the annals of the nation, excepting that of 
 Lalibala, w ho was revered as a saint, and who reigned, 
 with great splendour, about the beginning of the thir- 
 teenth century. 
 
 At that time, the Saracens, havmg conquered Egypt, 
 persecuted the Christians in that country with great 
 rigour, and particularly the masons and hewers of stone, 
 whom they detested as the promoters of idolatry, by the 
 ornaments with which they embellished their works. 
 Lalibala opened an asylum for those Egyptians, of whom 
 prodigious mimbers resorted to his dominions ; and re-
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 51 
 
 solved to render tlicm userul to the country from wliich 
 they received protection. He h;id loni^ admired the ca- 
 verns ol" tlie ancient Troglodytes ; and the lirsl work in 
 which lie employed the Egyptians, was to hew churches, 
 after these speciniens, out of the rocks of his native coun- 
 try Lasta. These churches still remain entire, having 
 large columns formed out of the solid adamant, with 
 every species of ornament that can be executed in build- 
 ings above ground. He next engaged in the more ar- 
 duous attempt to lessen tlie stream of the Nile, that it 
 might no longer fertilize the land of Egypt, possessed, 
 at that time, by the enemies of his religion. I5y an exact 
 survey and calculation, he had discovered, that several 
 of its tributary streams, which issued from the highest 
 part of the country, could be directed into the low coun- 
 try to the south, instead of taking a northern course, and 
 thus augmenting the Nile. It said, that he succeeded so 
 far as to intersect two of its largest branches, which 
 have ever since flowed into the Indian Ocean. He was 
 next pioceeding to carry a level towards the lake Za- 
 waia, the reservoir of many of the streams which flow 
 into the Egyptian river; which would certainly have 
 been very sensibly diminished by the loss of so much 
 water. Death interposed to prevent the execution of 
 this stupendous design; though there is at Shoa a writ- 
 ten account, which states, that he was dissuaded from his 
 undertaking by certain monks, who represented to him 
 the danger of enriching, by so many fine rivers, the 
 kingdoms of Hadea, Add, and Mara, which would thus 
 be rendered so populous and powerful as to rival the em- 
 pire of Aliyssinia, or, at least, to become altogether in- 
 dependent of its authority. Alvarez informs us, that 
 Roderigo de Lima, the Portuguese ambassador, saw the 
 remains of these works in the year 1522, and travelled 
 among them for several days. 
 
 Ever since the usurpation of Judith, the descendants 
 of Del Naad had continued to rule over the loyal pro- 
 vince of Shoa, without having made one attempt towards 
 recovering their ancient sovereignty. But what they 
 despaired of effecting by force of arms, they obtained 
 from the magnanimous generosity of the grandson of 
 Lalibala. Tecla Haimanout, who had been ordained 
 Abuna, and who is celebrated as the founder of the 
 monastery of Dcbra Libanos, had acquired, by the sanc- 
 tity of his character, and his love for his country, an un- 
 limited influence over the mind of Naacucto Laab, the 
 reigning monarch, a prince remarkable for the integrity 
 of his principles, and the benevolence of his disposition. 
 He was easily persuaded by the Abuna, that his crown, 
 though transmitted to him from his ancestors, whose 
 virtues had rendered it illustrious, could never be puri- 
 fied from the stain of usurpation ; and he willingly re- 
 signed it to Icon Amlac, of the line of Solomon, then 
 reigning in the province of Shoa. In consequence of 
 the mediation of Tecla Haimanout, a treaty was con- 
 cluded between these two princes, in which it was sti- 
 pulated, that Icon Amlac should ascend the throne of 
 Abyssinia ; but that a portion of territory in Lasta should 
 be granted in absolute property to Naacueto Laab, and 
 his heirs ; that, in token of their former grandeur, they 
 should retain the emblems of sovereignty ; be free from 
 all public burdens ; and be styled kings of Zague, or the 
 Lasta kings. Nor did the Abuna forget his own interest in 
 this mediation. By one of its articles he obtained a 
 third of the kingdom for the maintenance of his own 
 dignity, and for the support of the clergy, convents and 
 churches throughout the empire ; and by another it was 
 
 decreed, that, after him, no native Abyssinian should be 
 chosen Abuna, even although he should be ordained at 
 Cairo. " Tlie part of the treaty most liable to be bro- 
 ken," as is well observed by Mr Bruce, " was that which 
 ei-ected a kingdom within a kingdom. However, it is 
 one of the remarkable facts in the annals of this coun- 
 try, that the article between Icon Amlac, and the house 
 of Zague, was carefully observed for near 500 years. 
 It was made before the year loOO, and was never vio- 
 lated till the treacherous murder of the Zaguean prince, 
 in the unfortunate war of Begemder, in the reign of Joas, 
 1768. Icon Amlac, though now sovereign of Abys- 
 sinia, continued to reside in the province which had 
 been so faithful to his family. He reigned a considera- 
 ble time ; and was succeeded on the throne by five dif- 
 ferent princes in the same numlaer of years. 
 
 The cause of this rapid succession of sovereigns, and 
 the events which happened in their reigns, are equally 
 unknown to us ; nor have we any account of the trans- 
 actions of the empire till the days of Amda Sion, who 
 began to reign in the year 1312. He was the son of 
 Wedem Araad, who was the youngest brother of Icon 
 Amlac. Amda Sion was his inauguration name, by 
 which he is generally known ; his Christian name was 
 Guebra Mascal. The first actions of his reign were 
 disgraceful to humanity, and very different from the 
 character which he ever afterwards maintained. Not 
 content with living publicly with his father's concubine, 
 he soon after committed incest with his two sisters. 
 Honorius, a monk, who was afterwards canonized for his 
 sanctity first exhorted him to repentance, and then pub- 
 licly excommunicated him for these infamous crimes. 
 The refractory inonarch, instead of sinking under this 
 sentence, ordered Honorius to be whipped through the 
 streets of his capital. That very night the town was re- 
 duced to ashes by fire, arising, through the just ven- 
 geance of Heaven, from the blood of the outraged saint. 
 Such at least was the account which the clergy gave of 
 this catastrophe ; but the king, convinced that they 
 themselves were the incendiaries, banished them into 
 those provinces, of which the inhabitants were chiefly 
 Pagans or Jews, where they were extremely successful 
 in propagating the Christian religion. 
 
 The licentious conduct of Amda Sion had produced, 
 in the neighbouring nations, such a contempt for his 
 government, that, while he himself was embroiled with 
 Honorius and the monks, one of his factors, who had 
 been charged with his commercial interests, was robbed 
 and assassinated by the Moors, in the province of Ifat. 
 Impatient to revenge this outrage, he suddenly assem- 
 bled his troops, and ordered them to rendezvous at 
 Shugura, upon the frontiers ; while, attended by only 
 seven horsemen, he fell upon the nearest Mahometan 
 settlements, putting all he met with to the sword. He 
 then placed himself at the head of his army, and 
 desolated the whole country, carrying off a prodigiovis 
 
 bootV. 
 
 The Moors, astonished by the unexpected activity of 
 this monarch, whom they had despised as an effeminate 
 voluptuary, assembled in great numbers to oppose him ; 
 and, hearing that he was left with scarcely a sufficient 
 number of soldiers to guard the camp, they resolved to 
 attack him before break of day, imagining that he coutd 
 not possibly make any effectual resistance. Fortunate- 
 ly two detachments of his army had joined him the night 
 before : these he drew up in battle array, and, when the 
 Moors presented themselves, he attacked them with 
 G 2
 
 S'2 
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 resistless lury, slew Uieir gencfal uith his own hand, 
 and, animating his iioops by his example, obtained a de- 
 i;isive victory. He then commanded his soldiers to 
 build huts lor themselves, and to sow the adjacent lands, 
 as if he intended to continue during the rainy season in 
 the enemy's country. Terrified at the prospect of being 
 iotally extirpated, the Moors readily subnuttcd to the 
 tribute which he imposed ; and the king, already ad- 
 mired for his valour, conciliated still farther the af- 
 ieetious of his subjects, by distributing among them his 
 own share of the plunder. Even the priests, whom he 
 had so much oflended, now extolled his mui)ificence to 
 the churches, and his zeal against the enemies of the 
 cross. 
 
 Scarcely had the Abyssinians returned to their own 
 country, when the Moors prepared for another revolt. 
 A combination w^as formed by Amano king of Hadea, 
 Saber-eddin, whom Amda Sion had made governor of 
 Fatigar, and secretly by Gimmel-eddin, governor in 
 Dawaro. The king endeavoured to conceal his know- 
 ledge of their conspiracy, that, without awakening their 
 suspicions, he might prepare an army powerful enough 
 to crush them, before they had time to unite their for- 
 ces. The Moors, though fully apprised of his prepara- 
 tions, facilitated by their own precipitation the comple- 
 tion of his design ; for, without any regular plan of 
 operation, they suddenly commenced hostilities, by plun- 
 dering some Christian villages, and destroying their 
 churches. The royal army was despatched against the 
 rebels in three separate detachments. Amano, king of 
 Hadea, who, by the advice of a conjurer, had resolved 
 to wait in his own dominions the approach of Amda 
 Sion, whom, it was decreed, he should deprive at once 
 6f his kingdom and his life, was surprised by the gene- 
 ral of the cavalry, his army completely routed, and him- 
 self carried prisoner to the capital. Saber-eddin was 
 next brought to an engagement by the governor of Am- 
 hara, who gained a decisive victory, laid waste the 
 rebel's country, and made captives of his wife and chil- 
 dren. Meanwhile intelligence was received, that the 
 I'alasha likewise were in rebellion, and had already taken 
 the field with a formidable army. By the king's com- 
 jnand, Tzaga Christos, governor of Begemder, assem- 
 bled the troops of his province, with those of Gondar, 
 Sacalto, and Damot ; overtook the rebels, before they 
 had time to commit much devastation, defeated them 
 with great slaughter, and forced the survivors to con- 
 ceal themselves among their fastnesses in the moun- 
 tains. The kuig himself had proceeded with a small 
 detachment of his army to Dawaro, to keep the govern- 
 or of that province in awe ; and, having now completely 
 succeeded in quelling the rebels, was preparmg to re- 
 turn with his victorious forces, when he was informed 
 that the kings of Adel and Mara had resolved to give 
 him battle. Exasperated by this intelligence, he pre- 
 pared to pursue his enemies with the most signal ven- 
 geance. To give greater solemnity to his resolution, he 
 assembled the principal officers of his army, and, sur-- 
 rounded by his soldiers, pronounced before a monk of 
 noted sanctity, and arrayed in his sacerdotal habit, a 
 Song invective against the Mahometans ; recounted the 
 improvoked injuries which, at the instigation of the 
 ■kings of Adel and Mara, they had committed against 
 him ; enumerated the atrocities of which they had been 
 guilty ; disclaimed all avaricious motives in undertak- 
 ing the war, declaring, that he would appropriate no 
 ?>art of the spoil which was stained with the blood of his 
 
 subjects, more valuable to him than all the riches ot 
 Adel ; and concluded with swearing on the holy cu- 
 charist, that, though but twenty of his army should join 
 him, he would not turn his back upon Adel or Mara, till 
 he had either forced them to submit as tributaries, or 
 had utterly extirpated them, and annihilated their re- 
 ligion. The soldiers were fired by his enthusiasm ; and, 
 to show themselves as disinterested as their sovereign, 
 took lighted torches in their hands, and set fire to all the 
 rich spoil which they had acquii'ed in the province of 
 Fatigar. Having thus satisfied their consciences that 
 they were the true soldiers of Christ, they set out on their 
 march, thirsting, not for the wealth, but the blood of the 
 infidels. 
 
 Their ardent impetuosity was checked by the obsta- 
 cles to which their own superstition gave rise. The 
 Abyssinians believe, that the world is possessed, during 
 the night, by certain genii unfriendly to mankind, dis- 
 turbed by the slightest motion, and implacable in their 
 revenge. To such a degree does the dread of these 
 spirits prevail, that an Abyssinian will not venture, at 
 night, even to throw a little water out of a basin, lest it 
 should violate the dignity of some vindictive elf. The 
 Moors deride these superstitious fears, and frequently 
 turn them to their own advantage. Protected by averse 
 of the Koran, sewed up in leather, and worn round their 
 neck or arms, they bid defiance to the power of the most 
 malignant genius, and engage without scruple in any 
 nocturnal enterprise. In their wars with the Abyssinians, 
 night is their favourite season of attack ; and, in the 
 present campaign, they resolved to avoid a pitched 
 battle, and to harass the king's army in the dark. The 
 troops of Amda Sion, though they had always the advan- 
 tage, were soon wearied out by these nightly skirmishes ; 
 and, on the commencement of the rainy season, insisted 
 on bemg allowed to return. A prince of such a martial 
 disposition, naturally resented a proposal which betray- 
 ed their deficiency in steadiness and discipline. He 
 therefore desired his officers to acquaint them, that, if 
 they were afraid of rains, he would conduct them to 
 Adel, where there were none ; and that, for his own 
 part, he had resolved not to quit the field, while there 
 was one village in his dominions that did not acknow- 
 ledge him as sovereign. On hearing this remonstrance^ 
 the army again set forward ; but, being still harassed by 
 the nightly attacks of the Moors, the spirit of mutiny 
 began once more to prevail. The eloquence of the king 
 brought them back to a sense of their duty ; but imme- 
 diately afterwards he was seized with a violent fever, 
 which seemed to threaten his life. While, in consequence 
 of his illness, the soldiers expected every moment an 
 order to return, they accidentally received intelligence, 
 that an army of 40,000 ^oors was advancing towards 
 them, and was then at no great distance from the camp. 
 The king, though now free from fever, was so excessive- 
 ly feeble, that he fainted while his servant was employed 
 in putting on his armour. His resolution, however, was 
 unalterable ; and, after recovermg from his swoon, he 
 addressed his soldiers in a speech full of enthusiasm, 
 exhorting them to confide in the righteousness of their 
 cause, and in the continuance of that favour which they 
 had hitherto experienced from heaven. Animated by this 
 address, his soldiers were now only solicitous, that, in 
 his present feeble state, he should not expose his per- 
 son in battle ; and he promised to comply with their re- 
 quest. But the whole army was soon thrown into con- 
 sternation, by a report that tlie Moors had poisoned the
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 53 
 
 wells, and enchanted all ihc streams in front of the camp. 
 Tliough a priest of great sanctity was employed to dis- 
 enchant the waters, and a river was consecrated by the 
 name of Jordan, the soldiers not only refused to advance, 
 but resolved immediately to return home. The king- 
 rode through the ranks in the most violent agitation, and 
 conjured them to remember their lormer valour, and 
 the solemn oaths by which they had repeatedly bound 
 themselves to remain true to the cause of their sovereign 
 and their religion. Finding that his arguments produced 
 no efi'ect, he begged, that those who were unwilling to 
 light, would only stand in their places as spectators of 
 the bravery of their comrades. He then ordered the 
 master of the horse, with only five others, to attack the 
 left wing of the enemy ; while he hunself, with a small 
 party of his servants, made a furious onset on the right. 
 His valour was crowned with success. Weak as he 
 then was, he slew with his own hand the two leaders of 
 the right wing; his son, who fought on the left, des- 
 patched another officer of rank ; and the soldiers, 
 ashamed of their conduct, and alarmed for the safety of 
 their valiant monarch, rushed furiously to his rescue. 
 The centre and left wing of the enemy was entirely de- 
 feated ; the right wing, consisting Chiefly of Arabians, 
 ictreated in a body ; but, ignorant of the country, enter- 
 ed a deep valley, surrounded by perpendicular rocks, 
 which were thickly covered with Avood. Amda Sion, 
 perceiving their situation, attacked them with a few of 
 his troops in front, while otners rolled great stones npon 
 them from the top of the rocks ; and thus, being unable 
 either to resist or escape, they all perished to a man. 
 Another division of the army was sent, under the com- 
 mand of the master of the horse, in pursuit of the rest 
 of the Moors. They found these unhappy people, ex- 
 liausted by the fatigues of the combat and of flight, 
 lying by the side of a water, which they lapped like 
 dogs ; and, in this helpless situation, they were slatigh- 
 tered without resistance by the relentless conquerors. 
 Wearied at length with murder, they made prisoners 
 of the few who survived. Among these were Salck 
 king of Mara, and his queen ; the former of whom was 
 hanged by the order of Amda Sion, the latter hewn to 
 pieces by the soldiers, and her body given to the dogs. 
 
 Pursviing his advantages, the Abyssinian monarch 
 advanced still farther into the Mahometan territories, 
 till lie reached the dominions of the king of Adel. That 
 prince, rendered desperate by the devastation of his 
 country, and the prospect of its total ruin, resolved to 
 make one last effort for its preservation. He therefore 
 took the field against the Abyssinians, but conducted 
 himself with less prudence than his own situation ?ind 
 the character of his adversary required. Victory again 
 declared in favour of Amda Sion ; the king of Adel fell 
 in the engagement; and his troops, dispersed in all di- 
 rections, were intercepted by detachments of the Abys- 
 sinian army, which had been placed in ambush to prevent 
 their escape. 
 
 After this disastrous event, the sons of the late king, 
 dismayed by the prospect of inevitable destruction, wait- 
 ed upon Amda Sion with valuable presents ; and, pros- 
 trating themselves in the dust before him, besought him 
 to pardon the injuries which they had committed, and 
 assured him of their readiness to submit to his dominion, 
 provided he would advance no farther into their country, 
 but spare the lives and property of their afflicted sub- 
 jects. The stern conqueror rejected their entreaties 
 with indignation; reproached them with the enorniities 
 
 which they had perpetrated against his Christian sub- 
 jects; told them, that he had proceeded thus far into 
 their kingdom to inllict the punishment (hie to their 
 crimes; and eonunandcd them to return and expect the 
 approach of his army, as he would never turn his back 
 upon Adel, while he had ten men capable of drawing 
 their swords. The two eldest princes, with their uncle, 
 who had accompanied them, were overawed by the- 
 fierce demeanour of the Abyssinian ; but the youngest 
 made a spirited speech, in which he complunented him 
 on his unparalleled valour, and entreated him not to sully 
 his fame by the oppression of a people already con(|uered 
 and defenceless. The only answer he could obtain was, 
 that unless the queen, his mother, with the rest of the 
 royal family, and the principal people of the nation, 
 should surrender themselves next evening at his tent- 
 door, as he had done, he would lay waste the kingdom of 
 Adel, from the place where he then sat, to the Indian 
 Ocean. Rather than submit to such cruel terms, the 
 Adelians resolved to try once more the fortune of war; 
 and bound themselves, by mutual oaths, to stand by each 
 other to the last extremity They informed the young 
 princes of their resolution ; and requested them to seize 
 the first opportunity of escaping from the camp of Amda 
 Sion, and take the command of the army, every man of 
 which was ready to conquer, or die in their cause. Pro- 
 voked by their obstinacy, the Abyssinian monarch divided 
 his army into three detachments ; two of which were 
 commanded to enter the enemy's country by different 
 routes, while he himself marched directly to the spot 
 where the Adelians were encamped. An obstinate en- 
 gagement ensued, in which the young king of Wypo 
 particularly distinguished himself, opposing Amda Sion 
 wherever he appeared, and exhorting his troops to re- 
 main firm to the last. At length, the Abyssinian monarch, 
 observing the exploits of this young warrior, grasped a 
 bow in his hand, and took so just an aim, that he shot 
 him through the middle of the neck, so that, his head 
 declining to one shoulder, he fell dead among his horse's 
 feet. The Adelians, disheaitened by their hero's fall, 
 betook themselves to flight; but, meeting with two de- 
 tachments of Amda Sion's ai'my, they were so com- 
 pletely destroyed, that only three out of 5000 are said 
 to have escaped. Nor had the Abyssinians much cause 
 to rejoice in the victory ; for many of their principal 
 officers were slain, and scarcely one of their horsemen 
 left the field without a wound. 
 
 During the remainder of the campaign, the Abyssi- 
 nians were engaged in destroying the towns and vil- 
 lages, and laying waste the country of tlie Mahome- 
 tans; exercising against these unhappy people every 
 species of cruelty, on pretence of retaliating their inju- 
 ries against the Christians. Weary at length of con- 
 quest and bloodshed, the king returned in triumph to 
 Tegulut, where he died a natural death, after a reign of 
 thirty years ; during which, though almost constantly 
 engaged in war, he never sustained a defeat. 
 
 The reign of Saif Araad, the son and successor of 
 Amda Sion, is distinguished by ro remarkable transac- 
 tion, except his relieving the Cc;;tic patriarch, whom 
 the soldan of Egypt had thrown into prison. 
 
 Theodorus, who occupied the throne from the year 
 1409 to 1412, was the first who retracted the grant of 
 one-third of the kingdom, which Icon Amlac had made 
 to the Abuna. Notwithstanding this infringement, how- 
 ever, on the power of the church, he was so revered by 
 his subjects, for the sanctity of his character, that it is
 
 54 
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 still a prevailing opinion in Abyssinia, that he is to rise 
 again li-om the grave, and reign in his ancicnl kingdom 
 lor a thousand years ; during which pcrioa tlie arms ol 
 the warrior arc to be hung up in the liall, and joy and 
 peace are imiversaily to prevad. 
 
 Nothing important occurs in the liistoryof Abyssinia, 
 from the death of Theoaorus in 1412, tiUZura Jacob as- 
 cended the throne in HSi. The partiality oi his iiistorians 
 has represented this monarch as another Solomon, an 
 exact model of wliat a sovereign snouid be. He was 
 remarkable for his curiosity with regard to the politics, 
 manners, and religion of other countries; and, by his 
 dtsire, an embassy, consisting of priests from the Abys- 
 sinian convent at Jerusalem, was sent to the council of 
 Florence. The Roman pontiff, pleased with an event 
 which seemed to promise the introduction of his spi- 
 ritual sovereignty into the most important kingdom of 
 Africa, ordered a painting to be taken ol' the embassy, 
 which is still to be seen in the Vatican. A convent was 
 obtained for the Abyssinians at Rome, which, though 
 still preserved, is seldom visited by those to whom it is 
 appropriated. A party was henceforth formed m Abys- 
 sinia in favour of the church of Rome ; and, during this 
 reign, began those religious disputes, which rendered 
 the name of Franks, or P'rangi, so odious and danger- 
 ous. 
 
 This perfect sovereign, this model for future princes, 
 was the first who introduced religious persecution into 
 his dominions. The established religion was that of the 
 Greek church ; but it was corrupted, in many places, by 
 iMahometan, and even Pagan superstitions. Some 
 families, accused of worshipping the cow and the ser- 
 pent, were dragged before this zealous monarch, who 
 immediately sentenced them to death. Their execution 
 was followed by a proclamation, that whoever did not 
 wear on his right hand an amulet, with this inscription, 
 " I renounce the devil for Christ our Lord," should for- 
 feit his property, and be liable, besides, to corporal 
 punishment. This persecution, which soon became 
 general throughout the kingdom, was committed to 
 Amda Sion, the Acab Saat, a person whose affected 
 austerity had procured him the confidence of the king, 
 by whom he was so highly distinguished, that, when he 
 appeared abroad, he was attended by a number of sol- 
 diers, with drums, trumpets, and other ensigns of mili- 
 tary dignity. The cruelty of this odious inquisitor was 
 severely reprimanded in a public assembly, by certain 
 priests from Jerusalem; the persecution was suppress- 
 ed, and the king now turned his thoughts from religion 
 to the civil improvement of his dominions. 
 
 The opulence of the Moorish states, arising from their 
 extensive trade, was frequently employed in the pur- 
 poses of rebellion. It became necessary, therefore, to 
 inquire into the circumstances and dispositions of the 
 several governors. With this view he divided the em- 
 pire more distinctly, and, on the frontiers of the Maho- 
 metan states, formed several new governments, which 
 he gave to his Christian soldiers, that they might be 
 ready to check the first tendency to revolt. 
 
 The last transaction which is recorded of this mo- 
 narch, places his character in a very unfavourable light. 
 The queen, impatient to see her son in possession of 
 the throne, had formed the design of obliging Zara Ja- 
 >ob to associate him as his partner in the government. 
 The plot was discovered by her husband, who ordered 
 her to be scourged to death ; and the young prince, who, 
 'hough free from the guilt of her conspiracy, had ven- 
 
 tured to perform the usual solemnities at her ^tzvc. 
 was loaded with irons, and banisned to the lop of a 
 mountain. In this si,^uation, he was saved from death 
 only by the interference of the monks ol Debra Kosse 
 and Dcbra Libarios, who pretended to iiave discovered, 
 by prophecies, visions, and {Ireams, that none but lixda, 
 Mariam should succeed his father on liie throne. 
 
 From the time when the princes of the royal family 
 had been massacred by Judilli, the custom of confining 
 them on a mountain had been disconiinued. But Baeda 
 Mariam was so convinced, by the imprudence of his 
 mother, and his own sufferings, of the necessity of re- 
 viving it, that all his male relations were arrested by 
 his command, and sent prisoners for life to the high 
 mountain of Geshen, on the confines of Begemder and 
 Amhara. Soon after, he undertook an expedition against 
 the Dobas, a barbarous but wealthy race of shepherds, 
 Pagans by religion, who constantly made inroads into 
 his kingdom, and committed the greatest enormities. 
 The king of Adcl had invited these shepherds to send 
 into his dominions their wives, their children, and most 
 valuable effects ; while he himself would cut off the Abys- 
 sinian army from provision. This proposal was made 
 known to Basda Mariam, who, with a large body of horse, 
 took possession of a pass called Fendera, through which 
 they were obliged to march ; and, when they arrived at 
 that place, their whole company was cut to pieces, 
 without distinction of age or sex. After laying waste 
 their comitry, and forcing tliem to renounce their reli- 
 gion, he scut his army against the kingdom of Adcl, 
 where his general obtained a complete victory. But 
 while he himself was hastening towards that country, 
 resolving to reduce it to the lowest state of subjection, 
 he was seized with a sudden illness, which occasioned 
 his death. 
 
 About this time, the Portuguese were extending 
 their discoveries along the coast of Africa, and had al- 
 ready formed the project of opening a passage to India 
 by doubling the Cape. A plan was likewise concerted 
 for penetrating through the interior of the African con- 
 tinent, that, if the former project should fail, the mer- 
 chandise of the East Indies might be conveyed to Por- 
 tugal by land. The success of such a scheme was ren- 
 dered probable by the report of some monks, who had 
 been seen at Jerusalem and Alexandria, the subjects, as 
 they said, of a Christian prince in Africa, whose domi- 
 nions extended froni the eastern to the western ocean. 
 Of the truth of their reports, the Portuguese navigators 
 had been so strongly assured by Bemoy, a king of die 
 Jaloffs,that Henry, the scientific and enterprising prince, 
 under whose auspices these plans of discovery were 
 conducted, resolved to send ambassadors to this unknown 
 sovereign. Peter de Covillan, and Alphonso de Paiva, 
 were appointed to this important embassy, with direc- 
 tions to explore the sources of the Indian trade, and the 
 principal markets for spices ; and, above all, to ascertain 
 the possibility of reaching the East Indies by sailing 
 round the southern extiemity of Africa. Thus instruct- 
 ed, they proceeded to Alexandria, thence to Cairo, next 
 to Suez, and afterwards to Aden, a rich commercial 
 town beyond the Straits of Babelmandcb. They sailed 
 from this city in separate directions ; Covillan for India, 
 and De Paiva for Suakem. De Paiva soon lost his life ; 
 but Covillan, after visiting Calicut and Goa, recrossed 
 the Indian ocean, inspected the mines of Sofala, and re- 
 turned by Aden to Cairo, where he heard of the death of 
 his companion. At Cairo he w as met by .two Jews with
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 55 
 
 ietters from the king of Abyssinia ; one of whom he sent 
 back wiJi IctUi-s to thiu monarch in return, luid, witli 
 the other, proceeded to tlie island of Ormus, in the Per- 
 sian gulf. Here the Jew leftlimi; and Covillan return- 
 ed to Aden, whence he passed into the Abyssinian domi- 
 nions. 
 
 On his arrival in that country, he was kindly received 
 by Alexander the reigning prince, and exalted to the 
 most honourable offices in the state ; though, according 
 to Abyssinian policy, he was never allowed to return to 
 Europe. He lound means, however, to convey, from 
 time to time, important intelligence to the king of Por- 
 tugal. He described the several ports in India which 
 he had seen ; the disposition of the princes ; the situation 
 and riches of the miiies of Sofala. He exhorted the 
 king to pursue, with unremitting diligence, the discove- 
 ry of the passage round Africa ; declaring, that the Cape 
 was well known in India, and that the voyage was at- 
 tended with little danger. To these descriptions he 
 added a chart or map, which he had received from a 
 Moor in India, and in which the Cape, and the cities 
 round the coast, were accurately represented. 
 
 The reign of Alexander was disturbed by frequent 
 rebellions. Called to the throne while a minor, he had 
 displayed, from his earliest years, an ardent desire to 
 make war against the king of Adel ; but that monarch, 
 convinced, by the misfortunes of his predecessors, that 
 he was luiable to cope in the field with such a powerful 
 adversary, endeavoured to gain over a party at the court 
 of Abyssinia. Za-Saluce, the prime minister, with many 
 of the principal nobility, were seduced by his intrigues; 
 and Saluce, being intrusted with the command of great 
 part of the forces, abandoned his master in the heat of 
 an engagement. This treachery seemed only to infuse 
 fresh courage into Alexander, and the few brave troops 
 who remained with him. Engaging in a narrow defile, 
 the king was close pressed by a Moor, who bore the green 
 standard of Mahomet, on whom he turned suddenly, and 
 slew him with his javelin ; then, wresting the colours 
 from him as he fell, with the point of the spear that bore 
 the ensign, he struck the king of Adel's son to the 
 ground ; on which the Moors retreated from the field. 
 He then returned in pursuit of Za-Saluce, who had has- 
 tened, by forced marches, to Amhara, exciting the spi- 
 rit of revolt in the governors of the provinces through 
 which he passed. Two days after his return to the capi- 
 tal, the young monarch fell a victim to the perfidy of 
 his minister. The traitor soon met with the punishment 
 due to his crimes; for, while attempting to excite a re- 
 volt in Amhara, he was attacked by the nobility of that 
 province, and, being deserted by his troops, was taken 
 prisoner withovit resistance : his eyes were puL out ; and, 
 being mounted on an ass, he was carried through Am- 
 hara and Shoa, amidst the curses and derision of the 
 people. 
 
 On the death of Alexander's infant son, which hap- 
 ■pened seven months after, Naad, his younger brother, 
 was called, by the unanimous voice of the people, to the 
 throne. His wisdom was coaspicuously disp;:iycd in 
 the first act of his reign. He published a prcjciamation, 
 offering a general pardon to all who had been ci;;;aged 
 in the late rebellion ; and prohibiting, under pain of 
 death, any one from upbraiding his noighbour with his 
 fonner disloyalty. On assuming tne govcrnnant, he 
 found himself engaged in a war which djma;'.d'-d his 
 most vigorous exertions. Ms-ffudi, prince of Arar, a 
 iJistrict in the neighbourhood of Adel, a man of a war- 
 
 like disposition, and an enthusiastic Mahometan, had 
 made a vow to spend forty days every year, during the 
 lime of Lent, in some part oi Abyssinia. The supersti- 
 tion of the people facilitated his progress; for they ob- 
 served that fast so rigidly as to exhaust tlieir strengtli j 
 insomuch that Mafl'udi had continued for thirty years to 
 ravage the country, during that period, without opposir 
 tion, and was now regarded as invincible. Naad com- 
 manded his soldiers to continue their usual manner of 
 living, without regarding the fast; and, when his enemy 
 advanced with his wonted confidence of success, his army- 
 was entirely ditto pieces. 
 
 Having thus removed the terrors of invasion, Naad 
 employed the remainder of his days in reforming the 
 manners of his subjects; and, after reigning thirteen 
 years, was succeeded by his son David III. then only 
 eleven years of age. Early in this reign, the Turks, 
 with a view of sharing the profits of the trade carried on 
 in Adel by merchants who had fled from their own op- 
 pressions in India, took possession of Zeyla, a small 
 island in the Red Sea, where they erected a customhouse 
 and oppressed and ruined, as usual, the commerce of the 
 adjacent coasts. Both Adel and Abyssinia were thus 
 menaced by a formidable enemy, who was prevented 
 from overwhelming them only by his attempts to obtain 
 possession of India. In this emergency, Helena, the 
 queen-regent, wished to enter into an alliance with the 
 Portuguese; and, by the advice of Peter Covillan, an 
 Armenian merchant named Matthew, with a young 
 Abyssinian, were sent on an embassy for that purpose 
 to the court of Lisbon. The merchant, though raised 
 to the rank of ambassador, could not sustain the dignity 
 of his new character. AtDabul, in the East Indies, he was 
 seized as a spy ; and, though relieved by Albuquerque, 
 viceroy of Goa, he was not allowed to depart for 
 Portugal till 1513, three years after his arrival in India. 
 He was insulted by the shipmasters with whom he sail- 
 ed for that country; but, on his arrival at Lisbon, he was 
 received with every mark of respect: the shipmasters 
 were loaded with irons, and would probably have died 
 in prison, had not Matthew interceded in their behalf 
 
 The Prince of Arar, having recovered from the de- 
 feat which he iiaa suffered from Naaa, and increased 
 his power by alliances with the Turks in Arabia, had 
 renewed his annual incursions into Abyssinia with great- 
 er success than before. In return for the multitude of 
 slaves which he had sent to Mecca, he was made sheyhk 
 of Zeyla, which maybe considered the key to the Abys- 
 sinian dominions ; and the king of Adel had been indu- 
 ced, by his success, to enter into a league with him 
 against that empire, which he had always regarded with 
 a very unfriendly eye. Accordingly, they invaded Abys- 
 sinia with their united forces, and committed such devas- 
 tation as spread terror through the whole country. To 
 revenge these injuries, David, then a youth of sixteen, 
 levied a powerful army, by a judicious disposition of 
 which, he hemmed in the Moors among some narrow 
 defiles, where they could not hazard an engagement 
 witliout certain destruction. To add to their consterna- 
 tion, Mafiudicame to the king of Adel, and assured hiin 
 that his time was now come ; that he had been v/arned 
 long before, by a prophecy, tliat if in this year (1516,) 
 he should encounter the king of Abyssinia in person, 
 he should certainly die. He therefore advised him to 
 retreat, as speedily as possible, over the least difiicult 
 part of the mountain, before the battle should commence. 
 The Adtlian, already dismayed by the situation of his
 
 56 
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 anny,\villinigly rollo\vcci his advice ; and Maffudi,as soon 
 as he supposed his ally beyond the roach oi' danger, sent 
 a tnessage to the Abyssinian camp, challenging any 
 man of quality to fight him in single combat, on condition 
 that the party of the victorious champion should be ac- 
 counted conquerors, and that both armies should imme- 
 diately separate without further bloodshed. A monk, 
 named Gabriel Andreas, instantly accepted the chal- 
 lenge ; and, when the combatants met, Maffudi received 
 from his antagonist such a violent stroke with a two- 
 handed sword, as almost severed his body in two. An- 
 dreas cut off his head ; and, throwing it at the king's 
 feet, exclaimed, " There is the Goliah of the Infi-dcls !" 
 Notwithstanding the terms stipulated before the combat, 
 a general engagement ensued, in which tlie Moors were 
 completely discomfited. 
 
 On the same day (in the month of July 1516) Zeyla 
 was taken, and its to\i n burnt by the Portuguese fleet, 
 under Lopez Suarez de Alberguiera. On board this 
 fleet was Matthew, the Abyssinian ambassador, who had 
 been treated, during his residence in Portugal, with the 
 highest respect, and the most flattering attention. Splen- 
 did lodgings were assigned him, with a magnificent 
 equipage, and a suitable maintenance ; and, on his re- 
 turn, he was accompanied by an ambassador from the 
 court of Lisbon to the Abyssinian king. This ambassa- 
 dor was Edward Galvan, a man who had filled the most 
 important state departments with great applause, but 
 whose advanced age (for he was now a6) rendered him 
 surely very unfit for a voyage so_ distant and perilous. 
 As might liave been foreseen, he died on the island of 
 Camaran, in the Red Sea, where Suarez had imprudent- 
 ly wintered, in the utmost distress for want of provisions. 
 Suarez was superseded by Lopez de Segueyra, who, 
 sailing first to the island of Goa, returned with a strong 
 fleet to the Red Sea, and landed at Masuah, an island 
 belonging to Abyssinia. At the approach of this fleet 
 the inhabitants fled ; but when it had remained for some 
 days off Masuah without committing hostilities, a Chris- 
 tian and a Moor ventured to come from the continent, 
 who informed Segueyra, that the land opposite to Ma- 
 ■ 8uah was part of Abyssinia ; adding, tliat the uihabitants 
 were Christians, and that the reason why they fled at 
 the appearance of the fleet was their dread of the Turks, 
 who frequently made descents, and ravaged the coast. 
 The adjniral, overjoyed at this intelligence, dismissed 
 them with presents, and was soon after visited by the 
 governor of Arkeeko, who informed him, that seven 
 monks were deputed to wait on him from the monaste- 
 ry of Bisan, about twenty-four miles up the country. 
 These monks, on their aiTival, instantly recognised 
 Matthew, and congratulated him warmly on his return. 
 Lopez had next an interview with the Baharnagash, who 
 informed him that the arrival of the Portuguese had been 
 long expected in consequence of ancient prophecies; 
 and that he himself, and all the officers of the king, 
 were ready to serve him. Mutual presents were ex- 
 changed, and an embassy was prepared by the admiral 
 to be sent to the court. Don Roderigo de Lima, who 
 was appointed ambassador instead of Galvan, who had 
 died, was accompanied by a small company of resolute 
 men, willing to ur^dergo any hardship or danger for the 
 glory of their king, and the honour of their country. 
 Their present jotirney required all their constancy. Be- 
 fore they could reach the king, they had to cross the 
 whole extent of the empire, over rugged mountains, 
 and through woods almost impervious, interwoven with 
 
 briers and thorns, and infested with innumerable wild 
 beasts. Their reception but ill requited the toils ol 
 their journey. De Lima, instead of gaining an imme- 
 diate audience of the king, was waited upon by an offi- 
 cer, called Hadug Ras, who ordered him to pitch his 
 tent three miks larther from the camp; and it was not 
 till three years aftenvards that he obtained leave to de- 
 part. After that long interval, David determuied to 
 send an embassy to Portugal, and dismissed Roderigo 
 with an Abyssinian monk, nanied Zaga Zaab, whom lit 
 appointed his own ambassador. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Mahometans v, ere alarmed by this 
 long intei'course between two such distant nations, to 
 both of which they were equally inimical. An alliance 
 was formed between the kuig of Adel, and the Turks in 
 Arabia; and the Adelians thus reinforced, and being 
 trained by their new allies to the use of fire-arms, then 
 unknown to the Abyssinians, defeated David in every 
 engagement, and hunted him, like a wild beast, from 
 place to place. Mahomet, surnamed Gragiie, or Ic/t- 
 /lamlcd, who commanded the Turkish army, sent a mes- 
 sage to the king, exhorting him to desist from fighting 
 against God, to make peace while it was yet in his power, 
 and to give him his daughter in marriage, otherwise he 
 would reduce his kingdom to such a state as to be ca- 
 pable of producing nothing but grass. The spirited 
 monarch, yet unsubdued by his misfortunes, would listen 
 to no terms pix)posed by an infidel and a blasphemer. 
 Frequent encounters succeeded, in which David was 
 constantly worsted ; in one engagement his eldest son 
 was killed; in another his youngest was taken prisoner; 
 and he himself, destitute and forlorn, was forced to wan- 
 der about on foot, skulking among the bushes on the 
 mountains. Struck with admiration of his heroism, and 
 with compassion for his misfortunes, many of liis veteran 
 soldiers sought him out in his retreat, and with these he 
 gained some slight advantages, which served to revive 
 the spirits of himself and his followers. But his enemies 
 were too powerful to be resisted with any probability ot 
 final success, and the king, in this hopeless situation, be- 
 gan to turn his thoughts seriously towards Portugal. 
 
 John Bermudes, one of Rodcrigo's attendants, who 
 had been detained in Abyssinia, was chosen as ambas- 
 sador to his native monarch, with the additional dignity 
 of Abuna. Bigoted to the Roman catholic religion, he 
 refused to accept of this new office, unless his ordina- 
 tion should be approved by the pope ; — a provision to 
 wlijch, though it virtually submitted the church of 
 Abyssinia to tliat of Rome, David was induced, by the 
 necessity of his aff'airs to comply. On his arrival at 
 Lisbon, Bermudes ordered Zaga Zaab to be put in irons 
 for neglecting the interests of his master ; and repre- 
 sented so strongly the distresses of the Abyssinians, tliat 
 he soon obtained an order for 400 musketeers to be 
 sent to their relief, under Don Garcia de Noronha. He 
 would have sailed along with Don Garcia to accelerate 
 tlie progress of the fleet, but was detained a whole year 
 by sickness, occasioned, he suspected, by poison given 
 him by Zaga Zaab, whom the king had set at liberty. 
 Another delay was occasioned by the death of Don Gar. 
 cia. At length it was resolved that Don Stephen de 
 Gama, who had succeeded to Noronha, should sail to 
 the Arabian gulf, in order to secure some Turkish ves- 
 sels which then lay at Suez. Finding that the vessels 
 had been withdrawn before his arrival, he anchored in 
 the port of Masuah, and sent some boats to Arkeeko for 
 water and provisions j but tliat coast was now in posses-
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 57 
 
 bion of the Moors, who seized Uic goods which he had 
 sent in exchange for the desired supplies, and dismissed 
 the boats without any thing in return. A message was 
 afterwards sent to Don Stephen, importing, that if he 
 would make peace with the king of Adel, who was now 
 master of all Ethiopia, his goods should be restored, and 
 his fleet plentifully supplied with water and provisions 
 of every kind. Don Stephen, aware of the perfidy of 
 this proposal, accepted it with seeming pleasure ; pro- 
 mised to cortie ashore as soon as the festival, which the 
 Mahometans were then celebrating, should be ended, 
 sent more goods, and obtained as much provisions as 
 he required. No sooner were they on board, than he 
 Strictly prohibited all intercourse with the shore, and, 
 selecting 600 of his best men, attacked the town of Ar- 
 keeko, massacred all the people he met with, and sent 
 the head of the governor to the Abyssinian court. 
 
 A new monarch had ascended the throne of that king- 
 dom. During the wars which David carried on with 
 the Moors, a Mahometan chief, named Vizir Mugdid, 
 had attacked the rock of Gcshen, the state prison of the 
 royal family, and, ascending it without opposition, put all 
 the princes to the sword. The heart of this heroic mo- 
 narch could not stand this disaster, and he died in the 
 same year (1540). His son Claudius, who succeeded 
 him, though then only 18 years of age, possessed all the 
 great qualities necessary in the dreadful exigencies of 
 his kingdom; and, before the arrival of the Portuguese, 
 liad already made considerable progress against his ene- 
 mies. He frustrated a league which they had formed 
 against him in the beginning of his reign ; obliged them 
 to desist from pillage ; defeated them in a general en- 
 gagement; and, having intelligence of a design formed 
 against his life by one of his own governors, decoyed 
 the traitor into an ambush, and slew the greater part of 
 his army. 
 
 Such was the situation of affairs when Don Stephen 
 de Gama came to the assistance of the Abyssinians. 
 The number of men whom the king of Portugal had al- 
 lotted to this service, ainounted to 450; but the officers 
 were men of the first rank, by whose retinue the army 
 was considerablv increased. A general ardour for this 
 enterprise prevailed in the fleet; and the bay, where 
 they were moored, has received, from the murmurs of 
 those who were detained on board, the name of Bahia 
 dos Agravados — the Bay of the Injured. 
 
 This small but gallant army set out without delay, 
 under the command of Don Christopher do Gama, 
 youngest brother of the admiral. They were met on 
 their march by the queen, attended by her two sisters, 
 and many others of both sexes ; and, after a mutual ex- 
 change of civilities, the queen returned, escorted by 100 
 musketeers, whom the general had appointed as her 
 guard. After marching eight days through a very rug- 
 ged country, Don Christopher received from Gragne a 
 very insulting defiance, which he retiirned in a similar 
 tone. A battle was fought, in which the Moor, though 
 greatly superior in horse, got such a convincing speci- 
 men of Portuguese valour, that he did not choose, on 
 that occasion, to venture a second engagement. 
 
 The Portuguese, owing to the advanced state of the 
 season, had now retired into winter quarters ; while 
 Gragne, having received powerful reinforcements to his 
 army, wished to bring them to action before they should 
 be joined by the king. Hurried away by his natural 
 impetuosity, Don Christopher resolved, in opposition to 
 the remonstrances of his most skilful officers, to venture 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 an engagement, though at prodigious disadvantage. 
 The superiority of the Portuguese, however, was still so 
 Q-rcat, that they seemed likely to obtain the victory, till 
 tneir general, rashly exposing himself, was wounded in 
 the arm by a musket ball. Confusion and defeat ensued ; 
 and the barbarians, obtaining possession of the camp, 
 began to violate the women, who had all retired into the 
 general's tent. On this, an Abyssinian lady, who had 
 married one of the Portuguese, set fire to some barrels 
 of gunpowder which stood in the tent, and thus perished 
 with the ravishers. 
 
 Don Christopher, disdaining to fly, was forced into a 
 litter, and carried ofl' the field. At the approach of 
 night, he entered a cave to have his wound dressed, but 
 obstinately refused to proceed farther. Betrayed by a 
 woman whom he loved, he was seized next day by a 
 party of the enemy, and carried in triumph to Gragne, 
 who, after many mutual insults, struck off his head, 
 which was sent to Constantinople, while his body was 
 cut to pieces, and dispersed through Abyssinia. 
 
 The cruelty of this barbarian proved more detrimental 
 to his cause, than if he had been completely defeated. 
 The Portuguese, exasperated by the loss of their gene- 
 ral, were ready to undergo any danger to revenge his 
 death ; while the Turks, irritated by an action which de- 
 prived them of Don Christopher's ransom, abandoned 
 their leader, and returned to their own country. Gragne, 
 thus deserted, was easily defeated by Claudius; and in 
 a subsequent battle, fought on the lOth of February, 
 1543, his army was routed, and he himself slain by a 
 Portuguese, named Peter Lyon, who had been Don 
 Christopher's valet dc chambre. Gragne's wife and son, 
 with Nur, the son of Mugdid, who destroyed the royal 
 family, fell into the hands of Claudius ; and happy had 
 it been for that monarch if he had immediately ordered 
 them to execution. 
 
 Relieved from all fear of external enemies, the atten- 
 tion of Claudius was now occupied by affairs of religion. 
 Bermudes, a turbulent bigot, insisted that the king 
 should embrace the doctrines of the Roman church, and 
 establish that religion throughout his dominions. Clau- 
 dius rejected with indignation such an insolent request, 
 and a violent altercation ensued between the Abunaand 
 the sovereign. Matters would have proceeded to the 
 worst extremities, had not C'laudius been prevented 
 from revenging the insults of the patriarch, by a wish la 
 conciliate the Portuguese, from whose continuance in 
 the country he expected the greatest advantages. Arius 
 Dias, their commander, had been persuaded, by the 
 king's influence, to renounce the Roman catholic reli- 
 gion, and be baptized into that of Abyssinia by the name 
 of Marcus, or Marco ; in consequence of which, he was 
 regarded as a naturalized subject, and honoured with 
 the most distinguished marks of royal favour. The 
 quarrel with Bermudes bccomiug every day more vio- 
 lent, the king deprived him or all authority over the 
 Portuguese ; to whom he intimated, that, as he had ap- 
 pointed Marco his captain-general, he expected they 
 wotild obey him alone during their residence in Abyssi- 
 nia. Indignant at this declaration, which, in fact, sub- 
 jected them to the power which they had come to pro- 
 tect, the Portuguese resolved to die sword in hand, 
 rather than submit to such degrading terms. Claudius, 
 having in vain attempted to force them to compliance, 
 had next recourse to artifice; declared his regret for 
 the violent measures he had used, and his readiness to 
 make any compensation for the wrongs which they might 
 
 H
 
 58 
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 have sufi'ercd. In the mean time, by ordering his sub- 
 jects to supply them with no provisions, and bribing 
 them with great sums of gold, he found means to 
 weaken them eftectually, by dispersing their leaders into 
 difl'crent parts of the kingdom. The result of this quarrel 
 was, that, without any absolute enmity between the king 
 and the Portuguese, Bermudes was persuaded to with- 
 draw to India ; to which place he at length effected his 
 escape, after skulking for two years, forlorn and despis- 
 ed, in a kingdom where he had aspired to equal power 
 with the sovereign. 
 
 Claudius had scarcely got rid of this turbulent ec- 
 clesiastic, when a new deputation of priests arrived iu 
 his dominions. The Pope, anxious to establish his 
 power in Abyssinia, had invested Nugnez Barctto, of 
 the new order of Jesuits, with the dignity of patriarch 
 of that country, and sent him to attempt the conversion 
 of Claudius and his subjects. 
 
 Barctto, on arriving at Goa, was informed, that the 
 Abyssinian monarch was so hostile to the church of 
 Rome, that there was no probability of his being fa- 
 vourably received. The patriarch, therefore, rather 
 than expose his own sacred dignity to the danger of m- 
 sult, thought proper to commission some inferior cler- 
 gymen as ambassadors to the king. Accordingly, 
 Oviedo, bishop of llierapolis, Carneyro, bishop of Nice, 
 with several other dignitaries, arrived on this errand at 
 Masuah, in the year 1538, and met with a more favoura- 
 ble reception than they had reason to expect. But the 
 thoughts of Claudius were then occupied about the 
 more important concern of appointing a successor to his 
 throne. He had no son, and his younger brother had 
 been taken by the Moors, during his father's reign, and 
 imprisoned on a high mountain in Adel. His ransom 
 appeared difhcult, and would perhaps have been found 
 impossible, had not a son of the famous Gragne been at 
 the same time a prisoner in Abyssinia ; by releasing 
 whom, and paying besides four thousand ounces of gold, 
 Claudius at length procured tlie restoration of his brother. 
 Nur, the son of Mugdid, had become passionately 
 enamoured of the widow of Gragne ; but she refused to 
 give hixn her hand, till he should present her with the 
 head of Claudius, the murderer of her former husband. 
 The lover willingly undertook the task, and challenged 
 the Abyssinian monarch while marching towards Adel. 
 Claudius was not of a disposition to decline the combat, 
 though it had been prophesied that he should die in this 
 campaign. His soldiers, more alarmed by the predic- 
 tion, abandoned their monarch in the commencement of 
 tlie battle; v.diile attended by only 18 Portuguese and 
 30 horsemen of Abyssinia, he fought with the most 
 heroic bravery, till at last he fell, completely covered 
 with wounds. His head was cut off, and brought by Nur 
 to his mistress, who hung it up on a tree before her 
 door, where it remained, for three years. 
 
 After this fatal engagement, which took place on the 
 'J2d of March 1559, Menas ascended the throne without 
 opposition. During the greater part of his reign he was 
 engaged in war with his own subjects, who were in- 
 stigated to rebellion by the popish missionaries. The 
 insolence of these ecclesiastics at last provoked the king 
 to banish them to a barren and solitary mountain, inclu- 
 ding in their sentence all the rest of the Europeans ; 
 an insult which they resented so hic:hly, that they im- 
 mediately went over to the rebels. Their united forces 
 were defeated by Menas, 'uit the victory was by no 
 means so decisive as to put an end to the rebellion. 
 
 Afte. a turbulent reign of four years, Menas was suc- 
 ceeded by his son, Sertza Dcnghel,a boy of 12 years of 
 age. This prince was engaged in almost perpetual 
 conflicts with the Galla, the lalasha, and the Moors, in 
 which he was generally victorious. During his reign 
 the Roman Catholics were unmolested, though such a 
 strong prejudice had been excited against them in the 
 minds both of the king and his subjects, that they 
 never ventured to appear at court, nor were permitted 
 to serve in the army. His last expedition was against 
 some rebels who had begun to excite conmiotions in 
 the province of Damot. A priest, revered for his sanc- 
 tity and skill in divination, had warned him, in vain, 
 not to proceed in this enterprise ; and, when he found 
 the warlike monarch obstinate in his purpose, he only 
 requested him not to eat of the fish of a certain river : 
 this advice also was despised; and Sertza Denghel 
 died in consequence of eating these fish, which were of 
 a poisonous quality. 
 
 A violent dispute now arose about the succession to 
 the throne. In the first stage of his sickness, the late 
 king had nominated his son Jacob as his successor, 
 though then a boy of only seven years of age ; but as 
 he felt his dissolution approaching, he gave the prefer- • 
 ence to his nephew Za Denghel, w ho had reached the 
 years of manhood, and had already displayed the ac- 
 tivity and talents necessary for governing a turbulent 
 people. This appoijitment gave great offence to the 
 queen, and to ma;iy ol the principal nobility, who had ex- 
 pected to engross, during the minority of Jacob, all the 
 power and prerogatives of the crown. Regardless, 
 therefore, of Sertza Denghel's will, the queen, in con- 
 junction with Kesla Wahad and Ras Athanasius, her 
 sons-m-law, immediately proclaimed the mfant Jacob 
 king, and confined Za Denghel to an island in the lake 
 Tzana. An attempt was made at the same time to 
 seize the person of Socinios, the natural son of Facilidas, 
 who might likewise have pretended a right to the 
 throne ; but alamied by the fate of Za Denghel, Socinios 
 had withdrawn from the power of his enemies ; and Za 
 Denghel himself soon found means to escape, and took 
 refuge among the inaccessible mountains of Gojam, 
 Jacob continued till the age of seventeen a passive tool 
 in the hands of his tutors ; but finding that they still 
 wished to prolong their dominion over him, he took the 
 government into his own hands, and banished one of their 
 number to the kingdom of Narea. By this bold exer- 
 cise of power, he so alarmed and exasperated his tutors, 
 that they immediately entered into a conspiracy to de- 
 pose him, and to raise his rival, Za Denghel, to the 
 throne. So effectually had the latter concealed his re- 
 treat, that he was not discovered without much difficulty. 
 Jacob, finding that his fall was determined, fled from 
 his palace with precipitation ; but, being overtaken on 
 the borders of Samen, he was brought back to the new 
 sovereign, who, with a clemency unusual in Abyssinia, 
 contented himself with banishing him for life to Narea. 
 No sooner was Za Denghel established on the tlirone, 
 than he gave great offence to his subjects by his avowed 
 attachment to the church of Rome. 
 
 The catholic missionaries were now all dead, and 
 their religion was languishing for want of support, when 
 Peter Paez, a man of prudence and talents, was sent 
 on this mission, and arrived in Abyssinia in the year 
 1600. Instead of intruding himself immediately into 
 the royal presence, Paez quietly took up his residence 
 at the convent of Fremona, wisely judging, that the
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 59 
 
 most ccrtam method of succeeding in the grand object 
 of his mission, was to recommcncl himself, by his utility 
 and conciliating deportment, to the people whom he had 
 come to convert. With this view, he applied assiduous- 
 ly to the study of the Geez, or learned language of 
 the Abyssiniaus ; and, having soon attained such pro- 
 ficiency as to surpass tlie natives themselves, he opened 
 a school, to which Ponuguese and Abyssinians were 
 admitted promixuously. The rapid progress of his 
 scholars acquired him general applause ; and, four 
 years after his arrival, he was sent lor by the king, who 
 honoured him with the most distinguished attention and 
 regard. Tv/oof his pupils, whom he had brought along 
 with him, vanquished, m a religious dispute, the ablest 
 theologians of the kuigdom ; and Paez himself, after 
 celebrating mass, pronounced a sermon in the Geez 
 language, admired for its eloquence and the purity of 
 its diction. So powerful was the effect which it pro- 
 duced on Za Dengliel, already partial to the church of 
 Rome, that he immediately embraced the catholic re- 
 ligion, issued proclamations forbidding the observance 
 of the Jewish Sabbath, and wrote letters to pope Cle- 
 ment VIII. and Philip III. of Spain, requesting them 
 to send mechanics to instruct his people m the arts, and 
 Jesuits to teach them divinity. 
 
 The Abyssinians, ever prone to revolt, and less easily 
 converted than their sovereign, were instantly in arms. 
 A traitor, named Za Sclasse, under pretence of religious 
 zeal, prevailed on the Abitna to excommunicate Za 
 Denghel, and absolve his subjects from their allegiance. 
 He then proceeded to Gojam, a province remarkable 
 for its aversion to the catholics, where multitudes of 
 rebels flocked round his standard, eager to vindicate 
 the established religion of their country, against the in- 
 novations of foreigners, and the prejudices of their king. 
 Za Denghel on his part was equally zealous ; and, 
 being naturally fond of war, hastened to meet the rebels 
 with what forces he could raise. His troops, who 
 thought themselves under no obligation of fidelity to an 
 excommunicated monarch, deserted him in great num- 
 bers on his march ; and even those who followed him to 
 the field, left him in the heat of battle, surrounded by 
 his enemies, by whom, after performing prodigies of 
 valour, he was overpowered and slain. However un- 
 popular his attachment to the church of Rome may 
 have rendered this prince while alive, the report of his 
 death, and particularly of the heroism which he displayed 
 in the fatal engagement, excited against the rebels such 
 a general indignation, that they did not venture to name 
 any successor to the vacant throne. 
 
 Socinios, called also Susnus, and Melee Segued, was 
 already in possession of the empire ; and, advancing 
 rapidly with a mighty army, compelled the Ras Athana- 
 sius to acknowledge him as sovereign, and join him 
 with the forces imder his command. When he made 
 a similar proposal to Za Selasse, that traitor first amu- 
 sed him with an equivocal answer, and then marched 
 against him with his whole army ; while Socinios, hap- 
 pening to fall sick, and being unable to confide in Atha- 
 nasius, withdrew to the mountains of Amhara. Za 
 Selasse opposed Socinios, in the expectation that Jacob 
 would revive his pretensions to the crown, under whom 
 he hoped to enjoy all the privileges of sovereignty. A 
 messenger at length arrived from Jacob's camp, inform- 
 ing Selasse that he was then in Dembea, and promising 
 him the highest honours if he would acknowledge and 
 support his claim. The traitor readily complied ; but 
 
 happening soon after to he defeated by Socinios, with 
 the loss of the greater part of his army, he was coldly 
 received by Jacob, and inmiediately revolted to his 
 rival. Jacob, who was now joined by Athanasius, pos- 
 sessed an army said to have amounted to thirty times 
 the number of that of Socinios ; but, being drav/n by 
 that experienced general into a disadvantageous situa- 
 tion, his army was defeated with great slaughter, and he 
 himself perished in the field. 
 
 Socinios, thus established on the throne, showed him- 
 self as much inclined as his predecessor to favour the 
 Portuguese. By intermarriages with the natives, and 
 by training theii- sons to war, they had now increased 
 to a numerous army, formidable for their valour, and 
 their superior military skill. It was therefore the in- 
 terest of the sovereign to attach them as much as pos- 
 sible to his cause ; and, as Socinios well understood 
 that this could only be effected by honouring their 
 priests, and favouring their religion, he invited Peter 
 Paez to court; heard him dispute on the supremacy of 
 the Pope, and the double nature of Christ, and deliver 
 a sermon so eloquent and impressive, that he immedi- 
 ately professed his belief in the doctrmes which the 
 patriarch had so ably illustrated ; enlarged the territory 
 of the Jesuits at Fremona ; and delivered to Paez two 
 letters, one addressed to the Pope, acknowledging his 
 supremacy, the other to the king of Portugal, request- 
 ing a new supply of troops to deliver Abyssinia from the 
 inciu'sions of tlie Galla. 
 
 Soon after these transactions, the king's attention was 
 called from matters of religion, to a rebellion which had 
 already made considerable progress. As the body of 
 Jacob, who fell in the late engagement, had never been 
 found, an impostor, assuming his name, appeared among 
 the mountains of Habab, pretending to have been so 
 dreadfully wounded in the face, that he kept one side of 
 it constantly covered to conceal its deformity. His 
 story obtained general credit, and multitudes flocked to 
 his standard; but, whether from his incapacity to sup- 
 port the imposture, or his deficiency in the qualifica- 
 tions of a general, they were dispersed on the first ap- 
 pearance of the royal army ; the posts which he had 
 taken were successively stormed, till, driven from place 
 to place, he at last effected his retreat into his native 
 mountains. But the spirit of rebellion, instead of being- 
 quelled by the vigorous activity of the royalists, seemed 
 to have diffused itself throughout the whole province of 
 Tigre ; so that Sela Christos, the governor, who had al- 
 ready dispersed the im.postor's army, found it necessary 
 to acquaint his brother Socinios with the state of affairs, 
 and to recjuest his assistance. Most of the troops had 
 been sent on an expedition against the Shangalla and 
 Gongas ; yet the king set out immediately for Tigre 
 with the scanty force which he could muster on this 
 emergency. Hearing, as he advanced, that a party of 
 Galla had posted themselves on a neighbouring hill, he 
 determined to surround them., and thus cut off their re- 
 treat ; but his cavalry, whom he had sent to reconnoitre 
 their situation, were attacked in passing a deep ravme, 
 and almost entirely destroyed ; while the rest of the ar- 
 my were seized with sucli terror, that they refused to 
 proceed. The Galla, eager to improve their advantage, 
 rushed forward to attack them. Socinios, advancing 
 alone, slew the first that opposed him, and his troops, 
 ashamed of their cowardice, and animated by their 
 monarch's example, fell furiously on the enemy, and 
 obtained a decisive victory. The coun^rfeit Jacob. 
 H 2
 
 60 
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 venturing again to take tlic iicld, was defeated by So- 
 cinios with a much inferior force ; and the Gallu, wlio 
 liad committed dreadful excesses in the southern pro- 
 vinces, were surrounded by the king's army, and com- 
 pletely cut to pieces. The imposLor was soon after 
 assassinated, and found to be no other than a herdsman 
 from the mountains, to which he had always fled for re- 
 fuge, who had covered his face, in reality disfigured by 
 no scar, to conceal his want of resemblance to tlie prince, 
 whose character he had assumed. 
 
 Scarcely was this rebellion suppressed, when an- 
 other of a more alarming nature was excited by one 
 Melchisedec, who had been a servant of Sertza Deng- 
 hel, and possessed considerable knowledge of military 
 affairs. Sanuda, a brave officer, who had been sent to 
 oppose him, lost the whole of his army in a single en- 
 gagement ; while he himself escaped with difficulty, af- 
 ter receiving many wounds. Socinios, after this dis- 
 aster, sent his brother Emana Christos with a considera- 
 ble army, to reduce this formidable traitor. The well- 
 known valour and abilities of Kmana Christos could not 
 remove the terror which the rebel forces had diffused 
 throughout the coimtry. To sanction his cause, Mel- 
 chisedec had got into his possession a prince of the 
 blood royal, named Arzo, whom he proclaimed king ; 
 after which he boldly advanced to meet the royal army. 
 The combat was obstuiate and bloody ; victory seemed 
 even to declare for the rebels ; till Melchisedec, seeing 
 Emar.a Cliristos pushing furiously to the place where 
 he stood, fled with the utmost precipitation. But his cow- 
 ardice availed him nothing ; for he was soon overtaken 
 by the peasants, and executed, with many of his prin- 
 cipal officers, in the manner due to their crimes. 
 
 The spirit of rebellion now pervaded the kingdom ; 
 the flames of war were kindled in eveiy quarter ; and 
 atrocities perpetrated on both sides, the recital of which 
 would be alike unprofitable and disgusting. The Gon- 
 gas, the Agows, the Galla, and the Jews, who support- 
 ed the pretensions of another impostor, were succes- 
 sively conquered. Extirpation was the principle on 
 which hostilities werp conducted ; a principle which the 
 king, inflamed with religious zeal, exerted in its utmost 
 severity against the Jews. Few of that unhappy people 
 escaped from the general massacre ; their children were 
 sold into captivity ; and those who were allowed to sur- 
 vive, were scattered throughout the empire, compelled 
 to renounce their religion for Christianity, and, in token 
 of their sincerity, to labour publicly on the day which 
 they had been accustomed to regard with scrupulous 
 veneration. 
 
 During these commotions, Paez continued to labour 
 with unremitting assiduity for the conversion of the 
 Abyssinians to the catholic faith. No man could have 
 been better qualified for such an undertaking. With 
 extensive learning, he possessed likewise eminent skill 
 in the mechanical arts; and such an intimate acquain- 
 tance with human nature, as enabled him to convert 
 these attainments to the best advantage. He instruct- 
 ed the Abyssinians in the art of building ; and, with 
 incredible labour, erected churches and palaces, which 
 could not fail to be viewed with delight and astonish- 
 ment by these rude barbarians. While his genius was 
 thus revered, his amiable manners conciliated affection; 
 presenting a contrast, too striking to be overlooked, to 
 the ignorance and brutality of his antagonists. His suc- 
 cess was such as he was intilled to expect. Scla Chris- 
 tos, the king's brother, became a zealous catholic ; the 
 
 piinc'.pal people in the kingdom followed his example ; 
 and wlien Simon, tne Abyssnuan patriarch, was admit- 
 ted, at his own request, to discuss with Paez the doc- 
 trines of their respective churches, in the presence of 
 the knig, the inferiority of the Abuna was so apparent, 
 thatSocniios thought iiunself warranted to make a pub- 
 lic avowal ol his ueliel m the catholic doctrines, for which 
 he liad alieady siiowu a sirong predilection. 
 
 While the labours oi Paez were thus successful, let- 
 ters arrived from iiie pope and kmg of Spain, exhoiting 
 Socinios to continue hi in to the Roman church, and en- 
 couraging ium wiiii liie assurance, not of any tempoi-al 
 support, but of the fir superior aid of the Holy Spirit. 
 A rciiilorcemeiit of soldiers would have been as accepta- 
 ble ; yet the king, thinking pernaps he had advanced too 
 far to recede, resolved to submit in form to his Holi- 
 ness, and immediately appointed ambassadors to convey 
 this important intelligence to Europe. To this embassy 
 Antonio t'ernandez was chosen by lot ; and taking Fecur 
 Egzie as his companion, he set out in the beginning of 
 March Ifil.". As the provmccs in the neighbourhood of 
 Masuah were then in a state of rebellion, the ambassa- 
 dors were obliged to pass through Narca and the 
 southern provinces to Melinda, whence they might sail 
 for Goa. Their route lay iii the countiy of inhospitable 
 savages, whose natural jealousy of the connexion be- 
 tween the Abyssinians and Europeans was increased by 
 the insinuations of an Abyssinian schismatic, named 
 Manquer, who had followed them for the purpose of re- 
 tarding and persecuting them on their journey. After 
 surmounting various obstacles, which his malice threw 
 in their way, they were imprisoned in the kingdom of 
 Alaba, whose sovereign, being a Moor, was persuaded 
 by Manquer, tliat they intended to overturn the Maho- 
 metan religion. The barbarian threatened them with 
 death ; but, after holding a council, in which Manquer 
 gave his voice for their execution, he resolved to send 
 them back to Abyssinia. Thus ended an embassy, which, 
 had it been allowed to proceed to Europe, would have 
 conveyed to the pope the voluntary submission of an 
 Abyssinian monarch, and contributed more than any 
 other cause to the final establishment of popery in tliat 
 kingdom. 
 
 His subjects did not view with indifference the apos- 
 tasy of Socinios from the established religion. A danger- 
 ous conspii-acy was formed against his life by Emana 
 Christos, his own brother ; Julius, his son-in-law ; and 
 Kefla Wahud, master of the household. They had 
 agreed to assassinate him in the palace ; but the king, 
 being informed of their design just before their arrival, 
 had the address to prevent it. Sentence of excommuni- 
 cation was pronounced against him by the Abuna ; but, 
 on the menaces of Socinios, it was immediately recall- 
 ed. The vengeance of tlie conspirators was next direct- 
 ed against Sela Christos, who had been invested with 
 the government of Gojam, of which his brother Emana 
 Christos had been deprived, for his adherence to the 
 Alexandrian church. Julius governor of Tigre, first ap- 
 peared in arms, and hastened into Gojam, in hopes to 
 surprise Sela Christos. But the whole scheme was 
 frustrated by the vigilance of the king, who advanced 
 into that provmce before the rebels were informed of 
 his intention, and proceeded without delay to meet the 
 army of Julius. Here he posted himself so judiciously, 
 that his enemy could not force him to an engagement 
 without evident disadvantage. But the temerity of Ju- 
 lius brought the affair to a speedy termination; for,
 
 ABYSSINIA 
 
 (il 
 
 nishlng witli a few attcnilants into the royal camp, he 
 advanced direclly to the kins,^'s tent, where, being re- 
 cognised by the guards, he and his followers were in- 
 stantly despatched. After the death of their leader, 
 the rebel army fled in all directions, and were pursued 
 by the royalists with prodigious slaughter. Emana 
 Christos had taken refuge on a high mountain in Gojam, 
 ■where he was invested by Af Christos, an experienced 
 general ; and, as the mountain was destitute ot water, his 
 soldiers, to save themselves from perishing with thirst, 
 betrayed him into the hands ol his enemy, while he was 
 preparing to make a vigorous defence. He was capi- 
 tally convicted in a full assembly of judges ; but the 
 king remitted the sentence, and confined him in Am- 
 hara. 
 
 After suppressing two other rebellions, Socinios, 
 irritated by the opposition he had met with, determined 
 to show, in the most public manner, his attachment to 
 the church of Rome. He therefore issued a proclama- 
 tion, renouncing the Alexandrian creed, and inveighing 
 against the profligacy of the Abyssinian clergy. This 
 proclamation is said to have been suggested by Peter 
 Paez, who died immediately after leaving the palace. 
 The first effect it produced was another rebellion in 
 Anihara, which was quickly suppressed by the activity 
 of Sela Christos. 
 
 Though the embassy to the pope and king of Spain 
 had been constrained to return, frequent accounts had 
 been transmitted to Europe of the revolution which had 
 taken place in the religious affairs of Abyssinia. A new 
 set of missionaries, therefore, were sent to this countiy, 
 under the direction of the patriarch Alphonzo Mendez, 
 and arrived at Gorgora, where the king then resided, in 
 the beginning of the year 1626. At the first audience, 
 Socinios acknowledged the pope's supremacy ; and soon 
 after took the oath of submission in a manner peculiarly 
 solemn. A sermon, ijiforcing the pope's supremacy, 
 was preached by the patriarch in the Portuguese lan- 
 guage, which is said to have powerfully confirmed the 
 faith of Socinios, and his brother Sela Christos, though 
 they understood not a word of the language in which it 
 was delivered. This discourse was answered in the 
 Amliaric language, equally unintelligible to the mis- 
 sionaries, and the patriarch made a short reply in Por- 
 tuguese. At the conclusion of this edifying discussion, 
 the oath was taken by the emperor on his knees, and by 
 all the princes and nobles in succession. Sela Christos, 
 after perfomning this ceremony, drew his sword, and de- 
 nounced vengeance on those who should fall from their 
 duty ; adding at the same tmie an oath of allegiance to 
 the king, and to Facilidas, the prince royal ; but decla- 
 ring, that if the latter should ever fail to promote and 
 defend the catholic faith, he should be his most irrecon- 
 cileablc enemy. 
 
 The violent character of Mendez, which was exactly 
 the reverse of that of the excellent Paez, excited a gen- 
 eral and deadly hatred against the Roman catholics. At 
 his instigation, an edict was issued by the king, enjoin- 
 ing all the priests to embrace the catholic religion un- 
 der pain of death ; and the people, under the same pen- 
 alty, to observe Lent and Easter, and all the moveable 
 feasts, according to the regulations of the church of 
 Rome. The Abyssinian clergy were re-ordaincd ; the 
 churches were consecrated anew ; even adults under- 
 went a second time the ceremony of bapti.sm ; circum- 
 cision, polygamy, and divorce, which had been allowed 
 by the Alexandrian church, and always practised in 
 
 Abyssinia, were now abaolu'xly prohioiied. Nay, to 
 such excesses did the frantic zeal of this ecclesiastic 
 proceed, that he ordered the body of an Abyssinian saint 
 to be ignominiously thrown out of the grave, because it 
 had been buried under the altar of a church, which he 
 supposed to be thereby defiled. In consequence of 
 these outrageous proceedings, the whole empire was in 
 a flame of rebellion ; while its external enemies, taking 
 advantage of the general confusiot*, invaded and ravaged 
 it with impunity. At last the king's army, weary of de- 
 stroying their countrymen for a quarrel which they did 
 not understand, demanded the restoration of the ancient 
 religion ; and Socinios himself, wishing to give repose to 
 his exhausted country, first passed an act of general to- 
 leration, and then formally re-established the Alexan- 
 drian faith, liturgy, and altars for communion. Having 
 thus endeavoured to expiate, or at least to heal the cala- 
 mities which his fanaticism had brought on his sub- 
 jects, and being now worn out with age and infirmity, he 
 resigned his crown to Facilidas his son, and passed the 
 remainder of his days in tranquillity and retirement. 
 
 Facilidas had no sooner ascended the throne than he 
 showed an inveterate enmity against the catholics, and a 
 decided resolution to exterminate them from his domi- 
 nions. Mendez, and all his brethren, were ordered first 
 to retire to Fremona, and afterwards to quit the country. 
 The refractoiy patriarch, instead of obeying this com- 
 mand, applied to the Baharnagash, then in rebellion, 
 who carried them from Fremona by night, under a strong 
 guard, and lodged them safe in the fortress of Adicotta. 
 The Baharnagash conveyed them from place to place, 
 through hot unwholesome situations, exhausting at once 
 their patience and their strength. On receiving a pre- 
 sent of gold, he allowed them to return to Adicotta ; but 
 Facilidas, having discovered their retreat, endeavoured 
 to prevail with the Baharnagash to deliver them into 
 his hands. Delicacy would not allow him to violate the 
 rights of hospitality, by delivering his guests to their 
 enemy ; but he easily consented, on receiving a proper 
 compensation, to sell them as slaves to the Turks. Two 
 alone remained, in hopes of obtaining the crown of mar- 
 tyrdom ; an honour which Facilidas conferred upon them 
 as soon as he got them into his power. Nor was he con^ 
 tent W'ith the extirpation of the missionaries, but resolv- 
 ed to put to death every person of consequence who re- 
 fused to renounce the Roman catholic religion. His un- 
 cle, Sela Christos, was among the first of his victims, re- 
 solutely adhering to his principles, in spite of all the 
 threats and promises of the king. Yet these persecu- 
 tions did not deter the Europeans from sending another 
 mission into Abyssinia. The miscarriages of the Je- 
 suits were ascribed, not without justice, to their own in- 
 solence and obstinacy ; and it was hoped, that mission- 
 aries, of a more prudent and conciliating character, 
 might yet succeed in the great object of subjugating 
 this country to the tyranny of the Roman pontiff. Six 
 capuchins, of the order of St Francis, set out on this 
 mission with protections from the Grand Signior. Of 
 these, two were murdered by the Galla, while attempt- 
 ing to enter Abyssinia by the way of Magadoxa ; two, 
 who reached the country in safety, were there stoned to 
 death ; and the remaining two, hearing atMasuah of the 
 unhappy fate of their companions, did not venture to pro- 
 ceed. Not long after, three other missionaries made a 
 similar attempt; but, at the command of Facilidas, were 
 murdered by the bashaw of Jlasiiah. 
 
 Notwithstanding the restoratiou of the ancient religi-
 
 (32 
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 on, the spirit of rebellion was not yet subdued. Mel- 
 cha Christos, whom, during the last reign, the Agows 
 had endeavoured to exalt to the throne, still continued 
 in arms ; he defeated an army, which Facilidas command- 
 ed in person; and, pursuing his good fortune, seized 
 the royal palace, and was formally crowned. But he 
 did not long continue to enjoy his elevation ; Facilidas 
 quickly recruited his army, which surrounded and at- 
 tacked the rebels, before they were aware of their ap- 
 proach, defeated them with great slaughter, and slew 
 their leader himself. Another rebellion now broke out 
 in Lasta, where the son of Melcha Christos was set up 
 as king, and the rebels seemed determined not to yield 
 while there was a possibility of resistance. After vari- 
 ous success, their general submitted unconditionally to 
 the king, who bestowed on him large possessions in Be- 
 gemder, with his daughter Theoclea in marriage. 
 
 Facilidas died in October 1665, and was succeeded 
 by his son Hannes, who, though an enthusiastic Chris- 
 tian, was as hostile to the Roman catholics as his pre- 
 decessor had been. After a reign of five years, spent 
 chiefly in regulating church affairs, and contending with 
 the clergy, he was succeeded by his son Yasous, with the 
 approbation and joy of the whole kingdom. 
 
 The first transaction of this monarch's reign exhibits 
 his character in a very amiable light. Facilidas, after 
 suppressing a rebellion, headed by his brother Claudius, 
 had banished the princes to the mountain of Wechne, 
 where they continued from that lime to be imprisoned. 
 Here they were visited by Yasous, who found them in a 
 condition of extreme wretchedness. His father, a man 
 of a sordid disposition, had withheld the greater part 
 of their revenue, and the little which he did allow them 
 was embezzled by their keepers ; so that these unhappy 
 princes, without the power of complaining, or of procur- 
 ing redress, were left almost entirely destitute of the 
 means of subsistence. Yasous found them in tatters, and 
 many of them almost naked ; and, deeply affected by the 
 sight, distributed among them a large sum of money 
 for present relief, clothed them in a manner suitable to 
 their rank, and made such arrangements, witli regard to 
 iheir revenue, that it could not in fiUurc be embezzled or 
 misapplied. He then conducted the pi-isoners to the 
 foot of the mountain, leaving them at liberty either to 
 return to their residence on its summit, or to remove to 
 any part of the kingdom. By this extraordinary gene- 
 rosity, he so completely gained their aflections, that they 
 unanimously retiu-ned to their former confinement, nor 
 did one of them ever attempt to disturb the tranquillity 
 of his reign. 
 
 Though possessed of every great and amiable quality, 
 Yasous was not secure from the turbulence of faction, 
 and the machinations of treason. Rebellions were fre- 
 quent in the beginning of his reign, but were quickly 
 suppressed by his activity and valour. Such indeed 
 were his talents as a general, and his personal prowess, 
 that one of his campaigns is esteemed the most brilliant 
 that is recorded in the annals of Abyssinia. In this 
 reign, the correspondence between Europe and Abyssinia 
 was renewed, and attempts were made to revive the in- 
 terests of the Roman church, by introducing new mis- 
 sionaries into the kingdom. Some Italian Franciscans, 
 who had settled at Cairo, were supplanted by a set of 
 capuchins from Jerusalem ; and on their return to Rome, 
 reported, that a number of catliolics had fled from the 
 persecutions in Abyssinia, into the neighbouring coun- 
 tries of Nubia and Sennaar, where they were so much 
 
 oppressed by the Mahometans, that, unless immedi- 
 ately relieved, they would be compelled to renounce the 
 religion of Jesus for that of the Arabian prophet. The 
 cause of these injured Christians was eagerly espoused 
 in Italy, and a mission instituted for their relief, at the 
 expense of the pope, which still continues under the 
 name of the Kiliiojiic mi.ision. Tliese missionaries were 
 directed to penetrate, if possible, mto Abyssinia ; and 
 to maintain the catholic faith as far as circumstances 
 would permit, till a more favourable opportunity should 
 occur of converting the whole kingdom. About the 
 same time, Louis XIV. of France concerted an embassy 
 to the king of Abyssinia; and, on his applying to the 
 pope for his consent, his holiness appointed six Jesuits 
 as missionaries to that court, with the superior of the 
 Franciscans to be his legate, a latere, furnishing him 
 with suitable presents for the king and his nobility. 
 
 The entrance of these missionaries into Abyssinia 
 was facilitated by a dangerous scorbutic disorder, with 
 which Yasous and his sou were then afllicted, and for 
 which they wished to have the advice of an European 
 physician. Maillet, the French consul at Cairo, wish- 
 ing to disappoint the Franciscans, prevailed with Hagi 
 Ali, to whom Yasous had applied, to send a Jesuit, called 
 Charles Poncet, as physician, with father Brevedent as 
 his servant. Brevedent died soon after his arrival in 
 Gondar; but Poncet lived to effect the cure of his royal 
 patient, and, notwithstanding the machinations of the 
 Franciscans, returned in safety to Europe. An ambas- 
 sador to the court of France was appointed by Yasous ; 
 but the violence of Maillet prevented him from proceed- 
 ing. By the influence of the Jesuits, another embassy 
 to Abyssinia was concerted by Louis ; and M. de Roule, 
 vice-consul at Damietta, was appointed ambassador. 
 But this mission was very improperly conducted ; it was 
 resisted by the merchants at Cairo, impeded by the 
 Franciscans, and terminated in the murder of De Roule 
 in the kingdom of Sennaar. 
 
 Immediately before this event, Yasous had been as- 
 sassinated by his son Tecla Haimanout, who was in- 
 stigated to this parricide by the jealousy of the queen. 
 Tecla Haimanout himself shared the same fate in tlte 
 year 1706, and was succeeded by his uncle Tiffilis or 
 Theophilus, whose first care was to discover and execute 
 the murderers of his predecessor. Tigi, one of these 
 assassins, raised an army of Galla, which committed 
 great ravages, but was soon defeated by Theophilus, 
 with a force greatly inferior. Soon after this victoiy 
 Theophilus was seized with a fever, of which he died 
 in September 1709. After his deatli,the line of Solomon 
 was a second tune set aside, and a stranger, named Ous- 
 tas, was raised to the throne. But, though bis character 
 rendered him in every respect worthy of the kingdom, 
 the people were so much attached to the ancient race of 
 monarchs, that he was soon deposed, and David, son of 
 Yasous, was crowned at Gondar on the 30th of January 
 1714. 
 
 David, though a rigid Alexandrian, was so provoked 
 by the dissensions of the Abyssinian clergy, that he sent a 
 body of Pagan Galla to a church where they were as- 
 sembled, who massacred them without distinction. This 
 wanton act of cruelty rendered the king so odious, that 
 he was carried off by poison in 1717. David was suc- 
 ceeded by his brother Bactiffa, who endeavoured to se- 
 cure himself, by destroying all the nobility who had any 
 share in former conspiracies. He died in 1729, and was 
 succeeded by his son Yasous II.
 
 ABYSfelNIA, 
 
 6S 
 
 Yasous showed an inclination lo promote the arts of 
 peace, renounced the diversion of hunting, and the ex- 
 peditions against the Shangalla, which were usually con- 
 ducted with great barbarity. But being reproached for 
 his inactivity, in a satire, intitlcd, " The Expedition of 
 Yasous the Little," he invaded the kingdom of Sennaar, 
 without the least provocation, and allowed his soldiers to 
 exercise the most dreadful cruelties. He had not long 
 returned from this ruinous expedition, when he was 
 obliged again to take the field against Suhul Michael, 
 governor of Tigr6. The rebel, unable to cope with his 
 sovereign, in open war, fled to a high mountain for re- 
 fuge ; but all his posts being taken by storm, excepting 
 one, which must'iikewise have been carried by the royal 
 army, he requfcstcd a capitulation; consigned into the 
 hands of Yasous a great quantity of tieasure ; and de- 
 scended with a stone upon his head, (indicating, that he 
 had been guilty of a capital crime,) to submit to the 
 clemency of the king. A promise was reluctantly ex- 
 torted from Yasous to spare his life ; but, as soon as the 
 rebel appeared in his presence, his indignation return- 
 ed, and, retracting his promise, he ordered him to be 
 carried out and executed at his tent door. At the in- 
 tercession of all his officers, the king again pardoned 
 him; but with these remarkable words, that he washed 
 his hands of all the blood which should be shed by Mi- 
 chael, before he effected the destruction of his country, 
 which he had long been meditating. Michael, after con- 
 tinuing some time in prison, was restored to his govern- 
 ment of Tigre; and, by his dutiful behaviour, so gained 
 upon the king, that he was made governor of Enderta 
 and Sire, as well as of Tigre, thus becoming master of 
 one half of Abyssinia. But this mcrease of power did 
 not tempt him to any new rebellion during the reign of 
 Yasous, who died in June 1753, in the twenty-fourth 
 year of his reign. 
 
 Yasous had espoused a princess of the Galla, whose 
 son Joas now succeeded to the throne. Influenced by 
 his mother, the young king showed an almost exclusive 
 preference to the Galla, who, of all people, were most 
 detested by the Abyssinians, both on account of their 
 barbarity, and of the wars which had always subsisted 
 between the two nations. On the accession of Joas, 1200 
 Galla horse were sent as the portion of his mother ; and 
 these were followed by a number of private persons, at- 
 tracted by curiosity, or the hope of pref.;rment, who were 
 Imbodied into a troop of infantr)-, under the command 
 of Wooshcka. Their favourable reception induced 
 many others to appear. Two of the king's uncles were 
 sent for, who brought along with them a troop of one 
 thousand horse. These Gallas assumed a sovereign 
 authority over the prince, while his native subjects were 
 to the last degree incensed, at seeing their inveterate 
 enemies thus reigning in the heart of their kingdom. 
 So violent was their resentment, when Joas named his 
 uncle Lubo to the government of Amhara, that, to avoid 
 a civil war, he was obliged to retract the appointment. 
 The whole empire was now divided into two factions ; 
 the one headed by the old queen, mother of Yasous, the 
 other by Joas himself and his Galla relations. Welled 
 de rOul, the prime minister, had hitherto restrained, by 
 his prudent conduct, the fury of the opposite parties ; 
 but, after his death, a scene of violence and confusion 
 ensued, which continued for many years. 
 
 The imprudence of the king first brought matters to 
 a crisis. Ayo, an old and respectable officer, had late- 
 ly resigned the government of Begemdcr into tiic 
 
 hands of the queen. His son, Marlam Berea, esteem- 
 ed the most accomplished nobleman in the kingdom, 
 had married Ozoro Esther, daughter of tlic old queen 
 by her second husband; and it was of couise expect- 
 ed, that he should succeed liis father in tiie govern- 
 ment. A quarrel had unfortunately happened between 
 Ayo and Suhul Michael, which continued undecided 
 till Ayo resigned. Rejectuig the decision of judges, 
 whom he thought partial and unjust, Mariam insisted 
 that the king should either determine the affair in per- 
 son, or that it shoidd be referred to the sword; and his 
 firmness was branded by his enemies as disobedience 
 and rebellion. On this account, Joas, deprived him, by 
 proclamation, of the govermnent of Begemder, bestow- 
 ing it on his uncle Bruhle. This appointment was heard 
 with general terror and indignation. As Begemder is 
 a frontier province, bordering on the Galla, it was obvi- 
 ous, that on the accession of Bruhle, it would be over- 
 run by that people, savage beyond all other barbarians. 
 Mariam himself was particularly indignant at the man- 
 ner in which he was deprived of his dignity, and sub 
 jected to a race of pagans, whom he had often compel- 
 led in battle to acknowledge his superiority. He sent a 
 remonstrance to the king, reminduig hhn, that he had 
 sworn, as governor of Begemder, to allow none of the 
 Galla to enter his provmce ; warning him of the dan- 
 ger to which the princes in Wechne would be exposed 
 from the vicinity of these barbarians ; and entreating, 
 that, if he was determined to deprive him of the govern- 
 ment, he would at least bestow it on^an Abyssinian noble- 
 man, in which case he would retii'p and live in pi-ivatc 
 with his filth er. At the same time, he declared, that if 
 the king himself should invade his pi;ovince at the head 
 of an army of Galla, he would retire to its farthest ex- 
 tremity, leaving every kind of provision for his majes- 
 ty's troops. But if an army, conducted by a Galla com- 
 mander, should march towards Begemder, he would en- 
 counter them, on the frontiers, before one of them should 
 drink of the well of Fernay, or advance the length of a 
 pike into the province. To this spirited remonstrance, 
 Joas returned a scoffing answer, announcuig the speedy 
 arrival of Bruhle ; at the same time he created Michael 
 governor of Samen, that, in case there should be occa- 
 sion for him, he might meet with no obstruction in his 
 march to Gondar. jNIariam, provoked by the king's 
 message, replied with equal disdain ; alluding ironical- 
 ly to the name of Bruhle, which, in the Abyssinian lan- 
 guage, signifies a bottle, and telling him, that this 
 Bruhle, if sent into that country, should be broken on the 
 rocks of Begemder. 
 
 The royal army was instantly put in motion,, but the 
 Abyssinians refused to draw a sword against their coun- 
 trymen ; the Galla, unable to support the shock of Ma- 
 riam's army, were defeated at the well of Fernay ; and 
 though Mariam had given express orders that Bruhle 
 should, if possible, be taken alive, one of his servants 
 pierced him twice with a lance, and stretched him dead 
 on the field. On hearing of this disaster, Joas instantly 
 despatched an express for Michael, and invested him with 
 the dignity of Ras, attended with unlimited power, both 
 military and civil. Michael, who was prepared for tliis 
 event, set out foi- the capital with an army of 20,000 cho- 
 sen men, 1000 of whom were armed with muskets. These 
 troops, who were allowed to take along with them neitlier 
 tents nor provisions, desolated the country through 
 which they passed ; so that the inhabitants fled before 
 them, as from the most inveterate enemies. When he
 
 64 
 
 ABYSSINIA. 
 
 arrived at Gondar, Midiael, as if he meant to invest it, 
 took, possession of all the avenues; but, instead ofconi- 
 niittingany act of hostility, he waited on the king witli 
 tlie utmost respect, and, proceeding from the palace to his 
 own house, he there sat in judgment, as the nature of 
 his oflice required. In the administration of justice he 
 was so rigorous and impartial, that in a short time, the 
 most valuable articles were left in the streets of Gondar 
 night and day, without being stolen , and the people, who 
 were at first alarmed by his severity, now only regretted 
 that he had not come sooner to relieve them from the con- 
 fusion and anarchy which had so long prevailed. 
 
 Having thus secured the tranquillity of the capital, 
 he set out on his expedition to Begemder. But being 
 imwilling to incur the odium which would attend the des- 
 truction of the excellent Mariani, he insisted that the king 
 himself should march from Gondar, attended by his whole 
 army, and took every occasion of extolling Mariam's vir- 
 tues, and censuring the king for attempting to destroy 
 such a meritorious subject. Mariam, as he had pro- 
 mised in his last remonstrance, retired to the extremity of 
 the province, while Joas and Michael hurried on with im- 
 petuosity, spreading terror and desolation wherever they 
 appeared. An engagement took place on the extreme 
 borders of Begemder, in which the royal army, amoun- 
 ting to twice the number of Mariam's, soon obtauied the 
 victory. The unfortunate nobleman, with twelve of his 
 officers, took refuge among the Galla, by whom they were 
 immediately betrayed The throat of Mariam was cut by 
 Lubo, the brother of Bruhic, and his body disfigured in a 
 shocking manner. His head was carried to Michael's tent 
 who would not allow it to be uncovered in his presence ; 
 and when Lubo demanded the twelve officers, who had 
 sought protection from the Ras, to be delivered up for ex- 
 ecution, Michael was so enraged, that he ordered Woo- 
 sheka, Lubo's messenger, to be cut in pieces at his tent- 
 door; an order which would certainly have been execu- 
 ted, had he not fled with the utmost precipitation. 
 
 Michael had always been offended at the ascendency 
 which the Galla had gained over the king ; and his jealousy 
 was now still farther roused by the favour which Joas dis- 
 played towards another officer, Waragna Fasil, a Galla by 
 birth, who had distinguished himselfat the battle in which 
 Mariam was slain. Not far from the field of battle, Mari- 
 am Barca had a house, where his widow Ozoro Esther at 
 that time resided. Here Fasil, invited by the pleasantness 
 of the situation, encamped with his cavaliy. Ozoro Esther 
 was alarmed. At the advice of Ayto Aylo, a nobleman in 
 whom she placed great confidence, she repaired to Mi- 
 chael's tent, and threw herself at his feet ; while Aylo in- 
 formed the Ras, that she intended to give him her hand, 
 as he was the only person free from the guilt of the mur- 
 der of her fonner husband, who could now afford her pro- 
 tection. Michael, overjoyed at the prospect of such an 
 advantageous match, caused his army to be drawn out in 
 battle-array ; and, sending for a priest, was married to the 
 princess in sight of all the soldiers. The air rung with their 
 acclamations, and Joas, being informed of the reason, ex- 
 pressed his displeasure in such unequivocal terms, that, 
 from Uiat moment, Michael and he regarded each other 
 w ith miuual hatred. A trifling accident soon made their 
 hatred public. Michael, to screen himself from the heat 
 of the sun, happened one day to throw a white handker- 
 chief over his head. The king, who was then marching 
 at the head of his army, regarded this as an insult offered 
 to himself ; and, though the handkerchief was instantly 
 withdrawn, ^youkl accept of no atonement for sucli a hei- 
 
 nous transgression. Some time after tnis, Fasil Ijcing in- 
 volved hi a quarrel w ith a man of great consequence, the 
 Ras, as civil judge, summoned both parties to appear bc- 
 tcirc his tribunal. Fasil rejected his jurisdiction; and 
 the affair was submitted to the other civil judges, who 
 decided in favour of Michael, and declared Fasil hi re- 
 bellion. This decision was followed by a proclamation, 
 depriving him of his government of Danjot, and of eveiy 
 other public office with which he was Invested. The 
 Galla chief, instead of submitting to this disgrace, en- 
 camjjed on tlie high road betwixt Damot and Gondar, 
 intercepting all the provisions comuig to the capital 
 from the south. A shot was next fired at the Ras from 
 the windows of the palace, while he sat. in judgment in 
 his own house. Tli<^ iufi-ntion of this shot could not be 
 mistaken. Joas instantly removed to a distance, but 
 sent Woosheka to desire Michael to return to Tigre 
 without seeing his face; informing him at the same 
 time, that he had committed to his uncle Lubo the go- 
 vernment of Begemder and Amhara. Next day, four 
 judges were sent to Michael by the king, commanding 
 him, on pain of his severest displeasure, to depart for 
 Tigre with all expedition. The Ras returned a formal 
 answer, expressing his hope that the king himself would 
 immediately march against Fasil. When this was re- 
 fused, Michael issued a proclamation, commanding all 
 the Galla to leave the capital next day on pain of death. 
 Fasil was soon after defeated in an engagement, and 
 obliged to retire into Damot. In this engagement some 
 of the king's black horse were taken, and, on being 
 questioned by Michael, confessed that they had been 
 sent by his majesty to the assistance of his enemy. Mi- 
 chael immediately sent assassins to take away the life of 
 his sovereign, — in which they soon succeeded, and bu- 
 ried him in the church of St Raphael. 
 
 Michael now placed on the throne Hannes, brother to 
 the late king Bacufla, an old man, who had spent all his 
 days on the mountain of Wechne, and was of course 
 totally unacquainted with political affairs. Hannes had 
 been maimed by the loss of one hand, to prevent him 
 from aspiring to the throne ; for, by the law of Abyssinia, 
 the king must be free from every personal defect. Mi- 
 chael laughed at this objection ; but, on finding him to- 
 tally averse to business, he carried him off by poison, 
 and made his son, Tecla Haimanout, his successor on 
 the throne. He now marched against Fasil without de- 
 lay, and defeated him after an obstinate engagement. 
 Woosheka was taken prisoner, and at the desire (as has 
 been alleged) of Ozoro Esther, that unhappy man was 
 flayed alive, and his skin was formed into a bottle. On 
 the night when the horrid operation was perfomied, the 
 princess appeared in the royal tent, decked like a bride, 
 and afterwards returned in triumph to Gondar. 
 
 Soon after this, Mr Bruce entered Abyssinia. Dur- 
 ing the whole of his residence in that country, war and 
 bloodshed prevailed. Tecla Haimanout still maintained 
 his ground. An usurper, named Socinios, was reduced 
 to the degrading state of a menial in the king's kitchen. 
 Fasil could not be subdued by the skill or activity of 
 Michael, whom fortune seemed now to have forsaken ; 
 an attempt was even made to assassinate him, and on one 
 occasion he was made prisoner by the rebels. 
 
 Such is an imperfect sketch of the history of Abys- 
 sinia, a countiy sunk in the lowest state of barbarity, 
 and afflicted — even without the hope of improvement — 
 with all the calamities which result from an ill constitu- 
 ted government. Yet Abyssinia, in extent, m situation.
 
 ABY 
 
 ACA 
 
 and natural advantages, is the most important country 
 in Africa ; and from tliis kingdom, more conveniently 
 than from any other quarter, might the blessings of civi- 
 lization be diffused through that unfortunate continent. 
 May not the benevolent heart now anticipate, witli con- 
 fidence, the auspicious, and perhaps not far distant era, 
 when the enlightened exertionsot the African Institu- 
 tion shall reclaim from their native indolence and fero- 
 city, the savage inhabitants of this wide portion of the 
 globe, and, by promoting among them the blessings of 
 industry, knowledge, and religion, and teaching them to 
 estimate and improve their local advantages, shall atone, 
 in some degree, for the long train of miseries which 
 they have hitherto suffered from European oppression i 
 
 ABYSSINIAN Church is the name given to the 
 church established in the empire of Abyssinia. 
 
 The Abyssinians are said to be a branch of the Copts 
 or Jacobites; though the name of Copt properly applies 
 to those Christians only who dwell in Egypt, Nubia, 
 and tlie adjacent countries. They are called also Mono- 
 fihysites, or Eutychians, because they admit only one 
 nature in Jesus Christ, rejecting the council of Chalce- 
 don. Christianity was introduced into Abyssinia by Fru- 
 mentius, early in the fourth century ; and, according to 
 Mosheim, the doctrines of the Monopliysitcs found their 
 way into this country about the beginning of the seventh 
 century, or perhaps sooner. 
 
 At the head of the Abyssinian church is a bishop, or 
 Metropolitan, styled Abuna, who is appointed by the 
 patriarch of Alexandria residing at Cairo ; and, by a law 
 of Abyssinia, must always be a foreigner. As the Abuna 
 is generally ignorant of the language and manners of the 
 country, he is not allowed to interfere in the affairs of 
 government. Next to the Abuna in dignity is the Komos, 
 or Hegumcnos, a kind of arch-presbyter; but the Dcb- 
 taras, a set of chanters, who conduct the sacred music, 
 and assist at all the public offices of the church, stand 
 higher than the Komos in general estimation. The dea- 
 cons form the lowest order of the priesthood. All these 
 orders are allowed to marry ; but the monks, who are 
 very numerous, vow aloud, before their superior, to pre- 
 serve chastity ; adding, however, in a whisper, as you pre- 
 serve it. These monks are divided into two classes ; 
 those of Debra Libanos, and those of St Eustathius. 
 They hav« no convents, but live in separate houses round 
 their church. The superior of the monks of Debra 
 Libanos is the Itchegue ; v/ho, at least in troublesome 
 times, is of much greater consequence than the Abuna. 
 
 The religion of Abyssinia consists merely of a mot- 
 ley collection of traditions, tenets, and ceremonies, de- 
 rived from the Jewish and Christian churches. In their 
 form of worship, Judaism seems to predominate. The 
 rites of Moses are strictly observed; both sexes un- 
 dergo circumcision ; meats prohibited by the Jewish 
 law are abstained from; brothers marry the wives of 
 their deceased brothers ; women are obliged to observe 
 the legal purifications ; Saturday and Sunday are held 
 sacred as Sabbaths ; and persons under Jewish disquali- 
 fications are prohibited from entering the church. They 
 have festivals and saints innumerable. One day is con- 
 secrated to Balaam's ass ; another to Pontius Pilate and 
 his wife ; to Pilate, because he washed his hands before 
 pronouncing sentence on Christ ; to his lady, because 
 she warned him to have nothing to do with the blood 
 of that just person. The Epiphany is celebrated with 
 peculiar festivity, in commemoration of our Saviour's 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 baptism. On this occasion they plungr; and sport in 
 rivers ; which has given rise to the erroneous opinion, 
 that they are every year baptized anew. They have 
 four seasons of Lent ; the great Lent commences ten 
 - days earlier than in Europe, and is so rigidly observed, 
 that many abstain at that time even from fish; because 
 St Paul says, there is one kind of flesh of men, and ano 
 thcr of fishes. In legends and miracles they at least 
 equal the church of Rome; and so confounded the Je- 
 suits by the numerous and apparently authenticated ac- 
 counts of the wonders performed by their saints, that 
 these missionaries were obliged to deny that miracles 
 were sufficient to prove the truth of a religion. Images 
 embossed, or in relievo, they abhor, as favouring idola- 
 try ; nevertheless their churches are hung round witli 
 pictures, to which they pay the highest veneration. They 
 argue that the soul is uncreated, because God finished 
 all his works on the sixth day. About the intermediate 
 state of souls they are not entirely agreed ; the most 
 prevailing opinion, however, is, that immediately on 
 their separation from the body, the souls of good men 
 enter into bliss. Their canon of scripture is the same 
 as ours ; but they Regard the Song of Solomon as merely 
 a love poem, composed in honour of Pharaoh's daughter, 
 without any mystical allusion to Christ and the church. 
 
 Upon the whole, it may be said, that the religion of 
 the Abyssinians is a monstrous heap of superstitions 
 unworthily dignified with the name of Christianity ; giv- 
 ing rise sometimes to disputes and persecution ; but in- 
 capable of producing any salutary effect upon the sen- 
 timents or conduct of its professors, {k) 
 
 ACACIA, in the Linnsean system, a species of Mi- 
 mosa, belonging to the class of Polygamia, and ordci- 
 Monascia. See Botany. 
 
 The Chinese employ the flowers of this plant to pro- 
 duce that beautiful and durable yellow which has been 
 so much admired in their different stuffs. The flowers 
 ai-e gently heated, in an earthen vessel, till they become 
 a little dry, and of a yellow colour ; and then water is 
 added, till the flowers are held incorporated together. 
 After this mixture is boiled for some time, it becomes 
 thick and yellow, and is then strained through a piece 
 of coarse silk. The strained liquid is now mixed with 
 alum and calcined oyster shells, finely pulverized ; an 
 ounce of alum, and the same quantity of oyster shells, 
 being added for every three pounds of acacia flov/ers. 
 The different shades of yellow are produced by mixing 
 different quantities of acacia seeds with the flowers; 
 only a little Brazil wood is required for the deepest yel- 
 low. {iv) 
 
 ACACIA, an astringent gummy substance, being the 
 inspissated juice of tlie unripe pods of the Mimosa 
 Nilotic A of Linnaeus. It has been long used as a tonic 
 in several diseases ; Init is now banished from the Ma- 
 teria Medica. The method of preparing this medicine 
 may be seen in Murray's J/ifiarat. MedkJn. p. 2. (to) 
 
 ACACIA, is the name of a purple bag filled with dust, 
 which was carried by some of the consuls and emperors 
 as an emblem of mortality. It is represented on medals 
 after the time of Anastasius. 
 
 ACACIUS, St, a bishop of Amida, in Mesopotamia, 
 who flourished about the year 420. He was of such a 
 charitable and humane disposition, that he ransomed 
 7000 Persian slaves, who were dying with hunger, by 
 selling the plate belonging to his church. Having con- 
 veyed them in safety to their native country, their king, 
 Veranius, was so delighted with the benevolence ot
 
 66 
 
 AC A 
 
 ACA 
 
 Acacius, that he solicited from him an interview, which 
 led to a peace between Veranius and Theodosius I. Hu- 
 crat. Hist. Kctlcs. lib. 7. cap. 21. (to) 
 
 ACADEMICS, a name commonly employed to dis- 
 tinguish the disciples of the school of Plato among llie 
 ancient sects cf philosophy. It originated from the 
 circtmistancc of Plato having chosen as the theatre of 
 his insti'uctionsa public grove in the vicinity ol Athens, 
 tailed the Jcademy^ trom Hccademus, who had bequeath- 
 ed it to his fellow-citizens for the purpose of gymnastic 
 exercises. Upon this account, the doctrine of the Pla- 
 tonic school was called the Academical Pliiloaolthy, and 
 those who adopted it, Academics. 
 
 The peculiar characteristic by which the academical 
 philosophy was distinguished from all other ancient 
 sects, was a certain degree of doubt, or scepticism, 
 concerning the original principles of knowledge. The 
 scepticisniof Plato, however, was much more moderate 
 than that of some of his successors in the academic 
 chair ; insomuch, that the doctrines .of the academy 
 have been distinguished into three successive schools, 
 or eras, each varying from the scepticism of its prede- 
 cessor, and denomhiatcd the Old Academy^ the Middle 
 Academy, and the jYevj Academy. 
 
 If Plato doubted concerning the truths which are in- 
 titled to implicit admission, it was not in order to damp 
 the ardour of the inquisitive examiner of nature, but to 
 guard against tlie false confidence and precipitate deci- 
 sion, which are so fatal to the progress of true science. 
 He had learned from his master Socrates, the advan- 
 tages which may be derived from putting every thing 
 to the test of close and unprejudiced reasoning. The 
 great prevalence of sophistry in the age in which he 
 lived, convinced him of the lacility with which the mind 
 imposes upon itself, and substitutes the false glosses of 
 its fancy for the pure and immutable, though recondite 
 truths of nature. He, therefore, resolved to distrust the 
 impressions which the ordinary contemplation ol objects 
 excited; and seek after those more secret laws and con- 
 necting causes in the order of things, which escape the 
 penetration of the vulgar; while they constitute the true 
 province and nol)lest pursuit of the philosopher. That 
 Plato ascribed the uncertainty which accompanies the 
 search after truth, not to the nature of things themselves, 
 but to the imperfection of the human faculties, is evident 
 from the foUowiiig passage of his Phxdo : " If we are 
 unable to discover truth, this must be owing to one of 
 two reasons; either that there is no truth in the nature of 
 things themselves, or that the mind of man is, from some 
 i-adical defect, unable to discover it. Upon the latter 
 supposition, the uncertainty of human opinions may be 
 fully accounted for; and therefore we ought to ascribe 
 all our errors to the defectiveness of our own minds, 
 and not to affirm, gratuitously, that there is any defect in 
 the nature of things. Truth is frequently difficult of 
 access ; and therefore to arrive at it, we must proceed 
 with caution and diffidence, examining carefully every 
 step which we take; yet, after all our efforts, we shall 
 often find ourselves disappointed, and forced to sit down, 
 confessing our ignorance and our weakness." True 
 science, according to the sublime conceptions of Plato, 
 ivas conversant, not about those material forms and im- 
 perfect intelligences which we meet with in our daily 
 intercourse with men ; but it investigates the nature of 
 those purer and more perfect patterns, which were the 
 models, or archetypes, after which all created beings 
 were formed. These perfect exemplars he supposes to 
 
 have existed from all eternity, and he calls them the Idea* 
 of the great original Intelligence. As these caimot be 
 perceived by the human senses, whatever knowledge we 
 derive fi'om that source is unsatisfactory and uncertain. 
 Plato, therefore, must be admitted as maintaining that 
 degree of scepticism which ilenies all paramount autho- 
 rity to the evidence of sense. 
 
 The tenets of the Academy, as originally promulgated 
 by Plato, were taught in succession by his nephew 
 Speusippus, his disciple Xenocrates, by Polemo, Cran- 
 tor, and Crates ; in whom the series of philosophers of 
 the Old, or proper Academy, terminated. After the 
 death of Crates, which happened about the middle of 
 the third century before Christ, that innovation in the 
 tenets of the school took place, which gave rise to tlic 
 appellation of the Middle Academy. This innovation 
 was made by Arcesilaus of .fiolis ; a philosopher who, 
 after having attended various philosophical schools, 
 finally attached himself to that of Plato. He was of a 
 gay and luxurious disposition, and inclined to treat the 
 contentions of philosophers with more levity than be- 
 came a professed votary of science. He taught that 
 although there may be a real certainty in the nature of 
 things, yet every thing is uncertain to the human under- 
 standing ; and consequently, that all confident assertions 
 arc absiu'd. He admitted, that the testimony of the 
 senses, and the authority of reason, might be sufficient 
 for the ordinary conduct of life ; but denied that they were 
 capable of ascertaining the real nature of things ; — a 
 doctrine reconcileable, without much difficulty, to the 
 assertion of Plato, that every kind of knowledge derived 
 from sensible objects is uncertain ; and that the only 
 true science is that which is employed upon the immu- 
 table objects of intelligence. 
 
 After the death of Arcesilaus, the academy was suc- 
 cessively under the care of Lacydes, Evander, and 
 Egesinus. Its new tenets, however, meeting with great 
 opposition, these philosophers found it difficult to sup- 
 port the credit of the school ; and Carneades, a Cyrenian 
 by birth, and one of its disciples, found it reasonable to 
 modify what was most obnoxious in the system of Ar- 
 cesilaus, and became the founder of the ^'Vto Academy. 
 It was his doctrine, that the senses, the understanding, 
 and the imagination, frequently deceive us, and there- 
 fore cannot be infallible judges of truth ; but that from 
 the impressions which we perceive to be produced on 
 the mind by means of the senses, we justly infer ap- 
 pearances of truth or probabilities. These impressions 
 Carneades aiWcH phantasies., or images; and maintained, 
 that they do not always correspond to the real nature of 
 thuigs. The successors of Carneades in the New Aca- 
 demy, were Clitomachus, a native of Carthage, Philoof 
 Larissa, and Antiochus of Ascalon, who resigned the 
 chair in the 1 75th Olympiad, when the Academic School 
 was transferred to Rome. The learning and eloquence 
 of Philo are highly celebrated by Cicero, who knew him 
 at Rome, whither he had fled for refuge during the 
 Mlthridatic war. He is reckoned by some the founder 
 of a fourth academy ; as he held the peculiar tenet, that 
 truth in its nature is comprehensible, although not by 
 the human faculties. 
 
 Thus it appears that scepticism was to a certain ex- 
 tent encouraged by all the teachers of the Academic 
 school, but most of all by Arcesilaus, and his followers 
 of the middle academy ; and in the lowest degree by 
 Plato, and the more genuine Academics. If Plato 
 seemed to contract our sphere of knowledge, it was
 
 ACA 
 
 ACA 
 
 only with the intention of direcling the strongest illumi- 
 nation on tlie objects wiiicli were most iraught with in- 
 struction, and subservient to the highest purposes. But 
 Arcesilaus, by placing in the same obscurity every ob- 
 ject within the utmost extent of the splK-re, encouraged 
 a chilling and dangerous indiflercnce about every princi- 
 ple, whether of speculation or action. Such, however, 
 were not the genuine doctrines of the Academy, as is 
 frequently assumed by Hume, and other modern free- 
 thinkers, who wish to arrogate to themselves the ho- 
 nourable title of Academics, instead of the more appro- 
 priate, though reproachful, appellation of sceptics. The 
 scepticism of Plato, and his genuine followers, was not 
 that which wishes to throw doubt and obscurity upon 
 every object of human knowledge, but that which hesi- 
 tates to assume what it has not investigated ; and is cau- 
 tious of believing, in order that it may believe nothing 
 that is not absolutely conformable to truth. This rational, 
 or Platonic scepticism, may be seen admirably exempli- 
 fied in some of the philosophical writings of Cicero, who, 
 though he sometimes calls himself an eclectic philoso- 
 pher, and professes to select whatever he found most 
 valuable in the various schools of Greece, shows a mani- 
 fest predilection for the doctrines of the academy as 
 taught by Plato ; and therefore may be considered as a 
 genuine academic. See Plin. Hist. .Ya/. 1. 12. c. 1. Laert. 
 1. 4. Cic. de Fin. 1. 4. c. 31. .4c. Qu. 1. 4. and de Oral. 
 1. 3. c. 16. Sext. Emfi. .4d-u. Rhet. s. 20. Also Potter's 
 Arch. Grtec. Bruckeri Hist. Phil, and Enfield's Abridg- 
 ment, (m) 
 
 ACADEMY. The term Academy is of the same ori- 
 gin as Academics, though some are of opinion that it was 
 derived from Cadmus, who first brought letters from 
 Phoenicia to Greece, and who introduced into that savage 
 country the learning and mythology of Egypt. 
 
 It is now employed to denote a society of learned men, 
 associated for the pui'^iose of advancing the arts and sci- 
 ences, by communicating to the world the discoveries 
 which are made either by its own members, or by other 
 learned individuals. 
 
 The first academy of this kind of which we have any 
 account, is that which Charlemagne established, by the 
 advice of his preceptor Alcuin. It was composed of 
 the learned men of the court, at the head of whom was 
 the emperor himself. The object of this institution 
 was to promote a taste for polite literature, and improve 
 the language of the country, w-hich was at that time 
 in a very rude state. As this oljject could only be 
 attained by a careful study of the compositions of antiqui- 
 ty, it was required of each member to give an account of 
 the ancient authors which he had read, and communi- 
 cate the remarks he had made upon them ; and so great 
 was their attachment to the ancients, that they are said 
 even to have assumed their names. See Alcuin. 
 
 The exertions of Alcuin were honourable and useful; 
 but they were unable to dispel the darkness of the mid- 
 dle ages. The institution died with himself; and the 
 troubles consequent upon the dissolution of the Carlo- 
 vingian monarchy, extinguished the few faint lights that 
 were beginning to irradiate the gloom. During several 
 successive ages, we find no association for the advance- 
 ment of learning. The prevalence of the feudal system 
 nourished a spirit inconsistent with literary repose. In- 
 dividuals of superior talents now and then appeared, but 
 their discoveries, from the unfavourable circumstances 
 of the times, perished with themselves. The little know- 
 
 ledge that survived the general wreck, ivas preserved 
 in the cells of the monks, for the benefit of future ages. 
 
 Every attempt at improvement in Europe had been 
 partial and unsuccessful, till the final overthrow of the 
 Roman empire by the 'I'urks, in 1453. At that time seve- 
 ral Greek scholars, driven from their habitations, came 
 and settled in Italy, where they established schools, 
 which formed the basis of the numerous academical in- 
 stitutions that sviccessively arose in the surrounding 
 countries. In giving an account of these institutions, we 
 shall begin with Italy, and then proceed to the other 
 countries in which academies have been established. 
 
 Italian Academies. In Italy the ninnber of aca- 
 demical institutions increased with such rapidity, that 
 they are said to have amounted in a short time to 550. 
 In the city of Milan alone, Jarckius reckons 25, of which 
 he has given the history. The names of many of the 
 Italian academies arc curious and expressive: Thus wc 
 find the academy of the .'Ihbandonuli, .icerbi, Afflati, Af- 
 fettuosi, Acuti, Agitati, J.iinatici, Insipidi, Onibrosi, Fv- 
 mosi, Incjuieti, and above an hundred others of a similar 
 kind, an account of which will be found in Alazzuchelli'n 
 Scrittori D'ltalia. Instead therefore of attempting to 
 give a particular account of all the Italian academies, 
 wc shall confine our attention to some of the most re- 
 markable. 
 
 So early as the year 1345, an association was formed 
 by the painters of Venice, imder the protection of St 
 Luke, for the improvement of their own art. Another 
 of the same kmd, called the society of St Luke, was 
 established at Florence in 135(i, under the particular 
 patronage ot the house of Medici. These early insti- 
 tutions, though they had not then obtained the name of 
 academies, were yet the same in their nature, and served 
 as a model for many other academical institutions, which 
 afterwards arose in different parts of the continent. 
 
 In the I5th century, an academy had been established 
 at Naples, in the reign of Alphonso I. by Antonio Bec- 
 catelli, and several other eminent men, whom that patron 
 of letters had attracted to his court. After the death of 
 Beccatelli, the charge of the academy devolved upon Pon- 
 tano, under whose direction it rose to a considerable 
 degree of respectability. It not only contained the chief 
 literati at Naples, but had associated to itself for honora- 
 ry members, the most eminent scholars in other parts of 
 Europe. The place where it met was dcnom.inated the 
 Portico. We are informed by Apostolo Zeno,that Ber- 
 nardo Christoforo, a learned Neapolitan, had written the 
 history of this early institution, in a work intitled, .4cade- 
 mia Pontani; give Vita illustriitm virorum, qui cum Jo. 
 Joz'iano Pontano, J\''eafioH floruere : But the manuscript 
 is now lost. See Roscoe's Life of Leo X. 
 
 A new academy was established at Naples in 178", un- 
 der the title of Reali Acadcmia delle Scirnze et Belle 
 Lettere di Kalioli. The first volume of their Transac- 
 tions was published at Naples in 1788. in 4to. 
 
 In the 15th century, under the pontificate of Paul II. 
 an attempt was made to establish in Rome an academy 
 for the study of antiquities : but the jealousy of that 
 haughty and ignorant pontiff defeated the plan by doom- 
 ing to imprisonment and death, some of the most emi- 
 nent scholars of that time. Under the auspices of Leo 
 X. the plan was carried into execution, and the acade- 
 my continued long in a flourishing state. It, however, 
 fell gradually into decay, but gave birth to others of 
 greater celebrity. 
 
 I 2
 
 tin 
 
 ACADExMY. 
 
 About the lakldlc of the lollowing century, an acade- 
 my was established at Rossano, in the kingdom of Na- 
 ples, called La Hocieta Hciemifica Jiomune/ise Dei;l' In- 
 curiosi. ^ 
 
 About the year 1560, an academy was formed at Na- 
 ples, in the house of Baptista Porta, called, Acadcmia Se- 
 rretontm J\l'atiirx, which had for its object the investiga- 
 tion of physical science. Its founder having recently 
 returned from his travels, communicated the informa- 
 tion which he had collected to his fellow-members, 
 who, in their turn, imparted the knowledge which they 
 had individuallv obtained. The church of Rome, how- 
 ever, becoming jealous of this flourishing association, 
 put an end to its meetings, lest the diflusion of know- 
 ledge should undermine the foundation of the Catholic 
 faith. 
 
 The Academy of Secrets was succeeded by the Aca- 
 demia Li/ncei, established at Rome in the beginning of 
 the 17th century, by prince Frederick Cesi, for the ad- 
 vancement of physical science. It was composed of the 
 roost eminent philosophers of the age, among whom was 
 the illustrious Galileo. 
 
 About the close of the same century, another academy 
 was formed at Rome, for reviving the study of poetry 
 and belles lettres. It was named Jrcadi, from a regu- 
 lation that required all the members to appear masked 
 like shepherds of Arcadia. Ladies were admitted to 
 this academy, and in the space of ten years its mem- 
 bers amounted to the number of 600. They held their 
 meetings seven times a-year in a meadow or grove, or 
 in the garden of some nobleman of distinction. All the 
 members of the academy assiuned, at their admission, 
 new pastoral names, in imitation of the ancient Arcadians. 
 There were diflfcrent branches of this institution through- 
 out Italy, which were regulated after the same manner. 
 About the middle of the 1 6th century, an academy 
 was instituted at Umidi in Florence, in honour of the 
 grand duke Cosmo I. who, in 1549, declared himself its 
 protector. It was afterwards called Academia la Flo- 
 rentina, and goes under the name of the Florentine Aca- 
 demy. Its chief attention was directed to the Italian 
 poetry. It has produced many excellent works, and for 
 these two last centuries has included most of the eminent 
 characters in Italy. 
 
 The Acadcmia delta Crusca, or Academia Furfurato- 
 rum, the Bran Academy, was so named probably from 
 the nature of its institution, the design of which was to 
 polish and improve the Italian language, to sift the words, 
 as it were, and reject all such as were barbarous, or of 
 doubtful authority. It was formed in 1582, but was lit- 
 tle known till two years after, when it attracted notice on 
 account of a dispute between Tasso and some of its 
 members. The chief work which it has produced, is an 
 Italian Dictionai-y, a well known work of great merit. 
 In this academy, Toricelli, the disciple of Galileo, de- 
 livered many of his philosophical discourses. It is now 
 united with two others, viz. the Fiorenlina and A/iatista, 
 under the name of the Reali Acadcmia Fiorentina. 
 
 The Academia della Crusca was followed by another 
 academy at Florence, under the name of Del Cimento. 
 It arose towards the beginning of the 17th century, un- 
 der the protection of prince Leopold, afterwards Cardi- 
 nal de Medicis; and numbered among its members 
 Paul del Buono, who, in 1657, invented an instrument 
 to prove the incompressibility of water; Alphonso Bo- 
 relli, celebrated for his book dr Motu Animalium ; count 
 Lawrence Magalotti, who, in 1677, ptiblished % book of 
 
 curious experiments, under the title of Saffffi di Natu- 
 ral Fsfiericnzc, a copy of which being presented to the 
 Royal Society of LonUon, was translated uito English by 
 Mr Waller, and published in 4lo, in 1684;— together 
 with other philosophers of equal reputation. 
 
 Academia /Jorionicnsi/), was founded at Bologna, by 
 Eustachio Manfredi, in 1690. At the early age of six- 
 teen, this young man associated to himself some of his 
 companions, with the view of discussing those subjects, 
 to which, in the course of their studies, their attention 
 was directed. They held stated meetings in the apart- 
 ment of Manfredi, and appointed beioiehand the sub- 
 jects that were to be discussed. Their armorial badge 
 was the planetary system, surrounded by a serpent hold- 
 ing its tail hi its mouth; and their motto. Mom Ajfitae ; 
 from which they assumed the name of Intjuicti. The 
 members of this academy gradually increased, and many 
 of them attained the highest literary and scientific ho- 
 nours. In 1704, J. B. Morgagni being made director, 
 new-modelled the academy, with the assistance of E. 
 Manfredi and Stancarius ; banished, in a great measure, 
 the useless speculations of the schoolmen; and introdu- 
 ced the mode of philosophizing, which has been since 
 followed with so much success. In 1714, this academy 
 was united with the Bononian Institute, which was a kind 
 of college under the protection of the senate, and richly 
 endowed by Clement XI. and Benedict XIV. as well as 
 by the liberality of private individuals. Hence it obtain- 
 ed tlie name of the Academy of the Insritute, and the di- 
 rector was named president. Not only were persons of 
 both sexes admitted members of this academy, but seve- 
 ral ladies were raised to professorships. Of these, Anna 
 Manzolini was professor of anatomy ; and Laura Bassi, 
 who died in 1778, was renowned for her knowledge of 
 the abstruse sciences. "The place in which the acade- 
 my met," says count Stolberg, " is an enormous build- 
 ing, which contains above forty apartments, with many 
 halls under them. The learned have assured me, that 
 the cabinet of natural history is not only amply provided 
 with the wealth of nature, in every division of her three 
 kingdoms, but the specimens, especially the fossils, are 
 peculiarly fine. The library is said to contain above 
 120,000 volumes, not including the numerous and valua- 
 ble manuscripts which fill a whole apartment ; and the 
 separate apartments that are allotted for study, are fur- 
 nished with an individual library for each science. The 
 celebrated hall of anatomy is large, and well supplied 
 with waxen models of all the parts of the human body. 
 The large and valuable collection of philosophical instru- 
 ments, which belonged to the late lord Cowper, was 
 purchased by some private citizens of Bologna, and pre- 
 sented to the institution." See Stolberg's Travels, vol. 
 i. p. 265, 4to. The Commentarii Bononienses were se- 
 lected from the early productions of the institution ; and 
 the first volume appeared at Bologna in the year 1748, 
 to which is prefixed an account of the nature and early 
 history of the academy. Since that time, a considera- 
 ble number of volumes have been published. 
 
 There was also an academy instituted at Bologna in 
 1687; the object of which was to examine the doctrine, 
 discipline, and history of the church. 
 
 A Cosmographical Academy was founded at Venice, by 
 Vincent Coronelli, about the beginning of the 18th cen- 
 tury, for the extension of geographical knowledge. 
 The device of the academy was the terraqueous globe, 
 with the motioplus ultra. The members took the title 
 of Arge:naut'f, All the globes, maps, and geographical
 
 ACADEMY. 
 
 69 
 
 writings of Coronelli, have beeu published at the expense 
 
 of the aciiclcmy. 
 
 The tioi/al Jlcaclcmy of Siitnces at Tur'm., was insti- 
 tuted about the middle of the 18lh century. It began to 
 publish its memoirs in 1759, in 4to, under the title of 
 Miscellunia Fhilusofihko-Mathematka Hocictatis /irivatx 
 Taurinennis, znd was honoured with several papers by the 
 illustrious La Gra\ige. In consequence of the annexa- 
 tion of Turin to France, this academy was new modelled, 
 and received tlie name of the Im/ierial Academy of 
 Scie?ices, Literature and the Fine Arts., at Turin. Two 
 4to vols, of its memoirs have been published for 1 804 
 and 1805 ; one of which contains papers on literature 
 and the fine arts ; and the other, a history of the academy, 
 by the secretary VopaliEandi. 
 
 The Academy of Sciences at Siena, instituted by prince 
 Leopold in 1767, published their transactions in a con- 
 siderable number of volumes ; of which the first ap- 
 peared m 1771, and the 7th in 1794, in 4to, under the 
 title of Atti dell' Academia di Siena. 
 
 The Academy of Padua, was established towards the 
 end of the 18th century; and in 1794, had published 
 three volumes of their ti'ansactions, under the title of 
 Saggi Scienlifica e Literari dell ' Academia di Padova. 
 
 Those who wish for farther information respecting the 
 Italian Academies, may consult V'ockerodt Introductio 
 in JVotitiam. Sue. Litt.Jenx, 1587. J. Reiskius,P?-o^ram- 
 ma dc Pinacothecis, et Soc. Doct. in Eurofia. Diction- 
 naire de Trevoux. Sachius Grammarologia. Fureterius 
 Diet. Historique des Oiivrages des Siaz'ons ; and the 
 Memoirs of the Academies themselves. 
 
 French Academies. Having taken a general view 
 of some of the most celebrated Italian academies, we 
 shall now give an account of the academical institutions 
 in France. The first of these that claims our notice is 
 the Academic Pranpise, or the French Academy, which 
 was established by Cardinal Richelieu in 1635, for the 
 purpose chiefly of improving tlie French language, 
 though its plan also comprehended grammar, poetry, 
 and eloquence. This academy has produced many ex- 
 cellent works ; but it is chiefly celebrated for its dic- 
 tionary of the French tongue, which, after a labour of 
 about 50 years, was published in 1694. It has gone 
 through several editions, and the academy, till its aboli- 
 tion by the Convention, was employed in improving it. 
 The histoiy of the academy, to the year 1692, is written 
 by M. Pelisson, and continued to the year 1706 by M. 
 I'Abbfe d'Olivet. 
 
 The French Academy was followed by that of Paint- 
 ing and Sculfiture. So far back as the end of the 14th 
 century, we find an institution established at Paris, under 
 the title of the Academy of St Luke. In 1430, Charles 
 VII. conferred upon it many privileges, which were 
 confirmed by Henry III. in 1584. It was afterwards 
 united with the Society of Sculptors, who had a house 
 near St Denys, where they held their meetings, and dis- 
 tributed their annual prizes. This institution had fallen 
 into decay, till it was revived by Le Brun, Sarazin, Cor- 
 neille, and some other eminent painters and sculptors, 
 ■who are generally considered as its founders. There 
 were twelve professors, each of whom attended a month 
 in the year, and in case of absence, their place was sup- 
 plied by twelve adjuncts. The academists drew after 
 the model of a naked man, whom the attending professor 
 set in two different attitudes every week. This was 
 called, setting the model. In one of the weeks of the 
 month he placed two models together, which was called, 
 
 setting the grouft. The paintings and models formed 
 after this standard, were called Academics, or Academy 
 Figures. They had likewise a naked woman, who stood 
 for a model in the public school. Three prizes for de- 
 sign were distributed among the scholars every three 
 months : two for painting, and two for sculpture, every 
 year. An account of this academy has been published 
 by Guerin, under the title of Descri/ition de I' Academic 
 lioyule de Peinture et de Scul/Uure. 
 
 While France, from the time of Henry IV. had been 
 rapidly advancing in opulence and power, it was also 
 making great progress in science and learning. Two 
 great literary institutions had already been formed, the 
 labours of which contributed greatly to animate the 
 French to new exertions. This appeared in the forma- 
 tion of an academy at Paris by M. Colbert, in 1663, under 
 the patronage of the king ; the object of which was to 
 study and explain ancient monuments, and to preserve 
 the memory of important events, particularly those of 
 the French monarchy, by coins, inscriptions, relievos, &c. 
 It consisted at first of only four members, Messrs 
 Charpentier, Quinalt, I'Abbe Tallemant, and Felibien, 
 who were chosen from the Academie Frangoise, and 
 met in the library of M. Colbert. From the small num- 
 ber of its members, it was at first named Petite Academie ; 
 but about the year 1691, it began to obtain the name of 
 Academie Royale des Inscri/itions et Medailles. 
 
 The academy first directed their attention to devices 
 for the hangings of the palace at Versailles, and for 
 ships, buildings, &c. They then proceeded to give 
 plans of the king's conquests, with views and descrip- 
 tions of the cities and principal places. At last they lut- 
 dertook a medallic history of the king's reign, which, 
 after several interruptions, was brought down to the ac- 
 cession of the duke of Anjou to the crown of Spain. 
 In this history, the establishment of the academy itself 
 was not forgotten. One of the medals represents Mer- 
 cury sitting, and writing with an ancient stylus upon a 
 brass table. His left hand is supported upon an urn full 
 of medals, and at his feet there are several other medals 
 placed upon a card. The legend, Rerum gestarum 
 fides, and the exergue, Academia Regia inscri/itionum et 
 vumismatum instituta M.DC.LXIII. signifies that the 
 Royal Academy of Inscriptions and Medals ought to 
 give to future ages a faithful testimony of great actions. 
 The memoirs of the academy are published in a great 
 number of volumes, in which the eloges of the mem- 
 bers are written by the secretary. Their motto is^ 
 Vetat mori. 
 
 The academies at Paris already mentioned were in a 
 great measure eclipsed by the Royal Academy of Sci- 
 ences which was established in 1666, by Louis XIV. 
 When the peace of t!ie Pyrenees allowed this monarch 
 to rest from his conquests, he instructed his minister 
 Colbert, to form a society of men distinguished for their 
 learning and talents, who should meet under the royal 
 protection, and commimicate their respective disco- 
 veries. Agreeably to these instructions, Colbert se- 
 lected some of those who were most celebrated for their 
 knowledge in physics, mathematics, history, and the 
 belles lettres, to form the new institution. The members 
 were arranged into four distinct classes, and had tlieir 
 meetings appointed on different days. But the classes of 
 history and belles lettres were afterwards taken from it, 
 and united to the French academy ; so that there remain- 
 ed only the classes of mathematics and natural philoso- 
 phy. At this early period, the academy published, in
 
 70 
 
 ACADE^IY. 
 
 1692-3, some fugitive piec.es, which had been read in the 
 meetings of these years, but which were too short for 
 separate publication ; and many of the academicians re- 
 ceived considerable pensions from the king. 
 
 In 1699, at the suijgestion of the Abbe Cignon, who 
 had long been president, it obtained a new set of regula- 
 tions ; according to which its members were divided 
 into honorary, pensionaries, or those who received sala- 
 ries from the king, associates, and cleves. 
 
 In 17 16, the duke of Orleans, with the authority of the 
 king, suppressed the class of elevcs, and established in 
 its place 12 adjuncts, to whom he gave the power of 
 voting in matters of science. The number of honorary 
 members was increased to 12 ; and a class of associates 
 was created to the number of six, who were not confined 
 to any particular department of science. It underwent 
 still farther changes in the year 1785. The king added 
 classes of natural history, agriculture, mineralogy, and 
 physics, and incorporated the associates and adjuncts, 
 limiting the members of each class to six. These 
 classes were composed of persons celebrated for their 
 literary and scientific attainments. There were besides 
 a perpetual secretary and treasurer ; twelve free asso- 
 ciates, and eight associate foreigners. 
 
 This academy has done more to promote the progress 
 of science, than any other upon the continent. It has 
 repeatedly sent otit persons to make observations in 
 different parts of the world, and has been at great pains 
 in computing the meridian. Since the re-establishment 
 of the academy, in 1699, it has annually published a 
 cjuarlo volume, containing the papers that have been 
 read in it during that year. A history of the academy, 
 together with an epitome of its memoirs, has been pre- 
 fixed to each volume ; and at the end of the history are 
 eulogiums on such academists as have died in the course 
 of the year. The Abbe Rozier has published, in four 
 4to volumes, an excellent index to the whole, from its 
 commencement to the year 1770. M. Rouille de Meslay, 
 founded two prizes, one of 2500, and the other of 2000 
 livres, to be distributed every year alternately. The 
 subject of the first related to physical astronomy ; that of 
 the latter, to navigation and commerce. Besides these 
 prizes, and the salaries which were regularly paid to the 
 pensionaries, extraordinary gratuities were sometimes 
 given, and sucli expenses defrayed as were necessarily 
 incurred in making experiments. 
 
 The memoirs of the academy, from its commence- 
 ment till the year 1793, when it was abolished by the 
 Convention, are comprehended in 139 volumes, in 4to ; 
 11 from its foundation to its re-establishment in 1699 ; 
 92 from 1699 to 1790; the year 1772 containing two 
 volumes ; 1 1 of memoirs presented to the academy by 
 learned foreigners ; nine of prizes ; nine of tables to 
 1780; and seven of drawings of machines. 
 
 The history of the academy, to the year 1697, was 
 written by Duhamel, and continued from year to year by 
 Fontenelle, under the following titles ; Dvliarnel Histo- 
 ria Re,^iie ylcadeiriiix Scientiarum. Histoire de I' ylcademie 
 Roijale des Sciences., avec les Mcnioiren de Alathematique 
 ct de P/iysiqur, tirez dez Kegistrcs de I'ylcadeniie. His- 
 toire de rAcademie Roijate des Sciences, defntis son esln- 
 tlissement en I666,jusgu'e>i 1699 en 13 tomes ito. In 
 latter times, the history of the academy was prefixed to 
 each volume. Their motto is Invenit el fierfecit. This 
 academy having been abolished at tlie Revolution, a new 
 one was established in its place under the name of the 
 J^'aiional Institute ; for an account of which, see Institute. 
 
 ■ The Royal Academy of Surgery was instituted at Paris 
 in 1731, and confirmed by letters patent in 1748. The 
 object ot this institution is not merely to conmiunicate 
 the observations and discoveries of its members, but also 
 to give an account of whatever is written on surgery. 
 All the regular surgeons in Paris are members of this 
 academy. Forty members are coimsellors of a perpe- 
 tual committee, and there arc twenty adjuncts. A ques- 
 tion is proposed yearly, and a gold medal of the value 
 of 300 livres is given to him who can produce the best 
 answer. Their transactions have been published in a 
 considerable number of volumes. 
 
 Besides these, the French have many other academies 
 of less note ; viz. The Academic des jcux Floratix, esta- 
 blished at Thoulouse, consisting of 40 members, and one 
 of the most ancient m tlie kingdom. The Royal Academy 
 of Sciences and Polite I^ittrature at Thoulouse, whose 
 transactions have been published in a considerable num- 
 ber of volumes, the first of which appeared in 1782, in 
 4to. The academy at Caen, founded by letters patent, in 
 1705. The academy at Rouen, established in 1736, by 
 M. Le Cat, who was its perpetual secretary. There 
 were also academies founded at Bourdeaux, 1703 ; Sois- 
 sons, 1675 ; Marseilles, 1726 ; Dijon, Orleans, Pan, Be- 
 zigrs, Montauban, Metz, Amiens, 1750 ; Chalons, Naiici, 
 &c. At Dijon, there is a very handsome saloon, belong- 
 ing to the academy, ornamented with the busts of the 
 eminent men whom that city has produced. Among 
 these are Bossuet, Fevret, De Brosses, Crebillon, Pyron, 
 and Buffon. 
 
 German Academies. The establishment of acade- 
 mies in Italy, France, and England, animated the Ger- 
 mans to establish institutions of a similar kind. The 
 works of lord Bacon, in particular, inspired the nations 
 of Europe with new ardour hi the prosecution of sci- 
 ence ; and to them, chiefly, Bucknerus ascribes the in- 
 stitution of the Academia J^'a'urx Curiosorum. This 
 academy was first begun by M. Bausch, a celebrated 
 phvsicianin Swinfurth, a city in the circle of Fi'anconia. 
 Having associated with himself some other physicians, 
 he drew up a set of rules, which constituted the founda- 
 tion of this new institution, the object of which was the 
 communication of new and important physical discove- 
 ries. Their first meeting was held on January 1, 1652, 
 when Bausch was elected president, and, at the same 
 meeting, two adjuncts were chosen, whose office it was 
 toassistthe president. Every six months the president 
 proposed to each of the members a subject connected 
 with zoology, botany, or mineralogy ; and the memoirs, 
 which were written on these subjects, were published 
 in a detached form. 
 
 In 1670, they resolved to publish a volume annually; 
 and the first volume, which consisted of pieces printed 
 at different times, appeared at Leipsic, in 1684, under 
 the title of H/ihemerides, which was followed by other 
 volumes, with some interruptions, and variations of the 
 title. In 1 687, the academy was taken under the pro- 
 tection of the emperor Leopold, who conferred upon it 
 several privileges, and raised its students to the dignity 
 of counts Palatine of the Roman empire. From him too, 
 it obtained the name of Cusareo-Leo/iotdina A'aturx Cu- 
 riosorum Academia. Every member was required to 
 have for the symbol of the academy, a gold ring, on 
 which was an open book, having an eye on the front of 
 it. On the other side was the motto of the academy, 
 Nunc/uam Otiosus. A histoiy of this institution has been 
 written by Buchner, one of its presidents, under the ti-
 
 ACADEMY. 
 
 71 
 
 tie of, Buchncri Hisl<jria Acadnnix Mitiira: Cinio'sorum, 
 4to, Hal. 1756. An account otil will also be found in llic 
 prefaces and appendices to tlic volumes of its transactions. 
 
 Other academics of the same name were established 
 in different jiarts of the continent ; viz. one at Palermo 
 in 16-15; one in Spain in 1652; one at Venice in 1701; 
 and another at Geneva in 1715. 
 
 yyie lioyal Academy of Hciaiccs at Berlin was found- 
 ed in 1700, by Frederick I, king of Prussia, after the 
 model of the Royal Society of London ; with this differ- 
 ence, that, along with natural phi!o^ophy and mathema- 
 tics, it comprehended also the belles lettres. A new set 
 of regulations were framed in 1710, by which the presi- 
 dent was to be a chancellor of state, and to be recom- 
 mended by the king. The academy was divided into 
 four classes: the first embraced physics, medicine, and 
 chemistry ; the second, mathematics, astronomy, and 
 mechanics; the third, the German language, and the 
 history of the country ; the fourth, oriental learning, par- 
 ticularly as it related to the propagation of the Gospel 
 among infidels. Each of these classes had a director, 
 who held his office for life. They met once a-week in 
 their turn; and the members of any one of the classes 
 had free admission to the meetings of the rest. 
 
 M. Leibnitz, who was the great promoter of this insti- 
 tution, was appointed its first director. In 1710, the 
 members began to publish their transactions, under the 
 title oi Miscellanea Berrjlinennia ; and, though they re- 
 ceived little patronage from the successor of Frederick 
 1. they continued to publish new volumes in 1723, 1727, 
 1754, 1737, and 1740. In 1743, Frederick III. gave new 
 vigour to their proceedings. This monarch, equally 
 distinguished by his talents in peace and in war, invited 
 to the academy, from the different countries of Europe, 
 the most eminent literary men, and encouraged among 
 his subjects the cultivation of the sciences, by proposing 
 to them suitable rewards. Conceiving that it would be 
 of advantage to the academy, which, till that time, had 
 been under the direction of some minister, or opulent 
 uobleman, to have a man of letters for its president, he 
 conferred that honour on M. Maupertuis. At the same 
 time, he gave it new regulations, and assumed the title 
 of its protector. There was a particular class for logic 
 and metaphysics; which was named the class of S/iecula- 
 tive Philosojihy. There were two public meetings an- 
 nually, one in January, and the other in May, at the lat- 
 ter of which a gold medal, of the value of 50 ducats, was 
 given for the best dissertation on some appointed sub- 
 ject. 
 
 In 1798, his Prussian majesty introduced some new 
 regulations into the academy. A directory was chosen 
 for the management of its funds, consisting of a pi csi- 
 dent, the four directors of the classes, and two members 
 to be chosen, not from the academy, but from men of bu- 
 siness, who should be at the same time men of learning, 
 and capable of conducting the economical affairs of the 
 institution. The academy had the power of choosing 
 members ; but the king, of confirming or rejecting them. 
 The public library at Berlin, with the collection of natu- 
 ral curiosities, was united to the academy, and intrusted 
 to its direction. The great end of these regidations was 
 to turn the attention of the academy to objects of real 
 utility ; to excite the national industry, by improving the 
 arts ; to purify the different systems of moral and literary 
 education ; and to oppose the prejudices of the people, 
 as well as the licentious and destructive efforts of false 
 philosophers. 
 
 Since 1743, the transactions of this academy have bccti 
 regularly puljlished in agreat numljcrof volumes, vnider 
 the title of Meinoires de CAcadimie livyule den Hciencen 
 et Belles LettrcH a Berlin. A full account of it will be 
 found in a book intitled, llint'jirc dc C Academic Kuyule 
 des Sciences et Belles l.ctlres a Berlin. IlXxc Miscellanea 
 Berolinensia were publi-shed in 7 vols. 4to, from 1710 to 
 1743. The History and Memoirs of the Academy of 
 Berlin appeared in 25 vols. 4to, from 1746 to 1771; and 
 the New Memoirs of the same academy in 16 vols, from 
 1771 to 1787. Another volume appeared in 17y2. 
 
 The Academy of Surg-ery at Vienna was instituted in 
 1783, by the present emperor Francis II. under the 
 direction of Brambilla. It had at first only two profes- 
 sors, who were intrusted with the education of 130 young 
 men, 30 of whom had been surgeons in the army. But 
 the nimiber both of teachers and students has been much 
 increased. The emperor has provided for them a large 
 and splendid building in Vienna, which contains accom- 
 modation both for the teachers and the students ; for 
 clinical lectures, pregnant women, patients and servants. 
 There is also belonging to the institution, a medical 
 library, a complete set of chirurgical instruments, an ap- 
 paratus for experiments in natural philosophy, a collec- 
 tion of specimens in natural history, a number of ana- 
 tomical and pathological preparations, a collection of 
 preparations in wax, brought from Florence, and various 
 other useful articles. There is also a good botanical 
 garden adjacent to the building. Three prize medals, 
 of the value of 40 florins each, are bestowed upon those 
 students who retiu'n the best answers to the questions 
 proposed in the preceding year. These prize essays 
 are annually collected and published. 
 
 The Academy of Painting, Sculpture, and Architec- 
 ture., was founded at Vienna in 1705, with the view of 
 encouraging and promoting the fine arts. 
 
 The Electoral Academy at Erfurt was founded by the 
 Elector of Mentz in 1754, for the purpose of promoting 
 the useful sciences. It consists of a protector, a pre- 
 sident, a director, assessors, adjuncts, and associates. 
 
 The first volume of their Memoirs, which are all in 
 Latin, appeared in 1757, in I2mo. In 17S4, they began 
 to publish in 4to, and in their own language. In 1799, 
 they changed the form of their volumes to 8vo, since 
 which time only one volume has reached this countiy. 
 
 The Electoral Bavarian Academy of Sciences at 
 3/!i7!/c-/i, established in 1759, published its memoirs under 
 the title of Ab/iandlungen der Baierischcn Academic, 
 Munich, 1763. 
 
 The Hessian Academy of Sciences at Giessen publish- 
 ed its transactions, with the title of Acta Philosofihico- 
 medica Academic: Scientiarumfirinci/ialis Hessiacx. GiessXj 
 1761. 
 
 The Academy of Sciences at Manheim was established 
 by Charles Theodore, Elector Palatine, in 1775, accord- 
 ing to a plan of the learned Schepflin, and divided into 
 two classes ; viz. the historical, and the physical. The 
 latter, in 1780, was divided into the physical, properly 
 so called, and the meteorological. The papers of the aca- 
 demy have been published in 1 1 volumes 4to, under the 
 title of Acta Aeademia Tluodoro-Palatina. The me- 
 teorological observations, after 1781, form 12 volumes 
 4to, with the title of Efiliemt^rides Societatis Miteorolo- 
 gica Palatini. An academy of Arts was instituted at 
 Manheim in 1757 ; but it has been since transferred to 
 Dusseldorf. 
 
 An academy was instituted at Tubingen, under the tJ-
 
 72 
 
 ACADEMY. 
 
 tie of The Academy of Siuablan Hietory, for the purpose of 
 publishing the best historical writings, and the lives of 
 ilic chief liisloriaiis, and tor compiling new historical me- 
 moirs. 
 
 The Royal Academy of Sciencr.i at Brussels publish- 
 ed their memoirs in a great number of volumes ; tlie 
 fust of which appeared in 1777, and the fifth in 1788, in 
 4to. 
 
 Spanish and Portuguese Academies. The Royal 
 Sjianish Academy was csUtblished at Madrid in 1714. 
 It was projected by llie duke d'Escalona, and havmg 
 received the approbation oi the king, it was taken under 
 his royal protection. It consisted at first of eight mem- 
 bers, including the duke, who was maue president, or 
 director, and a secretary ; to whom 14 others were af- 
 terwards added. Its device is a crucible upon the fire, 
 with this motto, Limfxia Fya y da Lspkndor ; It /lurifes, 
 fixes, and gives brightness, The object of the academy 
 is to cultivate and improve the national language ; and, 
 for this purpose, it was recommended to them, in the 
 royal declaration, to compose a dictionary, in which the 
 words and phrases, used by the best Spanish writers, 
 might be distinguished from such as were low, bar- 
 barous, or obsolete. The academy was to have its own 
 prmter ; but it was not permitted to put any thing to 
 press without an order of the council. The academi- 
 cians, too, had all the privileges and immunities enjoy- 
 ed by the domestic officers in the king's service, and in 
 the royal palace. There is also at Madrid a Royal Aca- 
 demy of History, and an Academy of Painting, establish- 
 ed in 1752. 
 
 The Royal Academy of Portuguese History at Lisbon 
 was mstituted in 1720, by king John V. It consists of 
 a director, four censors, a secretary, and 50 members, 
 to each of whom is assigned some portion of the civil 
 or ecclesiastical history of the nation, which he may 
 compose either in Portuguese or in Latin. The mem- 
 bers, who reside in the country, are obliged to make ex- 
 tracts out of all the registers, &c. in the places where 
 they live, and to collect whatever may serve to illustrate 
 the history of the kingdom. A medal was struck by the 
 academy in honour of their founder ; on the front of 
 which was his effigy, with this inscription, Joannes V. 
 Lusitanorum Rex ; and, on the reverse, the same prince 
 is represented standing, and raising History, almost 
 prostrate before him, with this inscription, Historia re- 
 surges. Underneath are the following words ; Regia 
 Academia Historic Lusitanix Instittita vi Jdus Decembris 
 
 JIDCCXX. 
 
 The Roi/al Academy of Sciences at Lisbon, was found- 
 ed in 1779 by the duke de Lafoens, uncle to the queen. 
 The sovereign is the immediate patron, and the founder 
 is president. It is divided into three classes, that of na- 
 tural science, mathematics, and national literature. It 
 is composed of 60 members ; of these, 24 are regular 
 and ordinary ; of the rest, a few foreigners, and some of 
 high rank in the nation, are honorary ; some are veteran 
 members, and a considerable number are extra-cor- 
 respondents. They have an allowance from govern- 
 ment, which has enabled them to establish an observa- 
 toiT, a museum, a library, and a printing-office. There 
 are several volumes of its transactions, the first of which 
 was published at Lisbon in 1797. 
 
 Russian Academies. When many of the nations 
 of Europe were enlarging, by their disceveries, the 
 boundaries of knowledge, the Russians were still in 
 a state of comparative barbarity. Peter the Great, during 
 
 his travels iu 1717, having observed tlie beneficial ef- 
 fects of literary institutions in promoting civilization, 
 resolved to establish an academy in his own capital. 
 With this view, he consulted the most eminent scholars 
 about the regulations which it might be proper to adopt. 
 But after having completed the plan, his death, in 1725, 
 prevented him from seeing it put in execution. His 
 successor, Catharine, who was well acquainted with his 
 views, finished what he had so auspiciously begun, and 
 established on the plan of tlic academy of Pans, one of 
 the most celebrated scientific institutions in Europe, un- 
 der the title of The Royal Academy of Sciences at Pttera- 
 burgh. Its first public meeting was held on the 27th 
 December 1725, in presence of the duke of Hoistein, 
 and a great number of persons of distinction. 
 
 On the 1st of August 1726, Catharine attended the Aca- 
 demy ; when professor Bulfinger delivered an oration 
 upon the advantages derived from the loadstone and the 
 needle tor the discovery of the longitude. The empress 
 settled a fund of 4982/. per anum, for the support of the 
 academy, and fifteen members, eminent for their learning 
 and talents, were admitted, under the title of professors in 
 the different branches of literature and science, with sala- 
 ries appointed to them from the public fund. The most 
 eminent of these professors were Nicholas and Daniel 
 Bernoulli, the two De Lisles, Bulfinger, and Wolf. 
 
 Under the short reign of Peter II. the salaries of the 
 members were withdrawn, and the academy was alto- 
 gether neglected by the court. It was again patronized 
 by the empress Anne, and flourished for some time under 
 the direction of Baron Korf ; but, upon his death, towards 
 the end of Anne's reign, an ignorant person was appoint- 
 ed president, and many of the most able members quit- 
 ted the kingdom. It again revived upon the accession 
 of Elizabeth ; the original plan was enlarged ; an aca- 
 demy of arts was added in 1758, but again separated from 
 it in 1764. Men of learning were a second time encou- 
 raged to settle at Pctersburgh ; and the annual fund was 
 increased to 10,659/. 
 
 Catharine II. took the academy more immediately un- 
 der her protection ; corrected many of its abuses, and in- 
 fused new vigour into its proceedings. To obtain infor- 
 mation respecting the nature and state of her vast em- 
 pire, she encouraged men of talents to visit the difl'erent 
 provinces ; for which purpose she granted a largess of 
 3000/. to be renewed as occasion might require. These 
 travellers were instructed by the academy to make in- 
 quiries concerning the different sorts of soil and water ; 
 tlie best metliod of cultivating barren and desert spots ; 
 the local disorders incident to men and animals, and the 
 best means of relieving them; the breeding of cattle, 
 and especially of sheep ; the rearing of bees and silk- 
 worms ; the proper places for fishing and hunting ; the 
 various minerals and plants ; and the different arts and 
 trades. They were also enjoined to determine, with ac- 
 curacy, the latitude and longitude of the chief towns ; 
 to make astronomical, geographical, and meteorological 
 observations ; to trace the course of rivers ; to take the 
 most exact charts ; and to observe the manners and 
 customs of the different nations, their language, antiqui- 
 ties, traditions, history, religion, dress ; and, in short, to 
 obtain every information which might tend to illustrate 
 the real state of the Russian dominions. The accounts 
 of these expeditions, undertaken by Pallas, Gmelin, Stol- 
 berg, Guldenstaedt, and other ingenious men, have 
 thrown much light upon the state of that extensive em- 
 pire. The academy is divided into three classes. . The
 
 ACADEMY. 
 
 first, comprehending astronomy and geography; the 
 second, physics and mathematics; and the third, me- 
 chanics. 
 
 The academy has an excellent library, consisting of 
 36,000 curious books and manuscripts, and an extensive 
 museum, in which avast collection of specimens, illus- 
 trative of natural history, arc deposited; an observatory, 
 &c. It has for its motto, Fauiatim. 
 
 The Transactions of this academy were first pub- 
 lished in 1728, under the title of Commcntarii Acad. 
 Sckntiarum Imjicrialis Pelrofiolilanx, ad an. 1726. This 
 series was continued till 1746, when, on account of some 
 new regulations, the title was changed to JVoin Com- 
 mentarii^^c. This last series went on till 1783, when 
 it was again changed to that of JVova Acta, &c. This 
 new series differed from the former, in having a history 
 of the proceedings of the academy, and also an abstract 
 of its memoirs, prefixed to each volume. The com- 
 mentaries were contained in 14 volumes. About 50 vo- 
 lumes of the new commentaries were published in La- 
 tin. During this series, the labours of the academi- 
 cians were considerably interrupted, on account of the 
 misconduct of some of the directors. In 1783, however, 
 by the appointment of a new director, the dissensions 
 subsidecl, and new ardour was given to its proceedings. 
 The Transactions of the academy abound with ingenious 
 and learned disquisitions upon various branches of know- 
 ledge, which show the rapid progress in science which 
 the Russians have made during the last century. The 
 princess Dashkofl" is at present the directress of this 
 academy. 
 
 T/ic Academy of Arts, was established at Peters- 
 burgh by the empress Elizabeth, at the suggestion of 
 count Shuvalof, with a fund of 40001. per annum for its 
 support. The number of scholars was limited to 40. It 
 was first annexed to the Academy of Sciences, and after- 
 wards formed into a separate institution, by the empress 
 Catharine. This princess augmented the annual fund to 
 12,000/. and the number of scholars to 300. She also 
 constructed a large circular building for the accomino- 
 dation of the academy. The scholars are admitted at 
 the age of six, and continue till they arrive at eighteen. 
 They are supported at the expense of the crown, and 
 are taught reading, writing, drawing, arithmetic, and 
 the French and German languages. Prizes are distri- 
 buted annually ; and, from those who have obtained 
 four, twelve arc selected, who are sent abroad at the ex- 
 pense of the empress ; and, when they settle in any 
 to^vn, they receive an annual salary of 60/. which is con- 
 tinued for four years. 
 
 Swedish Academies. The Boyal Academy of Scien- 
 ces at Stockholm, had its origin from six persons of dis- 
 tinguished learnmg, who, in 1759, formed a private 
 society for reading dissertations on literary subjects. 
 The celebrated Linnaeus was one of this number. The 
 character and talents of the founders soon procured them 
 a multitude of associates. The mstitution attracted ' 
 the public attention, and was incorporated by the king, 
 on the 31st March 1741, under the name of the Royal 
 Swedish Academy. Though the academy has acquired 
 great funds, by legacies and private donations, a pro- 
 fessor of experimental philosophy, and two secretaries, 
 are the only persons who receive any salaries. Each 
 of the members resident at Stockholm becomes presi- 
 dent by rotation, and continues in office during three 
 months. The dissertations read at each ineeting are 
 collected and published four times a-year, in 8vo. They 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 are written in the Swedish language ; and the annual 
 publications make a volume. The first volume was 
 published at the end of 1759, under tlie title of Kongl. 
 Svenska VetenHkciJin Acadcmiciis Handl'mt^ar, and the 
 work proceeded without interruption till the year 1779, 
 when a new series was begun under the title of Kongl. 
 Veten.ikafis Academicns A''ya Hatidling-ar ; the first of 
 which was published in 1780. The papeis relating to 
 agriculture, arc printed separately, under the title of 
 Jicouomica Acta, of which several volumes have been 
 published. Annual premiums, in money and gold me- 
 dals, principally for the encouragement of agriculture 
 and inland trade, are also distributed by the academy. 
 The fund for these prizes is supplied from private do- 
 nations. The funds of the academy, amounting, in 1800, 
 to 400/. are derived from the profits which arise from 
 the exclusive sale of almanacs. In 1799, the academy 
 was divided into seuen classes, viz. 1. Geniral and rural 
 economy, containing fifteen members ; 2. Commerce and 
 the mechanical arts, containing fifteen members ; 3. Ex- 
 terior Physics, and Natural History, containing fifteen 
 members ; 4. Interior Physics, and A''atural Philosophy, 
 containing fifteen members; 5. Mathematics, containing 
 eighteen members; 6. Tl/frf/c/???, containing fifteen mem- 
 bers; 7. Belles Lettres, History, Languages, contaming 
 twelve members. See Coxe's Travels, ii. 342 ; and 
 Acerbi's Travels, i. 111. 
 
 The Acadcjvy of Belles hcttres at Stockholm was in- 
 stituted by the queen-dowager, and protected by her 
 son Gustavus III. who established a fund for prizes, and 
 settled pensions on several of the members. The num- 
 ber of members is fixed at fifty; viz. 16 foreign, 14 
 honorary, and 20 ordinary members. The regulations 
 of the academy are nearly the same with those of the 
 Academy of Inscriptions at Paris. 
 
 The Swedish Academy, or the Eighteen, asit is called, 
 was instituted, in 1788, by Gustavus III. for the cul- 
 tivation of the Swedish language. The number of 
 members is 18; and tlie general arrangements of the 
 academy are somewhat similar to those of the Academic 
 Fran^oise. See Acerbi's Travels, i. 102, 105, 131. 
 
 At Stockholm there is also an Academy of Painting 
 and Scnl/iture, which has nine professors, and about 400 
 scholars. This academy distributes, annually, three 
 large and three small medals ; and the students who 
 distinguish themselves most are permitted to travel in- 
 to P' ranee and Italy at the expense of the institution. 
 
 The Academy of Antiquities at Ujisal was planned 
 and begun under queen Christina, and established by 
 her successor Charles Gustavus. Its object is, to illus- 
 trate the northern languages, and the antiquities of the 
 country, as stones, coins, Sec. For an account of the "Scr- 
 ciety at i7/;.5n/, see Society. 
 
 There is also an Academy of Belles Lettres at Abo. 
 
 Danish Academies. The Poyul Academy of Sciences 
 at Cofieyihagen, owes its orierin to the zeal of six scholars 
 whom Christian VI. in 1742, ordered to arrange his 
 cabinet of medals. Among these six was Pontoppidan, 
 the celebrated author of the Natural History of Nor- 
 way. These persons meeting occasionally for the pur- 
 pose for which they were appointed, gradually enlarged 
 their plans, associated with themselves others eminent 
 in science, and forming a kind of literary society, em- 
 ployed themselves in exploring and illustratin": the an- 
 tiquities of their country. The count of Holstein, A(ho 
 was the first president, warmly patronized this society ; 
 and recommended it so strongly to Christian VI. that, 
 
 K
 
 14 
 
 ACADE31Y. 
 
 in 1743, his Danish majesty took it under his protection, 
 called it the Royal Academy of Sciences, endowed it 
 with a fund, and ordered the members to join, to their 
 former pursuits, natural history, physics, and mathema- 
 tics. In consequence of the royal favour, new zeal was 
 diffused among its members ; and their Transactions 
 have been published in the Danish language, in a great 
 number of volumes, some of which have been translated 
 into Latin. Sec Coxe's Travels, vol. ii. p. 554. 
 
 American Academies. An academy in America, 
 similar to those in Europe, had been in contemplation 
 before the commencement of the American war, but it 
 was not carried into effect till the end of the year 1779. 
 At that time, notwithstanding the pressure of war, a 
 number of gentlemen applied to the legislature, and ob- 
 tained its sanction, for the establishment of a society, 
 with ample privileges, under the name of The American 
 Academy of Arts and Hciences. The object of the aca- 
 demy was to promote the various branches of know- 
 ledge. The first volume of its Transactions, consisting 
 of the communications that were received from its esla- 
 blisliment till the end of the year 1783, was published 
 at Boston, in 1785, in 4to. 
 
 The American Editors, not having before them the 
 entire plan of this work, are at a loss to understand the 
 reason of the distinction here made between Academies 
 expressly so called, and those learned institutions which 
 have adopted the less determinate appellation of Socie- 
 ties. Unless, perhaps, they should conceive the latter 
 name to be more properly applicable to those, which, 
 like the Royal Society of London and the American Phi- 
 losophical Society, devote themselves exclusively to the 
 investigation of the Physical and Mathematical Sciences. 
 This distinction, however, is not, and probably never 
 will be, universally adopted. On the continents of Ame- 
 rica and Europe, learned institutions have indifferently 
 assumed the name of Academy or that of Society, whether 
 their object was to promote the Physical or the Moral 
 Sciences. Thus the Economical Society of Berne had 
 merely in view the promotion and improvement of agri- 
 culture and other similar practical pursuits, while the 
 scientific Academies of Paris, Petersburgh, and Berlin, 
 devoted their learned researches to the higher branches 
 of astronomy, natural philosophy, and the mathematics. 
 In the United States, the same indiscriminate application 
 is made of those different denominations. Hence, if 
 we could have taken upon ourselves to alter in the least 
 the distribution of the different articles which compose 
 this work, we would have considered this as the proper 
 place to give an account of the American Philosophical 
 Society. But, being willing to adhere to our determi- 
 nation to give the original text to our readers in all its 
 integrity, we shall leave him to look for that article in 
 the proper place which has been allotted to it, and shall 
 content ourselves imder this head to give a short notice 
 of other American learned institutions on which the 
 original edition of this work is silent. 
 
 The Co7inecticut Academy of Sciences incorporated 
 by an act of the legislature of that state, was instituted 
 in the year 1799. Its object is the promotion of every 
 branch of useful knowledge. We have as yet only seen 
 one volume of their Transactions, printed at New-Haven, 
 in 1810 in octavo. 
 
 The TVfw York Society for the promotion of useful 
 Arts was at first established for mere agricultural pur- 
 
 For an account of the America?! PMtotofihical Soeiety, 
 see Society. 
 
 British Academies. The Royal Irish Academy, avo^c 
 from a society which was establislicd at Dublin about 
 the year 1782. This society consisted of an indefinite 
 number of members, chiefly belonging to the university j 
 who, at weekly meetings, read essays in rotation. Anxi- 
 ous to make their labours redound to the honour and 
 advantage of their country, thty formed a plan more 
 extensive ; and admitting such additional members only 
 as might add dignity to their new institution, or, by their 
 publications, had given sure ground to hope for advan- 
 tage from tneir labuurs, they became the founders of the 
 Royal Irish Academy. Tlie design of the academy is 
 very extensive, embracing whatever tends to promote 
 the advancement of the aits and sciences, the cultivation 
 of polite literature, and the knowledge of the anlicjui- 
 ties ot the country. In all these departments of know- 
 ledge, the society has furnished many excellent disser- 
 tations ; and the papers relating to polite literature are 
 more numerous than those of any other academy, which 
 is not wholly of a literary nature. They have already 
 published ten volumes of their Transactions ; the first 
 
 poses, under the name of the New York Agricultural 
 Society. In the year 1807, it extended the sphere of 
 its pursuits and assumed its present denomination. It 
 consists of the most respectable scientific and literary 
 characters in that state, under the patronage and presi- 
 dency of the venerable Robert R. Livingston. It has 
 not yet obtained a charter from the legislature of the 
 state, which will, no doubt, be granted, whenever it is 
 applied for. The first volume of its Transactions, under 
 its new organization, was printed at Albany in 1807. 8vo. 
 
 The Historical Society of Massachusetts deserves to 
 be mentioned in this place. It was instituted in 1791 ; 
 and its object is to collect and preserve all documents 
 eitlier manuscript or printed, which have a tendency to 
 throw light on the history of America. It has already 
 published several volumes of interesting memoirs ; of 
 which it has been observed with too much truth that 
 the greatest part of their contents relate to the local his- 
 tory of that portion of the United States, which is com- 
 monly called New England. A similar institution, on 
 a more enlarged scale, which perhaps would be best 
 established either at the seat of the federal government 
 or at the city of Philadelphia, is much wished for, and 
 would probably preserve many important but fugitive 
 documents which otherwise will be lost to our pos- 
 terity. , 
 
 The Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts was 
 founded in the year 1805, by tlie voluntary association 
 and contributions of a number of gentlemen of the city 
 of Philadelphia. It was soon after incorporated by the 
 legislature. The object of this institution is to improve 
 and refine the public taste in works of art, and to culti- 
 vate and encourage our native genius, by providing 
 elegant and improved specimens of the arts for imita- 
 tion, and schools for instruction. Its present president 
 is George Clymer, Esq. 
 
 There is a similar institution in the city of New 
 York. 
 
 There are also in the United States a great number 
 of Societies instituted for the promotion of various 
 branches of theoretical and practical knowledge, and 
 particularly of medicine and agriculture. Duponceav.
 
 ACADEMY. 
 
 75 
 
 of which appeared in 1788. Sec the Preface to the 1st 
 volume of the Transactions. 
 
 The Academy of Ancient j^/««/c was instituted at Lon- 
 don, m 1710, by several persons of distinction, and some 
 of the most eminent performers, with the view of pro- 
 moting the study and practice of vocal and instrumental 
 harmony. It had the advantage of a library, consisting 
 of the most celebrated compositions, both foreign and 
 domestic. The band of the Chapel-Royal, and the choir 
 of St Paul's, with the boys belonging to each, contribu- 
 ted their exertions in support of this new institution. In 
 1731, a difference arose among the members; in conse- 
 quence of which, the support of the boys, and of several 
 of the members, was willulrawn. From this time it be- 
 came a seminary for the instrivction of youth in the prin- 
 ciples of music. 
 
 The Royal Academy of Music was formed by the prin- 
 cipal nobility and gentry of the kingdom, for the perform- 
 ance of operas composed by Mr Handel, and conducted 
 by him at the theatre in the Haymarket. This institu- 
 tion attracted extraordinary attention, and continued to 
 flourish, for a considerable time, with great reputation. 
 The std)scription amounted to 50,000/.; and the king, 
 subscribing 1000/., allowed the society to assume the ti- 
 tle of Royal Academy. It consisted of a governor, de- 
 puty-governor, and twenty directors. A contest, how- 
 ever, betwixt Handel and Senesino, in which the direc- 
 tors took the part of the latter, occasioned the dissolu- 
 tion of the academy, after it had existed for more than 
 nine years. 
 
 The Royal Academy of Arts was established at Lon- 
 don, in 1768, for the encouragement of designing, paint- 
 ing, sculpture, Sec. The king is the patron ; and it is un- 
 der the direction of forty artists of the first rank in their 
 several professions. They paint from living models of 
 different characters. Nine are chosen out of the forty, 
 to attend in rotation, to set the figures, to examine the 
 performances that are produced, and to give the neces- 
 sary instructions. There are professors of painting, of 
 architecture,of anatomy, and of perspective, who annual- 
 ly give lectures in their different departments ; besides 
 a president, a council, and other officers. There is an 
 annual exhibition of paintings, sculptures, and designs, 
 at which some excellent pieces have been sometimes 
 produced. It is open to all who have any taste for the 
 studies which it piofesses to cultivate. 
 
 On the subject of Academies, see Descamp, Sur 
 Vutilite de I'etahlissemcnt des ecoles gratiiites., Paris, 1768. 
 Rozoi, L'F.ssais Philoso/ihirjue sur I'etablissement des 
 ecolfs gratuites de dessin. Ranidohr, Uber Mahlerei^ and 
 Bildhauerkimst in Rom. Leipsick. 1787; and Mazzu- 
 chelli's Scrittori D' Italia, passim. See also Institute, 
 Institution, Society. 
 
 ACADEMY is also used to signify a collegiate semi- 
 nary, either of a public or private nature, where youth 
 are instructed in the arts and sciences. There were 
 two public academies of this kind in the Roman empire ; 
 one at Rome, founded by Adrian, in which all the sciences 
 were taught; and the other at Berytes, in Phoenicia, 
 which was confined chiefly to the science of law. In 
 the thirteenth century, similar academies began to be 
 erected in various parts of Europe ; peculiar privileges 
 were granted to the students; they were invested with a 
 certain jurisdiction, and governed by their own laws and 
 statutes. See University. 
 
 Frederick I. king of Prussia, established an .Academy 
 in Berlin, in 1703, for the education of the young nobility 
 
 belonging to the court. This illustrious seminary, which 
 was called the Academy of Princes, has now lost much 
 of its original splendour. 
 
 The Romans had a kind of military academies in all 
 the cities of Italy, called Cam/ii Alartii, where youth 
 were admitted to be trained for war at the public ex- 
 pense. The (ireeks, besides academies of this kind, 
 had military professors, called y'uf^/r/, who taught all the 
 higher offices of war, £<c. Sec. 
 
 In this country, we have two royal academies of this 
 kind ; one at Portsmouth, in which navigation, drawing. 
 Sec. are taught. It was founded by George I. in 1722; 
 and is under the direction of the Board of Admiralty, 
 which gives salaries to various masters, with one of 
 whom the students are boarded at their own expense, 
 their education only being supplied by government. 
 The young men are rated as midshipmen when they en- 
 ter the academy ; and the lime that they spend at this 
 seminary, not exceeding two years, is considered the 
 same as if they had been in actual service.— The other 
 is a Military Academy at IVookuich, where young men 
 are taught fortification, gunnery, mining, and such 
 branches of the mathematics as arc necessary to qualify 
 them for the service of the artillery and engineers. It 
 was instituted by George II. by warrants, dated 30th 
 April, and 18th November 1741; and is under the direc- 
 tion of the Master-general and Board of Ordnance. The 
 gentlemen educated at this academy, amounting to 180, 
 are the sons of noblemen and military officers. They 
 are called Gentlemen Cadets; and are not admitted un- 
 der 14, nor above 16 years of age. The cadets are under 
 the direction of a lieutenant-governor. Each company 
 has a captain and two subalterns, as military directors ; 
 and an inspector, who superintends the studies of the ca- 
 dets. The academy has at present about ~0 masters, 
 viz. a professor of mathematics, and eight other mathe- 
 matical masters ; a professor of fortification, and two mas- 
 ters ; five drawing masters ; two French masters ; with 
 masters for chemistry, fencing, and dancing. This in- 
 stitution is of the greatest consequence to the state ; and 
 it is hardly credible that so important an object should 
 be accomplished at such a trifling expense. The pay 
 of each cadet is only 2s. 6d. per day ; and as this is suffi- 
 cient for his maintenance, his parents are at no expense 
 while he continues at the academy. Owing to the un- 
 healthy and confined situation of the old buildings, govern- 
 ment determined to erect new ones on the side of Shooter's 
 hill. The foundation stone was accordingly laid by the 
 duke of York on the 27th May 1803, and the academy 
 was removed to them on the 12th of August 1 805. The 
 Cadets' Barracks is a very handsome building, and has a 
 noble appearance from the number of field-pieces ar- 
 ranged before it. The academy is an elegant building, 
 in the Gothic style. For an account of the Military Col- 
 lege at Marlow, see College. 
 
 The Dissenters in England have %cycrs\ private acade- 
 mies, at which those who are intended for the ministry- 
 are educated. Prior to the restoration of Charles II. the 
 universities of Oxford and Cambridge were open to all 
 protestants, of whatever denomination. At that time, 
 however, certain oaths were introduced, which excluded 
 Chose who did not adhere to the national establishment. 
 Hence private academies were instituted by ntany of the 
 most eminent of the nonconformist divines in different 
 parts of the kingdom. These have produced many cele- 
 brated men : but, of late years, they have rather fallen off. 
 A prettv full account of them maybe found inlhe Theo- 
 K 2
 
 ACA 
 
 ACA 
 
 logical and Biblical Magazine for 1807, iii an Essay, in- 
 titled, Diasentini; ^ciideinies. (u) 
 
 ACADEMY, is a name given to those seminaries 
 where the Jewish Rabbins instructed the youth in the 
 language, traditions, and rites of their nation. Soon af- 
 ter Ihc dispersion ol the Jews, at the destiuction of Je- 
 rusalem, they are said to have erected academies at 
 Japhne, Lydda, Babylon, and Tiberias ; which last place 
 produced the compilers oi the Mishna and the Masorites. 
 Buxtorf says, that this academy subsisted in Jerom's 
 time. The most famous of the Babylonian schools, in 
 later times, were those that were established in the ci- 
 ties of Sora, Nahardea, and Pumbeditha. Saadias, a 
 celebrated grammarian, was rector of the academy at 
 Sora, in 927. But these academies were demolished 
 by the Mahomedan kings of Persia about the year 
 1040. (u) 
 
 ACADEMY is also a name given to a riding-school, 
 where young men are taught to ride the great horse, 
 fencing, and other exercises of a similar kind. The 
 duke of Newcastle, in a work upon this subject, says, 
 that the art of horsemanship passed from Italy to Eng- 
 land ; and that the first academy of this kind was establish- 
 ed at Naples, by Frederick Grison, who w rote upon the 
 subject. Henry VIII. brought two Italians, scholars 
 of Grison, into England, for the purpose of teaching 
 this art ; since which time it has continued to be taught 
 in all the considerable cities of the country. The 
 ground allotted for the purpose is usually called the Ma- 
 nege. («) 
 
 ACjENA, from ccxaivia, a rod ten feet long, which the 
 Greeks employed in the mensuration of land. 
 
 ACjENA, in Botany, a genus of plants of the class 
 Tetrandria, and order Monogynia; and comprehending 
 only one species, which is a Mexican plant. See Bota- 
 ny, (id) 
 
 ACALYPHA, in Botany, a genus of plants of the 
 order Monadelphia, and class Monaecia. In the last 
 edition of Linnaeus, by Gmelin, this plant is made a 
 genus of the Monadelphia Dodecandria. See Bota- 
 ny, (to) 
 
 ACAMAS, the son of Theseus and Phsdra, was one 
 of the Grecian leaders at the siege of Troy; and was 
 sent, along with Diomedes, on an embassy to Priam, in 
 order to procure the restoration of Helen. Laodice, the 
 daughter of Priam, fell desperately in love with Acamas, 
 and revealed her passion to Philobia, the wife of Perseus. 
 Perseus being solicitous to oblige Laodice, invited Aca- 
 mas to Dardanus, a city of which he was governor, and, 
 after a splendid entertainment, introduced Laodice to 
 him, in the character of one of the king's concubines. 
 The result of this gallantry was a son, called Mimitus, 
 who afterwards followed his father into Thrace, and 
 died by the bite of a serpent. Acamas was one of the 
 heroes who were concealed in the wooden horse. He 
 founded the city Acamantium, in Phrygia Major; and 
 gave name to the Acamantides, one of the tribes of 
 Athens, (o) 
 
 AC ANTH ABOLUS, the name of an instrument de- 
 scribed by Paulus Ji.gineta, for extracting thorns from 
 the flesh. It resembles the instrument called volscUa, 
 which is used in taking bones from the oesophagus. See 
 Cel.su.'!, viii. 30. (w) 
 
 ACANTHANOTUS, in Ichthyology, the name of a 
 genus of fishes, of the order Abdominales, in Linnaeus's 
 system. See leHTHvoLOGY. (-;■) 
 ' ACANTHURUS, in Ichthyology, the name of a ge- 
 
 nus of fishes belonging to the order Thoracici. See 
 Ichthyology, (iu) 
 
 ACANTHUS, or Bear's Breech, in Botany, a ge- \ 
 nus of plants of the order Angiospermia, and class Di- 
 dynamia. See Botany, (iv) 
 
 ACANITCONE, the name of a mineral species, of 
 the flint genus. It is the Pistacite of Werner, Arandi- 
 litc of D'Andrada, and Thallite of La Metherie. It was 
 formerly ranked as a variety of common actynolite ; but 
 the late observations of Werner and Haiiy show that it is 
 a distinct species, and nearly allied to Augite. See 
 
 OUYCTOGNOSY. (r) 
 
 AC ANZI, the name of the Turkish light-horse, which 
 form the vanguard of the grand signior's army when on 
 a march, (iv) 
 
 ACAPULCO, the second sea-port town in the Mexi- 
 can empire, situated on a bay of the Pacific Ocean, at 
 the distance of 240 miles south of Mexico. The town 
 itself is very inconsiderable, being composed of only two 
 or three himdred thatched and ill-built houses : but the 
 harbour is large and commodious, and is capable of con- 
 taining five hundred ships. The harbour is secured by 
 a small island, lying at its entrance, which is encircled 
 by lofty mountains, forming two inlets of sufficient depth 
 for the largest vessels; but, as all vessels must enter it 
 by a sea-breeze in the day time, and clear out by a land- 
 breeze in the night, they are often driven off" to sea, af- 
 ter many fruitless attempts to make the harbour. The 
 castle of St Diego, situated on a promontory, at a small 
 distance from the town, guards the harbour with 31 
 pieces of cannon, the greater part of which are 24 pound- 
 ers. The climate of Acapulco is damp and sultry ; the 
 country is exposed to frequent earthquakes : and as the 
 town is encircled with a volcanic mountain, the atmos- 
 phere is always thick and unhealthy. In the rainy sea- 
 son, the south-east winds are extremely destructive ; 
 while the salubrious north winds of the eastern coast 
 are totally unknown. Hence the Spanish families re- 
 tire to a distance from the coast, when business does 
 not require their attendance ; and the town is inhabited 
 only by 400 families of mulattoes, negroes, and Chinese, 
 or people from the Philippine Isles. The trade of Aca- 
 pulco is carried on chiefly with the Philippines and Peru. 
 When the Chinese ship, the name given by the Spanish 
 writers to the galleon from Manilla, in the Philippine 
 Isles, arrives at Acapulco, the merchants from Mexi- 
 co, Peru, and even Chili, hasten thither to receive and 
 exchange their commodities ; and erect tents in the vi- 
 cinity of the town, so as to fonn a large encampment. 
 The Manilla galleon arrives annually, loaded with all 
 the treasures of the East, consisting of gold-works, mus- 
 lins, printed linens, silks, perfumes, and precious stones; 
 which are exchanged to the Mexican traders, for cochi- 
 neal, European toys, and about half a million sterling. 
 Though there is a considerable number of cattle and 
 sheep, yet provisions are very scarce ; and the city de- 
 pends on a supply from the Indians. The governor of 
 Acapulco has the title of lieutenant-general of the Coast 
 of the South Sea; and commands three companies of 
 militia, the Chinese, the Mulatto, and the Negro. The 
 surrounding country produces cotton, maize, pot-herbs, 
 fruits, and some tobacco. About three miles to the east 
 of Acapulco, is an excellent harbour, called Port-Marquis, 
 to which the ships from Peru generally carry their con- 
 traband goods. Acapulco was taken and plundered by 
 sir Francis Drake in 1580. W. Long. 100° 41'. N.Lat 
 17° 5'. (o)
 
 ACC 
 
 ACC 
 
 77 
 
 ACARA, 
 
 ACARAAYA, 
 
 ACARAMUCU, 
 
 ACARAPIBA, 
 
 ACARAPINIMA, 
 
 ACARUPITAMBA, 
 
 ACARAPUCU, 
 
 ACARAUNA, 
 
 ACARNAN, 
 
 The trivial names of fish- 
 es, whicli arc chiclly i'ounci on 
 the coasts of South Ameri- 
 ca. For an account of wliich, 
 > see Marcgrave, Hay, Rondc- 
 /fr,anci IViUughbij. The Ac a- 
 RAMUcu is the Batistes Mo- 
 nociTos of Litinxus, and tl\e 
 AcAiiAUNA his C/i£lodon. See 
 Diet, cits Science JVaturetlcs, vol. i. and Ichthyology, (tv) 
 
 ACARNANIA, now called La Curnia, a country 
 situated on the Ionian sea, and separated from jEtolia by 
 the river Achelous, and from Epirus by the gulf of 
 Ambracia. For a particular account of this country, 
 see Macrobius* Saiurnat, lib. i. cap. 12. Polybii Hist. 
 lib. iv. cap. 30. Liu. Xih. xxxii. cap. 4. 6Vr«6ci, lib. x. p. 
 317, 518. Univ. Hist. vi. 276; vii. 239, 329, 380, 401 ; 
 ix: 84. (ot) 
 
 ACARUS, the Tick, or Mite, a genus of insects of 
 the order Aptera. See Entomology, and Pliilos. Mag. 
 vol. xxiii. p. 1. (to) 
 
 ACASATHULA, a sea-port town in Mexico, re- 
 markable for three volcanoes in its neighbourhood. W. 
 Long. 93". N. Lat. 12° 50'. (w) 
 
 ACATALECTIC, in prosody, a name given to verses 
 which are not defective in feet or syllables, (tu) 
 
 ACATASTATiE,, a name given to fevers anomalous 
 in their appearance, and irregular in their parox- 
 ysms, (to) 
 
 ACATHISTUS, a hymn sung in the Greek church in 
 honour of the Virgin, for having thrice delivered Constan- 
 tinople from the barbarous hordes which invaded it. (to) 
 
 ACBAR, the name of a huge idol, from the worship 
 of which Mahomet could with difficulty restrain the 
 Arabians, (to) 
 
 ACCAWAW Indians, the name of one of the savage 
 tribes, who are Aborigines of Guiana. Though they 
 live on friendly terms with the Dutch settlers, yet they 
 treacherously administer slow poison under their nails ; 
 and ai-e so distrustful, that they pallisade the ground 
 which surrounds their hamlets with poisoned spikes. 
 See Stedman's .N'arrative of an Exfiediti'in to Surinam, 
 vol. i. p. 420. (o) 
 
 ACCELERANDO, the term for accelerating the 
 lime in the middle of a piece of music, (to) 
 
 ACCELERATION, in mechanics, is an augmenta- 
 tion of velocity received by a moving body, whether 
 falling freely by its own weight, descending an inclined 
 plane, or oscillating round a fixed centre. The laws 
 of the acceleration of falling bodies were discovered by 
 the celebrated Galileo. See Dynamics, and Mecha- 
 nics, {tu) 
 
 ACCELERATION of the Moon, or her secular 
 equation, is an increase of velocity in the mean motion 
 of the moon, arising, according to La Place, from a di- 
 minution in the eccentricity of the earth's orbit, produced 
 by the action of the sun. When this eccentricity, there- 
 fore, becomes a minimum, the acceleration will cease, 
 and when the eccentricity increases, the acceleration 
 will be converted into a retardation. 
 
 Dr Hallcy was the first who detected this diminution 
 in the periodical revolution of the moon, by a comparison 
 of the ancient and modern eclipses. But, as the longi- 
 tudes of the places where these eclipses were observed, 
 were not accurately ascertained, he did not attempt to 
 determine the quantity of acceleration. This, however, 
 was afterwards done by Mr Dunthornc, who found that 
 
 tlie acceleration amounted to 10" in 100 years. By a 
 comparison of three eclipses, observed near Cairo in 
 977, 978, 979, by Ibn-Junis, La Lande has found the ac- 
 celeration to be 9". 886 in IDO years. In Mayer's first 
 tables it is 7", and in his last 9". According to La Place, 
 it amounts to 11". 135. See J^hil. Trans. No. 204, 218; 
 and vol. xlvi. p. 162 ; 1749, 1750, 1777. Newton's Pri7i- 
 ci/iia, 2d edit. p. 481. Conunent. Meg. Soc. Got ting. 1752, 
 p. 388. Mem. de I'Acad. Par. 1757, 1763, 1786. Mem. 
 dc I'.'lcad. Bertin. 1773, 1782. Connoissanccs dia Temps, 
 1779, 1782, 1790, p. 294. Long's Astronomy, voL ii. p. 
 456. Astronomic par La La^ide, torn. ii. Art. 1483. 
 Vincc's Astronomy, vol. i. p. 206. See Astkonomy. Qiv) 
 
 ACCELERATION of the Staus, is die difference 
 between the time in which the sun performs his diurnal 
 revolution, and the time in which the fixed stars seem 
 to perform their diurnal revolution, which makes the 
 stars rise, come to the meridian, and set, 3' 55". 9 sooner 
 every clay. During every 24 hours, the sun moves 59' 
 8". 5 eastward, (in a direction contrary to that of his 
 diurnal motion,) a space which he describes in his daily 
 revolution in 3' 55".9. If the sun and a fixed star, there- 
 fore leave the same point in the heavens at the same 
 time, the fixed star will return to that point in the space 
 of 23h. 56' 4".l equal to 24h. minus 5' 55".9, while the 
 sun will require 24 hours to arrive at the same point. 
 During the next revolution, the star will gain 3' 55".9, 
 and will reach the point from which it first set out 7' 5 1".8 
 before the sun. See Astronomy, (to) * 
 
 ACCELERATORES Urinjj, the name of two mus- 
 cles for accelerating the ejection of the urine and semen. 
 See Anatomy, (to) 
 
 ACCENT, in Grammar, a certain mark, or character, 
 placed over a syllable, in order to direct the manage- 
 ment of the voice in pronunciation. The accents which 
 we commonly employ, are the same that were in use 
 among the Greeks and Romans, and are three in num- 
 ber, viz. the acute accent marked (') which denotes the 
 elevation of the voice; the grave accc7it (^), which 
 marks the depression of the voice ; and the circuinjlcj.- 
 acccrit (") or ("), which is composed of the grave and 
 the acute, and indicates that the voice is to be first eleva- 
 ted and then depressed. 
 
 Different nations vary from each other greatly in the 
 accents which they employ. The Hebrew abounds 
 more in them than any other language, as it is reckoned 
 to employ twenty-five tonic and four euphonic accents ; 
 although authors are not perfectly agreed as to the num- 
 ber of either class. The tonic accents are intended to 
 give the proper tone to syllables, and are divided into 
 grammatical and musical. The euphonic accents are 
 called rhetorical, and are intended to make the pronun- 
 ciation more sweet and agreeable. Of the Hebrew ac- 
 cents, some are placed above and some below the syl- 
 lables ; and they serve not only to regulate the variations 
 of the voice, but also to mark the periods and members 
 of a discourse, like our characters for punctuation. 
 They are classed according to their dignity, or relative 
 importance ; and have obtained the lofty titles of em- 
 perors, kings, dukes, &c. The emperor rules over a 
 whole phrase, and tenninates the sense completely, 
 like our full point ; the king corresponds to our colon, 
 or semicolon ; and the duke to a comma ; but they in- 
 terchange dignities as the phrases are longer or shorter ; 
 and thus the king may become a duke, and the duke a 
 king. The office of these accents is very different in 
 poetry from %\-hat it is in prose.
 
 '8 
 
 ACCENT. 
 
 Much controversy has ajisen concerning both the 
 origin and the use of the Hebrew accents. Some main- 
 tain, that they serve to distinguish the sense ; while 
 others allow tliem no other oftice than to regulate the 
 musical cadence, or melody ; alleging, that the Jews 
 sing, rather than read, the scriptures in their synagogues. 
 The learned Hennin afllrnis, that the Hebrew accents 
 are of Arabic invention ; and that they were adopted by 
 the Jewish doctors of the school of Tiberias, called the 
 Masorites, especially by the celebrated Rabbi Ben 
 Ascher. It is not, however, so easy to conceive, that 
 this contrivance could have been of Arabic origin, when 
 the Arabic language has no such thing as accents either 
 in prose or verse. The most prevailing opinion among 
 the learned is, that the invention of the Hebrew accents, 
 as well as the vowel points, is entirely due to the Maso- 
 rites, and took place about the middle of the sixth cen- 
 tury. The accents have been a source of great difficulty 
 in learning the Hebrew language ; and of equal confu- 
 sion and error in its interpretation. Few of them are 
 now of any known use, except that of distinguishing 
 periods ; and biblical interpreters are at great variance 
 concerning their position, necessity, and utility. See 
 Buxtorf's Thesaurus. 
 
 The Chinese and Siamese are noted for the musical 
 accent with which they speak ; and, in their language, 
 the accents are employed to prevent ambiguity, and to 
 confer a peculiar meaning upon words. They consist 
 of a kind of modulation, or a prolongation, and, at the 
 same time, a variation of the sound of a vowel, by raising 
 or depressing the voice a certain pitch. The accents 
 of the Chinese arc reckoned four or five in number, 
 and the same sound may acquire as many different 
 meanings, according to the accents affixed to it. Thus, 
 the syllable ya, according as it is accented, may signify 
 God, a ivall, excellent, stu/iidily, and a g-oose ; so that if 
 they deviate ever so little from the accent, they say quite 
 a contrary thing to what was intended. The Siamese 
 alphabet begins with six characters, which are all equi- 
 valent to our /t, but are differently accented ; for, in this 
 language, the consonants, as well as the vowels, are 
 diversified by accents. La Loubere, tom. ii. 1.8. 
 
 With respect to the Greek and Roman accents, there 
 has been no less dispute about their antiquity and their 
 use, than concerning those of the Hebrews. It is the 
 opinion of Vossius, and other learned grammarians, that 
 they are a comparatively modern invention ; and that 
 the most ancient Greek accents were a few musical notes 
 for poetry, invented by Aristophanes the grammarian, 
 about tlie time of Ptolemy Philopater, and which were 
 very different from those afterwards introduced. (Ko.s. 
 de Accent. Grxc.) Montfaucon, while he allows Aris- 
 tophanes to have been the inventor of prosody, and of 
 the marks by which the accents are now distinguished, 
 asserts, that the Greek language was by no means des- 
 titute of accents before his time. {Paleogra/i/i. Grxc. p. 
 33.) Wetsleen, Gcsner, lord Monboddo, and others, 
 have contended for the high anti([uity of the Greek ac- 
 cents, and endeavoured to point out their specific use. 
 It is not, however, contended, that the ancient Greeks 
 used accents in their common writings, or books, but 
 only in their schools. No Greek inscriptions have either 
 accent, spirit, apostrophus, or iuTo. subscribed, till 170 
 years after Christ. Michaelis apprehended, that they 
 do not occur in any copies of the New Testament still 
 extant, which are antecedent to the eighth century, and 
 but seldom in those which are more modern ; that thev 
 
 were not written by the apostles, but were probably first 
 added by Eulhalius in the year 458. His translator, 
 however, Mr Marsh, has discovered botli accents and 
 marks of aspiration, in several more ancient MSS. whicli 
 he mentions ; particularly tlie V^atican, and the Claro- 
 montane. The Alexandrian, Cambridge, and four other 
 MSS. are without accents. Translal. of Michael. In- 
 trod. vol. ii. p. 894. 
 
 The Greeks called their accents a-fo5-«^(«i, or t»v9<, 
 and the Romans called them accenttis ; terms which 
 seem to show that their effect was musical, or consisted 
 in a variation of the tone of the voice, in respect of 
 acuteness and gravity. This also appears from the 
 three species or varieties of the ancient accents; the 
 acute, whose office, it is said, was to raise the voice to t. 
 greater height in the musical scale; the grave, whose 
 office it was to depress it; and the circumflex, which 
 first carried the voice from grave to acute, and then 
 from acute to grave. The management of these accents 
 was reduced to rule by the ancients, and formed a prin- 
 cipal object of attention with all public speakers. There 
 were academies instituted for the management of the 
 voice, at which those destined for the bar or the stage 
 attended, and received instructions from persons called 
 (poitu.trx.iii, or regulators of the voice. Roscius, the cele- 
 brated actor, had an academy of this kind ; and happened 
 to have a law-suit with one of his pupils, in which Cicero 
 pleaded his cause. Both Cicero and Quinctilian relate 
 the story of Caius Gracchus, when he was declaiming in 
 public, having a musician, or tibicen, stationed behind 
 him, in order to regulate the tones of his voice by a pipe 
 or flute. His employment, says Cicero, was not only to 
 appease the passion of his master, but, upon certain oc- 
 casions, to stir it up : Qui instaret celeriter cum aonum, 
 quo ilium aut rcmiasum excilaret, aut a contentione revo- 
 caret. 
 
 Many passages might be cited from Cicero, Quincti- 
 lian, Boethius, and Plutarch, in order to prove, that not 
 only musicians and actors, but even orators, had a nota- 
 tion, by which the inflexions of voice peculiar to their 
 several professions of singing, declaiming, and ha- 
 ranguing, in public, were ascertained. This, in the case 
 of haranguing, we may suppose to have been vei-y much 
 of the nature of the ancient accents. M. Duclos {Encyc. 
 art. Declam. des .-Inciens) has denied the possibility of 
 this, on the principle, that the intervals are too minute to 
 be accurately marked or ascertained. The possibility 
 of it, however, has been completely proved by the inge- 
 nious Mr Steele, who was able to imitate, upon a violon- 
 cello, the exact tone of the voice in declamation, as it 
 naturally passes from grave to acute, and from acute to 
 grave ; and to express it in writing'. With a finger on 
 the fourth string of a violoncello, and a corresponding 
 motion of the bow, he imitated the precise tones of 
 speech, by rapidly sliding the finger up and down the 
 string, so as to produce a continued transition of the 
 sound from acute to grave, or tbe contrary. (Prosodia 
 Ratiorialis.) This kind of musical tone is very different 
 from any succession of notes in the diatonic, chromatic, 
 or even enharmonic scales ; for these all consist of inter- 
 vals, or sudden starts from tone to tone. But the music 
 of declamation is a continual and insensible gliding up- 
 wards or downwards, without any sudden transition of 
 tone. It is, however, perfectly suiceptible of notation, 
 and on principles altogether analogous to our common 
 method of writing music, as was shown by Mr Steele, 
 who, to denote this kind of melody, inscribed in the stave
 
 ACCENT. 
 
 79 
 
 (B» five lines, instead of crotchets and quavers, a set of 
 right lines obli<|Ucly ascending or descending Ihrougli 
 a space, corresponding to the musical interval, through 
 which ihe voice naturally glides in speaking. 
 
 Tliese slidmg notes, or marks of declamation, when 
 taken out of the stave, are tlie exact representatives of 
 the ancient accents; and, if their relative posiLion, as to 
 acuteness and gravity, be retained, tliey may, even in 
 this situation, be sounded truly by the voice with a little 
 practice. Mr Steele Ivad made considerable proficiency 
 himself in analysing and recording the melody ot speech, 
 and could repeat a sentence, which he had committed to 
 paper with the accented tones, nearly as correctly as if 
 it had been set to music. His success, in this way, 
 made him so sanguine, as to cherish the expectation of 
 " transmitting to posterity the types of modern elocution, 
 as accurately as we have received the musical compo- 
 sitions of Corelli." 
 
 The investigations of this ingenious author have, we 
 think, clearly established, that there is a musical accen- 
 tuation in all pleasing declamation ; and that this accen- 
 tuation may be very accurately expressed by notes or 
 characters ; yet, after all, we cannot help thinking, that 
 the ofRce of the Greek accents, which have descended 
 to us, was considerably different from this. The accents 
 of declamation must vary considerably on the difi'erent 
 words and syllables, according to the nature of the sub- 
 ject, otherwise the expression cannot be just or pleasing. 
 It is pretty clearly shown by Mr Steele, that, when we 
 utter the interjection oh.' under the strong impression 
 of wonder or surprise, we use a circumflex musical slide, 
 first ascending, and then descending, through no less an 
 interval tlian a whole octave, thus, oh .' But the same in- 
 terjection is employed as indicative of many other feel- 
 ings of the mind, such as affection, sorrow, compassion, 
 &c. ; and on each occasion the musical accent will be 
 different, or the expression cannot be just. When it 
 denotes sorrow, the tone of the voice continues all the 
 while nearly at the same pitch ; for it is the natural cha- 
 racter of grief to be monotonous. Unquestionably, the 
 declamation of the Greeks had analogous properties, or 
 it must have had a defect unknown to any living lan- 
 guage ; it must have been completely destitute of senti- 
 mental expression, as inanimate as writing, and as mo- 
 notonous as the cant of a parish clerk. Yet tlic Greek 
 accentual marks are invariably attached to particular 
 syllables, whether the subject be serious or gay, rheto- 
 rical or didactic ; and whether the sentence be in the 
 form of a simple proposition, a command, an insinua- 
 tion, or an interrogation. The inference appears to us 
 unavoidable, that the Greek accents are not rhetorical 
 marks, expressive of sentiment ; but grammatical signs, 
 indicative of emphasis, quantity, or signification ; and 
 this conclusion is greatly strengthened by the compara- 
 tively modern date which is, with probability, assigned 
 to these characters. 
 
 The rules which grammarians have given, respecting 
 the Greek accents, are very perplexed, and liable to 
 many exceptions. The whole difficulty of the matter, 
 say Messrs de Port Royal, consists in two points ; first, 
 in knowing the quantity of the ultimate and penultimate ; 
 and, secondly, in knowing on what syllable the words 
 should have their elevation by nature ; because, even 
 supposing the same quantity, the elevation may not be 
 the same. Thus, in avS^ws-o;, the antepenultimate is 
 acute ; but in avS^a^ris, the penultimate. The utmost 
 lUtitude of the acvite accent, among the Greeks, was, 
 
 that it might occupy some one of three syllables, the 
 ultimate, pcnultiniate, or antepenultimate. Among the 
 Romans, the kititude was not so great; for it necessa- 
 rily occupied either tlie penultimate or antepenultimate. 
 Among them, too, the rules for placing it were very 
 precise; viz. that, in dissyllables, it always occupied the 
 penult, or first syllable ; in polysyllables it occupied the 
 penult, if it were long, and, if it were short, the ante- 
 penult. (See Diomedes de Accent, lib. ii. antl Quinct. 
 Innt. lib. i. c. 5.) In Latin words, it is well known, that 
 the accentual marks served to distinguish the meaning 
 conveyed; and, though disused in the English, they 
 have been retained in the French for a similar purpose, 
 or for marking the promniciation. In some Greek words, 
 they undoubtedly have alike effect; thus, .^e«« denotes 
 a goddess, and Sr'ia a show, with no other difference than 
 that between the acute and the grave accent. Thus, 
 also, n>f]^iic]ovoi, accented on the second syllable, deno- 
 ted, slain by a mother; but /j-ifl^oxjivoi, accented on the 
 third, meant a matricide. In most cases, however, the 
 effect of the Greek accents must have been very differ- 
 ent from this. 
 
 Various arguments have been adduced to prove, that 
 the purpose of the Greek accents was to indicate the 
 stress, or emfihusis of the voice, which is tlic effect that 
 we now denote by the term accent; since, by an accent- 
 ed syllable, we mean, in fact, nothing more than an em- 
 phatic syllable. All polysyllables, it has been observed, 
 required one acute or circumflex Greek accent ; ours 
 require one emphasis. The accent was never removed 
 farther back, by the ancient Greeks, than the antepenult 
 syllable ; neither is our emphasis, except in a few cases, 
 where it resembles the practice of the modern Greeks. 
 The ancient accent was invariably fixed upon a particu- 
 lar syllable of a word ; so is our emphasis. It was 
 changed, however, to another syllable, in derivative 
 words, differing in length ; or in similar words, differing 
 in sense ; so is our emphasis precisely. The Greek 
 circumflex was never placed On any short syllable, nor 
 farther back than the penult; oxir long syllables, i. e. our 
 long vowels and diphthongs, are generally emphatic, 
 and are pronounced with a circumflex, or rising and 
 falling inflexion of the voice. 
 
 But, says Mr Sheridan, our accent, or emphatic pro- 
 nunciation of syllables, has the effect of lengthening the 
 vowel, or syllable, which is accented, while the Greek 
 accent often falls upon a short vowel ; and therefore, 
 upon this supposition, would be destructive of the rythm, 
 or proportional length of the syllables of words. It is, 
 indeed, true, that the laying the stress of the voice upon 
 the voiuel of a syllable, renders that syllable long, as in 
 glffnj, father, ho'ly. Sec. ; but it is equally true, as is ad- 
 mitted by the same author, that, if the stress be laid, 
 not upon the vowel, but upon the consonant which fol- 
 lows it, the syllable may continue short, as in habit, bat'- 
 tle, bor'row, &.C. It may, indeed, be supposed, that, in 
 such cases, the accented syllable is lengthened by the 
 virtual repetition of the accented consonant, b, t, or r ; 
 but, in fact, we seldom redouble a letter in pronuncia- 
 tion, even when it is written double. It is only in such 
 compounds as oi'er-run, or where a mute e intervenes, 
 as in supine7iess, that this takes place. Thus, an ac- 
 cented syllable may be long or short, according as the 
 vowel, or the consonant which follows it, is rendered 
 emphatic ; and we may observe by the waj^, that it is the 
 genius of the Scotch pronunciation to dwell upon the 
 vowels, and of the English to accent the consonants.
 
 80 
 
 ACCENT. 
 
 Thus, instead of ihe English hii'bit, and bat' tie, a Scotch- 
 man naturally says ho/bit, and balftle. The English, 
 therefore, abounds in the acute accent, the Scotch in 
 the grave, and, it may be added, the Irish in the cir- 
 cumflex. 
 
 From these observations, we think it clearly follows, 
 that a syllable may be rendered emphatic, and yet con- 
 tinue short ; and, on this account, the metrical propor- 
 tion of syllables may be retained, although the accent 
 (supposing it the same with emphasis,) be placed on 
 those which are short, and not on those which are long. 
 Thus, the proportional length of all the syllables in 
 ft))7j«K7oKi« may continue the same, whether wc place the 
 emphasis, or accent, on its second or its third syllable, 
 if, in this last case, wc lay the stress on the », and not 
 on the 0.* By this variation of the accent, we are able 
 to mark the change of meaning of the word ; and thus 
 we discern one use of the accents, corresponding to the 
 purpose for which they were said to have been invented 
 by Aristophanes of Byzantium; namely, to facilitate the 
 progress of foreigners hi the proper pronunciation of 
 Greek words. 
 
 It must be acknowledged, however, that there is a 
 passage in the treatise of Dionysius of Halicarnassus 
 concerning com/ionition, which is rather inconsistent 
 with this doctrine concerning the use of the Greek ac- 
 cents, and is more favourable to the system of Mr Steele. 
 " The melody of common speech," says this critic, " is 
 measured nearly by one interval, that, namely, which is 
 commonly called the dkijienta. It docs not rise more 
 
 • This appears to be an unnecessary distinction; and 
 indeed, it may be demonstrated not to be founded in 
 fact, which may easily be done by comparing the pro- 
 nvmciation of the long accented Italian syllables with 
 that of the short ones of the English language that are 
 likewise accented. Take, for instance, the Italian word 
 bello, in which the e is pronoimced very long and strong- 
 ly accented, while at the same time the two Us are suc- 
 cessively articulated in the clearest and most distinct 
 manner. Take, on the other side, the English word folly., 
 in which the o, though accented, is pronounced extreme- 
 ly short. If the accent were really on the / that follows it, 
 that consonant would, as in the Italian language, be arti- 
 culated distinctly and separately from the other I; instead 
 of which the two Us are blended and articulated toge- 
 ther as if there were only one, and produce but a weak 
 liquid sound ; which is pronounced by an English organ 
 with not half the strength that is given by an Italian 
 speaker to one of the two Us that are contained in tlie 
 word which we have adduced by way of example. We 
 must acknowledge with great diffidence, that we do not 
 perceive any necessity for the distinction which is at- 
 tempted to be here established ; nor can we see any rea- 
 son why a short vowel may not as well be accented, or 
 in other words, strongly and emphatically uttered as a 
 long one. We therefore venture to think that in short 
 syllables, as well as in those that arc long, the emphatic 
 accent is really placed on the vowel itself, and not on 
 the consonant by which it is followed. Grammarians 
 have too long blended together the ideas of accent and 
 quantity, and seem to be now seeking pretexts or apolo- 
 gies for keeping them separate. To us it appears that 
 no two things can be more distinct, and that there is no 
 need of calling in the aid of the consonant to prove the 
 accentuation of a short syllable. Duponceau. 
 
 than three toiics and a half towards the acute, nor does 
 it descend farther towards the grave. But every word 
 has not the same tone ; for some are sounded with an 
 acute tone, some with a grave, and some with both. Of 
 these last, some have the acute and grave blended toge- 
 ther in the same syllable, which is then called circum- 
 Jlectcd; others have them on different syllables, each of 
 which preserves its own proper accent, whether grave 
 or acute, distinct and separate from that of any other. 
 In dissyllables of this kind, the one is grave and the 
 other acute ; and betwixt these there can be no medium ; 
 but in words of many syllables, of whatever kind, there 
 is but one which is accented acute, while all the rest 
 are grave. Such is the melody of speech." Sect. 11//;. 
 To obviate this difficulty, however, it may be reasonably 
 supposed, that the observations of Dionysius apply to 
 the accents of oratory or declamation, which were re- 
 dTiced to rule by the ancients, and even represented by 
 written characters; but that they have no reference to 
 the grammatical accents which we at present possess. 
 
 Considerable light has been thrown upon this contro- 
 verted question, by an examination of the pronunciation 
 of the modern Greeks, who may retain many particulars 
 of the manner of speaking of their classical ancestors. 
 Even here, however, the testimony of authors is contra- 
 dictory, and respectable authorities may be produced on 
 both sides of the controversy. Mr Marsh, the learned 
 translator of Michaelis, informs us, that Eugenius, a 
 Greek priest, and archbishop of Cherson, in reading 
 Greek, distinctly marked, by his pronunciation, both ac- 
 cent and quantity ; lengthening the sound, without raising 
 the tone of his voice, when he pronounced a long sylla- 
 ble, which had not an acute accent, and raising the tone 
 of his voice without lengthening the sound, when he pro- 
 nounced a short syllable which had an acute accent ; in 
 the same manner as in music, the acutest note in a bar 
 may frequently be the shortest. 
 
 A very different account of the practice of the modem 
 Greeks is given by Mr Browne, {Irish Trans, vol. 7.) 
 who had an opportunity of conversing with the crew of 
 a Greek ship from Patrass, a to^vn situated near the an- 
 cient Corinth, which had been driven, by stress of wea- 
 ther, into the port of Dingle in Ireland, and continued 
 there for a considerable time. " Of the two first persons 
 whom I met," says Mr Browne, "one, tlie steward of 
 the ship, an inhabitant of the island of Cephalonia, had a 
 school education : he read Euripides, and translated 
 some easier passages without much difficulty. The 
 companion, however, of the steward, could speak only 
 modern Greek, in which I could discover, that he was 
 giving a description of the distress of the ship ; and, 
 though not able to understand the context, I could plainly 
 distmguish many words, such as J'fuJf a, |vAoy ; and, among 
 the rest, the sound of Ai^^Sve^ pronounced short. This 
 awoke my curiosity, which was still more heightened 
 when I observed that he said AiB-qa-rov long, with the 
 same attention to the alteration of the accent with the 
 variety of the case, which a boy would be taught to pay 
 at a school in England. Watching, therefore, more 
 closely, and asking the other to read some Greek, I 
 found that they both unifoi-mly pronounced, according to 
 accent, without any attention to long or short syllables 
 where accent came in the way ; and, on their departure, 
 one of them having bade me good day, by saying 
 KaXr.fci^cc, to which I answered, KaXyi^Ji^x, he, with strong 
 marks of reprobation, set me right, and repeated 
 K«A);fcFf«; and, with like censure, did the captain, upon
 
 ACC 
 
 ACC 
 
 81 
 
 another occasion, observe, upon my saying SacrSlea, in- 
 stead of Socrates." 
 
 Mr Bro\vne proceeds to inform us, that the most in- 
 telligent of these Greeks repeatedly assured him, that 
 Greek verse, as well as prose, was read by accent, and 
 not by quantity ; and exemplified it by reading in that 
 manner several lines of Homer, with whose name they 
 seemed perfectly well acquainted. When, however, a 
 syllable with the acute accent followed one with the cir- 
 cumflex, as in the case of KXSSi, it was shortened, on ac- 
 count of the great length of the preceding syllable. " I 
 must here add," saysMr Browne, " that these mencon- 
 firnned an observation, which I have heard made, that we 
 are much mistaken in our idea of the supposed lofty 
 sound of 9ro>iw^Ao/s-/3o(o .9-«A«ff-<r« ; that the borderers on 
 the coast of the Archipelago take their ideas from the 
 gentle laving of the shore by a summer wave, and not 
 from the roaring of a winter ocean, and they accordingly 
 pronounced it Polyfihlisveo Ihatasses." 
 
 These particulars, so distinctly stated by Mr Browne, 
 are entirely confonnable to the purpose of the Greek 
 accents, which we have above thought, on the whole, 
 the most probable; viz. to mark the emphasis, or stress 
 of the voice, in reading. But, as we have already 
 shown, the emphasis need not affect the quantity of the 
 syllables ; as it does not, of necessity, lengthen the sylla- 
 ble on which it is placed. Mr Browne does not seem to 
 have been aware of this ; for he constantly speaks of 
 making a syllable long by placing the emphasis upon it ; 
 and, on this account, he is greatly puzzled to explain 
 in what manner the rythm of the ancient versification 
 could be made sensible to the ear, by reading it accord- 
 ing to the accent, and not the quantity. This is cer- 
 tainly perfectly possible ; but it would be very difficult 
 for a modern to do it without a great deal of practice. 
 
 ("0 
 
 ACCENT, m Music. The notes, or parts of a bar, 
 on which the emphasis naturally falls, are said to be ac- 
 cented. In common time, whether vocal or instrumen- 
 tal, tlie first and third notes of a bar are accented, and in 
 triple time the first and last note, (ly) 
 
 ACCEPTANCE, a word employed in law, and in 
 commerce ; as the acceptance of a deed, and the accept- 
 ance of a bill. 1. Acceptance of a Deed. When any 
 deed is granted by one person in favour of another, the 
 person in whose favour it is granted must accept the deed 
 before it becomes binding upon him. The circumstance 
 of the deed being in his possession, is not a sufficient 
 proof of his having accepted it. In the eye of the law, 
 the receiver of the deed may have accepted of it either 
 by a verbal acceptance, by acting upon the deed, by de- 
 riving benefit from it, by taking infeftment on it, or even 
 by putting it on record. 2. Acceptance of a Bill, is 
 the act of signing or subscribing a bill, or agreeing ver- 
 bally to pay the sum contained in it at the appointed 
 time, and according to the conditions specified. In 
 England, a verbal acceptance has been held to be as ob- 
 ligatory as a written one ; but in Scotland it may be 
 doubted, whether the bill can be accepted, in any other 
 way than by the subscription of the person on whom it 
 is drawn, {j) * 
 
 • In France, Spain, and the other countries of the 
 continent of Europe, where parol evidence in matters of 
 contract is not admitted to the sime extent that it is in 
 England, a verbal acceptance of a bill of exchange or 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 ACCEPTILATION is the extinction of a debt, with 
 a declaration from the creditor, that he foregoes all fur- 
 ther claim upon the debtor, though no payment has been 
 made, (y) 
 
 ACCESSION, in Law, is a method of acquiring pro- 
 perty in consequence of its connexion with other pro- 
 perty, and is either natural or artificial. By natural 
 accession, the proprietor of cattle has a right to their 
 young, and the proprietor of the soil to its produce. In 
 the same way, the proprietor of ground lying on the side 
 of a river, has a right to the addition which that ground 
 may gradually receive. By artificial accession, trees or 
 houses built upon the ground of another, belong to the 
 proprietor of the ground, and not to the person who 
 planted, or built them, (j) 
 
 ACCESSORY TO a Crime. A person is said to be 
 accessory to a crime, if he either coxnmands or orders 
 another to commit the crime, or furnishes the means 
 for its commission. Those who receive, or comfort, any 
 person guilty of murder, or felony, are also considered 
 by the law as accessory to their perpetration. In the 
 lowest offences, such as riots, mobs. Sec. and in the 
 highest, such as high treason, there are no accesso- 
 ries, all those concerned being regarded as principals. 
 
 U) . , . . 
 
 ACCESSORY Nerves, a pan* of nerves which arise 
 by several filaments from the mechilla spinalis of the 
 neck, and terminate in the trapezius, (in) 
 
 ACCIACATURA, from acciacare, to break down, a 
 term in music, which indicates the manner in which cer- 
 tain passages should be performed on the harpsichord ; 
 and signifies that sweeping of the chords, and dropping 
 of sprinkled notes, which are particularly proper in ac- 
 companiments, and which form one of the chief beauties 
 of that instrument. Basby's Afus. Vict, (w) 
 
 ACCIAJUOLI DoNATo, a learned Florentine, born 
 in 1428, and descended from Justinian, emperor of Con- 
 stantinople, was reckoned one of the ablest orators, 
 philosophers, and mathematicians, of the age in which 
 he lived. Acciajuoli was present at the celebrated 
 co?iversazione which was held in the wood of Camildoli, 
 at the suggestion, and in the presence of Lorenzo de 
 Medici, by the most distinguished literati of Florence ; 
 and he was one of the five deputies who made new laws 
 for the university of Pisa, when it was re-cstabiished by 
 the Florentine nobility. He was treasurer of Florence, 
 and thrice president of the Guelphs ; and, in conse- 
 quence of some political dissensions, the malignity of 
 his enemies compelled him for a while to withdraw from 
 his native city. In 1461, he was sent to congratulate 
 Lewis XI. on his coronation, and was afterwards em- 
 ployed on several hnportant embassies. — When he v/as 
 going as ambassador to France, to request succour 
 against Pope Sextus IV., who had harassed the Floren- 
 tines, he died at Milan, on the 20th of August 1478, in 
 the 50th year of his age. His body was conveyed to the 
 church of the Carthusians at Florence, where it was in- 
 terred at the public expense, in the tomb of his ances- 
 tors. Acciajuoli was much employed in public situa- 
 tions ; and as the fortune which he left to his children 
 was very small, his daughters, like those of Aristides, 
 were portioned at the public expense. His works were, 
 Expositio super libros Ethicoi-tun Aristotelis, 1478. Cow- 
 
 promissory note is not valid. In the United States the 
 rule of the English law prevails. Duponcbau. 
 
 L
 
 82 
 
 ACC 
 
 ACC 
 
 ment. in jiristot. Lib. VIII. Poliitcorum, 1566. Caroli 
 Magni Vita. Istoria Fiorenthia di Leonardo j'lrcliit'j tra- 
 dotta, 1473; a Translation of some oi Plutarch's Lives., 
 Sec. Sec. 
 
 The lives of no fewer than 2 1 Italian writers of the 
 name of Acciajuoli may be found in Mazzuchelli's 
 Scrittori D'ltalia, vol. i. p. 37 — 53. (o) 
 
 ACCIDENT, a term used in Logic, Grammar, and 
 Heraldry. Among logicians, it signifies any thing which 
 docs not essentially belong to a substance, or without 
 which the substance may be conceived to exist ; as 
 redness in the rose, and sweetness in the orange. Hence 
 the word accident is employed by grammarians to denote 
 the properties which are not essential to words; thus 
 number, gender, and cases, are the accidents of sub- 
 stantive nouns, and comparison is the accident of adjec- 
 tives. In heraldry, the word accident signifies any thing 
 in a coat of arms, which may be omitted or retained, 
 without affecting the essence of the armour. Thus 
 abatements, differences, and tincture, are the accidents 
 of a coat of arms, (o) 
 
 ACCIDENTAL Colours, a name given by Buffon 
 to those colours which arise from the continued action 
 of light upon the retina, in order to distinguish them 
 from those which are produced by the decomposition of 
 white light. 
 
 A few of the phenomena of accidental colours were 
 first observed by Dc la Hire, and our countryman Dr 
 Jurin ; but we are indebted to Buffon, professor Scherffer, 
 and jEpinus, for a complete series of experiments, by 
 which the nature and cause of these colours have been 
 almost completely unfolded. The limits of our work 
 will notpeimit us to give a detailed view of the various 
 experiments by which this subject has been illustrated ; 
 but by directing the attention of the reader to the most 
 important facts, and to the theory by which they may 
 be explained, he will be enabled to account for the 
 various optical illusions which are referable to the same 
 cause. 
 
 When we look steadily, and for a considerable time, 
 at a small square of red paper placed upon a white 
 ground, we perceive a light green border surrounding 
 the red sciuare : by removing the eye from the red square, 
 and directing it to another part of the white ground, we 
 perceive very distinctly a square of light-green approach- 
 ing a little to blue, and of the same size as the real red 
 square. This imaginary green is the accidental colour 
 of red, and continues to be visible till the impression 
 made upon the retina by the red square has been effaced 
 by other images. By making the same experiment with 
 squares of different colours, it will be found that 
 
 Black is the accidental colour of White. 
 
 White that of Black. 
 
 Red Blue. 
 
 Purfile Green. 
 
 Blue Yellow. 
 
 Green Red. 
 
 In these experiments of Buffon, the ground on which 
 the squares of natural colours were viewed, was white, 
 except in the case of the white square, which was placed 
 upon a Ijlack ground. Professor Scherffer has found, that 
 the accidental colours will be much more vivid, and their 
 outlines more distinct, if the natural colours are viewed 
 upon a black ground, and the eye transferred to a white 
 grouiid. The most convenient way of making the ex- 
 
 periments, is to use coloured wafers, fixed either upon 
 a piece of white or black paper. 
 
 In order to explain these phenomena, we must recol- 
 lect, tiiat white light is composed of seven different 
 colours, in tlie following proportions ; the colours being 
 supposed to bo arranged in the circumference of a cir- 
 cle. 
 
 Violet I or 80" 
 
 Indigo 1 or 40 
 
 Blue J or 60 
 
 Green J or 60 
 
 Yellow .j2_ Q,. 48 
 
 Orange ^^^ or 27 
 
 Red I or 45 
 
 Hence, if we take seven powders of the same colour as 
 the seven prismatic colours, and proportion tiie quanti- 
 ties of each to the numbers in the preceding Table, the 
 mixture of all these powders will be of a white colour; 
 but if the red powder, or any of the others, be with- 
 drawn, the mixture of the remaining colours will not be 
 white, as before. To illustrate this in a more simple 
 manner, let us suppose, that a circular wheel has its cir- 
 cumference divided into sectors, whose arches are ill 
 the same proportion as the preceding numbers, and 
 that each sector is painted of its proper colour, viz. the 
 sector of 80" violet, that of 40° indigo, and so on with 
 the rest, as is represented in Plate IV. Fig. 4; then if 
 this wheel be whirled briskly round its axis, its colour 
 will be white But if the red sector is taken out, or 
 painted black, and the wheel again put in motion, the 
 colour of the wheel will then be green; and, by leaving 
 out the other colours successively, the following results 
 will be obtained : 
 
 Colours omitted. Colour of the wheel in motioD. 
 
 Red Green. 
 
 Yellow Blue. 
 
 Green Purple. 
 
 Blue Red. 
 
 As this experimental method of determining the co- 
 lour which arises from mixing any number of the pris- 
 matic colours is too circuitous to be used in practice, we 
 shall proceed to point out a method by which the re- 
 sulting colour may be determined by a very simple cal- 
 culation. 
 
 Let the seven prismatic colours be arranged in a cir- 
 cle, as in Fig. 4, where each colour occupies its pro- 
 per arch of the circumference; and let us suppose each 
 colour concentrated in the centi-e of gravity of its arch ; 
 then, if we omit any of the colours, it has been found, 
 that the colour resulting from the mixture of all the 
 remaining colours, is that which is nearest to the centre 
 of gravity of the remaining arch. Thus, if we omit 
 violet, the remaining arch will be AEB, whose centre of 
 gravity is the point m, which falls in the green arch : 
 but as the point in does not coincide with g, the centre 
 of gravity of the green arch, the colour arising from a 
 mixture of all the colours, except violet, will not be 
 exactly green, but green mixed with a little yellow, as 
 the point m lies between the centres of gravity of the 
 green and yellow arches. Since v is in the centre of the 
 arch AB,and m the centre of AEB, it is evident, that the 
 point m will always be directly opposite to the centre of 
 gravity v of the violet, or omitted colour ; hence we have 
 
 i
 
 ACCIDENTAL COLOURS. 
 
 83 
 
 only to draw a diameter from the centre of gravity of the 
 omitted colour, and the extremity of that diameter will 
 point out the colour which results from the combination 
 of the rest. 
 
 If we suppose the divisions of the circle to commence 
 from A, the boundaiy of the red and violet, we shall have 
 the following Table, which will enable us to determine 
 the resulting colour without the aid of a diagram. 
 
 
 
 Position of the 
 
 
 
 Position of the 
 
 point m, or the 
 
 
 Colours. 
 
 centre of gravity 
 of each coloured 
 
 point opposite 
 the centre of 
 
 Limits of each 
 coloured arch. 
 
 
 arch. 
 
 gravity of each 
 coloured arch. 
 
 
 Violet, 
 
 40th deg. 
 
 220th deg. 
 
 From 0° to 80 
 
 Indigo, 
 
 100th 
 
 280th 
 
 80 120 
 
 Blue, 
 
 150th 
 
 330th 
 
 120 180 
 
 Green, 
 
 210th 
 
 30th 
 
 180 240 
 
 Yellow, 
 
 264th 
 
 84th 
 
 240 288 
 
 Orange, 
 
 301st ^ 
 
 121st :i 
 
 288 315 
 
 Red, 
 
 53rth I 
 
 157th 1 
 
 315 360 
 
 As the construction of the preceding Table is very 
 abvious, from the inspection of Fig. 4., a single exam- 
 ple will be sufficient to explain its use. Let it be re- 
 quired, therefore, to determine the colour which results 
 from a mixture of all the colours, except blue. In the 
 third column, we find, that the point ?n, opposite to the 
 centre of gravity of the blue arch, is in the 330th degree 
 of the circle, which appears, from the fourth column, to 
 lie between the limits of the i-ed arch, viz. 315 to 360: 
 therefore tlie resulting colour will be red, but with a 
 small mixture of orange, as the 330th degree, or the 
 pouit ?H, is between the centres of gravity of tlic red and 
 that of the orange arches, being 7" from the former, and 
 28i° from the latter. 
 
 With the aid of these preliminary observations, we 
 are in a state of preparation for explaining the pheno- 
 mena of accidental colours. When the eye is fixed for 
 some time upon a red square, the part of the retina, 
 which receives the image of the square, is strongly ex- 
 cited by the continued action of the red rays. The sen- 
 sibility of that relaxed portion of the retina to red light, 
 must therefore be diminished, in the same way as the 
 palate, when accustomed to a particular taste, ceases to 
 feel its impression. But if the red rays, which after- 
 wards fall upon the relaxed part of the retina, are feeble 
 compared with those which issued from the red square, 
 and produced the relaxation ; or if the taste, which is 
 afterwards presented to the palate, is much weaker than 
 that which first diminished its sensibility, then it is still 
 more obvious, that the debilitated portion of the respec- 
 tive organs will not be susceptible of these feebler ex- 
 citements. 
 
 When the eye therefore is turned from the red square 
 to tlie white paper, the enfeebled portion of the retina 
 is excited by the white light which flows from the pa- 
 per, but is not sensible to the impression of the red 
 rays which enter into the composition of this white light. 
 The debilitated part of the retina, therefore, is excited 
 by all the component colours of white light, except the 
 red, or by the colour resulting from their combination. 
 But it will be found, from the preceding Table, that this 
 resulting colour is blue with a mixture of green, or 
 
 bluish-green, consequently the relaxed part of the retina 
 will be sensible only to this colour, and will perceive a 
 bluish-green square upon the white paper, of the same 
 size as the red square, if the white paper and red square 
 were held at t!ie same distance; but of a greater or less 
 size, according as the distance of tlie white paper is 
 greater or less than the distance of the red square. 
 Hence the accidental colour of red is bluish-green, or, 
 in general, the accidental colour of any natural colour is 
 that which results from the mixture of all the colours of 
 the spectrum, except the natural colour itself. When 
 the square first viewed by the eye is black, it is obvious 
 that the part of the retina on which its image falls, is 
 not excited by any rays, while all the surrounding part 
 of the membrane is excited, and enfeebled, by the image 
 of the white paper upon which the black square is 
 placed. If the eye, therefore, be fixed upon a white 
 ground, the light of this ground will make the strongest 
 impression upon the unexcited part of the retina, and, 
 consequently, there will appear, on the white ground, a 
 square whiter than the surrounding portion. The very 
 reverse of this will happen, when a white square, upon 
 a black ground, is viewed by the eye. 
 
 From this hypothesis we may now construct a table 
 of accidental colours more accurate than that which 
 Buffon deduced from experiment. The table, however, 
 which is thus formed, is founded on the supposition, 
 that the natural colours employed are of the same kind 
 as the prismatic ones. 
 
 Natural 
 
 Colours. 
 Red, 
 Orange, 
 Yellow, 
 
 Accidental Colours. 
 
 Blue, with a small mixture of Greejt. 
 
 Blue, with nearly an equal part of Indigo. 
 
 Indigo, with a considerable mixture of Vio- 
 let. 
 
 Violet, with a mixture of Red. 
 
 Red, with a mixture of Orange. 
 
 Yellow, with a considerable mixture of 
 Orange. 
 
 Green, with a considerable mixture of Blue. 
 
 Green, 
 
 Blue, 
 
 Indigo, 
 
 Violet, 
 
 There is one appearance observed by BufFon, which 
 does not seem to have been explained, either by that 
 philosopher, or by any succeeding author. The writer 
 of the article Accidental Colours, in the Suppl. to 
 the Encyc. Brit., has attempted to account for it ; Isut it 
 is easy to show, that he has ascribed the phenomenon to 
 a wrong cause. The appearance to which we allude, is 
 the fringe of accidental colour, which seems to surround 
 the coloured squa,re, before the eye is transferred to the 
 white ground. This fringe is ascribed, in the article 
 now quoted, to a dilatation of the pupil, without any 
 explanation of the process by which the fringe is gene- 
 rated. 
 
 We presume, however, that, in this explanation, the 
 dilatation of the pupil is supposed to increase the image 
 of the square upon the retina ; so that the white light 
 from the paper, immediately surrounding the real square, 
 falls upon that part of the retina over which die incre- 
 ment of the image is expanded, and produces the acci- 
 dental colour of the square, stretching as far beyond the 
 real square, as the image on the retina, increased by the 
 dilatation of the pupil, stretches beyond the image 
 which is formed before the pupil begins to expand. 
 Admitting the dilatation of the pupil, which, in the pre- 
 sent case, we are disposed to call in question, the only 
 effect of it would be to give us a larger image of the 
 
 L :
 
 84 
 
 ACCIDENTAL COLOUKS. 
 
 veal square ; or if, from any occult cause, a fringe should 
 be produced, its colour ought to be much fainter than 
 the accidental colour of the square ; for tlie part of the 
 retina, which produces the fringe, has not been so long 
 excited as the part which produces the accidental colour. 
 There is, however, no perceptible difference between 
 this colour and the fringe, so tliat the phenomenon must 
 be traced to a different cause. 
 
 K we examine with accuracy this coloured fringe, we 
 shall find, that, in general, it does not completely sur- 
 round the real sciuare, but appears only on one or two 
 sides of the square at the same time ; and if a circle is 
 used instead of a square, the fringe will be a lunula, or 
 lucid bow, surrounding only one half of the circumference. 
 Had this single circumstance been attended to, philoso- 
 phers might have readily discovered, that the fringe 
 arose from the unsteadiness of the observer's eye, which 
 cannot remain fixed on the same pomt of the square, or 
 circle. The smallest aberration of the eye, which begins 
 to be unsteady in a short time, will therefore make the 
 image of the white paper, contiguous to the square, fall 
 upon tlie excited part of the retina, and thus produce 
 the accidental coloured fringe, which will increase with 
 the unsteadiness of the eye. If, from the unsteadiness 
 of the head or hand of the observer, the paper, on which 
 the square is placed, should be removed to a greater dis- 
 tance from the eye, than when the in<pression was made 
 upon the retina, the fringe will surround the whole 
 square ; and may be made to assume any size, by in- 
 creasing tlie distance of the paper from the eye, after 
 the retina has been sufficiently excited. In this case, 
 the natural-coloured square will be surrounded with a 
 square of accidental colour, the sides of the squares 
 forming any angle with each other, according to the po- 
 sition of the real square. 
 
 When the retina is highly excited by the action of the 
 coloured light, the accidental colour appears, though 
 ■with much less brilliancy, when the eye is shut. This, 
 however, evidently arises from a small quantity of light, 
 which is transmitted through the eyelids. It has been 
 maintained, (Sup. Encyc. Brit.) that the accidental co- 
 
 Number and order of the natural-coloured Squares. 
 Yellow Green . 
 
 Green Blue 
 
 Red Green . 
 
 Green Yellow Red . . 
 
 lours >vUl appear, even if we retire into a dark room ; 
 but this is physically impossible. From the duration of 
 the impressions of light upon the retina, the square may, 
 in this case, appear of its natural colour, and actually 
 does so; but the presence of light is absolutely neces- 
 sary to the generation of accidental colours. 
 
 In order to show, that the same colour results from 
 the combination of accidental colours, as from the com- 
 bination of real ones, professor Scherff'er placed two 
 small squares, in contact with each other, upon a black 
 ground, the square on the left being yellow, and that on 
 the right red. He then fixed his eye for a few seconds on 
 the centre of the yellow square, and, without moving his 
 head, he fixed it for the same time on the centre of the 
 red square ; his eye was then returned to the yellow 
 square, and the operation of viewing each stjuare alter- 
 nately was repeated three or four times. When this pait 
 of tiie experiment was completed, he turned his eye to a 
 white wall, on which there appeared three squares, in 
 contact with each other. The square on the left was 
 viulct, the middle square was a mixture of green and 
 dlue, and the colour of the right hand square was a vivid 
 green. When the eye is fixed on the yellow square, the 
 image of it falls upon the centre of the retina, and pro- 
 duces an accidental colour of indigo-violet ; but when 
 the eye is transferred to the red square, its image falls 
 likewise upon the centre of the retina, and produces an 
 accidental colour of bluish-green ; consequently the 
 mixture of these accidental colours produces green and 
 blue, wliich is therefore the accidental colour that ap- 
 pears in the middle square. But while the eye was 
 fixed on the yellow square, the image of the red square 
 fell upon one side of the centre of the retina, and pro- 
 duced the accidental colour of green, which appeared in 
 tlie right hand square ; and, while the eye was fixed on 
 the red square, the image of the yellow square fell upon 
 the other side of the centre of the retina, and produced 
 the accidental colour of indigo-violet, which appeared 
 in the left hand square. This, we presume, is the true 
 explanation of the phenomena, and may be applied to the 
 following experunents of Scherffer. 
 
 Number and order of the Accidental Colours. 
 
 Blue 
 
 Yellow 
 
 Red 
 
 Deep Blue Violet with much Red 
 
 Reddish Orange 
 
 Green Dark brown 
 
 Reddish Deep pur- Deep Green and 
 
 pie blue blue 
 
 Pale yel- Greenish Deep Green and 
 low blue green blue 
 
 Pale Red 
 Pale Yellow 
 Red 
 Green 
 
 Green 
 
 The preceding experiments, which were intended 
 merely to prove the mixture of accidental colours, might 
 have been conducted with much more simplicity. If, 
 for example, in the case of the yellow and red squares, 
 the one were always concealed when the eye was exa- 
 mining the other, then, if the eye, after an alternate exa- 
 mination of each square, were transferred to a white 
 ground instead of three squares, it would perceive only 
 one, which will be found to be a combination of the two 
 accidental colours, like the middle square in Scherffer's 
 experiment. The eficctof the experiment will be still 
 more beautiful when one of the squares is larger than 
 the other. If we make the red square largest, and exa- 
 mine the two squares as before, we shall have, by turning 
 the eye to a white surface, the appearance of one square 
 enclosed in another: the interior square will be green 
 
 and blue, or the mixture of the accidental colours of the 
 red and yellow squares, while the exterior square is the 
 accidental colour of tlie red square. If the yellow square 
 is the largest, the interior square will be the same as be- 
 fore, but the exterior one will be the accidental colour 
 of yellow. 
 
 In the course of his experiments, BufTon remarked, 
 that the figure and colour of a red square underwent 
 several curious transformations, by looking at it steadily 
 for a very long time. These phenomena, however, were 
 observed after his eye had been reduced by fatigue to an 
 extreme degree of debility ; and, therefore, it would be 
 absurd to attempt an explanation of appearances, which 
 probably arose from the diseased state of the organ. 
 
 The subject of accidental colours has been investigat- 
 ed by M. iEpinus ; but he has attended only to tljose
 
 ACCIDENTAL COLOURS. 
 
 85 
 
 phenomena which were produced by the impression of some illusion attending; it, I sliall insert the account 
 the solar image upon the retina. When the sun was whicli I drew up at llic time for a scientific friend, and 
 near the horizon, and the brilliancy of his light diminish- request the reader to consider it, not as a scientific fact, 
 cd by the interposition of thin clouds or floating cxhala- but as a point which is to be confirmed or overthrown by 
 tions, M. jEpinus fixed his eye steadily on the solar disc subsequent experiments. " I was surprised to find, upon 
 for the space of 15 seconds. After shutting his eye, he uncovering my right eye, and turning it to a white 
 perceived an irregular pale yellow image of the sun, ground, that it also gave a coloured spectrum exactly 
 verging to green like sulphur, and surrounded with a the reverse of the first speclrimi, which was jiink sur- 
 faint red border. As soon as he opened his eye, and rounded with grein. This result was so extraordinary, 
 turned it to a white ground, the image of the sun was that I repeated the experiment twice, in order to be se- 
 brownish red, and its encircling border was sky-blue, cure against deception, and always with the same result. 
 When his eye was again shut, the image of the sun be- The spectrum in the left eye was uniformly invigorated 
 came green, and the border a red colour, different from by closing the eyelids, because the images of external 
 the last. Upon opening his eye, and turning it to the objects cfl'acc the impression upon the retina ; and wlien 
 white ground as before, the image was more red than I refreshed the spectrum in tlie left eye, the spectrum in 
 formerly, and the border a brighter sky-blue. His eye the right was also strengthened. On repeating the ex- 
 being again shut, the image appeared green approach- periment a third time, the spectrum appeared in both 
 ing to sky-blue, and the border red, still differing from eyes, which seems to prove, that the impression of thr 
 the former. When his eye was opened as before, upon a solar image was conzn'ijcd by the optic nerve from the left 
 white ground, the image was still red, and its border to the right eye; ior the right eye being shut, could not 
 sky-blue, but the shades of these colours were different be affected by the luminous image.* After these expe- 
 from the last. At the end of four or five minutes, when riments, my eyes were reduced to such a state of ex- 
 his eye was shut, the image was a fine sky-blue, and the treme debility, that they were unfit for any further trials, 
 border a brilliant red; and upon opening his eye as be- A spectrum of a darkish hue floated before the left eye 
 fore, the image was a brilliant red, and the border a fine for many hours, which was succeeded by the most ex- 
 sky-blue. By considering that the colour of the sun ap- cruciating pains, shooting through every part of the 
 proached to orange, and that when the eyes arc shut, red head. These pains, accompanied with a slight inflam- 
 light is still admitted through the eyelids, the preceding mation in both eyes, continued for several days, and pre- 
 phenomcna may admit of satisfactory explanation. It vented me from varying the experiments." This debi- 
 was observed by jEpinus, that the image of the sun, lity of the eyes has continued for two years, and several 
 after his eye was fixed on the white ground, frequently parts of the retina in both eyes have completely lost their 
 disappeared, returned, and disappeared again, and that sensibility. I must therefore leave it to other observers 
 it generally disappeared when he wished to examine it, to confirm or overthrow this experiment, 
 but returned when the eye was not prepared for observ- Dr R. Darwin has made some ingenious observations 
 ing it. on the subject of accidental colours. The images which 
 These experiments of jEpinus were repeated under arise from the duration of the impression of light upon 
 different circumstances by the editor of this work. In- the retina, and those which are accidentally coloured, 
 stead of looking at the sun when obscured and tinged he calls spectra, some of which, as the black spectrum 
 with yellow by the interposition of clouds and vapours, from a white object, arise from a defect of sensibility ; 
 I took advantage of a fine summer's day, when the sun and others, as the white spectrum from a black object, 
 was near the meridian, and formed a very brilliant and arise from an excess of sensibility. The spectra which 
 distinct image of his disc by means of the concave have the same colour as the object that makes the im- 
 jnirror of a reflecting telescope. My right eye being pression upon the retina, such as the red spectrum of a 
 tied up, 1 viev.'cd this luminous disc with the left through red square, which appears rfler the eye is shut and all 
 a tube, which prevented any extraneous light from fall- light excluded, he calls direct spectra, and those which 
 ing upon the retuia. When the retina was highly ex- have the accidental colour of the object examined, he 
 cited by the solar image, I turned my left eye to a while calls reverse spectra. The various experiments which 
 ground, and perceived the following appearances by al- he relates, may be easily explained from the principles 
 ternately opening and shutting it. already laid down : the physiological conclusions which 
 
 he has deduced from them, do not belong to this article. 
 
 Spectra with the left Spectr.^ with the left See PM. rraws. 1786, p. 313. 
 
 Eye open. Eye shut. It can scarcely be expected, that, in a work like the 
 
 1. Pink surrounded with green . . . Green present, we can enumerate the various phenomena which 
 
 2. Orange mixed with Pink .... Blue may be explained by the theory of accidental colours. 
 
 3. Yellowish Brown Bluish Pink That the reader, however, may be able to trace these 
 
 4. Yellow phenomena to their proper source, it may be necessary 
 
 5. Pure Red Sky Blue to mention, that the general causes of such appearan- 
 
 6. Orange Incligo ces in the open air, are to be found in the verdure of the 
 
 fields, the azure colour of the sea, the blueness of the 
 
 This series of colours is much more extensive than that sky, the golden brilliancy of the rising and setting sun, 
 
 observed by TEpinus, because the retina was more and the ruddy hue of the morning and evening clouds, 
 
 strongly excited by the sun's light. When such phenomena are seen in a room, they are 
 
 After uncovering my right eye, a remarkable pheno- generally to be traced to the colour of the walls, or the 
 
 menon appeared ; but as I am afraid that there was window-curtains, and sometimes to that of the car- 
 
 • Immediately before the spectrum given by the right eye vanished, the green image was surrounded to a considerable distance with 
 total darkness, so that the corresponding pait of the retina was completely insensible to light
 
 86 
 
 ACC 
 
 ACC 
 
 pet or the furniture, when strongly illuminated by ilic 
 sun. 
 
 Dr Darwin vciy properly infers, from the theory of 
 accidental colours, that in the dial-plate of a clock or 
 watch, or in a book printed with small types, the letters 
 or figures should be of such a colour, that their spectra 
 or accidental colours may be of the same hue as the 
 ground on which they are placed. When this is done, 
 the letters will appear most distinct, because the spectra 
 arising from the unsteadiness of the eye cannot become 
 visible. We conceive, however, that the theory is capa- 
 ble of a much more extensive application, and that, at 
 some future time, which is not far distant, a knowledge 
 of accidental colours will be deemed absolutely necessa- 
 ry to the manufacturer in the fabrication of coloured 
 stuffs. It will be unifomily found, that, in every combi- 
 nation of colours, those are the most pleasing to the eye, 
 in which the prominent colour is placed upon a ground 
 similar to its accidental colour : the general efi'ect will 
 not be injured by the appearance of partial or complete 
 spectra, and the organ of sight will not be distracted by 
 floating images alternately soliciting his attention, and 
 escaping from his view. Whenever theory seems to 
 come in contact with practice, the connexion should be 
 diligently traced tlirough all its consequences ; for it is 
 frequently thus that philosophy becomes the handmaid of 
 the arts. 
 
 Before concluding this article, we shall present the 
 reader with a new theory of accidental colours, proposed 
 by the celebrated La Place, and published in the 2d 
 edition of Haiiy's Tniiie dt Pliysi(jue. La Place sup- 
 poses, " that there exists in the eye a certain disposi- 
 tion, in virtue of which, the red rays comprised in the 
 whiteness of the ground are at the moment when they 
 arrive at that organ, in a manner attracted by those 
 which form the predominant red colour of the circle ; so 
 that the two impressions become blended into one, and 
 the green colour finds itself at liberty to act as though it 
 existed alone. According to this method of conceiving 
 things, the sensation of the red decomposes that of the 
 whiteness, and while the homogeneous actions combine 
 together, the action of the heterogeneous rays which are 
 disengaged from the combination produces its effect 
 separately." This hypothesis, unauthorized by experi- 
 ment, is intitled to our regard solely from the imrivalled 
 genius of its illustrious author. In a subsequent article, 
 in which we propose to give a new theory of acciden- 
 tal colours, founded on a number of experiments, we 
 shall be able to give a direct refutation of La Place's 
 theory. 
 
 The writer of this article is engaged in a set of ex- 
 periments connected with accidental colours, by which 
 he expects to reduce the various colours in nature to 
 a fixed nomenclature, — to ascertain the elements of 
 which they are composed, and the proportion in which 
 these elements are combined ; and to determine the 
 duration of the impression of light upon the retina, when 
 ■ proceeding from bodies of various colours, and under 
 different degrees of illumination. The results of these 
 experiments may probably be comnmnicated in some 
 subsequent article. Those who wish to study the sub- 
 ject of accidental colours, are referred to the works 
 already quoted, and to Jiirin's Essatj on Distinct and In- 
 distinct Vision, at the end of f>?)iith's 0/itics. Observations 
 xur la P/iysi'/uc, par Rozier, is'c. vol. xxvi. p. 175. 273. 
 291. Porterjicld oti the Eye, vol. i. p. 343. Buffon, 
 Man. Acad. Par. 1743. p. 215. jEpinus, J^'ou. Commejit. 
 
 Pc/ro/t. tom.x. p. 286. Gregory's Translation o/llnuy's 
 Mit. Phil. vol. ii. p. 424. Addenda. Mem. Acad. Berlin, 
 vol. ii. for 1771. See also Chromatics, Colour, Op- 
 tics, Shadow, and Spectrum, {w) 
 
 ACCIPENSER, a genus of fishes, belonging to the 
 order cartilaginei. The fishes of this genus are very 
 large, and are all inhabitants of the sea. As their flesh 
 is delicate, they form a considerable article of commerce 
 on the banks of the Caspian, and in many parts of Eu- 
 rope and America. See Ichthyology, {w) 
 
 ACCIPITRES, the name of the first order of birds 
 in the Liimsean system. See Ornithology, and Hawk. 
 
 ACCISMUS, from uxxic-i^cq, denotes the relusal of any 
 thing which we anxiously wish. It is supposed to be 
 derived from Acco, the name of a curious female, who 
 was noted for this species of affectation. This old lady, 
 whose life is written by Bayle, is said to have run dis- 
 tracted, when she found from her glass that old age had 
 deformed her features. Plutarch informs us, that her 
 name was used by mothers to terrify their children. 
 See Plutarch, de Utoic. Ne/tugnant. p. 1040, and Calius 
 Rhodiginus, lib. vi. cap. 15. and lib. xvi. cap. 2. (w) 
 
 ACCIUS, or Attius Lucius, a Roman tragic poet, 
 and the son of a freedman, was born about the year of 
 Rome 583. B. C. 170. He was highly esteemed, and 
 publicly patronized by Decimus Brutus, consul in 615, 
 whose victories he had celebrated in several poems, and 
 who, in return, caused some oi his verses to be inscri- 
 bed on the temples and monuments that were erected 
 in honour of his military triumphs. {Cic. de Archia Poeta, 
 c. xi. Valer. Max. lib. viii. 14.) The subjects of his 
 tragedies were taken principally from the Grecian his- 
 tory ; and fragments of no fewer than fifiy of them, 
 among which are two intitled Medea, are still extant, 
 but in such a mutilated state, that it is impossible to 
 form any correct opinion of his merits as a dramatic 
 author. He composed, however, at least one tragedy en- 
 tirely Roman, called Brutus, which related to the ex- 
 pulsion of the Tarquins ; and he is supposed, not without 
 some probability to have also written comedies. Be- 
 sides his dramatic writings, he was the author of Annals, 
 in verse, which are mentioned by Macrobius, Priscian, 
 Festus, and Nonnius IVIarcellus ; and, according to the 
 testimony of Aulus Gellius, of a treatise in prose, called 
 Didascalida, relating to poets and poetry. He was held 
 in such high estimation by the public, that a comedian 
 was punished for only mentioning his name on the stage. 
 His style has been censured for its harshness, but this 
 Quinctilian ascribes more to the age in which he lived, 
 than to his negligence ; and, when speaking of him and 
 his contemporary Pacuvius, passes a high encomium on 
 their tragic works, as excelling in dignity of sentiment, 
 force of language, and majesty of character. The 
 opinion of some, that his talents, as a historian, are de- 
 rided by Cicero, {De Clar. Orat. and De Legibus,) is 
 fully refuted, not only by the frequent honourable men- 
 tion that is,made of him in the writings of that orator, 
 but by the fact, that the Accius, of whom Cicero speaks 
 contemptuously, wrote in prose, whereas the Annah 
 of Lucius Accius were in verse. See Vossius de Poet. 
 Latin, p. 7. Quinctil. InsCifut. lib. v. cap. 13. lib. x. 
 cap. 1. (rf) 
 
 ACCLAMATION, a confused noise or shout, by 
 which the public express their opinion or applause of 
 any thing. In a more restricted sense, it denotes a 
 certain formula of words, uttered with extraordinary ve-
 
 ACCLAMATION. 
 
 87 
 
 hemencc, and in a peculiar chanting tone, frequent in 
 the ancient assemblies. 
 
 Acclamations were generally accompanied with ap- 
 plauses ; liom which, however, they ought to be distin- 
 guished, applause being given by the liands, and 
 bestowed only on persons that were present; acclama- 
 tion, by the voice, and on those also who were absent. 
 Acclamation was sometimes given, by women, hut ap- 
 plause seems to have been confined to men. Acclama- 
 tions are of diftcrent kinds ; 7xujitial^ ncholastic, theatrical, 
 jiiilitarij, senatorial, and ecclesiastical. 
 
 The formulae, or expressions used in acclamation, 
 were of various kinds, corresponding to the occasion 
 on which they were employed, though as will be im- 
 mediately noticed, the same forms were frequently used, 
 even when the subjects to which they related were dis- 
 similar. Indeed, being merely general expressions of 
 joy and respect, or of reproach and contumely, it is 
 naturally to be expected, that they will resemble one 
 another. 
 
 Acclamations were an essential part of the nuptial 
 ceremony, both among the Greeks and the Romans. 
 Thus epithalamian songs, both on the evening of the 
 marriage and the morning after, may be regarded in 
 this light ; for in these the praises of the bridegroom 
 and bride were celebrated, and fervent wishes for their 
 happiness expressed. The Roman formula was, in 
 general, Feliciter, or lo Hymen. These were the Ixta 
 o;H/«n, mentioned by Seneca, {In Octav. iv. 1. 704.) with 
 v/hich the citizens hailed the nuptials of Nero and Pop- 
 paea. 
 
 The scholastic acclamations are those which were 
 bestowed on authors, who recited their works, either in 
 the public assemblies, or the more private academies ; 
 and their admirers were careful that they should be con- 
 ferred in the most solemn and respectful manner. In- 
 vitations were sent, and presents sometimes given, to 
 procure them ; nor was it uncommon for men of fortune 
 to keep able applauders in their service, and lend them 
 to their friends. These acclamations were frequently 
 accompanied with music ; and the formulae were varied 
 according to the character of the author, and the nature 
 of his compositions. One of the most usual forms was 
 c-ntpa, or, perhaps crofoii, luisihj, repeated three limes ; 
 {Martial, i. 4, Sec.) and sometimes i7r£^(pvSi;, i. e. supra 
 quain did fiossit. The same author (ii. 27. S.) compre- 
 hends several other customary forms in this verse : 
 
 "Effecte, ^i-uviter, cito, nequiter, Euge, Beate." 
 
 The acclamations of the theatre, simple and artless 
 during the first ages of the Roman commonwealth, were 
 gradually changed, from confused and tumultuous shouts, 
 into a sort of regular concerts. In this form they ex- 
 isted during the reign of Augustus, but were still more 
 highly improved by Nero, who himself played on the 
 stage, and gave the signal to the band of acclaimers, 
 which on one occasion consisted of five thousand sol- 
 diers, called ^i/^2/sra/s, who immediately began to chant 
 his praise, and the spectators were obliged to repeat 
 them. The responses were conducted by a music 
 master, called M< rocliorus, or Pausarius. At the public 
 festivals and games, as well as in the theatres, accla- 
 mations were given not only to the emperors, their 
 children, favourites, and the magistrates who presided, 
 but to others of distinguished literary or civil merit, to 
 the actors, and to those who carried off the prizes. The 
 
 most common foniiulae were Jnno» fclices, Longiorem. 
 vitam, feliciter. Those with which the victories of the 
 Athletae were honoured, were loud and extravagant, ac- 
 companied with violent gestures, expressing sometimes 
 compassion and joy, sometimes horror and disgust. 
 
 Military acclamations were employed Ijy the Romans 
 at the election of their commanders, when the soldiers 
 exclaimed, Dii te sencnt im/ierator ; and when about 
 to engage the enemy, they cried out Victoria. {Cj:sar,dc 
 Bell. Gall. v. 36.) The Greeks also began their battles 
 with a general shout, called a,Xct,>.a,yfA.ii(i, from the soldiers 
 repeating the word «AaA, and, according to Suidas, some- 
 times tXiXiv. This custom indeed was general among 
 all ancient nations, and still exists in many parts of the 
 world. When a war was finished, or the enemy com- 
 pletely routed, the victorious army expressed their joy, 
 by pronouncing aloud the name of their commander; 
 and after their return, their acclamations were increased, 
 and re-echoed by the citizens, whilst they marched in 
 procession to deposit the spoils in the capital. The 
 city resounded with the cry of Salve imjierator, Vestra 
 salus, ^J'ostra salus, or lo triiunjihe. So Horace, in ad- 
 dressing Anton. lulus, says : 
 
 " Tuque dum procedis, lo tiiumphe, 
 Non semel dicemus, lo triuniphe, 
 Civitas omnis." — Od. 11. lib. iv. 49. 
 
 The acclamations in the senate, though more so- 
 lemn, were evidently borrowed from the theatres, being 
 made, not at the pleasure of any individual, but, as in 
 the choruses, by the direction of a person appointed for 
 the purpose. They do not seem to have been intro- 
 duced till about the time of Trajan ; and were so much 
 abused, and so inconsistent w ith the dignity of the court, 
 that Claudian procured their abolition. But flattery be- 
 ing always pleasing to tyrants, the custom was soon re- 
 sumed ; the emperors receiving not only at their first 
 election, but whenever they entered the senate, that in- 
 cense of adulation which is offered to the rank, oftener 
 than to the merit, of princes. The same may be said 
 respecting the acclamations of the populace, which were 
 as liberally conferred on the stupid Vitellius, and the 
 sanguhiary Nero, as on Trajan, who so trulv deserved 
 the title of Ojitimus. When the emperors gave largesses 
 of money or pi-ovisions to the people, the form of accla- 
 mation commonly was, " De nostris annis tibi Jupiter 
 augeat annos." (Tertull. Apol. c. 35.) 
 
 The Greek emperors were afterwards greeted with 
 acclamations, taken from those of the Romans, the peo- 
 ple chanting out, UaXXx i]yi, " Many years." Nay, Plu- 
 tarch mentions an acclamation so loud, on the occasion 
 of Flaminius restoring liberty to Greece, that the birds 
 fell from the sky at the shout. The Turks still observe 
 a similar ceremony at the sight of their emperors and 
 grand viziers ; and the custom of saluting kings, con- 
 querors, and distinguished persons, with some forms of 
 acclamation, is very general and prevalent. 
 
 At first confined to amusements and political subjects, 
 acclamations were at length practised in ecclesiastical 
 assemblies. Sermons were applauded with the hands 
 and feet, the people most extravagantly and absurdly 
 interrupting the preacher, by calling out, " Orthodox 1 
 Third Apostle !" Sec. whilst they shook their loose gai'- 
 ments, and waved their handkerchiefs, in token of their 
 approbation. This practice was condemned by Chrysos- 
 tom, yet tolerated by Augustine ; but good sense, and 
 religious decorum, at last succeeded in banishing it from
 
 as 
 
 ACC 
 
 ACC 
 
 the solemn services of Christian worship. Pitiaci Lct. 
 Ant. Rom. Potter's Archxol. Grec. Suidas in EAeA. Bing- 
 ham's Orig. Ecct. xiv. 4. Lardner's Works, vol. iii. 
 
 81. (rf) , 
 
 ACCOLADE, or Accolee, from ad and collum, the 
 name of a ceremony employed in the conferring of 
 knighthood. It conbisted, according to some antiqua- 
 rians, in an embrace, or kiss, with which the king ho- 
 noured the new knight as a mark of esteem. Gregory 
 de Tours informs us, that the kings of France formerly 
 kissed the knights on the left cheek, when they conferred 
 the gilt shoulder-belt. It is the opinion of other anti- 
 quarians, that the ceremony in question was perfomied 
 by givmg a blow on the chine of the neck. According 
 to John of Salisbury, the accolee, or blow, was used among 
 the ancient Normans ; and William the Conqueror 
 conferred the order of knighthood upon his son by a 
 similar process. The blow was originally given by the 
 naked fist, according to Lambertus Ardensis, but was af- 
 terwards changed into a stroke with the flat of the sword 
 upon the knight's shoulder. Fauchet endeavours to re- 
 concile these two opinions, by supposing the kiss to be in- 
 tended as a stroke upon the cheek, (w) 
 
 ACCOLTI, Bernardo, surnamed L'U»ico, or the 
 A'o7i-such, from the wonderful strength of his under- 
 standing, and the variety of sciences with which he was 
 acquainted. His talents as a poet gained him a seat 
 among the academicians of the court of Urbino ; and so 
 high v/as he in the esteem of Leo X. that this generous 
 patron of literature created him prince of the state of 
 Nepi, in 1520. The generosity of Leo was immediately 
 rewarded by a poem, still in MS. inlitled, " The Libera- 
 lity of Pope Leo X." The reputation of Accolti was so 
 great, that when he was to recite publicly at Rome, all 
 the shops were shut, the people flocked to hear him, 
 princes and prelates honoured him with their presence, 
 and every ceremony was observed which could give 
 pomp and solemnity to the scene. The talents of Ac- 
 colti, however, seem to have had more splendour than 
 solidity, and he appears to have excelled more as an im- 
 provisatore, than as a poet, (o) 
 
 ACCOMMODATION, the application of one thing 
 by analogy to another, in consequence of a resemblance, 
 either real or supposed, between them. To know a 
 thing by accommodation, is to know it by the idea of a 
 similar thing referred to it. 
 
 In theology, the term accommodation is applied to 
 what may be called the indirect fulfilment of prophecy ; 
 as when passages, that originally related to one event, 
 are quoted as if they referred to another, in which some 
 resemblance may be traced. The method of explaining 
 scripture on this principle of accommodation, serves, it 
 has been said, as a key for solving some of the greatest 
 difficulties relating to the prophecies. It has been justly 
 called a convenient principle ; for, if it were once gen- 
 erally adopted, we should get rid of the strongest proofs 
 of the truth of Christianity, w'hich prophecy has hither- 
 to been supposed to furnish. It is not affirmed, that 
 this is either the wish or the design of some of the au- 
 thors who have adopted and defended the pi-inciple of 
 accommodation ; but scarcely any of them, with the ex- 
 ception perhaps of one or two German divines, have 
 pleaded for its unlimited application to the Old Tes- 
 tament predictions. It is vain to press even Michaelit 
 into the service, as has been lately attempted ; for both 
 he, and his no less acute and learned commentator 
 Marsh, expressly avow, not merely their doubt of the 
 
 propriety of universally extending this principle, but 
 their conviction of the danger with which it would be 
 attended, and of the inconclusive reasonuigs which its 
 pati-ons have brought forward in its dctcnce. (Vid. 
 Marsh's Michaelis, vol. i. p 200 — 214. and Notes, p. 
 470 — 479.) The ibllowing view of the subject is taken 
 chiefly from their statements. 
 
 This mode of interpreting the prophecies was early 
 introduced among theologians, probably by Origen, who 
 employs it under the name oiOiMsofnu,, (which the Latin 
 fathers afterwards called dinjienauito,) in replying to th« 
 objections of Celsus; and whose allegorical disposition 
 did such injury to the cause of truth. Tlicy ex- 
 pressly affirmed, that the apostles accommodated their 
 quotations from the Old Testament to the prejudices of 
 the Jews, without any regard to their original import ; 
 an opinion the most unwarrantable and dangerous ; for 
 that those who were commissioned to publish the re- 
 velations of God to mankuid, should have recourse to 
 such an unjustifiable anifice, is contrary to all the no- 
 tions wliich sound reason, the ultimate judge of tlic 
 truth of revelation, leads us to form respecting the di- 
 vine character and conduct. Dr Eckermann extends 
 the doctrine of accommodation to every quotation in 
 the New Testament without exception ; proceeding on 
 the hypotliesis, that the Old Testament contains no pro- 
 phecy which literally and immediately relates to the 
 person of Jesus Christ. Dr Owen, on the contraiy, in 
 his "Modes ot Quotation," § 5. entirely rejects the prin- 
 ciple of accommodation ; to whose opinion Michaelis is, 
 in most cases, inclined to accede, though with this es- 
 sential difference, that he admits only a grammatical 
 and literal, whilst Dr Owen contends for a typical, mean- 
 ing of particular passages. 
 
 With respect to the quotations from the Jewish scrip- 
 tures, contained in the New Testament, it seems neces- 
 sary to make an accurate distinction between those 
 which, being merely borrowed, are used as the words 
 of the person who quotes them, and those which are pro- 
 duced as proofs of a doctrine, or the completion of a 
 prophecy. In the one case, accommodation may be 
 allowed ; for it is n'atural to suppose, that the writers of 
 the New Testament, from their intimate acquaintance 
 with the Septuagint, might often allude to passages, and 
 quote them from memory, as an illustration of what they 
 were stating, without directly intending to bring them 
 forward as irresistible arguments. But, in the other 
 case, there is no little difficulty, and even hazard, in 
 having recourse to this principle ; for if it once be ad- 
 mitted, that the evangelists and apostles, and even our 
 Lord himself, employed arguments which, on this sup- 
 position, are evidently no arguments at all, the mspira- 
 tion of the one, and the divine mission of the other, must 
 be extremely equivocal. 
 
 If it were true, that the Old Testament was falsely 
 quoted in the New, when either doctrines or prophecies 
 are the subjects of discussion, it would be necessary to 
 make the following distinctions. (1.) If such quotations 
 were discovered in a book, whose canonical authority is 
 doubted, they must be regarded as human errors, and 
 the inspiration of the book itself be abandoned. (2.) If 
 they could be found in those books which belong to the 
 ojnoAoySiM-eva, the inspiration of these books also must be 
 given up, though no inference could be drawn that the 
 apostles were not preachers of a divine religion. But 
 (3.) were it possible to show, that the very author of 
 our religion had made a wrong application of any text
 
 ACC 
 
 ACC 
 
 Hi 
 
 of the Old Testament, it would follow, that he was not 
 infallible ;iuid lliut Christianity itself wus false. 
 
 It seems panieulai'ly obvious, tliat the prineiple of ac- 
 coinmodauon should not be hastily adopted wliere the 
 strong expressions are used, " This was done that it 
 might be fullilled which was spoken by the prophet ;" 
 or, "Then was fulfilled that which was spoken," &c. 
 A formula of this kind is never used in quoting from a 
 classic author; it is, therefore, no arguiueiit hi favour 
 of accommodation, in these cases, to say, with Nicholls, 
 f Conference ivith a T/idst, P. HI. p. 11.) that no one 
 would object to a writer who should address the apos- 
 tles, in the words of Virgil's invocation of the Sun and 
 Moon, 
 
 Vos o clarissima mundi 
 
 Lumina. 
 
 Every one must perceive that these cases are quite dis- 
 similar, and that when the sacred writers used the above 
 expressions, they were persuaded, that the passages 
 which they introduced did directly refer to the events 
 to which they applied them. Wetstein fJVote on Mat. 
 i. 22.) alleges an example of similar latitude of expres- 
 sion from Ephrem Syrus ; and Dr Sykcs {Introduction to 
 t/if Hebrews, § 3.) appeals to other writers also. The 
 authority of Jerom, however, whom he quotes among 
 the rest, is of little weight, as that learned father was 
 an avowed allegorist. The examples of Wetstein, and 
 those which Dr Sykes has <|U0tcd from Epiphanius and 
 Olympiodorus, are not much more conclusive, being 
 only similar to the language which we would use in 
 cautioning any one, "Let not that be fulfilled in thee ;" 
 where the caution itself implies, that the words to which 
 wc allude are no prophecy. 
 
 Dr Sykes, indeed, affirms, that if we were better ac- 
 quainted with the Jewish phraseology, we should less 
 hesitate in admitting the principle of accommodation. 
 As to the particular term " fulfilled," he says, the Jew- 
 ish writers *ery often meant no more by it, than the 
 Jiappening of a similar event, or an exact agreement in 
 particular circumstances of latter things with former : 
 and that the masters of the synagogue, applied pas- 
 sages of the Old Testament, in senses very remote 
 from that of the original author. But, not to insist on 
 the impropriety of putting the inspired writers of the 
 New Testament on a level with the Jewish Rabbis, it 
 must not be concealed, that this learned author has pro- 
 duced no examples from the Talmud, or from any Jew- 
 ish commentator, where similar expressions are used 
 incases of mere accommodation ; and no assertion can 
 be admitted without authority. This omission is the 
 more inexcusable, that the very principle which he de- 
 fends, rests almost entirely on the decision of the ques- 
 tion. Did the Rabbis, in quoting passages from the Old 
 Testament, with a formula of this kind, " In this the 
 scripture was fulfilled," consider these passages as di- 
 rectly referring to the events to which they applied them ? 
 or did they ground the quotation on a mere parity of cir- 
 cumstances ? It is no small presumption against his as- 
 sertions, that Surenhusius, who has accurately examined 
 this question in his B(/3Ao? y.«T«AA£tyi!? (Amstcrd. 1713,) 
 decides against them. In his third thesis, " Dejbnnii/is 
 allegandi" he compares the expression, etAdj si.^ji ti y^aipii, 
 with the rabbinical formulae ; and, referring to the Tan- 
 chuma, fol. 39. col. 3. where Deut. xvii. 7. is quoted 
 with the formula, " ad conjirmandum id ijuod scri/itum 
 rst-,'' observes, " fjc cujus loci a/iplicatione /infet itlain 
 
 \'oL. I. Part I. 
 
 yormulani, non solum nlludendi, vrriim rtitim demonstrandi 
 vim habere" that it is not merely allusive, but demon- 
 strative. ((/) 
 
 ACCOMPANIMENT, in Music, a vocal or instru 
 mental accessory, which may consist of an unlimited 
 number of parts, to supply the ncccKsaiy chasms, and to 
 heighten the general eH'cct. Accompaniments must be 
 executed with much skill and delicacy, and in such a 
 manner as to fulfil not only the objei t of the composer, 
 but to admit of the leader givhig the full efl'cct' to the 
 composition; which will otherwise make hut a feeble 
 impression, though in the most skilful hands. Accom- 
 paniments are in no degree susceptiljle of embellish- 
 ment ; a circumstance which is too often overlooked. It 
 is extremely difficult, without a previous knowledge of 
 the composition, in the person accompanying, to treat an 
 accompaniment in a way which is at once judicious and 
 pleasing. It is generally believed, that the accom- 
 paniments of the ancients consisted in nothing more than 
 playing in octave, or hi antiphony, to the voice ; though 
 the Abbe Fraguler has endeavoured to prove, from a 
 passage in Plato, that they had actual symphony, or 
 music in parts, (c) 
 
 ACCOMPLICE, one who is associated with another 
 in the commission of any crime. By a general rule of 
 the Scottish law, the evidence of an accomplice against 
 a criminal is not received, unless in cases of treason, 
 secret crimes, and those particular cases which are ex- 
 cepted by statute. That tlje accomplice may have no 
 motive to give false evidence, he always receives par- 
 don before his evidence is taken. (-;') 
 
 ACCOREES,the name of a deformed tribe of negroes 
 Li Guiana, who live on the upper part of the river Sera- 
 maca. Some of them have only //»vc or/c/io- fingers on 
 each hand, and the same number of toes on each foot; 
 while others have only two fingers and toes, which re- 
 semble the claws of a lobster, or rather limbs cured af- 
 ter mutilation by fire, or any other accident. See Sted- 
 man's Narrative of an Jix/iedition to Surinam, vol. ii. p. 
 265. (ro) 
 
 ACCORDATURA, in Music, is the scale or tuning 
 of the open strings of any instrument. The notes, G, 
 D, A, and F, forni the accordatura of the violin. (7f) 
 
 ACCORSO MARiANGELo,a learned writer, who was 
 born, about the end of the fifteenth century, at Aquila, 
 in the kingdom of Naples. He employed himself in the 
 ineritorious office of rescuing the works of older au- 
 thors from oblivion ; a species of labour which is fre- 
 quently more useful than the composition of new ones. 
 He published a learned work, entitled, " JJiairibx, in 
 Jusonium," Sec. in 1524, which is much esteemed as a 
 specimen of critical skill. The authors whose works he 
 corrected are Ausonius, Ovid, Claudian, and Solinus. 
 In 1 535, he published an edition of Ammiaiuis Marcel- 
 linus, containing five books more than any other edition ; 
 though the first thirteen are still wanting. He was also 
 the original editor of the " Epistles of Cassiodorus," and 
 his "Treatise on the Soul." In 1531, he published a 
 facetious dialogue, in which he ridiculed tlie affected 
 use of antiquated phrases, with which his contempo- 
 raries corrjipted the Latin language. Accorso was ac- 
 cused of having, in his notes upon Ausonius, appro- 
 priated to himself the labours of Fabricius Varano ; but 
 the solemn and determined oath with which he repelled 
 this charge of plagiarism, is a strong proof of his inno- 
 cence, and of the anxious solicitude which he felt about 
 his literary reputation. Accorso was likewise the aii- 
 
 M
 
 <I0 
 
 ACC 
 
 ACC 
 
 ihor of Latin and Italian verses. He was a celebrated 
 linguist ; and he corrected a number of passages in an- 
 'ieiit authors, wliilc he was riding on horseback through 
 (Jcrniany and Poland. He spent thirty-three years in 
 the court of the emperor Charles V. who was much de- 
 lighted with his society, and honoured him with many 
 marks of iiis favour. See JVicolu Top/ii Bibiwth. Katiokt. 
 p. 206. (f) 
 
 ACCOUNTS, Public, (Commissioners of), are five 
 persons appointed by act of parliament " to examine 
 and state, in what manner, and at what thnes, the re- 
 ceipts, issues, and expenditures of the public moneys 
 are accounted for; and to consider and report by what 
 means and methods the public accounts may in future 
 be passed, and the accountants compelled to pay the 
 balances due from them in a more expeditious and less 
 expensive manner." See Act of 25th Geo. IH. cap. 52. 
 
 ACCUSATION, (from accubo, to lie down to,) a 
 posture of the body between sitting and lying. In this 
 posture the Greeks and Romans reclined at table ; a 
 custom which they borrowed from the nations of the 
 East. During the first ages of the republic, the Romans 
 sat at meals; and Homer represents his heroes as sit- 
 ting around the wall, on separate seats, with a small ta- 
 ble before each, on wliich was set his portion of meat and 
 drink. When the custom of reclining was first introdu- 
 ced at Rome, it was adopted only by the men ; but after- 
 wards, when the prevalence of luxury had overcome the 
 sense of delicacy, women also were allowed to recline 
 at table. It was only at supper that they were placed in 
 this indulgent posture. They took their other meals 
 without any formality, either alone or in company, sitting 
 or standing. 
 
 The Romans arranged then>sclves at supper in the 
 following manner : In the csenaculum, or dining-room, 
 three couches were placed around the table ; three per- 
 sons reclining on each couch. They reclined on the 
 left arm, with the head a little raised, and the back sup- 
 ported by cushions. The feel of the first were stretch- 
 ed behind the back of the second, and the feet of the se- 
 cond behind the back of the third. Thus the head of 
 the second was opposite to the breast ef the first, sepa- 
 rated only by a pillow ; and when any of them wished 
 to converse with another, placed higher on the same 
 couch, he was obliged to lean upon his bosom. The 
 middle place was reckoned the most honourable ; but 
 ^vhen a consul happened to be present at an entertain- 
 ment, he occupied the lowest place on the middle couch ; 
 because there he could most conveniently receive 
 and answer messages. Before coming to table, the 
 guests put on the cisnatoria veslis, or dining garment ; 
 and pulled off their slippers, that they might not injure 
 the couches. (/■) 
 
 ACCUSATION, (compounded of ad, to ; and causari, 
 to plead ;) an assertion, imputing to some person a 
 crime, or a fault : in law, a formal declaration, charging 
 §ome person with an act punishable by a judicial sen- 
 tence. "In Rome, where there was no calumniator fiub- 
 licus, no attorney-general, every one was permitted to 
 prosecute crimes that had a public bad tendency ; and, 
 for that reason, are termed public crimes. This was a 
 faulty institution ; because such a privilege given to in- 
 dividuals could not fail to be frequently made the in- 
 strument of venting private ill-will and revenge." 
 Kames's Law Tracts. It is a general rule of British 
 jurisprudence, that accusation Is competent only at the 
 
 suit of tiie Crown, in behalf of the public, or of the pri- 
 vate parlies themselves, wliomay happen to be aggriev- 
 ed. In Scotland, the power of accusation in behalf of 
 the public is committed to the King's Advocate, and to 
 the procurators Ji.icul of such of the inferior courts as 
 possess criminal jurisdiction. Penal actions at the suit 
 of private parties require the concurrence of the publio 
 prosecutor ; but that concurrence cannot be withheld. 
 Indeed it is given as a matter of course. In this de- 
 partment of judicial procedure, the law of England ex- 
 hibits a model of excellence, which has been adopted 
 into the law of Scotland in the case of trials for treason 
 only. The institution of the grand jury is at once ad- 
 mirably calculated for restraining groundless accusations, 
 and for remedying the supineness or connivance of tlic 
 public piosecutors. In general, before a party can be 
 put on his trial, the grand jury of the county musljind 
 a bill against him; that is, must declare, on oath, that 
 the evidence brought before them is sufficient to war- 
 rant a trial. This jury consists of twenty-four free- 
 holders, of whom twenty -three only are sworn in. "To 
 find a bill, there must at least twelve of the jury agree : 
 for, so tender is the law of England of the lives of the 
 subjects, that no man can be convicted at the suit of tlie 
 king, of any capital offence, unless by the unanimous 
 voice of twenty -four of his equals and neighbours; that is, 
 by twelve at tlie least of the grand jury, ill the first place 
 assenting to the accusation; and afterwards by tlie 
 whole petit jury, of twelve more, finding him guilty 
 upon his trial." (/J/ffrA-«/one'« Commcntaries,hook\\ . c. 23.) 
 Prosecutions for crimes, not capital, may be commenced 
 without the previous authority of the grand jury, by way 
 oi information, in the name of the king. These are of 
 two kinds ; first, those which are properly the king's 
 own suits, and filed ex officio by the attorney-general ; 
 " secondly, tliose in which, though the king is the no- 
 minal prosecutor, yet it is at the relation of some pri- 
 vate person, or common informer," (Blackstone) ; but 
 it is provided, by slat. 4th and 5th of VVilli^iand Mary, 
 c. 18. that no information shall be filed witTiout express 
 direction from the Court of King's Bench. Appeal at 
 the suit of private parties, a form now almost in desue- 
 tude, is another mode of accusation not requiring the 
 sanction of a grand jury. It is competent, in cases of 
 larceny, rape, arson (fire raising) and mayhem (maiming) 
 to the party injured ; and, in cases of murder, to tlie 
 near relations of the defiuict. Impeachment by the com- 
 mons of Great Britain in Parliament assembled, is an- 
 other form by which persons suspected of high crimes 
 and misdemeanoiu's are brought to trial. — Whatever be 
 the form of the accusation, the mild spirit of British 
 justice presumes the party accused to be innocent, till 
 he is actually convicted. Yet the rigour with which 
 prisoners are confined is frequently much greater tharv 
 the purpose of sure custody seems to require. In gene- 
 ral, it may be remarked, that the use of irons, as a securi- 
 ty against escape from prison, is precisely a substitution 
 of a cheap but inhuman mode of restraint, for the pro- 
 per degree of strength in the structure, or for the pro- 
 per number of guards. Were prisons properly con- 
 structed and guarded, there would be no necessity for 
 punishing, with irons, persons whom, till conviction, the 
 law holds to be innocent. But a practice, still more ad- 
 verse to this legal presumption, prevails in England. 
 Prisoners in irons are brought into court, and placed at 
 the bar ; though it must be obvious, that, in the very 
 face of the highest power which the taw exerts, and in
 
 ACE 
 
 ACE 
 
 91 
 
 the midst of a crowded assembly, tlierc can be no risk 
 of escape. In still another i-espcct, the innocence of the 
 party accused, even when it no longer rests upon pre- 
 sumption, but is ascertained by acquittal, is not followed 
 by, what ought to be a consequence of acquittal, indem- 
 nihcation for the loss and expense which the party has 
 incurred. While a party, who has been successful in a 
 civil action, obtains indemnitication for the sums which 
 he has expended in maintaining his right, it seems some- 
 what inconsistent that a party in a crhninal action should 
 receive no indemnification for the sums which he has 
 expended in defence of his character, liberty, and life. 
 That criminal prosecutions arc carried on for the benefit 
 of the /lublic, is no sufficient answer. When the interest 
 of an individual suffers any detriment for the benefit of 
 the community, reparation ought always to be made. 
 Indeed, when firojierty is taken from an individual, for 
 any public purpose, such as a high road or a canal, the 
 person so deprived always receives an equivalent ; and 
 why ought not this principle of compensation to be ex- 
 tended to him who, in the course of public justice, has 
 been erroneously subjected to a temporary loss of li- 
 berty, most probably to an irretrievable loss of health 
 and character ; and, what is worse, to those tempta- 
 tions which extreme indigence, and loss of reputation, 
 render almost irresistible ? In matters of this kind, 
 that is a very narrow policy which would lay much stress 
 on the exjxense oi doing justice. Justice is, in all cases, 
 true policy, (a) 
 
 ACCUSATIVE, the fourth case of Latin nouns, 
 which, like the dative case, denotes the apposition or 
 the junction of one thing to another. This apposition 
 may take place either in consequence of previous mo- 
 tion, or without it; and hence we see tlie reason why 
 the accusative case is put after an active verb ; for the 
 action is supposed to proceed from the agent to the 
 thing acted upon. A different account of this case 
 hasT)een given by Mr Harris in his Hermes, p 283. See 
 Grammar, (to) 
 
 ACEiVIELLA, or Acmella, the name of seeds 
 from the island of Ceylon, which were celebrated for 
 their faculty of dissolving stones. Tliey were suc- 
 cessfully used in that island for dissolving calculi, and 
 curing nephritic disorders. See Phil. Trans. 1700-1 
 vol. xxii. p. 760. (to) 
 
 ACEPHALA, in zoology, the name of the third fa- 
 mily of mollusca, in the arrangement of Cuvier. See 
 Helminthologv. (/) 
 
 ACEPHALI, from aK£(J)«A«5, without a head, a name 
 which has been given to various sects in the Christian 
 church, from the supposed circumstance of their being- 
 subject to no head or leader. This appellation seems 
 to have been first given to those who refused to adhere 
 to John of Antioch, or St Cyril of Alexandria, after 
 their contest with the Council of Ephesus in 431. It 
 was afterwards applied to such of the followers of Peter 
 Mongus, who in 482 deserted him, when he subscribed 
 to the decrees of the council of Chalcedon. The Ace- 
 phali were generally Eutychians, and were divided into 
 the C'lrrufiticols, tlie IncorrufiticoU, the Agnoetx, and 
 the Tritheitx. The Corrupticolse, who were the adhe- 
 rents of Severus of Antioch, maintained that our Savi- 
 our's body was corruptible before its resurrection ; 
 while the Incorrupticolae held the opposite opinion. 
 The Agnoctae believed that our Saviour was ignorant of 
 some things ; and the Tritheita; maintained, that there 
 were three distinct natures in the Trinity, (to) 
 
 ACEPHALI, a name given to the levellers in the 
 reign of Henry I. who acknowledged no superior. Le- 
 ges. H. 1. (to) 
 
 ACEPHALOUS, a term applied to certain nations, 
 whom the credulity of both ancient and modern travel- 
 lers has represented as without heads, the organs of 
 sensation being in other pans of their body. It would 
 be an insult upon the understandiiig of our readers, 
 were we to attempt a refutation of such extravagant 
 opinions, or even to amuse them by reciting the fancies 
 of ignorant voyagers. See Abyssinia, p. 33. col. 2. and 
 De Laet. Dcscrijit. Americ. lib. xvii. cap. 22. 
 
 Among the number of monstrous births which physi- 
 cians have observed, there have been several instances 
 of individuals being born without heads. See Phil. 
 Trans, vol. Ixv. p. 311. (w) 
 
 ACER, the maple-tree, a genus of plants belonging 
 to the class Polygamia and order Moncecia. See Bota- 
 ny, (to) 
 
 ACERENZA, or Cirenza, anciently Acheruntia, a 
 city of Naples, situated on the river Brandano, in the 
 Basilicata. It is the see of an archbishop. Population 
 5000. E. Long. 15° 58'. N. Lnt. 40° 48'. (w) 
 
 ACERRA, in antiquity, a kind of altar erected by the 
 Romans in honour of a person deceased ; on which in- 
 cense was daily burned till the time of his burial. A 
 similar custom prevails among the Chinese. In a room 
 hung round with mourning, they raise an altar, on which 
 is placed an image of the deceased, and every one who 
 approaches it, bows four times, and offers gifts and per- 
 fumes. The erection of accrrae was prohibited by the 
 laws of the twelve tables. 
 
 Acerra was likewise used as synonymous with Ihii- 
 ribulum and /lyjcis, to signify the small pot or censer, 
 which contained the incense and perfumes that were 
 burnt on the altars of the gods. Votaries offered differ- 
 ent quantities of incense, according to their rank and 
 opulence ; hence the rich were said to sacrifice /ilena 
 acerra, pouring out their incense, trom full censers on 
 the altar; while the poor, who used no censers, pre- 
 sented their humble offerings with their fingers. Cen- 
 sers arc mentioned in scripture ; they were used by the 
 ancient church ; and are still retained by the Romanists 
 under the name of incense pots, (k) 
 
 ACESINES, the ancient name of a river in India, on 
 tlie banks of which Alexander built a city under the di- 
 rection of Hcphestion. It is supposed by some to be the 
 river now called Rauvee ; but it is the opinion of major 
 Rennel, that the river Jenaub is the Acesines mention- 
 ed in ancient history. See Arrian De Exiiedit. Alcxand. 
 lib. v., and Strabo, Greg. vol. ii. 1014 (to) 
 
 ACETABULUM, from acetu7n, vinegar, and tabula, 
 a table, the name of a little vessel employed by the an- 
 cients for holding vinegar when broiight to table. It is 
 also the name of a liquid and dry Roman measure, which 
 is supposed by Agricola to be equal to 15 drachms; 
 but which Du Pinet makes equal to two ounces, and a 
 little more, when it measured oil and wine, and three 
 ounces, when it measured honey. The same term is 
 employed in anatomy lo denote the large cavity in a 
 bone, in which the round head of another bone is lodg- 
 ed, for the purpose of having a free motion in every di- 
 rection. The word acelabula was likewise applied to 
 the cups in the exhibition of cups and balls by jugglei's. 
 See Bcckmann's Hist, of Inventions, vol. iii. p. 300. (w) 
 
 ACETATES, or Acetites, are salts fomied by the 
 combination of acetic acid with alkaline and earthy 
 M 2
 
 9^ 
 
 VCH 
 
 ACM 
 
 bases. See Murray's C/iemisiry, \ol. iv. p. 471.; and 
 Phil. Magazine, vol. xxiii. p. 12.; see also Chkmisthy. 
 {nv) 
 
 ACETIC Acid, or rachcaWincgar; one oi the vege- 
 table acitls existing- generally in the sap oi vegetables. 
 It is however more properly the produce ot fermenta- 
 tion. Sec Chemistry, (jiu) 
 
 ACETOUS Acid, or distilled vinegar, was former- 
 ly supposed to diH'er from acetic acia only in tlie degree 
 of oxygcnizement, the latter being oxygenized to a 
 maximum ; but it is now found to differ only in the de- 
 gree of dilution. See Chemistry, (w) 
 
 ACHtEANS, the inhabitants of Achaia Profiria, so 
 called from Achaeus, the son of Xutiius, king of Thcs- 
 saly, who, when banished from tiiat knigdom, had settled 
 in Athens. Achaeus afterwards recovered possession of 
 Thessaly ; but having committed the crime of man- 
 slaughter, was obliged to fly to Laconia, a province of 
 Peloponnesus, where he died, and where his posterity 
 remained under the appellation of Achxans, till they 
 were expelled by the Uores and fleraclidse. They 
 then laid claim to Aci.aia ; and having driven out the 
 lonians, took possession ol the country, under the con- 
 duct of their brave king Tisamenes, the son of Orestes. 
 The kingdom consisted, as during the time of the 
 lonians, chiefly of twelve cities, which were divided be- 
 tween the four sons of Tisamenes, who, with their cou- 
 sin, a grandson of Orestes, for some time jointly reign- 
 ed over this new Achaean state. At length the torm of 
 government was changed and a mixed democracy es- 
 tablished. Their territory was not extensive, nor their 
 revenues large; but the inhabitants, though without 
 commerce, or greater industry than was necessary to pro- 
 cure subsistence, were governed by wise and equal 
 laws. Thus united, thyr cities or states formed only 
 one body ; and few causes of envy or objects of ambi- 
 tion existing among them, political harmony pervaded 
 every class of the citizens. So celebrated were their 
 magistrates for probity, justice, and love of liberty, that 
 Ihey were at one time. the common arbitrators of the 
 Italian Greeks. After the battle of Leuctra, they were 
 chosen umpires in the dispute between the Lacedaemo- 
 nians and the Thebans, who respectively claimed the 
 victory, and their decision was submitted to as impartial 
 and just. They retained their liberty and republican 
 formof government, till the time of Alexander the Great ; 
 after whose death, they became a prey to political dis- 
 cord, and were oppressed and enslaved, sometimes by 
 the Macedonian kings, and sometimes by tyrants of their 
 own. Each town attentive to its own interest only, be- 
 gan to separate from the rest ; mutual jealousies ensued ; 
 and the common cause of liberty completely languish- 
 ed. But the invasion of Italy by Pyrrhus about the 125th 
 Olympiad, B. C. 280, again united the Achseans, and 
 led them not only to revive their ancient league, but to 
 extend its influence, by receiving other states into the 
 union, till at length it embraced the whole of Greece, 
 except the territory of the Lacedaemonians. By the 
 Achaean league, all the cities subject to it were govern- 
 ed by a great council or general assembly, consisting 
 of a certain number of deputies from each of them, elect- 
 ed by a plurality of votes. It was convened ordinarily 
 twice a year, for the purpose of enacting laws, filling 
 vacancies in the magistracy, declaring war, concluding 
 peace, or forming alliances ; and its decisions were 
 binding on all the members of the confederacy. This 
 assembly had at firsttwo presidents, or chief magistrates, 
 
 iioininaiud alteriiutely by the different states; but tliey 
 Soon elected only one, who presided in the council, aud 
 commanded the army. They and the other magistrates 
 continued in office two years successively ; and the pre- 
 sident, called Ktrati-gon by the Greeks, and firator by 
 the Latins, was responsible to the general assembly. 
 The demiurgi, ten in number, next in authority to the 
 praetor, were chosen by the assenibly, apiiointed to act 
 as the privy council ol the praetor, and had the power, 
 on some extraordinary occasions, of summoning the 
 general assembly. Such was the fundamental constitu- 
 tion of the Achaean confederacy. But their peace and 
 prosperity were not of long continuance. Tne rivalry 
 and power of the Lacedaenionian.. first reduced them to 
 the necessity of applying for assistance to the sovereigns 
 of Macedon ; and being afterwards overpowered by the 
 jEtolians, they formed an alliance with Philip, who hav- 
 ing successfully supported them against their enemies, 
 re-established their tranquillity, by procurmg a general 
 peace. Refusing, however, to aid his ambitious pro- 
 jects, Philip soon changed his conduct towards them, 
 and even poisoned Aratus, whilst he was praetor for the 
 seventeenth time. Under the presidency of Philopce- 
 men, during the war between Philip and the Romans, 
 about 200 years B. C. the Achseans entered into an al- 
 liance with the latter, and at the conclusion of the war, 
 were put in possession of Corinth, delivered from every 
 kind of servitude, and again permitted to govern them- 
 selves by their own laws. In the year B. C. 191, the 
 powerful city of Lacedaemon was added by conquest to 
 the Achaean commonwealth, by which means the Achse- 
 ans eclipsed all the other states of Greece. But inter- 
 nal disputes about the place of holding their general 
 assemblies, and the turbulent spirit of the Lacedaemo- 
 nians, soon interrupted their tranquillity. The Achaean 
 league was at this time courted by almost all the Eastern 
 nations : its ancient alliances were renewed ; and its in- 
 creasing power became an object of jealousy to the Ro- 
 mans. The death of Philopoemen, who was poisoned by 
 the Messenians, after they had defeated him, and taken 
 him prisoner, gave a blow to the interest of his countiy, 
 from which it never completely recovered. The Achjean 
 confederacy becamf feeble by being disunited ; and in 
 the year before Christ 147, the Romans, who had some 
 time before interfered with its internal policv, decreed, 
 that a great number of the confederate cities should be 
 separated from the general alliance, and in future be 
 governed by their own laws. This, indeed, roused their 
 indignation, and gave a new spring to their exertions ; 
 but their struggle in the war with the Romans which 
 succeeded, was ineffectual. No longer directed by wise 
 magistrates, or skilful commanders, their spirit of re- 
 venge, though ungovernable and savage, could be of no 
 avail against the military talents of the Romans. Ac- 
 cordingly in 146 B. C. Mummius, the Roman general, 
 arrived in Greece, defeated the Achaeans, plundered Co- 
 rinth of its rich spoils, and then reduced it to ashes ; 
 under the ruins of which, the Achxan league seems to 
 have been buried. It was soon after dissolved, and 
 Greece reduced to a Roman province under the name of 
 Achaia, which paid an annual tribute to Rome, and was 
 governed like the other conquered provinces of the 
 empire. During the reign of Nero, it was restored to 
 its ancient liberty ; but it was afterwards reduced to its 
 former state of subjection by Vespasian. Its privileges 
 were in some degree enlarged by Nerva, though it was 
 still governed by a Roman prxior ; and in this state it
 
 ACH 
 
 ACIl 
 
 93 
 
 reniaiiietl till the time ol Constantino the Great, who, in 
 his new division oi the Roman pioviiuu-s, snbjeetcd it to 
 the praefect of Ihyricum. Sec .</«cir«i Univ. Hist. vo!. 
 vi. p. 44. Jusliii, lib. 31-. cap. 1. anil Momhly licvkw, 
 vol. Ixxi. p. 531. 
 
 ACH/l!".US, son of Andromachus, and cousin of Sc- 
 leucus Cci-annus, whom he suppoiied by his ubiliiics 
 on the throne of Syria, was, on the deatb of Seleucus, 
 oft'ered the crown by the army, and several of the pro- 
 vinces, lie magnanimously declined the ofier, and 
 vindicated the claims of Antiocluis, brother to the de- 
 ceased king, who was then ui his I5th year, and who 
 was afterwards surnamed the Great. Acha;us, being 
 invested with the government of Asia Minor, recovered 
 all the countries in Asia which had been seized by At- 
 tains, king of Pergamus,and annexed them to the crown 
 of Syria. His prosperity excited tiie envy of the cour- 
 tiers, who persuaded the king that he aspired to the 
 throne. Seeing that his destruction was determined, 
 Achaeus thought proper to anticipate the malice of his 
 enemies ; he ordered himself to be proclaimed king at 
 Laodicea, and soon became one of the most powerful 
 monarchs of Asia. Antiochus at length took the field 
 against him, and having taken the city of Sardis, shut 
 him up in the castle. Achasus was betrayed into the 
 hands oi the Syrian monarch, who, forgetting his obli- 
 gations to the man who had conferred on him the crown, 
 ordered him instantly to be beheaded ; his limbs were 
 cut oil', his body sewed in the skin of an ass, and ex- 
 posed on a gibbet. See Polyhiu.'i, lib. viii. p. 528. {k) 
 
 ACHAIA, properly that narrow district of Pelopon- 
 nesus which extended westward along the bay of Co- 
 rinth, and is now called Romania ALla. By the early 
 writers, and particularly by the poets, all Greece was 
 sometimes included under the name Achaia. In the 
 times of the Roman state, the name of Achaia was ap- 
 plied not only to the whole of the Peloponnesus, but 
 likewise to those cities, beyond the isthmus, which had 
 entered into the Achsean league. After the dissolution 
 of that league, Greece was divided, by a decree of the 
 Roman senate, into two provinces, viz. that of Macedo- 
 nia, containing also Thcssaly; and that of Achaia, in- 
 cluding all the other states of Greece. See Gibbon's 
 Hist. chap. 1. vol. i. p. 33. 
 
 ACHAIUS, or Achayus, the son of king Ethwin, 
 succeeded to the crown of Scotland in 788, upon the 
 death of Solilatius. Having lived familiarly with the 
 nobles before his accession to the throne, he was well 
 acquainted with the sources of their mutual animosi- 
 ties, with which the kingdom was so frctiuently agitated. 
 It was, therefore, the first act of his reign, to reconcile 
 the nobles, and check the turbulent spirit which their 
 animosities had engendered. No sooner had he suc- 
 ceeded in uniting the hearts of his subjects, than the 
 tranquillity of the nation was disturbed by an aggres- 
 sion of the Irish. A number of banditti, from Ireland, 
 who infested the district of Cantirc, in the west Scot- 
 land, having been completely routed by the inhabitants, 
 the Irish nation was highly exasperated, and resolved 
 to revenge the injury. Achaius despatched an ambas- 
 sador to soften their rage, but before he had time to 
 return from his fruitless mission, an immense number 
 of Irish plundered and laid waste the island of Isla. 
 These depredators were all drowned when returning 
 home with their spoil ; and stich was the terror which 
 this calamity inspired into the Irish, that they imme- 
 diately sued for peace, which vras generously granted 
 
 to them by the king of Scotland. A short lime after 
 the conclusion of this treaty, tlie emperor Ciiarlemagne 
 sent an ambassador to Achaius, re(|uesting him to enter 
 into a strict alliance with him against the English, who, 
 in tlie janguage of the envoy, " shunufully lilled both 
 sea and land with their piracies, and bloody invasions." 
 Alter much hesitation and debate among the king's 
 counsellors, the alliance was tmanimously agreed to, 
 and Achaius sent his brother William, along with Cle- 
 ment, John Scotus, Raban, and Alcuin, four of the most 
 learned men in Scotland, together with an army of 4000 
 men, to acconqiany the French ambassador to Paris, 
 where the alliance was concluded, on terms very favour- 
 able to the Scots. In order to perpetuate the remem- 
 brance of this event, Achaius added to the arms of Scot- 
 land, a doulde field sowed with lilies. After assisting 
 Hungus, king of the Picts, to repel an aggression of 
 Athelstane, king of the West Saxons, Achaius spent 
 the rest of his reign in complete tranqviillity, and died 
 in 819, distinguished for his piety and wisdom. See 
 LksIcus Origin, dc <-t Aiur. Scotoruni, p. 173 — 178 ; Boe- 
 thius Hist. Scotorum. lib. x. 184 — 191; and Mezeray 
 Abrege de V Hist, de la France, tom. i. p. 242. (w) 
 
 ACHANIA, a genus of plants of the class Monadel- 
 phia and order Polyandria. See Botany, (to) 
 
 ACHEEN, or AcHEN, called likewise Ac/ie, from a 
 tree of that name which is peculiar to it, is a kingdom in 
 the north-west of Sumatra, and is the only part of that 
 island which ever rose to such importance as to become 
 the subject of history. It is of small extent, stretching 
 about 50 miles inland, and little more even on the coast, 
 containing about 2600 square miles. Its climate, com- 
 pared with that of the rest of the island, is hea.lthy ; as it 
 has fewer swamps and woods. The soil is very fertile, 
 producing, besides delicious fruits, abundance of rice and 
 cotton, and a little raw silk of inferior quality. Gold dust 
 
 is found in the mountains, and sulphur is procured in con- 
 
 sideralj 
 
 capital. 
 
 sideraljle quantities from a volcano in 
 
 IS proru 
 the vici 
 
 nity of tlic 
 
 On a liver flowing into the sea near the nortli-west 
 point, which is called Acluen-lwad, is situated the ca- 
 pital, about two miles from the coast. When the Por- 
 tuguese first landed on the island, about the beginning 
 of the 16th century, it was underthe dominion of the king 
 of Pedir, and commanded by a slave as governor ; one of 
 these slaves rebelled against the king, and established 
 Acheen as the metropolis of his kingdom. The valley 
 in which it stands is surrounded, in the form of an am- 
 phitheatre, by two lofty ranges of hills ; and the town 
 itself rises in the middle of a forest of cocoa-trees. Ac- 
 cording to Chantreaux, it is situated in Long. 95° 35' 
 East, and Lat. 5° 10' North. It contains about 800 
 houses, which are built of bamboos and rough timber, 
 and raised to the height of some feet from the ground ; 
 for in the rainy season the whole country is overflowed. 
 Neither wall nor moat surrounds the town ; but the king's 
 palace, a rude and uncouth edifice, which stands in the 
 centre, and is about a mile and half in circumference, is 
 encompassed by strong walls, and a moat 25 feet deep. 
 Near the palace-gate are several pieces of brass ordnance, 
 of prodigious size. Some of these vere made in Portu- 
 gal ; two of them were sent to the king of Acheen, by 
 James I. of England, and their dale and founder's name 
 are still visible : the bore of one of them is 18 inches, of 
 the other 22 inches in diameter. Besides the native' 
 Achenese, this town is inhabited by Dutch, Danes, Por- 
 tuguese, Guzarats, w.A Chinese ; the latter of whoip are
 
 94 
 
 ACH 
 
 ACH 
 
 most numerous, and carry on a considerable trade. The 
 inhabitants have an extensive manufacture of thick cotton 
 cloth, and of slufl' for trowscrs, worn by the Malays and 
 Achenese. Tliey weave likewise very handsome silks 
 of a particular make ; though this manufacture is now on 
 the decline, owing to the degeneracy of the silk-worms. 
 The Achenese are bold and expert navigators ; and carry 
 on an extensive trade with the district of Telinga, on 
 the coast of Hindostan. The articles which they ex- 
 port, are gold-dust, Japan-wood, betel-nut, patch-leaf, or 
 cos/iis indicus, pepper, sulphur, camphor, and benzoin ; in 
 return for which, they receive the cotton goods of India. 
 They are supplied by the European traders, with Bengal 
 opium, iron, and various other commodities. 
 
 The Achenese difler considerably from the rest of the 
 Sumatrans. In person, they are taller, stouter, and of 
 darker complexion ; in disposition, they are more active 
 and industrious, more sagacious and penetrating. They 
 profess the Mahometan religion : their mosques and 
 priests are numerous ; and they adhere with rigid exact- 
 ness to the forms and ceremonies prescribed in the Alco- 
 ran. Their government is a hereditary monarchy, which 
 is more or less arbitrary, according to the talents and 
 disposition of the reigning prince, whom they call Tuan- 
 kita, or my master. His council consists of four no- 
 blemen, called Ooloobaggans, with eight of inferior or- 
 der, who sit on the right hand of the throne ; and six- 
 teen, named Cajoorangs, who are seated on tlie left. A 
 woman sits at the feet of the king, to whom he com- 
 municates whatever ideas occur to him during the deli- 
 beration ; she conveys them to an eunuch near her, by 
 whom they are transmitted to an officer, who proclaims 
 them aloud to the whole assembly. The throne was for- 
 merly made of ivory, and tortoise-shell ; and when queens 
 reigned, a curtain of gauze was drawn round it to ( onceal 
 them from view. Strangers or merchants obtain an au- 
 dience by ofrejirig presents to the king and his officers. 
 An European, before entering the royal palace, is obliged 
 to take off his shoes. A stranger, after being introduced, 
 is sumptuously entertained in a separate building, and re- 
 turns in the evening-, attended by a number of people with 
 lighted torches in their hands. On high days, the king, 
 mounted on an elephant richly caparisoned, proceeds in 
 state to the great mosque, preceded by officers armed 
 after the fashion of Europeans. The laws of Acheen are 
 extremely severe. Petty theft is punished by suspending 
 the criminal from a tree, or cutting off a finger, hand, or 
 leg, according to tlie nature of the crime. Robbers and 
 housebreakers are punished by drowning, and their bo- 
 dies are exposed for some davs on a stake. If an imaum, 
 or priest, be robbt-d, the sacrilegious offender is burned 
 alive. Adultery is punished in a very singular manner. 
 The criminal is delivered up to the injured husband and 
 his relations, who form a circle round him. A large wea- 
 pon is then presented to him by one of his own friends, 
 and, if he can cut his way through the circle, he is free 
 from all farther prosecution ; but if he fall by the swords 
 of his adversaries, as generally happens, he is refused the 
 usual rites of sepulture. Yet these sanguinary laws only 
 indicate the weakness of government, and the general 
 depravity of the people ; evils which they tend rather to 
 increase, than to correct. Where crimes of every des- 
 cription are punished with indiscriminating severity, the 
 people, familiarized with the sight of torture and death, 
 become hardened in initinity. Japan and Acheen afford 
 striking proofs of the incfficacy of rigorous institutions, 
 in improving the public morals. No where are the penal- 
 
 ties of guilt more dreadful ; yet no where are tlie people 
 more flagitious, (k) 
 
 ACHETA, in the Linnxan System, the third species 
 of the genus Gryllus, or Cricket. See Estomologv. 
 
 ACHERNER, a star of the first magnitude in the 
 constellation Ericlanus. See Eridanus. 
 
 ACHILLEA, a genus of plants of the class Synge- 
 nesia, and order Polygamia Supcrflua. See Botany, (to) 
 
 ACHILLEID, the name of a poem written by Statins, 
 in which he gives an account only of the inlancy and 
 education of Achilles, having died before he completed 
 the poem. Scaliger considers Slalius as superior to the 
 most celebrated poets ol Greece and Rome, (to) 
 
 ACHILLES, the son of Peleus and Thetis, said to 
 have been born at Phthia, in Thessaly, was one of the 
 most celebrated heroes ol Greece. His history is so in- 
 volved in fable, and sucli contradictory accounts are 
 given of it by ancient authors, that no accurate informa- 
 tion concerning him can be obtained. To render him 
 invulnerable, his mother, it is said, dipped his whole body, 
 except the heel, by which she held him, in the river Styx. 
 Homer, however, does not seem to have known or believ- 
 ed this; for 'in the Iliad (lib. xxi. 161.) he mentions Achil- 
 les as being wounded in the right arm by the lance of 
 AsteropsEus. Nor is it agreed, whether Chiron, the cen- 
 taur, or Phoenix, was his first preceptor, under whom he 
 was instructed in horsemanship and the use of arms ; and 
 by whom he was fed with honey, and the fat of lions and 
 wild boars, to fit him for enduring martial toil. Thetis, 
 being warned by an oracle that her son would be slain at 
 Troy, endeavoured to conceal him in female apparel at the 
 court of Lycomedes, to prevent him from engaging in the 
 Trojan war ; but Ulysses, having discovered him persua- 
 ded him to follow the Greeks. During his concealment, 
 he is said to have fallen in love with one of Lycomedes's 
 daughters, and Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, was the result 
 of this amour. At the siege of Troy, he distinguished 
 himself by the most splendid and heroic achievements; 
 but being enraged at the conduct of Agamemnon, in de- 
 priving him of Briseis, he retired in disgust from the 
 camp. Every attempt to rouse him from his inactivity, 
 so dangerous to the Greeks, proved ineffectual, till the 
 deadi of his friend Patroclus awakened his indignation, 
 and desire of revenge. Nothing now could restrain his 
 impetuosity : he slew Hector; fastened his corpse to his 
 chariot, and dragged it thrice round the walls of Troy. 
 But, whilst in the temple treating about his marriage 
 with Philoxena, the daughter of Priam, he was wounded 
 in the heel with an arrow by Paris. The wound 
 proved speedily fatal, and he was interred in the pro- 
 montory of Siga;um. After the capture of Troy, the 
 Greeks sacrificed Philoxena on his tomb, in obedience 
 to his re(|uest, that he might enjoy her company in the 
 Elysian fields, where he is said also to have married 
 Medea. When Alexander saw this tomb, it is said he 
 honoured it by placing a crown upon it, exclaiming, at 
 the same time, that " Achilles was happy in having, 
 during his life, a friend like Patroclus, and after his 
 death, a poet like Homer." Achilles is supposed to have 
 died about 11 84 years before the Christian era. Homer 
 has been blamed, and we imagine not without justice, 
 for making his hero Achilles of too ferocious and unamia- 
 ble a character. Dr Blair has, indeed, attempted to repel 
 this charge ; tnit though it were admitted, that the hero 
 of the Iliad is not destitute of candour, justice, and affec- 
 tion, that spirit of insatiable revenge, which the poet has
 
 ACII 
 
 ACH 
 
 95 
 
 so inimitably described, as his ruling passion, must for 
 ever tarnish the lustre of his cliaraeter, and, were it pos- 
 sible, even diniinisli his reputation f(M' warlike bravery. 
 His resentment against Agamemnon, however justifia- 
 ble at its commencement, was prolonjyed till it had al- 
 most ruined the cause in which he had engaged ; and 
 nothing- but his thirst of revenging the death of Patro- 
 clus, saved his countrymen from destruction and dis- 
 grace. His courage was ferocity itself; and his conduct 
 to Hector w:is more like that of a tiger than of a man. 
 (See Iliad, lib. xxii. 345, kc.) This is the character g;iven 
 hini by Horace Dc Arte Foil. v. 121. 
 
 Impiger, iracuiidus, liiexorabilis, acer, 
 
 Jura iieget sibi iiata, nihil iion arroget armis. (</) 
 
 ACHILLINI, Alexander, a celebrated philosopher 
 and physician, who is said to have discovered the mal- 
 leus awdincus, two bones in the ear, which convey from 
 the tympanum to the vestibule the impressions which 
 are made upon the external organ. He was born at Bo- 
 logna on the 29th October, 1463 ; and made such rapid 
 progress in his studies, that, in 1485, he was appointed 
 a professor of philosophy in the imiversity of his native 
 city. The fame of his learning and genius having ex- 
 tended over the whole of Italy, he accepted, in 1506, of 
 an invitation from the university of Padua to fill the first 
 chair of philosophy, and was afterwards, in 1508, ap- 
 pointed professor of the theory of medicine. The re- 
 putation which he had obtained drew immense crowds 
 of students to Padua, and excited the jealousy of Pom- 
 ponaccio, his colleague and rival. In the public dis- 
 putations, the eloquence and arguments of Achillini were 
 opposed by the raillery and wit of his rival ; but ridicule 
 was found a contemptible weapon, when wielded against 
 the acuteness of solid argument, and Achilluii triumphed 
 over the disappointed ambition and personal malice of his 
 antagonist. The war, which at this time raged between 
 the Venetians and the league of Cambray, put a stop to 
 the proceedings of the university of Padua, in 1509, and 
 obliged Achillini to retire to Bologna, where he was ap- 
 pointed to the chair in the university which he had be- 
 fore filled. Achillini died at Bologna on the 2d August, 
 1512, and was interred with great pomp in a church be- 
 longing to the Carmelite Friars. From the extent of his 
 learning, he obtained the name of the Great Philosopher, 
 and was remarkable for the honest simplicity and sin- 
 cerity of his manners. He was the follower and inter- 
 preter of Averroes, the commentator of Aristotle, and 
 defended the tenets of his master with o.n acuteness and 
 strength of argument which were universally admired. 
 Achillini was the author of many works ; but the list is 
 too long and uninteresting to be inserted here. See 
 Mazzuchelli Scrittorid' Italia, vol. i. p. 100. Qiv) 
 
 ACHIMENES, a genus of plants of the class Didy- 
 namia, and order Angiospcrmia. See Botany, {w) 
 
 ACHLYS, from a^Au? dark7ie>is, a term in medicine, 
 which signifies dimness of sight, or blindness arising 
 ffom opacity of the cornea. It is likewise employed to 
 signify a small blue speck over the cornea. See Cullen's 
 JVosoloi^y, and Wardrop's Essays un the Morbid Anatomy 
 of the Human Eye, 1808. 
 
 The same word was employed by the ancient Greek 
 writers, to signify the first cause which preceded the 
 creation of the world, of the gods, and of chaos, (w) 
 
 ACHMET I. emperor of the Turks, the successor 
 and third son of Mahomet III. ascended the throne in 
 1603, vhen he was about fifteen years old. The em- 
 
 pire experienced much vicissitude of fortune during liis 
 reign. Tiiough capable of forming bold and extensive 
 plans, he warned steadiness to execute them; and was 
 so devoted to sensual pleasures and field sports, as to 
 neglect, in a great measure, those military preparations, 
 which the state of the kingdom required. The Asiatic 
 rebels, supported by the Persians, besieged and took 
 the city of Bagdad, to recover which, all his efforts 
 were ineffectual. In Ti-ansylvania and Hungary, though 
 assisted by the famous Bcthlem Gabor, aiul Potskay, 
 the success of the Turks against the Germans was not 
 much greater: yet a peace was at length concluded be- 
 tween him and the emperor, without any material dis- 
 advantage to either. Peace was likewise restored with 
 the Persians before his death; but his reign continued 
 to be disturbed by Insurrections, and his personal safety- 
 was endangered by a pretender to his throne, and seve- 
 ral attempts upon his life. His seraglio consisted of 
 3000 women; and he kept 40,000 falconers, and almost 
 as many huntsmen, in various parts of the country. He 
 expended large sums in building, particularly on a mag- 
 nificent mosque in the Hippodi'ome. Though ignorant, 
 proud, and ambitious, he was less cruel than many of his 
 predecessors : and though naturally of a strong constitu- 
 tion, he died at the age of twenty-nine. His three sons 
 successively reigned after him. (rf) 
 
 ACHMET II. emperor of the Turks, was the son of 
 sultan Ibrahim, and succeeded his brother Solyman in 
 1691. Durhig his reign, the administration of govern- 
 ment was feeble, and the wars of the empire were con- 
 ducted with little vigour or success. The Germans, the 
 Venetians, and the Arabs, made considerable encroach- 
 ments on the limits of the empire, which he never was 
 able to repel. His character in private life was amiable 
 and inoffensive, and his conduct in civil affairs lionourable 
 and just; but as a sovereign, he was destitute of the ta- 
 lents which are necessary for the government of a power- 
 ful and extensive empire. He had some taste for poetry 
 and music, and was universally esteemed and beloved as 
 a man. He died iji 1695, at the age of fifty, (rf) 
 
 ACHMET HI. emperor of the Turks, son of Maho- 
 met IV. on the deposition of his brother, Mustapha II. 
 in 1703, ascended the imperial throne. After subduing 
 the insurrections which had for some years weakened 
 the government, his great object was to amass wealth; 
 and with this view, he debased the coin, and imposed 
 new taxes. He gave protection to Charles XII. of Swe- 
 den, who took refuge In his dominions after the battle 
 of Pultowa; received him with great hospitality ; and at 
 the instigationof the sultana mother, declared war against 
 the Russians ; which was soon terminated by the ad- 
 vantageous peace of Pruth. He likewise made war on 
 the Venetians, and recovered the Morea from them ; but 
 in an attack on Hungary, his army was defeated by prince 
 Eugene in 1716 at the battle of Peterwardin. By sub- 
 mitting implicitly to the influence of his ministers and 
 favourites, he lost the confidence of the people, and tar- 
 nished the glory of his otherwise splendid but short 
 reign. In 1730, he was driven from his throne by the 
 sedition and rebellion of his soldiers. After his de- 
 thronement, he was confined in the same apartment 
 which had been occupied by his successor Mahomet V. 
 and continued there till he was cut offby an apoplexy, at 
 the age of 74, in the year 1736. (c/) 
 
 ACHMIM, or Ec HMiM, a considerable town in Upper 
 Egypt, situated on the eastern bank of the Nile. It was 
 called by the ancients Chemnus. or Chcmtno, and Panq-
 
 96 
 
 ACII 
 
 ACIl 
 
 Jitis: its Coptic name is Smin. Abillfedu describes 
 Achmimas a large town containing atenipe, whicli may 
 be compared witli the most celebrated inonuiiients of 
 antiquity, constructed of piocligious stones, wliich arc 
 sculptured with innumerable nj^ures. Tnougn still one 
 of the finest towns in Upper Kgypt, its extent is greatly 
 circumscribed, and its beauty much impaired. When 
 visited by M. havary, the ruins of the temple were with- 
 out the compass of the town ; some of tuc stones had 
 been transferred into a mosque, where tney were placed 
 without taste or regularity; and others lay in coalused 
 heaps in the streets of Achmim. A few still remained, 
 whose size rendered them immoveable. Among the 
 figures with which they were covered, the most remark- 
 able were four concentric circles inscribed in a square ; 
 the innermost circle contained a figure of the sun; ol 
 the two next, which were botli divided into twelve parts, 
 one exhibited twelve birds; the other, twelve animals 
 almost effaced, apparently the signs of the Zodiac ; in 
 the fourth, were represented twelve human figures, 
 which M. Savary, with much probabi.ity, supposed to 
 have been the twelve gods, designed as emblems ot the 
 twelve months; for the Egyptians were the first who 
 thus divided the year. The four seasons occupy the 
 angles of the square ; and a globe, with wings, is still 
 discernible on its side. It is probable, that the temple 
 was dedicated to the Sun, and that the hieroglyphics on 
 this stone represented his passage into the different 
 signs of the Zodiac, and his annual revolution in the hea- 
 vens. They may be regarded as an unequivocal proof, 
 that the Egyptians possessed, from the remotest antiqui- 
 ty, a considerable knowledge of astronomy. At Achmim, 
 there is a Hospice, or convent of Franciscans, established 
 for the entertainment of the converts or persecuted 
 Christians in Nubia. South of the convent, at the dis- 
 tance of some hundred yards, there is a triumphal arch 
 built by the emperor Nero, with the inscription HANI 
 ©EJi. The streets of this town are wide and clean, and its 
 police is well regulated ; but the air is tainted by a calish 
 of stagnant water, and the inhabitants are yellow and un- 
 healthy- The women retain no marks of beauty after 
 childhood ; at sixteen, they are beyond the age of mar- 
 riage ; and INIr Bruce saw several of them pregnant, 
 vho were not eleven years old. Yet the men are neither 
 smaller, nor less active and vigorous, than in other places. 
 Achmim has extensive manufactures of cotton cloth, and 
 pottery; and its crops, particulariy of wheat, are supe- 
 rior to any in Egypt. But the most remarkable object 
 in this place, is the serpent Haridi, which is the won- 
 der of all the surrounding country. It is now about a 
 century since Scheick Haridi died here, and the Maho- 
 metans, who revered hiin as a saint, erected a splendid 
 monument to his memory. An artful priest, availing 
 himself of the general veneration for Haridi's sanctity, 
 pretended that his soul had passed into one of those in- 
 nocuous serpents, with which the Thcbaid abounds. He 
 trained it with great care ; taught it to perform innume- 
 rable tricks; and, confining it to the tomb of the saint 
 whom it represented, undertook, with this sacred as- 
 sistant, to cure every species of disease. Crowds of pa- 
 tients resorted to it from all quarters; a few fortunate 
 cures, effected by nature or imagination, established its 
 credit; successive priests were intrusted with the charge 
 of this wonderful serpent, and to the persuasion of its 
 healing power, had soon the address to add the belief of 
 its immortality. They cut it in pieces in presence of 
 the emir; put it into an urn, where they allowed it to 
 
 conilnLC for two hours; and then produced a serpent, 
 which could not be distinguislied from the lornier in 
 size or appearance. Such an irresistible prool of us di- 
 vinity necessarily established its claim to adoration, and 
 gi eatly enhanced the value of its favours. Wiien pro- 
 pitious to its supplicants, it appeared at the bottom of 
 the lomb ; but soon became so shy, that it was seen only 
 by those who presented the richest offerings. In extra- 
 ordinary cases, when its presence was indispensable to 
 the cure of a patimit, a young virgin was sent to solicit 
 its aid. The damsel suffered the serpent to twi.e around 
 her, and carried it in triumph to her afiiiclcd relation, 
 whose recovery was now regarded as certain. Even the 
 Christians acknowledge the power ol the serpent Hari- 
 di; but tliey maintain, that it is the demon Asmodeus, 
 who slew the seven husbands of Tobit's wife ; and that 
 the angel Raphael, after metamorpnoshig him, conveyed 
 him to Aciniiim, where God allocs him to perform won- 
 ders for the purpose of deceiving the infidels. Accord- 
 ing to M. Savary, this serpent is of the kind described 
 by Herodotus, which were held sacred by the ancient 
 Egyptians. They were called al'cchi iaiu-om, i^ood genii, 
 and were emblems of Cnt-Jih, the symbolical divinity 
 which represented the Divine bounty. See Savary's 
 Lettres sur I'EgyJite, vol. ii. let. 6; andBruce's Travels, 
 vol. ii. p. 8, 8vo edit. E. Long. 31" 55'. N. Lat. 26'' 
 40'. {k) 
 
 ACHRADINA, one of the cities and divisions of Sy- 
 racuse, remarkable for the splendour of its public build- 
 ings. From some peculiar quality in the rocks of this 
 district, dead bodies may be preserved in them for a 
 great length of time. Hence large excavations are made 
 in them fur the reception of the dead. {iv) 
 
 ACHRAS, a genus of plants of the class Hexandria 
 and order IMonogvnia. See Botany, (to) 
 
 ACHROMATIC TELESCOPES. The name achro- 
 maiic, from a priv. and xfia/ta, cylour, \n.& given by Dr 
 Bevis to those telescopes whose object glasses are com- 
 posed of two or more lenses of different substances, for 
 the purpose of removing the chromatic and spherical 
 aberration. 
 
 It appeared from Newton's experiments on light, 
 that the refraction of the differently coloured rays, 
 which compose the prismatic spectrum, was always in 
 a given proportion to the refraction of the mean re- 
 frangible ray; that refraction could not be produced 
 without colour; and therefore, that no improvement 
 could be expected m the refracting telescope. New- 
 ton's Optics, b. ii. exp. 8. But though Newton could 
 scarcely refuse his assent to these conclusions, which 
 were fairly deducible from his experiments, he was too 
 cautious a philosopher to maintain, that the imperfec- 
 tions of the refracting telescope, arising from the aber- 
 ration of colour, were absolutely incapable of correc- 
 tion. He remarks, on the contrary, in his sixth letter 
 to Oldenburgh, that "it did not seem to him impossible 
 for contrary refractions so to correct each other's in- 
 equalities, as to make their difference regular; that, 
 for this purpose, he examined what may be done, not 
 only bv glasses alone, but more especially by a com/ili- 
 cation of driiers successive mecliu/ns, as by two or more 
 glasses, or crystals, with water, or some other fluid be- 
 tween them, all which together may perform the office 
 of the object-glass, on whose construction the perfec- 
 tion of the instrument chiefly depends ; and that the re- 
 sults of these trials, as well as the results of theory, 
 would probably be given on some future occasion."
 
 ACimOMATlC TELESCOPES. 
 
 97 
 
 From these observations, it is very obvious that Newton 
 was far iVoin despairing of the improvement of dioptric 
 instruments; and that his capacious mind, even in some 
 measure, anticipated the discovery of the achromatic 
 telescope. 
 
 The first suggestion which led the way to this great 
 discover)', has been attributed, by foreign mathemati- 
 cians, to the celebrated Euler. In the Memoirs of the 
 Berlin Academy, this philosopher observes, that New- 
 ton appeared to have no idea of correcting the chromatic 
 aberration by a combination of lenses of water and glass, 
 but that the union of transparent substances in the hu- 
 man eye, whicii he conceived to produce a perfect 
 image, suggested to himself the great probability, 
 that a similar combination might form an achromatic 
 object-glass. See ]\lc7n. Berlin, 1747, torn. iii. p. 279. 
 Euler therefore proceeded to determine the dimen- 
 sions of the lenses, which, when combined with water, 
 would produce a colourless image ; and he has comput- 
 ed a table, containing the radii of curvature for all focal 
 lengths, from one inch to 33 feet. The instruments, 
 however, which were executed at Paris on this princi- 
 ple, were found to be little better than the common re- 
 fracting telescope. 
 
 From this view of the labours of Euler, it clearly ap- 
 pears, that he was unacquainted with Newton's letter to 
 Oldenburgh ; that he proceeded on a false principle, viz. 
 the perfect achromatism of the human eye ; and that he 
 has not given a shigle hint that was not known to New- 
 ton about eighty-five years before. But though the 
 memoir of Euler is not intitled to the praise of ori- 
 ginality, it had the great merit of exciting the inquiries 
 of philosophers, respecting this long neglected subject. 
 
 The attention of Mr John Dollond was, at this time, 
 directed to the investigations of Euler; and as he per- 
 ceived that the results obtained by the German philoso- 
 pher contradicted the experiments of Newton, he re- 
 traced the calculations of the former ; he substituted the 
 tiumbers which express the ratio between the refractive 
 powers of glass and water, as deduced from the experi- 
 ments of Newton, instead of the hypothetical numbers 
 of Euler, and found, that, even upon his own principles, 
 there could be no correction of the chromatic aberra- 
 tion, unless when the focal length of the compound lens 
 was infinitely great. Dollond therefore remained in the 
 conviction, that the experiments of Nevrton were cor- 
 rect, and that refraction could not be produced without 
 colour. See Phil. Trans. 1752. 
 
 To these objections Euler replied, in the Berlin Me- 
 moirs for 1733. Without questioning the accuracy of 
 Newton, he maintained, that the quantities in his for- 
 mulae, objected to by Dollond, were too minute to inva- 
 lidate his theory ; he endeavoured to point out some 
 inconsistencies in the calculations of Dollond, and, re- 
 suming his erroneous analogy betv/et-n the organ of vi- 
 sion and his proposed telescope, he insisted, that every 
 objection to his theory v.'ould be finally removed. 
 
 The researches of Euler were carefully examined by 
 M. Klingcnstienia, a Swedish philosopher, who began 
 to suspect the accuracy of Newton's eighth experiment, 
 and therefore determined to repeat it. By making the 
 rays pass throitgh a prism of glass placed within a pris- 
 matic vessel of water, Nev.ton found, that, when the 
 emergent ray was parallel to the incident ray, it was 
 perfectly white ; and that, when inclined to the incident 
 ray, its edges were tinged with colours. But in the 
 experiment of Klingenslierna, the emergent light was 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 actually coloured, even when it emerged parallel to the 
 incident ray. See S'n'ri/. ylb/ian(Uunf;i->!. vol. xvi. p. 300. 
 
 The paper, which contained this experiment, was 
 transmitted to Mr Dollond by its author, in October 
 1754, who assailed the experiment of Newton, both by 
 geometrical and metaphysical reasoning. The former 
 convictions of the English optician were immediately 
 unsettled, and he dctemiined to resort to the infallible 
 evidence of experiment. In a prism of water, formed 
 by two pieces of plate glass, he placed a glass prism, 
 with their refracting angles in opposite directions, and 
 adjusted the angles in such a manner, that the emer- 
 gent and incident rays were parallel. When the appa- 
 ratus was thus adjusted, the emergent light was infected 
 with the prismatic colours; — a result similar to that 
 which was obtained by M. Klingensticrna, but contrary 
 to the eighth experiment of Newton. As Mr Dollond 
 was thus able to produce colour without refraction, he 
 saw, that, if the angle of the water prism could have been 
 sufficiently enlarged, he might have produced consider- 
 able refraction without colour. He therefore used a 
 glass prism with an angle of only 9°, and increased the 
 angle of the water prism, till the emergent light was free 
 from colour. In this situation of the prisms, the refrac- 
 tion by the water prism was to that of the glass prism 
 as 5 to 4. The emergent ray was therefore inclined to 
 the incident ray ; refraction was produced without co- 
 lour ; and therefore the refraction of the different colour- 
 ed rays was not in any given ratio to the mean refrac- 
 tion. 
 
 The success of these experiments naturally led Mf 
 Dollond to expect, that the same result might be ob- 
 tained by combining prisms of different kinds of glass. 
 A considerable time, however, elapsed before this ex- 
 periment was made, and it was not till the end of 1757 
 that it was successfully executed. Mr Dollond then 
 found, that, of all the kinds of glass which he tried, 
 crotvn g-ki.is pi'oduced the least divergency, or dispersion 
 of the different rays, and flint glass the greatest; and 
 that, if a prism of flint glass were cojubined with a. 
 prism of crown glass, with their refracting angles in an 
 opposite direction, and so proportioned to each other, 
 that the refraction produced by the flint glass prisin 
 was to that produced by the crown glass prism, as 2 to 3, 
 the incident light would emerge after refraction, with- 
 out divergence, or dispersion, of the rays. 
 
 When this result was obtained, the step to the inven- 
 tion of the achromatic telescope was comparatively 
 easy. A lens may be conceived as composed of an in- 
 finite number of small prisms with different refracting 
 angles ; and therefore it might naturally be supposed, 
 that an object glass, composed of a convex lens ot crown 
 glass, and a concave lens of flint glass, with the radii of > 
 curvature properly adjusted, would produce an image 
 perfectly free from chromatic aberration. Mr Dollond 
 accordingly constructed telescopes with these object- 
 glasses, wiiich were much superior to those of the com- 
 mon construction, and received the name of Achromatic 
 Telescopes. 
 
 Before we proceed to detail the future history of this 
 useful instrument, we must pause to consider a claim to 
 the invention, which has been urged in behalf of Ches- 
 ter More Hall, Esq. of Morehall, in Essex. It has been 
 positively stated, that this gentleman, so early as 1729, 
 considered the eye as an achromatic instrument, and 
 supposed, that, by a similar combination of different sub- 
 stances, an object might be formed, so as to produce a 
 N
 
 98 
 
 AC HROM ATIC TE LESCOPES. 
 
 colourless image. After many trials with (liffercnt 
 kinds' of glass, he is said to have constructed, so early as 
 1733, several achromatic object-glasses, whicli, with a 
 focal length of 20 inches, bore an aperture of more than 
 two inches and a half. One of these telescopes is stated 
 to be in the possession oi the Rev. Mr Smith, of Chai- 
 lotte-street, Rathbone Place, and to possess all the pro- 
 perties of DoUond's telescopes ; and another came into 
 the hands of Mr Ayscough, optician, in Ludgate Mill, so 
 early as 1754. These facts are mentioned in the Gen- 
 tleman's Magazine for 1790, p. 890, by an anonymous 
 author ; and, if properly authenticated, are suBicient to 
 prove, that Mr Hall was the original inventor of the 
 achromatic telescope. But though we make this admis- 
 sion, we cannot pass unnoticed the remark in that anony- 
 mous paper, that Mr Hall's invention seems to have 
 been made public by Mr Bass, the optician who ground 
 his lenses ; because it is evidently intended to insinuate, 
 that Mr DoUond had availed himself of information ob- 
 tained, either directly or indirectly, from Mr Bass. 
 Now, whatever evidence can be adduced in support of 
 Mr Hall's claims, there is the strongest reason to be- 
 lieve, that Dollond did not receive the least hint of the 
 invention. We find his attention directed to the sub- 
 ject, in consequence of Euler's researches ; and we see 
 the discovery gradually unfolding itself in his mind dur- 
 ing the vast interval between the first suggestion of 
 Klingcnstierna and the final construction of the achro- 
 matic telescope. We have therefore no difficulty in set- 
 tling the various claims, which have been urged by our 
 own countrymen and by foreigners, for the honour of 
 this invention. — By his experiments on light and col- 
 ours, Sir Isaac Newton pointed out the cause of the im- 
 perfections of the dioptric telescope. He made experi- 
 ments on compound object-glasses of water and glass, 
 with a view of removing these imperfections ; and though 
 his attempts were unsuccessful, yet he did not despair 
 that this great object might be accomplished. Euler, 
 without being acquainted with these attempts of New- 
 ton, niadc similar experiments with lenses of glass and 
 water; but was more sanguine in his hopes of success 
 than the English philosopher. Klingcnstierna had the 
 high merit of making the first step to the discovei-y, by 
 showing the error in Newton's eighth experiment, and 
 proving, that, with prisms of glass and vyater, there could 
 be colour without refraction. This idea was seized by 
 Mr Dollond, who traced it through all its consequences, 
 till he arrived at the construction of the achromatic 
 telescope. If the claims of Mr Hall are substantiated 
 by unexceptional evidence, we cannot withhold from 
 him the merit of being the original inventor. But while 
 we allow, that he may have anticipated Dollond in the 
 discovery, we must, at the same time, guard against 
 every insinuation that has the least tendency to tarnish 
 the fame of that ingenious optician. 
 
 As soon as the discovery of Dollond was made public, 
 the foreign mathematicians employed all the resources 
 of the modern analysis to ascertain the curvature which 
 mvist be given to the lenses, in order to correct, at the 
 same time, the aberration of colour and sphericity. The 
 genius of Clairaut, Euler, and D'Alcmbert, were first 
 called into action, and produced the most elegant solu- 
 tions of this interesting problem. The subject was al- 
 so investigated by Klingcnstierna, Rochon, Boscovich, 
 Pezenas, Duval le Roi, Jeaurat, and Klugcl ; and the 
 practical optician has received, fromtlie labours of these 
 
 philosophers, all the assistance which art can expect 
 from science. 
 
 Durhig all these investigations, the common theory of 
 refraction, as established by the experiments of Newton, 
 was never called in question. It wastheretore reserved 
 for our ingenious countr)'man, Dr Robert Blair, Profes- 
 sor of Practical Astronomy in the University ol Edin- 
 burgh, to throw new light upon this branch of physics. 
 The discoveries of this philosopher were equally impor- 
 tant and unexpected, and intitle him to a high rank 
 among those illustrious men, wiio have contributed to 
 the advancemerit of the science of optics. From a num- 
 ber of well-conducted experiments, Dr Blair has shown, 
 that a great variety of fluids possess the quality of dis- 
 persing the rays of light in a greater degree than crown 
 glass ; and that this quality is possessed in a remarkable 
 manner by the solutions of metals, the essential oils, and 
 all the mineral acids, excepting the sulphuric. He has 
 shown, that the superior refrangibility of the violet to the 
 red rays, when the refraction is made from any medium 
 into a vacuum, may be considered as a general fact ; yet, 
 when the refraction is made from one medium into ano- 
 ther, the red rays are sometimes the most refrangible, 
 and the violet rays the least refrangible ; and sometimes 
 all the coloured rays in the spectrum are eqiialiy re- 
 frangible, according to the qualities of the media through 
 which the light is transmitted. By making trials witJi 
 object-glasses composed of two media of difl'erent dis- 
 persive powers, in which both the chromatic and spheri- 
 cal aberrations were corrected as far as the principles 
 would allow, he found, that the correction of colour is 
 never complete ; for the green rays, which are the mean 
 refrangible in crown glass, were among the least re- 
 frangible in all the refracting media which he had 
 hitherto examined, which is evidently the cause of the 
 uncorrected colour. This circumstance would have ex- 
 tinguished every hope of removing completely the chro- 
 matic aberration ; but Dr Blair had the good fortune to 
 discover, that the muriatic acid was an exception to this 
 general rule. He found, that a fluid, in which the parti- 
 cles of muriatic acid and metalline particles hold a due 
 proportion, had a greater dispersive power tlian crown 
 glass, and, at the same time, refracted all the orders of 
 rays exactly in the same proportion as the crown glass ; 
 and hence he concluded, that rays of all colours, which 
 diverge by the refraction of the crown glass, may cither 
 be made to emerge parallel by a subsequent refraction 
 at the confines of the glass and muriatic acid ; or, by 
 diminishing the refractive density of the fluid, the re- 
 fraction, which takes place in the confines of it in the 
 glass, may be rendered as regular as reflection. Upon 
 this new principle, Dr Blair constructed an object-glass 
 fourteen inches in focal length, composed of crown glass, 
 alcohol, and an essential 6il, which was much superior to 
 an object-glass of crown and flint glass, with 30 inches 
 of focal length, and the same aperture. 
 
 Having- thus given a brief account of the histoi^ oi 
 the achromatic telescope, we shall now proceed to ex- 
 plain the principles of its construction, beginning witli 
 the achromatic object-glass. 
 
 Ox Achromatic Object-Glasses. 
 
 Let AB, CD, EF, be the three lenses which compose 
 an achromatic glass, AB and EF being convex, and of 
 crown glass, and CD being a concave lens of flint glass ; 
 ai\d let us suppose them placed at a little distance from
 
 ACimOM ATIC TELESCOP ES 
 
 99 
 
 each other, that the progvcss of the rays may be more 
 easily observed. II two -while rays of light KL, R'L', 
 moving in parallel directions, fell upon the convex lens 
 AB, at the points L, L', the red rays, which enter into 
 tlieir composition, being the least refrangible, would be 
 bent into the directions Lr,L'/', if there were no other len- 
 ses ; and the violet rays, which are the most refrangible, 
 would be bent into the directions hv, Uv. But when 
 the concave lens CD is interposed, so as to intercept 
 these rays before their convergence at the points v, r, 
 they wili be refracted from the axis, in the directions 
 m /I, n 0, because the focal distance of CD is less than 
 AB ; for, if the lens CD had been made of the same 
 glass, and with the same curvature as AB, the rays 
 would have emerged colourless, and parallel to their 
 original directions RL, R'L' The violet ray ?! o, will 
 cross the red ray at / ; because, on account of its supe- 
 rior refrangibility, it is more bent from the axis by the 
 refraction of the concave lens. The only efl'ect of the 
 greater dispersive power of the flint glass lens CD, is 
 to delay the meeting of the red and violet rays at t. 
 When the third lens EF, intercepts the rays ?n t, n t, 
 before their concourse at t, it will refract them to the 
 same point at F ; for the red rays, which are least re- 
 frangible, fall upon the lens at a greater angle of inci- 
 dence, so that the difference of their refrangibilities is 
 counteracted by their different obliquities of incidence. 
 The rays L'v, L'r, on the opposite side of the axis, will 
 vindergo similar refractions ; so that the differently 
 coloured rays will all meet in the focus F, of the com- 
 bined lenses, and will form an image nearly colour- 
 less. 
 
 When the object-glass consists only of two lenses, as 
 AB, CD, the focal length of the concave one CD, is 
 ranch greater than that of AB ; from which it happens, 
 that the rays L ?«, L n, are bent towards the axis, and, 
 in consequence of the greater dispersive power of the 
 flint glass, they are united in the focus without colour. 
 The triple object-glasses, however, are preferable to 
 those with only two lenses; for, in the former, the sphe- 
 rical, as well as the chromatic aberration may be cor- 
 rected. 
 
 It is obvious, that, in order to produce these effects, 
 there must be a certain proportion between the radii of 
 the surfaces n, b ; a', b' ; a", b" . The method of deter- 
 mining these radii by analytical investigation, will be 
 explained in the article Optics. But it may be proper 
 in this place, for the use of the practical optician, to 
 give the results, which are deducible from the researches 
 of the most eminent philosophers. The letters a, b; a', 
 b'; a", b", represent the radii of ciu'vature of the surfaces 
 to which they are affixed in Fig. 5, a being the surface 
 next the object, and b" that next the eye. The letter .r 
 is the focal length of the first lens, whose radii are a, b; 
 y, the focal length of the lens, whose radii are a', b'; and 
 z that of the lens, whose radii are a", b". The focal 
 length of the compound object-glass is always =; 1. 
 
 Forms for Tri/ite Object-Glasses. 
 
 I. a = 0.757 
 
 5 = o' = 0.505 
 
 6' = a" = 1.060 
 
 6"= 0.107 
 
 "II. a ■=. b ■= a" ■=■ b" = 0.649 
 
 a' = 6" = 0.528 
 
 III. 
 
 IV. 
 
 = 6 = a" = b" = 0.6412 
 a' = 0.5227 
 b' = 0.5367 
 
 X s= 0.6096 
 
 1/ = 0.4-38 V 
 z = 0.6096 
 
 X = 0.5038 
 
 y = 0.438S 
 
 VI. 
 
 VII. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 IX. 
 
 a = b == a' — b' = 0.530 
 a" — 1.215 
 b" = 0.3045 z = 0.7727 
 
 n = 6 = a"= A"= 0.6160 
 a' = 0.6356 
 b' = 0.3790 
 
 a = b =■ a' = b' = 0.4748 
 q"= 0.3514 
 b"= 0.4385 
 
 a = b =z 0.7963 
 a' = b' = 0.4748 
 a" = b" = 0.3023 
 
 a = b"— 0.7306 
 a' = b' = 0.4748 
 a" = b = 0.5023 
 
 a = a" = 0.7048 
 b =6"= 0.5471 
 a' =z b' = 0.4748 
 
 In the four preceding foi-ms, calculated from the formu- 
 Ise of Boscovich, the sine of incidence is to the sine of 
 refraction in the crown glass as 1.527 to 1; and as 1.575 
 to 1 in the flint glass ; and the ratio of the differences oV 
 the sines of the extreme rays 0.6486. 
 
 X. a = 6' = a" = b" = 0.6087 
 
 a' = 0.4544 
 b = 0.8596 
 
 XI. a =a"= y = 0.604 
 
 b = 0.766 
 a' = 0.455 
 b' = 0.558 
 
 XII. a = 0.628 ■ 
 
 b = 0.790 
 
 a' = 0.431 
 
 a" = b' =. 0.593 
 
 b"= 0.651 
 
 The three preceding forms are taken from the best 
 telescopes of DoUond. 
 
 Forms for Double Object-Glasses. 
 
 I. a ■=■ 0.523 
 
 b =za' = 0.318 
 
 6'= 1.582 
 
 II. 
 
 . b = 0.3206 
 n' — 0.3281 
 b' — 1.5333 
 
 These two forms are computed from Boscovich. 
 
 III. 
 
 a = 6943 
 b = 22712 
 a' = 14750 
 
 Distance between 
 
 the lenses = 109 
 
 Aperture = 3000 
 
 N2
 
 100 
 
 ACHR03IATIC TELESCOPES. 
 
 IV. 
 
 b' 
 
 — 
 
 18583 
 
 Thickness of ihc 
 
 
 
 X 
 
 = 
 
 10800 
 
 convex k-ns 
 
 = 
 
 250 
 
 V 
 
 = 
 
 14080 
 
 Thickness of the 
 
 
 
 F 
 
 = 
 
 52024 
 
 concave lens 
 
 := 
 
 100 
 
 a 
 
 
 
 2168 
 
 ^Distance between 
 
 
 
 h 
 
 = 
 
 7092 
 
 the lenses 
 
 =3 
 
 31 
 
 a' 
 
 :r= 
 
 4606 
 
 Aperture 
 
 = 
 
 937 
 
 b' 
 
 = 
 
 5740 
 
 Thickness of the 
 
 
 
 X 
 
 = 
 
 3123 
 
 convex lens 
 
 = 
 
 79 
 
 V 
 
 = 
 
 4397 
 
 Thickness of the 
 
 
 
 F 
 
 = 
 
 10000 
 
 concave lens 
 
 = 
 
 31 
 
 The two preceding forms arc calculated from Klugel. 
 F is tlie focal length of the compound object-glass. 
 
 V. a =r. 0.293 
 
 b = 0.533 
 
 a' = 0.345 
 
 b' = 1.148 
 
 In order to use the preceding forms, we have only to 
 multiply the decimal numbers by the focal length which 
 we wish to give to tlie compound object-glass ; thus, if 
 we employ the last form for a compound object-glass of 12 
 inches, wc shall have c =■ 12 X 0.293 = 3.516 inches; 
 and so on with the other radii. 
 
 When the object-glass is finished, it may be much im- 
 proved by interposing some pure turpentine varnish be- 
 tween the lenses, which prevents the loss of light from 
 tlie reflection at the internal surfaces, and remedies any 
 imperfection in the polish of the lenses. The French 
 opticians use mastich for this purpose. 
 
 The editor has been favoured with the following forms 
 for achromatic telescopes, by Mr Tulley, optician, at 
 Islington, whose admirable telescopes have received 
 the approbation of the first astronomers and opticians of 
 the present day. They contain the radii of curvature 
 which he actually employs m practice, and which vary 
 only with the density of the flint glass. 
 
 I. (7=8 inches 
 
 b = 14.3 
 
 c'= 12.11 
 
 6' = 28.5 
 
 F = 30 inches, ov 2>- feet 
 Specific gravity of the 
 
 flint glass 3.354 
 
 Ratio of refraction in 
 the crown, to that in 
 flint glass 1 to 1.655 
 
 n. 
 
 a 
 
 = 
 
 7.5 inches 
 
 
 
 
 b 
 
 r= 
 
 11.5 
 
 
 
 
 a' 
 
 == 
 
 10.1 
 
 
 
 
 b' 
 
 ^ 
 
 20.5 
 
 
 
 
 Y 
 
 = 
 
 30 inches, or 
 
 21 
 "5 
 
 feet 
 
 Specific gravity of the 
 
 
 
 
 
 flint glass . . 
 
 
 , 
 
 3.192 
 
 
 
 Ratio of refraction 
 
 , 
 
 , 
 
 1 to 1.52 
 
 
 
 in. 
 
 Specific gravity of the 
 
 
 flint glass 
 
 3.192 
 
 Ratio of refraction . . . 
 
 1 to 1.52 
 
 IV. a = 
 
 15.6 inches 
 
 b a= 
 
 17.2 
 
 a' = 
 
 16.3 
 
 4' = 
 
 54.0 
 
 F = 
 
 44 inches, or 3 feet 8 inches- 
 
 Specific gravity of the 
 
 
 flint glass 
 
 3.354 
 
 Ratio of refraction . . . 
 
 1 to 1.656 
 
 V. a = 
 
 13.6 inches 
 
 b = 
 
 18.8 
 
 a' = 
 
 17.0 
 
 b' = 
 
 67.0 
 
 F = 
 
 44 inches, or 3 feet 8 inches 
 
 Specific gravity of the 
 
 
 flint glass 
 
 3.437 
 
 Ratio of refraction . . . 
 
 1 to 1.726 
 
 VI. a = 
 
 8 inches 
 
 * = 
 
 12.5 
 
 a' = 
 
 11 
 
 b' = 
 
 27 
 
 F = 
 
 30 inches, or 2^ feet 
 
 Specific gravity of the 
 
 
 flint glass . . • . . 
 
 3.334 
 
 Ratio of refraction . . . 
 
 1 to 1.642 
 
 This form does not make such a good object-glass as 
 the rest; but it answers well with erect eye-pieces. 
 
 a = 8 inches 
 
 b == 7.5 
 
 a' — 7.4 
 
 *'= 24.5 
 
 F = 27 inches, or 2 feet S inches 
 
 VII. a = 
 
 8 inches 
 
 b = 
 
 17.2 
 
 q' = 
 
 13.15 
 
 b' = 
 
 32.6 
 
 F = 
 
 30 inches, or 2| feet 
 
 Specific gravity of the 
 
 
 flint glass 
 
 3.437 
 
 Ratio of refraction . . . 
 
 1 to 1.726 
 
 VIII. a = 
 
 1 1.5 inches 
 
 b = 
 
 16.8 
 
 e' = 
 
 15.25 
 
 b' = 
 
 32.5 
 
 X = 
 
 13.65 
 
 y = 
 
 20.76 
 
 F = 
 
 44 inches, or 3 feet 8 inches 
 
 Specific gravity of the 
 
 
 flint glass 
 
 3.192 
 
 Ratio of refraction . . . 
 
 1 to 1.52 
 
 IX. a = 
 
 18.4 
 
 b = 
 
 26.8 
 
 c' = 
 
 24.4 
 
 b' = 
 
 52.0 
 
 F = 
 
 72 inches, or 6 feet 
 
 Specific gravity of the 
 
 
 flint glass 
 
 3.192 
 
 Ratio of refraction . . . 
 
 1 to 1.52 
 
 X. c = 
 
 14.3 
 
 b = 
 
 19.4 
 
 a' = 
 
 18.0 
 
 6'== 
 
 72 
 
 F = 
 
 44 or 3 feet 8 inches
 
 AC IIROM ATIC TELESC OPES. 
 
 101 
 
 Specific gravity of tiic 
 
 flint glass 3.465 
 
 Ratio ol refraction ... 1 to 1.74 
 
 By comparing the forms VIII. and X. in which the 
 focal length of the compound object-glass is the same, 
 and in which tlie specihc gravities of tlie flint glass are 
 the greatest and the least that can be obtained, we shall 
 see the immense variation in some of the radii, arising 
 from this extreme variation of density. The radii c, A, 
 a', are nearly the same in both forms, but the surface b' 
 of the flhit glass is in tlie one case 72 inches, and in the 
 other only 32^. 
 
 On Achromatic Eye-Pieces. 
 
 In order to correct the chromatic aberration in the 
 eye-pieces of telescopes, we are not under the necessity 
 of using compound lenses of difi'erent dispersive powers, 
 as all the orders of rays can be united by a particular 
 arrangement of the eye-glasses. This will be obvious 
 from Plate IV. Fig. 6., where AB is a compound object- 
 glass, and DE an eye-piece, consisting of two lenses 
 D, E. Then if CDE be the axis of the telescope, and 
 PS a ray of white light passing through the object- 
 glass, since the object-glass is achromatic, this ray will 
 fall upon the eye-glass D, without being separated into 
 the prismatic colours, through whatever part of the com- 
 pound lens it is transmitted. This ray, however, will be 
 decomposed after refraction through the lens D, and the 
 red rays will be bent into the direction SR, and the vio- 
 let into the direction SV. But these rays are intercepted 
 by the second lens E, at the points m, n ; and as the re- 
 fracting angle of the lens is greater at m than at ra, this 
 increase of the refracting angle for the red ray will make 
 up for its inferior refrangibility, and the rays S m. S n, 
 will emerge parallel from the lens in the lines vw, nv. 
 The chromatic aberration, therefore, which is always 
 proportional to the angle formed by the rays inr, nv, will 
 be destroyed. 
 
 In small telescopes and opera-glasses, where it would 
 be very inconvenient to have along eye-piece composed 
 of several lenses, a compound lens of crown and flmt- 
 glass should be used, and may consist either of three or 
 two glasses, with the foUowmg curvatures ; the letters 
 B, b, &c. representing the same radii as before, and F 
 the focal lengtli of the compound lens being = 1 . 
 
 Tiifile Eye-Glasses. 
 
 l.c=b 
 
 II. 
 
 i = a' = b' 
 
 a" = 6" = 0.640 
 
 a- = = = 0.608 
 
 a' = b' — 0.529 
 
 y = 0.438 
 
 a = b" = 0.810 
 
 x=z = 0.608 
 
 : b' = a" = 0.529 
 
 y = 0.438 
 
 Double Eye-Glasses. 
 
 a = b = 0.320 
 
 X = 0.304 
 
 a! = b' = 0.529 
 
 y = 0.438 
 
 « = a' = * = 0.320 
 
 X = 0.304 
 
 b' = 1.517 
 
 y = 0.438 
 
 11. 
 
 If the object is to be erect, as in the Galilean teles- 
 cope, the lens of flint glass must be made convex, and 
 those of crown class concave, in order that the concavity 
 cf the compound glass may predominate. 
 
 An achromatic eye-piece for astronomical telescopes, 
 of the same kind as that which is represented in Fig. 6. 
 should have the focal length oi the lens D triple that of 
 the lens E, and the distance DE should be double the 
 focal length of E, or two-thirds of the focal length of D. 
 In one of Dollond's best telescopes, the focal length of 
 D was 12.75 lines, and its thickness 1.62 lines ; the focal 
 length of E, 5.45 lines, its thickness 1.25 lines, and the 
 distance between their interior surfaces 4.20 lines : in 
 another eye-piece of Dollond's construction, the focal 
 length of D was 8.30 lines, and its thickness 1.60 ; the 
 focal length of E 3.53,' and its thickness 0.97. In both 
 these eye-pieces, the lenses should be plano-convex, 
 with their plane sides turned to the eye, in order to di- 
 minish the spherical aberration. 
 
 When the achromatic eye-piece consists of three 
 lenses, it may be constructed by the following formulae, 
 where F is tlie focal length of the object-glass, and 
 .r, y, -, the focal length of the eye-glasses, reckoning 
 from that which is nearest the object. 
 
 Distance between 1st and 2d lenses .... x-^-y 
 
 Distances between 2d and 3d ... J/-}---! — ^ 
 
 x-i-y 
 
 Distance of 1st lens from the focus of the object- 
 glass _fif 
 
 x+y 
 
 Magnifying power of the cye-piece . . . 
 
 Focal length of a single lens with the same 
 power — f!f, 
 
 y 
 
 Distance of the eye from the 3d lens .... r 
 
 Length of the cye-piece ..... x-i■2z■^-3y 
 
 Field of view, m being the aperture of the ^ o438?« 
 
 field 3 J,' 
 
 The focal length of the 3 lenses may be made equal, 
 though it is preferable to give the third less focal length 
 than the other two, and to make its distance from the 
 second equal to its own focal length, added to IJ, 
 the focal length of one of the other lenses ; for 
 
 when X = y, the expression y -^^ z -j becomes 
 
 x+y 
 
 z-\-lky- In this case the magnifying power of the eye- 
 piece is equal to that of the third lens z. 
 
 Achromatic eye-pieces may be made of four lenses, 
 if their focal lengths are as the numbers 14, 21, 27, 32 ; 
 their distances 23,44, 40; their apertures 5.6; 5.4; 
 13.5; 2.6; and the aperture of the field bar in the an- 
 terior focus of the 4th eye-glass 7. 
 
 In one of Ramsden's eye-pieces of four lenses, the 
 focal lengths were 0.77 of an inch; 7.025; 1.01 ; 0.79 ; 
 and their distances 1.18; 1.83; 1.10, reckoning from the 
 lens next the object. This eye-piece was equal to a lens 
 0.566 inches in focal length. 
 
 In one of Dollond's best eye-pieces, the focal lengths 
 were 14i lines; 19;22|; 14; the distances 22.48 ; 46.17; 
 21.45, and the thickness of the lenses at their centre 
 1.23; 1.25; 1.47. 
 
 With the intention of enlarging the field of view, Mr 
 Dollond constructed some eye-pieces, consisting of five, 
 and some even of six lenses ; but the limits of tliis work 
 will not permit us to enter into any details, respecting
 
 102 
 
 ACT 
 
 ACI 
 
 their construction. Besides the works quoted under 
 Aberration, in O/iUck., see Alcm. Acad. Par. 1779, p. 
 23. Aliscellanca Taiirincnsia, torn. 3. part iii. p. 92. 
 Killer's Diojitrics. Roclion's O/nisculcs, 1768. Rochon's 
 JMemoires, 1783. Boscovich's Diascrtaliona., Vicniui, 
 1767. JMe/nohc sitl/i Cannocliiali, 1781. And two French 
 translations of Smith's Ofitics, by Pezenas, and M. Du- 
 val Ic Roi, 1767. See also Optics, (w) 
 
 ACHYRANTHES, a genus of plants of the class 
 Pentandria, and order Monogynia. See Botaky. {iv) 
 
 ACIA, a genus of plants of the class Dodecandria, 
 and order Monodelphia. See Botany, (w) 
 
 ACIDS arc a class of chemical agents, distinguished 
 by the following common properties : — They have a sour 
 taste, and are the only substances to which this taste 
 belongs; they arc more or less soluble in water; they 
 change the blue, purple, and green colours of vegetables 
 to a red ; combine with alkalis and earths, neutralizing 
 their common properties ; and dissolve metals and me- 
 tallic oxides. These properties are possessed by the 
 different acids in very different degrees. In some of 
 them, the sour taste is scarcely perceptible in their most 
 concentrated state ; in others, it is extremely strong, 
 even when they are largely diluted with water : and a 
 similar diversity exists with regard to all their other 
 characteristic properties. In general, they exert ener- 
 getic chemical actions, partly from tiie facility with which 
 they afib'-d oxygen to bodies, and partly from the pow- 
 erful affinities they directly exert; and the history of 
 their properties and combinations constitutes the most 
 extensive department of the science of chemistry. 
 
 The important truth, that oxygen is the principle of 
 acidity, was established by the researches of Lavoisier, 
 and formed one of the leading propositions of the mo- 
 dern chemical system, which he contributed to rear. By 
 a very ample induction, this eminent chemist demon- 
 strated, that the greater number of simple inflammable 
 substances, when combined with oxygen, in certain pro- 
 portions, form compounds possessed of acid powers ; 
 and again, by decomposing a number of acids, he proved, 
 that oxygen exists in them as a constituent principle. 
 He hence inferred, that oxygen is essential to their com- 
 position, and is the principle of acidity.* 
 
 * This, however regarded as a just induction during 
 the meridian splendour of the antiphlogistic theory, bids 
 fair to become equally objectionable with its previously 
 flourishing antagonist. By neither the phlogistic, nor 
 antiphlogistic theory separately, can the various facts 
 of chemical science be completely explained ; and 
 the numerous discoveries, of late brought to light by the 
 agency of galvanism, tend strongly to evince, that a just 
 view of the subject can only be derived from the united 
 strength of both doctrines. It is true, Lavoisier demon- 
 strated that the greater number of inflammable substan- 
 ces foiTned acids by combination with oxygen ; but it is 
 equally true, that many of those substances, then deemed 
 siin/i/e, are now shown to be compounds, of which hy- 
 drogen forms a part. The doctrine of Lavoisier therefore 
 totters at its base; and if the foundation be erroneous, 
 the superstructure cannot be correct. It is incumbent 
 on those who still maintain inviolable this supposed sole 
 principle of acidity, to show what becomes of the other 
 constituents of those bodies thus acidified. If it is still 
 retained, it most probably must produce some influence 
 on the change resulting ; and that it is retained, is ren- 
 
 Thcre existed, even at the period of Lavoisier's re- 
 searches, some objection to this conclusion. Three very 
 powerful acids ha<l, in particular, not been decomposed ; 
 and it was therefore only an hypothesis to infer, as it was 
 necessary to do, in conformity to the theory he sought to 
 establish, that they are compounds, and contain oxygen 
 as an element. Yet the analogy between these, and the 
 other acids which had been decomposed and proved to 
 contain oxygen, is so direct, that the inference could 
 scarcely but be admitted as having much probability ; 
 and it is probable that it will soon be confinned by the 
 application of Galvanism to the analysis of these acids. 
 
 There are some other facts which have been stated as 
 unfavourable to the conclusion, that oxygen is exclusive- 
 ly the principle of acidity. Thus it is affirmed, that 
 there are acids, the composition of which is known, and 
 in which no oxygen is contained. Sulphuretted hydrogen 
 gas has been given as an example of this. It is a com- 
 pound of sulphur and hydrogen, in the proportions, as 
 determuied by Thenard, of 70.857 of sulphur, and 29.143 
 of hydrogen. Yet it appears to possess the properties 
 of an acid. It changes the more delicate vegetable co- 
 lours, as those of litmus and radish, to a red, it is abim- 
 dantly soluble in water, decomposes soap, a property be- 
 longing to the acids, and, what is the most distinctive 
 acid character, combines with the alkalis, earths, and 
 metallic oxides, forming compounds, some of which are 
 crystallizable, and not very dissimilar in their properties 
 to the compounds of these substances with the acids. 
 Hence BeithoUet has not hesitated to rank it as an acid, 
 and to conclude that it proves, " that acidity is not in all 
 cases owing to oxygen."* 
 
 dered more than probable, since its escape has never 
 yet been demonstrated by any product into which it 
 may have been supposed to enter. 
 
 That oxygen enters into the composition of acids is not to 
 be called in question ; as little shall we deny its neces- 
 sity to acidification; but that it is the principle, the sole 
 principle of that result, is far from being demon- 
 strated. 
 
 It certainly is very extraordinary, supposing Lavoi- 
 sier's doctrine correct, that the only really simple in- 
 flammable substance, which combines with an infinitely 
 larger proportion of oxygen than any other known, 
 should produce with it, a body totally devoid of any acid 
 property. Hydrogen, the on/y really slm/ile inflamma- 
 ble, takes up 85 per. ct. of oxygen — and water is the re- 
 sult: now wherein does this differ from other inflam- 
 mables, that an anomaly so strange should here prevail ? 
 Davy's experiments answer this — all the other inflamma- 
 bles are compounds ; of course, other principles are to be 
 taken into consideration in the process of their acidifi- 
 cation. Hydrogen is the principle which he finds uni- 
 ted to them in their pristme state ; and as this appears 
 universal, so, to that principle in combination with the 
 base and with oxygen, is its acidity to be ascribed. 
 Oxygen alone does not produce it ; hydrogen alone is 
 equally inefficient ; but both connected, operating on a 
 base, produce an acid, depending on that base for its 
 specific character ; hence we perceive that an opening 
 is hereby shown, for the junction of these hitherto dis- 
 cordant theories. Coxe. 
 
 * This substance, by Davy's experiments, has lately 
 been shown to possess oxygen, and hence the objections 
 of BerthoUet on that score alone, are unfounded. /(/.
 
 ACI 
 
 AGO 
 
 103 
 
 There is still, however, some rciison lo doubt with re- 
 gard to this conclusion. Though this substance reddens 
 some ot the vegetable colours, there are others on which 
 it has not this efVcct; untl one of them, the syrup of vio- 
 lets, reddened by all the acids, it even changes to a 
 green. And BertlioUet himself has admitted, that he is 
 uncertain it its power is sufVicienlly energetic to pro- 
 duce neutralization in its combinations with the alkaline 
 bases. Besides, if even its acid powers were unequivo- 
 cally established, its composition is not determined witli 
 that precision which would preclude the possibility of 
 oxygen being contained in it. In all the processes by 
 which it is formed, oxygen is present, and ur^iy enter 
 into combination v/ith its other elements; and in all the 
 analyses of it hitherto executed, it will he Ibiuid, that no 
 attention has been paid to the possible source of fallacy, 
 that, if it contain oxygen, this, when its composition is 
 subverted, may combhie with a portion of its hj drogen, 
 and form water. The proportions of its elements have 
 always been estimated from experiments, in which the 
 proportion of sulphur only was directly determined. 
 From tliis was inferred, the proportion of hydrogen, with 
 which this sulphur was combined. But it is obvious, 
 that for any thing proved by such an analysis, oxygen 
 may have also been a constituent principle of it, and the 
 proportion of hydrogen estimated too high. And if 
 oxygen do enter into its composition, a small quantity 
 may communicate to it its weak acid powers ; for we are 
 not to judge of the quantity of oxygen necessary to 
 acidify a compound base, from the quantity that would be 
 required to render acid either of its elements. 
 
 Other objections that have been niade to the prhiciplc, 
 that oxygen is exclusively the source of acidity, are of 
 less force. The substances to which the names of Prus- 
 sic acid, and Uric acid, have been given, have been sup- 
 posed to contain no oxygen ; but from the complicated 
 products of their analysis, this has scarcely been deter- 
 mined with accuracy, and indeed rather appears to be a 
 mistake. And it deserves to be remarked, as even fa- 
 vourable to the conclusion, that acidity depends on oxy- 
 gen ; that of these two substances, into the composition 
 of which oxygen has been supposed not to enter, the 
 acid powers are so weak, that some chemists have sup- 
 posed, that they ought not to be received into the class 
 of acids. 
 
 Muriatic acid, by an addition of oxygen, it has been 
 stated, has its acid powers not augmented, but much 
 diminished. It loses its sour taste ; becomes less solu- 
 ble in water; and does not redden the vegetable colours. 
 But it still retains the most characteristic acid proper- 
 ty — that of neutralizing the alkaline properties; and, as 
 Berthollet has justly remarked, the reciprocal satura- 
 tion of the muriatic acid ?.nd the oxygen in this combi- 
 nation, must weaken their tendency to other combina- 
 tions, hence diminish some of the acid properties; while 
 the excess of oxygen not retained by a strong affinity, 
 must give rise to other properties not usually observed 
 in acids, such as that of destroying, instead of reddening, 
 the vegetable colours. 
 
 It thus appears, that there is stil! sufficient reason to 
 conclude, that oxygen is exclusively the principle of 
 acidity. It is no doubt possible, a ftriori, that the pro- 
 perty which we name acidity, characterized chiefly by 
 the power of combining with the alkaline bases, and 
 neutralizing their properties, may arise from other com- 
 binations, or be even displayed by a simple stibstance ; 
 but the facts, that in general oxygen is contained in 
 
 tiujse substances which are possessed of this property, 
 and that tliis element communicates acid powers to the 
 substances with which it combines, apjjear to esublish 
 the conclusion that it is the principle of acidity. Nor 
 does it follow from this, that all the compounds which it 
 forms should be acid ; for if present in small proportion, 
 and particularly w hen combined w ilh an element, the 
 chemical action of which is energetic, the powers may 
 not appear which it would conmmnicate were it predo- 
 minant in the composition. And accordingly in many 
 combinations, the presence of a small proportion of oxy- 
 gen does not conmmnicate acidity, while this property 
 appears when the oxygen becomes more predomuiant. 
 
 In conseqtience of the researches of modern chemis- 
 try the number of known acids is now considerable. 
 They amount to about twenty -eight. Of these, eighteen 
 exist in the mineral kingdom, or arc formed from mine- 
 ral substances ; nine are products of the vegetable sys- 
 tem; and five are of animal origin. 
 
 The plan of our work being in general to place under 
 the account of each branch of science, those details 
 which are more particularly connected with it, we refer 
 to the article Chemistry for the history of the individual 
 acids, and any farther observations on the chemical pro-- 
 perty of acidity. (6) 
 
 ACILIUS, Glabrio Marcus, a descendant of the 
 Roman family of Acilia, who was raised to the consul- 
 ship in the year of Rome 562. He was sent against An- 
 tiochus, king of Syria, with an army of 12,000 men. The 
 Syrian army waited the approach of the Romans at the 
 streights of Thermopylae in Thessaly ; but after a severe 
 engagement, they were compelled to retire with con- 
 siderable loss. After taking lieraclea, Acilius attacked 
 the Jitolians, who had joined Antiochus, and besieged 
 them in Naupactum; but before the termination of the 
 siege, peace was concluded at the solicitation of T. Q. 
 Flaminius. In consequence of a vow made by Acilius 
 before the battle of Thermopylre, he built the temple of 
 Piety at Rome. It was afterwards consecrated by his 
 son, who adorned it with an equestrian statue of his fa- 
 ther, which was the first of the kind that had been seen 
 in Italy. See Livy, lib. 36. cap. 14, 23, 24, 25 ; lib. 40. 
 cap. 34. — Valer. Max. lib. 3. cap. 34. (to) 
 
 ACIRS, the name given to the destructive hurricanes 
 of snow which rage among the Cevennes, a chain of 
 mountains in the south of France. The fury of these • 
 tempests is so dreadful, that the traveller has no chance 
 of escaping with his life. The ravines are instantly 
 filled; the precipices disappear; and the villages arc 
 so overwhelmed with snow, that the inhabitants arc 
 sometimes obliged to communicate with each other by 
 subterraneous passages, excavated out of the superin- 
 cumbent mass. {io) 
 
 ACLIDES, a missive weapon used by the Romans. 
 It was fixed to the end of a string, so that when dis- 
 charged from the hand, it could be drawn back again for 
 further use. (w) 
 
 ACNID A, a genus of plants of the class DisEcia, and 
 order Pentandria. See Botany, (tw) 
 
 ACOEMETv'E, from x/irix'. and Koifimu, to lie down, 
 a class of eastern monks, who, during the fifth century, 
 kept up perpetual worship in their churches. See His- 
 toire cies Ordres Mo>iasti(/ue.f, par M. Helvot, torn. i. 
 cap. 29. Rom. 1770; and Wetstein's Froleg. Xov. Tcsr. 
 vol. i. p. 10. (w) 
 
 ACOLYTHI, from « /irw. and ko^^vu, to disturb, a 
 name given to the stoics from the obstinacy w ith ■« hich
 
 104 
 
 ACQ 
 
 ACO 
 
 they adhered to their prmciples and resolutions. This 
 appellation was likewise given to an inferior order of 
 clergy in the Latin church, who were next in rank to 
 the sub-deacons, (w) 
 
 ACONITUM, a genus of plants of the class Polyan- 
 dria, and order Trigynia. See Botany, (iu) 
 
 ACORN, the nut of the oak tree. A method of pre- 
 serving acorns for a whole year in bees-wax, may be 
 seen in a paper by Mr Ellis in the F/nl. Trans, for 1768, 
 p. 75. This fruit was used as food l)efore the cultivation 
 of corn. In Spam it has been considered as a delicacy, 
 and served up as a desert ; and in seasons of scarcity, 
 the Norwegians grind it into meal for making bread. 
 Acorns have been considered as the best substitutes for 
 coffee, when they arc toasted brown, and have absorbed 
 some fresh butler, (to) 
 
 ACORUS, a genus of plants of the class Hexandria, 
 and order Monogynia. Sec Botany, (w) 
 
 ACOSTA, Uriel, a native of Portugal, whose life 
 exhibits a melancholy picture of the consequences of un- 
 settled opinions, and the cruelty of intolerance. Acosta 
 was born towards the close of the sixteenth century, and 
 educated in the Roman Catholic religion. As he ad- 
 vanced in years, however, he began to doubt the truth 
 of its doctrines; and, on making a comparison between 
 Christianity and Judaism, he preferred the latter, and 
 determined to embrace it. Dreading, however, the in- 
 tolerance of the Catholics, he relincjuished an office of 
 some emolument in Portugal, and persuaded the sur- 
 viving members of his own family to forsake their native 
 countiy, and accompany him to Amsterdam. Here he 
 underwent circumcision, and was admitted to the syna- 
 gogue ; but having soon discovered, that the practices of 
 the Jews were inconsistent with his opinions, he refused 
 
 to comply with them, and was therefore excommuni- 
 cated. He immediately became the object of persecu- 
 tion, was reviled as an atheist, and was even exposed to 
 the insults of the children in the streets. The resent- 
 ment of the i)cople was still farther inflamed against him, 
 on account of a treatise which he wrote on the Saddu- 
 cean principle, denying the resurrection of the dead. 
 For this ofl'ence he was dragged by the Jews before 
 the civd tribunal ; his book was confiscated ; and he was 
 fined a large sum, and imprisoned. Acosta [)rocecded 
 still farther in scepticism, and at length ventured to deny 
 the divine legation of Moses. But his firmness was not 
 equal to his temerity ; for though he had lived no less 
 than fifteen years under a sentence of excomnmnication, 
 he afterwards made a public recantation of his errors 
 in the synagogue, and subscribed the dogmas of the 
 Jewish church. A few days subsequent to this event, 
 he is said to have been accused by his own nephew of 
 neglecting the rites of Judaism. The sentence of ex- 
 communication was again passed, and was attended by 
 the more humiliating disgrace of receiving thirty-nine 
 stripes ; and of being laid on his back at the entrance 
 of the synagogue, that every one might pass over him. 
 We cannot wonder that such aggravated persecution 
 rendered Acosta desperate. He resolved on the des- 
 truction of his principal enemy, but having failed in the 
 attempt, shot himself between the years 1640 and 1650. 
 See Acosta's Exemfilar. Vit. //zimfin. passim; and Lim- 
 borch's Refutation of it. (r) 
 
 ACOUSMATICI, the name given the disciples of 
 Pythagoras, who had not completed their noviciate of 
 five years, and who were therefore not initiated into the 
 secrets of his philosophy, (to) 
 
 ' ACOUSTICS. 
 
 Acoustics, or the science which treats of the nature 
 and laws of sound, has considerable claims upon our 
 attention. The phenomena which it presents ai'e highly 
 interesting ; and the inquiries of philosophers into their 
 causes have been crowned with considerable success. 
 
 History. 
 
 Several Important facts concerning sound must have 
 been known at a very early period. The tuning of the 
 lyre, and various other instruments, which are coeval 
 ■with the remotest antiquity, necessarily implies an ac- 
 quaintance with the fact, that as we diminish the length 
 of musical strhigs, or increase their tension, we render 
 their tone more acute. AVe have, however, no reason 
 to believe, that till 500 years before the Christian era, 
 any attempt had been made to discover the relation 
 which subsists between the length of strings producing 
 the various notes of music. About this period, Pytha- 
 goras gave a correct determination of the ratios between 
 various sounds. 
 
 The account which the ancients give of the mode by 
 which this philosopher discovered these values is evi- 
 dently fabulous, so that we cannot say with certainty 
 how he obtained them ; thougli it was probably by 
 means of some instrument, which, like the monochord, 
 would enable him to increase or diminish at pleasure the 
 effective length of a string. 
 
 About 200 years subsequent to the time of Pytliago- 
 ras, Aristotle, who seems to have attended to almost 
 every subject, wrote upon the nature of sound. He 
 understood, tliat the number •of vibrations perfoiTned 
 by strings, or by the air in pipes, is inversely as their 
 lengths ; and that sound is transmitted to the ear by 
 similar vibrations conmiunicated to the atmosphere. 
 We are not infoniied on what evidence Aristotle found- 
 ed these doctrines ; but it is likely, from the loose 
 reasonuig, and imperfect analogies with which the an- 
 cients were satisfied in their physical inquiries, that 
 these opinions v/ere merely sagacious conjectures. 
 
 Such, in Acoustics, was the nan-ow patrimony trans- 
 mitted to us by the ancients ; and even this scanty pit- 
 tance we did not receive till it was too late to be of any 
 material advantage. During the darkness which over- 
 spread the whole literary world,no additions were made 
 to the science of Acoustics, and even the knowledge 
 which the ancients possessed on this subject, was in a 
 great measure lost ; for though the writings of Aristotle 
 had been preserved, they were so completely misunder- 
 stood, as to be of no use. Galileo may therefore be justly 
 said to have (about the year 1600 after Christ) disco- 
 vered anew, what was known to the ancients concerning 
 the nature of sound. He conceived, that sound is mere- 
 ly a vibration of the air ; that the distinction betv/een 
 musical sounds probably consists in the different fre- 
 quency of these vibrations; and that amusical string, by
 
 ACOUSTICS. 
 
 1U5 
 
 performing each of its vibrations in equal times, pre- 
 serves its uniformity of tone. lie considered the whole 
 matter of a musical string as if collected into its middle 
 point ; and demonstrated, that on this supposition its 
 vibrations would be performed in e(|ual times ; whence 
 he concluded, that if the matter be diffused uniformly 
 alon'^ the string, its vibrations will obey the same law. 
 
 Though the latter part of this reasoning, in which it 
 is inferred that an uniform string vibrates similarly to 
 what it would do if its whole matter were collected into 
 one point, proceeds on an analogy too distant to be by 
 any means conclusive, the labours of Galileo were va- 
 luable, as they led the way to more accurate investiga- 
 tions. 
 
 In the year 1714, Dr Brook Taylor demonstrated Ga- 
 lileo's theorem, upon the hypothesis of the initial form 
 of a vibrating string being what is called an harmonic 
 airvf ; and he gave a determination of the frequency 
 of vibration in such a curve. By this demonstration, 
 Dr Taylor has an indisputable claim to the honour of 
 being the first who proved the Isochronism of a vibrat- 
 ing string. M. Sauveur had indeed, in the preceding 
 year, attempted to give a solution of the same theorem, 
 but his demonstration Is in all respects erroneous. Dr 
 Taylor was mistaken in supposing, that, whatever may 
 be the initial form of an inflected string, it will, after a 
 few vibrations, assimie the form of an hamionic curve ; 
 and that this is the only curve in whicli isochronous 
 vibrations can be performed, or all the points of a string 
 arrive at its axis at the same time. Yet his determina- 
 tion of the frequency of the vibrations of a string ex- 
 tends to all cases ; as this frequency is the same, what- 
 ever be the initial figure of the string, if it be all situ- 
 ated on the same side of its axis. 
 
 The limited nature of the solution given by Dr Tay- 
 lor, induced D'Alembert to apply himself to the same 
 question. The result of his labours was given in the 
 Berlin Memoirs for the year 1750. In that volume, 
 D'Alembert has, by the mode of Jiartiat differences, 
 given a solution of this problem, which embraces all 
 the initial forms of a chord, in which the law of continu- 
 ity takes place ; and has shown, that there is an infinite 
 number of curves, different from that discovered by Dr 
 Taylor, each endowed with this property, that all its 
 points arrive simultaneously at its axis. Shortly after, 
 Euler gave another solution, founded on similar prin- 
 ciples, which led him to a construction more general 
 than that which D'Alembert had employed. It was ob- 
 jected to the generality of this construction, first by 
 D'Alembert, and afterwards by La Grange, that the 
 principles on which it is founded necessarily limit its 
 application to those cases In which the initial form of a 
 string is a continued curve. Euler, with a greatness of 
 mind of which we have but few examples, acknowledged 
 the justice of the remarks which the latter of these ma- 
 thematicians had made against the generality of his con- 
 struction. 
 
 Daniel Bernoulli attempted to extend Dr Taylor's 
 solution to all possible initial forms, by conceiving them 
 to be either harmonic curves, or produced by a combina- 
 tion of several subordinate harmonic curves. This sup- 
 position enabled hun to give a solution of the problem 
 of vibrating strings, equally extensive in its application 
 with those which can be legitimately deduced from the 
 methods of either D'Alembert or Euler. These three 
 mathematicians have equally fliiled in shoving, that their 
 equations extend to all possible cases of a vibrating 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 chord. To remedy this delect, I>a (irange uncstiga- 
 ted this question by a mode perfectly new, and totally 
 independent of the hypothesis, that the initial form of 
 the vibrating chord is subjected to any law of continu- 
 ity ; and therefore his conclusions nmst be considered 
 as independent of any such law. lie considers a vibrat- 
 ing chord under two views, either as composed of a 
 finite or an infinite number of particles. In the former 
 case, analysis conducts him to a general theory, the same 
 with that which we have mentioned above as invented by 
 Daniel Bernoulli. In the latter case, his conclusions arc 
 exactly the same with those which Euler had drawn 
 from sources not so legitimate. 
 
 Daniel Bernoulli, subsecjuent to the publication of his 
 essay on vibrating chords, investigated the lateral vibra- 
 tions of an elastic rod fixed at one extremity; and de- 
 termined the vibrations of a column of air contained in 
 a pipe. The conclusions at which he has arrived, have, 
 when brought to the test of experiment, been found ac- 
 curate, though deduced from suppositions which arc 
 not considered as perfectly just. Euler and La Grange 
 have also prosecuted this latter stibject, by methods 
 similar to those which they have employed in the pro- 
 blem of vibrating chords. The vibrations of several 
 other bodies have been considered by both Bernoulli 
 and Euler, and the results of the latter corrected in 
 some instances by Riccati. 
 
 Sir Isaac Newton was the first who investigated, with 
 any precision, the propagation of sound. His reason- 
 ings on this subject were always considered as extreme- 
 ly difficult and obscure, and have been shown, first by 
 M. Cramer, and afterwards more fully by La Grange, to 
 be in some respects faulty ; but by that good fortune 
 which attended him In all his researches, his conclu- 
 sions are accurate, and have been confirmed by the in- 
 quiries of subsequent philosophers. 
 
 Several other mathematicians attempted this subject 
 with no better success than had attended the efforts of 
 sir Isaac Newton ; their methods being founded on 
 such erroneous principles, or their calculations being 
 so embarrassed with infinite series, as to remove all 
 confidence in their conclusions. 
 
 At length, about the year 1759, both La Grange and 
 Euler succeeded in giving solutions of this problem, 
 unobjectionable in their principles, and extensive in their 
 application ; thus subjecting to analysis a problem in- 
 volved in such difficulties, as seemed to place it wholly 
 above the reach of mathematical investigation. 
 
 One circumstance, however, rendered the labours of 
 these philosophers not quite satisfactory. The velocity 
 which theory uniformly attributes to sound, is found to 
 differ considerably from experience. The cause of 
 this difference La Place has lately suggested to be an 
 increase in the elasticity of the air, produced by the 
 heat evolved during the condensation to which it Is sub- 
 jected in transmitting an imdulation. 
 
 Biot has examined what Increase of elasticity would 
 be required to render theory consistent with obsena- 
 tion ; and has found it to differ very little from what 
 should take place agreeably to the experiments of Mr 
 Dalton on air, removing by this result the chief dif- 
 ficulty in the theory of sound. 
 
 The science of Acoustics is indebted to several other 
 philosophers, who have laboured in the experimental de- 
 partment of this science. 
 
 About the year 1654, Soland made the first speaking 
 trumpet from the description given by Kircher, of the 
 O
 
 106 
 
 ACOUSTICS. 
 
 lube which Alexander was supposed to have used in 
 commanding his armies. Moreland, however, by draw- 
 ing the attention ol philosophers to that which he con- 
 btructed in 1671, had the merit ol" being the first 
 who made this instrument really known, and applied 
 to use. 
 
 Dr Wall is about the same time discovered the fact, 
 that il a string be made to sound near another which 
 corresponds to it in thickness and tension, but of which 
 the length is any multiple of it, the latter will divide 
 itself into several vibrating portions, each equal in length 
 to the fonner string, and sounding the same note with 
 it. He also discovered, that, when a string is divided 
 by any slight pressure into two portions, commensura- 
 ble with each other, the vibrations excited in one of 
 these portions will communicate itself to the other. The 
 grave harmonics produced by the union of two sounds, 
 were observed about the year 1753, by both Tartini and 
 Romieu. 
 
 Lambert, by his experiments on flutes; DrChladni, 
 by his mode of observing the vibrations of plates, and 
 his discovery of the longitudinal and spiral vibrations of 
 solid bodies ; Dr Thomas Young, by his observations on 
 the rotatory motions of strings ; and Dr Robison, by his 
 remarks on the production of continued sounds by dis- 
 tinct independent noises, the induction of harmonics on 
 a vibrating chord, and the transmission of sound through 
 water — have extended our experimental knowledge on 
 this subject, and corrected our theoretical deductions 
 by the accurate test of experience. 
 
 By the labours of these philosophers, Acoustics has 
 been brought to a state of great perfection. The science 
 now presents a very different aspect from what it ex- 
 hibited in the time of the ancients. The properties by 
 
 which bodies act in producing sound, arc now known j 
 and their mode of operation has, in general, been suc- 
 cessfully investigated ; — the laws which sound obeys u» 
 its transmission to the organ of hearing, have been re- 
 duced to the common principles of mechanics ; — tl)e 
 essential differences between various sounds have been 
 detected ; and their mode of action upon the ear is 
 pretty well understood : thus affording us a more com- 
 plete knowledge concerning sound, and the sense of 
 hearing, than we possess with respect to any other of 
 our senses or their objects. 
 
 These improvements we chiefly owe to the exquisite 
 refinements in modern mathematics, and to the spirit of 
 experimental philosophy, which has diffused itself over 
 Euiope since the thne of Bacon. 
 
 The different sciences are united by so many points of 
 contact, that we can hardly promote any one of them, 
 without at the same time advancing several others. The 
 mode of partial differences was chiefly suggested to 
 D'Alembert, by his inquiries concerning a vibrating 
 string ; and it is by the application of it which he has 
 given during the course of tliese inquiries, that Euler 
 was enabled to erect a superstructure, which has in a 
 manner made the discovery entirely his own, and almost 
 wholly changed the appearance of fluxions. 
 
 The researches into the nature ol sound have also 
 illumined several collateral branches of pt.ysical know- 
 ledge. By tliem we have acquired more accurate views 
 of the real motions which take place in nature ; and 
 the facts which have been discovered concerning sound, 
 afford valuable hints to the theorist, both in physics 
 and physiology, and promise to form a powerful in- 
 strument of research in the hands of the experimental 
 philosopher. 
 
 PART I. THEORY OF ACOUSTICS. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Of the Production of Sound in General. 
 
 If we rub our moistened finger along the edge of a 
 drinking glass, or draw a bow aci'oss the strings of a 
 violin, we can in both cases procure sounds which re- 
 main undiminished in intensity, as long as the operation 
 by which they are excited is continued. A similar fact 
 takes place with respect to any other sonorous body, 
 whose structure is not destroyed by the mode of excita- 
 tion employed. When therefore the sound of a body 
 becomes by any means extinguished, we are not to at- 
 tribute this extinction to the capability of the body for 
 producing sound being exhausted, but rather to the dis- 
 continuance of that mode of action by which the excited 
 body had formerly produced sound. 
 
 Though all bodies may, by some mode of excitation, 
 be made to sound, there is a great difference among 
 them in the intensity of the sounds which they produce 
 during the operation, and in the permanence of these 
 sounds after the excitation has ceased. Thus, if we 
 strike two bells, one of lead, and the other of brass, the 
 sound of the former is feeble and momentary, compared 
 with that of the latter. In the former, therefore, ac- 
 cording to the remark which we have made above, that 
 action, by which the body produces sound, is excited 
 only in a small degree, and ceases with the excitement ; 
 
 in the latter there is some power, by which, wlien this 
 mode of action is once begun, it perseveres in it for 
 some time afterwards. By examining the characteristic 
 difference between these two classes of bodies, we may 
 be enabled to discover what are the physical properties 
 on which the production of sound depends, and what is 
 their mode of action. This difference is found to depend 
 on the substance and the form of the sounding bodies, 
 and also upon the various external circumstances in 
 which they are placed. 
 
 In comparing the properties of these substances, we 
 shall find them distinguished from each other by the de- 
 gree of vibration which they are capable of having ex- 
 cited in them, and by the length of time during which 
 they can preserve a vibratoiy motion ; those substances 
 which are most capable of vibration being most sonorous, 
 and those which can longest maintain a state of vibra- 
 tion also persevering longest in emitting sound. In- 
 stances of this law will readily suggest themselves to 
 the reader. Bodies, though of the same substance, 
 differ in these respects according as their form varies ; 
 those forms which are most favourable to the produc- 
 tion and continuance of a vibratory motion, being also 
 most propitious to the production and permanence of 
 sound. 
 
 A similar analogy prevails with respect to the exter- 
 nal circumstances which affect sounding bodies ; and 
 gives US sufficient ground to believcj that there is some
 
 ACOUSTICS. 
 
 107 
 
 connexion between the production of sound and the vi- 
 bration of bodies. Accordingly, wlieu a body sounds 
 powerfully, such as a large bell, or the lowest siring of 
 a harpsichord, we can, by the naked eye, perceive that 
 it actually vibrates ; and even in those cases where this 
 is not so perceptible, we may detect it by the microscope, 
 or some other artifice. Thus, if we put some water 
 into'a glass, and make it sound, as in the experiment first 
 mentioned, the water will be agitated. If we hold the 
 open hand over the pipe of an organ, we shall feel a 
 tremulous motion in the air passing throiigh it. Such 
 rxperiments may be extended to all solid bodies, by 
 strewing them with fine sand, or placing upon them 
 small pieces of paper. 
 
 These observations, showing that the intensity and 
 permanence of the sounds which can be produced from 
 sonorous bodies, are uniformly proportional to the de- 
 gree and permanence of the vibration which can be ex- 
 cited in them, and that the production of sound is al- 
 ways accompanied by such a vibration, prove, that sound 
 and vibration are necessarily connected, either as cause 
 and effect, or as simultaneous effects of the same cause. 
 But as we are already acquainted with the causes on 
 Mhich vibration depends, and which sufficiently account 
 for it, there reinains for us either to consider sound as 
 produced by vibration, or to believe that tliose physical 
 properties by which bodies vibrate, are capable of be- 
 ing at the same time excited to some other mode of ac- 
 tion, by which they produce sound : Thus, when we 
 strike a bell with a hammer, and produce a sound, we 
 may either suppose, that the vibration which is thus 
 excited is the cause of the sound, or we may imagine, 
 that those physical properties which render the bell ca- 
 pable of vibration are excited to some other mode of 
 action which produces sound ; and that the hammer not 
 only acts by its impulse in producing vibration, but also 
 exerts some other influence which excites sound. This 
 latter opinion will appear inadmissible, if we consider, 
 that a tendency to produce inotion in the sounding body 
 is the only thing common to the several modes of excit- 
 ing sound ; and that the physical properties by which bo- 
 dies vibrate are not in all cases the same ; some vibrating 
 in consequence of their cohesion, some by means of a 
 strong repidsion between their particles, which opposes 
 their being compressed, and others from either of these 
 causes separately, or from both of them combined. 
 
 Though these observations, we conceive, sufiicient- 
 ly establish the opinion, that vibration is the cause of 
 sound, it may be satisfactory to deduce the same doctrine 
 from the two following experiments. 
 
 Let AFB be a string, stretched between the two pins 
 A and B,one of which, B, is moveable round a hinge at 
 C, and has attached to it an arm CD, from which the 
 weight E is suspended. With the point of a quill in- 
 flect the string into the position AGB, and let the string 
 then slip from the point. It will immediately fly towards 
 AFB, on each side of which it will vibrate, and at the 
 same time send forth sound. Here it is evident, that 
 neither the quill, nor the tension of the string, acts in 
 exciting sound, farther than as they are favourable to 
 the production of motion in the string ; for their action 
 produces no sound till, by the removal of the quill, the 
 tension is enabled actually to produce motion. Instead 
 of forcibly removing the string, a., in the former experi- 
 ment, raise the arm CD, so that the string may hang 
 loose in the form AHB, and then suddenly let go the 
 arm D ; in this case also the strmg will soimd, and give 
 
 exactly the same tone as in the former experiment. 
 These two modes of exciting sound arc similar in one 
 respect only. In botli the string is at freedom, in a 
 position from which it is moved l)y its tension ; and dur- 
 ing this motion it sounds. We conceive it would be 
 superfluous to adduce more proofs that motion is the 
 cause of sound, and that generally this motion is vibra- 
 tory ; we shall therefore proceed to consider the pro- 
 duction of sounds indued with peculiar qualities. 
 
 CHAP. 11. 
 
 Of the Production of Particul.\r Sounds. 
 Sect. I. General Remarkn. 
 
 The diff"erences in quality by which sounds are dis- 
 tinguished from each other, do not immediately depend 
 on corresponding differences in the nature of the bodies 
 from which the sounds issue ; fur, by various artifices, 
 we can procure, from bodies consisting of the same sub- 
 stance, sounds which shall differ in almost any respect 
 we choose. It is then by examining those artifices, and 
 investigating in what respects their mode of operation 
 can differ, or correspond, that the immediate causes of 
 the different qualities of sound can alone be discovered. 
 The circumstances which affect the sounds of bodies 
 are, their form, their magnitude, their density, the mode 
 by which they are excited, and the comparative force 
 of the power by which they vibrate. As these must 
 evidently affect the vibration of the sonorous bodies, the 
 above-mentioned investigation necessarily supposes, that 
 we trace in what manner the vibration of a body is chang- 
 ed by a variation in these circumstances. 
 
 This research, however, requiring a considerable ac- 
 quaintance with the higher analysis, we shall at present- 
 take for granted the results to which it leads ; referring 
 those readers who arc versant in mathematical inquiries 
 to the word Vibration, and to the authors quoted at 
 the end of this article. 
 
 Those philosophers who have investigated the vi- 
 brations of bodies, have arrived at the following con- 
 clusion, that whatever affects the vibration of a body 
 produces a corresponding effect on the qualities of the 
 sounds which it emits ; and, conversely, that those bo- 
 dies whose sounds are similar, have some thing in com- 
 mon in their mode of vibration ; — consequently the dif- 
 ferent qualities of sound are caused by something pe- 
 culiar in the vibration of the bodies by which the sounds 
 are produced. 
 
 All continued sounds, which remain in any degree 
 uniform throughout their duration, are capable of being 
 compared with each other in their degree of acuteness. 
 When sounds are equally acute, they are said to have 
 the same pitch ; but when they differ in acuteness, that 
 sound which is shriller is said to be acute, or to have a 
 higher pitch ; and that which is less shrill, is said to be 
 graver, and to have a lower pitch, or a deeper tone. A 
 difference in pitch forms the chief character by which 
 musical sounds are distinguished from each other, and 
 is the foundation of their use in music. In unmusical 
 sounds, it generally holds a place subordinate to their 
 other qualities. 
 
 Musical sounds have occupied the attention of phi- 
 losophers more than any other class of sounds. The 
 superior precision with which the ear can estimate any 
 variation in pitch, renders these sounds more easily com- 
 pared ; and the vibration of the sonorous bodies whieh 
 O 3
 
 108 
 
 ACOUSTICS. 
 
 produce thcni, arc, on iiccouni ol' their superior simplici- 
 ly of form, more easily investigated. 
 
 We have ah'cady mentioned, that the physical pro- 
 perties by which bodies vibrate are not always the same ; 
 some vibrating in consequence of their cohesion ; others 
 from a strong repidsion, which the particles exert on 
 each other, such as the different kinds of air ; and a third 
 tiass, such as the metals, being capable of vibrating, by 
 either of these forces, separately, or by the combined 
 action of both. 
 
 It is convenient to arrange the sonorous bodies, which 
 produce musical sounds, rather according to the powers 
 by which they actually vibrate at the time when under 
 our consideration, dividing them into the three following 
 classes, — those which vibrate by cohesion alone, — those 
 which vibrate by repulsion, — and those which vibrate by 
 the combined action of Ijoth. According to this mode of 
 division, the same body may successively appear under 
 each of these different classes. But as its mode of vibra- 
 tion and of sounding follows different laws, according to 
 the division in which for the time it appears, we may 
 consider it in each as a different sounding body. The 
 first class includes all bodies vibrating by tension, such 
 as musical strings, when vibrating laterally ; the second 
 class includes wind instruments, and the longitudinal 
 vibrations of rods, strings. Sec. ; and the third class com- 
 prehends the lateral vibrations of elastic rods, bells, 
 plates, rings, cylinders. Sec. 
 
 Sect. II. Of l^lunical Stringa. 
 
 A musical string is of an uniform thickness, and 
 stretched between two points, by a force much greater 
 than its weight. The stretching force which is applied, 
 is generally conceived as measured by the weight, which 
 would occasion an equal tension. In the usual mode of 
 exciting a musical string, it vibrates on each side of its 
 quiescent position, tlie extremities being the only points 
 of the string which remain at rest. The sound which the 
 string gives in this mode of vibration is called its funda- 
 mental sound. 
 
 The pitch of the fundamental sound of musical strings 
 is found by experience to depend on three circum- 
 stances ; the length of the string, the weight of a given 
 portion of it, and the force of tension to which it is sub- 
 jected. The tone becomes more acute as we increase 
 their tension, or diminish their length, and the weight of 
 a given portion. Thus the dimuuition of the length of 
 strings, and of the weight of equal portions, produce the 
 same effect upon their pitch as if we had increased the 
 force of tension. If strings, therefore, differ from ea^fi 
 other in arty two of these circumstances, we can, by a pro- 
 per adjustment of the tliird, produce from them sounds 
 whose pitch will be the same, or which shall differ in any 
 degree we choose. On this fact depend, for the most 
 part, the various modes of producing the several musical 
 sounds in stringed instruments. — These circumstances 
 also affect the time occupied by the vibration of an uni- 
 form string. 
 
 Let AFB vibrate between the points G and K, we call 
 its motion in one direction, from G to K, a single vibra- 
 tion ; and its motion in returning from K to G, another 
 single vibration ; and these two motions, which it per- 
 forms between the time when it leaves G and returns to 
 the same point, are, when taken together, called a dou- 
 ble vibration. 
 
 It has been demonstrated, that the time of a double 
 
 vibration, expressed \n parts of a second of time, will be 
 found by the following operation : Multiply the number 
 of inches described by a falling bouy in a seco..d ot" 
 time, that is 193 nearly, by the weigiit which is equal 
 to the force of tension ; and, by this product, divide the 
 weight of two inches of the string, extract the square 
 root of the quotient, and multiply the root thus found by 
 the length of the string in inches ; the result will be the 
 time of a double vibration expressed in parts of a second 
 of time. 
 
 Tiie same thing may be expressed moie conveniently 
 by an algebraic formula. Let L represent the length 
 of the string in inches ; w, the weight of an inch of the 
 string ; ^, a weight ccjuivalent to the force of tension ; 
 g, the number of inches through which a body falls in 
 a second of time, by the action of gravity ; and T, the 
 time of a double vibration expressed in seconds. Then 
 
 _. or T = L fc/ 
 
 ^ \9ot 
 
 T=- 
 
 >/ g t 
 
 As the distance of the string from its quiescent posi- 
 tion does not form an element of the algebraic expres- 
 sion, which is thus found for the time of a vibration, it 
 follows, that this time is hidependent of the distance, 
 and that a string performs each of its vibrations in equal 
 times, whether in these vibrations its excursions on each 
 side of the axis be great or small. So long, then, as the 
 string continues vibrating in the manner which pro- 
 duces its fundamental sound, its vibrations will be iso- 
 chronous. Upon this isochronism depends the unifor- 
 mity of its tone ; for, if we employ a string of unequal 
 thickness, and whose vibrations are consequently per- 
 formed in different tunes, the sound which we procure 
 is confused and variable; and any other mode by which 
 we destroy the isochronism produces a similar effect. 
 The same law has been found to extend to the other 
 cases of musical sounds being produced by vibration ; 
 and therefore we may conclude, that isochronism, in the 
 vibrations of sonorous bodies, is essential to their pro- 
 ducing musical sounds. 
 
 The number of vibrations performed by a string in a 
 second of time, is evidently the reciprocal value which 
 we have found for the time of one vibration ; so that if 
 N represent the number of vibrations, we shall have 
 this formula : 
 
 v/ T7' v/l93< 
 
 N =T — —=., or N =T 
 
 Lv'2' 
 
 'Lv/2 w 
 
 The frequency of vibration which this equation gives, 
 is found to agree very exactly with the result of expe- 
 riments performed with strings, whose vibrations are 
 so slow as to admit of being numbered. 
 
 The relation between the number of vibrations per- 
 formed by different strings, may be expressed by a 
 more simple foiTnula; for g and the number 2 being 
 both constant quantities, they may in this case be re- 
 jected, and we get the following proportional equa- 
 
 tion ; n- 
 
 s/ 
 
 L^- 
 
 According, then, as we diminish 
 
 the length of a string, and the weight of an inch of it, 
 or increase its tension, we increase its frequency of vi- 
 bration ; but equal changes in these circumstances do 
 not produce equal efi'ects. Thus, if in different strings, 
 their tension and the weight of an inch remain the same, 
 their frequency of vibration will be inversely as their
 
 •w 
 
 ACOUSTICS. 
 
 109 
 
 lengths, or n =- — ; so that if we make the length one- 
 third, we triple the number of vibrations : If the length 
 and tension remain the same, n = , or the ninnbcrof 
 
 V TO 
 
 vibrations is inversely proportional to the square roots 
 of the weights of equal lengths of the respective struigs ; 
 and if the length and the weight of equal portions be 
 the same, n -^ y';, or the frequency of vibration is as the 
 square roots of the tension to which tlie respective strings 
 are subjected; the efi'cct which each of these circum- 
 stances has in increasing the frequency of vibi'ation is 
 exactly proportional to its effect upon the pitch of the 
 string; for if we diminish the length of a string to one- 
 third, it would require I'ne weight of equal lengths of 
 tlie chord to be diminished to one-ninth, or the force 
 of tension to be increased nine times, to produce an 
 equivalent effect upon its pitch. As there is no other 
 conceivable mode in which the action of these circum- 
 stances can correspond to the changes they produce in 
 tlie pitch of a sonorous body, it is impossible to doubt 
 that the frequency of vibration is the cause on which 
 the pitch of sonorous bodies depends. 
 
 If, in the beginning of its vibration, a string has any 
 form ABC, wholly situated in one plane, and on one 
 side of its axis AC, it follows from theory, and accords 
 with observation, that at the end of a single vibiation it 
 will have assumed on the other side of its axis, a form 
 ADC, perfectly similar, but in an inverted position ; so 
 tliat the portion DC shall be equal and similar to BA, 
 and the portion DA to BC. The chord will consequent- 
 ly, at the end of a double or complete vibration, return 
 to its initial form ABC. 
 
 Every musical string is capable of viljrating laterally, 
 in a mode considerably different from that by which it 
 produces its fundamental sound. 
 
 Let a string, AE, have an initial form, AwBwCi/DrE, 
 of which equal and similar portions AwB, B/;C, CyD, 
 DrE,are on different sides of its axis, and let these por- 
 tions be arranged in such a manner as that, in any two 
 adjacent portions, their extremities, which meet in the 
 point of division between them, shall be similar to each 
 other: Thus, in the portions A;»B, and B»C, which meet 
 in the point B, let the extremities wB and «B be similar; 
 and in the portions B»C and C(/D, which meet in the 
 point C, let wC be similar to C7, and «B consequently si- 
 milar to cjQ ; and let the same law extend to all other 
 portions. 
 
 The several points in which the string cuts its axis 
 must remain at rest, and, at the end of a single vibration, 
 the string will have assumed the form A/BoC/iD.vE si- 
 milar to its initial form inverted; and, at the end of a 
 complete or double vibration, it will have returned to its 
 original position. For if we conceive the points, B, C, 
 D, to be fixed in their present position, by means of pins, 
 then it is evident that, as these equal and similar por- 
 tions, A»!B, BnC, C9D, DrE, begin theii- vibration at 
 the same instant of time, and in similar circumstances, 
 the changes which they may have sustained at any mo- 
 ment of time during the vibration will be exactly the 
 same. They will consequently remain similar through- 
 out the vibration, and at each instant of time solicit the 
 points of division between them with forces which are 
 equal, and in contrary direciions; these points of divi- 
 sion therefore will remain at rest, though the pins by 
 which they are fixed should be removed. The sounds 
 
 which a string gives when vibrating in this manner, arc 
 called its harmonics; the points of the string which re- 
 main at rest are named vibration nodes., ov fiointu oj' divi- 
 sion ; and the vibrating portions intercepted between 
 them are denominated bellies or loo/is. 
 
 It is hardly necessary to remark, that the whole string 
 performs its vibration in the same time with any of its 
 loops; and that the time occu])ied in performing a com- 
 plete vibration, will be found by considering any of the 
 loops as a separate string fixed at both extremities, and 
 applying to it the formula given above for llie fundamen- 
 tal vibration of strings. This application may be made in 
 the following manner: Let L lie the length of the whole 
 string, b the number of bellies or loops, then L divided 
 by 6, will be the length of each loop, which we may sub- 
 stitute in the formula instead of L ; by this substitution 
 we transform these formulae into the following : 
 
 '^VlTo 'W'^t ^-y/T" 
 
 T=- 
 
 Wis 
 
 "Lv/2. 
 
 These equations are very general in their application, 
 and evidently include those given for a string vibrathig 
 in its fundamental mode; for in that case b becomes i, 
 and totally disappears from the expressions. In com- 
 paring the number of vibrations performed in a given 
 time, by a string emitting its difle rent sounds, the quan- 
 tities, L, g, I, and to, becoming constant, may be re- 
 jected, and we get this proportional equation, n~b ; or 
 the number of vibrations performed by a given string 
 in a second of time, is proportional to the number of 
 loops in which the string vibrates : the harmonic sounds 
 of a chord should consequently be more acute than its 
 fundamental sound. 
 
 The complicated form which a chord assumes when 
 giving its harmonics, would lead us to suppose, that 
 such sounds could hardly ever be excited ; but this is by 
 no means the case, for harmonic sounds may be easily 
 produced by drawing a bow across the string AE, and 
 lightly touching the point of division D. In some mu- 
 sical instruments these are the only sounds employed ; 
 and in all such cases we can, by putting bits of paper on 
 the string, prove that the points of division are at rest 
 while the intervening portions are in motion. 
 
 A string has, in the foregoing remarks, been consi- 
 dered as producing, at a given time, but one simple 
 sound. This, however, is seldom the case, as sonorous 
 bodies, at the same time that they produce their funda- 
 mental, produce also one or more of its harmonics. For 
 such an accompaniment, it appears at first sight difficult 
 to assign a proper reason, as that vibration, which theory 
 attributes to the chord, seems fitted to produce only 
 one sound. 
 
 Philosophers have accordingly, in general, been dis- 
 posed to attribute the production of these hai'monics, to 
 something external to the vibrating string; some sup- 
 posing them produced in the transmission of the funda- 
 mental to the ear; some conceiving that they arise from 
 the peculiar structure of that organ ; others, as La Grange, 
 referring them to sympathetic vibrations in the different 
 bodies adjacent to the string. These different opinions, 
 however, are untenable ; for some bodies, such as a drink- 
 ing glass, when excited by rubbing a moistened finger 
 along its edge, or an jEolian lyre, when acted on bv the 
 wind, give exactly the same notes with a vibrating 
 string, but unaccom])anied with harmonics. Dr Tho- 
 mas Young has also found, that even in the same chord 
 it is not universally true, that the fundamental sound
 
 110 
 
 ACOUSTICS. 
 
 must ahvays be accompanied by all llic harmonics of 
 which the chord is susccplil)le ; for thul by inflecting 
 the chord exactly at any (joint in which the chord may 
 be divided into a luimoer ol ctjual parts, and llien suf- 
 ferinir it to vibrate, we lose the uflectoi' tlie correspond- 
 ing harmonic. The just inference Irom this is, that the 
 production ol' the liinuaniciital in conjunction with its 
 harmonics, depends neither upon any ming in the trans- 
 mission of the sound, nor upon the peculiar structure ol 
 the car, nor upon any agitation of the surrounding bo- 
 dies, but rather upon the manner in which the string vi- 
 brates. One of the simplest modes in which we can 
 conceive harmonics, produced by the peculiar manner in 
 which the siring vibrates, is by supposing (agreeably to 
 the theory of Daniel Bernoulli, which \vc have already 
 mentioned) that while the whole of tlie string, ABCDE, 
 vibrates on each side of its axis AE, producing its fun- 
 damental sound, it serves as a moveable axis to partial 
 vibrations of its aliquot parts AB, BC, CD, DE, in the 
 same plane with it, producing the corresponding harmo- 
 nic. That a string can, in some measure, assume such 
 a mode of vibration, is shown by professor Robison ; who, 
 in some experiments with the covered string of a vio- 
 lincello, sounding by the friction of an ivoiy wheel, 
 found, that if he "put somethhig soft, such as a lock of 
 cotton, in the way of the wide vibrations of the chord, at 
 one-third and two-thirds of its length, so as to disturb 
 them when they became very wide, the string instantly 
 put on an appearance something similar to I"ig. 3, per- 
 forming at once the full vibration competent to its whole 
 length, and the three subordinate vibrations, correspond- 
 ing to one -third of its length, and sounding the funda- 
 mental and the 12th with equal strength. In this man- 
 ner all the different accompaniments were produced at 
 pleasure." 
 
 These experiments show, that harmonics may be pro- 
 duced in the manner supposed by Bernoulli; but to de- 
 termine whether this be the usual mode of their produc- 
 tion, by a string vibrating freely, requires that we trace 
 the actual motion of the string. Dr Thomas Young is, 
 we believe, the only philosopher who has attempted this 
 with any success. He observed, by a microscopic in- 
 spection of any luminous point on the surface of a chord, 
 for instance the reflection of a candle in the coil of a fine 
 wire wound round it, that the vibration of a chord de- 
 viates from the plane of its first direction, and becomes 
 a rotation or revolution, which may be considered as 
 composed of various vibrations in different planes ; and 
 that besides these vibrations of the whole chord, it is 
 also frequently agitated by subordinate vibrations, which 
 constitute harmonic notes of difierent kinds. It is to be 
 much regretted, that the other avocations of that inge- 
 nious gentleman have prevented his prosecuting these 
 observations, so as to refer each separate harmonic to 
 the particular subordinate vibrations on which it de- 
 pends, and trace the peculiar mode of division which 
 the chord sustains, in assuming each particular vibra- 
 tion. Yet we conceive that we do not transgress the 
 due bounds of philosophic caution, in considering these 
 observations, combined with the experiments of profes- 
 sor Robison, as sufficient proolthat the harmonics which 
 accompany the fundamental sound of a string, are occa- 
 sioned by the fundamental vibration of the string being 
 combined with subordinate vibrations of its aliqu'ot parts, 
 either in the same or in different planes. There are 
 several sources from which these partial vibrations may 
 be supposed to originate, such as inequalities in the 
 
 thickness of the chord, or in the density or flexibility of 
 its difl'erent parts, and also the particular mode of exci- 
 tation which has been employed in producing the fun- 
 damental sound. All tliese causes are pronably com- 
 bined in the production ol theefl'ect; but we know little 
 respecting the particular operation ol each of them, and 
 still less concerning the general result of their combined 
 action. 
 
 Surfaces in a state of tension, such as the top of a 
 drum, the tambourine, kc. may perhaps be considered 
 as included under this division of the sources of musical 
 sounds. Their mode of vibration, however, is little un- 
 derstood, and, we conceive, not very interesting. 
 
 Sect. III. Of Musical Bodies vibrating by ReJiuUion. 
 
 The sonorous bodies which lately passed under our 
 review, produce sound by vibrating laterally on each 
 side of a fixed axis. Those which we are now to con- 
 sider, perform their vibrations longitudinally, or in the 
 direction of their length. 
 
 Wind instruments constitute one of the genera of this 
 class, and though the air which vibrates in all of them 
 is the same, yet they admit of such a variety in their 
 form, and derive such different characters from this va- 
 riety, that they may be regarded as a genus not less ex- 
 tensive and important than the class of bodies which 
 vibrate by tension. The longitudinal vibration of clastic 
 fluids accordingly soon attracted the attention of philo- 
 sophers, and several interesting facts were discovered ; 
 but it must be owned, that this subject is still imper- 
 fectly uiKlerstood, and that many of the phenomena have 
 not yet received a proper explanation. 
 
 We are indebted to Mr Chladni of Wirtemberg for 
 the important discovery, that elastic solids, and even 
 strings in a state of tension, arc also capable of vibrat- 
 ing longitudinally ; and in this mode ol vibration obey 
 the same laws with elastic fluids. It is almost certain, 
 though die experiment is encompassed with such diffi- 
 culties as never to have been tried, that those fluids 
 which are usually called non-elastic, admit of similar 
 vibrations. Thus, the class of musical bodies vibrating 
 longitudinally, is not only more diversified in its powers 
 than the other classes into which we have divided sound- 
 ing bodies, but also more extensive in the range of sub- 
 stances which it comprehends. An uniform rod of any 
 solid substance, or a column of air contained in a cylin- 
 drical tube, whose diameter is everywhere equal, may 
 have its vibration limited at both extremities by an im- 
 moveable obstacle ; or both extremities may be at liber- 
 ty ; or one extremity may be confined, and the other 
 disengaged. Though philosophers are by no means 
 unanimous in their opinions with regard to the mode in 
 which the vibration is produced and maintained in each 
 of these cases, they uniformly agree in concluding, that 
 a column of air, or a rod of any substance, if either con- 
 fined, or free at both extremities, performs a double 
 vibration in the same time that a minute impulse would 
 occupy when travelling in a medium of the substance 
 through twice the length of the sonorous body ; and 
 that in a body fixed at one extremity only, it will occu- 
 py double that time. It therefore becomes of importance 
 to consider what are the velocities with which an impulse 
 can be transmitted through different media. 
 
 Let 1° be the elasticity of the medium measured by a 
 weight, whose pressure on a square inch of the medium 
 would counterbalance the elasticity, /i the weight of a 
 solid inch of \vater,s the specific gravity of the medium,
 
 ACOUSTICS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 5- the number ol inches through which a heavy body falls 
 in the first second of eime. Tiien 11, wiien tlie nicdiuni 
 is compressed suddenly uUo less space, its ciasticuy at 
 the moment ot compression uicreases in the same pro- 
 portion with its density, it may be demonstrated liiat v, 
 the number of inches tlirough which a minute impulse 
 
 will be conveyed in a second of time, is V =:^_£^, and 
 
 by rejecting the constant quantities 2 ^ and/;, wc get this 
 proportional equation V 4= ^ _L_ 
 
 This equation, or one equivalent to it, is in general, 
 the only one mat is given on this subject by the ele- 
 mentary writers. But as it is founcied on the hypo- 
 thesis, tliat during the transmission ol an impulse, the 
 momentary elasticity of any medium increases in the 
 same ratio witii the condensation to whicn it is subject- 
 ed, it can be applied to those cases alone in which this 
 hypothesis holds true. Such cases never occur in na- 
 ture ; lor m every hody with whicli wc are actiuainted, 
 condensation produces an elevation ot temperature, and 
 an elevation of temperature always occasions an increase 
 of elasticity ; consequently during the condensation sus- 
 tained in transmitting any minute impulse, the elasticity 
 of the medium increases more rapidly than its density. 
 
 The simplest and most probable hypothesis which we 
 can form concerning the relation between the density 
 and corresponding elasticity of a given medium, is, that 
 the latter is proportional to some power of the former. 
 Let m be the exponent of that power, and let the density 
 of the medium previous to receiving the impulse, be con- 
 sidered as unity. Then V = . / ~ ' ^' '" . Similar formu- 
 
 Ise might be given for several other functions, which the 
 elasticity might be supposed to be of the density ; but 
 the number of such hypotheses is unlimited. From this 
 
 formula we deduce the following V — ■/ '^ '" •. conse- 
 
 s 
 quently in the same medium, when of the same specific 
 gravity and temperature, every impulse should be trans- 
 mitted with the same uniform velocity during the whole 
 of its progress. If therefore L represent the length of 
 a body vibrating longitudinally, and having its ends in 
 similar circumstances, either both fixed, or both free, 
 
 the time of a double vibration will be T = — ■p ; 
 
 v2cgm 
 
 and consequently the number of such vibrations in a 
 second of time will be N — '^ ^ ^ g ?" . 
 
 Similar equations may be procured for an uniform 
 elastic rod, or a column of air fixed at one extremity 
 and free at the other, by substituting 4 L instead of 
 2 L in the foregoing equations. Unfortunately we can- 
 not, by these equations alone, determine the number of 
 vibrations performed in a second by a given body ; for 
 the elasticity of solid bodies is so immense, that we can- 
 not well employ compressing forces sufficiently power- 
 ful to determine its quantity, or the laws which it fol- 
 lows ; and the several kinds of air with whose elasticity 
 we are better acquainted, seem to preserve themselves 
 distinct from the surrounding atmosphere, for some dis- 
 tance beyond the tube though which they pass; so that, 
 with respect to them, we cannot, with sufficient preci- 
 sion, determine the length of the vibrating body. 
 
 We are not, however, to consider these equations as 
 ol no service ; for by converting them into proportional 
 equations, wc may derive from them very important in- 
 formation. By comparing the ctiuations for a' vibrating 
 body, free at both extremities, and for a vibrating body 
 of half its length, fixed at one extremity and free at the 
 other, we find that each performs an equal number of 
 vibrations. We may therefore only consider the equa- 
 tion for a body having both its extremities in the same 
 circumstances. From this ecjuation, we procure this ge- 
 neral proportional equation N==^_f_!!i.. 
 
 If wc now suppose e, m, and s, constant, we Iiave ?; = 
 
 ^ 1 
 
 If Z, ?«, and e, be constant 
 If L, m, and s, be constant 
 If L, ,s, and e, be constant 
 
 V 
 
 If L and m be constant 
 
 Prom these equations we may deduce the following 
 general conclusions concerning bodies vibrating longi- 
 tudinally. The number of vibrations performed in a se- 
 cond of time by a given body is the same whether that 
 body be fixed at both extremities, or free at both ; and 
 therelore its sound in these two cases should be the 
 same. But if the body be fixed at one extremity, and 
 free at the other, its length must be reduced to one half, 
 to make it give the same tone as in the two former cases. 
 This is found also agreeable to experience ; for if we 
 blow into a tube closed at one extremity, it will give the 
 same tone which we procure by blowing into an open 
 tube of double the length. The different pitch of bo- 
 dies vibrating longitudinally, and free at both extremities, 
 depends on lour circumstances, viz. their elasticity, the 
 temporary rate at which their elasticity is increased by 
 condensation, their length, and their specific gravity ; 
 the tone of any body being more acute, according as the 
 elasticity, and the rate of its increase by condensation, 
 are greater, or the length and specific gravity less. 
 These circumstances, however, should not affect the 
 sound in the same degree : thus it would require the 
 specific gravity to be reduced to one-fourth, or the elas- 
 ticity, or m, the index of the power of the density to 
 which the temporary elasticity is proportional, to be qua- 
 drupled, in order to have the same effect which a dimi- 
 nution of its length to one-half would produce. 
 
 The length of the sonorous body is almost exclusively 
 the only one of these circumstances which we have com- 
 pletely in our power. We can vary the others only in- 
 directly, and in a limited degree, by means of pressure, 
 or a change of temperature. 
 
 If several bodies of the same substance be subjected 
 to the same degree of pressure and temperature, the 
 frequency of their vibrations should be inversely as theii- 
 lengths ; that is, if any of them be only half the length 
 of another, its number of vibrations should be double 
 the number performed in the same time by the longer 
 body. The sounds emitted l)y such bodies are found to 
 be such as exactly correspond to this difference in the 
 number of their vibrations. If therefore we determine 
 this number for any given length of a body, by com.par- 
 ing its sound with that of a string vibrating laterally,
 
 112 
 
 ACOUSTICS. 
 
 MX can ciisily liiul llic miiubei- corrcbponding loany oilier 
 Icnglli of tlic same body, whilst exposed lo the same 
 pressui-e and tmipeiature. 
 
 Ill solid bodies tuis detcmiination is easy, but in wind 
 iiisliunients it is extremely diflieult ; lor in these, as 
 we lorinerly mentioned, tne column ot air which forms 
 the vibrating body is not linated Ijy the tube through 
 which it passes, but seems to extend to some distance 
 beyond it. Therelore, lo tiiul the real length ot the so- 
 norous body, we must add tnis distance lo che lengtn of 
 the lube ; and likewise make a small addition, on account 
 of the moulh-piecc of the instrument. These correc- 
 tions are probably tne same lor clitterent lengths of the 
 same tube, when blown with the same force ; but must 
 vary as we change the diameter of the tube, or the 
 strength of the blast, &c. The rate of this variation 
 has not bten well asceriained ; but since, by increasing 
 the diameter of a tube, we flatten its tone in a small de- 
 gree, this correction must increase somewhat with the 
 diameter. This result we would naturally expect, from 
 considering that a slender column ol air, moving with a 
 certain velocity, must lose itself in the surrounding at- 
 mosphere sooner than one of a greater diameter. 
 
 As an increase ol temperature generally uicreases the 
 repulsion between the particles of bodies, it must either 
 increase their elasticity, or diminish their specific gra- 
 vity, and consequently produce corresponding ehects 
 upon their tone. The length of a vibrating column of 
 air is determined by the length of the tube through 
 which the air passes, and its elasticity by the pressure of 
 the atmosphere ; therefore, in estimating the effects of 
 heat upon the vibration of such a column, the length and 
 elasticity may be considered as constant quantities. The 
 change which can be produced in m, by any moderate 
 increase of temperature, is so small, that it may also be 
 viewed in the same light ; consequently the number of 
 the vibrations which the same column of air perfonns at 
 different temperatures, should be inversely proportional 
 to the square roots of the specific gravities of the air at 
 those temperatures ; and thus the frequency of vibra- 
 tion increased about -Jj, by an elevation of 30 degrees of 
 Fahrenheit's thermometer. 
 
 The effect which this change in the frequency of vi- 
 bration produces on the pitch of wind instruments, is so 
 considerable, that Dr Smith found his organ a full quar- 
 ter of a tone higher in summer than in winter; flutes 
 likewise, and other instruments blown by the mouth, 
 gradually become more acute as the included air is 
 heated by the breath. 
 
 Mr Dalton, in his experiments upon the different 
 elastic fluids, found, that they all expand in the same 
 degree, with the same increase of temperature. The 
 frequency of vibration therefore should, in all elastic 
 fluids, be increased nearly y'j, by an elevation of 30 de- 
 grees of temperature. From this, and other similari- 
 ties in the nature of these fluids, we may consider them 
 as differing from each other only in their density ; and 
 therefore the number of their viljrations will vary in the 
 inverse subduplicate ratio of these densities. In the 
 experiments performed by Dr Chladni on the tones of an 
 organ-pipe in diflcrent gases, the sound of carbonic acid 
 gas, nitrous gas, and oxygen gas, agrees with this theo- 
 ry ; but azote and hydrogen gas give a note considerably 
 lower than what we should infer from calculation. Hence 
 we must suspend oiw judgment with respect to the vi- 
 bration of these two latter fluids, till future experiments 
 niav enable us to determine whether the results differ 
 
 from theory in consequence of any inaccuracy in the mode 
 of perlormiiig the experiment, or from some peculiarity 
 in Uie nature ol these fluids. 
 
 Variations in the barometer can produce very slight 
 efl'ects on the sound of a column of air ; for as we in- 
 crease the pressure on an elastic fluid, its density and 
 elasticity increase at nearly the same rate. Sulzer, and 
 professor Robison, have indeed shown, that in dry air 
 the densities increase a little faster than the elasticities, 
 and in moist air a little slower ; but by an experiment of 
 the academicians del Cimento, the effect which this 
 irregularity has upon the sound of a wind instrument, 
 seems too minute to be appreciated by the ear. They 
 inclosed an organ-pipe in the receiver of an air-pump, 
 and also of a condenser ; and they found that as long as 
 the sound was audible, its pitch remained unchanged. 
 
 We are unable to say what effect heat or pressure 
 should have upon the sound of solid bodies, but withhi 
 moderate limits it is probably trifling ; and as we have 
 not in general the necessary data for determining the 
 frequency of their vibration, we must in this cast trust 
 chiefly to experiment. Dr Chladni, who first disco- 
 vered the longitudinal vibrations of solids, found, that 
 the tones of these bodies are exceedingly acute. Thus 
 die tone of a rod of tin is about two octaves and a large 
 seventh higher than that of a column of air in an open 
 pipe of the same length ; one of silver, three octaves 
 and a whole lone ; one of copper, nearly three octaves 
 and a fifth ; and iron and glass, about lour octaves. The 
 same philosopher discovered, that a string can vibrate 
 longitudinally, exactly as a rod fastened at both ends ; 
 and that its tones are exceedingly high, in comparison 
 of those which it gives by vibrating laterally. In this 
 mode of vibration, the pitch in no degree depends on 
 the thickness or tension of the string, but rather on the 
 nature of its substance. 
 
 Bodies vibrating longitudinally, resemble musical 
 strings, in producing beside their fundamental, several 
 successive harmonic sounds. The different modes oi 
 vibration which solid bodies assume in producing these 
 sounds, have been accurately traced by Dr Chladni. 
 When a rod, free at both extremities, and vibrating lon- 
 gitirdinally, produces its fundamental sound, we may, 
 by strewing it with sand, or by laying light bodies upon 
 its surface, perceive, that there is a certain point in the 
 middle which remains at rest, and at which the vibra- 
 tion of each half stops. In its second mode of vibration, 
 it vibrates like two rods free at both extremities, each 
 of half the length of the original rod; so that there ai-c 
 two points at rest, each one-fourth distant from tlie ex- 
 tremities of the rod. In its tliird mode of vibration, it 
 divides itself in a similar manner, so that it has three 
 points at rest. The sounds thus produced, including 
 the fundamental sounds, correspond in the frequency of 
 their vibrations to the natural numbers, 1,2, S, kc. 
 
 A rod fixed at both ends, or a string stretched be- 
 tween two pins, vibrates along its whole length, when 
 producing its fundamental sound; and in giving its sub- 
 ordinate sounds, divides itself into two or more parts, 
 each of which vibrates in a n:anner similar to the whole. 
 These sounds have to each other the same relation with 
 the harmonics of a rod free at both extremities, or of a 
 stretched string vibrating laterally. A rod fixed at one 
 extremity, and free at the other, may be considered as 
 forming one half of a rod free at both extremities, and 
 vibrating according to those modes in which the middle 
 point of the longer rod is quiescent. Its harmonics are
 
 ACOUSTICS. 
 
 11^ 
 
 accoi'dmgly as the series of odd numbers, 3, 5, 7, 
 Sec. 
 
 These experiments throw considerable light upon the 
 manner in wliich sound is generated in wind instru- 
 ments. We have already mentioned, that the i'unda- 
 mental sounds of a tube, open at both extremities, and 
 of a tube shut at one exremity and open at the other, 
 bear the same relation to each other with the sounds of 
 a rod free at both extremities, and of a rod fixed at one 
 extremity and free at the other. A similar analogy 
 holds in the secondary soimds, which are produced by 
 these bodies. Thus, by blowing across the extremity 
 of an open tube, we can produce, not only its fundamen- 
 tal sound, but also, by varying the force of the blast, we 
 can excite a series of sounds related to each other in 
 the same manner with those produced from a rod free 
 at both extremities; and, from a tube shut at one end 
 and open at the other, we can procure only those sounds 
 which correspond to the series of uneven numbers. 
 From these analogies, we may safely infer, that the vi- 
 brations in a colimui of air, confined in a tube, are con- 
 stituted in a manner exactly similar to those which take 
 place in a rod vibrating longitudinally. 
 
 In order to confirm this opinion by experiment, we 
 may remark, that any quiescent point of a vibrating body 
 n\tist, at each instant during the vibration, be acted upon 
 by equal and contrary forces, for it could not, on any 
 other supposition, remain at rest ; and that consequently 
 the adjacent vibrating portions, which are on different 
 sides of it, must, at any time, be either both pressing 
 towards it, or both moving from it. The parts imme- 
 diately adjace]it to a quiescent point are therefore at 
 one time highly condensed by the vibrating portions on 
 different sides of it rushing towards each other; and at 
 another time, highly rarefied by these portions moving 
 off from it in contrary directions. 
 
 We may prove the existence of such rarefactions and 
 condensations in the column of air contained in a tube, 
 by boring small holes in different parts of the tube, and 
 slightly pasting fine membranes over them ; tlie mem- 
 branes which are adjacent to the quiescent points, will 
 be violently agitated, and those, which are more distant, 
 very slightly affected. 
 
 Sect. IV. Of Sonorous Bodies -vibrating laterally by the 
 combined Jlction of their Cohesion and Elasticity. 
 
 The vibrations of this class of sonorous bodies have 
 occupied the attention of several eminent mathemati- 
 cians ; but the difficulty of the subject is so great, as to 
 have prevented them from making much progress in 
 their investigations. 
 
 The sounds produced by rods, vibrating laterally in 
 different circmnstances, seldom admit of being com- 
 pared with each other. But the times occupied by simi- 
 lar vibrations of rods, in similar circumstances, are di- 
 rectly as the squares of their lengths, and inversely as 
 their diameters. The vibrations of plates are still more 
 complicated than those of rods. Dr Chladni has con- 
 trived to trace these vibrations through singular varie- 
 ties, by strewing the plates with sand, which collects it- 
 self into such places as ar*at rest during the vibrations. 
 Some of the fia^ures which the sand thus assumes, are 
 represented in Fig. 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, Plate II. 
 
 We know very little more concerning the vibration 
 of rings and cylinders, than that they sometimes divide 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 themselves into four vibrating parts, sometimes into six, 
 and sometimes into eight. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Of the PRorAGATiox f)/' Sound. 
 
 In an open space, and through a serene atmosphere, 
 sound is generally propagated, in all directions, from the 
 sonorous body. Sounds, even the most powerful, when 
 thus transmitted fi-eely through the air, diminish rapidly 
 in force, as they depart from their sources, and, within 
 moderate distances, wholly die away. What law this 
 diminution follows is not yet ascertained ; and is indeed, 
 in the present state of Acoustics, incapable of determi- 
 nation. We can at present estimate the force of soimds 
 by the ear alone ; an instrument of comparison, whose 
 decisions on this point vary with the bodily state of the 
 observer, and whose scale expresses no definite relation 
 but that of equality. 
 
 Though sound has in general, at its origin, a tendency 
 to diffuse itself in all directions, it is sometimes propa- 
 gated more forcibly in one direction than in others. A 
 cannon seems inuch louder to those kvho stand imme- 
 diately before it, than to those who are placed behind it. 
 The same fact is illustrated by the speaking-trumpet; 
 the person towards whom the uistrument is directed 
 hears distinctly the words spoken through it, while 
 those who are situated a little to one side hardly per- 
 ceive any sound. 
 
 Sound is, in a great measure, intercepted by the in- 
 tervention of any solid obstacle between the hearer and 
 the sonorous body. Thus, if, whilst a bell is sounding, 
 houses intervene between us and the bell, we hear it 
 sound but faintly, compared to what we do after having 
 turned the corner of the building. From this fact, sound 
 would seem to be chiefly propagated in straight lines. 
 If, however, we speak through a tube, the voice will be 
 wholly confined by the tube, and follow its windings, 
 however tortuous ; yet we are not from this to infer, 
 that air is the only medium through which sound can 
 be transmitted. Various other bodies, both solid and 
 fluid, are excellent conductors of sound. 
 
 If a log of wood is scratched at one extremity with a 
 pin, a person who applies his ear to the other end will 
 hear the sound distinctly. The trampling of horses, too, 
 is heard at a much greater distance, by applying the ear 
 to the ground, than by listening to the sound conveyed 
 through the atmosphere. Several other instances of 
 sound being transmitted through solids, will be men- 
 tioned before the conclusion of this article. Liquids 
 are, in like manner, good conductors of sound. Mr W. 
 Arderon caused three persons to dive under water about 
 the depth of two feet; in that situation they heard dis- 
 tinctly what he spoke to them. We are informed by- 
 professor Robison, that, by plunging his head underwa- 
 ter, he heard at the distance of 1200 feet, the sound of 
 a bell which was rung in the same medium. The cause 
 then why sound is interrupted by the interposition of 
 solid bodies, is not that the body so interposed is inca- 
 pable of conducting sound, but that sound does not rea- 
 dily pass from one medium to another. 
 
 When a piece of ordnance is fired at the distance of 
 some miles, a certain numlier of seconds intervene be- 
 tween seeing the flash and hearing the report ; the 
 sound of the cannon has therefore occupied this iium ••
 
 114 
 
 ACOUSTICS. 
 
 her of seconds in travelling through that distance. Phi- 
 losophers have endeavoured, by an attentive observation 
 of such facts, to deteniiine the rate at which sound tra- 
 vels througii the air. The mean result of these obser- 
 vations gives to all sounds, whether loud or weak, a ve- 
 locity of about 1130 feet in a second of time. This 
 velocity remains unchanged by those variations in the 
 density of the atmosphere wiiich the barometer indi- 
 cates, but is increased by an elevation of temperature. 
 The time which elapses during the transmission of 
 sound to any moderate distance through solid bodies, is 
 so minute as not to have been ascertained by any direct 
 experiments. 
 
 We are here naturally led to inquire, in what mode 
 sound is propagated through various media, and what 
 takes place in these media during its transmission. Be- 
 fore we enter on this discussion, let us trace the mecha- 
 nical effect which the vibration of sonorous bodies must 
 produce on tlie surrounding atmosphere. Let the string 
 AFB be supposed, as formerly to vibrate from G to K, it 
 is evident that, in this vibration, it must displace all the 
 air between these two points, impelling it towards K, 
 and, by the action of this impulse, condensing it. The 
 air thus displaced must communicate its motion and con- 
 densation to an adjacent portion; and this second por- 
 tion will act in a similar manner upon a third, and the 
 third upon a fourth, and so on gradually, transferring the 
 impulse and condensation from the nearer to the more 
 remote regions of the atmosphere. While this impulse 
 and condensation are propagated in all directions, the 
 string by vibrating back from K to G, produces a rare- 
 faction in the air adjacent to K. This rarefaction is now 
 communicated through the atmosphere in the same di- 
 rection with the condensation: and, in a similar manner, 
 u counter vibration of the chord produces another con- 
 densation, which is again succeeded by a corresponding 
 rarefaction ; so that as long as the string continues to 
 vibrate, there are successive condensations and rarefac- 
 tions propagated from it in the direction KM, and cor- 
 responding ones in the direction GL. The manner in 
 which these undulations take place may be tolerably 
 well conceived, by considering them as having some re- 
 semblance to the elevations and depressions of the con- 
 centric waves, generated by throwing a stone upon a 
 smooth sheet of water. 
 
 The facts which might be adduced to prove that an 
 impulse is communicated through the air by sounding 
 bodies, are innumerable. The agitation which the ex- 
 plosions of artillery produce in doors and windows is fa- 
 miliar to the most inattentive observer. Any person who 
 has listen.ed to the sound of an organ, must have per- 
 ceived, that when the instrument was giving its deeper 
 tones, the seat on which he was placed vibrated. The 
 same fact is illustrated with respect to weaker sounds, 
 by the discovery of Dr Wallis, that if near a stretched 
 musical string we sound on any instrument a note in ac- 
 cord with that of the string, the string will vibrate and 
 give the same soiuid. 
 
 There are striking analogies between the transmis- 
 sion of an impulse, and the propagation of sound through 
 various media; those bodies which are best adapted for 
 the transmission of an impulse, being also the best con- 
 ductors of sound. Thus, air, wood, the metals. Sec. con- 
 vey sound powerfully, and to considerable distances ; 
 while it can scarcely be propagated through a few inches 
 "f cork, and various other substances. The jntensitv of 
 
 the sound transmitted from a sonorous body through the 
 same medium also varies acconling as the lorcc of im- 
 pulse which the sonorous bouy can impress upon it 
 changes : Thus sounds are much louder in valleys, 
 where the air is dense, and can receive a stronger im- 
 pulse than on high mountains, where it is rarer. 
 
 If an impulse, or undulation, be communicated through 
 E, a less elastic medium, to AB, the surtace ol one 
 which is more elastic, it will be partially transmitted, 
 and partially reflected ; so that there will be two series 
 of undulations proceeding from AB, the anterior surtace 
 of the more elastic medium ; one througn that meamni 
 G, and another through E, the rarer one ; each of which 
 has a weaker impulse than the orighial undulation. If, 
 again, the second medium be terminated by a third 
 medium H, similar to the first, the undulations which 
 have been transmitted through the second medium G 
 will, in the transition from it to the third, be again par- 
 tially reflected, and partially transmitted : so that in this 
 case also there will be two series of undulations pro- 
 ceeding from the posterior surface of thedenser medium, 
 one of them reflected back into G, and one transmitted 
 into PI ; each having a less force of impulsion than the 
 inidulation In the denser medium, by which they were 
 generated. A similar phenomenon takes place with re- 
 spect to sound. Thus a person, speaking in a large 
 room, perceives the sound of his voice reflected by the 
 sides of the room ; while one placed on the other side of 
 the partition also hears the sound, but much weaker, 
 than if the partition did not intervene. When the diflfci - 
 encc between the two media is veiy great, the undula- 
 tion must be almost wholly reflected ; and in such cases 
 the sound is also chiefly reflected. 
 
 The velocity with which sound is propagated through 
 different media, observes a similar analogy. 
 
 By employing the formula which is given in Chap. III. 
 Sect. III. and substituting for ?n the value which may 
 be derived from some of Mr Dalton's experiments, the 
 mean velocity with which an impulse can be transmitted 
 through the atmosphere, will be found to differ but little 
 from that with which sound is propagated through the 
 same medium. Observation shows a coincidence be- 
 tween them still more complete. If, when artillery is 
 fired at a distance, the particles of dust which float in a 
 sun-beam are inspected with a microscope, they will be 
 seen agitated at the same instant that we hear the explo- 
 sion ; and we are informed, by a literary gentleman, that 
 he has observed similar agitations in cobwebs. The 
 impulse by which these bodies are thus affected, must 
 therefore be propagated through the air with a velocity 
 exactly equal to that of sound. The same coincidence 
 cannot be exactly traced in solids, as these bodies trans- 
 mit both sound and an impulse with such celerity, that 
 the time which elapses during the transmission of either 
 has not yet been estimated. In order to complete this 
 analogy, it is only required that w^e should be able to 
 prevent the transmission of an impulse without changing 
 the physical properties of the medium. This we can do 
 in one case only : Let a person draw a string tight over 
 his ears, and let another stretch the string, and suspend 
 a watch to the remote end of it, the sound of the watch 
 will be heard by the person over whose ears the string 
 passes ; if now the string be gradually relaxed, the 
 sound becomes by degrees weaker, and ultimately im- 
 perceptible. 
 
 From these analogies we must conclude, that the pro-
 
 ACorsTics. 
 
 11 V 
 
 pagation of sound depends entirely on the transmission 
 of an impulse which sounding bodies communicate to 
 the surrounding medium. 
 
 Most writers on Acoustics draw the same inference 
 from the weakness of the sound which a bell emits when 
 struck, in an exhausted receiver, and from its strength 
 in condensed air. Such experiments, though generally 
 considered as decisive, appear to us to admit of two ex- 
 planations, and to be far from satisfactory. We have 
 tliereforc had recourse to other means of establishing 
 our conclusion. 
 
 Tabh of Observalicns by different Philosophers on the 
 Velocities of Sound in, common Air, 
 
 I'eet per Feet per 
 
 second. second. 
 
 Cassini, and others, 1 172 
 1 300 Derham, during day, 1143 
 
 Bianconi, .... 903 
 1260 Cassini .1107 
 
 Roberts, Phil. Trans. 
 n. 209, .... 
 
 Boyle, Essay on Mo- 
 tion, 
 
 Walker, . . . 
 
 Mersennus, 
 Flamstcad, & Halley, 
 Florentine Academi- 
 cians, .... 
 
 5 1150 Meyer, 1105 
 
 ^1526'Muller, 1109 
 
 U74Pictet, 1130 
 
 1 142 French Academicians, 
 
 1148 
 
 at night, 
 
 1109 
 
 By comparing such of the foregoing observations as 
 seem to have been conducted with most care, wc procure 
 1 130 feet per second, as the mean velocity of sound m 
 the atmospheric air. 
 
 As the time occupied by a rod free at both extremi- 
 ties, in performing a double longitudinal vibration, is 
 equal to that which elapses during the transmission of an 
 impulse through twice the length of the rod ; the cele- 
 rity with which sound is transmitted through different 
 substances, may be easily calculated from the number of 
 vibrations which given rods oi tliese substances perform 
 in a second of time. The same calculation may also be 
 founded on experiments respecting the elasticity of any 
 substance ; but this latter mode is more liable to error 
 than the former. It is, however, the only one we can 
 employ to discover the velocity with which sound is pro- 
 jjagated through liquids. From such calculations the 
 numbers in the following Table have been determined. 
 
 Table of the Velocities of Sound. 
 
 Media. 
 
 Feet per 
 
 Media. 
 
 Feet per 
 
 
 second. 
 
 
 second. 
 
 Common air. 
 
 1130 
 
 Copper, 
 
 12,500 
 
 Hydrogen, 
 
 3899 
 
 Iron, 
 
 17,500 
 
 Oxygen, 
 
 1064 
 
 Glass, 
 
 17,500 
 
 Nitrogen, 
 
 1149 
 
 Crown glass. 
 
 17,700 
 
 Carbonic acid, 
 
 922 
 
 Brass, 
 
 11,800 
 
 Mercury, 
 Water, 
 Spirit of wine. 
 
 4900 
 
 
 
 4900 
 4900 
 
 Tobacco pipes, 
 
 5 10,000 
 i 12,000 
 
 Tin, 
 
 7800 
 
 
 C 11,000 
 
 Silver, 
 
 9300 
 
 Wood, 
 
 I 12,000 
 
 We usually hear sounds by their being conveyed to 
 the interior parts of the car through the external aper- 
 ture of that organ. It has, however, been long known, 
 
 that we can hear the sound of a tuning-fork, or any 
 other sonorous body, in several other modes, such as by 
 holding it between the teeth. The following extract 
 from Dr Chladni, who has performed the greatest num- 
 ber of experiments relative to this subject, may bo in- 
 teresting to the reader. " Two persons," says the doc- 
 tor, " who had slopped their cars, could converse with 
 each other, when they held along stick, or a series ol 
 sticks, between their teeth, or rested their teeth against 
 them. It is all the same, whether the person who speaks 
 rests the stick against his throat or his breast ; or when 
 one rests the stick which he holds in his teeth against 
 some vessel into which the other speaks. The effect 
 will be the greater the more the vessel is capable of a 
 tremulous motion. It appeared to be strongest with 
 glass and porcelain vessels ; with copper kettles, wooden 
 boxes, and earthen pots, it was weaker. Sticks of glass, 
 and next to these firwood, conducted the sound best. 
 The sound could also be heard when a thread was held 
 between the teeth by both, so as to be somewhat stretch- 
 ed. Through each substance the sound was modified in 
 a manner a little different. By resting a stick, or any 
 other body, against the temples, the forehead, and the 
 external cartilaginous part of the ear, sound is convey- 
 ed to the interior organs of hearing, as will readily ap- 
 pear if you hold your \^ atch to those parts of another 
 person who has stopped up his ears." 
 
 In reviewing the whole process which takes place in 
 the production of soimd by a sonorous body, till it makes 
 an impression on the organ of hearing, we perceive its 
 several steps depending solely on some motion accom- 
 panying each of them, and essential to it. From all this 
 the inference is irresistible, that sound is merely a mo- 
 tion originating in the sonorous body, and communicated 
 from it through the intervening medium, to the interior 
 parts of the ear ; and that hearing is merely a sensation 
 produced by the consequent affection of this organ. We 
 have thus eudea%'oured, by a regular induction from the 
 phenomena of sound, to discover its nature ; a mode of 
 procedure which is not only the most legitimate, but also 
 the best fitted to give a distinct view of the present state 
 of Acoustics, and of the evidence on which its theory is 
 established. We may now take an opposite course, and 
 consider the general phenomena of sound in their con- 
 nexion with theory. 
 
 A noise may be regarded as a single impulse, or se- 
 veral impulses, whose aggregate duration is so short as 
 not to be appreciable. A continued sound is a succes- 
 sion of separate impulses communicated to the ear, and 
 producing separate impressions, but in such rapid suc- 
 cession as not to be accurately distinguished from each 
 other; and thus seeming to form one continued sensa- 
 tion. There are many facts in vision which may illustrate 
 the nature of sound. Thus when we move a flaming 
 stick rapidly in a circle, its path seems to be one con- 
 tinued line of light, though our perception of it must be 
 occasioned by the coalescence of several successive im- 
 pressions on the retina. A musical sound consists of a 
 series of undulations which arrive at the ear at equal 
 intervals of time, and the pitch of the sound depends on 
 the length of the interval between each impression. 
 Musical soimds should therefore be produced, not only 
 by the isochronous vibration of sonorous bodies, but also 
 by any other mode in which a rapid succession of equi- 
 distant impidses can be commimicated to the ear, whe- 
 ther those impulses originate from the same or different 
 sources. In this case theoi-v is confirmed by experiment^ 
 P 2
 
 116 
 
 ACOUSTICS. 
 
 for by drawing a quill slowly across Ihe lecih of a comb, 
 a number of distiiicl noises arc perceived ; but by in- 
 creasing the rapidity with which lliese noises succeed 
 each other, they finally coalesce in one unbroken sound 
 of a determinate pitch. In a similar manner the distinct 
 pufl's arising Irom the alternate opening and shutting of 
 a stop-cock, attached to the wind-chest of an organ, 
 form, when lepcated with suflTicient frequency, a very 
 smooth musical note. We may reciprocally, by increasing 
 the capacity of a cavity attached to a pipe, gradually re- 
 duce the frequency of vibration till the sound becomes 
 at last analysed uHo distinct puffs. The numbet of undu- 
 lations which constitute the sound of any sonorous borly, 
 is exactly equal to the number of complete vibrations 
 •which the body performs in the same time ; and may 
 therefore be determined by the methods whicn are men- 
 tioned in Chap. II.* According to the experiments of 
 Sauveur, the lowest sound which tlie ear can appreciate 
 consists of 121 undulations in a second, and the most 
 acute, of sometning more than 6000. 
 
 Each of the undulations which constitute the funda- 
 mental sound of a sonorous body, may contain within it 
 several minuter rarefactions and condensations, thus 
 producing at the same time the sensations peculiar to 
 the fundamental sound, and to its harmonics. 
 
 Wiien two bodies, whose sounds are the same, arc 
 adjacent, they reciprocally affect each other's vilirations 
 through the mediiun of the air, m such a manner that 
 these vibrations become synchronous, or performed to- 
 gether ; and thus both bodies conspire in producing 
 each condensation and each rarefaction ; the result of 
 which co-ope ration is a more pleasing and uniform sound 
 than either of them would produce separately : but if 
 the sounds of the two bodies differ a little from each 
 other, the undulations of the one sound will have a ten- 
 dency sometimes to destroy, and sometimes to enforce 
 the undulations of the other. Thus if one sound consist 
 of 90 undulations in a second, and the other of 93, every 
 30th midulation of the one will coincide with every 31st 
 undulation of the other, and tend to strengthen it, whilst 
 the intermediate undulations will in some measure coun- 
 teract and destroy each other. The coincident pulses 
 therefore of the two sounds must make a more power- 
 ful impression on the ear than the other undulations ; 
 producing what is called a beat in the sounds. By 
 means of these beats, we can frequently determine by 
 the following rule the absolute nutiiber of pulses which 
 constitute any two soinids whose relative frequency of 
 imdulation is known. Express the relation between the 
 sounds in the lowest possible numbers, and these, multi- 
 plied by the beats during a second, will respectively 
 give the number of undvdations in a second, which con- 
 stitute each sound. 
 
 When the beats of two sounds recur in such rapid 
 succession as not to be separately distinguished by the 
 car, they coalesce into a third sound, which is called a 
 jjrave harmonic. The hardness or softness of a musi- 
 
 cal sound depends upon the condensation in its undu- 
 lations being abrupt or gradual ; consequently all sounds 
 become softened as they depart farther from their 
 sources. Otner variations between ditVercnt sounds are 
 partly produced by the particular order in which tiic un- 
 dulations succeed each other, and partly by differences 
 in the form of each undulation. 
 
 As undulations are sent off from sonorous bodies in 
 a form nearly spherical, the force of each nmst dimin- 
 ish as the square of its distance from the sonorous body 
 increases ; and from this several autliors have inferred, 
 that the intensity of sound diminishes at the same rate. 
 If, however, we estimate the intensity ol soimd by the 
 degree ol sensation which it is fitted to produce, it pro- 
 bably dimniishes at a more rapid rate ; for in all our 
 senses the force of sensation does not depend merely on 
 the degree ot excitement, but also on the suddenness of 
 the excitation ; consequently if two undulations have 
 each an equal impetus, the one in which the condensation 
 is most abrupt and contined within the narrowest limits, 
 should produce the most vivid sensation. The crossing 
 of sounds in the air, without being mutually destroyed, 
 must arise from the air in the point of their intersection 
 partaking of both motions. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Of the Reflectiok of Sound. 
 
 A sound, whose progress is interrupted by any solid 
 obstacle, must be partly transmitted, and partly reflec- 
 ted, with a velocity equal to that which it had before 
 impinging against the obstacle. The reflection of sound 
 differs from that of light m tlic degree of smoothness 
 required in the reflecting surface ; thus walls, rocks, and 
 many other bodies whose surfaces have considerable ir- 
 regularities, reflect sound very perfectly. La Grange 
 has, however, demonstrated, that, in sound, as well as 
 light, tlie angle of reflection is equal to the angle of in- 
 cidence ; and therefore, by employing the laws of ca- 
 toptrics, and keeping in view, that sound has generally 
 a tendency to be a little scattered by reflection, we 
 may obtain an explanation of several interesting pheno- 
 mena. 
 
 When a sound, issuing from a distant point, impinges 
 on a concave surface, it converges to a certain point after 
 reflection ; and a person, situated near that point, will 
 hear the reflected sound more distinctly than the direct 
 sound. A similar effect will be produced by reflection 
 from several plain surfaces properly situated. If the 
 reflecting surface be of an elliptical form, all the sound 
 which proceeds from one of its foci is reflected to the 
 other. To such a reflection, the phenomena w hich take 
 place in the whispering gallery at St Paul's and several 
 other buildings, is frequently ascribed. A person stand- 
 ing near the wall with his face turned to it, whispers a 
 few words, which are heard by another, who applies his 
 
 • Professor Robison, in the article Trumpet, vol. ii. p. 720 of the Supplement to the Encyclopedia Britamncn, gives a rule for deter- 
 mining tlie number of aerial pulses made by an open pipe of any given lengtli, wliich will be very apt to mislead tlie incautious reader. 
 The learned professor, in that rule, consider.'! the number of pulses as equal to the number of vibrations performed by the air in the 
 pipe, and determines the number of vibrations, by extending to an open pipe the formula which he had previously found for the vibra- 
 tions of a string. Xow, as that formula expresses the single vibrations of a string, the extension of it must express the ntimber of 
 single vibrations of the air in a pipe, and consequently give double the number of pulses. If tliis rule be applied to the e.xample given 
 in the second next paragraph, it will be found to give double tlie number of pulses mendoned there by that philosopher. We have 
 been induced to mention these circumstances, lest those readers, who might not choose to investigate the principles on which the rule 
 :s founded, should, upon comparing it with our forraida, and findiiig the results different, call in question the accuracy of the latter.
 
 ACOUSTICS. 
 
 U7 
 
 ear to the wall at nearly the opposite side of the building ; 
 though the sound is not perceptible to tliosc who are 
 situated nearer to the speaker. The position of the 
 speaker is in this case such, that the sound must, after 
 reflection, diverge, instead of convergins^, to tiie oppo- 
 site point ot the building; consequently the effect must 
 arise eitlier from two or more successive reflections 
 along the sides of a polygon, or from a continued deflec- 
 tion ot the sound along the wall. To determine which 
 of these is the cause of the phenomena, would require 
 several experiments. The Hall uf Secrets, as it is 
 called, in the observatory at Pans, produces a similar 
 effect, but in a rrjore pertect manner. This hall is of an 
 octagonal form, with cloister arches, or arched by por- 
 tions of a cylinder, which meet at angles, corresponding 
 to those formed by the sides of the b\iikUng. The 
 speaker applies his mouth very near the wall to one of 
 the angles, and the person situated at the opposite angle 
 hears his voice distinctly. Montucla thinks, that, in this 
 case, " there can be no reflection of the voice, according 
 to the laws of catoptrics ; but that the re-entering angle, 
 continued along the arch from one side of the hall to 
 the other, forms a sort of canal, which contains the voice, 
 and transmits it to the other side." We conceive, 
 however, that the effect may also be accounted for by 
 successive reflections along the arch, as completely as 
 by a continued deflection ; but we shall not presume to 
 affirm on which of these it depends. 
 
 The most frequent instances of the reflection of sound 
 are from surfaces, which may be considered as plane. 
 In these, the sound issuing from any point seems, alter 
 reflection to proceed from a point equally distant and 
 similarly situated on the other side of the reflecting 
 surface; the phenomena differing a little according, to 
 
 the position of the speaker, with res'pect to the body 
 which occasions the reflection. If a person's voice 
 strike any surface perpendicularly, it will be reflected 
 back in the same line ; and the time occupied between 
 the utterance of the sound and its arrival again at the 
 speaker, will be equal to the time in which sound 
 travels through twice the distance between the speaker 
 and the reflecting surface. This time may therefore be 
 expressed in seconds, by a fraction whose numerator is 
 twice the distance, anil whose denominator is 11 30 feet. 
 If the distance of the reflecting object is less than 47 
 feet, then the interval between tjie impression pioduced 
 on the ear by the direct sound, and that produced by the 
 reflected sound, will be less than -^-^ of a second, and the 
 two sounds Will consequently seem to constitute a single 
 sound ; but when the distance is greater than 47 feet, 
 the interval of time between the speaker's hearing the 
 direct and the reflected sounds exceeds ^j of a second ; 
 and as this interval can be discerned by the ear, the 
 two sounds will be separate, and therefore form an echo. 
 A reflecting surface will return the echo of one or 
 more syllables in proportion to its distance from the 
 speaker ; for the last of the syllables must be uttered 
 before the echo of the first arrives at the ear. It is 
 computed, that, in the usual way of speaking, each syl- 
 lable is pronounced in about y of a second^; the distance 
 therefore of a reflecting object must be as many times 
 161i feet as the echo returns syllables. A compound 
 echo, or one which repeats the same sound several 
 times, is occasioned by several reflecting surfaces, sit- 
 uated at different distances from the speaker. But for 
 the more particular consideration of this subject, we must 
 refer to the article Echo, 
 
 PART. II. PRACTICE OF xlCOUSTICS. 
 
 The practice of Acoustics is confined to instruments 
 for the production of sounds ; — for the transmission of 
 sound to greater distances ; — for concentrating sound 
 after its transmission ; — and for measuring the relations 
 of sounds. 
 
 Sect I. On Xratzenstein's Vowel Fi/ies. 
 
 The sounds produced by instruments are chiefly 
 musical. Kratzenstein and Kempelen have, however, 
 by making experiments on the effects of pipes of dif- 
 ferent forms, succeeded in constructing such as shall 
 imitate very accurately the different vowel sounds pro- 
 duced by the human voice. The theory of the vibration, 
 which takes place in these pipes, is very imperfectly 
 inulerstood, and therefore we must rest satisfied merely 
 with giving sections of them. The sound in the pipe, 
 which gives the vowel /, is produced by blowing through 
 the tube attached to the pipe /; but in the case of 
 the other vowels, J, E, O, and U, by blowing into the 
 pipes with a reed mouth-piece, resembling that of a 
 vox-humana organ-pipe. This mouth-piece is repre- 
 sented in Plate II. Fig. 15, where AB is a semi-cylin- 
 drical mouth-piece with a metallic tongue, or plate, 
 between A and B, by whose vibrations the current of 
 air is alternately admitted and excluded. 
 
 Sect. II. On the Speaking Trumpet. 
 
 The speaking trumpet is an instrument intended for 
 transmitting sound to considerable distances in a particu- 
 lar direction. The form which is given to this trumpet 
 is different according to the various theories which 
 have been formed concerning its action, being some- 
 times a parabolic, sometimes an hyperbolic conoid. The 
 form of a simple cone is found to answer fully better in 
 practice than any other. This construction of the in- 
 strument is represented in Plate II. Fig. 11, where A 
 is a mouth-piece, adapted to surround the lips of the 
 speaker, and confine the voice. AB is the body of the 
 instrument, being a cone, truncated at A, and gradually- 
 enlarging towards B. Sometimes the instrument is 
 terminated at B, by a sudden enlargement of its aper- 
 ture. The theory of the action of this trumpet has been, 
 in general, very ill understood. The augmentation in 
 the intensity of the sound has been supposed to arise 
 partly from the vibration of the substance of the trumpet, 
 and partly from a reflection of the sonorous rays from, 
 its sides, The former of these circumstances, however, 
 has long ceased to be adduced as a cause of the augmen- 
 tation of sound ; for its effect must be to render the 
 voice indistinct, and nearly unintelligible ; but the latter 
 still continues to be the theory of the action of this in^
 
 118 
 
 ACOUSTICS. 
 
 btrument, which is usually given by writers on Acous- 
 tics. According to these authors, the sonorous rays 
 A 6, A c, A/, and A g, which diverge from the point 
 
 A, and which would, if the instrument were not em- 
 ployed, continue to proceed through the atmosphere in 
 their diverging lines, are, by impinging against the 
 points 6, c,f, and g, in the side of the instrument, re- 
 ilected into the parallel lines b e, cd, f/i, and g /c, and 
 thus transmitted to the hearer. This will appear a very 
 defective theory, if we consider, that it extends the 
 analogy between sound and light much farther than we 
 are warranted to do by the phenomena of nature ; for, 
 if we consider sound, at such minute distances, as con- 
 sisting, like light, of distinct and independent rays, the 
 surfaces reflecting sound must require a higher degree 
 of polish than we generally find them to have ; and a 
 wall, or a rock, which at present reflect sound very per- 
 fectly, should rather disperse it in all directions. In a 
 similar manner, the sound of a flute, when all its finger 
 holes are shut, should proceed, without any divergence, 
 through the air in rays perfectly parallel. The same 
 thing should also take place with the sound of a tuning 
 fork, and many other sonorous bodies ; but this is con- 
 trary to daily experience. Indeed, the phenomena of 
 sound at minute distances cannot be explained on any 
 other supposition, than by supposing its undulations to 
 correspond with any compressed fluid, in having a ten- 
 dency to escape in that direction where it is least re- 
 sisted. According to this view of the subject, any un- 
 dulation should enter the trumpet at the point A, in a 
 condensed state, and press against the sides of the in- 
 strument during its whole progress through it, thus 
 uniformly occupying the whole breadth of the trumpet, 
 and becoming more rare as it approaches the extremity 
 
 B. We may observe, however, that the diminution in 
 its density should be probably greater in the parts adja- 
 cent to the sides of the instrument, than in those nearer 
 the axis. The action of the instrument must therefore 
 chiefly depend either on the confinement of the undula- 
 tion by the tube, or by its gradual diffusion across the 
 whole diameter of the tube. The confinement of the 
 air in the tube must chiefly operate by rendering it less 
 fugacious, and capable of receiving a stronger impulse 
 from the organs of speech, and thus increasing the in- 
 tensity of the sound in the same manner that the sound 
 of a sonorous body is louder in a dense than in a rare 
 atmosphere. A similar explanation is also suggested by 
 Professor Leslie in his ingenious Essay on Heat. On 
 this action of the instrument, the increase of sound, at 
 least at moderate distances, seems chiefly to depend ; 
 for Hassenfralz found, that the beat of a watch, placed 
 in the mouth of a cylindrical trumpet, was audible at 
 nearly double the distance which it could be heard 
 without employing the instrument ; an effect which 
 could not take place according to the usual principles 
 which are employed to explain the action of the speak- 
 ing trumpet. The same gentleman found, in other 
 experiments, that a cylindrical speaking trumpet trans- 
 mitted the sound of his watch to as great a distance as 
 a conical trumpet. From which experiments, and from 
 the preceding remarks, it is evident, that the immediate 
 effect of the speaking trumpet ui increasing the inten- 
 sity of sound, depends in no degree on reflection, but 
 rather on the air being rendered less fugacious, and 
 more capable of receiving a strong impulse. We con- 
 ceive, however, that the gradual enlargement of the in- 
 stmuieut, by rendering the undulation less dense and 
 
 spread over a greater surface, makes it less apt to dif- 
 fuse itself in a spherical foi-m, and consequently Its': 
 exhausted by being transmitted to considerable distaji- 
 ces. Such an effect actually takes place in the conical 
 trumpet, for it transmits sound chiefly in the direction 
 to which it is pointed. 
 
 Sect. III. On the Hearing Trumfiet. 
 
 The form which is usually given to the hearing trum- 
 pet, corresponds to that of the speaking trumpet, in be- 
 ing a cone truncated near its summit, but differs from it 
 in being sometimes of a curved form. The summit of 
 the cone is placed in the ear, and the w-ide extremity 
 turned towards the point from which the sound comes. 
 The effect of this instrument is found to be a very consi- 
 derable augmentation in the intensity of the sound, and 
 it is accordmgly employed by those whose sense of hear- 
 ing is impaired. The common theory of the hearing: 
 trumpet, founded on the hypothesis of reflection, may be 
 easily conceived, by supposing the section of the speak- 
 ing trumpet, Plate II. Fig. 12, to represent a hearing 
 trumpet, of which the summit A is placed in the ear, 
 and d c, e b, h f, k g, to be parallel rays, which impinge 
 against the sides of the instrument, and are converged 
 by reflection to the point A. The theory of reflection 
 is less applicable to the hearing than to the speaking- 
 trumpet ; for when the instrument is of considerable 
 length, or the source from which the sound issues is 
 very near, each ray will sustain several reflections be- 
 tween the opposite sides of the tube, and at each re- 
 flection the angle of incidence will be increased in such 
 a manner, that, after a few reflections, the ray will again 
 issue out at the mouth of the instrument. We must 
 therefore conceive a process the reverse of what takes 
 place in the speaking trumpet ; and that the action of 
 the sides of the instrimient is not limited to the parts 
 immediately adjacent ; but extends to the axis of the 
 tube, gradually transferring the whole impetus, which 
 was impressed on the air at the aperture of the instru- 
 ment to the narrow portion of air at its vertex ; and thus 
 enabling it to act with more energy upon the organ of 
 hearing. 
 
 Sect. IV. Oji Acoustic Tubes. 
 
 Sound may be conveyed to much greater distances by 
 being confined, during its whole transmission, within a 
 pipe. Such pipes are frequently used in coffee-rooms 
 and taverns, for conveying orders to the attendants. Dr 
 Herschel employs a similar tube attached to his forty 
 feet telescopes, for communicating his observations to 
 an assistant, who sits in a small house near the instru- 
 ment ; and thus, under cover, notes them down, and 
 the particular time in which they were made. Acoustic 
 tubes are generally of a cylindrical foiTii, and have at 
 each extremity a mouth-piece, like that of a speaking- 
 trumpet, to which either the mouth or ear is applied, 
 according as the person is speaking, or listening to ano- 
 ther. 
 
 The phenomena of sound when confined in acoustic 
 pipes, demonstrate more completely than even the phe- 
 nomena of speaking and hearing trumpets, that we iTiust 
 be led to erroneous conclusions, by applying to minute 
 portions of sound the laws of catoptrics. According to 
 these laws, when an acoustic pipe is bent at a right an- 
 gle, the whole sound should at that angle be reflected
 
 ACOUSTICS. 
 
 no 
 
 back in the same paili by which it arrived at it ; and no 
 sound should be transmitted to the other extremity of 
 the lube. This, however, is contrary to fact; for wiien 
 we speak into an acoustic pipe, tlie voice follows its 
 ■windings, however tortuous. The condensations and 
 rarelactions which constitute the sound, must therefore 
 have communicated themselves laterally from the one 
 part of the tube into tlic other, contrary to the laws of 
 catoptrics. The sound thus transmitted must be indeed 
 weakened by a partial reflection, and also by a partial 
 transmission through the substance of the tube ; and the 
 relation between the force of the sound transmitted 
 along the tube to that which is reflected back, must de- 
 pend on the relation which the diameters of the different 
 parts of the tube on each side of the right angle bear to 
 each other, and to the depth of the undufations which 
 constitute the sound. The further consideration of this 
 interesting subject, of which we believe no author has 
 yet treated, we must defer to the article Vibration. 
 
 Sect. V. Explanation of the Deception called the Invi- 
 sible Girl. 
 
 Mr. Charles's deception of the invisible girl, is chiefly 
 produced by means of acoustic tubes. In this exhibition 
 a square railing of wood is fixed in the middle of the 
 room, and within this railing a globe is firmly fixed with 
 ribbons, liaving four trumpets inserted into it, one op- 
 posite to each side of the railing. The spectators, by 
 first speaking into any of the trumpets, and then applying 
 their ear to it, hear, in a feeble voice, an answer to their 
 cjuestions apparently issuing from the trumpets. This 
 deception is performed by conveying the sound through 
 pipes, which are conducted from another room under 
 the flooring, and, along a bar of the railing, to a small 
 aperture opposite to the mouth of the trumpet, from 
 which the sound after reflection seems to proceed. The 
 trumpets reflect the spectator's question to the pipe, 
 which conveys it to a person placed in the next room, 
 and also conducts back that person's answer. 
 
 Sect. VI. On VentriloQuism. 
 
 Ventriloquism does not, as is frequently supposed, de- 
 pend on the reflection of sound, but wholly on the inac- 
 curacy with which the car judges of the direction from 
 which sounds proceed ; enabling the performer, by a 
 variation of his tone of voice, and by seeming not to 
 move his lips, to persuade the spectators that the sound 
 proceeds from some object to which he has diverted 
 their attention. The deception, therefore, with respect 
 to the direction of the sound, depends wholly on the 
 power which the finesse of the performer gives him over 
 the imaginations of his audience. 
 
 Sect. VII. On Sounding Boards. 
 
 Sounding boards are employed in all stringed instru- 
 ments for increasing the force of their sound. A similar 
 contrivance is often employed to assist the voice of pub- 
 lic speakers; but the principles of these two kinds of 
 sounding boards are perfectly distinct from each other. 
 The sounding board employed to assist the voice of pub- 
 lic speakers, depends for its effect chiefly, if not wholly, 
 upon reflection. In stringed instruments, the sounding 
 board receives a vibratory motion from the string, and by 
 thus impelling the air w ith a greater surface, produces 
 
 a more powerful sound than tlie string alone. That this 
 is its mode of operation, may be easily seen by stretch- 
 ing a musical string over aboard, and pressing the edge 
 of a thin ivory scale, or any other hard body, against the 
 middle point of the string. The sound of the string is 
 feeble, when the scale is merely held in the hand without 
 touching the board, but becomes powerhd when we rest 
 the scale against the board. The same fact may be also 
 proved by stretching the string on some solid body, ia 
 which it cannot readily produce vibration. In this case, 
 the vicinity of that body will be found to have little 
 effect in increasing the sound. The effect of a mute 
 upon a violin seems to arise from its preventing the 
 vibrations of the string from being commiuiicated along 
 the bridge of the violui to the body of the instrument. 
 
 Sect. VIII. On Sonometers. 
 
 Sonometers are instruments intended for determining 
 the relation between the number of undulations which 
 constitute the several notes of music. This instrument 
 is usually in the form of an oblong box, upon which two 
 metallic wires are stretched by weights, and which, by 
 varying either their length or tension, may be tuned, so 
 as that their soimds shall have to each other the rela- 
 tion of any two notes of the musical scale. Wc can, 
 then, by comparing the relative lengths, or tension, of 
 the strmgs, easily determine their relative frequency of 
 vibration. The monochord is a similar instrument, 
 having one string only, and generally constructed so as 
 to vary the effective length of the string, by a moveable 
 bridge. For the relations which are thus discovered be- 
 tween the notes of the gamut, we must refer to the arti- 
 cle Music. 
 
 Sect. IX. Method of measuring Distances by means of 
 Sound. 
 
 A knowledge of the velocity of sound enables us to 
 measure distances which we can by no other mode as- 
 certain. It has been already mentioned, that sound tra- 
 vels through 1130 feet in a second of time ; and there- 
 fore it must occupy a little more than 4i seconds, or 5 
 beats of a healthy pulse, in passing through the distance 
 of a mile. Consequently if we divide by 4 1, the num- 
 ber of seconds which elapse between the time of seeing 
 the flash of a cannon, or of lightning, and the time of 
 hearing the report, the quotient will express in miles the 
 distance of the cannon or the thunder. 
 
 For farther information on the subject of Acoustics, 
 the reader is referred to the articles Eciio and Vibra- 
 tion, and to the following works : 
 
 Mersenne Harmonic Universale, Pa.ris, 1636; Galilei 
 Discorsi Mathcmalichi, 1638; Bartoli del Sono, 1680; 
 Derham, P/j//. Trans. No. 313 ; Carre. Meni. .icad. Par. 
 1704; De la Hire. Id. 1716, p. 252; Cassini, Maraldi, 
 andLaCaille, Id. 1738, p. 128, 1739; Hawksbce, P/;//. 
 Trans. X. xxiv. p. 902; v. xxvi. p. 367. Bishop of Ferns, 
 Id. v. xiv. p. 471. Walker, Id. v. xx. p. 433. T. Young, 
 Id. 1800, p. 106. Young's A'at. Phil. v. ii. p. 531, G07. 
 Euler, Mem. jlcad. Berlin. 1759 ; 1765, p. 335. Miscellan. 
 Tuurinens. tom. ii. 11. Euler's Conject. circa. Pro/iag. 
 So'ti, Berl. 1750. jYov. Comment. Petrufi. torn. i. p. 67. 
 Bernoulli, Mem. Acad. Par. 1762, p. 442. La Grange, 
 Miscellan. Tauiinens. tom. i. 1759, p. 1 — 146; Id. tom. 
 ii. p. 1. U. Q52. Mem. Jcad. Berlin. 1736, p. 181. Lam-
 
 120 
 
 ACOUSTICS. 
 
 hen. Mem. .icad. licrlm. 1768, p. 70; 1772, p. 173. Biaii- 
 coni. Comment. Bonon. ii. 365. Zaiiotti. Id. ii. Blagden. 
 P/iil. Trans. 1784, p. 291. PciToUe, Melanges de la 6'c/c. 
 Turin. 1786, torn. iii. or Nicholson's yottr?;a/, v. i. p. 411. 
 Chladni Kntdrckungen iiber die Theorie des Ktanges, 
 Leips. 1787. Ciiibcrt's Journal dcr PInjsik. iii. 159. 177. 
 182. Von Ariiini. /r/. iii. 167; iv. 112. Biot. Journal de 
 Physique, \. Iv. p. 173. Laniark. Id. v. xlix. p. 397. Gre- 
 gorowitz Dissert, de Profiag. Soni, Venet. 1761. Neder- 
 iiolm. Dissvrt. de Sdni, celerit. Abo, 1762. Winkler. 
 Tentam. circa Soni, celiril. Lips. 1763. Ex/ieriences ■■sur 
 la Vitesse du Son, Copenhagen, 1761. Arderon P/ul. 
 Irans. 1748, p. 149. 
 
 Taylor, Phil. Trans, v. xxviii. p. 26. Hermann, jict. 
 Jirudit. Lijis. 1716. p. 370. Euler, Mem. Acad. Bert. 
 1748, p. 69; 1753, p. 196; 1765, p. 307, 335. h'ov. Com- 
 ment. Pttrop. torn. iii. 1762, 1763. Act. Acad. Petrofi. 
 1779, parti, p. 103; part ii. p. 116; 1780, part ii. p. 99. 
 Melanges de Soc. Turin, torn. iii. pour 1762 — 1765. Act. 
 Lips. 1749, p. 512. Bernoulli, Mem. Acad. Par. 1762, p. 
 431. Comment. Pelrofi. torn. iii. p. 13. 62; xiii. p. 105. 
 
 167. J^ov. ComiiK Pelroji. XV. p. 361 ; xvi. p. 257. Ac-i-. 
 Act. Petro/i. 1787, vol. v. p. 197. Mem. Acad. Berlin 
 1765. D'Alembert O/iusc. Mathemat. torn. i. iv. p. 128 
 M\m. Acad. Berlin. 17 i7, p. 214; 1750, p. 355; 1753; 
 1763, p. 235. Chladni, y^Ar/. yi/«i'. v. ii. p. 315. 391 ; v. iii. 
 p. 389 ; V. iv. p. 275 ; v. xii. p. 259. Chladni Knldec- 
 kungen, <Sfc. i^c. Chladni ubcr die Longitudinal Schive- 
 bungen der Stabe. Riccati, Mem. Soc. Ital. vol. i. p. 444 ; 
 vol. iv. p. 81. Acad. Pad. vol. i. p. 419. Lexell, Act. Pe- 
 trofi. 1781, V. ii. p. 185. Lambert, Mov. Act. Helvet. v. 
 i. p. 42. Biot il/<'7n, Institut. A'at. torn. iv. p. 21. Zanotti 
 de Chord. Vibrat. Comment. Roma:, 1765. 
 
 Kratzenstein, Observations fiar Roziir, vol. xxi. p. 385. 
 Sauveur, Mem. Acad. Par. 1702, p. 308. Moreland on 
 the S/ieaking Trumfict, London, 1671. Lambert, Mem. 
 Acad. Bcrl. 1763, p. 87. Hassenfratz, Annales de Chimie. 
 torn, xii; or Nicholson's Journal, vol. ix. p. 283. Con- 
 yers, Phil. Trans, vol. xiii. p. 1027. Robison, Encyc. 
 Brit. Su/ifi. art. Trumpet. Nicholson's Journal, vol. 
 iii. 8vo. p. 56. Duqucl Machin. A/tfirouv. torn. ii. p. 
 129.* (.\. c.) 
 
 * Note. There is still wanted a vork on the practical 
 application of the principles of acoustics to the construc- 
 tion of rooms, in which what is spoken or performed shall 
 be uttered without difficulty, and distinctly heard through- 
 out the space enclosed. In none of the works contained 
 in the foregoing list, with which the writer of this arti- 
 cle is acquainted, is there any thing like an attempt to 
 lay down a system by which an architect could be guided 
 Li his design. 
 
 In the following remarks, an attempt will be made to 
 lay down some general principles, and to open the way 
 to a more ample elucidation of a subject of great im- 
 portance, especially in these United States. Under a 
 government in which public debate precedes eveiy 
 public measure, from the enactment of national laws, to 
 the assessment of a corporation tax, it is indeed essential 
 that the halls of debate should be constructed on good 
 principles. 
 
 Rooms in the construction of which a knowledge of 
 the science of sounds is necessary may be distributed 
 into three classes. 
 
 1. Rooms in which one speaker only is to be heard, 
 whose place is fixed, as well as that of the audience. 
 To this class belong churches, and lecture rooms. 
 
 2. Rooms in which there are to be heard more than 
 one speaker or musical performer, in which one part is 
 appropriated to the sound, the other to the audience. 
 To this class belong music rooms and theatres. 
 
 3. Rooms in which the speakers are scattered over 
 the whole, or the greater part, of the space enclosed, who 
 also form the audience. To this class belong legislative 
 halls, and all rooms of debate. 
 
 Halls of justice, as conducted in our own country and 
 in the British empire, form an intermediate class be- 
 tween the two latter ; these are occupied by the bench, 
 the bar, and the jury, being a very considerable part of 
 the whole space, which assimilates the room to those of 
 the last class, while the large space occupied by the au- 
 dience connects them with the preceding. 
 
 The general principles, on which rooms of each of 
 these classes ought to be constructed, are the same;— < 
 
 and on these I will in the first place make some obser- 
 vations. 
 
 The distinctness, with which the human voice can be 
 heard by a good ear, depends independently of reverbe- 
 ration, or consonant vibration, 1. On the clearness and 
 strength of the voice, — 2. On the direction of the mouth 
 ot the speaker when uttering his voice, — 3. On the state 
 of the atmosphere, — 4. On the distance between the 
 speaker and hcai-cr, — 5, On the absence of other inter- 
 fering sounds. 
 
 When the voice is good, the articulation clear, the 
 mouth directed to the hearer, the atmosphere compara- 
 tively heavy, the distance moderate, and when silence 
 prevails, the voice of a speaker may be distinctly heard 
 without any assistance from art. The same may be 
 said of musical or any other sounds. 
 
 But as there is no where perfect silence, as good 
 voices and good declamation are rare, as the mouths of 
 speakers cannot be directed to all parts of an audience 
 at once, and as the very existence of an enclosed space 
 implies a multitude of echoes, it is the business of art, 
 so to use or to destroy their effect, as to produce the 
 greatest possible ease to the speaker and to the hearer, 
 and to correct all that opposes the attainment of this 
 object. 
 
 The consideration of the artist must therefore be di- 
 rected 1. to the production of such echoes only, as are 
 useful in supporting the effect of the voice or sound ; 
 
 2. to the destruction of such as interfere with its effect; 
 
 3. to the production (where it is possible) of co-hamio- 
 nious vibrations ; 4. to the destruction of those of the 
 opposite kind; 5. and to the exclusion of substances in- 
 tervening between the speaker and hearer. 
 
 In practical architecture, the only effects of sound 
 over which the artist can obtain any control are echo 
 and vibration : — and the only means ivithin his power are 
 form and materials. 
 
 In treating theoretically therefore on tlie subject be- 
 fore me, I shall consider sound only as in its capacity of 
 reflection or reverberation, and in its power of commu- 
 nicating vibration to solid substances. 0^■c^ direct, or
 
 ACOUSTICS. 
 
 121 
 
 wliat may be called radiant sound, the architect has no 
 control: and, as it will in the sequel lippcur that the use 
 that may be made of the communication of the vibration 
 of sound to solids is extremely limited, the principal ob- 
 ject of attention will be the effect of reverberation, or 
 echo, as depending on the form and materials of a room. 
 The forms into which rooms may be distributed are 
 ist. Parallelopipedons. 2d. Cylinders and cylindroids, or 
 elliptical rooms with flat ceilings. 3d. Parallelopipedons 
 with arched ceilings. 4th. Cylindrical rooms with sphe- 
 rical ceiUngs or domes. 5th. Rooms, in their walls or 
 ceilings, compounded of the former kinds. 
 
 There are other geometrical forms which might be 
 adopted ; and which, however ridiculous in idea, might 
 produce wonderful effects as to the propagation of sound. 
 They will very seldom, if ever, be executed ; but they 
 deserve notice on account of the theory they elucidate 
 and confirm. Of these ideal rooms, the globular and the 
 parabolic conoid claim attention. 
 
 It is a matter of fact, ascertained at least by all my 
 own experience, that surfaces reflect sound in proportion 
 to their regularity or smoothness, as well as in proportion 
 to their hardness, notwithstanding the general truth of 
 the remark contained above in chap. iv. 
 
 If therefore a spherical room could be constructed of 
 perfectly solid materials, perfectly polished, and a sound 
 were to issue from the voice of a person in the centre, 
 there would be an accumulation of echo at the centre, 
 which would probably be destructive of the organs of 
 hearing. For all the primary, secondary, and succes- 
 sive echoes would pass that point, and as experiment 
 has established the fact, that each echo, from each echo- 
 ing surface (at a moderate distance) is little less intense 
 than the original sound ; and, as, in the case supposed, 
 every point in the polished surface of the sphere would 
 return an echo ; and, as their number is infinite, it would 
 not be a deviation from the language of mathematical 
 truth to say that the sound accumulated in the centre 
 would be infinitely loud. 
 
 In the subsequent pages I shall use the expression 
 firimary echo, for the echo of the original sound ; secon- 
 dary echo, for the echo of a reverberated sound ; and sub- 
 sequent echoe's, for the echoes of sounds more than twice 
 reverberated. 
 
 If in such a spherical room, the voice remain in the 
 centre, and the ear were in any other point, nothing would 
 be heard but the direct voice, and the echoes passing 
 along that diameter of the sphere which passes also 
 through the ear. 
 
 If the voice were also placed out of the centre, but so 
 that the ear and the voice were in the same diameter 
 and at equal or unequal distances from the centre, then, 
 besides the direct voice, the ear would receive echoes 
 from each termination of the diameter of a great circle, 
 in the plane of which both the voice and the ear were 
 placed ; and also primary echoes from every point of a 
 circle from tlie circumference of which, chord lines, be- 
 ing drawn through the voice and the ear, would make the 
 angles of incidence and reflection on the surface of the 
 sphere equal. But no other primary echoes could pass 
 through the ear; although cases would exist in which 
 circles of subsequent echoes might pass the same point. 
 If the voice and the ear were placed not in the same 
 great circle, then there would be only one circle of pri- 
 mary echoes which could reach the ear, to wit, that on 
 each side of which the angles of incidence and reflection 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 would be equal ; subsequent echoes however would 
 reach the same point. 
 
 Which of an infinite series of subseeiuent reverljera- 
 tions would pass through the ear, the following formula 
 would determine. 
 
 Let c be the circumference of a great circle ; m the an- 
 gle subtended at the circumference by two chords of in- 
 cidence and reflection, passing each through one of the 
 points at which the voice and ear are placed ; y the num- 
 ber of quotients obtained by dividing the circumference 
 by ?«, and by the successive remainders of each remain- 
 der after each division; a, b,c, kc. and z the succes- 
 sive remainders; r the last remainder ; x the number 
 of the reverberation which would coincide with the first : 
 
 then X = - 
 
 f y 
 
 As in a regular poly- 
 
 ?nXaX'j X c X £cc X r. 
 gon c is ^ 0, there being no remainder, y will be = 1 
 and jc =1 to the number of the sides of the polygon. 
 
 From hence it follows, that if the ear and voice were so 
 placed as each to fall into a side of a regular polygon 
 described within a great circle of the sphere, the ear 
 would receive an infinite number of successive echoes 
 from the circles which would be described by the angles 
 of the polygon on the surface of the sphere, if the poly- 
 gon were made to revolve round its diameter. And the 
 echoes would run round the sphere in opposite direc- 
 tions passing through the ear both from the left to the 
 right and from the right to the left. The nearer the 
 voice and the ear were placed to the surface of the sphere, - 
 the more numerous would be the sides of the polygon 
 which may pass through those points, and of course the 
 more numerous the angles describing the circles which 
 would return them, or in other words, the more numer- 
 ous would be the echoes. 
 
 But this would also happen if the voice and ear were not 
 placed in the sides of a regular polygon, because, by the 
 formula stated above, after a certain number of reverber- 
 ations are performed, the echo would begin to reach and 
 pass through the ear. But this would happen only at in- 
 tervals; and, if.I am not much mistaken, the undulatory 
 effect of the echoes under domes is to be ascribed to this 
 cause, and not, as is generally supposed, to the wavy mo- 
 tion of the air. It must also be observed that when the 
 voice and ear are placed out of the same diameter of the 
 sphere, there will be two points, on opposite sides of the 
 centre, from which the voice will be reverberated ; and 
 as the angle m (as in the formula above) cannot be 
 equal on both sides, the number y will also vary ; and 
 the reverberation from the right and the left will not 
 coincide, excepting at every termination of a cycie of 
 echoes, which might be easily calculated if the relative 
 magnitude of each angle m were known. 
 
 If the voice and ear could both be placed on the sur- 
 face of the sphere, then every point of that surface would 
 return an echo ; and the effect would be the same as if 
 they were in the centre. 
 
 In these principles is to be found the whole mystery of 
 Whispering Galleries, and of the Hall of Secrets at Paris. 
 If a room were built horizontally in the form of a para- 
 bolic conoid, and the voice were made to issue from its 
 focus — or if it were covered with a parabolic dome, and 
 the voice placed in the focus — every hearer would receive 
 the direct voice and one single echo: for all echoes be- 
 ing reverberated in lines parallel to the axis of the para- 
 bola, no two echoes could possibly pass through t/^e 
 same jioint.
 
 122 
 
 ACOUSTICS. 
 
 I now come to consider such forms of rooms as are 
 usvialiy adopted tor public purposes. As the floors of 
 these rooms arc generally covered either with mats or 
 carpels, or by the audience, 1 shall leave the floor out of 
 consideration for the present. 
 
 1. Paralli-lofiijicdons. The primary echoes in all rooms 
 with plain walls and ceilings will be equal to the number 
 of planes enclosing them, let the voice and the ear be 
 placed as they may. A square or oblong room therefore 
 will return five echoes to each ear. Each set of subse- 
 quent echoes will be also equal to the number of en- 
 closing surfaces. 
 
 2. Cylindrical rooms with Jiat ceilings. The ceiling of 
 a cylindrical room will return one primary echo. The 
 .surface of the wall however will return rings of echoes, 
 either circular, — if the voice and ear be both either on 
 the same level or both in the axis of the cylinder, — or 
 elliptical if they be otherwise placed. 
 
 The secondary echoes of the ceiling from the walls will 
 be also from rings determined on the same principle. 
 
 In elliptical or cylindroidal rooms, if the voice be hi 
 one focus, all the echoes will be collected at the other. 
 In every other case the laws that govern the echoes of 
 cylindrical rooms will prevail. 
 
 3. Paralklopifiedons ivith arched ceilijigs. Besides the 
 four echoes of the walls, there will be from the ceiling 
 of these rooms an arch line of echoes circular or ellip- 
 tical according to the position of the voice and ear. 
 These will be reverberated as from the wall of a cylin- 
 drical room. 
 
 4. Circular domed rooms. What I have said above on 
 a spherical room applies to the echoes from the dome of 
 such a room, if the voice and ear be within the circle of 
 the dome, as is the case in a considerable part of the 
 Pantheon at Rome at the elevation of six feet from the 
 floor, and in the Bank of Pennsylvania at Philadelphia. 
 But as a dome is only one half or a segment of a sphere 
 or spheroid, the echoes will of course be much less nu- 
 merous, and fewer of them will reach the ear. The 
 walls supporting the dome will also cast innumerable 
 echoes on to its surface, which will be reverberated at in- 
 tervals or in cycles, so as to reach the ear at regular in- 
 tervals and produce an undulatory effect. I have above 
 said so much on the general theory of the case that I fear 
 I have fatigued the reader, and quite enough to suggest 
 to his own reasoning all that can be said on the princi- 
 ples of the echoes, and of the prolongation and the un- 
 dulation of sound in domes. 
 
 5. Mixed rooms partake of the qualities of all the 
 others of which they are composed. 
 
 I have now to consider in how far echo, or the rever- 
 beration of tlie voice, is useful in giving it effect on the 
 «ar, and in how far it destroys that eff"ect. 
 
 It was observed above. Chap. IV. that if the distance 
 of the speaker from the surface which reflects the voice 
 be greater than forty-seven feet, there will be a percep- 
 tible echo, the separation of which from the original 
 sound in point of time, is certainly a means of rendering 
 the articulation of the voice indistinct, in the same man- 
 ner, as a pacrc of printing, which has received a double 
 impression, is read with difficulty. I am not able from 
 my own experience to confirm this observation; but, at 
 whatever distance an echo becomes perceptible and 
 confuses the voice, I would call such an echo d!>so?;a«?, 
 all others corisonant echoes. 
 
 If it then be assumed as a fact, that in all rooms in 
 which the speaker cannot be placed at a greater distance 
 
 than forty-seven feet from any wall or ceiling, the pri- 
 maiy echo will so nearly comcide with the voice as to 
 be consonant, then such a room, in wJiatevcr form it may 
 be built, would multiply the effect of the voice by the 
 number of echoes which would be returned to the ear. 
 
 But as it is necessary to distinctness that each sylla- 
 ble or note of sound, which is uttered, should be heard 
 during the time of its utterance only, the secondary and 
 subsequent echoes, travelling much further than the 
 primary echo, would be still a great cause of confusion. 
 And the fact confirms this reasoning. For in a room 
 about forty feet square and less than forty feel high, if 
 the walls and ceiling be well plastered, and noobstixic- 
 tion given to echo by furniture or numerous persons, in 
 which including that from the floor there cannot be pos- 
 sibly more than six primary echoes, and six in each set 
 of subsequent echoes, it is impossible to speak loud and 
 rapidly so as to be distinctly heard. 
 
 In rooms, any part of tlic walls or ceiling of which is 
 cylindrical or spherical, and in which of course the 
 echoes are infinitely more numerous, the effect of con- 
 fusion by the interference o£ subsequent echoes is still 
 more considerable. 
 
 On the plain fact however, that, consonant echoes do 
 support tlie voice and increase its effect, there cannot be 
 any dispute. Theory and experience both confirm it. 
 No echo however can be mathematically consonant; for 
 no case can occur in which the distance of the voice 
 from the ear would be exactly equal to die legs of the 
 angles of incidence and reflection of an echo, the dis- 
 tance between the voice and the ear being a straight line 
 or the shortest distance: still less then can subsequent 
 echoes be consonant. 
 
 These considerations throw a strong light upon the 
 question of the construction of the rooms enumerated in 
 the first part of the essay, into which I will now enter. 
 
 If the separate tones or articulations of a voice were 
 made to succeed each other at such intervals, as to leave 
 time between them for the primary and subsequent 
 echoes to arrive at the ear, let their number dependent 
 upon the fomi of the room, be what it may, then no in- 
 distinctness could be produced by them. But if upon 
 the image (if I may be allowed the term^ of one sound, 
 the impression of a different sound be stamped, indis- 
 tinctness of both is the consequence. 
 
 There are therefore two principal means of avoiding 
 this confusion : — the first depends on the speaker or 
 musician : it is an articulation adapted in its pace to the 
 echoing quality of the roona; — the other is in the pro- 
 vince of the architect, so to construct the room as to 
 regulate its echoing qualities according to its use. 
 
 The first of these principles has been long understood 
 in practice by professors of oratory and declamation; 
 and it has become a kind of habit among public speak- 
 ers to articulate slowly in proportion to the size of the 
 room in which they speak. The evil although thus re- 
 medied by men who speak according to a regular sys- 
 tem, being inherent in an ill constructed room, will be 
 felt, the moment the warmth of feeling or the ignorance 
 of the speaker causes a more rapid delivery, than is 
 adapted to that degree of echo which is unavoidable. It 
 is then the duty of the architect to suppress or exclude 
 the echoes that would confuse the distinctness of the 
 species of sound which it is the object of the edifice to 
 exhibit. The mode of effecting this object will be dif- 
 ferent according to the different use to which the room 
 is put:
 
 ACOUSTICS. 
 
 123 
 
 I. la churches ajid lecture-rooms in which there is 
 only one speaker, reniaininjj in one place, in wliich the 
 object of instruction, as well as the laws of declamation, 
 require a slow and measured articulation, primary echoes 
 cannot be considered as injurious. They are, on the 
 contrary, beneficial. If the room be a parallelopipedon, 
 Vliere will be five such echoes ; and, presuming the rule 
 (Chap IV.) to be correct, if the mean distance of the 
 voice and echoing surface do not exceed forty-seven 
 feet, the voice will be well heard and supported ; unless 
 the walls be so smooth and hard, and tlie height so pro- 
 portioned to the width and lengtli, as to reverberate 
 audibly, the echo a second time or oftener. 
 
 The object then would be attained, were the room so 
 constructed that no secondary and subsequent echoes 
 could reach the audience, or that they should be so 
 weak as not to have any perceptible effect. 
 
 The most effectual means, which could be adopted, 
 would probably be, to prevent all echo excepting from 
 the ceiling, by hanging the walls with drapery, or other- 
 wise covering them so that they should not reverberate 
 sound. Rooms, the walls of which are broken into sunk 
 pannels enriched by relievos, or which are decorated 
 with fluted pilasters, or otherwise so varied in their sur- 
 face as to ofler to the rays of sound, which in this re- 
 spect resemble those of light, no regular mirror from 
 which they can be uniformly reflected, are better calcu- 
 lated to render the voice distinctly audible, than those, 
 the walls of which are unvaried in their surface. 
 
 As our churches are usually constructed, the galle- 
 ries, the pews, the cornices, the windows and their cur- 
 tains, but especially a crowded congregation, answer 
 the purpose to a considerable extent. If the ceiling be 
 arched and not so high as to produce a perceptible sepa- 
 ration of the voice and its echo, it will be a better room 
 than if the ceiling be flat. If the ceiling be spherical, 
 the effect will be still greater ; but it will be unequal, 
 because the primai-y echoes will be limited to the planes 
 of certain great circles ; as may be easily understood on 
 referring to the observations I have made on the suppo- 
 sition of a spherical room. 
 
 If the ceiling were parabolic and the speaker placed 
 in the focus, the room would I believe be as perfectly 
 adapted to its purpose as possible. On this one point 
 however I have no experience ; but all my observations 
 on churches and lecture-rooms, actually in existence, 
 confirm the theory I have advanced. 
 
 The place of the orator is next to be considered.— 
 He ought to be so situated that his hearers shall not be 
 behind him, and also, that he shall be at the shortest 
 mean distance from them. Both these rules, which are 
 all that govern the case, suggest at once the ancient 
 semicircular theatre as the most perfect form of a church 
 or lecture-room, tlie orator or exhibiter being placed in 
 the centre, or moving along the diameter. 
 
 It has now become a pretty general practice to con- 
 struct lecture-rooms in this form, especially when the 
 nature of the subject explained in them requires room, 
 and the objects exhibited are numerous. In the chemi- 
 cal lecture-room of the University of Pennsylvania, though 
 on a very limited scale, I have endeavoured to adapt the 
 form and arrangement to the principles which I have 
 laid down; and the object in view has been perfectly at- 
 tained. 
 
 The anatomical theatre in the same building is a cir- 
 cular room covered with a dome. In an anatomical 
 theatre the perfect view of the subject is of as much 
 
 importance as the perfect hearing of the lecture. The 
 circular form of such a room brings tlic subject, placed 
 in the centre, as near as possible to the eyes of the great- 
 est number of students ; and it is therefore preferable to 
 the semicircular plan. Each of these rooms is 45 feci 
 in diameter. 
 
 But in churches, habit, and certain rules of form., 
 which have an emblematical origin, forbid the theatrical 
 plan ; and although circular churches have been built by 
 those Christians who have deviated most from the strict 
 system of the catholic church, the expense attending 
 their construction, as well as other considerations, have 
 prescribed to churches an oblong, or cruciform, and 
 rectangular plan. 
 
 The extent of many churches, and the consequent 
 difficulty of supportmg the roof, have introduced columns 
 or pillars, and aisles into the interior. These, as far 
 as they break the regularity of the enclosing planes, 
 destroy interfering echoes. But they also intercept the 
 view as well as the voice of the speaker. In the plain 
 rectangular churches, most generally required by the 
 congregations of our country, the principal considera- 
 tions would be the place of the speaker and the form of 
 the ceiling. The centre of one of the longest sides, 
 brings the voice to the shortest possible distance from 
 the majority of the hearers ; and if the ceiling be flat it 
 is the most advantageous position. But if the ceiling- 
 be arched, it is better that he should be placed in the 
 longitudinal line, bisecting the area of the church, for 
 the reasons stated above. See Cylindrical Ceilings. 
 
 I cannot help regretting that the abuse, attributed to 
 the use of pictures and statuary in churches, has expel- 
 led them from most of the religious edifices of our coun- 
 try. Independently of the operation of sensible repre- 
 sentations, of the objects of our veneration or faith, on 
 our minds, pictures and statuary have a great effect in 
 suppressing interfering echoes in churches. The sound- 
 board of the preacher is intended to have this effect, by 
 intercepting the voice before it can reach any echoing- 
 surface ; and it answers the purpose well, especially if 
 lined with velvet, or made of any soft or vibrating sub- 
 stance, which receiving, and as it were absorbing the 
 vibrations of the voice, does not reflect them. 
 
 2. T/ieatresand nntsic-rooms. The object of a theatre is 
 to exhibit an extent of scenery to the view, as well as to 
 convey a variety of sounds to the ear. One side or half of 
 the room is therefore necessarily devoted to the voice, the 
 place of which is not fixed, but only limited, to any point 
 within that side ; the hearci-s being confined to the other. 
 
 All the general principles, which apply to lecture- 
 rooms apply to theatres. The best fonn is the semi- 
 circle, and the best ceiling, the semi-spherical. The extent 
 which this article already occupies forbids my entering 
 into the very useful disquisition of that proportion of 
 the height of the ceiling to that of the walls occupied 
 by boxes and galleries, and to the diameter of the house, 
 which affords the greatest advantage of hearing dis- 
 tinctly what is uttered on any part of the stage. And 
 this disquisition is the less necessary, because the econo- 
 my of space, and the technical arrangements of a theatre, 
 and of the space under the roof, render the rules of 
 construction which the principles of acoustics prescribe, 
 practicable only in small theatres. The sacrifice which 
 in large houses of tliis kind would be made of the room 
 within the roof would be too considerable. On this 
 subject, see the article Civil Architecture and Theatre. 
 
 Music-rooms require a separate consideration. The 
 Q 2
 
 124. 
 
 VCR 
 
 ACR 
 
 declamation of the stage ought to be adapted in its de- 
 gree of rapidity to the size of the house : and a good actor 
 knows how to measure the pace of his recitation to 
 the greatest advantage, on each stage which he treads. 
 Primary echo therefore may in a theatre be advantage- 
 ously allowed. But in a music-room, echo is the de- 
 struction of the clear articulation so necessary to give 
 cflcct to melody, and to the distinct succession and mo- 
 dulation of chords, without which harmony cannot be 
 understood, or produce its effect. Whoever has been 
 accustomed to attend the European cathedral service, and 
 has been placed in situations in which the echo equalled 
 the original sound in intenseness, must have observed 
 its injurious effect, excepting in very slow successions 
 of chords. In concert -halls, in which very rapid music 
 is to be occasionally performed, there should be no per- 
 ceptible echo. The audience, if numerous, is security 
 against echo from the floor and from a part of the walls ; 
 ■.aid the decorations of the walls themselves, and the 
 draperies destroy the remainder. But experience proves 
 that the destruction of echo may be carried too far even 
 in concert-rooms ; and singers, who are not encouraged 
 by the echo of their own voice, complain exceedingly 
 of the distress they suffer. That part therefore of a 
 concert-room, in which the musicians and singers are 
 
 placed, should be free from the kind of furniture and 
 decoration which destroys echo ; and although I have 
 no experience to warrant the assertion, I am oi opinion 
 that a cylindrical wall behind them at no great distance 
 would advantageously increase, without confusing, the 
 effects of the music. 
 
 3. I^igislative Halls, HalLi of Debate., Courts of Ju»- 
 tice. — The construction of legislative halls to the best 
 advantage of hearing and speaking, is attended with 
 many difficulties wliich are not to be encountered in any 
 room, in which the place of the voice is fixed, or Imiited 
 to a small compass. 
 
 If perfect silence could be preserved in these rooms, 
 there would be no difficulty which could not be over- 
 come, by adhering to those general principles of construc- 
 tion, which apply to the other classes, excepting one : — 
 the back of the speaker must necessarily be often placed 
 towards the hearer; and on the other hand the back of 
 the hearers must often be turned to the speaker. With- 
 out entering at present more particularly ijito this pait 
 of the subject, the reader is referred to the article 
 Civil Architecture, for the construction which in most 
 respects is found to be the best adapted to its pur- 
 pose. Latrobe. 
 
 ACQUAPENDENTE. See Fabuicius. 
 
 ACRA, AcARA, AcRON, or Alcrou, in geography, 
 once a distinct kingdom, now a dependent district of the 
 kingdom of Aquamboe, on the coast of Guinea, in Afri- 
 ca. Here the English, Dutch, and Danes, have forts, 
 ■accounted the best on the whole coast. That of the 
 English is called fort James ; the Dutch, Creveceur; 
 and the Danish, Christianburgh. Each fort has its se- 
 parate village, which are all included under the name of 
 Acra. At Acra alone there is found more gold tlian on 
 the whole coast; and its commerce, already extensive, 
 would be still farther increased, were it not perpetually 
 interrupted by continual quarrels between the natives 
 of Aquamboe and Akcm. The country is fertile, and 
 abovmds in game. This province contains three villages 
 upon the coast, viz. Soco, Orsaca, and the Lesser Acra. 
 The village of Great Acra is six leagues from the sea. 
 The village of Lesser Acra furnishes one third of the 
 gold found on the whole coast. It is brought from the 
 country of Abonoe and the province of Acania. See 
 Dapper's Dcscri/Uion de VAJriquc, p. 287. N. Lat. SO'^ 
 -10'. E. Long. 1° 29'. (^) 
 
 ACRA, and Acro, when forming a part of the Greek 
 names of places, always imply that the place is situated 
 upon an enciinence, as Acragas, Acroceraunia. (to) 
 
 ACRAGAS. See Agrigentum. 
 
 ACRE, or Acra, a sea port town in Syria, formerly 
 called Ptolemais, from one of the Ptolemies; and Acra, 
 on account of its fortifications. Its Arabian name is 
 Akka, which greatly resembles its ancient Hebrew ap- 
 pellation Acco or Accho. Acre is surrounded by an ex- 
 tensive and fertile plain on the north and east : On the 
 west it is washed by the Mediterranean; and on the 
 south there is a semicircular bay nine miles long, which 
 extends from the city to Mount Carmel. 
 
 TJiis town has been celebrated in history, as the thea- 
 
 tre of several important transactions. During the holy 
 war, it was the principal scene of contention between 
 the Christians and Infidels. Saladin, king of Egypt, ob- 
 tained possession of it in 1187; and, soon after, it was 
 invested by the combined forces of all the Christians in 
 Palestine. For two years, it was defended with the most 
 obstinate bravery ; an incredible number ol troops, both 
 European and Asiatic, were destroyed; nor did it sur- 
 render till the assailants were reinforced by the armies 
 of Philip Augustus of France, and Richard I. of Eng- 
 land, two monarchs, whose ardour in the sacred cause, 
 and whose emulation of each other's fame, incited them 
 to extraordinary efforts of valour. The Saracens, re- 
 duced to the last extremity, could not long hold out 
 against such formidable enemies, and, on the 12th of 
 July, 1191, they surrendered themselves prisoners of 
 war. Thus, after losing more than 100,000 men, the 
 Christians became masters of Acre, a strong position, 
 and commodious harbour; they procured the restoration 
 of their fellow Christians, who had been taken by the 
 Infidels; and once more obtained possession of the wood 
 of the true cross. Saladin, however, having refiised to 
 ratify the capitulation, Richard I. ordered 5000 of the 
 Saracen captives to be butchered ; and this act of wan- 
 ton cruelty compelled Saladin to retaliate upon the 
 Christians. Almost a century posterior to this event, 
 when, after many unsuccessful attempts to recover the 
 Holy Land, Jerusalem was wrested from the Christians, 
 Acre became their metropolis in Syria, and was adorned 
 with many useful and elegant works; pilgrims and fu- 
 gitives augmented its population ; and the advantages 
 of its situation attracted the trade both of the East and 
 West. At this time, extreme licentiousness prevailed 
 in the city, which the feeble efforts of government were 
 insufficient to restrain. The adjacent Mahometan vil- 
 lages were plundered by gangs of banditti, who sallied
 
 ACR 
 
 ACJ{ 
 
 125 
 
 forth under the banners of the cross. Nineteen Syrian 
 merchants were robbeil and ignominiously murdered, 
 yet satisfaction was demanded in vain. Incensed by 
 these enormities, the suhan Khalil advanced agauist 
 Acre with a powerful army, provided with a formidable 
 train of artillery. The Moslems, after a siege of thirty- 
 three days, succeeded in storming the town, and 60,000 
 Christians were either butchered or made slaves. The 
 fortress of tlie Templars was demolished ; their grand- 
 master was slain ; and of 500 knights, only ten survived. 
 Of the fugitives, a very few arrived in safety in the 
 island of Cyprus. This siege was distinguished by an 
 act of female resolution, scarcely paralleled in history. 
 A number of beautiful young nuns, dreading the viola- 
 tion of their chastity by the brutal Saracens, determined 
 to render themselves objects of aversion, by mangling 
 their faces in the most shocking manner ; and when the 
 conquerors eritered the city, they were so disappointed 
 at the disgusting appearance of these virgins, that they 
 put them all to the sword. 
 
 Acre, after being thus desolated, remained almost 
 wholly deserted, till the year 1750, when it was fortified 
 by Daher, an Arabian scheik, who maintained his inde- 
 pendence for many years against the Ottoman power, 
 and was at length basely assassinated, at the advanced 
 age of 86, by the emissaries of the pacha, against whose 
 tyranny he had, through life, defended his people. Acre 
 has since been rendered, by the works of Djezzar, one 
 of the principal towns upon the Syrian coast. His 
 mosque is admired as one of the finest specimens of 
 Eastern architecture. The bazar, or covered market, 
 vies with those of Aleppo; and the public fountain, 
 though the water is of indifferent quality, exceeds even 
 those of Damascus in elegance. Of these works the 
 pacha has the sole merit, as he both planned them, and 
 superintended the execution; yet, amidst all these im- 
 provements, the fortifications of Acre, though they had 
 been frequently repaired, continued so insignificant, that 
 they were incapable of withstanding any hostile assault. 
 When the French approached the city, in the spring of 
 the year 1799, a few wretched low towers, mounted with 
 lUsty iron cannon, some of which burst every time a 
 round was fired, constituted its whole defence. In these, 
 the pacha Djezzar, who had already evacuated CaifTa, 
 placed so little confidence, that he was preparing to 
 make good his retreat, and to convey to some place of 
 security his women and treasure, when sir Sydney Smith 
 anchored with his squadron in the road of Caiffa, and 
 sent colonel Philipcaux, a French engineer, to assist 
 the pacha in fortifying the town. Djezzar, thus encou- 
 raged, determined to hold out to the last. Caiffa was 
 occupied by the French advanced guard, commanded 
 by Klebcr, and the investment of Acre was completed 
 by Bonaparte. But all their exertions, extraordinary as 
 they were, were baffled by the vigilance, the activity, 
 and the valour of sir Sydney Smith. In vain did they 
 try every variety of attack. The garrison, assisted by 
 the English marines, repulsed them on every occasion 
 with great slaughter; and, after sustaining many irre- 
 parable losses, particularly of his battering pieces and 
 stores, Bonaparte announced to the army his intention 
 of raising the siege. Accordingly, he began his retreat 
 on the 20th of May, the sixty-first day after breaking the 
 ground. On this occasion uncommon spirit was dis- 
 played, and wonderful achievements performed, both by 
 the besieged and their assailants; but on both sides 
 
 cruelties were committed, and distresses endured, 
 which humanity shudders on recollecting. 
 
 Acre, possessed of every natural advantage, is daily 
 increasing in prosperity. Corn and cotton are the staple 
 articles of its conunerce ; but the trade has lately been 
 monopolized by the pacha, without any exception even 
 hi favour of the European merchants. The French had 
 six mercantile houses in Acre, over which a consul pre- 
 sided ; and Russia has recently established here a resi- 
 dent. Acre is situated 27 miles south of Tyre, and 
 about 70 miles north of Jerusalem; in Lat. 32" 40' N. 
 Lon. 39" 25' E. See Hume's Hist. vol. ii. p. 14, 23. 
 Gibbon's Bkt. chap. lix. vol. ii. p. 128, 147, kc. {k) 
 
 ACRE, a measure of superficies. Sec Measures. 
 
 ACRIDOPHAGI, from xy-qm, lucusi, and tpxyu, to 
 cat, a nation so denominated by the ancients from the 
 nature of their food. The exact situation of their coun- 
 try is not ascertained, whence many of the moderns 
 have considered their existence as entirely fabidous. It 
 is pi-obable, however, that this incredulity lias, in a great 
 measure, arisen from an invincible repugnance to be- 
 lieve that an animal, which has ever been the type of 
 pestilence and destruction, should at any time have been 
 used in sustaining life. The most distinct account of 
 the Acridophagi is given by Diodorus Siculus, who de- 
 scribes them as " an Ethiopian nation, veiy black, of 
 meagre person, and small stature. They were so short 
 lived, that their life never exceeded forty years; and 
 they generally died a wretched death. Winged insects, 
 of a hideous form, were generated in their bodies, be- 
 ginning in the breast and belly, and gradually spreading 
 over the whole Trame. Excruciating torments, attended 
 with effusions of putrid blood, were occasioned by these 
 animals when forcing their way through the skin ; and 
 the miserable sufferer uttering lamentable cries, made 
 way for them with his nails. At length he expired, hav- 
 ing his body covered with innumerable ulcers. During 
 spring, when the warm west winds drive immense 
 swarms of locusts among the Acridophagi, they set fire 
 to wood and other combustibles in a steep and extensive 
 valley, and the flight of locusts in passing over it, were 
 suffocated by the smoke. They were then collected in 
 heaps, and salted for future use." 
 
 Strabo coincides with Diodorus in assigning the same 
 country to the Acridophagi. Agatharcides, a Greek 
 historian, who lived prior to the time both of Strabo and 
 Diodorus, also places tliem in Etliiopia, though appa- 
 rently in a different part of that extensive country. Ac- 
 cording to Pliny, the Parthians fed on locusts, which he 
 infers was not in consequence of scarcity, as they abound- 
 ed in wealth ; and the females full of eggs were preferred, 
 .ffilian, the naturalist, says, they were sold in Egypt for 
 food ; and various Greek authors mention, that they 
 were used as sustenance by the lowest orders in Greece. 
 But if Aristophanes and Athenaeus mean tliis identical 
 animal, at one time it seems to have been sought after 
 as a delicacy and publicly sold. St Jcrom, who lived 
 in the fifth century, speaks of the "Orientals and inha- 
 bitants of Libya eating locusts, where they appear in im- 
 mense clouds." Several other ancient authors agree in 
 asserting, that these animals were an article of food in 
 various nations. 
 
 The same custom has been transmitted to the present 
 day. Locusts are used as food by different tribes of 
 Arabia, who even catch them in great quantities, and 
 bring them to the public markets for sale. Niebuhr.
 
 126 
 
 ACR 
 
 ACT 
 
 the Danisli travellep, observes, that the locust arrives 
 lean and emaciated, and that it is only after it has fatten- 
 ed on the herbage, that the Arabs consider it a delicacy ; 
 and the female, when full of eggs, is thought an invigo- 
 rating food for men. The Jews, as well as the Arabs, 
 eat them. Ur Shaw compares the taste of the locusts of 
 Barbary, where they are also eaten, to that of era) -fish. 
 Hasselquist, a pupil of the celebrated Linnaeus, during 
 his travels in Syria and Egypt, learned, that the Arabs 
 and Ethiopians ate locusts ; and, when a scarcity pre- 
 vailed at Mecca, that they were bruised in mortars, and 
 baked into cakes, which were used as bread ; and that 
 they were likewise eaten when there was no scarcity, 
 though prepared in a different manner. Sparrmann in- 
 forms us, that the Hottentots feed on the immense 
 swarms of locusts that appear at different intervals, and 
 chiefly prefer the females, which are more easily caught 
 from the shortness of their wings, and the distention of 
 their bodies with eggs. All these facts are confirmed 
 by other travellers, whence there is no doubt that both 
 ancient and modern nations have fed on locusts ; and the 
 various modes in which they arc yet prepared, may vie 
 with the nicest refinements of European luxury. 
 
 Hence it is obvious, that the passage of scripture 
 which states that St John fed on locusts in the wilder- 
 ness, which has often been the subject of commentary, 
 involves no obscurity, except that which ignorance of 
 ancient customs has thrown over it. For although some 
 have supposed, that his food was the tops of certain 
 plants, and others have thought that the words transla- 
 ted locusts here signifies quails, nothing but the literal 
 interpretation of the words is required for understand- 
 ing the passage. See Diodorus Siculits, lib. xxiv. cap. 3. 
 Strabo, lib. xvi. Agatharcides, Periplus de Rubro Mari. 
 
 Julian, lib. vi. cap. 20. Athenxus, lib. xlix. Plin. Hist. 
 
 JVliC. lib. vi. and xi. Hieronymi Ofiera, tom. iv. Hassel- 
 quist's Travels. Shaw's Travels, p. 258. Sparrmann's 
 Voyage. Niebuhr Descrifition de fArabie. Barrow's 
 Travels, vol. i. Drake's Voyages. Buffon, Hist. JVat. 
 vol. vi. p. 216. (c) 
 
 ACROAMATIC, or Acroatic, the name given to 
 Aristotle's secret lectures on the abstruse points in phi- 
 losophy, in which he aimed at demonstration. Those 
 disciples, who were allowed to attend them, were called 
 Acroainatici. See Exoteric, (to) 
 
 ACROCERAUNIA, called likewise Ceraunia, or 
 MoNTES Cerauxii, mountaiiis of Epirus, projecting 
 into the sea, and extremely dangerous to mariners. 
 They dei'ived their name from the Greek word Kt^avioi, 
 thunder; because they were so lofty as to be frequently 
 struck with thunder. They extended from west to east, 
 as far as Cindus, in N. Lat. 40° 25', separating the Io- 
 nian from the Adriatic sea. Here was the shortest pas- 
 sage from Greece to Italy. The Acroceraunia are 
 now called Monti della Cliimera. Strabo, vi. Plin. iv. 
 cap. 1. {k) 
 
 ACROCHORDUS, a genus of serpents. See Ophi- 
 
 OLOGY. (/) 
 
 ACRON. See Acra. 
 
 ACROCORINTHUS, a high hill, on which was built 
 the citadel of Corinth, called by the same name. The 
 situation of this mountain rendered the possession of it 
 highly important. It separated the Peloponnesus from 
 the rest of Greece ; its fortress cut off all communica- 
 tion by land with the country witliin the isthmus of Co- 
 rinth ; and was therefore called by Philip of Macedon, 
 tiie fetters of Greece. A temple of Venus stood at the 
 
 entrance of the citadel ; and from a loweJ* part of the 
 hill issued the fountain Pyrene. {k) 
 
 ACRONICAL, from a.x.^oi6x,'>'i, compounded ot ccK^ti, 
 the e.ctremily, and n/|, night. The rismg and setting of 
 a star, or planet, is said to be acronical, when this phe- 
 nomenon happens just as the sun is descending below 
 the horizon, (w) 
 
 ACROPOLIS, the citadel of Athens, built on an emi- 
 nence, wliich was accessible only on one side. Here 
 the Athenians, induced by the natural strength of the 
 place, built their first city, which, from that circum- 
 stance, was ever afterwards distinguished by the name 
 of Polis. It was called likewise Acropolis, the Upper 
 City, in contradistinction to that which was afterwards 
 built in the adjacent plain. It was encompassed by a 
 wall, the northern part of which was built by the Pelas- 
 gi ; the southern, by Cimon, son of Miltiades, out of the 
 Persian spoils. From its nine gates, it was called En- 
 neajiylon, tliough it had only one principal entrance, the 
 ascent to which was by a magnificent flight of steps, 
 composed of white marble, and built under the direction 
 of Pericles. See Pausan. In Attic. (/(■) 
 
 ACROSTIC, from ajijo?, the extremity, and c~rix«f, a 
 ■verse, is a name generally applied to poetical composi- 
 tions, in which the initial or final letters of every line 
 fonn the name of some person or thing, (ro) 
 
 ACROSTICHUM, a genus of plants belonging to the 
 class Cryptogamia, and order Filices. See Botany, (w) 
 
 ACT of Faith. See Auto de Fe, and Inquisition. 
 
 ACT, the name of the parts into which every drama- 
 tic poem is divided, in order to relieve the audience and 
 the actors. In the Grecian drama there were no acts ; 
 but the same purpose seems to have been partly answer- 
 ed by their episodes, choruses. Sec. The stage, how- 
 ever, was never empty, and the representation of the 
 piece suffered no interruptions. It appears from Ho- 
 race's Art of Poetry, line 189 — 194, tliat the Romans 
 uniformly divided their plays into five acts ; and that 
 the time between each act was spent in singing, and 
 similar amusements. The comedies of Terence, and 
 the tragedies of Seneca, consist universally of five acts. 
 See Drama, (to) 
 
 ACT.1EA, a genus of plants of the class Polyandria, 
 and order Monogynia. See Bota?(y. (to) 
 
 ACTINIA, a genus of animals belonging to the order 
 Mollusca, of the class of Vermes. See Animal Flow- 
 er, and Helminthology. (y") 
 
 ACTION, a term of the Roman law, adopted into that 
 of all modern states, which is thus explained in the In- 
 stitutes of Justinian: — '■'■Actio nihil aliud est tjuam jus 
 persequendi quod sibi debetur." 
 
 The mode of obtaining justice, among the Romans, 
 was to summon the defender into court, which the pur- 
 suer, or plaintiff", might do verbally ; and if he failed ia 
 compliance, he might force him into the presence of the 
 magistrate. Sureties were then given for appearance 
 on a certain day. 
 
 The parlies having come into court, the plaintiff stated 
 his cause before the praetor, in a certain form of words, 
 which varied only according to the nature of the action. 
 The praetor immediately appointed judges to deteiTiiine 
 the point. The litigants had next to find sureties to 
 fulfil the judgment, whatever it might be, to each other. 
 The cause was decided, after the judges had taken a 
 solemn oath to preserve impartiality. 
 
 Actions were divided into real, personal, and mixed, 
 and each of these classes branched out into numerous
 
 ACT 
 
 ACT 
 
 127 
 
 subdivisions. See Ju.itinian. Instil, lib. iv. tit. 4 ; aild 
 Gibbon's Hint. chap. xliv. vol. viii. p. 75. (r) ^ 
 
 ACTION, in Mechanics, is, properly speaking, the 
 motion which one body either produces, or lends to pro- 
 duce, in another body; though it lias been generally 
 employed to denote tlie effect 'which one power exerts 
 agamst another power. 
 
 The PrincifiU' uf least Action, was a name given by 
 Maupcrtuis to the law, tliat when any bodies, acting 
 upon one another, suffer any cliange in their motion, 
 tlie mass, multiplied by the space and the velocity, or 
 the quantity ol" action which nature employs to effect 
 this change, is the least possible. This principle was 
 attacked, as false, by Koenig, a professor at the Hague, 
 who also maintamcd, that Leibnitz had described the 
 .same principle in ITu", in a letter to Herman. This 
 attack gave rise to a long and keen dispute, in which 
 the Academy of Berlin interfered in behalf of their pre- 
 sident. The principle of least action was extended by 
 Euler, who proved, " that, in the trajectoris described 
 by means of central forces, the product of the integral 
 of the velocity, and the clement of the curve, is either a 
 minimum or a maximum." This new law, which Euler 
 j-ecogniscd only in the case of insulated bodies, was still 
 farther generalized by La Grange, who found, " that the 
 sum of the products of the masses by the integrals of 
 the velocities, multiplied by the elements of the spaces, 
 is always a minimum or a maximum." This principle 
 has been employed by La Grange with great success, in 
 the solution of many difficult dynamical problenis. See 
 Mem. Acad. Par. 1744; 1749, p. 531, 8vo. p. 771; 1752, 
 p. 503, 8vo. p. 765. Mem. Acad. Berlin, 1746, p. 267; 
 1750; 1752; 1753, p. 310. Act. Lifts. Mart. 1751. Ru- 
 ler's Traite des laajierimetries Lausanne, 1744. La 
 Grange's Mecanique Analytigue, 1788, p. 189. Com- 
 ment. Bonon. torn. vi. Afov. Comment. Petrojt. torn. XX. 
 p. 239. See Mechanics, (to) 
 
 ACTION, in Oratory, the adaption of the gestures 
 and attitudes of the body to the tlioughts and feelings 
 of the mind, intended to be conveyed by the speaker. 
 There is always a sympathy between the body and the 
 mind, and the one cannot be powerfully affected without 
 a corresponding change taking place in the other. A 
 powerful emotion becomes immediately manifest by its 
 effects upon the voice, countenance, and gestures of the 
 person who feels it; and if these appropriate effects of 
 strong feeling are not discernible, we find it difficult to 
 persuade ourselves that strong feeling is really excited, 
 but are disposed to think that it is only dissembled. 
 
 Pleads he in earnest ? Look upon his face ; 
 
 His eyes do drop no tears ; his prayers are jest ; 
 
 His words come from his mouth ; cms fi'om our breast ; 
 
 We pray with heart and soul. — Shakspeare. 
 
 There is something contagious in the appropriate 
 looks and gestures of emotion ; insomuch that tlie most 
 ordinary matter uttered with just action will make a 
 deep impression upon an audience, when matter greatly 
 more valuable, if delivered without this advantage, will 
 be hardly listened to. The effect of pantomime exhibi- 
 tions powerfully illustrates this, and shows that sfieaking 
 is but one department of oi-atory. It is well known, 
 that the greatest of orators, Demosthenes, placed the 
 first, second, and third perfection of an accomplished 
 speaker in c/ocz<non; by which we are to understand, 
 not only just pronunciation, but appropriate action ; and 
 the same celebrated character while he endeavoured to 
 
 correct a defect in his articulation, by speaking with 
 pebbles in his mouth, was no less solicitous to conquer a 
 laulty altitude to which he was liable, iiy practising with 
 a drawn sword suspended over his shoulder. 
 
 Minute and elaborate rules have l)een given by Quin- 
 tilian, and other ancient rhetoricians, for perfecting the 
 orator in this difficult branch of his art; and a late inge- 
 nious writer has endeavoured to express the gestures 
 appropriate to the different kinds of speaking, by writ- 
 ten characters. (See Austin's Chironomia.) We arc 
 not, however, of opinion, that much benefit can be de- 
 rived from studying the subject in this way. In order 
 to produce a just cflect, action must be easy and unaffec- 
 ted, not stiff and artificial. It must not seem to be stu- 
 died, but to flow from the impulse of the moment. If an 
 orator, when he delivers a speech, has his attitudes pre- 
 viously arranged in his mind, and each introduced at a 
 determinate place, he may earn the reputation of a good 
 actor, but will scarcely ever be deemed a powerful and 
 persuasive speaker. We do not, however, deny, that 
 considerable benefit may be obtained from studying the 
 rules of the best writers on this subject; but we are of 
 opinion, that much more may be reaped from the study 
 of nature ; /. e. by observing how men of accomplished 
 minds, and elegant address, demean themselves, when 
 they are expressing any thing with energy; and how 
 they vary the gesticulation as the emotion varies. Ac- 
 tion is the natural, and not the artificial expression of 
 feeling ; and in an ordinary conversation of genteel com- 
 pany, an attentive observer may detect all those gesti- 
 culations by which an orator enchants his audience. 
 
 Of the two extremes, a deficient, is undoubtedly less 
 faulty than a redundant action. It is less disgusting to 
 see a speaker stand lifeless like a statue, than to find 
 him constantly in motion, and practising a regular round 
 of gesticulations, and grimaces, which can excite no 
 other emotion than ridicule. This is the " tearing the 
 passion to rags," which Hamlet so justly reprehends. 
 It is, however, much easier to say what gestures are 
 wrong, than what are strictly proper. But one thing 
 seems sufficiently manifest, that in public speaking, the 
 exertions of action and emphasis should be reserved lor 
 the parts which are truly pathetic, and not wasted upon 
 the common and trivial. If a speaker utters common 
 things in a calm manner, he will the more readily grow 
 vehement when the subject is animating; and on that 
 account will be more apt to affect his audience, than if 
 he had employed vehemence of manner in every part. 
 See Or.\tory. (»;) 
 
 ACTION, in Poetry, is the chain of events, either 
 real or fictitious, which form the subject of an epic or a 
 dramatic poem. See Poetry, (to) 
 
 ACTIUM, an inconsiderable town in Acarnania, re- 
 markable only for the victory which Augustus gained 
 there over Antony and Cleopatra, {k) 
 
 ACTOR, in the Drama, one who represents some 
 person, or character, on the stage. Among the Greeks, 
 with whom theatrical entertainments sccin to have ori- 
 ginated, the drama at first consisted of a simple chorus, 
 who sung hymns, probably in alternate stanzas, in ho- 
 nour of Bacchus. To relieve the audience from the fa- 
 tiguing sameness of these musical exhibitions, Thespis, 
 a native of Attica, introduced a declaimer, whose busi- 
 ness it was to recite the adventures of some of the Gre- 
 cian heroes. iEschylus still further diversified the en- 
 tertainment, by changing these declamations into dia- 
 logues between two persons; and adopting a loftier
 
 128 
 
 ACT 
 
 ACT 
 
 style, and dressing his actors in a more splendid man- 
 ner, gave tlie first lineaments of a regular tragedy. 
 Sophocles rendered it more perfect, by introducing a 
 third person ; and the Greeks, following him as their 
 model, never brought more than three persons at once 
 upon the stage. Among the Romans, too, who, in all 
 matters of taste, were directed by the practice of the 
 Greeks, it was adopted as a rule, that no fourth person 
 should be allowed to take part in the dialogue : 
 
 ' Ncc quarta loqui persona laboret." 
 Ado p 
 
 Ars Poet. 1. 192. 
 
 The restriction, however, only extended to tragedy ; 
 for in comedy, the number of actors might be varied at 
 pleasure. Such arbitrary restrictions are extremely in- 
 judicious. By introducing a too precise uniformity into 
 dramatic compositions, they are apt to render them stiff, 
 tedious, and uninteresting ; and it is none of the least im- 
 provements in the modern drama, that, by uitroducing a 
 greater mmibcr of characters on the stage, the bustle 
 and distress of the scene is heightened, and a diversity 
 is occasioned, which never fails to excite interest. 
 
 The ancient actors were at great pains to qualify 
 themselves for the different characters in which they 
 wished to excel. Some contended with the wrestlers in 
 the palestrae, in order to acquire greater vigour and sup- 
 pleness of body ; while others subjected themselves to 
 a strict regimen, to render their voices more ductile and 
 sonorous. The principal actors would never allow ano- 
 ther to speak before them, lest he should prepossess the 
 audience ; and the inferior performers were obliged to 
 lower their voices, though clear and sonorous, that they 
 might not be louder than their superiors. The size of 
 the theatres obliged them to speak very loud, and to line 
 the mouth of their masks with brass, in order to give 
 clearness and strength to their voice. A musician play- 
 ed a prelude on the flute to give them the proper tone ; 
 and accompanied them while they declaimed, to prevent 
 their voices from sinking too low. Their dress always 
 corresponded to the character in which they appeared ; 
 and every expedient was employed to delude the audi- 
 ence into a momentary belief of the reality of the scenes 
 represented before them. It is said of Polus, a celebra- 
 ted Athenian performer, that when he was to personate 
 Electra, in one of the tragedies of Sophocles, he caused 
 the urn which contained the ashes of a son whom he had 
 recently lost, to be conveyed to the theatre ; and when 
 the princess is represented as clasping the supposed urn 
 of her brother Orestes, the actor seized that of his son 
 with a trembling hand, and uttered such piercing ac- 
 cents of grief, as forced torrents of tears from the sym- 
 pathizing audience. A first rate performer never ap- 
 peared in any odious or contemptible character, whate- 
 ver scope it miglit give to his professional talents ; for 
 which reason the part of a tyrant, so much detested in 
 Greece, was always abandoned to the subordinate actors. 
 In Greece the profession of a player was lucrative and 
 respectable. Polus sometimes gained a talent (225 /. ster- 
 ling) in two days. They enjoyed all the privileges of 
 citizens, and often rose to the most honourable employ- 
 ments. At Rome, actors were reckoned infamous ; de- 
 graded from their rank as citizens ; expelled their tribe, 
 and deprived of the right of suffrage by censors. In 
 France, they are as much despised as they were formerly 
 at Rome. In England, they enjoy almost as high a degree 
 f;f respectability as they did among the Greeks, {k) 
 
 ACTRESS, a woman, who personates any charactCT 
 on the stage. 
 
 Among the ancients, who had no actresses, female 
 characters were generally represented by eunuchs, 
 whose voice resembles that of women. Sporus the eu- 
 nuch, so famous in the reign of Nero, was compelled by 
 Vitellius to personate a young girl in the theatre ; an 
 ignominy by which he was so deeply affected, that he 
 thrust a sword through his breast. 
 
 Actresses are said to have been first introduced on the 
 English stage by King Charles II., afterhis restoration; 
 yet we learn from history, that the queen of James I. act- 
 ed a part in a pastoral ; and Prynn, in his Histriomastix, 
 speaks of female actors in his time as prostitutes. Ac- 
 tresses have always been regarded with less respect and 
 indulgence than male performers ; and the public senti- 
 ment in this respect is certainly just. Theatrical exhi- 
 bition must completely destroy that modest reserve, 
 that soft and shrinking delicacy, which gives beauty its 
 most winning chaiTn ; and the female characters in our 
 drama are often so grossly licentious, that no woman of 
 virtuous principle can personate them without repug- 
 nance. Yet we do not mean to say, that the character 
 of actresses ought indiscriminately to be suspected or 
 despised. The exemplary conduct and distinguished re- 
 spectability of many of our modern actresses would be 
 sufficient to refute such an injurious insinuation, (/c) 
 
 ACTS OF THE Apostles, one of the books of sacred 
 Scripture, was written by the Evangelist Luke ; and 
 seems to have been completed about the year 63. Luke 
 is supposed to have been one of the seventy, whom our 
 Lord sent out to preach the gospel ; and is acknowledged 
 to have been the companion of the Apostle Paul in his 
 travels. He was himself therefore an actor, and an eye- 
 witness, in most of the events which he records ; and 
 was well c[ualified to detail and describe them. He ad- 
 dresses the book of Acts to the same person, to whom he 
 had addressed his former treatise ; and he seems to say 
 himself, that he intended it as a continuation of the his- 
 tory, which he had begun to give in his gospel. There 
 can be no doubt, that many things were done by the 
 apostles, which are not recorded in the book of Acts ; 
 and that many of the events, which have been mention- 
 ed, are narrated very concisely. The writer evidently 
 confines himself to a few of the principal transactions 
 and miracles in the early progress of Christianity ; and 
 particularly to the preaching of the apostles, Peter and 
 Paul. He gives an account of the ascension of Jesus 
 Christ ; the descent of the Holy Spirit upon the apos- 
 tles ; and the first preaching of the gospel. He describes 
 the rapid increase of the Christian church at Jerusalem ; 
 the circumstances which attended the preaching of the 
 Apostle Peter to the Gentiles ; and their admission to 
 the privileges of the gospel. He particularly depicts, 
 in a very interesting manner, the miraculous conversion 
 of Paul ; and then restricts his narrative chiefly to the 
 actions of that apostle. He relates his first preaching 
 at Antioch, in Syria ; and details three extensive jour- 
 neys, which he made at different times, to the principal 
 places in Greece and Asia. Having detailed, in the 
 course of his narrative, many miraculous testimonies to 
 the truth of Christianity, and described many eminent 
 examples of the Christian character, the writer con- 
 cludes with an account of Paul's voyage to Rome, in con- 
 sequence of his appeal to the emperor, and of his ira- 
 prisonment there for two years. As a historical compo- 
 sition, this book of the Acts of the Apostles is allowed.
 
 ADA 
 
 ADA 
 
 129 
 
 by;-^lie best, critics, to possess very great meri; ; and, a-s- 
 a part of the sacred wriiings, it has been almost univer- 
 sally received in tlic Christian church, upon tlic most un- 
 questionable evidence. 
 
 Several other writings have Ijecn proposed to the 
 Christian world, as containing farther accounts of the 
 acts of the apostles. These are ylcts of the Afiostlcs, 
 professed to have been written by Abdias, a pretended 
 bishop of Babylon ; Acts of St Peter, entitled also, I'/ie 
 Recognitions of Si Clement ; Acts of St Paul, containing 
 the history of that apostle Irom his imprisonment at 
 Rome to his death ; Acts of St John the Evangelist, Acts 
 of St Andreiu, and Acts of St Thomas, used by the Ma- 
 nichees ; Acts of St Philifi, acknowledged by the Gnos- 
 tics ; and Acts of St Matthias, which some Jews arc sup- 
 posed to have framed. All these books are support- 
 ed by no respectable testimony, and arc universally con- 
 sidered as spurious. They are so filled, indeed, with 
 ridiculous visions and foolish fables, as to afford suf- 
 ficient internal evidence for rejecting them from tlie 
 number of inspired writings, (y) 
 
 ACUPUNCTURE, a method of curing diseases by 
 pricking the parts affected with a silver needle. It is 
 much used in Siam, Japan, and other oriental nations, 
 where this operation is considered as a specific for al- 
 most every disorder. It is also employed in some parts 
 of America ; but more frequently as an ornament than 
 as a remedy. See Phil. Trans, vol. xiii. No. 1 48, p. 231. 
 1683 ; and Dampicr's Voyages, (w) 
 
 ADAGIO, or Adag, a term in music, which signi- 
 fies the second degree from slow to quick. It is com- 
 monly applied to those pieces of music, which should 
 be performed in slow time with grace and embellish- 
 ments. It is frequently used substantively, as when we 
 say " to play an adagio." (ly) 
 
 ADAM, the first man, and original progenitor of the 
 human race. The account of his creation given by Mo- 
 ses, independently of its inspired authority, possesses 
 every evidence of authenticity that can be reasonably de- 
 sired. Though short, it is comprehensive, and even 
 minute ; not, like the heathen traditions, confused or 
 contradictory, but clear and consistent ; and though not 
 compiled till about 2300 years after the event, the ex- 
 rraordinary longevity of the antediluvian patriarchs must 
 have secured, in a great measure, the accurate trans- 
 mission of it, through the family and descendants of 
 Abraham to Moses. The sacred historian relates, that 
 the body of Adam was formed, on the sixth day of the 
 iTcation, out of the dust of the ground, and that God 
 breathed into his nostrils the breath of life. He was pla- 
 ced in a delightful garden called Eden, i.e. Pleasure, 
 containing every thing necessary to his subsistence and 
 comfort. Dominion was given him over all the inferior 
 creatures ; and, when God made them pass before him 
 in the garden, he bestowed on each of them a name, suit- 
 ed to its nature, and probably descriptive of its princi- 
 pal qualities. The animals being created by pairs, male 
 and female, Adam alone was without a suitable compa- 
 nion ; which God perceiving, provided for his comfort, by 
 casting him into a deep sleep, taking a rib from his side, 
 and out of it forming a woman. ^ . 
 
 Both Adam and Eve are said to have been created in 
 the imao;e, and after the likeness, of Deity ; expressions 
 which cannot be well understood, if applied to their bo- 
 dily structure, but which convey the most important 
 meaning, when referred to their character as moral be- 
 ings. The ideas of kno\Yledge suited to this character, 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 of innocence, purity, and immortality, seem to be clearly 
 implied. But being moral agents, they were placed in 
 a state of probation ; and the test of obedience required 
 of them, was to abstain from eating the fruit of a parti- 
 cular tree, planted in the middle of the garden, and 
 named, fiom its peculiar design, the Tree of the Knov,'- 
 ledge of Good and Evil. This prohibition was enfor- 
 ced by the most awful sanction ; but the tempter under 
 the form of a serpent, by the most artftd insinuations, 
 prevailed with the woman to cat this forbidden fruit ; and 
 she seduced her husband hilo the same act of disobedi- 
 ence. The consequences of this conduct proved fatal to 
 their happiness, as well as to their inriocence. They 
 were punished by being subjected to the death with 
 which God threatened them ; the woman was doomed to 
 submission, and pain in child-bearhig ; and the man to 
 sorrow and toil. Ilavhig lost their purity, and being 
 ashamed of their nakedness, CJod made coverings of skins 
 for them, expelled them from Eden, and placed, at the 
 east of it, " cherubims and ajlaming sword," or a dividing 
 Jiamc, " which turned every way, to keep the way to the 
 tree of life." After this, Adam called his wife's name 
 E,ve, i. e. life or living, to signify that she Avas to be the 
 mother of the human race. 
 
 The name Adam, has furnished etymologists with a 
 fertile source of conjecture. It has frequently been de- 
 rived from noTS, red earth or vegetable mould. Ludol- 
 phus traces it to the Ethiopian root adama, to be /deasant 
 or beautiful, (Hist. Ethiofi. p. 77.) — Protogonus, the name 
 of the first man, according to Sanchoniatho, is supposed 
 to be a translation of the Egyptian title of Adam, taken 
 from the pillars of Troth ; and Mr Bryant says, that ad 
 and ada signify y?rs?, {Ant. Myth. vol. i. p. 23.) ; corres- 
 ponding to which is the query of sir William Jones, 
 whether it may not be derived froin Adim ? which in San- 
 scrit has the same meaning, and is a name of the first me- 
 nu. The opinion of Parkhurst, that it is derived from CDI, 
 to resemble or be like, appears the most probable, both 
 from Gen. i. 27. v. 2. and from ^c/am being the name of 
 man in general, including both sexes. For an account 
 of the opinions of Jewish Rabbis and Mahoinetans, and 
 the ancient traditions respecting Adam, see Eugubin. 
 afiud Saltan. Annal. t. 1. p. 106. Talmud in Lib. Sanhed. 
 Bartoloccii Sibl. Rabbin. 1. 1. p. 65. 322. Heidegger Hist. 
 Pat. t. 1. p. 85. Gem. Sanhed. p. 582. Vossius de Phi- 
 los. cap. 9. p. 71. Sale's A'ora;;. D'Herbelot's^B/ito?/;. 
 Orient. Percival's Account of Ceylon, v. i. p. 224. (rf) 
 
 ADAM, Robert, an eminent architect, bom at Edin- 
 burgh in 1728. He seems to have enjoyed a talent for 
 architecture by inheritance, as the works of his grand-, 
 father are said to have been peculiarly characterized by 
 taste ; and the genius of his father, William Adam of 
 Maryburgh in Fife, was eminently conspicuous in Hope- 
 toun House, in the Royal Infirmary, and in other build- 
 ings, both public and private. 
 
 His son Roljert studied at the university of Edinburgh 
 where he was associated with several cotemporaries, who 
 afterwards made a conspicuous figure in the annals of 
 literature. In 1754, he went to the continent, and resi- 
 ded three years in Italy, where, from the splendid mon- 
 uments of antiquity which that country presents to the 
 traveller, he imbibed that scientific style of design by 
 which all his works are distinguished. But it was only from 
 fragments that he was enabled to form his taste. He 
 saw, with deep regret, that the ravages of time, and the 
 hands of barbarians, had conspired for the destruction 
 of those noble specimens of ancient grandeur ; and that 
 
 R
 
 .130 
 
 ADA 
 
 ADA 
 
 it was only in their ruins that he coutd study the archi- 
 tecture of the ancients. With the intention of viewing 
 a. more complete monument of ancient splendour, he un- 
 dertook a voyage to Spahitro in Dalnialia, where the 
 palace to which Dioclesian retired from the cares of 
 goveniment, still exhibited the remains of an extensive 
 pile. Mr Adam, accompanied by Mr Clerisseau, a 
 French artist, and two expert draughtsmen, sailed from 
 Venice in July 1754. They found the palace much de- 
 faced ; but as its remains still exhibited the nature of 
 the structure, they proceeded to a minute examination 
 of its various parts. Their labours, however, were im- 
 mediately interrupted by the interierence of government, 
 from a suspicion that they were making plans of the for- 
 tifications. Fortunately however, general Grsme, com- 
 mander in chief of the Venetian forces, interposed ; and, 
 being seconded by count Antonio Marcovich, they were 
 soon allowed to prosecute their designs. 
 
 Mr Adam returned to England in 1764, and publish- 
 <"d a splendid work, containing engravmgs and descrip- 
 tions of the ruins of the palace of Dioclesian, and of some 
 other buildings, which convey an accurate idea of the 
 original structure. Before this period, he had been ap- 
 pointed architect to the king and queen ; an office which 
 he resigned on being elected member of parliament for 
 the county of Kinross. About the year 1775, he, in con- 
 jitnction with his brother James, who was also an archi- 
 tect, published another splendid work, consisting of plans 
 and elevations of buildings, erected from tlieir designs. 
 Among these were several public and private edifices, 
 both in England and Scotland, that are universally ad- 
 jnired for the taste which they display, among which 
 are the Register Office, the New College of Edinburgh, 
 and the Royal Infirmary of Glasgow. 
 
 The vigour of Mr Adam's genius, and the refinement 
 of his taste, seem to have increased at the approach of 
 old age. In the course of the year preceding his death, 
 he designed no less than eight public buildings, and twen- 
 ty-five private ones, all of suigular variety and beauty. 
 
 This architect died, in 1792, by the bursting of a 
 blood-vessel, and was buried in Westminster Abbey, (c) 
 
 ADAM'S PEAK, or Hammaleel, a high and con- 
 spicuous mountain in the south part of the island of 
 Ceylon, situated about 60 miles to the east of Columbo. 
 It is of a conical form, terminating in a circular plane 
 about 200 yards in diameter; and is seen, by those who 
 sail along the south-west coast of the island, at the dis- 
 tance of 150 miles. Two smaller peaks rise from the 
 same mountain, and, when seen from some parts of the 
 interior, all the three peaks appear of the same height. 
 The summit of the mountain is said to be covered with 
 trees, and to have a deep lake, which forms the source 
 of the four principal rivers of Ceylon. Devotees from 
 the Indian coast frequently visit the places of worship 
 which they have erected on this mountain, and ascend 
 the steepest parts by means of ropes and chains fixed to 
 the rocks. The Roman Catholics, ever anxious about 
 the propagation of their faith, have built a chapel on the 
 mountain, in order to take advantage of the superstition 
 of the Indian pilgrims. Adam's Peak lies to the south- 
 east of Chilauw, and to the north by west of Dondar 
 Head, in E. Long. 80° 27' 36", and N. Lat. 7° 1' 50". 
 A view of Adam's Peak is given in lord Valentia's 
 Travels, vol. i. p. 166. See Cordincr's Descrijition of 
 Ceijlon,\'o\. i.p. 8. 1807; and Percival's Account of Cey- 
 lon, p. 224. 226. {w) 
 
 ADAMANT. Uic ancient name £?i' the dian^ojid. 
 
 It also signifies a species of highly tempered iron ; and 
 sometimes is used to denote the magnet. See Diamond, 
 and OiiYCTOGNosY. (w) 
 
 AD AMI PoMLM, a name given to the protuberance 
 hi the lore-part of the throat, occasioned by the pro- 
 jection of the thyroid cartilage oi the larynx. It received 
 this appellation from the idea, that it was occasioned by 
 a pait ol the forbidden fruit stickuig in Adam's throat, (f) 
 
 ADAMITES, or Adamians, according to the testi- 
 mony ot Epipnanius, were a sect of heretics in the se- 
 cond century, who assumed this title, m consequence of 
 their iniitatuig Adam's nakedness in a slate of inno- 
 cence, when they met for public worship in their smoky 
 and heated caverns or churches, which they called Pa- 
 radise. On entering these places, they threw off their 
 clothes, and resumed them when their worship was fin- 
 ished. Community of women is said to have been one 
 of their tenets, though they condemned matrimony, and 
 professed to live in solitude and continence. When any 
 of them violated the laws of the society, he was called 
 Adam, declared to have eaten the forbidden fruit, and 
 to be expelled from Paradise, by being excluded front 
 their assemblies. (^Ejiift/i. tijcrts. lii.) They are sup- 
 posed to have been a branch of the Carpockatiaxs and 
 13 AsiLiDiANS ; but Dr Lardner (vol. ix. p. 337, kc.) thinks, 
 that they never had any existence. Nor can it be denied, 
 that even Epiphanius, the earliest writer who mentions 
 them, has stated his information in such a hesitating 
 and ambiguous manner, as to leave a considerable sus- 
 picion in the reader's mind, that it is altogether ficti- 
 tious, (rf) 
 
 ADAMS, Samuel, late governor of Massachusetts, 
 eminent for his piety, and one of the most distinguished 
 heroes of the American Revolution, was descended from 
 ancestors highly respectable, and born in Boston on the 
 27th of September 1722. Having received the rudi- 
 ments of a liberal education at the grammar school under 
 the care of a Mr Lovell, he was admitted a student of 
 the university of Harvard in the year 1736. Here he 
 made considerable proficiency in classical learning, logic, 
 and m natural philosophy ; but, as he was designed for 
 the ministry, a profession to which he seems to have 
 been much inclmed, his studies were particularly direct- 
 ed to systematic divinity. He received the degree of 
 A. B. in 1740, and that of A. M. in 1743. Why he did 
 not assume the clerical character so congenial to his 
 views and habits does not appear. After he had retired 
 from the university, he attempted a concern in the busi- 
 ness in which his father had been engaged ; but it was 
 easily seen, tliat the propensities of his nervous and 
 elevated mind were not turned to the accumulation of 
 property or the charms of wealth. He was however 
 soon chosen to several public stations in his native town, 
 and in 1765 elected a member of the general assembly 
 of Massachusetts. He was a member of the legislature 
 nearly ten years ; and, while he gave repeated evidence 
 of that political cast of mind which influenced his after 
 conduct, he was the soul which animated that body to 
 its most important resolutions. In 1774 he became a 
 member of the general congress, in which station he 
 remained a number of years. Here he rendered the 
 most interesting services to his country. In this assem- 
 bly, where the foundation of the American Revolution was 
 formed, where the principles and systems of government 
 were drawn into discussion, his manly eloquence was 
 iievcv resisted with sticcess ; simple., yet vigorous and 
 
 J
 
 AiDA 
 
 ADA 
 
 131 
 
 , ADAMS, George, a celebrated optician, was bora 
 in 1750, and died on the 14th August 1795. He was 
 the auUior of Essays on the Microscope ; Essays on 
 
 persuasive, it was peculiarly adapted to tlie trying occa- 
 sions for which it was employed. 
 
 A period iji the life of Mr Adams, not to be overlook- 
 ed, was that in which he, with Mr Hancock, was pro- 
 scribed by the last act of the British government in 
 Massachusetts, at the same time that a general pardon 
 was granted to all who had rebelled. It has been said 
 that Mr Adams made the motion for independence : this 
 however is not correct. With Franklin, Hancock, and 
 others, he planned and signed the act which declared 
 the United States " free, sovereign, and independent :" 
 and during the eventful period of our revolutionary war, 
 no man exerted himself with greater energy, or was 
 more successful in the means of effecting that great 
 event, than the subject of this memoir. In 1780, he was 
 chosen a member of the senate in the legislature of Mas- 
 sachusetts, and was placed at the head of that respect- 
 ■al)le body. While in the discharge of these legislative 
 duties, the memorable insurrection in his native state 
 took place ; but, through the exertions of Mr Adams, the 
 most spirited measures were adopted, which were at- 
 tended with the most favourable results. Consequences 
 truly alarming were prevented, and the insurgents soon 
 convinced of their delusion. In this scene of adversity 
 when a civil war had commenced, with that uniformity 
 of conduct for which he was so remarkable, he declared 
 that republics could exist only by a due submission to 
 tlic laws ; that the laws ought to be put in force against 
 all opposition ; and that a government could be support- 
 ed only by the exertions of a virtuous and enlightened 
 people. Soon after the insurrection, the convention for 
 examining the constitution of the United States met at 
 Philadelphia ; and when this important subject was 
 taken into consideration in Massachusetts, Mr Adams 
 was one of the twelve representatives of Boston. Though 
 he did not altogether approve of its several provisions, 
 particularly of that which rendered the several states 
 amenable to the courts of the nation, yet after certain 
 amendments were made, he gave his hearty assent for 
 its adoption. 
 
 Mr Adams was chosen governor of the state of Mas- 
 sachusetts in 1794, after liaving held the office of lieu- 
 tenant governor for five years. He continued in this 
 station three years, when fiis advanced age and increased 
 infirmities induced him to retire from the active scene 
 of public life. He died October 2d, 1803, in the 82d year 
 of his age, and in the full belief of those religious prin- 
 ciples in which he had been educated. 
 
 The importance of the services, which governor Adams 
 rendered his country, were greatly enhanced by the lite- 
 rary labours in which he was engaged the greater part 
 of his life. Early distinguished as a writer, among his 
 first attempts of this nature were his political produc- 
 tions against the administration of governor Shirley. 
 He was the author of many patriotic reports and ad- 
 dresses ; of an interesting letter to the earl of Hillsbo- 
 rough, and of an oration, pu1)lished in 1776. The last 
 effort of his pen was a letter in defence of Christianity, 
 against the attacks of Mr Thomas Paine. Po/ijant/ios, 
 V. iii. Sullivan^ s sketch in the fiublic Jiafiem, 1803. Allen's 
 jBwp-afih. Diet. Elliot's Biog. Gordon's Amcr. War. 
 
 Francjs. 
 
 Electricity and Magnetism ; an Introduction to Prac- 
 tical Astronomy ; Geometrical and Graphical Essays ; 
 an Essay on Vision ; Lectures on Natural Philosophy ; 
 and a Treatise on the Barometer, Sec. (m) 
 
 ADAMS, a township in Massachusetts, in the United 
 States, situated about 140 miles north-west of Boston, 
 and containing 2040 inhabitants. It is remarkable for a 
 deep excavation, about 40 rods in lengtli, and in some 
 places 60 feet deep, formed by Hudson's brook, in a 
 quarry of white marble. A natural bridge, about 14- 
 feet long, 10 feet broad, and 62 feet high, is formed over 
 this channel by the projection of the rocks, (w) 
 
 ADAMSON, Patrick, archbishop of St Andrew's, a 
 famous Latin poet, was born at Perth in the year 1536. 
 His parents do not appear to have been in very flourish- 
 ing circumstances ; but he received a sufficiently liberal 
 education, first at the grammar-school of his native 
 town, and afterwards in the university of St Andrew's. 
 Having taken the degree of master of arts, he was in- 
 duced, by Macgill of Rankeilor, to undertake the tuition 
 of his eldest son. They resided two years at Paris, and 
 afterwards visited the universities of Poictiers and Pa- 
 dua where Adamson applied himself with great assiduity 
 to the study of the civil and canon laws. On their re- 
 turn from Italy, they visited Geneva ; and here, in his 
 familiar intercourse with Beza, he eagerly imbibed the 
 Calvinistic doctrines of theology. Seven years after 
 their arrival on the continent, they revisited Paris. This 
 was about the period of the massacre of St Bartholomew, 
 which Dr Smollett has very justly characterized as the 
 most perfidious, cruel, and infamous massacre, that ever 
 disgraced the annals of any nation. Adamson, who had 
 distinguished himself by his literature, and was well 
 known as a zealous protcstant, found means to escape 
 from the capital, and to obtain a place of refuge at 
 Bourges. During his concealment, he composed his po- 
 etical paraphrase of the book of Job, and, a tragedy ou 
 the story of Herod, who was smitten by the angel. This 
 tragedy, so far as we are able to learn, was never prun- 
 ed ; but the other production may be found in the col- 
 lection of the author's Pocmata Sacra (Lond. 1619, 4to.) 
 which was edited by his son-in-law, Thomas Wilson, an 
 advocate. Having concealed himself at Bourges for 
 the space of seven months, he at length withdrew 
 during the night ; and he had scarcely removed seven 
 miles from the city, when the person who had harboured 
 him, an old man of seventy, was tried, in a sumn^aiy 
 manner, and condemned to be thrown from the top of his 
 own house. The profession which Adamson had origi- 
 nally chosen seems to have been that of an advocate ; and 
 before his return to Scotland he is said to have taken the 
 degree of doctor of laws. Soon after his arrival, however, 
 he entered into holy orders, and became minister of Pais- 
 ley. In 1575, the general assembly appointed him one of 
 its commissioners for settling the jurisdiction and polity 
 of the church ; and, in tlie course of the following year, 
 he was nominated, with David Lindsay, to report their 
 proceedings to the regent Morton. About this period, 
 the earl constituted him one of his chaplains ; and, on 
 the death of archbishop Douglas, promoted him to the 
 see of St Andrew's. This high preferment was ther 
 origin of all his misfortunes. The power of the pres- 
 byterians was now become extremely formidable ; and 
 indeed the archbishop himself had formerly contributed 
 to its advancement, by publicly preaching against the 
 hierarchy. From the period of liis instalment, he was: 
 engaged in almost perpetual altercation. In 1578, hs 
 R 2
 
 132 
 
 AiJA 
 
 ADD 
 
 submitted to the jui iscUction of the general assembly ; 
 but this expedient did not long secure his tranquillity ; 
 for, in the course oi the ensuing year, new accusations 
 were prtfeiTcd against him. Li 1582 he was attacked 
 with a grievous distemper, in whicli tlie physicians 
 could aflord him no relief; and, under the anxiety of 
 mind incident to such a condition, he had recourse to a 
 simple remedy administered by an old woman, named 
 Alison Pearson. As her medicine was found to be effi- 
 cacious, she was committed to prison under a charge of 
 witchcraft ; and allhough she was so lortunatc as to make 
 her escape on this occasion, yet, after an interval of 
 about four years, she was again apprehended ; and was 
 most inhumanly condemned to the stake. When king 
 James visited St Andrew's in 1585, the archbishop 
 preached and disputed before him with great approba- 
 tion and applause. His antagonist in the disputation 
 was the celebrated Andrew Melvil, principal of St Ma- 
 ry's college, who has very keenly satirized the learned 
 prelate in several of his compositions. The eloquence 
 and learning which Adamson displayed on this occasion, 
 recommended him to the favour of the king, who sent 
 him as his ambassador to the court of England. During 
 his residence in London, he kept two principal objects 
 in view ; he endeavoured to i-ecommend his sovereign 
 to the nobility and gentry of England ; and to procure 
 some support to the tottering cause of episcopacy in 
 Scotland. His eloquent sermons drew such numerous 
 auditories, and excited such a high idea of the young 
 king, that queen Elizabeth prohibited him from mount- 
 ing the pulpit during his stay in her dominions. He was 
 recalled in 1584, and sat in the parliament held in the 
 month of August. His enemies, the presbyterians, still 
 viewed him with implacable hatred ; and, in the year 
 1586, the provincial synod of Fife summoned him to 
 appear, and to answer for his contempt of the decrees 
 of fomier assemblies, in presuming to exercise the 
 functions of a bishop. Though he refused to acknow- 
 ledge the jurisdiction of the court, and appealed from 
 it to the king, a sentence of excommunication, equally 
 indecent and irregular, was pronounced agamst, him. 
 Adamson, with no less indecency, thundered his archie- 
 piscopal excommunication against Melvil, and some of 
 his other opponents. The unfortunate primate had once 
 stood so high in the royal favour, that James had con- 
 descended to compose a sonnet in commendation of his 
 Paraphrase of the book of Job : but the favour of princes 
 is generally held by a very precarious tenure. Having 
 fallen under the king's displeasure, having been de- 
 prived of the revenues of his see, in consequence of the 
 act of annexation, and being overwhelmed with poverty 
 and disease, he, in the year 1591, made the meanest 
 submission to the clergy, and delivered to the assembly 
 a formal recantation of all his opinions concerning 
 church-government, which had been the cause of offence 
 to the presbyterians. Such a confession from the most 
 learned person of the episcopal order, was considered 
 as a testimony which the force of truth had extorted 
 from an adversary ; but, without entering into the merits 
 of the case, we may venture to assert, that a complica- 
 tion of miseries had at least as great a share as the force 
 of truth, in extorting so humiliating a recantation. The 
 Recantation qf Ma'mtcr Patrick Adamsoncy which cannot 
 be read without pity and indignation, was officiously pub- 
 lished, as a pamphlet, in the year 1598. Having lan- 
 guished out his latter days in extreme poverty, he died 
 -at St Andrew's about the I5th of March, -1.592. His 
 
 character, though certainly not free from blemishq^s, 
 was far from being despicable. He was a man of very 
 considerable erudition ; and he acquired great reputa- 
 tion as a popular preacher. His conduct as a church- 
 man exhibited material errors: though his mind seems 
 to have received lasting impressions of piety, yet he 
 rendered himself too subservient to the views of a weak 
 and arbitrary monarch. His unworthy compliances were 
 sulliciently punished by his disgrace and sufferuigs ; but 
 his literary works remain no contemptible monument of 
 his genius and learning. Several of his poems may be 
 found in the Dclicix Poctarum Hcfjtorum, tom. i. and in 
 the Poelarum iicoCi^rum JSIuse Sacra, tom. ii. A very 
 loose and erroneous account of Adamson occurs in Dr 
 Mackenzie's Lives of Scots Writers, vol. iii. p. 364 ; 
 bMt a more satisfactory view of his personal and literary 
 history may be expected from Mr Irving's Lives of Scot- 
 tish Writers, ivho Jiourished during the sixleentli and. 
 seventeenth centuries, (c) 
 
 ADANSONIA, a genus of plants of the class Mo- 
 nadelphia, and order Polyandria. It derives its name 
 from Michael Adanson, a French natui-alist, who wrote 
 the Histoire J\'aturclle du Seiiegal, 4to, and the Families 
 des Plantes, 2 vols. 8vo. See Botany, (to) 
 
 ADAR, the twelfth month of the ecclesiastical year of 
 the Hebrews, and the sixth of their civil year. At the 
 end of every three years, the Jews intercalate a thir- 
 teenth month, called Veadar, or second Mlar, in order to 
 make up lor the 53 days, which the solar year has in that 
 time got before the lunar year, (to) 
 
 AD AYES, or Adaes, a station in the north-east ex- 
 tremity of the province of Texas, in the Spanish domin- 
 ions in North America. Tne fortress is situated in a 
 fertile country, at the distance of nearly six miles from 
 the lake Adayes. This lake is in some places five 
 leagues broad and ten in circumference, with a gulf 
 which is navigable by large vessels, and which could 
 not be sounded with a rope 180 fathoms long. In the 
 middle of this lake stands a hill, or rock, of a pyramidal 
 form, about 100 yards in ciicumference, and composed of 
 stone, which reflects the rays of the sun like ciystal. 
 
 The lake abounds in fish ; and the surrounding coun- 
 try is plentiful in wild cattle, bears, and beavers ; and 
 the soil is fertile in maize, and other grain. See Pinker- 
 ton's Geograjihy, vol. iii. p. 223. (jy) 
 
 ADDER, or Viper. See Coluber, Ophiology. 
 
 ADDER Stones, a name given to opake rings of 
 glass found in this country, with a round hole in their 
 centre, and a very thick rim. They are sometimes 
 beautifully variegated, and arc considered as a proof 
 that the ancient inhabitants of this island possessed the 
 art of making glass. See Phil. Mag. vol. xx. p. 17. andi 
 Anguixum Ovum. (iv) 
 
 ADDISON, Lancelot, the father of tlie celebrated 
 Joseph Addison, was born in 1632. After taking his 
 degrees at Oxford, and distinguishing hunself by his 
 learning and industry, he was chosen one of the terra 
 flii, {or the SiCt which was celebrated in 1658. In the 
 oration, which he delivered on this occasion, he had the 
 imprudence to speak disrespectfully of the persons in 
 power ; and was compelled to retract his animadversions, 
 and solicit pardon upon his knees. After obtaining a 
 rectory in Wiltshire, and being appointed one of the 
 prebends in the cathedral church of Sarum, he took hrs 
 theological degrees in 1675. In 1683, he was promoted 
 to the deanery of Litchfield ; and in die following year 
 collated to the archdeaconry of Coventry. He died «n
 
 ADJIISON. 
 
 133 
 
 the 20lh April, 1703, at the age of 71. He was die 
 author ol many works, both literary and theological ; but 
 none ol tliem liave obtained much celebiity. See Wood's 
 Athfn. Ox'in. part ii. col. 970. 1721. {w) 
 
 ADDISON, JosKi'ii, a poet and miscellaneous writer, 
 was born on the 1st ol May, 1672, and died of asthma, 
 combined witii dropsy, on the 17tli ol June, A. D. 1719. 
 Being a weakly chikl, and thought not hkely to live, he 
 was baptized the very day on which lie was born, lie 
 received the first part of his education under the tuilion 
 of his father, from whom ho imbibed those principles uf 
 piety, svhich characterized him through life. He was 
 then put under the care of Mr Nash of Ambrosbury ; 
 and atierwards under that of Mr Taylor at Salisbury. 
 His father being created dean of Litchfield, and carry- 
 ing his children with him to that place, Addison became, 
 for some time, the pupil of Mr Shaw ; but no account of 
 his early acquirements or tendencies has been given by 
 any of his biographers, though Johnson relates that one 
 of his masters, probably Shaw, was barred nut of his 
 school on the approach of the holidays, principally by 
 the mischievous contrivance of Addison. From Litch- 
 iield he was sent to the Charterhouse, where he con- 
 tracted the intimacy with Sir Richard Steele, which 
 their joint labours in the Tatler, the Spectator, and the 
 Guardian, have so effectually commemorated. Their 
 friendship, however, was not on equal terms : for Addison 
 knew that Steele was his inferior, and treated him as 
 such ; and Steele acknowledged his inferiority, by a de- 
 ference sufficiently submissive. A man who endures the 
 sarcasms of aiiotlier, without resistance or reply, has 
 parted with the honouralile character of a friend, for 
 that of a flatterer or a slave. 
 
 At the age of fifteen, Addison was entered at Queen's 
 College, Oxford ; and some Latin verses which he had 
 w-ritten on (he Inatigural.ion of King William and Queen 
 Mary, being accidentally seen by Dr Lancaster, after- 
 wards Provost of Queen's College, he was, by his recom- 
 mendation, elected into Magdalen College, on the foun- 
 der's benefaction. He made an early and surprising 
 progress in literature. His Latin poems, the principal 
 of which are the JVar be/ween the Pigmies and the Cranes, 
 the Dtscrifition of the Barometer, and the Pu/ifiet-shoiv, 
 are to be found in the second volume of the ]\Ius» An- 
 glicanse, which was collected by himself. He presented 
 the collection to Boileau, the French satirist, who from 
 that time, says Tickcll, " conceived an opinion of the 
 English genius for poetry." Boileau is known to have 
 had an utter dislike to all modern compositions in Latin ; 
 and it is probable that his profession of regard in this 
 instance was the effect of his politeness, rather than his 
 approbation. In the year 1690, Addison contributed a 
 ropy of Latin verses to the Oxford Congratulations on 
 the return of King William from Ireland after t lie battle 
 of the Boijne : and having taken the degree of Muster of 
 Arts, he published, in 1693, some verses inscribed to 
 Dryden. This was the first of his attempts in English. 
 It was followed by a translation of the fourth Gcorgic of 
 Virgil, (oinitting the story of Aristaeus) by an .'Iccount 
 tf the Greatest English Pop/.s, dedicated to H. S., gener- 
 ally supposed to be Henry Sacheverel, and by other 
 pieces in prose and verse. In the year 1 695, he wrote a 
 poem to King William, on one of his campaigns ; and, by 
 addressing it to Lord Somers, the keeper of the great 
 seal, he procured the patronage of that nobleman. Ha- 
 ving declined entrance into holy orders on account of his 
 riatural diffidence, and some needless scruples about the 
 
 clerical office, he obtained a pension of 5001. per annum, 
 by the hiUuence of his patrons Somers and Montague, to 
 the last ol whom he was introdxiced by Congieve. By 
 this means he was enabled to execute his favourite pur- 
 pose of travelling into Italy. Accordingly, in 1699, he 
 made a tour into that country, which he surveyed with 
 the rapture of a poet, and the judgment of a v.rilic ; com- 
 paring the appearances of the mountains, woods, and 
 livers, with the descriptions given by Virgil and Ho- 
 race ; and in 1701, he wrote a Jioetiral e/nstle from Italy 
 to Montague, (now become Lord Halifax,) which has 
 been very generally admired. 
 
 During his travels, he composed the Dialogues on 
 Medals, and four acts of the tragedy of Cato. He ex- 
 perienced, however, the common lot of those who are 
 dependent on courts. His pension was not regularly 
 remitted, and he found it necessary to hasten to England : 
 being distressed by indigence, and forced to become the 
 travelling tutor of a squire, whose name has not been 
 mentioned, and probably has no title to be recorded. Af- 
 ter his return to England, he published his Travels, 
 which he dedicated to Lord Somers. 
 
 In 1704, Mr Addison celebrated the victory at Blen- 
 heim, in a poem entitled t/ie Cam/iaign. It was written 
 at the request of Lord Godolphin, signified to him by 
 Mr Boyle, afterwards I>ord Carleton ; and it procured 
 lor him the office of commissioner of the appeals, in 
 which appointment he succeeded Mr Locke. In this 
 poem is the well-known simile of the angel. He was 
 soon after chosen under-secretary of state, first to sir 
 Charles Hedges, and then to the earl of Sunderland,' 
 About this time, he wrote the opera of Rosamond, which 
 met with neglect, and hisses on the stage ; but he af- 
 terwards published it with better fortune, and showed ei- 
 ther his want of judgment, or his servile absurdity, by 
 inscribing it to the dutchess of Marlborough, "a woman, 
 without skill or pretensions to skill, in poetry or litera- 
 ture." 
 
 He went into Ireland in the year 1709, as secretary 
 to the infamous earl ol Wharton ; and was, at the same 
 time, appointed keeper of the records in Bermingham's 
 Tower, with an allowance augmented for his accom- 
 modation to 3001. per annum. Though a keen Whig, 
 he could not be prevailed upon to relinquish his in- 
 timacy with Swift, who held the sentiments of the Tories, 
 and attached himself to that party. But his acceptance 
 of favours from lord Wharton, by no means implies an 
 approbation of his crimes : and it will not be an easy 
 matter to find in any history, two associates of charac- 
 ters so directly opposite, as those of Addison and Whar- 
 ton. When he was in office, he never remitted his fees 
 in civility to his friends ; " for," said he, " I may have 
 a hundred friends, and if my fee be two guineas, I shall, 
 by relinquishing my right, lose two hundred guineas, 
 and no friend gain more than two : there is, therefore, 
 no proportion between the good imparted, and the evil 
 suffered." Whether this reasoning be just or not, it is 
 certain, that, in his official capacity, he never indulged 
 his friends by any gratuitous services : and throughout 
 his life, he appears to have known the value of money, 
 and to have had pretty exact ideas of the duty of pay- 
 ment, when the fixed time was come. But while this is 
 mentioned, let it not be forgotten, that he established it 
 as a rule for himself, not to take, on any pretence, morn 
 than the usual fees of his office. 
 
 He was reserved and silent before strangers, and so 
 timorous, that Chesterfield declares he -(vas the most
 
 134 
 
 ADDISON. 
 
 awkward man he ever saw : but he was easy, fluent, and 
 familiar, in tiic company of his triends. Pope, who had 
 Komc good reasons to view the character ol Addison in 
 an untavouralile light, bears testimony to the seducing 
 charms of liis conversation. He was jealous of a rival 
 in wit. Steele was not of sufficient dignity to occupy 
 much of his attention, or draw forth his censure ; but 
 the growing reputation of Pope, touched the sensibility 
 of liis pride ; and led him to support the pre-eminence 
 to which he fancied he was raised, by means, of which 
 honour and openness could not readily approve. It was 
 his practice to study all the mornhig, to dme at a tavern, 
 und to spend the evci.ing at Button's, a coffee-house, 
 frequented by all who had pretensions to wit in those 
 times. At the tavern, he drank too much wine. In 
 politics, though sufficiently in earnest, he was not vio- 
 lent ; and was respected, if not beloved, by individuals 
 of both parties, which at that time agitated the state. 
 When Swift slept forth as the champion of the Tories, 
 his intimacy with Addison was not so close as before: 
 yet they still maintained a regard for the virtues and 
 talents of each other. See the Journal to Stella. 
 
 While Addison was in Ireland, Steele began the 7a?- 
 /('»-, a series of essays on literature and manners; the 
 first of which appeared on the 12th of April, 1709. 
 These essays were published without the name of the 
 author; but Addison discovered them to be Steele's, by 
 the use which the latter had made of a criticism on Vir- 
 gil, which he had communicated to him some time be- 
 fore. No sooner was this discovery made, than Addi- 
 son became a contributor to the paper. The Tatler was 
 succeeded by the S/ieclator; the first number of which 
 appeared on the first of March, 1711: and such was the 
 exuberance of matter, of which its authors had the 
 choice, that it was continued daily till it extended to 
 seven volumes, the seventh being completed on the 8th 
 of December, 1712. In the year 1713, the tragedy of 
 Cato was represented on the stage. This tragedy was 
 known to be the production of a Whig, and was zealously 
 applauded by those who belonged to that party : every 
 line, which was favourable to liberty, was received with 
 tumultuous approbation; and the approbation was echo- 
 ed by the Tories, in order to show, that they did not feel 
 the censure, which it was supposed to convey. Lord 
 Bolingbroke called the actor, who personated Cato, to 
 his box, and gave him fifty guineas, for having so ably 
 supported the cause of freedom against the encroach- 
 ments and the violence of a perpetual dictator. After 
 tlie representation of Cato, the Guardian, another pe- 
 riodical paper, was undertaken by Steele ; and to this 
 also Mr Addison contributed, but not so regularly as to 
 the Tatier and the Spectator. The popularity of these 
 papers was deservedly very high ; and, though no longer 
 supported by party, or recommended by novelty, they 
 yet stand at the head of English literature, and will be 
 perused with benefit and delight while the English con- 
 tinues to be acknowledged as a separate tongue. This 
 pre-eminence they owe chiefly to the genius of Addison. 
 His essays in the Spectator are marked by one of the 
 letters in the name Clio, and in the Guardian by n /land, 
 characters which he employed to distinguish his com- 
 positions from those of his associates. After the pub- 
 lication of the Guardian, the Spectator was revived, and 
 Addison contributed, as before, without using, however, 
 any marks by which his papers could be known. An 
 eighth volume was now completed. About the same 
 tjnie, he meditated a dictionary of the English language, 
 
 and proceeded some length in the definition of words, 
 and the collection of authorities; but the number of his 
 political avocations prevented tlie final execution of hi.s 
 purpose, and the work has since been perfonned by Dr 
 Johnson, with great ability, and with no little success. 
 The H'liiff Examiner was written about tlic time when 
 Cato was brought upon the stage ; and some other po- 
 litical papers, of which Addison was the author, are re- 
 ferred to the same period. The freeholder, the last of 
 the periodical publications in which he was engaged, 
 and which was designed to support the established go- 
 vernment, appeared in the year 1715. 
 
 In the year 1716, he married the countess dowager of 
 Warwick, to whose son he had been tutor. The lady 
 was not to be won but after a long and anxious court- 
 ship; and showed, when she granted him her hand, that 
 she was abundantly persuaded of her condescension in 
 taking him for a husband. The marriage by no means 
 increased the happiness of Addison. She never forgot 
 her rank, and seems to have formed an opinion, which is 
 not uncommon, that no culture of intellect, or exaltation 
 of genius, can make up for the want of coronets and an- 
 cestry. The majestic and repulsive behaviour of the 
 countess often drove him from her society to a tavern, 
 and made him veiy unwilling to return to her when he 
 was there. It is certain, as Johnson remarks, that Addi- 
 son has left behind him no encouragement to ambitious 
 love. 
 
 The year after his marriage, he was appointed secre- 
 tary of state, and reached his highest preferment. It is 
 generally acknowledged, that he was unfit for the duties 
 of his place, and that he could not issue an order with- 
 out losing his time in quest of elegant expressions, a 
 solicitude which never left him in any of his writings. 
 He shortly after retired from his office with a pension 
 of 1500/. and devoted himself to literary pursuits. As 
 his mind was turned to piety, he wrote the Evidences of 
 the Christian Religion, vih'ich he intended as an antidote 
 to infidelity; and he designed a new version of the book 
 of Psalms. He projected also a tragedy on the death of 
 Socrates. He relapsed however into politics, and wrote 
 the Old Jl'hig-, with remarks on the Plebeian, which he 
 either knew, or soon discovered, to be the production 
 of Steele. The comedy of the Drummer is like'wise 
 ascribed to Addison. 
 
 Prior to his death, which happened in the year 1719, 
 he sent for lord Warwick, a young man of a loose and 
 irregular life ; and when he desired, with great respect, 
 to hear his last injunctions, Addison, grasping his hand, 
 addressed him in these memorable words: — " I have 
 sent for you, that you may see how a Christian can die." 
 The eflect of this awful scene is not known, as the earl 
 died soon alter. Such a death as Addison's might have 
 been expected from a life, approaching as near to per- 
 fection as the weakness of human nature will allow. It 
 is related of him, that he received encouragement from 
 a married lady, of whom he had been enamoured ; and 
 that he had the virtue to resist the temptation. The 
 struggle, however, must have been great, for he was 
 several times in love. He refused a gratification of 300/. 
 and a ring from major Dunbar, whom he had endeavour- 
 ed to serve : and when Mr Temple Stanyan had borrow- 
 ed 500/, of him, and yielded to him, in an argument, 
 with too great obsequiousness, he said to him : — " Either 
 contradict me, sir, or pay me the money." 
 
 After the death of Addison, Tickell wrote a poem t« 
 the memory of his friend and patron, which he addressed
 
 ADD 
 
 ADE 
 
 1^ 
 
 to the earl oi' Warwick, and which Johnson, who seldom 
 praises where praise is not deserved, pronounces to be 
 one of the most noble and interesting of funeral compo- 
 sitions in the whole circle of English literature. The 
 following paragraphs are particularly recommended by 
 the last mentioned writer : 
 
 To strew ficsli laurels let the task be mine, 
 A frequent pilgrini at tlic sacred slirine ; 
 Mine witli true sijflis tiiy absence to bemoan, 
 And jp-ave witli (aitliful epitaphs thy stone. 
 If e'er from me tljy loved memorial part. 
 May shame afflict this alienated liearl; 
 Of thee forgetful, if I form a song-, 
 My lyre be broken, and untuned my tongue ; 
 My giief be doubled from thy image free. 
 And mij-th a torment unchastised by thee. 
 
 Oft let me range the gloomy aisles alone ; 
 Sad luxurj ! to vulgar minds unknown. 
 Alon^tlie walls, where speaking marbles show 
 What wortliies form the hallowed mould below. 
 Proud names, who once the reins of empire held, 
 In arms who triumplied, or in arts excelled ; 
 Chiefs graced with scars, and prodigal of blood ; 
 Stern patriots, wlio for sacred freedom stood ; 
 Just men, by whom impartial laws were given ; 
 And saints, who taught and led the way to heaven. 
 Ne'er to these chambers, wliere the mighty rest 
 Since their foundation, came a nobler guest ; 
 Nor e'er was to the bowers of bliss convejed 
 A fairer spirit, or more welcome shade. 
 
 The chief works of Mr Addison are the tragedy of 
 Cato; his papers in the Tatler, the Spectator, and the 
 Guardian; and the Evidences of the Christian Religion. 
 
 The tragedy of Cato is the reverse of a true copy 
 from nature. The incidents are such as seldom occur 
 in real life, and are therefore but little calculated to in- 
 terest the attention ; but tlie principal character is well 
 supported, and the poetry is fine. Cato's soliloquy on 
 the immortality of the soul may be selected as one of 
 the most dignified and elegant compositions in the Eng- 
 lish tongue. In writing this tragedy, he was confined 
 by narrow ideas on the subject of the unities of time and 
 place, as Dennis has shown with malevolent acuteness ; 
 ajid its moral tendency may be questioned, as Cato not 
 only falls before the power of a tyrant, but takes away 
 his own life. In his other poems, some of which appear 
 to have been executed with care, there is little either to 
 blame or to praise. 
 
 Addison's papers, in the Tatler, the Spectator, and 
 the Guardian, may be divided into the comic, the se- 
 rious, and the critical. 
 
 His humour is peculiar to himself. He employed his 
 wit against the approaches of scepticism and immorality; 
 and such is the force of good example, that, since his 
 time, it has generally been found in alliance with truth 
 and virtue. His court of honour in tlie Tatler, and the 
 papers relating to sir Roger de Coverley in the Spec- 
 tator, may be selected as the best specimens of his comic 
 powers. For easy and delicate satire they are perhaps 
 unequalled in any language. Addison has risen " above 
 all Greek, above all Roman fame." His serious papers. 
 Which are written with a beauty and propriety of lan- 
 guage not inferior to any thing in his comic productions, 
 were uniformly designed to ameliorate the dispositions, 
 and to reform the conduct, of his readers; and it cannot 
 be denied, that they had the effect which they were 
 meant to have, and that such as perused them were ren- 
 dered not only wiser, but better than they were before. 
 He recommended knowjcdge to those who were not of 
 
 tlie learned professions, at a time when ignorance was 
 considered as no disgrace; and he taught the females 
 of his days, that they had minds as well as those of the 
 opposite sex, and that these minds deserved to l>e culti- 
 vated and improved. He may safely be regarded, as 
 one of those who have contributed most to change us 
 into a nation of readers. He has been called a bad cri- 
 tic; but they, who censure him, should remember, that 
 he was the first who exhibited the canons of criticism in 
 an easy and popular manner, and enabled those to judge 
 of poetry who were not so desirous of profound know- 
 ledge, as of sufficient information to qualify themselves 
 for talking ol the rules by whicli books ought to ber 
 written. He did not publish a system of criticism ; but 
 what he ofl'ered was just. The precepts of the ancients 
 had remained concealed in the poetics of Aristotle, or 
 scattered over the irregular prefaces of Drydcn, till Ad- 
 dison gave to the general reader his observations on the 
 Paradise Lost. And so preferable are ease and elegance 
 of composition to the system and deep investigations of 
 science, that Milton was brought into universal notice, 
 and became the favourite of all who had pretensions to 
 literature : for, besides the inherent excellence of the 
 poem, all were pleased with what had been so agreeably 
 recommended to their approbation. He descended, how- 
 ever, " in a dying fall," from the epic dignity, and wrote 
 comments on th» ballad of Chevy Chase, which were 
 read, only because they were of his writing. No quota- 
 tions from Virgil, and of these he employed not a few, 
 could make the world believe, that the story was cither 
 very interesting in itself, or told in such a way as t» 
 give pleasure to the reader. 
 
 It may be said of his " Evidences of the Christian 
 Religion," that they were well intended, and that they 
 may be perused with advantage by those who have not 
 time to read larger treatises : but, as the subject has 
 engaged the attention of others, since Addison wrote, 
 they are inferior to the works of Paley and Beattie, and 
 the Apologies of Watson ; men, who stood forth in de- 
 fence of Christianity, when it was attacked by the impu- 
 dence of Paine, the wit of Voltaire, and the subtle insi- 
 nuations of the historian of the Decline and Fall of the 
 Roman Empire, (/i) 
 
 ADDITIONS, in Heraldry, are a species of bearings 
 in coats of arms, in which additional marks of honour 
 are placed. This reward descends to none of the fa- 
 mily except to those in the person's own direct line, (ik) 
 
 ADDITIONS, a name given by distillers to the sails, 
 acids, aromatics, and oils, which are added to the liquor 
 in a state of fermentation, in order to improve the vino- 
 shy of the spirit, increase its quantity, or communicate 
 to it a particular flavour, {-v) 
 
 ADDUCENT, or Adductor Muscles, from adduco, 
 to drain to, are those which draw together the parts of 
 the body to which they arc attached. See Anatomy, (f) 
 
 ADEL, or Adea, a kingdom of Africa, bounded on 
 the east by the Indian ocean; on the north, by the Red 
 Sea, the straits of Babelmandeb, and Cape Guardnfui ; 
 on the south, by the kingdom of Magadoxa; and on the 
 west, by the country of the Galla, or the kingdoms of 
 Dancali, Dawaro, Bali, Fatigar, and other districts of 
 Abyssinia. Its extent, though not exactly ascertained, 
 is supposed to be about 160 leagues from east to west, 
 and about 72 from north to south. Adel, the capita!, 
 from which the kingdom has received its name, is situ- 
 ated near the river Hawash, about 300 miles south of 
 Jlochti in ArabiE ; N. Lat. 8° 5'. E. Long. 44° 20'. This
 
 136 
 
 AJ3E 
 
 ADE 
 
 kingdom is bomcliines called ZeMa, irom un cniLienl 
 sea-port of that name. It is said to have been first- 
 erected into a separate kingdom, aboit the beginning oi" 
 the 16th century, by Salatru, a prince of Abyssinia, who, 
 iiaving escaped from the prison, in which the rt^al fa- 
 mily, accorcling to the custom of that country, was con- 
 lined, took refuge in Adel, then an Abyssinian province ; 
 and marrying the daughter of the king of Zeila, became 
 independent sovereign of these united kingdoms. The 
 kings of Adel are the most formidable enemies with 
 whom the monarchs of Abyssinia have to contend. As 
 the Adelians arc Mahommedans, and the Abyssinians 
 profess Christianity, their mutual jealousy of each 
 other's power is heightened by the rancour of religious 
 2eal; and the wars, in which the two nations are almost 
 perpetually engaged, are marked with every atrocity, 
 which might be expected from the rivalship and enthu- 
 siasm of savages. For their hatred against the Chris- 
 tians, and their zeal in the cause of the Prophet, the 
 kings of Adel are in great favour witli the Grand Sig- 
 nior, to whom they are tributary, and are dignified witli 
 the appellation of saints. In exchange for this flattering 
 title, the sultans have appropriated to themselves the 
 most considerable maritime towns of the Adelians ; so 
 that all their ports, except Zeila, are now occupied by 
 the Turks. 
 
 The interior of this kingdom is little known to Euro- 
 peans. Towards the south-east, the whole coast is a de- 
 sert : but in the rest of the country, the soil, composed 
 of rich black earth, washed down by torrents from 
 Abyssinia, is extremely luxuriant. It produces wheat, 
 barley, and millet in abundance ; and pastures numerous 
 flocks and herds. We are informed by Hamilton and 
 Barthema, that sheep arc found at Adel entirely white, 
 witli the head of a brilliant black, and with very small 
 ears. The sheep of Adel are said to have their neck 
 swollen by a kind of dewlap hanging down to the ground, 
 which demonstrates the identity of the species with the 
 ram upon ancient marbles represented by Fabroni, and 
 proves that this species exists in Europe, Asia, and 
 Africa. Some of these sheep are remarkable for the 
 size of their tails, which sometimes weigh 25 pounds, 
 and their wool is almost as hard as the bristles of a hog. 
 The principal articles of commerce are gold-dust, 
 ivory, frankincense, and negro slaves, which are ex- 
 changed for the merchandise of Arabia and the In- 
 dies. 
 
 The inhabitants, called Gibbertis, are a stout and war- 
 like people ; those on the northern coast are of a tawny 
 brown complexion ; and those towards the south are of 
 a deeper black. Their principal towns, besides Adel 
 and Zeila already mentioned, are Barbara, a place of 
 considerable trade ; A/f/a, on the northern coast, near 
 the river Soal; Asscm, on the east, which supplies the 
 mariners with provisions ; and Cape G ttardafui, xxj \.he. 
 north of Assem. It seldom rains in this country ; but 
 the soil is irrigated by many rivers and canals. The 
 climate is intensely hot, feverish, unhealthy, and gene- 
 rally fatal to strangers. Walknaer's Geog. notes. French 
 edit. vol. vi. p. 413. (A-) (w) 
 
 ADELFORS, the name of the gold mines in the 
 province of Smoland, in Sweden, discovered in 1738. 
 The principal rock of this district is greenstone-slate. 
 The gold is contained in veins, which are from two 
 inches to nearly six feet broad, and the most productive 
 are said to run from north to south. The vein-stone is 
 quartz, and the only ore is copper pyrites. The gold is 
 
 cither native, and then it is in leaves or crystallized ; o»' 
 is combined with pyrites, forming the auriferous copper 
 pyrites of mineralogists. These mines are nearly ex- 
 hausted. We possess no good description of this re- 
 markable mining district. See Anton. Hiuub's Anmark- 
 ningar ofvtr GuU'ga7ii;arne -vid. Adflf'rjrs, 1745, p. 117— 
 136. Anders. Sivab's ojn strykande Quartz-Gungar i 
 Adclfcjrs Gutbnabnstracter i Umaland. Vetennk. Acad 
 Handlung, 1762, p. 291 — 283. /. Gottclialk IValUrit 
 Dissertatio Historico-Mineralogica de AuriJ'odina Adelf'jra. 
 Rcsfi. loll. CrjlUandcr. Ujisatiae, iTdi. Baron Samuel Gu- 
 saf Hermelin. Berattelsc om amalgamations inraltningen 
 
 vid Adet/ors guldverk. Vetennk. Acad. Handling,^. 153 
 
 159. Rcuss Mineralogie, vol. ii. p. 358. Leonhard's 7a- 
 liogrujihxnchen Mineralogie, vol. i. p. 365, 366. Berg- 
 man's Phys. Geog. in the Journal des Minea, n. xv. p. 49. 
 Pinkerton's Geog. vol. i. p. 578. Jameson's Mineralogy, 
 vol. iii. p. 132. See also Geognosy, (r) 
 
 ADELIA, a genus ol plants belonging to the claSi 
 Disecia, and order Monadelphia. See Botany, (w) 
 
 ADELITES, or Almoganens, a name given by the 
 Spaniards to a class oi conjui-ers, who predicted the for- 
 tunes of individuals from the flight and singing of birds, 
 and from the meeting of wild beasts, and other acciden- 
 tal circumstances. They were divided into two classes, 
 the masters, and discifiles ; and they preserved carefully 
 the books, which treated of this species of divination, 
 and contained the rules for every kind of prediction 
 
 ADEN, or Addex, the Eudcdmon of the ancients, 
 the capital of a country of the same name, situated in a 
 rocky peninsula on the Indian ocean, at the southern ex- 
 tremity of Arabia Felix. It is almost completely sur- 
 rounded by high mountains, on the sumnrits of which 
 numerous small square forts have been erected by the 
 Arabs. A fine aqueduct conveys water from the same 
 mountains into a lai'ge reservoir, or canal, about three 
 quarters of a mile from the city. 
 
 Aden, from the excellence and advantageous situation of 
 its harbour, which opened an easy communication with 
 Egypt, Ethiopia, India, and Persia, was, for many ages, 
 one of the most celebrated marts, and most flourishing 
 factories, in Asia. In 1513, it bafiled the attempts of 
 Albuquerque, the Portuguese admiral, who wished to 
 demolish it; but in 1559, Solyman II. treacherously 
 seized the sovereign of Aden, and obtained possession 
 of the city. The Turks were soon expelled in their 
 turn by the king of Yemen, who removed the trade of 
 Aden to Mocha, till that time an inconsiderable village. 
 Aden is now almost a heap of ruins, with two mosques 
 and minarets ; but as the kingdom of Mocha is torn to 
 pieces by the Wahabees, Aden will probably recover its 
 commercial importance. Banians from Mocha reside 
 here to carry on the trade, with Berbera, and buy up 
 the myrrh and gum-arabic brought by die Samaulies. 
 Cape Aden is a lofty rock, with several ruined towers. 
 N. Lat. 12° 40'. E. Long. 45° 4'. See Captain Robert 
 Coverte's Voyage and Trai'els, or Osborne's Collect, of 
 Voyages, vol. ii. p. 248. and Lord Valentia's Travels, vol. 
 ii. p. 12, 86. (tt) 
 
 ADEN ANTHER A, a genus of plants belonging to the 
 class Decandria, and order Monogynia. See Botany, (to) 
 
 ADEPIIAGIA, from aS'>:.pafix, gluttony, compovmded 
 of a^r.v, /ilinti/ully, and (pccf^iv, to eat, the goddess of 
 Gluttony, whom the Sicilians honoured with religious 
 worship. They erected a temple to her, and placed her 
 statue next to that of Ceres, (to)
 
 AJDH 
 
 ADERBIJIAN, or Azerdkyan {the coiauvy 'if Jlrc,) 
 one of the liltccn provinces of Persia, and one of Uie 
 eleven whicii belong to the khan or kincj of Persia. It 
 extends from 48° to 54'" E. Long, and from 36° to 39° 
 I^. Lat. ; and is bounded on the east by the province of 
 Ghiian, the Caspian Sea, and Jabristan ; on the south, 
 by Jrac-Ajcmi; on the vfcst and north-west, by Curdis- 
 tan, and Upper Armenia ; and on the north, by Schirwan 
 and Georgia. Its principal towns are Tebriz or Tauris, 
 a populous and commercial city, formerly the residence 
 of the Persian monarchs, Ardevil, and Sultania. (jiu) 
 
 ADFECTED, or Affected Ecjmations. See Al- 
 gebra. 
 
 ADHA, or the Great Bairam, a festival celebrated 
 by die Mah(^ielans, on the tenth day of the last month 
 of theii'year, which was named Dhu'lhajjia, signifymg 
 l/ie month of Jiilgrimagcs, because this month was par- 
 ticularly appointed for the performance of religious 
 ceremonies by pilgrims at Mecca. On this day, they offer 
 there, and no where else, a solemn sacrifice of a slieep, 
 which is also called Adha. See Sale's Koran, Prel. Dis- 
 sert. 'p. 150. (rf) 
 
 ADHERENCE, Action of, in the Scottish law, is 
 an action at the instance of a husband, or wife, to com- 
 pel either party to adhere in case of desertion. The sen- 
 tence of adherence may be enforced by letters of horn- 
 ing; and, if the offender disobey, the act 1575, c. 55. 
 directs the church to admonish him, and in case of far- 
 ther disobedience to excommunicate him. This action 
 does not seem to be competent when the party is out of 
 the kingdom. Sec Bell's JJict. oj the Law of Scotland, 
 vol. i. p. 10. (to) 
 
 ADHESION, or Adherence, from at/ and Jixreo, to 
 stick, is properly the condition of two separate bodies, 
 ivhcn they are held together by the mutual attraction of 
 llieir particles. It is generally employed to denote the 
 force by which the surfaces of solids adhere to the 
 surfaces of fluids, in consequence of their mutual at- 
 traction. 
 
 Our countryman Dr B. Taylor seems to have been 
 the first who made this branch of physics a subject of in- 
 vestigation. He observed so early as 1713, the ascent 
 of water between two glass plates, and from his expe- 
 riments on the adhesion of surfaces, he concluded, that 
 the adhesive force might be measured by the weight 
 which was necessary to separate the contiguous sur- 
 faces. He found, that a square inch of wood required 
 fifty grains to raise it, and that the adhesive force was 
 always in the direct ratio of the surface in contact with 
 the fluid. It was the opinion of some other philoso- 
 phers, that this adhesion was owing to atmospherical 
 pressure, and therefore no new experiments were in- 
 stituted till 1773, when M. Guyton Morveau investigat- 
 ed the subject with the greatest ardour and success. He 
 suspended a polished disc of glass, thirty lines in dia- 
 meter, to the arm of a balance, and found that a weight 
 of nine gross, and a few grains, was necessary to separate 
 it from the surface ofmercuiy. The apparatus was then 
 placed in the exhausted receiver of an air-pump, and 
 the same counterpoise, as before, was necessary to dis- 
 unite the mercury and glass. This experiment, which 
 clearly showed that the pressure of the air was not the 
 cause of adhesion, was followed by a variety of others, 
 from which Morveau obtained very interesting results. 
 The metals which he employed, were in the greatest 
 purity; they were each an inch in diameter, well polish- 
 ed, and of the same thickness, and had a small, ring in 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 ADIl 
 
 137 
 
 tlieif cejilrc, by which they were suspended at the arm 
 of an assay balance. With this apparatus, he obtained 
 tlie following results. 
 
 Metals empl())ed. 
 Gold, . . 
 Silver, . . 
 Tin, . . 
 Lead, . . 
 Bismuth, . 
 Zinc, . . 
 Copper, 
 Antimony, 
 Iron, . . 
 ■Cobalt, . , 
 
 Specfic gravities. 
 
 . . 19.342 
 
 . . 10.510 
 
 . . 7.296 
 
 . . 11.445 
 
 9.800 
 
 6.86.i 
 
 7.788 
 
 6.700 
 
 7.700 
 
 7.800 
 
 To the preceding Table, we have added the specific 
 gravities of the metals, b order to show that the force 
 of adhesion is in no respects connected with the densi- 
 ties of the solids. The adhesive force of each metal 
 seems to be proportional to its solubility in mercury ; 
 and therefore the numbers which express that force in 
 the different metals, maybe regarded as an approxima- 
 tion towards the ratio of the relative affinities of the me- 
 tals for mercuiy. 
 
 Dr Taylor's method of ascertaining the force of adhe- 
 sion was also employed by Mr Achard of Berlin, who 
 has made an immense number of interesting experi- 
 ments upon this subject. By varying the atmospherical 
 pressure, he found no change in the adhesive force of 
 glass and water; but when fluids of diff'erent tempera- 
 tures were employed, he found that their adhesion to so- 
 lids was uniformly in the inverse ratio of the temperature. 
 The relation between the adhesion of glass, and the 
 temperature of \'\ater, he expresses by an equation similar 
 
 1 fi ^ 
 
 to the following : e = 530 a, or a = 99.33 —t i 
 
 3 16 
 
 and the table which Mr Achard has computed from these 
 formulae for different degrees of Sulzer's thermometer, 
 accords wonderfully with the experimental results. 
 From these results, it appears that for every additional 
 degree of heat of Sulzer's thermometer, (equal to 
 1.1565 of Fahrenheit,) the adhesive force diminishes 
 0.1858 grains according to experiment, or ^J ^ of a graia 
 for every degree of Fahrenheit ; and 0.1876 according' 
 to calculation. This diminution in the force of adhesion 
 is ascribed by Morveau to the diminution cf the fluid's 
 density in consequence of its rarefaction by heat, from 
 which it happens that the disc of glass comes in con- 
 tact with fewer points of the fluid. 
 
 In order to ascertain the relation between the adhesive 
 force and the area of the surface of the solid that is 
 brought into contact with the fluid, Mr Achard em- 
 ployed discs of glass, from 1.5 to 7 inches in diameter, 
 and found that the force was in the direct ratio of the 
 squares of the surfaces. 
 
 When the experiments were made with various fluids, 
 viz. distilled water, sulphuric acid, concentrated vinegai-, 
 alcohol, acetile of lead, acetite of copper, deliquiated 
 potash, ammonia, sulphuric ether, oil of turpentine, 
 and oil of almonds, Mr Achard found that with al- 
 most all these fluids, lead and brass had the greatest 
 adhesion ; and wax and sulphur an adhesion greater than 
 any of the other metals. The adhesion of gypsum was 
 the least in all the fluids, except the sulphuric acid, to 
 which it adhered with greater force than any of the other 
 discs.
 
 .138 
 
 ADl 
 
 AJ)I 
 
 The subject of adliesion has been ubiy discussed by 
 M. Diitour in the Journal de Physhjuc. He shows, that 
 the method employed by Taylor and Achard to estimate 
 the adhesive force, is correct only when the solid rises 
 from the fluid surface, without bringini^ along with it any 
 of the fluid particles, as in the case of glass and mercu- 
 ry ; for when the solid brings along wiih it a quantity of 
 the fluid, as in the case of glass and water, mercury, and 
 some of the metals, the solid docs not separate from the 
 fluid at the plane of adhesion, but a little below it, in a 
 plane lying in the substance of the fluid ; so that the 
 weight which produces this separation is rather an ex- 
 pression of the cohesion between the particles of the 
 fluid, than of the adhesion of the solid. M. Dutour also 
 obtained the following results : 
 
 A disc of 72 square lines French, adhered to 
 
 Water with a force of SI gr. Fr. 
 
 Wine, 29 
 
 Brandy, 22| 
 
 Olive oil, 22 
 
 Alcohol, 18 
 
 A disc, 1 1 lines in diameter, of 
 
 Glass, adheres to mercury with a force of 194 
 
 Talc, 119 
 
 Tallow, 49 
 
 Paper, 27J 
 
 Wax, 11 
 
 Box, (waxed) 1 
 
 For further information on this subject, sec Phil. Trans. 
 1721, vol. xxxi. p. 204; 1804. Comment. Keg. Soc. Got- 
 tirig. 1751, vol. i. p. 301. Miscellan. Taurinens. vol. i. 
 Observations par Rozier, vol. i. p. 1 72, 460 ; vol. >:i. p. 127; 
 vol. xiii. Sufi. p. 337; vol. xiv. p. 2 1 6 ; vol. xv. p. 46, 234 ; 
 vol. xvi. p. 85 ; vol. xix. p. 137. Mem. Acad. Berlin, 1776, 
 p. 149. Achard's Chymisch. Physiche Sc/iriften, 1780. 
 Journal de Physiijiie,\'o\. xlviii. p. 287. Phil. Mag. vol. 
 xi. p. 27. Gilbert's Journal der Physik, vol. i. p. 396, 
 515 ; vol. iv. p. 194 ; vol. xii. p. 108. Dr Thomas Young's 
 Leetures on A^at. Phil. vol. ii. p. 652. (w) 
 
 ADHESION, in Surgery and Morbid Anatomy, a 
 term applied to the preternatin-al union which takes 
 place between two inflamed, ulcerated, or abraded sur- 
 faces. When the lungs, bowels, &c. are highly in- 
 flamed, their external coats are, as it were, glued to the 
 adjacent membranes, lining the chest or belly, and thus 
 adhesions are formed. See Dr Flemyng's Treatise on 
 Adhesions or ylccretions of the Lungs, or the Medical Mu- 
 seum, vol. i. (./") 
 
 ADIABENE, the richest and most fertile province 
 of Assyria, to the whole of which country it sometimes 
 gave its name. In this province, Ptolemy and Ammia- 
 nus, (with whom Strabo coincides) place Ninus or Nine- 
 veh, Gaugamela, and Arbela. In consequence of the 
 feuds which prevailed among the Seleucidae, Adiabene 
 was erected into a separate kingdom, and was governed 
 by successive sovereigns in opposition to the kings of 
 Syria, till it became subject to the Roman emperors. 
 In the reign of Trajan, the Adiabenians joined Chos- 
 roes, king of Persia, then at war with the Romans. 
 Trajan having obtained possession of Adcnystrse, one of 
 •their sti'ongest forts, transported his army over the Ti- 
 gris by means of a bridge of boats, and made himself 
 master of the whole kingdom of Adiabene in the 115th 
 yearof the Christian era. The Adiabenians soon shook 
 off the Roman yoke ; but ivere again subjugated by Se» 
 
 v^rus, who from that circumstance was denominated. 
 
 Aiiiabeiucus. (aJ 
 
 ADIANTIiUM, a genus of plants of the class Cryp- 
 togamia, anci order Fuices. See Botaky. (w) 
 
 ADIAPllORiSTS, Irom «^i*?>»fi>?, indijff\rtni, a name 
 given to the Lutiieraiis wiio adnered to Melancthon, 
 and afterwards ti^ Uiose wno bubscribed to tlie Interim 
 wliich Cuarlcs V. pubiisiicd at the diet oi Augsburg. 
 Melanctiion had maintained, that obedience was uuc 
 to the imperial edicts in matters of an indifferent na- 
 ture, (to) 
 
 ADJECTIVE, a word which expresses as inhering 
 in its substance the quality ol any thing whose essence 
 docs net consist in motion or its privation, as wise, black, 
 great. Every adjective may tiierefore be ^jpsolved into 
 a substantive, and an expression equivalent to of, for a 
 wise man is the same as a man of wisdom. See Harris's 
 Hermes, p. 186-7. Blair's Lectures, vol. i. p. 199; and 
 Grammar, {w) 
 
 ADIPOCIRE, from adept, fat, and ccra, wax, a name 
 given by Fourcroy to a sott unctuous substance of a light 
 brown colour, into which the muscular fibre of animal 
 bodies is spontaneously converted when protected from 
 atm.ospheric air, and when under certain circumstances 
 of temperature and humidity. 
 
 This substance was discovered at Paris in 1787, when 
 the burving ground of the church des Innucens was re- 
 moved on account of its insalubrity; and tiie space wnich 
 it occupied laid out for buildings. Tiiis burying ground 
 had been for many centuries the receptacle of the dead 
 in one of the most populous districts of Paris, and con- 
 tained several large cavities (./bsscs fo«;mu«f«) about 30 
 feet deep, and 20 feet square. Each of these immense 
 pits which had been heaped above their natural level, 
 contained about 1500 adjacent coffins, enclosing the bo- 
 dies of the poorer inhabitants, who were un.ibrmiy doom- 
 ed to this species of dishonourable interment, so that a 
 space of nearly 200,000 cubic yards was completely fil- 
 led with one hideous mass of corruption. When the 
 proposed alterations on this part of the city wei-e to be 
 put in execution, it became necessary to remove the 
 greater part of tlie soil with its putrid contents ; and it 
 was during this operation, that Messrs Fourcroy and 
 Thouret obtained the following interesting facts. 
 
 In one of the pits which had been filled up about IS 
 years, the bodies had sunk to the bottom of the coffins, 
 as if they had been flattened by the pressure of some 
 weight; and upon removing the linen shroud, there ap- 
 peared irregular masses of a soft unctuous substance 
 like cheese, of a brownish colour, and apparently inter- 
 mediate between wax and fat. After further examina- 
 tion, it appeared that this adipocire was composed of 
 every part of the body, except tlie bones, nails, and hair ; 
 that it was generated in about three years; that it was 
 more perfect in the centres of the pits, than in the parts 
 nearer the surface ; that in the space of about 35 years, 
 when the ground is dry, it becomes brittle, semitrans- 
 parent, and of a granulated texture ; and that it was 
 never produced when the bodies were interred singly. 
 
 This singular substance may be also produced, and 
 with greater rapidity, by immersing animal matter in 
 running water. Dr Gibbes found, that part of a cow 
 placed in the bottom of a stream, was converted into an 
 adipocirous substance in about three months; and that 
 the same conversion might be effected in the space of 
 three days, by macerating the animal substance in di- 
 luted iritroas acid>. The chemical properties of adipo-
 
 ADM 
 
 ADM 
 
 139 
 
 cire, which has been examined by Fourcroy, Dr (iibbcs, 
 and Ur Bostock of Liverpool, will be found under the ar- 
 ticle Chemistry. Dr Bostock's ingenious ex])t;rinn-nts 
 may be seen in Nicholson's Journal., vol. iv. p. 155. The 
 experiments of Fourcroy in the Jnnnlts cU C/iimie, vol. 
 V. p. 154; vol. viii. p. 17 ; and those of DrGibbcs bi the 
 /■/]//. Trans. 1794, vol. Ixxxiv. p. 1 69, and vol. Ixxxv. See 
 the Journal dc Physi'juc, torn, xxxviii. .'Innalfn dc C'/iimir, 
 vol. iii. p. 120; vol. vii. p. 146, and Aikin's Minaratogicat 
 Oiciionary. (to) 
 
 ADIRONDACKS. See ALcoNquiNS. 
 
 ADIT OF A Mine, the opening by which we enter a 
 mine, ana through which the water and ores arc carried 
 dut. See Phil. Trans, vol. i. p. 79 ; vol. ii. and vol. xvii. 
 
 ADJUDICATION, in English law, tlie act of adjudg- 
 ing to any one the property of a thing by a legal sen- 
 tence. In Scottish law it is employed to express the 
 diligence by which land is attached on security and pay- 
 ment of debt, or by which a feudal title is made up in a 
 person holding an obligation to convey, without procura- 
 tory or precept. Sec Bell's Diet, of the Lanu of Scotland, 
 vol. i. p. 14. (w) 
 
 ADLE Egg, or Subvcnianeoiis -Egg, is one which has 
 not been impregnated by the male bird. After incuba- 
 tion, these eggs are found to contain a roundish ash- 
 coloured substance. See P/i//. yrang. vol. vii. No. 87. (w) 
 
 ADMINISTRATOR, in English law, is nearly the 
 same with an executor, or rather it is the person to whom 
 is committed the administration of the goods of any one 
 who has failed in appointing an executor. In Scottish 
 law, it denotes a person legally authorized to act for any 
 person whom the law considers as incapable of mana- 
 ging his own affairs. It is generally applied to a father 
 who is empowered by law to manage the property of his 
 children during their minority, (w) 
 
 ADMIRAL from an-^^xXioi, which is again derived 
 from the Arabic word yhiicer,a. prince, and uM, the sea, 
 is a person who holds an office as a judge or president 
 of a court for the trial of maritime causes, and the regu- 
 lation of maritime affairs; and has the command, either 
 of the whole navy, or of a portion of it. 
 
 Neither the antiquity nor the early history of this of- 
 fice is well ascertained. It has been thought by some 
 writers, that the name is of eastern origin, and that it is 
 derived from the Arabic word amir or e?nir, which signi- 
 fies a commander, whether on land or sea ; but without 
 inqt\iring into the foundation of this conjecture, it is 
 evident, that such an office will gradually arise in every 
 state as a navy begins to be formed. Du Cange assures 
 us, that the Sicilians were the first by whom the title of 
 admiral was adopted ; and says, that they took it from 
 the eastern nations, who often visited them: and he, far- 
 ther, gives the authority of Matthew Paris to show, that 
 the Genoese were the next who applied the woi-d to the 
 commander of a squadron. This appears to have been 
 done in the time of the crusaders, and about the year 
 1244. 
 
 History is silent with regard to the exact time when 
 the name of this ofl'icer was introduced into England. 
 Sir Henry Spelman, a learned antiquary, is of opinion, 
 that it was not before the reign of Henry III : because it 
 is not mentioned in the laws of Oleron, which were made 
 in the year 1266, nor by Bracton, who was lord chief 
 justice of England about the same time, in his treatise 
 De Legibus et Consue'udinibus Jnglix. It is likely, that 
 a term synonymous with that of admiral, and of equal 
 
 or perhaps of greater antiquity, was used in remote pe- 
 riods: as in later times, when the appellation of admiral 
 was not known, or not employed, tlie commander of tlic 
 fleet appears to have had liie name ol cuerotunarin ; and 
 sometimes tiiat oi ca/iitancuti marilimarnm. There were 
 anciently three oi- lour admirals of tlie English seas, who 
 all held their offices durnig the pleasure of the king: 
 and besides these, there were admirals of the C'inrjuv 
 Ports ; one of whom (William Latimer) is des< rihed as 
 .idmiralis quirKjue portuuw, in the reign of Edward III. 
 The title of ^dmiralis ylnglia, or high admiral of Eng- 
 land, was first given to the carl of Arundel and Surrey, 
 by a patent of Richard II. in the year 1387: but it was 
 not a titLs of tre(|uent application tUl the reign of his suc- 
 cessor Henry IV. The same title was afterwards con- 
 ferred upon other subjects, generally of the highest rank ; 
 though it has now been discontinued for many years, and 
 simk in that of the lords commissioners of the admiralty. 
 The king's lieutenant upon the high seas, locum tenen.9 
 regis su/ier mare, was an officer of superior dignity to the 
 admiral of England. 
 
 It is always in the power of the king to appoint a higli 
 admiral ; and when that power is exercised, the officev 
 who is thus appointed has always the sole direction of 
 maritime affairs. The royal navy is under his govern- 
 ment and command : and he nominates the inferior ad- 
 mirals, captains, and, in general, all who serve in it, 
 whether by virtue of commissions or of warrants. He 
 has likewise a civil and criminal jurisdiction in all ma- 
 ritime cases ; including transactions which take place 
 in arms of the sea, and on the rivers which flow into it, 
 up to the first bridge. This power extends over all 
 sailors ; both those who are in actual service, and those 
 who may be living on shore : and, throughout the king- 
 dom, he may forcibly apprehend the latter, and employ 
 them in the ships of war. He presides in the court of ad- 
 miralty : and when offenders are convicted of capital 
 crimes, he has the appointment of every thing which 
 relates to their execution. The emoluments of the 
 lord high admiral are very considerable. He had for- 
 merly a right to the tenth part of all prize goods ; but 
 that right was abolished by statute in the reign of 
 George II. (13 Geo. II. c. 4.) He is still however, en- 
 titled to all fines or forfeitures in consequence of trans- 
 gressions at sea, in ports or havens, and within high 
 water mark ; though between high and low water mark, 
 the admiral and common law bear rule alternately, the 
 one upon the land, and the other upon the water. 
 
 The administration of this important office has, for a 
 considerable time past, been intrusted to six lords com- 
 missioners of the admiralty, who, by a statute of Wil- 
 liam and Mary, (W. and M. stat. ii. c. 2.) are vested 
 with the same authority, jurisdiction, and privileges, 
 which the lord high admiral formerly enjoyed. The 
 first lord is ahvays a member of the cabinet, and en- 
 grosses the whole prerogatives; as his colleagues have 
 few or none. Petitions or applications to the king in 
 council, are only so in fiction, as no discussion of tlicm 
 ever takes place; and they are immediately transmitted 
 to the admiralty, where the lords commissioners, oe 
 more properly the first lord, decides upon the nature 
 and subject of the application. 
 
 Though Scotland never possessed any thing which 
 could merit the appellation of a navy, there was former- 
 ly a lord high admiral in tliis country. It is difficult to 
 collect much of his early history ; but extensive powers 
 were conferred upon him by an act which was passed m 
 
 s e
 
 140 
 
 AliM 
 
 ADM 
 
 the year 16jl, and in which he is styled "ilic king's 
 lieutenant and justice-general upon the seas." His of- 
 fice is now absorbed in that of the lords commissioners 
 of the admiralty for Great Britain. A vice-admiral, 
 however, is still appointed by the crown, and exercises 
 a civil and criminal jurisdiction in Scotland, nearly of 
 the same kind wiUi that which belonged to the high-ad- 
 miral of England. It is not many years since a person 
 accused of robbery on the seas was tried beiore the 
 vice-admiral, and a jury in the former country, and sen- 
 tenced to be hanged at Leith wilhin high w.iter mark. 
 But the duty of the office is now generally done by a 
 «leputy, who is called the judge-admiral, and presides 
 in a court for the discussion of maritime questions.* 
 
 Admiral is also the title given to the highest rank of 
 officers in the British navy. There are admirals of the 
 red, white, and blue : and there are also vice-admirals 
 and rear-admirals of each of these flags. An admiral 
 carries his flag at the main-topmast head ; a vice-admi- 
 ral at the fore-topmast-head, and a rear-admiral at the 
 mizen-topmast-head. (c) 
 
 ADMIRALTY, Coukt of, a supreme court, held by 
 the lord high admiral, or the lords conmiissioners oi the 
 admiralty, for the trial of maritime causes, whether of a 
 civil or of a criminal nature ; and which is not a court 
 of record. It was instituted by Edward III. It takes 
 cognisance by judge and jury, of all criminal offences 
 upon the high seas, or on the shores of any country 
 under the dominion of Great Britain ; but in civil cases, 
 the mode is different, and the discussions follow the prac- 
 tice of the civil law. It is enacted, that in criminal 
 tases, felons shall be tried in the presence of a jury by 
 commissioners, whom the lord chancellor has the right 
 ef appointing ; and those commissioners are the judges 
 of the court of admiralty : but besides these, there are 
 three or four others, two of whom must always be taken 
 from the number of supreme judges. An appeal to the 
 sovereign in chancery lies (8 Eliz. c. 5.) from the sen- 
 tence of the court of admiralty. 
 
 There are likewise courts of an inferior nature held 
 by the admirals deriving their appointments from the 
 supreme court, or the judge-admiral of Scotland, witliin 
 their respective jurisdictions ; and an appeal lies from 
 their decisions to the supreme court. But in the case 
 of prize vessels, taken in any pai-t of the world during 
 war, the appeal lies to certain commissioners of appeals, 
 who are chiefly of the privy council. t (f ) 
 
 * In the United States there is no office correspon- 
 ding to that of lord high admiral in England ; the pre- 
 sident is by the constitution commander in chief of the 
 anny and navy of the union, and the secretary of the 
 navy under him superintends the details of the latter 
 department. DrroxcE.vu. 
 
 t In the United States there is no court of admiralty 
 expressly so called. The district courts, established in 
 the different states under the authority of the federal 
 government are vested by law with what are called ad- 
 miralty powers, and have original cognisance of prize 
 causes, and of those causes civil and maritime which are 
 held in England to he within the jurisdiction of an instance 
 court of admiralty. The proceedings incases of that de- 
 scription are by libel and answer according to the course 
 of the civil law, modified, however, in many respects, by 
 the application of common law principles, and above all, 
 greatly simplified and better adapted to modem use ; fhe 
 
 ADMIRALTY Bay, in the souihen» island of Neir 
 Zealand, at the north-west of Queen Charlotte's sound, 
 and near the western entrance of Cooke's straits. Thi» 
 bay is spacious, and has good anchorage ; and in many 
 parts of it wood and water can easily be procured Its 
 limits are, Capo Stephens on the north-west, and Cape 
 Jackson on tiie south-east. Its situation is marked out 
 by the Admiralty islands, which lie off in the strait, at 
 some distance from the entrance ; and by an island two 
 miles north-east of Cape Stephens, in S. Lat. 40" 37', and 
 E. Long. 174^ 54', (/i-) 
 
 ADMIRALTY Inlet, the name given by Mr Van- 
 couver to the supposed straits of Juan dc Fuca, on the 
 west coast of New Georgia. The country, as far as the 
 eye can reach, is beautiful, and the soil is fertile. On 
 each point of the harbour, which Vancouver named 
 Penn's Cove, there was a deserted village, in which 
 were found sepulchres in the form of sentry-boxes, con- 
 taining small skeletons, and pieces of bone, which were 
 supposed to have been used by the inhabitants for 
 pointing their arrows and spears. The entrance of the 
 bay is about 48" 50' N. Lat. and 124" 15' W. Long, (/c) 
 
 ADMIRALTY Island, so called by Mr Vancouver, 
 an island in George the Third's Archipelago, on the 
 north-west coast of New Norfolk, in America, between 
 57° and 58° Sc/ N. Lat. and between 134° and 135° W. 
 Long. This island, which is about 60 leagues in circum- 
 ference, has many convenient bays, fine streams of fresh 
 water, and is covered witli an unmterrupted forest of fine 
 trees, chiefly of the pine tribe, (k) 
 
 ADMIRALTY Islands, a cluster of between twenty 
 and thirty islands, lying to the north of New Britain, in 
 about 2" 18' S. Lat. and 164° 41' E. Long. Captam 
 Carteret, by whom they were first discovered, described 
 them as clothed with woods of beautiful verdure, luxuri- 
 ous and lofty, interspersed with spots that have been 
 cleared for plantations ; groves of cocoa-nut trees ; and 
 houses of the natives, who seemed to be numerous. As 
 the climate and latitude of these islands is the same with 
 that of the Moluccas, captain Carteret thought it proba- 
 ble, that they produce pines, and other valuable articles 
 of trade ; but the frail state of his ship, and his want of 
 the articles necessary for trading with the Indians, pre- 
 vented him from landing to examine them. (A) 
 
 trial is by exhibits and witnesses, without the interven- 
 tion of a jury. From the district court an appeal lies to 
 the circuit court, and from thence to the supreme court of 
 the United States, which decides in the last resort. 
 
 The district courts have also cognisance, as courts 
 of criminal jurisdiction, of certain petty offences com- 
 mitted on the high seas ; but the trial of piracy and in 
 general of all crimes cognisable by a maritime court, 
 the punishment of which exceeds thirty stripes, a fine 
 of an hundred dollars, or an imprisonment of six months, 
 belongs to the circuit court ; and tlie proceedings in such 
 cases are according to the course of tlie common law. 
 
 Causes of forfeiture in consequence of violations of 
 the revenue or other prohibitory laws of the United 
 States, are held with us to be within the admiralty 
 branch of the jurisdiction of the district courts, provided 
 the seizure has been made on the high seas, or on 
 waters navigable by vessels of ten tons burthen ; and 
 therefore such causes are heard and determined with- 
 out a jury. It is otherwise if the seizure has been made 
 on land, DtJi-ONCEAU.
 
 ADO 
 
 ADO 
 
 141 
 
 ADOLESCENCE, the period of life between infancy 
 and maniioou. Among tlic Romans, tliis period was 
 from twelve to twemy-onc in females, and liom twelve 
 to twenty-live in males, thougli it is generally placed 
 between fifteen and twenty-five, or thirty, (m) 
 
 ADOM, or Adon, a smah kingdom, or principality, of 
 the Gold Coast, in Africa, which extends in a direct line 
 along tlie iiver Senama. It is bounded on the cast by 
 Tabeu and Guaffo, on the north by Wassa, and on the 
 east and nortn-east by Abramboc, and on the south by 
 the Atlantic. It is a rich and populous country, abound- 
 ing in com and fruit, and feeding great numbers of 
 animals, botli domestic and wild ; its rivers are full of 
 fisli ; and ic possesses considerable mines of gold and 
 silver. Many fine islands belong to it, which arc cover- 
 ed with beautiful and populous villages. The situation 
 of Adorn enables its inhabitants to intercept the commu- 
 nication of the northern regions of Africa with the ne- 
 groes of the coast; and they subject those v.ho carry 
 on that intercourse to a duty, which yields a considera- 
 ble revenue. The authority of the chief, which was for- 
 merly arbitrary, is now controlled by five or six of the 
 principal men, who, with the king, form the national 
 council. See Dapper's Descrifition De C Afrique., p. 
 288. {k) 
 
 ADONIA, solemn feasts in honour of Venus, and in 
 memory of Adonis. 
 
 They were annually celebrated, with peculiar solem- 
 nity, in the temple of Venus at Byblos in Syria, at the 
 season when the water of the river Adonis was changed 
 into blood. This uncommon appearance, which afforded 
 such a strong ground for superstition, was witnessed 
 by Maundrell on the 17th of March, and is rationally 
 ascribed by him to the effect of the preceding violent 
 rains, washing down from the mountains a kind of red 
 earth, by which the river was deeply tinged. (^Travels, 
 p. 34.) The most particular account of this festival is 
 given by Lucian, {de Dea Syria) a.a follows: — "The 
 Syrians affirm, that what the boar is reported to have 
 done against Adonis, was transacted in their country ; 
 and in memory of this accident they, every year, beat 
 themselves, and wail, and celebrate frantic rites ; and 
 great lamentations are appointed throughout the coun- 
 try. After this, they first perform funeral obsequies to 
 Adonis, as to one dead, and on a following day, feign 
 that he is alive, and ascended into the air or heaven ; 
 and shave their heads, like the Egyptians at the death 
 of Apis. Whatever women will not consent to be shaved, 
 are obliged, by way of punishment, to prostitute them- 
 selves during one day to strangers ; and the money 
 thus earned is consecrated to Venus." Lucian adds, 
 that " some of the Byblians conceived these rites to be 
 performed in honour of Osiris the Egyptian deity, and 
 not of Adonis." 
 
 At the time of this feast, the Egyptians, according to 
 Cyril as well as Lucian conveyed a box of rushes or pa- 
 pyrus, with an enclosed letter, to the women of Byblos, 
 informing them that their god Adonis, whom tliey ima- 
 gined to be lost, was discovered. The vessel was 
 thrown into the sea, and always arrived safe at Byblos, 
 at the end of seven days ; and on receiving it, the wo- 
 men ceased their mourning, sung his praises, and made 
 rejoicings as if he were raised to life again. But Meur- 
 sius says, that the two ceremonies of lamentation and 
 rejoicing, were observed at the distance of six months 
 from each other ; Adonis being supposed to pass half 
 the year with Proserpine, and the other half with Venus. 
 
 The one they called ca^aviT/M^, dua/i/icurancc^ and the 
 other i^in'ii, return. These Adoiiia were celebrated at 
 Alexanflria in the time of Cyril ; and at Antioch ill the 
 time of Julian the apostate. They lasted two days ; on 
 the first of which, certain images of Venus and Adonis 
 were carried some times by tUe queen hcr.->elf m solemn 
 funeral procession ; and the women wept, uttered lamen- 
 tations, &c. This mourning was called Aiana.rfiL'x;. 
 According to Julius I-'irmicus, (See CJodwin's Mosm and 
 yJaron,p. 186.) on a certain nigiit during these solemni- 
 ties, an image was laid on a bed, and after great lamen- 
 tation made over it, li,i;-/n was brought in, and the priest 
 anointing the mouths of tlie assistaiits, whispered to 
 them with a soft voice, " 'J'ru.it ije in God, for out of 
 distress deliverance has come to us ;" on which their 
 sorrow was turned into joy, and the image taken as it 
 were out of its sepulchre. Part of this ceremony is evi- 
 dently-alluded to by Theocritus, IdijU. xv. 84, 85. 
 
 Mythologists and learned divines have been much 
 divided in opinion respecting the origin of these rites. 
 From their researches, the identity of Adonis with Osi- 
 ris seems to be as satisfactorily established as such a 
 point can be. Plutarch says he was the same with Bac- 
 chus. {Symjwsiac. lib. iv.) Thus also Ausonius iden- 
 tifies him with both : 
 
 Ogygia me Baccliuin canil ; 
 Osinn jE^ypliis vocat : 
 Arabica ^ens .'idumum. 
 
 Proceeding on this supposition, bishop Patrick ascribes 
 the origin of the Adonia to the slaughter of the first 
 born in the time ot Moses ; conjecturing that the name 
 of Pharaoh's eldest son, slain on that occasion, might be 
 Osiris. Spencer {de Leg. Hcb. lib. 2. c. 37.) thinks, that 
 the death of Osiris or Adonis, generally considered as 
 the Sun, being the god that presided over the fruits of 
 the earth, denoted their being separated from the earth 
 in the time of harvest. 
 
 Macrobius says, {Saturnal. lib. I. cap. 21.) that Adonis 
 was undoubtedly the Sun ; and following Bryant's ety- 
 mological system, Ad-On is one of the names of this lu- 
 minary. On this principle, the two feasts in honour of 
 Adonis, about September and March, might relate to the 
 diminution of light during the winter months, and the 
 increase of it during the summer months. From the 
 resemblance between the rites of the Orphic Argonau- 
 tica, and those mentioned by Julius Firmicus, others have 
 supposed that they relate to the ^r^/Vc ceremonies, com- 
 memorating tlic history of Noah and the deluge. See 
 Plut. in Nicia. Ainmian. Marcell. 22. c. 9. Bryant'b 
 Myth. vol. i. p. 371. Calmet's Diet. Frag. 317. {d) 
 
 ADONIS, according to some writers, was the son of 
 Cinyras, a king of the Assyrians, who founded Paphos 
 in the isle of Cyprus. His Ijcauty was so exquisite, that 
 Venus became enamoured of him, while yet in his in- 
 fancy, and inti-usted Proserpine with the care of^his 
 education. Proserpine refusing to restore him to Venus, 
 Jupiter decreed, that he should live one-third of the year 
 with each of the goddesses, and the other third be at 
 his own disposal. Adonis, captivated with the charms 
 of Venus, gave two-thirds of his time to her society. 
 Diana, offended at this, sent a wild boar, which slew 
 him, by wounding his thigh with its tusks. According 
 to others, he was the incestuous son of Cinyras, by his 
 daughter Myrrha. He was sent for concealment to the 
 mountains, to be nursed by the nymphs, where Venus 
 falling in love with him, admitted him to her embraces ;
 
 142 
 
 ADO 
 
 ADO 
 
 and Mars, from jealousy and revenge, killed him, by 
 
 iraiislonuing himsclt into a wild boar. Alter hib death, 
 Vciiub obtained tliu conbcnl ol Proserpine, that lie should 
 diviue his time between tlieni, and appointed an annu- 
 al festival to commemorate this event. The dcalli of 
 Adonis is the subject ol an extjuisitcly tender and beau- 
 tiful elegy, by the poet liiou. Macrobius explains this 
 fable ol the sun, represented by Adonis, passing tnrough 
 the twelve signs ; Venus meaning the upper, and Pro- 
 serpine the inferior hemisphere ol the earth, and the 
 boar that slew him signifying the winter. (Hafurnal. lib. 
 I. cap. 21.) Bryant supposes that the Caiiaanites wor- 
 shipped their chief deity, the sun, under this title. For 
 other mythological interpretations, sec Adosia. (f/) 
 
 ADONIS, a river ot Phoenicia, rising in mount Liba- 
 nus, or Lebanon, and called by the Turks Obrakim Ban- 
 sa. At certain seasons of the year, especially about the 
 time when the feast of Adonis was celebrated, the river 
 is stained to surprising redness by a sort of minium, or 
 red earth, washed down by the violence of the rains. 
 This change of colour the heathens attributed to the 
 fresh streaming of the blood of Adonis, 
 
 " Whose annual wound in Lebanon, allured 
 The Syrian damsels to lament his fate 
 In amorous ditties all a summer's day : 
 Wliile smooth Adonis, from his native rock, 
 Kan purple to the sea ; supposed with blood 
 Of Tliammuz yearly wounded." 
 
 Paradise L"St, book i. ver. 446. {t) 
 
 ADONIS, a genus of plants belonging to the class 
 Polyundria, and order Polygyniia. See Botany, (to) 
 
 ADONISTS, the name of a sect or party among the- 
 ological critics, who maintain, that the vowel points com- 
 monly annexed to the Hebrew word Jehovah^ neither 
 originally belonged to it, nor express its true pronuncia- 
 tion, but that they belong to the words Adonai and Elu- 
 him, and were applied to the ineffable tetragrammaton 
 Jehovah, to warn the readers, that, instead of this word, 
 they are always to read Adonai. They are opposed to 
 the Jeho-vists ; the principal of whom, are Drusius, Ca- 
 pellus, Buxtorf, Altingius, and Reland ; which last has 
 ptiblished a collection of their writings, (f/) 
 
 ADOPTION, an act by which any one takes another 
 into his family, owns him for his son, and appoints him 
 his heir. The origin of it is obvious and natural. As 
 the principle of lineal descent, and the influence of pa- 
 rental affection, are peculiarly strong, it is reasonable to 
 expect, that those, who have no children, will be solici- 
 tous to obtain some object, on whom they may bestow 
 .their love and propci'ty. 
 
 Adoption has, accordingly, in one form or another, ex- 
 isted in every age and country. This custom, as it re- 
 £p6cte<l parents procuring children to themselves as 
 theu- heirs, or to preserve their family from extinction, 
 was practised in the patriarchal times, and afterwards 
 airing the Jews. A similar practice seems to have been 
 tiniversally prevalent in the East. The following regu- 
 lations are found in the Gentoo Laws, and the institutes 
 of Menu : — " He, who is desirous to adopt a child, must 
 inform the magistrate, and shall perform the jugg, [sa- 
 crifice,] and shall give gold and rice to the father of the 
 child, whom he would adopt." " A woman may not 
 adopt a child without her husband's order." " He, who 
 •iias no son, or grandson, or grandson's son, or brother's 
 son, shall adopt a son ; but while he has one, he shall 
 not adopt a second." The last article shows, that, in 
 particiilar instances, adoption was expressly enjoined. 
 
 Menu, in like manner, says — " He whom his father, or 
 mother with her husband's assent, gives to unoiner ai> 
 his son, provided the donee have rm inHUr, il tlic boy be 
 ol ihe same class, and ailectionately disposcu, is a ton gi- 
 ven by water, i. e. the gill behig eonleriid by the pour- 
 ing oi water. He, who has no son, may appoint liis daugh- 
 ter to raise up a son to him, by saying, tue maie cnild, 
 WHO shall be born Irom her in wedlock, shall be mine, 
 lor tne purpose ol performing my funeral obsecjuies. 
 The soil ot a man is even as himscif ; anu as a son, sucU 
 is a tiaugiiter thus appointed. Tne son of a daughter, 
 appomteci as just mentioned, shall inherit the whole 
 estate ol her fatlier, wlio leaves no son. Between the 
 sons ol a son and of a daughter, thus appointed, there is 
 no ditl'erence in law." 
 
 The laws ot the Greeks and Romans, respecting adop- 
 tion, were still more precise. Eunuchs were not allow- 
 ed this privilege, as being incapable of begetting chil- 
 dren ; and it was expressly required, that the adopter 
 should be at least eighteen years older than his adop- 
 tive son, that there might appear a probability ol his be- 
 ing the natural father. 
 
 By tlie Greeks it was termed uit'iii, JiUaiion, and was 
 allowed to such as had no issue of their own, excepting 
 to those who were notx^f/o; 'ici.v,m, thi.ir own masters ; as 
 slaves, women, madmen, infants, or persons under twen- 
 ty years of age. At Athens, foreigners had to be admit- 
 ted to the freedom of the city, before they were capable 
 of being adopted. Adoption was consummated by the 
 form of a will, signed and sealed in the firesence of the ma- 
 gistrate ; after which, the person, so adopted, was to be 
 inscribed among the tribe or fraternity, of him who 
 adopted him. Having thus left his own tribe, he was not 
 at liberty to return to it again, till he had begotten a child 
 in his new relation ; but, even in that case, he was not 
 obliged to return to his former parentage, though he 
 had this privilege, if he chose. For the enrolment of 
 adoptions, a particular time was appointed ; viz. the fes- 
 tival S^af.^Aia. Sir William Jones, in his introduction to 
 the speeches of Isaeus, mentions the following express 
 laws of Athens. "Adopted sons shall not devise the 
 property accjuired by adoption; but, if they leave legiti- 
 mate sons, they may return to their natural family. If 
 they do not return, the estates shall go to the heirs oi 
 the persons who adopted them. The adopted sons, (if 
 there be any,) and the after-born sons to the person who 
 adopted him, shall be coheirs of the estate ; but no 
 adoption by a man, who has legitimate sons then born, 
 shall be valid." On this the learned commentator ob- 
 serves, that, both at Athens and at Rome, an adopted 
 son acquired all the rights, both sacred and civil, and 
 succeeded to all the advantages and burdens, of the new 
 family, into which he was introduced ; and was consid- 
 ered in every light as a son, by nature born in lawful 
 wedlock. But " an adopted son could not himself adopt 
 another ; he must either have a legitimate son, or the 
 estate, received by adoption, must return to the adopting 
 father's heirs ; for there could not be two adopted sons 
 at the same time." To prevent rash and inconsiderate 
 adoptions, the Lacedaemonians had a law, tliat they 
 should be transacted, or at least confirmed, in the pre- 
 sence of their kings. 
 
 Among the Romans, there were two forms of adop- 
 tion : the one before the prsetor, called adoptatio ; the 
 other, during the commonwealth, at an assembly of the 
 people, and afterwards by a rescript of the emperor, 
 called adrogaiio. In the firstrthe natural father address-
 
 ADO 
 
 ADO 
 
 143 
 
 cd the praetor, flcclaring, that he emancipated hir, son, 
 resit;ntii all aulhoiky over him, and eoiiscnted that he 
 should be taken into' the adopter's faiiidy. The other 
 mode was practised when tlie party to be adopted was 
 already free. The person adopted changed all his for- 
 mer names, and assumed the prenamc, name, and sur- 
 name, of the adoptuig father. In the reign of Nero, 
 the senate ordained, that fraudulent adoptions should be 
 of no avail, cither to qualify men for honours, or to en- 
 title them to the whole of any inheritance. 
 
 By the law of Mahomet, adoption is no impediment 
 to marriage. Among the Turks, the ceremony is per- 
 formed by obliging the adoptive person to pass between 
 the shirt and skin of the adopter. For this reason, to 
 adopt is expressed by the phrase, to draw another tlironi^'h 
 my shirt ; and an adopted son is called by \.h.er\\,.-lkictogli ; 
 i. e. The son of another life ; because he was not begot- 
 ten in this. Something like this is observable among 
 the Hebrews : Elijah adopts the prophet Elisha ; first 
 by putting his mantle upon him, and then l)y letting it fall, 
 when he was ascending in the chariot of tire. (1 King-s, 
 xix. 19. 2. Ki)igs, ii. 15.) Du Cange supposes, that the 
 adoption of Godfrey of Bouillon, by the emperor Alex- 
 ius Comnenus, who named him the champion of the em- 
 pire, and dignified his homage with the filial name and 
 rights of adoption, was of this kind. 
 
 Among the Greeks and Armenians, as well as the 
 Turks, this ceremony is frequently performed merely 
 by the adopting person exchanging girdles with him 
 who is adopted, when he succeeds to all the rights and 
 honours of a son. To prevent their estates from falling 
 into the grand seignor's treasury, when they are not 
 likely to have any children of their own, they also some- 
 times choose a child of either sex, amongst the mean- 
 est people, and carry the child and its parents before 
 the cadi, and there declare, that they receive it for their 
 heir. ' The parents, at the same time renounce all future 
 claim to it ; a writing is drawn and witnessed ; and a 
 child thus adopted cannot be disinherited. 
 
 Besides these ceremonies, many of which have a stri- 
 king resemblance to each other, various other methods 
 of adoption have taken place, and are denonlinated accor- 
 ding to the forms that were employed among Gothic and 
 military nations. See Halhed's Gentoo Laws, p. 263. 
 Institutes of Menu, in sir W. Jones' Works, vol. iii. p. 
 47, 552. Archxologia Attica. Aulas Grllitis, Gronov. 
 lib. V. cap. 19. Du Cange, Sitr Joinxiille, Dis. xxii. p. 
 '270. Pitt's Travels to Mecca, p. 217, 225. Lady Mon- 
 tague's Letters, let. xlii. Burder's Oriental Customs, 
 No. 459, 473, 512. Gibbon's Hist. chap. Iviii. vol. ii. p. 
 45. note, (rf) 
 
 ADOPTION, BT Arms, was when a prince made a 
 present of arms to a person, in consideration of his merit 
 and valour. In this manner, the king of the Hcruli was 
 adopted by Theodoric ; Athalaric, by the emperor Jus- 
 tinian ; and Cosroes, by the emperor Justin. The ob- 
 ligation here laid on the adopted son was, to protect and 
 defend the father from injuries, affronts, Sec. To this 
 Selden ascribe s the origin of dubbing knights. {Tit. of 
 Hon. p. 865.) The arms, thus assigned, were named 
 adofuive arms ; and are contradistinguished from arms of 
 alliance, (d) 
 
 ADORATION, an act of worship, strictly due to the 
 Supreme Being only ; but performed to other objects 
 also, whether irlols or men. The forms, times, objects, 
 and places of adoration, are different in different coun- 
 itics, according. to the customs and religions which pre- 
 
 vail in them. The origin of this practice is to be found 
 in the universal and just opinion, that the seinimentsof 
 the heart ought to be expressed by articulate language, 
 and external actions The teini, l)eing derived irom ihc 
 Latin words ail and orare, signifies, to apply the hand to 
 the mouth, i. e. to kiss the hand. This practice, wiiich 
 seems to be of Persian origin, {Herodot. Clio. Cap. 131.) 
 being one of the great marks of respect and submission 
 in eastern countries, was easily and naturally transfer- 
 red to idolatrous worship. 
 
 Dc La Valle gives the loUowing account of this mode 
 of adoration in India. " At Surat is seen a great and 
 fair tree, held in great veneration. On high, there 
 hangs a bell, which those that come to make their fool- 
 ish devotions, first of all ring out, as if thereby to call the 
 idol to hear them ; then they fall to their adoration, 
 which is commonly to extend both hands downwards, as 
 much as possible, being joined together in a praying pos- 
 ture ; which lifting up again, by little and little, theu 
 bring to their mouths as if to kiss them ; and, lastly, ex- 
 tend them so joined together, as high as they can over 
 their heads, which gesticulation is used only to idols 
 and sacred things. This ceremony being performed, 
 some make their prayers standing ; others prostrate 
 themselves, with their whole bodies grovelling on the 
 earth, and then rise again ; others only touch the ground 
 with the head and forehead, and perform other like 
 acts of hvuTiility." Travel.-, in Lidia, p. 20. 
 
 In the East, it is still considered as a mark of the 
 highest respect, to take off the shoes, and approach 
 barefooted to pay adorations. (See L.rod. iii. 5. and 
 Josh. V. 15.) The Egyptians were particularly attentive 
 to this practice ; and the Mahometans observe it, when- 
 ever they enter their mosques. When Mr Wilkins wish- 
 ed to enter the inner hsiTl of the college of Seeks at Patna, 
 he was told that it was a place of worship, open to him and 
 all men ; but that it was necessary for him to take oft" 
 his shoes, (Asiat. l\'es. vol. i. p. 289) ; and Ives, in his 
 Travels, (p. 75.) says, that "at the doors of an Indian 
 Pagoda, are seen as many slippers and sandals, as there 
 are hats hanging up in our churches." 
 
 The Romans, when practising adoration, having their 
 head covered, applied their hand to their lips, with the 
 fore finger resting on the thumb, which was erect ; and 
 thus bowing the head, turned themselves from left to 
 right. This kiss was called osculum labratum ; for or- 
 dinarily they were afraid to touch the images of their 
 gods with their profane lips. But Saturn and Hercules 
 were adored with the head uncovered ; whence the wor- 
 ship of the last was called institutum peregrinum, and 
 Titus Grxcanius, as being different from the usual method 
 of the Romans. 
 
 Sometimes also standing was the attitude of adoration : 
 sometimes the body was inclined forward, and the eyes 
 fixed on the earth ; sometimes kneeling, wliich was a 
 very common practice ; and sometimes complete prostra- 
 tion on the ground. Sitting, with the under parts of the 
 thighs resting on the heels, seems to have been custom- 
 ary among the Egyptians ; almost all the figures of wor- 
 shippers discovered in their sacred buildings, being 
 represented in this posture. The Persians, and other 
 eastern nations, turn their faces towards the sun, or to 
 the east. 
 
 Adoration was also performed, by placing crowns, gar- 
 lands, &;c. on the statues and images of the gods ; sitting 
 down by them, or praying to them in whispers, to be fa- 
 vourable, favcas mihi.
 
 144 
 
 ADO 
 
 ADR 
 
 These vitcb v.xre practised at sacrifices, offering up 
 vows, consecnumg temples, dedicatiuji spoils, passijig 
 by sacred places, and at the sight ol tne statues and ima- 
 ges ol the gods. Those who implored the aid of the 
 gods, lay dovvn in the temples, as it to receive responses 
 from them in their sleep. (6't»-u. in -i«. vii. 8a. Cic. 
 Divin. i. 43.) And the sick, in particular, did so, in the 
 temple of TEsculapius, {Plant. Circ. i. 1, 61. J Idois 
 were also freqvicntiy placed at the gates oi cities, to re- 
 ceive the homage ol those who passed. 
 
 The Jewisii forms of adoration, were standing, bow- 
 ing, kneeling, and prostration. The Christians adop- 
 ting the Grecian, raliier than the Koman mode, always 
 adore with llieir heads uncovered. The ancient Chris- 
 tians ordinarily knell in private ; but stood on the Lord's 
 day. Tiiis is still the com..ion practice among Presby- 
 terians, and in America ; but the Lutheran churches 
 usually adopt the torm of kneeling ui public worship. 
 The Roman catholics, at the adoration of the cross on 
 Good-1'riday, walk barefooted, though this custom is 
 not observed by them in Protestant countries. Herodo- 
 tus relates, that when the Persians met, if one of them 
 ■was but a little inferior to the otlier, they kissed each 
 other ; but if greatly ulterior, he prostrated hhnself, and 
 adored or worshipped his superior. The manner of 
 adoring their prince, introduced by Cyrus, consisted in 
 bending their knee, falling on their face at his feet, 
 striking the earth with their forehead, and kissing the 
 ground. The kings of Persia, indeed, never admitted 
 any one into their presence, gave audience, or conferred 
 favours, without exacting this ceremony. No instance 
 of servility can be stronger than the following mentioned 
 by d'Herbclot. A conquered prince threw himself on 
 the ground, and kissed the hoof-prints of his victo- 
 rious enemy's horse, reciting the following verses in 
 Persian : 
 
 " The mark that the foot of your horse has left upon 
 the dust, serves me now for a crown. 
 
 " The ring, which I wear as the badge of my slavery, 
 is become my richest ornament. 
 
 "While I have the happiness to kiss the dust of your 
 feet, I shall think that fortune favours me with her ten- 
 derest caresses, and her sweetest kisses." 
 
 The history of Ilaman and Mordecai, shows that simi- 
 lar reverence was paid to the favourites of princes : and 
 according to Philostratus, in the time of ApoUonius, a 
 golden statue of the king was exposed to all who en- 
 tered Babylon ; and none but those who adored it were 
 admitted within the gates. This homage, however, 
 Conon refused to pay to Artaxerxcs, and Callisthenes to 
 Alexander the Great, thinking it unlawful and impious. 
 
 The Roman and Grecian emperors were adored, by 
 bowuig or kneeling at their feet, laying hold of their 
 purple robe, presently withdrawing the hand, and ap- 
 plying it to the lips. This, however, was an honour to 
 which none but persons of some rank or dignity were 
 admitted. The common mode of adoration consisted in 
 falling on the groud, and kissing the feet of the em- 
 peror ; and Dioclesian, who is supposed to have bor- 
 rowed it from Persian servitude, had gems fastened to 
 his shoes, that these honours might be more willingly 
 paid to him. This practice was continued till the last 
 age of the Greek monarchy. Exceptuig only on Sun- 
 days, when it was waved, from a motive of religious 
 pride, this humiliating reverence was exacted from all 
 
 v\ho ciuered the royal presence, from the princes u.- 
 vested with the diadem and purple, and from the am- 
 bassadors who represented their independent sove- 
 reigns, the caliphs of Asia, Egypt, or Spain, the kings 
 of France and Italy, and the Latin emperors of ancient 
 Rome. {Gibbun, chap. liii. vol. x. p. 124. 8vo. Conaiari' 
 rill. Porphyrog. p. 95, 240.) When any one pays his 
 respects to the king of Acheen in Sumatra, he first takes 
 oft' his shoes and stockings, and leaves them at tlic 
 door, {(l) 
 
 ADORATION, as used in the court of Rome, is the 
 ceremony of kissing the pope's feet. It seems to have 
 been borrowed from the imperial court, and was early 
 received by the Romish prelates, who, to prevent the 
 charge of impiety, fastened crucifixes to their slippers, 
 that the adoration intended for the pope might seem to 
 be transferred to Christ. Even princes sometimes of- 
 fered this incense to papal vanity ; and Gregory XIII. 
 actually claimed it as a duty. In the ancient church, the 
 same ceremony is said to have been practised to all 
 bishops ; the people kissing their feet, and saluting thera 
 thus ; Ts-^on-Kva tn, I adore thee, {il) 
 
 ADOWA, the capital of Tigre, a province in Abys 
 sinia, situated on the declivity of a hill, on the west side 
 of a small plain, which is surrounded by mountains, 
 lis name, signifying Jiass, or pansage, is exactly expres- 
 sive of its situation ; for whoever wishes to go from 
 Gondar to the Red Sea, must pass by the flat ground on 
 which Adowa is situated below the river Ribieraini. 
 Adowa, which is the residence of the governor, contains 
 about three hundred houses, each surrounded by an en- 
 closure of hedges and trees. It has a considerable manu- 
 factory of coarse cotton cloth, which circulates as a me- 
 dium of exchange in place of money : each web is val- 
 ued at a pataka, one-tenth of an ounce of gold N. Lat. 
 14° 7'. E. Long. 38" 50'; {k) 
 
 ADOXA, a genus of plants belonging to the class 
 Octandria, and order Tetragynia. See Botany, (to) 
 
 ADRAMYTTIUM, now Audramiti, a town of 
 Mysia Major, at the foot of mount Ida, founded by a col- 
 ony uf Athenians. This city had a harbour and dock 
 near the Caicus, and was once famous for its shipping 
 and trade. It is now a wretched village, inhabited only 
 by a few iishermen. It gave name to the Sinua Adramyt- 
 lenus, an arm of the jEgean sea, and its conventus was 
 the eighth in order of the conventus juridici of Asia. 
 See Strabo, 13. Thucxjd. 5. c. \. (k) 
 
 ADRASTUS, king of Argos, was the son of Talaus 
 and Lysimache. He is known in history as one of the 
 seven warriors, who led their forces against Thebes, in 
 support of Polynices, who had been excluded from his 
 share in the government of that city by his brother 
 Eteocles. Adrasius was the only one of the allied 
 chiefs who survived this expedition; and he is said ta 
 have escaped only by the swiftness of his horse. This 
 war is rendered famous by the Thebaid of Statius. 
 About ten years after, the sons of these seven leaders 
 renewed the war with the Thebans, in order to avenge 
 the death of their fathers. They were called Epigoni, 
 or descendants, and their exploits form the subject of 
 Wilkie's Epigoniad. Adrastus v/as also engaged in 
 this war ; in which Thebes was taken, and his son 
 jEgialeus slain. This last circumstance so afflicted 
 Adrastus, now worn out with age, that he died of grief 
 at Megara, as he was returning with his victorious army 
 to Argos. Jjiollod. !. c. 9.; 3. c. 7. Herodot. 5. c 6r.
 
 ADRIAN. 
 
 u:> 
 
 ADRIAN, or II^DaiAK Puui.ius iinus, a Roman 
 cwpcror. He was !)orn at Rome on the 24lh of January, 
 in the 76ti\ year of the Cnrislian era, and about y29 
 years after the building of llic city. He was proclaimed 
 emperor by tlie legions in the year, 1 17, A. U. C 870 ; 
 or, according to Crevier, A. U. C. 868 ; and he died on 
 Oic lOih of July, A. D. 138. 
 
 Adrian was left an orplian when only ten years of age, 
 and put under the guardianship of Trajan, in conjunc- 
 tion with Caeiius Tatianus, a Ronvan knight. He made 
 a rapid progress in tlie learning of his time ; and seems 
 to have imbibed, at an early period, that love of know- 
 ledge which afterwards distinguished him ; being so re- 
 markable for his acquaintance with the Greek language, 
 that he procured for himself the appellation of " the 
 young Grecian." He served as a tribune of the army 
 in Lower Mcesia ; and had the honour of informing Tra- 
 jan, that Nerva had adopted him as his successor, and 
 of congratulating liim upon that joyful event. He was 
 the first also who carried the intelligence of Nerva's 
 death to the same illustrious person; and having com- 
 niuiiicated the tidings, he immediately saluted him as 
 emperor. But as Trajan disliked him on account of the 
 fickleness of his temper, and the preference which he 
 seemed to give to literature, when compared with arms, 
 Adrian attempted to engage the empress Plotiua in his 
 interests, and courted her with such assiduous atten- 
 tion, that, by her means, (ff £f«7<xj)? <^i^iai, Dio Cass. 
 vol. ii. p. U49. Ed. Reim.) the way to preferment soon 
 became open and easy. He quickly married Sabina, 
 grand-niece to the emperor ; a step which contributed 
 mucli to his advancement, though but little to his hap- 
 piness. He held successively the offices of questor, 
 tribune of the people, praetor, and proconsul ; and, not 
 long before the death of Trajan, he was appointed con- 
 sul and general of the army in Syria. In all these of- 
 iices, except the last, he discharged his duty with uni- 
 versal approbation. It is doubtful whether he was adop- 
 ted by the emperor ; and it is certain that he was never 
 beloved by him. On the death of Trajan, however, at 
 Selinontum, on his way to Rome, Plotina, whom he ap- 
 pears to have gained completely, and to have used as 
 the instrument of his ambition, informed the senate of 
 the emperor's pleasure, which she declared he had 
 made known to her in his last illness, that Adrian should 
 succeed him in the government. Accordingly, he was 
 proclaimed as Csesar by the army ; and, while yet at 
 Antioch, his election was confirmed by the senate ; a 
 body of men who, though once the glory of Rome, and 
 conspicuous for their virtues, had long been so utterly 
 subjected, or so totally corrupt, as to echo the choice of 
 the soldiers, without much inquiry, and with very little 
 concern. 
 
 Adrian was naturally inclined to peace. He felt that 
 the boundaries of the empire had already been extend- 
 ed too widely ; and appears to have been desirous of 
 relinquishing a part of those regions which his pre- 
 decessors had conquered, that he might be able, with 
 greater certainty, or keep "the remainder in his posses- 
 sion. He therefore withdrew his troops from Armenia, 
 Assyria, and Mesopotamia ; and determined that the 
 river Euphrates should again be the limit of the Roman 
 dominions on the east. I5ut his love of peace was the 
 eflect of conviction, and not of hnbecillity ; he saw that it 
 was necessary for the happiness of the state, and was 
 averse to engage in foreign wars. This aversion, how- 
 ever, did not hinder him from taking signal vengeance 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 on the Jews, who had provoked him by their frequent 
 rebellions ; and his conduct towards that unhappy peo- 
 ple seems to have been marked witli a wantuiiness of 
 cruelty which no provocation could justily, and wiiich 
 good policy would iiave led him to avoid. He fbrljade 
 them to enter the holy city except on one clay of the 
 year, the anniversary of their subjugatiori. He erect- 
 ed a temple to Jupiter in the place where the God of 
 the Hebrews was worshipped ; — he profaned their 
 sacred buildhigs with whatever they regained as hatehil 
 or abominable ; — he fixed tiie image of a hog on the 
 marble gate of the city, which led towards Bethlehem; 
 and, confounding those who adhered to tlie instituaons 
 of Moses with the Christians of Palestine, he raised a 
 statue of Venus on Mount Calvary ; and established 
 the worship of Adonis in the grottos of the town where 
 our Saviour was born. Yet while he was, upon the 
 whole, desirous of tranquillity, he knew that the security 
 of the empire depended on the excellence of its troops. 
 He therefore watched with great carefulness over the 
 discipline of his armies ; frequently reviewing the le- 
 gions ; preferring those only who had distinguished 
 themselves by their valour or good conduct; and, in 
 long marches, setting the example of hardy exertion, by- 
 travelling on foot, with his head uncovered, and expos- 
 ing himself to all the severity and changes of the wea- 
 ther. 
 
 After detecting a conspiracy against his life, by four 
 persons of consular dignity, whom he ordered to be put 
 to death, Adrian arrived at Rome, A. D. 118. But 
 though he was received with great demonstrations of 
 joy, on his approach to the capital, he refused to accept 
 of the triumph which had been decreed to him by the 
 Senate; and he had before declined the title of "Father 
 of his Country," in imitation of Augustus, who would 
 not allow himself to be addressed by that title, till he 
 had established his claim to it, by governing well for 
 a certain number of years. At Rome, he endeavoured 
 to acquire popularity by all the arts which were com- 
 mon at that time. He was very liberal in his donations 
 to the people. He remitted debts which cities or in- 
 dividuals owed to the revenue of the emperor, or to the 
 public treasuiy, equal in amount to 7,000,000/. sterling. 
 He freed Italy from the tax usually paid for decorating 
 the triumphs of victorious leaders; and increased the 
 funds which Trajan had set apart for the education of 
 youth, by very considerable additions. He was respect- 
 ful in his behaviour towards the Senate, and assiduous 
 in cultivating their good will ; relieving those who were 
 poor from the pressure of indigence ; enabling them to 
 defray the expense connected with the situations in 
 which he had placed them ; and granting tlie consul- 
 ship for the third time to such as desired that honour. 
 
 Having by these means established his power at home, 
 and having checked the inroads of tlie barbarians, who 
 had invaded Illyricum, Adrian formed the resolution of 
 visiting in person the whole of the provinces under the 
 dominion of Rome ; that he might examine, for himself 
 the state of each country subject to his government, and 
 hear the complaints, and redress the grievances of his 
 people. Nor did he rest satisfied with the speculative 
 grandeur of this resolution, but carried it into effect 
 without dt lay. Accordingly, he visited Gaul in the 
 120th or 121st year of Christ, A. U. C. 871, and showed 
 a wonderful liberality towards the inhabitants of that 
 province ; encouraging agriculture and industry by 
 eveiy method in his power. From Gaul he went into
 
 146 
 
 ADRIAN. 
 
 Gci-niany ! and, the principal army of the empire being 
 there, he inspected it, and restored it to its Ibrnicr dis- 
 cipline. In the succeeding year, he passed over into 
 Britain, where he introduced many regulations, all 
 favourable to the natives : and by these, as well as his 
 conduct in other respects, he rendered their subjection 
 to the Romans more tolerable than it was before. While 
 in this island, his love of peace, or desire of security, 
 showed itself in one remarkable instance : After the de- 
 parture of Agricola, the Scots, Picts, and other northern 
 tribes, had rebelled against the authority of Rome, and 
 effectually recovered their ancient liberty ; and, behig 
 of a warlike and restless disposition, they disturbed the 
 inhabitants of the south by continued inroads and depre- 
 dations. Instead of pursuing these freebooters to their 
 mountains, and reducing them to a nominal dependence, 
 Adrian resolved to keep possession only of that part of 
 the island which is now called England ; and to provide 
 for its security, by constructing a wall or rampart, 
 above 70 miles in length, and extending quite across the 
 country, from the Solway frith on the west, to the 
 mouth of the Tyne on the east. In the prosecution of 
 this design, both a rampart and a ditch were completed 
 in a short time ; and the tranquillity of the Roman 
 dominions in Britain was restored and established. 
 Some portions oi this rampart are yet to be seen ; and it 
 still has the name of Adrian's Wall. Upon his return 
 to the continent, he erected a magnificent palace at 
 Nismes, in honour of the empress Plotina, who had con- 
 tributed so much to his elevation : and passing from 
 Gaul into Spain, he rebuilt the temple of Augustus, 
 which had been founded by the emperor Tiberius. In 
 the latter country, a maniac attempted to put an end to 
 his life ; but Adrian, having fortunately escaped front 
 the danger, took no other notice of the assault than 
 that of committing the unhappy person to medical 
 care. He then returned to Rome ; and, proceeding from 
 the capital to Athens, he visited the most distant pro- 
 vinces of the East. After remaining for some time in 
 Asia, he passed through the islands of the Archipelago, 
 building cities, and refomiing abuses ; and arrived again 
 at Athens, where he spent the winter, and was initiated 
 into the Eleusinian mysteries. In these journeys he was 
 influenced by the spirit of a philosopher, as well as that 
 of an emperor. It was to gratify his love of knowledge, 
 or to indulge a reasonable curiosity, that he went from 
 Athens to Sicily, in order to examine the appearances 
 of that remarkable island, and to observe the rising sun 
 from the top of ^Etna. Having celebrated at Rome the 
 funeral of Plotina with extraordinary pomp, he pursued 
 his journey into Asia Minor ; and having spent some time 
 in that country, and in Egypt, where he repaired the 
 tomb of Pompcy the Great, he returned to Syria; and, 
 passing through Macedonia, continued for a while to 
 reside at Athens. While at Athens, he appeared in the 
 character of Archon, and performed a chief part at the 
 festival in honour of Bacchus. He endowed the city, 
 which had long been the seat of knowledge and the 
 centre of refinement, with a library, containing many 
 precious volumes ; and he built a house, of a most asto- 
 nishing structure, for its reception. Yet, notwithstand- 
 ins;- the mary and sumptuous edifices which he raised, 
 notwithstandine- his profusion of expense in almost every 
 city which he visited, though the property of his suljjects 
 was wholly at his command, and though he had many 
 examples of rapacity in the conduct of his predecessors, 
 he never seized unjustly the possessions of any man, 
 
 nor stained his government by tyrannical exactions. He 
 would not even accept ot legacies, if the persons who 
 bequeathed them were unknown to him : and in the 
 case of his friends, he would take nothing as heir to 
 any one who had children for whom provision ought to 
 be made. 
 
 In the year 155, Adrian, having returned from Athens 
 to Rome, fell into a lingering disease, which terminated 
 in a dropsy. In the course of his illness, the cruelty of 
 his temper, which even in the days of health, he had not 
 always been able to check, increased to such a degree, 
 that he ordered many illustrious persons to be arraigned 
 and executed, and others to be put to death, without 
 trial or accusation. He made choice, first of Commo- 
 dus Verus, and then of Titus Antinous, as his successor 
 in the government. Upon the adoption of the latter, 
 the empress Sabina died; not without a suspicion of 
 being poisoned by Adrian, or treated so harshly as to 
 lie driven, in a fit of sorrow and despair, to put an end 
 to her existence. But whatever ground there may be 
 for this suspicion, the emperor, as was customary at 
 that time, inroUcd her among the number of the deities. 
 The end of Adrian was now approaching. His disease 
 made gradual, but sure advances ; and all the symp- 
 toms of its malignity were increased by a habitual in- 
 temperance, in which he indulged, till at last he sunk 
 under the violence of complicated disorders, and expired, 
 at Baiae, in Campania, after a reign of twenty -one years 
 and eleven months. 
 
 On his deathbed he composed the following beautiful 
 verses, which he addressed to his soul : 
 
 Animula, vagula, blandula, 
 Hospes, comesque corporis, 
 Qiis nunc abibis in loca ' 
 Pallidula, rig-ida, nuduta. 
 Nee, ut 8oles, dabis jocos. 
 
 Ah, fleeting spirit ! wandering fire. 
 
 That long hast warmed my tender breast,' 
 Must thou no more this frame inspire. 
 
 No more a pleasing cheerful guest ! 
 Whither, ah vvliither, art thou flying ? 
 
 To what dark undiscovered shore ? 
 Thou secm'st all trembling, shivering, dying. 
 
 And wit and humour ai-e no more 1 
 
 Pope's Wobks, vol. iii. p. 186. 
 
 The reign of Adrian was not distinguished by any 
 splendid conquest. He is to be regarded as a legisla- 
 tor, a ruler, a patron of learning, and a scholar ; but not 
 as a general, or a successful leader in war. He enac- 
 ted many laws of great utility ; and enforced those 
 which had become dormant. He deprived masters of 
 the power of life and death over their slaves ; he pro- 
 hibited the sale of tliese unfortunate persons ; and for- 
 bade them to be condemned, either as the victims of 
 prostitution, or to fight as gladiators, without the au- 
 thority of the judge. He abolished the use of private 
 prisons. He reformed the police in all the great cities ; 
 and rendered the property of individuals more secure 
 than it had been in any preceding reign. Many of 
 the regulations which he introduced were observed till 
 the end of the fourth century. Considering the termi- 
 nation of disputes by equitable decision, as one of the 
 principal duties of a sovereign, he was active and faith- 
 ful ui the discharge of it : and in cases, w here the mat- 
 ter was doubtful, he sought the aid of the most experi- 
 enced lawyers, in order to guide his judgment. He 
 Was a patron of learning, and accessible at all times to
 
 ADRIAN. 
 
 u: 
 
 those who. pj'ol'caScd it; encfxiragiiig thciiito diligence 
 in the acquisition of knowledge, and rewarding ihcm ac- 
 cording to their deserts. Phlcgon, Favonnus, Epicte- 
 tus, Arrian, Florus, Plutarch, Uionysius of Ilalicarnas- 
 sus, Philo of Byblos, and Suetonius, all flourished in his 
 reign; names which, though not ccjual in celebrity to 
 those of the writers in the Augustan period, hold a con- 
 siderable place in the annals of literature. He was him- 
 self a scholar, and composed many works both in prose 
 and verse. A Greek poem which he wrote, and called 
 the Alcxandriad, has been quoted with approljation by 
 some of the ancients ; though, in his Catacriani, he is 
 said to have followed Antimachus, whom he preferred 
 to Homer. He was the most accomplished orator, 
 granunarian, philosopher, and mathematician of his 
 time.* Such was the strength of his memory, that he 
 knew the name of every soldier in his army, and could 
 address him by it ; and such his readiness and command 
 over his attention, that it was often his practice to write, 
 to dictate to a secretary, and to converse with his min- 
 isters about the affiiirs of the empire, at the same time. 
 To this enviable character, historians have added, that 
 he was fickle, licentious, and cruel ; and have charged 
 him with suspiciousness and credulity : Nor is it to be 
 denied, that while he was often eminent for virtue, he 
 was sometimes noted for vice. Sec JElius H/iartianiis, in 
 Adrian. Dion. Cass. Hist. Roman, torn. ii. p. 1 149^ 
 1 170. Ed. Reiinari. Horsley's Britannica Roinana. 
 Univ. Hist. vol. xiii. p. 269 ; and Crevier's Rom. Jim/iire, 
 vol. vii. b. 19. (/O 
 
 ADRIAN I., (Pope) the son of Theodore, a Roman 
 nobleman, was raised to the pontificate A.D. 772. His 
 steady attachment to Charlemagne, in opposition to De- 
 siderius king of the Lombards, was rewarded by the 
 protection, munificence, and homage of the French mo- 
 narch. Charlemagne, successfully defended him against 
 the arms of Desiderius ; visited him at Rome ; con- 
 firmed and extended the grants, which his father Pepin 
 had made to the popedom ; foi'med a perpetual alliance 
 between the French monarchy and the supreme eccle- 
 siastical power ; and expressed his reverence for the 
 established religion by the humiliating ceremony of 
 kissing Adrian's feet, and each of the steps by which he 
 ascended to the church of St Peter. He afterwards de- 
 livered the pope from the encroachments of the bishop 
 of Ravenna, who claimed and had seized the exarchate 
 and dukedom of Ferrara ; and in recompense for this 
 service, was proclaimed king of the Lombards, and in- 
 vested with the rights of temporal sovereignty in the 
 territories of the Roman See. Though the general 
 council held at Constantinople, A. D. 7j4, had condemn- 
 ed the worship of images, the empress Irene had no 
 sooner assumed the regency, during the minority of her 
 son, than she determined to re-establish this idolatry ; 
 and, on applying for Adrian's concurrence, obtained his 
 consent to the calling of another council. It met first 
 at Nice, A. D. 786, but being dispersed by an insurrec- 
 tion of the citizens, the decree restoring this idolatrous 
 worship was not passed till the following year. But 
 though Adrian gave his approbation to this decree, and 
 succeeded in establishing its dogmas in Italy, it was op- 
 
 * The splendid buildings with which he adorned 
 every part of his empire, evinces proofs of a more pure 
 «nd more splendid taste, than is to be found in the works 
 of any of his successors. Latrobe» 
 
 posed by the churches of France, Germany, England, 
 and Spain. Four books, called IJM Caro/ini, contain- 
 ing one hundred and twenty objections against the Ni- 
 cene council, were published as the work of Charle 
 magne, and sent by him to Adrian. They execrate the 
 council, and deny it the title of ecumenical ; pour the 
 most insolent abuse both on Irene and her son ; and en- 
 deavour to turn into ridicule the arguments in favour of 
 images. Adrian wrote an answer to Cliarlemagne, ia 
 which he evidently temporizes on the subject, appear- 
 ing afraid to avow his real sentiments, lest he should 
 incur the displeasure of his illustrious patron and frietjd. 
 Another council was held, A. D. 794, at Frankfoit on tlic 
 Maine, when image worship was again condemned. 
 But Adrian did not live to see the termination of the 
 contest, for he died in 795, after reigning nearly twen- 
 ty-four years. Though he made no pretensions to lite- 
 rature, the walls of Rome, the sacred patrimony, the 
 ruin of the Lombards, and the friendship of Charle- 
 magne, were the trophies of his fame. He secretly edi- 
 fied the throne of his successors, and displayed in a 
 narrow space the virtues of a great prince. His merits 
 and hopes are sitmmed up in an epitaph of thirty-eight 
 verses, of which Charlemagne declares himself the au- 
 thor. (Concil. tom. viii. p. 520.) 
 
 Post patrem lacrymans Carolus hsc carmina scripsL 
 Tu milii diilcis amoi', ie niodo plango pater — 
 Nomina jiingosimultitulis, clarrssinic, nostra, 
 Adrianiis, Carolus, rex ego, tuque pater. 
 
 The poetry might be supplied by Alcuin ; but the tears, 
 the most glorious tribute, can belong only to Charle- 
 magne. See Gibbon, chap. xlix. vol. ix. p. 171. Pla- 
 tin. de Fills Ponlif. M. Fleury, Hist. Reel. tom. ix. (d) 
 
 ADRIAN II., (Pope) a native of Rome, and sonofTa- 
 larus, a bishop, succeeded Nicholas I., A. D. 867, in the 
 seventy-sixth year ol his age. After having twice re- 
 fused the pontificate, he was prevailed upon to accept of 
 it, by the unanimous request of the cardinals, nobility, 
 and people. The schism between the Greek and tho 
 Latin churches was about this time increased by the 
 ambition of Photius, who, from a civil department, had 
 been raised by merit and favour to the patriarchate of 
 Constantinople ; but whom Nicholas had, from motives 
 of jealousy, subjected to the excommunication of the 
 papal see. Photius, in revenge, had excommunicated 
 Nicholas ; and Adrian on his accession, supported by 
 Basil the Greek emperor, again subjected Photius to this 
 ecclesiastical punishment, and procured the restoration 
 of Ignatius, the ex-patriarch of the East. This was ap- 
 proved by a council held at Constantinople, in 869, 
 which also silenced, for a season, the disputes between 
 the Eastern and Western churches. But Adrian's am- 
 bition was not satisfied with this temporary victory ovet: 
 his eastern rivals ; for he attempted, though without sue 
 cess, to extend his authority and influence, by soliciting, 
 and even ordering Charles the Bald, who had taken pos- 
 session of the kingdom of Lorraine, to relinquish it in 
 favour of the Emperor; and by taking Carloman, the 
 rebellious son of Charles, and the younger Hincmai-', 
 bishop of Laon, under his protection. After a turbulent 
 and ambitious reign of five years, he died A. D. 872. 
 See Plalina. Mosheim. Gibbon, vol. xi. 173. d 
 
 ADRIAN III., (Pope) a Roman, succeeded Martin II., 
 A. D. 884. Desirous of freeing Italy and the pontifi- 
 cate from the encroachments of tlie emperbr of Germa- 
 ny, he issued a decree, that, if Charles died without 
 
 T 2
 
 148 
 
 ADRIAN. 
 
 leaving a son to succeed him, the title of emperor should 
 be bebtovved on an Italian only ; and tl'.at no regard 
 should be paid to the emperor in the election of a pope. 
 Basil could not prevail witli him to annul the cxcom- 
 niunicaiion of Photius the Eastern patiiarch. He died 
 in 885, on his way to the diet of Worms, having reign- 
 ci\ only 14 months. See riaCitiu. Bower, {(t) 
 
 ADRIAN IV., (Pope) the only Englihimian who 
 ever attained that dignity, was raised to tlie pontificate 
 A. D. 1154. His orignial name was Nicholas Breke- 
 spcre, a native of Langley, near St Albans, in Hertlord- 
 sliirc. Bciug refused admission into the monastery at 
 Si Albans, where his father had assumed the monastic 
 habit, he went to Paris ; and though extremely poor, 
 soon attracted notice by his uncommon application, and 
 his proficiency in tlieological studies. From Paris he 
 removed to Provence, where he became a regular clerk 
 in the monastery of St Rufus. In consequence of his 
 prudence, learning, and attention to discipline, he was 
 first advanced to the canonical order ; and afterwards, 
 on the death of the abbot, in 1137, was chosen superior 
 of the institution. Notwithstanding his acknowledged 
 merit, the monks would not submit to the goveniment of 
 a foreigner ; and Pope Eugenius HI. was obliged to 
 remove him in 1 14(5, though, as a proof of his esteem, 
 he inmaedialely appointed him cardinal bishop of Alba. 
 Two years after, he was sent as papal legate to Den- 
 mark and Norway, where he converted those nations to 
 the Catholic faith, and erected the archiepiscopal see of 
 Upsal. On returning to Rome, after the deatli of Pope 
 Anastasius, he was unanimously chosen to fill the va- 
 cant chair ; and assumed the name of Adrian. As soon 
 as the account of his promotion reached England, Henry 
 II. sent the abbot ol St Albans and three bishops to con- 
 gratulate him ; and though he refused the valuable pre- 
 sents which they oflered him, he bestowed considerable 
 grants on that monastery ; particularly an exemption 
 from all jurisdiction, except that of the papal see. Scarce- 
 ly v;as he seated on the throne, when Arnold of Brescia, 
 who had been repeatedly condemned under the pontifi- 
 cates of Innocent the Second and Anastasius the Fourth, 
 for sowing seeds both of religious and political dissen- 
 sion among the subjects of Rome, felt the effects of his 
 vengeance. He forced the magistrates to renounce the 
 liberty, which they had assumed, of electing consuls with- 
 out the authority of the pope ; refused to enter the late- 
 ran till Arnold, the champion of liberty, was banished 
 from the city ; and when the people, in revenge, had kill- 
 ed or wounded one of the cardinals, he laid an interdict 
 on their religious worship, which continued from Christ- 
 mas to Easter. The banishment of Arnold procured the 
 removal of this interdict ; but Adrian was yet unappeas- 
 ed, and nothing but the death of this seditious innovator 
 would satisfy him. At length, having made peace with 
 Frederic Barbarossa, king of the Romans, who conde- 
 scended to hold his stirrup whilst he mounted his horse, 
 Adrian, to the great mortification of his own subjects, 
 pHccd the imperial crown on the head of this prince, 
 and obt?Jned, by his influence, \he recal of Arnold, who 
 had fled for protection to the viscounts of Campania. 
 He was accordingly brought to Rome, publicly burned 
 alive, and his ashes were thrown into the Tiber, lest the 
 h( retics should collect and worship the relics of their 
 master. The same year, 1 155, Adrian excommunicated 
 William, king of Sicily, for ravaging the territories of 
 the church ; but was afterwards reconciled to him, and 
 honoured him with the title of KUi^ of the Ttvo SkiUeSi 
 
 Adrian died in 1 159, after a short, but enterprising and 
 vigorous reign of four years and nine months ; during 
 wliich, tliough he added considerably to the dignity and 
 power of the papal dominions, he found, as he wrote to 
 his friend and countryman, John of Salisbury, that the 
 pontificate was a situation of diliiculty and danger ; and 
 that its splendid crown often burns the head that wears 
 it. Some of his letters and homilies are still extant. 
 See Muratori. iicri/it. Her. Ital. I^tulin. Huron. An. toin. 
 xii. Hume's Hint. vol. i. p. 445. (t/) 
 
 ADRIAN v., (Pope) a Genoese, whose original name 
 was Ottoboni Fiesci, succeeded Innocent V. A. D. 1276. 
 He was nephew to Innocent IV., and being created car- 
 dinal deacon of St Adrian, was, in 1254, sent as his am- 
 bassador to settle the disputes between Henry 111. of 
 England and his barons, lie was deputed on a similar 
 mission, when Clement HI. excommunicated Henry's 
 enemies. When congratulated on his accession to the 
 pontificate, he said, " I wish you had found me a healthy 
 cardinal rather than a dying pope." Immediately aftc/ 
 his election, he went to Viterbo to concert measures 
 with the emperor Rodolphus, for checkmg the power of 
 Charles, king of the two Sicilies, but died there before 
 his consecration had taken place, having been pope on- 
 ly 38 days. He was a zealous promoter of the crusade 
 to the Holy Land, and liberally contributed money, and 
 other supplies for its support. See Platina. Bower, (rf) 
 
 ADRIAN VI., (Pope) succeeded Leo X., A.D. 1522. 
 He was a native of Utrecht, of an obscure family, and ed- 
 ucated gratuitously at Louvain. Possessed of consider- 
 able literary talents, he devoted himself to the study of 
 scholastic theology, and became distinguished as a sub- 
 tle defender of the doctrines of Aquinas. He rose to the 
 highest honours in the university of Louvain, being made 
 professor of divinity, and \ ice-chancellor, holding at the 
 same time the deanery of the cathc-dral. His appoint- 
 ment as preceptor to Charles V. excited the jealousy of 
 De Chievres his governor, through whose influence he 
 was removed from his superintendence of the young 
 prince's education, and sent ambassador to the court of 
 Spain, where Ferdmand bestowed on him the bishopric 
 of Tortosa. Adrian was made a cardinal by Leo, in 1517; 
 and on the succession of Charles to the Spanish throne, 
 was appointed regent of the kingdom during the new 
 king's minority ; though this was chiefly a nominal dig- 
 nity, as Cardinal Ximenes took the active management 
 both of the church and state. His situation, however, 
 involved him in considerable difficulties, his scholastic 
 habits being ill suited to the government of a licentious 
 and turbulent people ; and his unexpected elevation to 
 the papal chair only changed the nature of his difficul- 
 ties, and the scene of his mismanagement. This event 
 appears to have been occasioned by the art of Julio de 
 Medicis, himself a candidate for the pontificate, who, 
 to prevent the success of his rival, Alexander Farnese, 
 and to gain the friendship and protection of the Empe- 
 ror, voted, with his party in the conclave, for Adrian, 
 though a stranger to Italy, and unqualified for the office. 
 
 Adrian, at the time of his election, January 9, 1522. 
 was at Victoria, in Biscay, and did not reach Rome till 
 September, when he applied himself to remedy the dis- 
 orders, which an anarchy of eight months had occasion- 
 ed ; to correct the extravagance which prevailed among 
 the ecclesiastics, by setting them an example of modera-- 
 tion and temperance ; to reform the dissolute manners 
 of the court and city ; and to re-establish the peace of 
 flic church, which fee spirit of Luther and the impi-tt-
 
 ADR 
 
 ADV 
 
 149 
 
 dencc of Leo hud so completely distiirbed. But ncilli- 
 er Ills laleiUs, his habits, nor his mauucrs, were suited to 
 the situat.ou which he held, or the plans which he torm- 
 cd. His attempts to checii the progress oi the retorma- 
 tion, by endeavouring to correct the abuses that existed 
 in aUnost every degartmeut ol the churcli, were peculi- 
 arly unsuccesstul. Thwarted by the whoie ecclesiastical 
 body, whose pride and luxury were supported by these 
 very abuses, he saw, with uiii'eigned regret, the impos- 
 s-ibiuty ot making any important or general reform; and 
 on one occasion feelingly said to two of his contidential 
 friends, that " the condition of a pope was the most un- 
 happy thai could be conceived ; because he is not at li- 
 berty to do what is right, though he had the inclination, 
 and could find the means." His subsequent briefs and 
 bulls were not only equally inefTectual to crush the inte- 
 rests of the Protestant reiormation, but the acknowledg- 
 ments of the general corruption of the clergy, which they 
 contained, by justifying Luther's invectives against them, 
 greatly added to the effect of this intrepid retbrmer's 
 writings and labours. Adrian died of a fever, Septem- 
 ber 24, 1523, having reigned a year and eight months. 
 His private character was amiable ; but his pul)lic con- 
 duct wanted firmness and prudence. Never was there 
 a pope more hated by the cardinals, or more despised 
 by the people. His intentions, though good, were often 
 misrepresented ; hismorals, though correct, and even se- 
 vere, were calumniated ; his plans of reform, though no- 
 ble and disinterested, were ascribed to weakness and 
 austerity. Learned as a scholastic divine, firmly attach- 
 ed to the doctrines of the church, and possessed of great • 
 er sinceiity than was suited to a station which could be 
 maintained only by fraud and hypocrisy, lie lived in con- 
 tinual perplexity and fear ; and died unlamented, almost 
 without a friend to regi-et his loss. In the church of 
 St Peter, where he was buried, the following epitaph 
 concisely and justly delineates his character : 
 
 Adrianus Pafia VI. hie situs est, 
 Qui nihil sibi ijifeticius 
 
 In -vita, 
 Quam (juod iinfteraret. 
 Dux-it. 
 
 Destitute of taste for the fine arts, they received no en- 
 couragement from his patronage; and his knowledge 
 of literature was chiefly confined to the theology of the 
 schools. Whilst at Lou vain, he wrote a "Conimentai'y 
 on the Book of Sentences, by Peter Lombard ;" " Epis- 
 tles;" and '■'■Qu.estioties Quod/idetiea," printed at Lou- 
 vain 1515; and at Paris, 1516 and 1531. See Vubin. 
 Bower. Sec/cendorf. Beausobre Hist, de la Rcfonna- 
 tion. Hume's Hist. vol. iv. p. 39, 40. (rf) 
 
 ADRIANOPLE, or Andkinople, a celebrated city 
 of Turkey, in Europe, in the province of Romania, built, 
 or restored, by the emperor Adrian, from whom it has 
 received its name. This city was built in honour of An- 
 tinous,and at first bore the name oi Antinoa. It is situa- 
 ted in a plain encircled with hills, on very unequal ground 
 on the banks of the river Mariza. It is about five miles 
 in circumference, of a circular form, and surrounded 
 by a wall flanked with towers. The houses are well 
 built ; but the streets are uneven, narrow, and dirty- 
 It has, however, a fine bazar, or market place, called All 
 Bassa, which is an arched building, about half a mile 
 long, with six gates and 365 elegant shops, occupied by 
 Turks, Armenians, and Jews. Besides the Ali Bassa, 
 
 there is another bazar of meaner appearance, about a 
 mile long, lull of well provided shops, in a (iifferent 
 part of tne town is the bczestein, to which is conhiicd 
 the sale of every article of gold and silver, jewels, pis- 
 tols, scimitars, kc- It contains about 200 shops, anil 
 has a covering of boards, supported by two rows of 
 large pil.ars. The palace ol the grand vizier is re- 
 markable only for its extent and pleasant situation; it is 
 about two miles in compass, and lias seven gates. It is 
 built after the Turkish style, and its gardens are said to 
 be several milts in circumference. But the chief ob- 
 jects of attention in Adrianople are four mosques of ex- 
 quisite taste and workmanship. Their high and elegant 
 steeples; their galleries raised on pillars of beautiful 
 sctilpture, with pedestals and chapiters of cast brass; 
 gates of precious marble, exquisitely carved; delight- 
 ful fountains and stately porticos; cupolas surmounted 
 with gilded balls — every thing here arrests the eye, and 
 wears an air of magnificence. Adrianople was taken 
 from the Greek emperor by sultan Amurath I. in 1362, 
 and continued the capital of the Turkish empire till the 
 taking oi Constantinople in 1453. At present, it is un- 
 der the government of a Mullah Cadi, whose authority 
 in civil and criminal matters is uncontrolled. It is the 
 seat of a Greek bishop, under the patriarch of Constan- 
 tinople ; and contains about 100,000 inhaliitants, or, ac- 
 cording to other accounts, 130,000. Here the grand 
 signior frequently resides, particularly v/hen he finds it. 
 unsafe to remain at Constantinople. The adjacent coun- 
 try is very fertile, and its wine is esteemed the best in 
 Turkey. N. Lat. 41° 41'. E. Long. 26° 27'. {k) 
 
 ADRIATIC Sea, or the Gulf of Venice, an arm of 
 the Mediterranean, about 200 leagues long and 50 broad, 
 which stretches along the cast of Italy on one side, and 
 the west of Dalmatia, Sclavoiiia, and Turkey on the 
 other. The temperature of the Adriatic is considera- 
 bly higher in summer than that of the Mediterranean ; 
 but is frequently so low in v.'inter, that it is completely 
 frozen near Venice. The dominion of the Adriatic be- 
 longs to the Venetians. This sea extends from south- 
 east to north-west between 12° 9' and 19° 48'of E. Long, 
 and between 40° 15' and 45° 49' of N. Lat. (w) 
 
 ADRUMETUM, or Hadrumetum, the capital of 
 Byzacium, in Africa, an ancient and famous city, whose 
 situation Dr Shaw supposes to have been the same with 
 that of the present Herkla. It was the Justiniaiia of the 
 middle empire, and the Heraclta of the lower. It had 
 many different names; Adrume, Adrumetus, Adrymet- 
 tus, Adrumetum, Hirtius, and Hadrito. (/(■) 
 
 ADUAR, or Adouar, a kind of moveable village, 
 composed of tents, and used by the Arabs. In the king- 
 dom of Algiers there are no less than 30,000 aduars. (w) 
 
 ADVENTURE Bay, the name which captain Cooke 
 gave to a bay in the southcri] part of New Holland, cal- 
 led Van Diemen's Land. At the bottom of Adventure 
 Bay there is a beautiful sandy beach, apparently formed 
 by particles which the sea washes from a fine white sand- 
 stone. In a plain behind the beach, there is a brackish 
 lake out of which captain Cooke's party caught some 
 bream and trout. A forest of tall trees, rendered im- 
 pervious by brakes of fern and shrubs, covers the hilly 
 ground contiguous to the bay. The country appears in 
 general very dry, and the heat is intense. 
 
 The inhabitants, mild and cheerful, have little of the 
 v/ild appearance common to savages. In genius and 
 personal activity, they are as deficient as the wretched- 
 natives of Terra del Fuego. . Their complexion is 8 dul
 
 15U 
 
 ADU 
 
 ADU 
 
 l)lack ; their hair peri'ectly -woollr; their ncfst's arc broad 
 and full; ihcir eyes are of a moderate size, and, though 
 neither quick nor piercing, they give the countenance a 
 (rank and cheerful appearance. (X) 
 
 ADVENTURERS, Merchant, a name given, iii 
 1505, by king- Henry VII., to the first society of mer- 
 chants and traders, that had been long established for the 
 advancement ol comnitVce. It was erected bypatcntby 
 king Edward I., merely for the exportation of wool, Sec. 
 before we kncAV the value of that commodity, and when 
 we were in a great measure unacquainted with trade. 
 This company oljtained privileges from John, duke of 
 IJrabant, in 1290, and established itself at Antwerp, in 
 conjunction with the other English merchants who re- 
 sorted to that place. The privileges of this society were 
 successively confirmed by the sovereigns of England. 
 Henry VI. granted it a charter in 1430; and in 1564, 
 queen Elizabeth formed the company into an English 
 corporation. 
 
 The Merchant Adventurers of London had long been 
 accustomed to demand a tax from the English merchants 
 resident ui other places, for the privilege of trading in 
 the great fairs of Flanders, Brabant, Sec. This impost 
 amounted at first only to 6s. 8d.; but about the time of 
 Henry VII. it had increased to 401. The merchants re- 
 siding in the out poits, who were called the Merchant 
 Adventurers of England, applied to Parliament for re- 
 lief from this imposition ; and an act was passed in their 
 favour in 1497, 12 Henry VII. cap. 6. reducing the tax 
 to 61. 13s. 4d. 
 
 When Charles V. established the inquisition in the 
 Netherlands in 1550, the company of merchant adven- 
 lurers had sufficient influence to prevent its being intro- 
 duced into Antwerp, (tu) 
 
 ADVERB is a word, which is joined to adjectives 
 and verbs, for the purpose of modifying their significa- 
 tion. As adjectives and verbs denote the attributes of 
 substantives, they have been called attributes of the 
 first order ; but as adverbs denote the attributes of ad- 
 jectives and verbs, they have received the name of at- 
 tributes of attributes, or attributives of the second or- 
 der. See Harris's Hermes, p. 192, and Home Tooke's 
 Diruersions of Pur/ey- 'p. 49i. See also Grammar, (w) 
 
 ADVERSATIVE, the name of a species ot disjunc- 
 tive conjunctions, which express not only a relation of 
 diversity, but a relation of opposition ; as when we say, 
 "It is not summer, but it is winter," where but is the 
 adversative. See Harris's Hermes, p. 251, and Gram- 
 mar. (-71') 
 
 ADULARIA, a sub-species of Felspar, distinguished 
 from common felspar by colour, colour-reflection, frac- 
 ture, lamellar, distijict concretions, and high degree of 
 transparency. See Oryctognosy. (r) 
 
 ADULTERATION, from adulterare, to corrupt, that 
 of corrupting any substance by mixing with it some- 
 thing of less value. The laws against the adulteration 
 of the comforts and necessaries of life may be found 
 from the follow'mg references : — Stat. 23. Eliz. cap. 8. ; 
 13 W. III. cap. 5. ; 1 W. Sc M. cap. 34.; 10 Anne, cap. 
 26. ; 1 Geo. I. cap. 46. ; 11 Geo. I. cap. 30. ; 3 Geo. III. 
 cap. 1 1 . 
 
 Coin is adulterated by forging another inscription, or 
 stamp, by mixing with the gold and silver a wrong metal 
 for an alloy, or by making the alloy too great. For an 
 account of the adulteration of wine, see Beckmann's 
 fiist.of Invntions^ vol. i. p. 396, and Wine, (to) 
 
 AUUIyTERY, d. violation of conjugal faith by crimi- 
 
 nal uitercoursc with any person, either married or sin- 
 gle. When an unmarried person is one of the offend- 
 ing parlies, he is supposed to be equally guilty of this 
 crime. 
 
 Some nations have considered the criminality of adul- 
 tery to consist merely in giving away what belonged to 
 another, without his consent ; and that, if committed by 
 mutual agreement, the action was rendered innocent. 
 Thus the Spartans, so far from considering it as a crime, 
 or as an aflront upon the husband, allowed the same 
 libeilies to be tak; n with their own wives, which they 
 took with those of their neighbours; and even oflered 
 them to strangers as a token of respect. This, however^ 
 was confined entirely to the husband. Infidelity in the 
 female sex was unknown in Sparta, and the laws of Ly- 
 curgus make no mention of such a crime. In some 
 pans of India, the inhabitants surrender their wives and 
 daughters to the embraces of a stranger, and look upon 
 it not only as innocent, but praiseworthy, and the surest 
 pledge they can give of their hospitality and friendship. 
 In other places, an elephant is the stipulated price for 
 which a wife is permitted to prostitute herself; and the 
 woman thinks it no small honour to be rated so high. 
 Among the JVIingrelians, a hog is regarded as a suffi- 
 cient compensation to the injured husband. 
 
 At Calabar, in Guinea, the female offender is tied 
 firmly under an ant's nest which hangs in the trees, and 
 is bigger than a bushel. The nest is then shaken down 
 upon her with a pole, and she is kept in this position for 
 about half an hour, till she is almost slung to death. She 
 is then carried to a fire, where her back is heated, -and 
 cut with ten gashes, as marks by which she may be 
 known. If she offends a second time, she is sold by her 
 husband. See Osborne's Voyages, vol. ii. p. 517. 
 
 Most civilized nations have looked upon adultery, in 
 eveiy form, as a crime of a very heinous nature, and de- 
 serving of severe punishment: And when we reflect 
 upon the miserable consequences, which naturally re- 
 sult from a violation of conjugal fidelity, we cannot but 
 feel that just indignation, which has, in all ages, been 
 excited against this invasion of domestic happiness. 
 
 The various punishments, which were inflicted upon 
 adulterers in former limes, show us, that the ancients 
 had juster ideas of this crime, than those which prevail 
 at present. By the Jewish law, adultery, in either sex, 
 was punished with death ; and we learn from Strabo, 
 that the same punishment prevailed in Arabia Felix. 
 
 In Greece, adulteiy was regarded as a stain upon the 
 husband's honour, that could only be effaced by the se- 
 verest punishment, or the death of the offenders. Ac- 
 cording to Pausanias, Hyettus, an inhabitant of Argos, 
 was the first who instituted laws against this crime. 
 Having slain Molurus, his wife's paramour, he fled to 
 Orchomenus, a city of Bceotia. Being kindly received 
 by the king, who bestowed upon him a part of his terri- 
 tories, he built the city Hyettus, and decreed severe 
 punishments against adulterers. We find in Homer, 
 that adulterers were stoned to death. Thus Hector, 
 when charging this crime upon Paris, says: 
 
 For these your crimes you hud been stoned to dcatli. 
 
 At Athens, by the laws of Draco and Solon, adulterers, 
 caught in the act, were at the mercy of the offended par- 
 ty, who might inflict upon them an arbitraiy punishment. 
 But, contrary to the practice of all modern lawgivers
 
 ADULTERY. 
 
 151 
 
 seduction, in such cases, was considered a greater crime 
 than violence; for, if the wife was compelled by Ibrce, 
 the husband could only demand a pecuniary fine, at the 
 discretion of the judges. Rich men, however, were 
 sometimes allowed to redeem themselves, even ui cases 
 of seiluction, by paying a heavy fine to the injured hus- 
 band. Adulteresses, in Cireece, were ever alter looked 
 upon as polluted and infamous; they were prohibited 
 from entering the temples, and appearing in fine gar- 
 ments. The Locrians deprived adulterers of their eyes. 
 This punishment was strictly enjoined by their lawgiver 
 Ztleucus, who set them a remarkable example, by pas- 
 sing -sentence upon his own son. The young man was 
 beloved by the people, who earnestly implored /cleu- 
 cus to pardon him. The father, deaf to their entreaties, 
 shov\ed them, that he regarded adultery as a crime 
 which ought not to be forgiven, and yielded so far as to 
 redeem one of his son's eyes by the loss of one of his 
 own. 
 
 Among the Romans, during the republic, the stated 
 punishment of this crime is unknown. Some suppose 
 it to have been capital by the laws of the Twelve Tables ; 
 but it seems rather to have been left to the discretion 
 of the husband or parents of the offending female. The 
 general punishment was castration, or cutting off" the 
 nose, ears, Sec. By the Xcx Julia ilc jldulttriiK, insti- 
 tuted by Augustus, the offenders were banished to se- 
 parate islands, and condemned to pay a heavy line. It 
 was afterwards decreed by Antoninus, that the charge of 
 adultery, brought by a husband against his wife, could 
 not be sustained, unless he himself were innocent : — 
 " Pi-r ini(/!ciim enim videtur esse ut fiudicitiani vir ex 
 uxore exiffat, quam i/ise non exhibcat." Constantine is 
 thought to have been the first who declared it a capital 
 crime. In the reign of his son Constasitius, adulterers 
 were burned, or sewed in sacks, and thrown into the sea. 
 But this punishment was greatly mitigated by Justinian 
 towards females. The adulteress was scourged, and 
 shut up in a monastery ; from which if her husband did 
 not take her witliin two years, she was shaven, and con- 
 fined for life. Theodosius instituted the abominable 
 punishment of public constupration, which was soon 
 after abolished. The Romans made a distinction be- 
 tween a married and an unmarried adulteress. The 
 one was called adiillera, the other /;f//(.'j", which last be- 
 longed rather to stufirum. 
 
 By the ancient laws of France, this crime was punish- 
 able with death. In the beginning of the fourteenth 
 century, two gentlemen of Normandy, being convicted 
 of adultery with the daughters-in-law of Philip le Bel, 
 were condemned to be flayed alive, hanged, and quar- 
 tered ; and the offending princesses were sentenced to 
 perpetual imprisonment. But this punishment was in 
 general greatly mitigated. In 1557, it was ordained in 
 some districts, that the offender should run naked 
 through the streets, and pay a heavy fine. 
 
 Before the establishment of Christianity, the common 
 punishment in Poland was emasculation. The adulterer 
 was carried to the market-place, and nailed by the tes- 
 ticles to a stake, where he was left either to inliict the 
 punishment upon himself, or to perish. 
 
 By the Spanish laws, the offender was punished by 
 the loss of that part which was the instrument of the 
 crime. But the practice of adulteiy has now grown so 
 fi-equent in that country, particulnrly among the monks, 
 that this punishment is never inflicted. These ascetic 
 tiiortals, being restrained from marriage by the rules of 
 
 their order, and unwilling to refrain from those plea- 
 sures, which by their vow they have sworn to forsake, 
 indulge themselves in all the wantonness of lascivious 
 debauchery. The jealousy of the husband is lulled 
 asleep by the devout appearance of the offender; and 
 the wife is consoled for the loss of her honour by the 
 promise of absolution, — an infallible specific for a guilty 
 conscience. 
 
 In Portugal, an adulteress is condemned to the flames ; 
 biU this sentence is seldom piu in execution. 
 
 The Mahomniedan code, which rules so extensive a 
 portion of the world, pronounces adultery a capital of- 
 fence, and one of the three crimes which, according to 
 the Prophet, must be expiated by the blood of a Mus- 
 sulman. 
 
 In our own country, the laws, respecting this crime, 
 have varied at different periods. In England, during 
 the Saxon heptarchy, the punishment was death ; and 
 by the laws of Ethelbert, the adulterer was obliged to 
 pay a fine to the injured husband, and to purchase him 
 another wife. In the beginning of the eleventh century, 
 banishment was inflicted on the adulterer, and the loss of 
 the nose and ears was the punishment of the adulteress. 
 In the reign of Henry I. this crime was punished by the 
 loss of eyes and genitals. The laws at present, though 
 severe, are almost obsolete ; and the punishment com- 
 monly inflicted upon adulterers is so trivial, and so in- 
 adequate to the crime, that we cannot but recognise in 
 it a near approach to the popish practice of indulgences. 
 The adulterer is fined at the discretion of a jury, and 
 the fine is given to the injured husband, as a compen- 
 sation for the loss of his peace and honour. Tlie of- 
 fending wife loses nothing but her dowry. 
 
 In Scotland, a distinction is made between notour and 
 simlile adultery. Notour is, when they live openly to- 
 gether at bed and board, and beget children. By a 
 statute, 1551, c. 20, this crime was punished by the loss 
 of moveables ; but afterwards, by an act in 1563, cap. 74, 
 it was rendered capital ; and during the seventeenth 
 century in particular, several persons were actually ex- 
 ecuted for adultery. Simple adultery is left to the dis- 
 cretion of the judge, who gives damages to the injured 
 husband, as in England, in proportion to the circum- 
 stances of the offender. 
 
 In both countries, this crime is sufTicient ground for 
 the injured party to obtain a divorce. In England, this 
 is done by an act of parliament, and in Scotland by a more 
 simple proceeding in the conur.on courts of law. By a 
 divorce, the parlies are placed in the same situation in 
 which they were before marriage ; the dowry is restored 
 by the offending husband, and the rank or title acquired 
 by marriage is lost by the offending wife. In England, 
 the persons divorced may marry tliose with whom the 
 crime was committed ; but this is prohibited by the 
 law of Scotland. 
 
 From the laws at present in force against adultery, 
 we cannot but perceive how far disproportioned they are 
 to the heinousness of the crime. We cannot boast of 
 their having been at all efficient for the purpose .for 
 which they were intended. Adultery prevails in an 
 alarming degree. Actions of this description, which 
 are yearly brought into our cotirts of law, seem rather 
 to increase. Adulterers are deprived of none of their 
 former privileges ; they enjoy the same honours with 
 the innocent, and instead of being viewed with that ab- 
 horrence, which their crime is calculated to excite, the 
 payment of a p.Jtry sum is supposed to have absolved
 
 IB2 
 
 ADV 
 
 7ED 
 
 them irom iiu\)li( reprobation, and the olVendcis are 
 ugaiii admiUcd iiilo the bosom of virtuous society. See 
 I'aley's Mnnt/. I'/iU. vol. i. p. 309. 13th cd. (/;) 
 
 ADVOCATE, a Pltada: In England, pleaders are 
 styled Barristers at Law. The quahiicalion for admis- 
 sion to the English bar is eating a certain number of 
 dinners, at the ronunon table of one or other of the Inns 
 of Conn in London. In Scotland, the Faculty of Advo- 
 cates enjoy the exclusive privilege of pleading before 
 (he supreme courts. Candidates for admission into 
 (his body must undergo an examination in the Latin 
 language, as to their knowledge of the Roman law, and 
 afterwards, at the distance of a year, they undergo a 
 second examination on the law of Scotland. They then 
 pjo through the form of defending a thesis in Latin. 
 Their numbers amount at present to 278. At the first 
 institution cf the College of Justice, in the year 1557 the 
 number was only ten. Till that time it was common 
 for the barons to appear in the causes of their vassals 
 and dependents. Churchmen too were frequently em- 
 ployed as advocates. In the time of Charles the Second, 
 II great majority of the Faculty of Advocates were ban- 
 ished to the distance of twelve miles from Edinburgh, 
 for asserting the right of the subject to appeal to Par- 
 liament from the decrees of the Court of Session. The 
 consequence of this tyrannical measure was, an almost 
 total surcease of justice during the year 1674. Besides 
 the exclusive privilege of pleading before civil and 
 criminal courts in Scotland, advocates have a right to 
 plead in all other courts sitting in Scotland, civil, ec- 
 clesiastical, and martial. They possess also, in common 
 with the English bar, the right of pleading before the 
 two Houses of Parliament, and the king in council. 
 From this body, the judges of the courts of Justiciai-y, 
 Session, and Exchequer, are named. The sheriffs of 
 counties must be advocates of three years' standing. («) 
 
 ADVOCATES' Library, a library belonging to the 
 Faculty of Advocates. The well-known Sir George 
 M'Kenzie founded this library ; the only public act of 
 his that was not pernicious to his country. The whole 
 collection was destroyed by (ire, in the year 1700. The 
 number of volumes is supposed now to be about 70,000, 
 and is increasing rapidly. Besides other funds, 100/. of 
 the admission-money of each new member of Faculty 
 is allocated to the purchase of books ; and by the act 
 of Parliament, establishing the copy-right of autliors, 
 the Faculty are entitled to a copy of eveiy new book 
 entered at Stationers' Hall. Besides printed books, it 
 contains a rich collection of manuscripts, relating chiefly 
 to Scottish history. It contains also a cabinet of valu- 
 able medals, or rather is sufljioscd to contain such a re- 
 pository ; for, though the books and manuscripts are 
 shown to the pulilic, and submitted to the perusal of 
 literary men with commendable liberality, the medals 
 are as completely hid from view, as if they were still in 
 their original state of mineral ore. (a) 
 
 ADVOCATE, (Lord, or King's) in Scotland, a pub- 
 lic ofhcer, who prosecutes crimes before the Court of 
 Justiciary. At the circuit courts, he acts by deputy. 
 He possesses powers more extensive than all the grand 
 juries in England; for he not only decides whether 
 parties suspected shall be prosecuted ; btit, in capital 
 crimes, can by a motion before trial, restrict the sentence 
 to what is called an arbitrarv punishment ; that is, a 
 punishment at the discretion of the judge, not extending 
 (o death, (a) 
 
 ADVOCATION, in the law of Scotland, a form of 
 
 appealing from the inferior to the supreme courts. 
 It the sum originally dcnranded by the pursuer (plaiii- 
 tiif) amounts to less than twelve pounds, the cause 
 cannot be removed from the inferior c(jurt by advocation, 
 unless on the score of the inferior judge's incompetency. 
 A bill (pelilion) of advocation may be presented at any 
 stage ot the proceedings after the cause is called in 
 court. Delay, as well as injustice or error, is a suffi- 
 cient ground of advocation, (a) 
 
 ADVOWEE, is properly the advocate of a church or 
 icligious house, wiio protects it, and manages its tem- 
 poral concerns ; though it is sometimes employed to 
 signify a person who has a right to present to a church- 
 living. The office of advowee is said to have been in- 
 troduced during the fourth century, and was often held 
 by men of the highest rank. When Charlemagne had 
 protected Italy against the Lombards, the pope con- 
 ferred upon him the title of advowee of St Peter's ; and 
 king Edward the confessor was appointed by pope 
 Nicholas, advowee of the monastery of Westminster, 
 and of all the churches'^n England. The monasteries 
 had sometimes sub-advowees, who performed the func- 
 tions of the advowees ; but these inferior officers com- 
 mitted great abuses, and contributed to the ruin of the 
 monasteries, (w) 
 
 ADVOWSON, is a term used in England, to denote 
 the right of presenting to a vacant living in the church ; 
 and is synonymous with the word patronage which is 
 used in Scotland. The bishop had originally the right 
 of nominating to all vacant benefices ; but when the 
 opulence and piety of some individuals prompted them 
 to become the founders of churches, the bishops wil- 
 lingly permitted them to appoint persons to officiate, 
 reserving to themselves the right of judging of their 
 qualifications for.the office. 
 
 An advowson is said to be presentative, when the 
 patron presents a person to the bishop to be instituted 
 in the living. It is said to be collative, when the bishop 
 presents, either as original patron, or from a right de- 
 volved upon him by the negligence of the patron in pre- 
 senting at a proper tim.e ; and it is said to be donative, 
 when the patron by a single donation in writing, puts the 
 presentee in possession, without presentation, institution, 
 or induction, (to) 
 
 ADZE, or Addice, the name of a cutting tool, witli 
 a thin arched blade, like a portion of a spherical surface, 
 and with its edge at right angles to the handle. The 
 ax is capable of cutting only in a vertical direction ; 
 but the adze may be employed either in a horizontal or 
 in a vertical direction, (w) 
 
 viiACEA, the name given to the feasts and combats 
 which were celebrated at jEgina, in honour of king 
 viLacus, who was distinguished by his justice and other 
 virtues, (to) 
 
 ^DELITE, a name applied to one of the sub- 
 species of Zeolite. See Oryctognosy. (r) 
 
 iEDILE, a Roman magistrate, to whose care were 
 intrusted the public buildings, and from which he de- 
 rived his name (o cura adinm.) At first, there were 
 only two sediles, called Mdiles filcbeii. who were created 
 A. U. 260, to act as assistants to the tribunes, and were 
 in some measure under theii- control. They were ori- 
 ginally chosen in the comii/a curiafa, at the same time 
 with the tribunes of the commons, but were afterwards 
 elected, as the other hiferior magistrates, at the comifia 
 tributa. Their office was to take care of the city, its 
 buildings, temples, aqucdticts, public roads. &c.,"espe-
 
 yEGE 
 
 iEGl 
 
 153 
 
 cially before the creation of censors, to whose office 
 this duty afterwards belonged. They superintended the 
 public markets, inspected the weights and measures, 
 and took care that every thing which was there exposed 
 to sale should be of good quality. They took cognisance 
 of all immoral practices ; and dcterniined certain lesser 
 causes, which were committed to them by the tribunes. 
 They were strictly enjoined to prevent the nUroduction 
 of any new gods or religious ceremonies ; and the de- 
 crees of the senate, and the ordinances of the people, 
 which were deposited in the temple of Ceres, were 
 intrusted to their care. Their business also, was to 
 exhibit public games at their own expense, by which 
 many of them were ruined. But we learn from Livy, 
 that, on a certain occasion, this part of their duty was 
 taken from them. After the violent animosities between 
 the patricians and plebeians had subsided, the senate 
 decreed, that the greatest games should be celebrated 
 in gratitude to the immortal gods. The xdiles refusing 
 to perform their part of the festival, the patricians de- 
 clared, that they would cheerfully do that duty, to be 
 honoured with the office of aedile. Their offer being 
 accepted, two aediles of the patrician order were imme- 
 diately created, and called, adilcs curulcs, because, when 
 administering justice, they used the sella curulis, an ho- 
 nour not permitted to the plebeian aediles. Their chief 
 employment was to exhibit the public games and shows, 
 which they sometimes did in the most magnificent and 
 expensive manner, in order to ingratiate themselves 
 with the people, and to pave the way for future prefer- 
 ment. They were appointed to review new publications ; 
 and all plays were submitted to their inspection, before 
 they were brought upon the stage. In these cases they 
 were bound by oath to give the palm to the most deserving. 
 
 To these officers Julius Caesar added two more, called 
 eedilcs cercales, chosen from tlie patrician order, whose 
 business was to inspect the public granaries. See 
 Adams's Antiq. p. 142. Livy. Dio/iysius. (fi) 
 
 jEGEA, or Edessa, now Vodena, the ancient capital 
 of Macedonia, which was the residence of Caranus, first 
 king of Macedon, and continued the burial place of the 
 Macedonian kings, till the time of Alexander the Great. 
 Caranus, by birth an Argive, emigrating from his native 
 country with a great number of Greeks, is said to have 
 been directed by an oracle, to establish his empire in the 
 place to which he should be conducted by a flock of goats. 
 On coming to Macedonia, he was overtaken by a storm, 
 and observing a number of goats running for shelter to 
 Edessa, he followed them with his men, and taking 
 the city by surprise, became master of the whole king- 
 dom. In gratitude to the oracle and his conductors, he 
 changed the name of the city into jEgea, and intro- 
 duced a goat into his standard. Hence the he-goat 
 is, in the book of Daniel, the symbol of Macedon. (/c) 
 
 jEGEAN Sea, the ancient name of the Archipelago 
 which separates Europe from Asia. Festus has men- 
 tioned three etymologies of its name. According to the 
 first, it is derived from the number of islands which are 
 scattered over its surface, appearing at a distance like a 
 herd of goats ; according to the second, from jEgea, 
 queen of the Amazons, who perished in this sea; and, 
 according to the third, from .£geus the father of The- 
 seus, who threw himself headlong into it. Other ety- 
 mologists suppose it to be derived from the Doric word 
 tiyii, luavfs, vvliich are so denominated from their re- 
 semblance to the leaping motion of goats. See ^Egeus 
 and Archipelago, (k) 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 jEGEUS, in fabulous history, was one of the Athe- 
 nian kings. After a just and successful wur against the 
 Athenians, Minos, king of Crete, imposed upon them 
 the severe condition, that they should send, every year, 
 seven of their noblest young men to be devoured by 
 the Minotaur. The choice happening to fall upon The- 
 seus, his father iEgeus gave orders that the ship should 
 have black sails ; that it should return with these em- 
 blems of sorrow if Theseus was killed ; but that if he 
 was crowned with victory, they should be changed into 
 white. Theseus had the good fortune to kill the Mino- 
 taur, but neglected to remove the black sails. His father, 
 who watched the return of the vessel, concluded that his 
 son had been slain, and immediately threw himself into 
 the jEgean sea, which is said to have derived its name 
 from this event, (w) 
 
 iEGICERAS, a genus of plants of the class Pentan- 
 dria, and order Monogynia. See Botany, (to) 
 
 jEGlLOPS, a genus of plants of the class Polygamia, 
 and order MoncEcia. See Botany, {w) 
 
 jEGINA, an island in the Saronic gulf, or bay of Engia, 
 more anciently known by the names of Qinone and 
 Qinopia. jEacus, one of its kings, gave it the name of 
 iEgsna, in honour of his mother, who being seduced, as 
 fable says, by Jupiter, in the likeness of a lambent flame, 
 was removed from Epidaurus to this desert island. It 
 lies between Attica and Argolis, 18 miles distant from 
 the coast of Athens, and about 14 from Epidaurus. It 
 is about 72i miles in circumference, rendered difficult 
 of access on every side by concealed rocks. The soil 
 of this island was very stony and barren, till, by the per- 
 severing industry of the inhabitants, (who were thence 
 called Myrmidons, or Emmets,) it was rendered ex- 
 tremely fertile. Nor was their industry exerted in agri- 
 culture alone. Their commerce was extensive, and their 
 navy so powerful, as to enable them to vie with the 
 Athenians, and to dispute with them the palm of victory 
 in the naval battle at Salamis. On that occasion, their 
 fleet was more numerous than that of any other nation in 
 Greece, excepting the Athenians ; and the prize of va- 
 lour was decreed to them, because they had fought with 
 the greatest bravery. Money is said to have been first 
 coined in jEgina ; and such was at one lime the opulence 
 of this island, that it maintained 420,000 slaves ; the 
 proportion of whom to free men in the ancient repub- 
 lics, is computed to have been about 20 to one. .lEgina 
 had a capital of the same name, which was destroyed by 
 an earthquake in the reign of Tiberius ; and two magnifi- 
 cent temples, the one consecrated to Venus, the other 
 dedicated by all the states of Greece to Jupiter, who 
 was thence called Jupiter Panhellenius. According to 
 the tradition of the vEgineans, Greece was distressed 
 during the reign of ^Eacus with a severe drought, and 
 the oracle at Delphi declared, that jEacus alone could 
 render Jupiter propitious. At the common request of 
 the states, he prayed fervently for rain ; his prayer was 
 heard, and the Greeks, to commemorate their deliver- 
 ance, erected a temple to Jupiter on the mountain, from 
 whose summit jEacus had offered up his intercession. 
 The temple was of the Doric order; and its ruins still 
 indicate its ancient magnificence. The stone is of a 
 light brownish colour, in many places much corroded, 
 and presenting a claim to remote antiquity scarcely to be 
 paralleled. Placed on a lonely nrountain, at a distance 
 from the sea, the changes and accidents of many centu- 
 ries have not been able to reduce it to total demolition. 
 
 The jEgineans were originally subject to kings, but 
 U
 
 154 
 
 Mrs 
 
 MMl 
 
 afterwards adopted the rcpulilican form of government. 
 All irrcconcileable enmity subsisted between tliem and 
 the Athenians, which gave rise to frequent wars. On 
 one occasion, tlie Athenians having subdued tlicm, cut 
 ofl" their thuniljs to disable them from maritime service. 
 In revenge for this cruel treatment, they joined the Co- 
 rinthians in instigating the Lacedemonians to tlie Pelo- 
 ponnesian war. At length, the Athenians having de- 
 feated them in a great naval battle, landed on ^gina, 
 expelled the inhabitants, and re-peopled the island witli 
 a colony from Athens. When the Athenians were in 
 their turn subdued by the Lacedemonians, the jEgineans 
 were replaced in their native coimtry, and soon recover- 
 ed their former power. ^Egina was subdued by the 
 Turks in 1536; its capital plundered and burnt; and 
 its inhabitants, who survived the prodigious carnage, 
 Avere reduced to slavery. Its revenue is at present 
 farmed from the grand signior, by a waiwode or gover- 
 nor, for 12 purses, or 6000 piastres. The most remark- 
 able circumstance related concerning jEgina by modern 
 travellers is,' that it swarms with partridges to such a 
 degree, that the inhabitants, apprehensive of famine 
 from tlieir increase, go out every year to destroy their 
 eggs. The town, now called Engia, has a castle which 
 contains about 800 troops. Instead of the magnificent 
 temples of Venus and Jupiter, there are now 13 churches 
 of mean structure ; the architrave of each being sup- 
 ported by two Doric columns. The ruins of a magni- 
 ficent theatre are still to he seen; and the walls, which 
 belonged to the ports and arsenal, may be traced to a 
 considerable extent above the water, or nearly even 
 with its surface. (/() 
 
 iEGINETI A, a genus of plants belonging to the class 
 Didynamia, and order Angiosperniia. See Botany, (w) 
 
 jEGIPHILA, a genus of plants belonging to the class 
 Tetrandria, and order Monogynia. See Botany, (w) 
 
 jEGIS, from a/| ac/o;, a she-goat; the name given 
 to the shield of Jupiter and Minerva. Upon the death 
 of the goat Amalthea, which had suckled Jupiter, he 
 covered his shield with its skin, and presented it to Mi- 
 nerva. See .£n<irf. lib. viii. v. 435. (w) 
 
 ./EGOMANTIA, the prediction of future events by 
 means of a goat, (w) 
 
 jEGOPOblUM, a genus of plants of the class Pen- 
 tandria, and order Digynia. See Botany, (to) 
 
 jEGOPRICON, a genus of plants of the class Mono2- 
 cia, and order Monandria. See Botany, (to) 
 
 iEGOSPOTAMOS, a small stream in the Thracian 
 Chcrsonesus, falling with a south-east course into the 
 Hellespont, to the north of Sestos. At the mouth of this 
 river there was a town of the same name, and a road for 
 ships, famous in history for the victory gained by Ly- 
 sander, the Lacedemonian, over the Athenians com- 
 manded by Conon. For the particulars of this victory, 
 which was soon followed by the capture of Athens, 
 which put an end to the Peloponnesian war, and com- 
 pletely destroyed the maritime power of the Athenians, 
 we must refer our readers to RoUin's Jnt. Hist. vol. iii. 
 p. 284, 288. 8vo. See Mela, ii. c. 2 ; Pausanias, iii. c. 
 8. 1 1; and Pliny, ii. c. 58. (X) 
 
 ^GYPT. See Egypt. 
 
 jEGYPTUS, the ancient name of the Nile. See 
 Bi ucc's Travels, vol. iii. p. 65 ; and Plutarch, torn. ii. 
 p. 1157. (w) 
 
 jEINAUTjE, from mi, alwavs, and vavlai, 7)wrincrs, a 
 name given to the senators of Miletus, who held their 
 deliberations on board of a ship at a distance from tlie 
 
 shore, f.nd never left the ship till they had come to some 
 fixed resolution. Sec Plutarch, In Quml, Hoin. (•ur) 
 
 TliLIA Capitolina, a name given by the emperor 
 Adrian to the city wliich he built near the site of ancient 
 Jerusalem. On liis visit to the eastern parts of his em- 
 pire, he found this city in rums. Here lie established a 
 Roman colony ; and, in place of the Jewish temple, dedi- 
 cated a temple to Jupiter Capilolinus. This profana- 
 tion of the holy place roused the Jews to frequent re- 
 bellions, which involved them in more aggravated cala- 
 mities. They once more took and burnt the city ; but 
 it was rebuilt by Adrian, who re-established the colony, 
 and ordered a marble statue of a hog, to the Jews an ob- 
 ject of the utmost abhorrence, to be set up over the 
 gate which opened towards Bethlehem ; and published 
 an edict, prohibiting the Jews, on pain of death, from 
 entering the city, or even looking towards it at a dis- 
 tance. This edict continued long in force ; and thai 
 unhappy people seem to have made no effort to regain 
 their capital till the time of Constantine, when they 
 again rose in rebellion. The emperor easily quelled the 
 insurrection; and with a cruelty disgraceful to his cha- 
 racter, ordered their ears to be cutoff; and, branding 
 their bodies with red hot iron, dispersed them, as fugi- 
 tives and slaves, over all the provinces of the empire. (X) 
 
 jELIAN Claudius, who was born at Praeneste, in 
 Italy, and lived in the time of Adrian, was much ad- 
 mired for his learning, wisdom, and eloquence. Though 
 himself a Roman, he decidedly preferred the Greek ta 
 the Roman authors, and was able both to write and 
 speak, with the greatest readiness, in the Greek lan- 
 guage. Greek composition was his darling study; 
 Plato, Aristotle, Isocrates, Homer, Anacreon, Sec. were 
 his constant companions. He read their works with 
 avidity, and a congenial enthusiasm. His style was so 
 reinarkably sweet, that he w as surnamed MsAiy/arro?, or 
 Honey-tongue. Vossius imagines, that Martial alludes 
 to this circumstance in these well known lines : 
 
 O jucunda, Covine, solitude, 
 
 Can'uca magis, essedoqiie gratum, 
 
 Facundi mihi munus .Eliani. — Lib. xii. Ep. 24. 
 
 But Perizonius has shown, that the poet here alludes to 
 a different .£lian, whose works have not reached our 
 times. The most celebrated of .filian's works are, his 
 Varix Historic, his seventeen books De A^atura .^nima- 
 liiim, and his Tactica. All these treatises were written 
 in Greek, and are still extant. He died A. D. 140, in 
 the 60th year of his age. (») 
 
 jELURUS, the name given by the Egyptians to the 
 god of cats. This deity was sometimes represented in 
 the form of a cat, and sometimes with the head of that 
 animal united to the body of a man. See Egypt, {na^ 
 
 ^MILIUS Paulus, born in 224 A. C. was an emi- 
 nent Roman, son of Lucius Paulus, who fell at the battle 
 of Cannse. He had the honour of being twice elected 
 consul. Under his first consulship, he triumphed over 
 the Ligurians; and in his second, he vanquished Perses, 
 king of Macedonia, and made that country a Roman 
 province. He was therefore surnamed Macedoniczis. 
 After highly distinguishing himself, both by his courage 
 and abilities, he died about 160 years before Christ 
 See Plutarch, In JEmil. Paul, and Aikin's General Bio- 
 graphy, {n) 
 
 ^MILIUS, Paulus, a native of Verona, and a much 
 admired historian. So splendid was his fame, that 
 •Stephen Poncher, bishop of Paris, advised king Louis
 
 JENE 
 
 MKE 
 
 155 
 
 XII. to request lum to write, in Latin, the liistory of the 
 kings of Kiancc. His consent being obtained, he was 
 invited to Paris, and presented tliere to a canonry in the 
 cathedral. He afterwards withdrew to tlio college of 
 Navarre, in order to execute this projected work, and 
 devoted to it almost thirty years. He died at Paris on 
 Uie Sill May, 1529, and was buried in the cathedral. 
 
 (") 
 
 ^NARIA. See Ischia. 
 
 AINEAS, a Trojan prince, was the son of Anchises 
 and Venus. He claimed his descent from Tros, tlie 
 tliird king of Troy, from whom the city and people re- 
 ceived their name. During the Trojan war, jEncas and 
 Antenor were the only two who were inclined to peace ; 
 and insisted, that Helen should be given up. For this, 
 they have been unjustly suspected of having betrayed 
 the Trojan cause. When Troy was taken by the Greeks, 
 iEneas, with a few friends, valiantly opposed them in the 
 streets ; but finding himself unal)le to withstand their 
 number, he made his escape amidst the flames, carry- 
 ing his father Anchises upon his shoulders, and leading 
 the young Ascanius by the hand. In his flight, he lost 
 his wife Creusa, who, lingering behind, and having mis- 
 sed her way, was probably slain in the genei^al massacre. 
 iEncas, having collected such of his countrymen as had 
 escaped the fury of the enemy, retired to Mount Ida. 
 There, having built a fleet, he embarked his family and 
 household gods, and set sail in search of new settlements. 
 After having encountered various dangers, both by sea 
 and land, and having lost his father in the island of Sici- 
 ly, he was driven by stress of weather upon the coast of 
 Africa. Here, according to Virgil, jEneas was hospita- 
 bly received by Queen Dido, who, falling violently in 
 love with him, ofl'ered to share with him the govern- 
 ment of Carthage. But as historians place the build- 
 ing of Carthage three centuries later than the destruc- 
 tion of Troy, this anachronism must be considered mere- 
 ly as an embellishment of the poet. Leaving Africa, 
 he landed in Italy, and married Lavinia, the daughter ot 
 Latinus, king of the Aborigines. He then built the city 
 Lavinium, near the place where he had landed, inten- 
 ding to settle in it with his countrymen. But Turnus, 
 king of tlie Rutuli, to whom Lavinia had formerly been 
 betrothed, enraged, that a stranger should be preferred 
 before him, made war upon Latinus and jEneas. A bat- 
 tle was fought, in which Latinus was slain, and the army 
 of Turnus completely routed. Upon this, jEncas suc- 
 ceeded to the throne of Latium ; and the better to secure 
 the afiections of his new subjects, united both nations 
 under the name of Latins. About four years after tlie 
 death of Latinus, jEncas was slain in battle, fighting 
 against Mezentius, king of the Tuscans. After his 
 death, he was invoked by the name of Jupiter Indigcs ; 
 and from him the Romans pretended to derive their ori- 
 gin. The traT^ls and misfortunes of this prince form 
 the subject of Virgil's beautiful poem, which, from his 
 name, is called the ^neid. See Diony.nus Hat. i. cap. 
 11. Livy i. fap. 1. Plut. in Roniut. Strabo, xiii. 
 Florus, i. cap. 1. Justin, lib. xx. cap. 1. ; lib. xxxi. cap. 
 8. Dictvs Crft. V. (/;) 
 
 iENE ATORES, from eenetis, brazen ; a general name 
 given to the musicians in the Roman armies, who play- 
 ed upon the tiibif, the corniw, the buccin£, and the littii, 
 instruments which were made of brass. These musi- 
 cians were also distinguished by the particular name of 
 tubirinm^ cornicines, biiccinatores, &c. (w) 
 
 JE.NE1D, the title of a celebrated epic poem, in twelve 
 
 books, written by Publius Virgilius Maro, the most es- 
 teemed of all the Roman poets. The subject of this 
 poem is, the establishment of jEneas and his Trojan fol- 
 lowers in the kingdom of Latium, in Italy ; winch was, 
 of all subjects, tlic best adapted to interest the Roman 
 people, as it narrates the foundation of the Roman em- 
 pire. The action of the iEneid is, on the whole ex- 
 tremely well managed, and sustains a lively interest in 
 the reader; but the first six books, wiiich relate the 
 travels and love adventures of jEneas, are much more 
 interesting than the remaining books, wliich give an ac- 
 count of his warfare with the Italian pruiccs. It is 
 plain that the Odyssey of Homer afforded the prototype 
 of thp first part of Virgil's poem, as the Iliad aio ol the 
 last ; and it is generally acknowledged, that he had as 
 much exceeded the former, as he has fallen short of ilic 
 latter. It is believed, however, that the last six books 
 never received the finishing polish of the author ; and it 
 is added, that he was so conscious of their imperfec- 
 tions, as to leave a dying request, that the whole might 
 be committed to the flames. If this be the case, we 
 have reason to rejoice, that the partiality of friends pre- 
 vented the execution oi so severe a sentence. 
 
 The great defect of the jEneid is alleged to be the 
 want of a just discrimination of character ; and, doubt- 
 less, in this principal requisite of the epic muse, Virgil 
 is left at a mighty distance by Homer. Yet he seems 
 by no means so deficient as has been sometimes asser- 
 ted. Among the Trojans, indeed, there is scarcely a 
 single character that is marked, not even excepting the 
 /lious jEneas himself ; and as for the faithful Achates, 
 the bra-ve Gyas, and the brave Cloanthes, they are mere 
 names and epithets inserted to fill a vacant space. But the 
 character of the lovesick and high-minded Dido, is ex- 
 quisitely drawn, and admirably supported ; and the pic- 
 tures of Nisus and Euryalus, Pallas and Evander, 
 Lausus and Mezentius, are in the highest degree in- 
 teresting. 
 
 In respect of sentiment and style, Virgil stands, per- 
 haps, without a rival. There is nothing gross or low 
 throughout the whole poem ; we every where discover 
 a rich imagination, a correct taste, and an amiable heart. 
 The versification is melody itself; and the selection of 
 words such as cannot be excelled. It has been said, 
 that it were as easy to rob Hercules of his club, as to 
 deprive Homer of a single line ; but we are doubtful 
 whether this assertion be not more applicable to the 
 Roman than the Grecian bard. Some of the Latin cri- 
 tics indeed have accused Virgil of numerous plagiarisms 
 of whole phrases and lines, not only from the old poets 
 Ennius, Pacuvius, Accius, and Servius, but even from 
 his own illustrious contemporaries Lucretius, Catullus, 
 Varius, and Furius ; and Macrobius speaks of it, as a. 
 thing well known to the world, that the second book of 
 the jEneid, containing the so universally admired des- 
 cription of the sacking of Troy, is copied, pnie ad ver- 
 6um, from a Greek poet named Pisander, who had writ- 
 ten a collection of mythological histories in verse. Wc 
 are not disposed to give much credit to these imputa- 
 tions, so dishonourable to the genius of Virgil, and which 
 seem advanced on very frivolous grounds in those cases 
 where we have it in our power to judge of their vali- 
 dity ; as in the examples of Lucretius and Catullus, 
 whose works are still in our hands. That Virgil bor- 
 rowed from some of the older poets, he does not himself 
 deny ; but it was that kind of borrowing which so great- 
 ly enhances the value of the orignal, Uiat it confers ra- 
 V 2
 
 156 
 
 ^OL 
 
 JEOL 
 
 ther than receives an obligation. It was in this way, that, 
 as he expresses it himself, " he extracted gold iVoin the 
 dvnighill of Eiinius." Sec La Harpe's Lycee. Blair's 
 Lectures. Karnes's Criticism, Sec. (?n) 
 
 ^ENIGMA. See Enigma. 
 
 .fiOLIAN Harp, Lyre, or Anemochord, a musical 
 instrument, first described by Kircher, which produces 
 the most delicate and enchanting tones merely by the 
 impulse of the wind. It is composed of a rectangular 
 box, made of very thin deal, of the same width as the win- 
 dow in which it is to be placed, and about fiye inches 
 deep and six inches wide. Over the upper surface of 
 this box, which is pierced with sounding holes, like the 
 sounding-board of a fiddle, are stretched several catgut 
 or wire strings, with a slight degree of tension. When 
 these strings are in unison, and the instrument exposed 
 in the window to the action of a gentle breeze, they will 
 emit the most agreeable combination of wild and melt- 
 ing sounds, changing from one harmonic of the string 
 to another according to the varying impulse of the wind, 
 and its unequal action on the difl'ernt parts of the vibra- 
 ting string. 
 
 In tlie jEolian harp constructed by the Rev. W. Jones, 
 the strings, instead of being on the outside, are fasten- 
 ed to a sounding-board within a wooden case, and the 
 wind is conveyed to the strings through a horizontal 
 aperture. The instrument may then be used even in 
 the open air. 
 
 The effect of the _Eolian harp, we imagine, would be 
 much increased by admitting the air through a horizon- 
 tal aperture, whose vertical section is similar to that of 
 the hearing or speaking trumpets, in Plate II. Fig. 12; 
 and by placing the strings in different planes, or at dif- 
 ferent distances from the axis of the aperture. 
 
 The following ingenious theory of the jEolian lyre 
 has been given by Dr Matthew Young, in his Inquiry 
 into the firincifial Phenomena of Sound and Musical 
 Strinffs, London, 1784 ; and as it is the only satisfactory 
 explanation which has been given of the phenomena of 
 that instrument, we make no apology for presenting it 
 nearly in his own words. 
 
 " To remove all uncertainty in the order of tlie notes 
 in the lyre, I took off all the strings but one ; and, on 
 placing the instrument in a due position, was surprised 
 to hear a great variety of notes, and frequently such as 
 were not produced by any aliquot part of the string ; of- 
 ten too, I heard a chord of two or three notes from this 
 single string. From observing these phenomena, they 
 appeared tome so very complex and extraordinary, that 
 I despaired of being able to account for them on the prin- 
 ciple of aliquot parts. However, on a more minute in- 
 quiry, they all appeared to flow from it naturally, and 
 with ease. 
 
 But before we proceed to examine the phenomena, 
 let us consider what will be the effect of a current of 
 air rushing against a stretched elastic fibre. The par- 
 
 ticles which strike against the middle point of the string, 
 will move the whole string froni its rectilineal position ; 
 and as no blast continues exactly of the same strength 
 for any considerable time, although it be able to remove 
 the string from its rectilineal position, yet, unless it be 
 too rapid and violent, it will not be able to keep it bent; 
 the fibre will therefore, by its elasticity, return to its 
 former ,,osition, and by its acquired velocity pass it on 
 the other side, and so continue to vibrate and excite 
 pulses in the air, which will produce the tone of the en- 
 tire string. But if the current of air be too strong and 
 rapid, wiien the string is bent from the rectilineal posi- 
 tion, it will not be able to recover it, but will contmuc 
 bent and bellying, like the cordage of a ship in a brisk 
 gale. However, though the whole struig cannot perform 
 its vibrations, the subordinate aliquot parts may, wliich 
 will be of different lengths in different cases, according 
 to the rapidity of the blast. Thus, when the velocity of 
 the current of air increases so as to prevent the vibra- 
 tion of the whole string, those particles which strike 
 against the middle points of the halves of the string, 
 agitate those halves, as in the case of sympathetic and 
 secondary tones ; and as these halves vibrate in half the 
 time of the whole string, though the blast may be too 
 rapid to admit of the vibration of the whole, yet it can 
 have no more effect in preventing the motion of the 
 halves, than it would have on the whole string were its 
 tension quadruple ; for the times of vibrations in strings 
 of different lengths, and agreeing in other circumstances, 
 are directly as the lengths ; and in strings differing in 
 tension, and agreeing in other circumstances, inversely 
 as the square roots of the tensions ; (See Acoustics, p. 
 190. col. 1.) and therefore their vibrations may become 
 strong enough to excite such pulses as will affect the 
 drum of the ear ; and the like may be said of other ali- 
 quot divisions of the string. In the same manner as 
 standing corn is bent by a blast of wind, and if the wind 
 be sufficiently rapid, it will have repeated its blast before 
 the stem of corn can recover its pependicular position, 
 and therefore will keep it bent : but if it decays in ra- 
 pidity or strength, the stem of corn will have time to 
 perform, a vibration before it is again impelled ; and 
 thus it will appear to wave backwards and forwards by 
 the impulse of the wind. Those particles, which strike 
 against such points of the string as are not in the middle 
 of aliquot parts, will interrupt and counteract each other's 
 vibrations, as in the case of sympathetic and secondaiy 
 tones, and therefore will not produce a sensible effect. 
 That we may be more fully persuaded of the truth of 
 these principles, I shall here set down the order of the 
 jEolian notes, as accurately as a good ear could dis- 
 cover. 
 
 Oisenation 1 . The original note of the string being 
 the grave fifteenth to low F on the violin, die .lEolian notes, 
 as given in the annexed note,* were distmctly perceived, 
 and nearly in the same order in which they are set down. 
 
 • The eiiEfraved table of notes consists of three sets of lines, with the cliff G on the second line from the bottom, as usual. In tliese 
 the notes are written, and above each note the fraction which expresses the division of the string. As all these fractions have I for 
 lUeir numerator, 1 shall here give the letters expressing the notes, and the denominator, or number denoting the subdivision : — Middle 
 C 6; — lowerF 4; — mid.Ao; — upper E, fiat, 7, nearly ; — mid. C 6; — mid. A 5; — up. D 7, nearly; — up F 8; — up. D 7, nearly; — mid. 
 (^6;— mid. A 5 ;— up. D 7, nearly ;— up- K 8;— up. F 8, with up. D 7, nearly ;— rnid.C 6;— up. 1)7, nearly;— up. E flat, 7 nearly ;— up. 
 E 7, nearly ;— up. F 8;— up. A 10;— up. G 9 ;— up. F 8 ;- mid. C 6, with up E, flat, 7, nearly ;— mid. C 6 ;'— low. F 4, with mid. "A 5 ;— 
 mid. A 5 ; — u[). E flat, 7, nearly ;— mid. A 5 ;— up E. flat, 7, nearly ; — mid. C 6 ;— up F 8 ;— up. G 9 ;— up. !■' 8 ; — ui>. E sliding to up. E, 
 Hat, 7, nearly, and to up. D ;— mid. C 6 ;— up. F 8 ;— up. E, flat, 7, with mid. C 6 ;— mid. C 6 ;— up. E, flat, 7, nearly ;— mid' A 5, with 
 mid. C 6, and up. E, flat, 7, nearly ;— up. E, flat, 7, with up. F 8 ;— up. F 8 ;— up. B 11, ne.ir!y ;— up. A 10 ;— up. F 8, with up. G 9 ;— 
 up. E, flat, sliding to up. D ;— up C 6 ;— up. D 7. Nvith up. F 8, &c. 8;ct
 
 JEOL 
 
 JEOL 
 
 157 
 
 From the table of proportions in Smith's Harmonics, 
 p. 10, we may see, that these notes were produced by- 
 such aliquot parts of the string as are denoted by the 
 fractional indexes, wliich are written over them, agree- 
 ably to the theory laid down. 
 
 06s. 2. While some of these notes were sounding, 
 I applied an obstacle indifferently to any point, which 
 divided the string into such aliquot parts as would pro- 
 duce these notes, and the TEolian note was not interrupt- 
 ed ; but if I placed it in any other part, the tone was 
 instantly extinguished. This evidently shows, that the 
 entire string is, in fact, resolved into sucii parts, as, from 
 the preceding chain of reasoning, we should have been 
 induced to prescribe tor it. 
 
 Obs. 3. I appplied an obstacle slightly against the 
 string, so as that its distance from the extremity should 
 be an aliquot part of the whole ; and the iEolian note 
 was that which would be produced by such an aliquot 
 part ; thus we may, in general, predetermine what note 
 the harp shall sound. But this effect will not invariably 
 take place ; because, though the obstacle may determine 
 the string to resolve itself into such aliquot parts rather 
 than any others, yet the blast may be too strong or too 
 weak to admit of such a part vibrating with suflhcicnt 
 strength to produce a sound ; however, if any note be 
 produced in this case, it must either be that of this very 
 aliquot part, or of some of its aliquot divisions ; for the 
 obstacle must necessarily determine one of the intersec- 
 tions of the equal indentures. 
 
 Obs. 4. When the blast rises or falls, we find the 
 tone also gradually rise or fall ; because, as the blast ri- 
 ses, it grows too strong to admit of the vibrations of the 
 longer aliquot parts ; tlie vibrations of the short aliquot 
 parts therefore will predominate, and will gradually 
 shorten, as the blast rises in strength. But, in cases of 
 sudden variations in the strengtli of the blast, there will 
 be also sudden transitions in the tones. 
 
 Obs. 5. We sometimes hear a chord consisting of 
 two or three jEolian notes ; because, the blast, which is 
 of such a degree of strength as to admit of the vibrations 
 of certain aliquot parts, may also admit of the vibrations 
 of other parts, if they be not very different in length; 
 for their vibrations will be performed in times not very 
 different. But if the lengdi of these parts, and conse- 
 quently their times of vibration, be very different, the 
 blast that admits of the vibration of the one will prevent 
 that of the other. Accordingly, in looking over the fore- 
 going note, we find, that the chords consist of those notes 
 which -are produced by such different aliquot parts as 
 are least unequal : thus, one chord consists of C and 
 E, which notes arc produced by one-sixth and one-se- 
 venth of the string. Another chord consists of F and A, 
 which are produced by one-fourth and one-fifth of the 
 string. Another consists of A, C, and E, which notes are 
 produced by one-fifth, one-sixth, and one-seventh parts 
 of the string. 
 
 It is also worthy of observation, that, in long strings, 
 we never hear the original note and its octave at the 
 same time ; because, though they are the next aliquot 
 parts, yet their difference is so great, that the blast 
 which admits of the vibration of one of them will ob- 
 struct and prevent the other. It is only in the higher 
 divisions of the string that the chords are heard at all ; 
 and the slacker the note, the more frequent are the 
 chords, for the reasons assigned above ; namely, because 
 
 the different aliquot parts, in such cases approach near- 
 er to equality. 
 
 Obs. 6. jEolian tones arc often heard, which are not 
 produced by any exact sub-multiple of the string ; but 
 such notes are very transitory, and immediately vary 
 their pitch, gradually falling or rising to the notes next 
 below or above them, which arc produced by exact ali- 
 quot parts of the whole string. This arises from the 
 transition of the divisions of the siring from one number 
 to another; for, during this transition, the parts of the 
 string, whose vibrations produce the note, are gradually 
 lengthening or shortening. Tims, suppose the iEolian 
 tone was produced by one-third of a string, and that the 
 breeze so varies as to cause this tone to fall into the oc- 
 tave of the original note, the points of quiescence will 
 gradually run along the strings, and by so doing will 
 produce a tone gradually flattening, until it terminates 
 in the octave to the whole string. 
 
 Discords are also often heard from the unison strings 
 of this instrument : the cause of this is also evident from 
 the manner in which the notes are generated ; for thi 
 aliquot parts of a string contain in themselves an infi- 
 nite variety of discords." 
 
 A very simple iEolian harp has been recently invent- 
 ed by Mr Crosthwaite. It has no sounding-box, but 
 consists merely of a number of strings, extended be- 
 tween two thin deal-boards. 
 
 See Kircher's Plionurgia, p. 140, 1673 ; and his Mu- 
 surgia, lib. ix. Gilbert's Journal der Physik, vol. xv. p. 
 505. T. Young's JVat. Phil. vol. i. p. 385, 399. And 
 Nicholson's yowfvm/, 4to, vol. ii. p. 12, note ; and vol. iii. 
 p. 310, which contains an extract from Dr M. Young's 
 Incjuiry Sec. (^r) 
 
 iEOLIAN Islands, are seven islands, situated be- 
 tween Italy and Sicily, now called the Lifiari Islands. 
 See Justin. \\h. iv. cap. 1. See jEolus and Lipari. (-7^) 
 
 jEOLIC Dialect, one of the five dialects of the 
 Greek language, very much resembling the Doric. It 
 was first used in Boeotia from which it was introduced 
 into .^.olia. (-lu) 
 
 jEOLIPILE, from Moli and jiila, the ball of jEoIus, is 
 a hydraulic vessel, composed of a hollow ball and a cy- 
 lindrical pipe. When the ball is filled with water and 
 the pipe screwed into it, the vessel is placed upon the 
 fire, and as soon as the water is converted into steam, 
 the steam rushes out at intervals with great violence and 
 noise. The aeolipile was known to the ancients, and has 
 been employed for several purposes by the moderns ; 
 but it has now been superseded by more accurate and 
 useful instruments. See Viti-uviu-i., lib. i. cap. 6. Des- 
 cartes' Meteorology, cap. 1. ; and Leopold's Theatrum Ma- 
 chinarum, iii. ; Langsdorf's Hydraul. Plate XXII. which 
 contains an engraving of Kempel's rotatory aeolipile. [nu) 
 
 iEOLIS, in ancient geography, a countrv in Asia Mi- 
 nor, formerly inhabited by a Grecian colony, who emi- 
 grated from their native country about 1 124 years before 
 Christ. According to Ptolemy, who is followed by 
 D'Anville, it lay between Caycus and Hcnnus. It now 
 forms a part of Anatolia. 
 
 The history of the jEolians is not pregnant with any 
 events of interest or huportancc. Unable to maintain 
 their own independence, they gradually sunk into the 
 arms of Asiatic indolence, and were obliged to submit 
 themselves to the sway of the different conquerors, by 
 whom that part of the world was successively enslaved.
 
 158 
 
 AER 
 
 AER 
 
 See St7-a bo, torn. ii. p. 872. Herodotua, Vib. i. cap. 26. 
 and ii. ; Uiodorus Siculun, lib. ii. and xiv. ; Mela, i. cap. 
 2. ; Plhiij, V. cap. .'30. Qiv) 
 
 jEOLUS, king of tiic jiiolian islands, was the son of 
 Hippotos. Happcnnig to land at Lipara, he was kindly 
 received by king Liparus, who gave him his daughter 
 Cyane in marriage. After Liparus' death, he succeed- 
 ed to the throne, and gave his name to the country. 
 But these islands have in modern times resumed their 
 original name, and arc now called the Lifiari Inks. 
 jEoIus was a good and wise prince, and from his having 
 invented the use of sails, from his skill in astronomy, 
 and in prognosticating the weather, he was denomina- 
 ted, in heathen mythology, the god of the winds. Vir- 
 gil represents him as having dominion over the stonns, 
 and confining them in a capacious cave. He was wor- 
 shipped as a god by the Romans, and was said to hare 
 been the son of Jupiter and Acesta. (/;) 
 
 jEON, a word employed by the Platonists to denote 
 any perfection, virtue, or attribute, and hence they repre- 
 sented the Deity as an assemblage of all posible aeons. 
 This term was afterwards applied to the Supreme Be- 
 ing himself, and also to the angels. The aeons seem to 
 have been borrowed from the eastern philosophy, which 
 was partly adopted by the Gnostics and Valentinians, who 
 corrupted the purity of the Christian faith by the base 
 mixture of a wild philosophy, (tu) 
 
 jERA, a fixed point of time, distinguished by some re- 
 markable event, to which both preceding and future 
 events are referred. See Chronology, (to) 
 
 AERIAL Perspective, the relative colours of visible 
 objects, as modified by distance, by accidental varieties 
 of light, and by the intervention of atmosphere. This 
 term is, however, more generally employed, to signify 
 the art of imitating these colours in painting. The laws 
 by which this art is regulated, by no means admit of 
 that precision which accompanies those of lineal per- 
 spective. In the latter of these, which has for its object 
 to determine the apparent form, place, and bulk, of the 
 various parts of his scene, the artist avails himself of in- 
 variable principles, which admit of mathematical demon- 
 stration ; in the practice of the former, he must rely al- 
 most entirely on the delicate and cultivated accuracy of 
 his immediate perceptions. How very far these percep- 
 tions are wide of the truth, till corrected by the closest 
 attention, and by long practice, every artist who has studi- 
 ed to detect the real appearances of nature, will readily 
 admit. Habituated from our earliest years to correct 
 the information of the senses by the knowledge we have 
 previously acquired, it becomes afterwards a difficult ex- 
 ertion to give, even for a moment, our undivided atten- 
 tion to the real sensation communicated by the exter- 
 nal organ, and to prevent that sensation from being mo- 
 dified by the insensible, and almost mechanical sugges- 
 tions of the judgment. It is by means of this habitual 
 process in the economy of our perceptions, that we 
 ascribe the same colour and the same dimensions to any 
 known object, although seen at very different distances; 
 a process which, though absolutely essential to the truth 
 and consistency of our judgments, it is the business of 
 the artjst to counteract and suspend at will. It is by 
 
 this acquired faculty that he is enabled to look at nature 
 under that aspect which his art demands, and to mark, 
 without any sensible exertion, those delicate and evane- 
 scent varieties of form and colour, which escape the or- 
 dinary observer. 
 
 It is the most obvious and general fact in aerial per- 
 spective, that objects assume a fainter tone of colour, 
 the farther they arc removed from the eye of the spec- 
 tator. This fact is founded on the imperfect transpa- 
 rency of the atmosphere, and on the divergency of the 
 rays of light reflected from objects of an unpolished sur- 
 face. Among olijecis of this description, we find that 
 the strong opposition of light and shadow which they 
 exhibit when near the eye, is gradually reduced nearer 
 to equality as we recede from them. The shady side 
 becomes lighter; the illuminated part of it becomes less 
 brilliant. In the case of flat polished surfaces, such as 
 that of still walei', which reflect the sun's rays without 
 any sensible divergency, we find that the light loses lit- 
 tle of its force and brilliancy by distance, except when 
 diminished by the imperfect transparency of the me- 
 dium through which it is transmitted. But as to all the 
 nicer distinctions exhibited in the aerial perspective of 
 nature, it is impossible to lay down any rule which ad- 
 mits of general application. Not only the infinite variety 
 of the local colours of objects themselves, but every ac- 
 cidental distribution of light', every transient change in 
 the state of the air, creates new appearances, and forms 
 new relations in the apparent colouring of the different 
 parts of the scene. In some of the most sublime effects 
 observable in nature, we occasionally find the middle 
 ground of a lighter hue than the distance. In order to 
 assist the exertions of the eye, on which the artist, in co- 
 pying nature, must ultimately depend, it may be recom- 
 mended as an useful practice, to hold up against any ob- 
 ject another resembling it in real colour, and thus, by 
 comparing them together, we shall the more readily dis- 
 cover the change produced, even by the distance of a 
 few yards. ((■) 
 
 AERIAL Acid, a name given by Bergman to carbo- 
 nic acid gas. (w) 
 
 AERIANS, in ecclesiastical history, a species of 
 Arians, who took their name from Aerius, an Armenian 
 priest of the fourth centur)'. Besides adopting the pe- 
 culiarities of Arianism, they also held other opinions, 
 which they thought of great importance to the interests 
 of pure Christianity. They had the misfortune to dis- 
 approve of prayers and offerings for the dead ; to repro- 
 bate the celebration of Easter, and other rites of the same 
 nature. They zealously maintained too, that there was 
 no scriptural distinction between bishops and presbyters ; 
 and that all ministers of the gospel should be equal in 
 rank and power. This, of course, mightily provoked 
 the hierarchy of the day ; and the poor Aerians soon fell 
 easy victims to mitred bigotry, {n) 
 
 AERIFORM Fluids, a name given to the different 
 gases. See Chemistry, (to) 
 
 AEROLITHS, from axf , the air, and AiSos, a stone, a 
 name recently and very improperly given to the mine- 
 ral substances which have fallen from the atmosphere. 
 See Meteoric Stones, (w)
 
 159 
 
 AERONAUTICS. 
 
 Aeronautics, from «?f , the air, and vat/Tixi), the ar/ of 
 navigaii'jn, is the bciciicu of navigaliiiij the uir by moans 
 ©1 balloons. 
 
 This science, however extravagant it might at lirst 
 appear us an object either of philosophical speculation 
 or probable success, has been prosecuted vyith increasing 
 interest and attention tor a considerable period of time. 
 While the ait of traversing the air was unknown, man- 
 kind, guided by those superstitious notions which ac- 
 company the infancy of knowledge, regarded it as the 
 exclusive privilege of those supernatural agents, who 
 by their power over the elements, were permitted to 
 penetrate uito regions, which nature had prohibited to 
 man. But though such opinions prevailed from periods 
 of the remotest antiquity, they began, even during the 
 darker ages, to yield to more rational conceptions. Ro- 
 ger Bacon was among the first philosophers who sug- 
 gested the possibility of traversing the air by means of 
 mechanical contrivances: He mentions a machine for 
 flying, as in his time certainly known, "not that he him- 
 self had seen it, or was acquainted with any person who 
 had done so, but he knew an ingenious person who had 
 contrived one." It is evident, hov/ever, that he alludes 
 to some method of putting artificial wings in motion. 
 In later times, John W^ilkins, bishop of Chester, an in- 
 genious mechanic, who died in 1672, published a trea- 
 tise Concerning a jVenu WorW, in which he maintains the 
 possibility of reaching the moon, provided he could be 
 conveyed beyond the earth's attraction. He supposes 
 the different strata of the atmosphere to be of different 
 densities; and concludes, that a vessel filled with lighter 
 air, will float on heavier air, just as a ship is buoyed up 
 by the water. In the same work he asserts, that a fly- 
 ing chariot might be constructed on mechanical princi- 
 ples; and in his Mathematical JSIagic, wliich was a sub- 
 sequent publication, after specifying various artificial 
 methods of flying, he gives the preference to the flying 
 chariot, on account both of its superior utility, and the 
 greater probability of its success. 
 
 Nearly about the same period, Francis Lana, a Jesuit, 
 suggested a method of traversing the air, founded on the 
 same principles as those which are at present adopted. 
 He proposed to provide four hollow spheres of copper, 
 each 20 feet in diameter, and so thin, that on exhausting 
 the included air, they would float in the atmosphere, and 
 be capable of supporting a vessel or any other load. 
 This plan, though founded on strict philosophical prin- 
 ciples, was abandoned on account of its practical defects : 
 Not only was Lana's method of procuring a vacuum im- 
 perfect, but the thickness of the metal being necessarily 
 reduced to ^ of aline, it was found insuflicient to resist 
 the external pressure of the surrounding air. This con- 
 trivance is described in a work, intitled, Prodronw a'e/l' 
 Arte Maestra Brescia, 1670. 
 
 It has been said, that a basket of wicker work, of se- 
 ven or eight feet diameter, which was constructed at 
 Lisbon, was exhibited in 1736, and upon trial ascended 
 to the height of 200 feet. But we have been able to ob- 
 tain no satisfactory accounts of the experiment. 
 
 In the year 173 5, there was published at Avignon, by 
 Joseph Galien,a small work, intitled, ^'■L'art de naviguer 
 etans les airs," in which the author asserts, that a bag of 
 cloth or leather, filled with an air lighter than that of the 
 
 atmosphere, might be employed with perfect security 
 for tiie purpose of aerial voyages. But though Galien 
 was correct in the principle which he assumed, he seems 
 to have been ignorant of the existence of any lighter spe- 
 cies of air, except what is to be found in the higher re- 
 gions ol the atmosphere. 
 
 In the year 1782, the science of aeronautics was car- 
 ried in France to an unexampled degree of perfection. 
 It was already known, that air was an elastic fluid, pos- 
 sessing the same general properties as other fluids ; and 
 that il a certain bulk of it was displaced by another body 
 of the same bulk, but of less specific gravity, that body 
 would float. From these data, Stephen and Joseph 
 Montgolficr, two brothers, who were proprietors of a 
 paper manufactory at Annonai, were first led to the con- 
 struction of balloons. Observing the natural tendency 
 of smoke and clouds to ascend in the air, they conceived 
 it practicable to confine an artificial cloud, which would 
 also rise and carry along with it the inclosing substance. 
 The first experiment which they made was at Avignon. 
 They prepared a bag of silk, of the form of a parallelo- 
 piped, containing about 40 feet when inflated. In the 
 lower part was formed an aperture, and when burning 
 paper was applied to it, the bag expanded by the rare- 
 faction of the internal air, rose rapidly, and struck the 
 ceiling of the apartment where the experiment was made. 
 In the next experiment, it ascended 70 feet in the open 
 air. 
 
 Encouraged by this success, the inventors enlarged 
 the scale of their experiments. A bag containing 650 
 cubic feet of air, rose 600 feet high. A spherical bal- 
 loon, 35 feet in diameter, was next prepared. It con- 
 tained 23,000 feet of air, and was capable of raising a 
 weight of 500 poimds. It was filled with rarefied air, 
 produced by the combustion of chopped straw and wool 
 placed below the aperture. On the 5th June, 1783, when 
 the experiment was made, a crowd of spectators assem- 
 bled to witness this new and interesting invention, and 
 the result justified their most sanguine expectations. 
 The bag ascended 6000 feet into the atmosphere, and 
 fell at the distance of 7655 feet from the place of ascent. 
 
 Stephen Montgolfier arriving soon afterwards in Pa- 
 ris, the Royal Academy of Sciences, with a laudable libe- 
 rality, invited him to repeat the experiment at their ex- 
 pense. He accordingly constructed a large balloon of 
 an elliptical form, 72 feet in height, and 41 in diameter. 
 It weighed lOC'O pounds, and was supcrljly ornamented. 
 In a preliminary experiment, it raised eight men from 
 the ground; and on the I2th September, 1783, in pre- 
 sence of the members of the Academy, it bore up a load 
 of between 400 and 500 pounds, but was accidentally 
 damaged by a violent blast of wind. A new balloon, of 
 nearly the same dimensions, was therefore constructed ; 
 three living animals in a wicker basket were attached to 
 it, and it ascended in presence of the royal family. An 
 accident similar to the former unfortunately affected the 
 success of this experiment, and the balloon did not rise 
 above 1440 feet. It fell at the distance of 10,200 feet 
 from the place of ascent, without any injury to the ani- 
 mals. 
 
 Another balloon was prepared, 74 feet high and 48 in 
 diameter, with which M. Pilatre de Rozier offered to 
 make an aerial voyage. To the lower part of it was
 
 160 
 
 AEBONAUTICS. 
 
 subpcadcd a gallery of wickcv work, ihrec feet broad, 
 wilti a balustrade of the same height. The Ulterior di- 
 ameter was about 16 feet, and the aperture of the bal- 
 loon iieai'Iy the same. Below the aperture was an iron 
 grate, hung by chains from the sidesof the balloon, which 
 the aeronaut could easily supply with fuel. M. Pilatre 
 de Rozier, after making several successful trials with 
 this balloon, while restrained by ropes, resolved to ven- 
 ture on an aerial voyage. On the 21st November, he 
 look liis place on one side of the gallery, and the marquis 
 d'Arlandes occupied the other side, to preserve an equi- 
 librium. The whole, when thus loaded, weighed up- 
 wards of 1600 pounds. The balloon rose majestically 
 before the wondering spectators, above 3000 feet in the 
 air; and in 25 minutes descended above five miles from 
 the place of its outset.* 
 
 In the beginning of the year 1784, a balloon of prodi- 
 g'ious size was constructed at Lyons, being nearly 130 
 feet high, above 105 in diameter, and containing 540,000 
 cubic feet of rarefied air. This immense machine re- 
 quired more than 50 men to retain it when inflated ; and 
 it was capable of raising from the ground six persons, 
 and 3200 pounds of ballast. On the 19th January, 1784, 
 after being filled in only 17 minutes, it ascended up- 
 wards of 3200 feet, with seven aeronauts in the gallery. 
 But a rent of 50 feet, in consequence of the badness of 
 the materials, brought it to the ground, in 15 minutes 
 from the beginning of its ascent ; the aeronauts, how- 
 ever, suffered no injury from the accident. 
 
 In February 1784, an aerial voyage, made from Milan 
 by three Italian gentlemen, in a balloon 68 feet in di- 
 ameter, was attended with a degree of success which 
 contributed to inspire still gi-eater confidence in this sin- 
 gular mode of conveyance. 
 
 Such were the leading experiments made with bal- 
 loons filled with rarefied air; but the science was des- 
 tined to undergo still greater improvements. 
 
 An aeriform fluid, now denominated hydrogen gas, 
 had been long known ; but till the year 1766, its pro- 
 perties had not been ascertained. Mr Henry Cavendish 
 then instituted a series of experiments for that purpose, 
 and found, among other properties, that it was only 
 one-seventh of the weight of common atmospherical air. 
 It immediately occurred to philosophers, that if a quan- 
 tity of hydrogen gas could be confined within any light 
 substance, that substance would rise in the atmosphere. 
 Dr Black, about 1767 or 1768, suggested, that the allan- 
 tois of a calf filled with this gaseous substance, would 
 vise from the earth; but it was not till the year 1782, 
 that hydrogen gas was actually employed to support 
 bodies floating in the atmosphere. Mr Tiberius Cavallo 
 raised soap bubbles in the air, by filling them with this 
 gas ; but he failed in his application of the gas to every 
 other substance. 
 
 Since balloons filled with rarefied air had ascended, 
 it was evident that the substitution of hydrogen gas, 
 whose specific gravity was much less, would insure 
 
 * About the termination of the year 1783, the late in- 
 genious Dr Rittenhouse, in conjunction with Mr Hop- 
 kinson, instituted a number of experiments with bal- 
 loons at Philadelphia, in America. They connected to- 
 gether several of them, of a small size, and thus enabled 
 a man to ascend to the height of about 100 feet. Through 
 timidity, however, he would not allow of a higher eleva- 
 tion. HosACK AND Francis. 
 
 still gi cater success. Two brothers, accordingly, Messrs 
 Roberts, and Mr Charles, professor of experimental phi- 
 losophy, constructed a balloon at Paris, of a spherical 
 form, and 13 feet in diameter. It was made of silk; 
 and in order to render it impermeable to the inflamma- 
 ble air, which they procured from sulpiiuric acid and 
 iron filings, they varnished it with a solution ot elastic 
 gum. After experiencing much difficulty in filling it, 
 they found its ascensive power to be 35 pounds. On 
 the 27th August, 1783, it was tried, and ascended up- 
 wards of 3000 feet, in the short space of two minutes. 
 After traversing a space of 1 5 miles, it was brought to 
 the ground by a rupture, which was probably effected 
 in the higher regions of the air, by the expansion of 
 the gas. In November 1783, a balloon, 10 feet diame- 
 ter, constriirled by count Zambeccari, ascended from 
 London, and after two hours and a half, came down at the 
 distance of 48 miles from the place of ascent. 
 
 Animated by these successful results, Mr Charles 
 and the two Messrs Roberts resolved upon attempting 
 an aerial voyage, in a balloon filled with inflammable air. 
 One was accordingly prepared by the Messrs Roberts, of 
 varnished silk, of a spherical form, 27 feet in diame- 
 ter, which had a car suspended to it, for the accommo- 
 dation of two adventurers. To prevent any danger from 
 the expansion of the air, the balloon was furnished with 
 a valve, formed in such a manner as to permit the free 
 discharge of gas when occasion required. On the 1 7th 
 December, 1783, Mr Charles, and one of the Roberts, 
 having previously ascertained the direction of tlie wind, 
 by launching a small balloon, ascended from Paris to 
 the height of 600 feet, and after a voyage of an hour 
 and three quarters, descended at a distance of 27 miles 
 from the place of their departure. The balloon being 
 then rendered 130 pounds lighter by j\Ir Roberts leaving 
 his station, Mr Charles set out alone in the car, and in 
 20 minutes found himself elevated 9000 feet above the 
 surface of the earth. At this immense height, all ter- 
 restrial objects had totally disappeared from his view. 
 The thermometer stood at 47° when he left the earth; 
 but in the space often minutes it fell to 21°. The efi'ects 
 which so rapid a change of situation produced upon his 
 body, were violent in the extreme. He was benumbed 
 with cold, and felt a severe pain in his right ear and 
 jaw. The balloon passed through different currents of 
 air ; and in the higher regions, tlie expansion of the 
 gas was so powerful, that Mr Charles was obliged to 
 allow part of it to escape, in order to prevent the burst- 
 ing of the balloon. After having risen to the height of 
 10,500 feet, he came down about a league from the 
 place of ascent. The balloon, including the two aero- 
 nauts, thermometer, barometer, and ballast, weighed 
 640 pounds ; and tlie inflammable gas was found, on 
 calculation, to be about 5^ times lighter than common 
 air. 
 
 M. Jean Pierre Blanchard, an ingenious French gen- 
 tleman, who had been projecting some mechanical con- 
 trivances for flying, constructed a balloon, 27 feet in 
 diameter, and being accompanied by a Benedictine friar, 
 he ascended from Pans on the 2d March, 1784. After 
 rising 15 feet, the balloon was precipitated upon the 
 ground with a violent shock, and the friar, apprehen- 
 sive of his safety, was induced to abandon his seat. 
 Mr Blanchard then ascended alone to the height of 9600 
 feet. He met with different currents of air. He felt 
 extreme cold, and being oppressed with drowsiness, he 
 descended after a voyage of an hour and a quarter. In
 
 AERONAUTICS. 
 
 101 
 
 fti-der to diKct his caui'se, he employed on this occa- 
 sion an apparatus, consisting of a rudder and two wia:^s, 
 which were attached to the car, but found that it cxeil- 
 ed little or no influence over the balloon, cither in this 
 or subsequent voyages. 
 
 In April 1784, Messrs Morveau and Bertrand adopt- 
 ed a similar expedient, \vhich they found to operate very 
 sensibly on the direction of their balloon. They rose 
 about 13,000 feet high, where they enjoyed one of the 
 most sublime and magnificent prospects that the ima- 
 gination could conceive. The mass of clouds that float- 
 ed hi silent disorder through the regions below, pre- 
 sented the appearance of a serene and boundless ocean, 
 while a beautiful parhelion of concentric circles, that 
 began to form as the sun was going down, heightened 
 the grandeur of the scene. In the month of June fol- 
 lowing, M. de Morveau undertook another voyage, which, 
 as well as the former, commenced at Dijon. His bal- 
 loon was 25 feet in diameter, and made of varnished 
 taffeta. 
 
 A similar device for regulating the course of the bal- 
 loon was resorted to by the Messrs Roberts, who had 
 t)efore ascended together. Their former balloon was 
 c-onverted into an oblong spheroid, 46 feet by 27, the 
 longer axis being parallel to the horizon ; and the car, 
 which was 17 feet long, had five wings or oars disposed 
 around it, for the purpose of steering. The INIessrs 
 Roberts, and M. Collin Hullin, upon entering the car, 
 threw out 24 pounds of ballast, which produced a gen- 
 tle ascent. The current of air between the altitudes of 
 600 and 4200 feet was uniform. On arriving at' the 
 height of 14,000 feet, they encountered some stormy 
 clouds, which they endeavoured to avoid, by alternately 
 ascerding and descending. In three hours from their 
 ascent, they heard two peals of thunder, when the ther- 
 mometer fell from 77° to 59°. Finding themselves soon 
 afterwards becalmed, they had recourse to their oars, 
 by the exertion of which, their balloon, in 35 minutes, 
 described an elliptical segment, whose shortest diame- 
 ter \7as 6000 feet. After travelling 150 miles, in the 
 space of six hours and a half, they descended in safety. 
 
 The Messrs Rolierts, accompanied by the late duke 
 of Orleans, and a fourth person, ascended in July 1784, 
 in a balloon different in its structure from any that had 
 hitherto been tried. On all fomier occasions, aeronauts 
 had found the method of effecting a descent by a dis- 
 charge of gas, attended with inconvenience ; and to 
 obviate this difficulty, the Messrs Roberts had suspend- 
 ed a small balloon within the large one. The interior 
 balloon was to be filled with conmion air, by means of 
 bellows attached to it, whenever they wished to descend ; 
 it being justly supposed, that the addition of common 
 ail- would increase the wciglit, as its diminution would, 
 on the other hand, lighten the balloon. This expedient, 
 however, though promising in theory, did not answer in 
 practice. In the space of three minutes, they rose to a 
 height where not an object was to be seen but the 
 clouds that surrounded them. The balloon, no longer 
 obeying their management, was tossed, with the most 
 violent agitation, as if from one whirlwiiid to another. 
 The cords, by which the interior balloon was suspended, 
 being cut, it fell down in such a position as completely 
 to close up the aperture which communicated between 
 the large balloon and the car. A sudden gust of wind 
 next drove them beyond the region of the storm ; but 
 the expansion of the inflammable air increasing, they 
 dreaded tlie bursting of the balloon ; and being unable 
 
 Vol. I. Part T.. 
 
 to remove the small one, which obstructed the aperture, 
 they continued to ascend. It was then rent in two 
 places ; and notwithstaniling the imminent danger to 
 which they were exposed, from the rapidity of its de- 
 scent, they all landed unhurt. 
 
 Though several experiments on the ascensive powfcr 
 of balloons had been made in England, (luring the 
 course of the year after their discovery, the first aerial 
 voyage, which was undertaken by Vincent Lunardi, aii 
 Italian, did not take place till September 1784. His 
 balloon was 53 feet in diameter, and shaped like a pear. 
 It was made of oiled silk, with alternate stripes ol blue 
 and red, having the car suspended from a hoop belovir 
 the balloon, by 45 cords. 
 
 In January 1785, an aerial voyage across the English 
 Channel, the most adventurous that had hitherto been 
 projected, was made by Mr Blanchard and Dr Jeffries. 
 They left Dover castle on the 7th of thai month, at on'e 
 o'clock. The Imlloon for some lime rising slowly and 
 majestically in the air, they passed over several ships, 
 and enjoyed a grand prospect of the numerous objects 
 below them. They soon, however, found themselves 
 beginning to descend, and were under the necessity oT 
 throwing out half their ballast, when they were about 
 one-third of the way from Dover. When half way 
 across the channel, the ballon again descended; upon 
 which they threw out all their ballast, and also some 
 books, which they had carried along wilh them. At 
 half an hour after two, tliey were obliged to throw away 
 every part of the apparatus that could possibly be want- 
 ed ; but still the balloon was descending, in spite of all 
 their efforts. The anchors and cords were then thrown 
 out ; and, as the last expedient in their power, the 
 aeronauts stripped themselves of their own clothes. 
 This, to their infinite satisfaction, changed the sinking 
 tendency of the balloon ; and reaching the French coast, 
 they passed over the high lands between cape Blanc and 
 Calais, and landed in the forest of Guienncs. 
 
 Encouraged by the successful issue of this enter- 
 prise, M. Pilatre de Rozier, and M. Romaine, ascended 
 from Boulogne, in July, with the intention of crossing 
 the English Channel. To insure the power of ascent 
 and descent at pleasure, they availed themselves of the 
 combined effect of two balloons ; one filled with inflam- 
 mable air, about 37 feet in diameter, and another with ra- 
 refied air, whose ascensive power was about 60 pounds. 
 The latter was suspended belov.- the other, at such a dis- 
 tance as precluded all apprehension of danger from the 
 fire which was under it. They had not, however, been 
 long in the air, before the spectators perceived the baU 
 loon swelling very quickly ; and when they had attain- 
 ed the height of nearly three quarters of a mile, the 
 whole apparatus was observed to be in flames. This 
 disaster was attended with fatal consequences to the 
 unfortunate adventurers. They were precipitated from 
 their car, and dashed to pieces upon the ground. See 
 jIn Excursion from Paris to Foiiiituijibkau. London, 
 1786. 
 
 In September following, Mr Baldwin ascended from 
 Chester. When scarcely a mile and a half high, the 
 earth appeared to be seven miles distant ; the whole 
 face of the country seemed a perfect plain, and the build- 
 ings had no apparent height. After passing through 
 various currents of air, he saw the clouds of a pure 
 white colour, moving in detached fleeces. Above these 
 he observed a vast mass of dense thunder clouds, at 
 unequal distances, resembling in colour the smoke of 
 
 K
 
 162 
 
 AERONAUTICS. 
 
 ordnance. In this voyage, he remarked, as had been 
 done before, that tlic progress of the balloon was much 
 aflected in passing over water. At the greatest altitude, 
 his respiration was free, and he felt no perceptible in- 
 crease of cold. 
 
 In June 1786, M. Testu ascended from Paris with a 
 balloon, 28 feet in diameter, on the motion of which he 
 was able to produce a very sensible effect by the manoeuv- 
 ring of wings. It was filled only | with gas ; but, at 
 2900 feet high, became quite lull, by the expansion 
 which it underwent in the rarer atmosphere. Dreading 
 the bursting of the balloon, should he continue to as- 
 cend higher, he applied himself vigorously to the man- 
 oeuvring of the wings ; and after much difficulty, and 
 severe labour, descended, in the plain of Montmorency, 
 to take in ballast. Here he procured some stones with- 
 out leaving the car. A crowd of people, impelled by 
 curiosity to see him, forced their way through a field of 
 corn, which was so considerably damaged, that the pro- 
 prietor seized on the aeronaut for indenuiification. Twen- 
 ty persons held a cord which was fixed to the car, and 
 conveyed it along, the balloon floating about six yards 
 from the ground. But when they were triumphantly 
 entering the village with their prisoner, he suddenly cut 
 the cord by which the car was restrained, and made his 
 escape into the air, to the utter amazement of his cap- 
 tors. After descending a second time, he rose again 
 and passed through clovtds which emitted vivid flashes 
 of lightning, accompanied by loud peals of thunder. The 
 sun was then setting ; and shortly afterwards, he encoun- 
 tered a storm. His balloon was tossed about among 
 clouds, some of them snowy, and others charged with 
 rain. An iron point, fixed to his car, emitted a stream 
 of light from the positive electricity of the atmosphere ; 
 and, when negative^ it exhibited a luminous spot. His 
 flag, bearing the arms of France in gold, sparkled with 
 fire during the darkness of night, while the thunder 
 rolled, and the lightning flashed around him. The storm 
 lasted for three hours ; and during all that time the aero- 
 naut durst not allow any of the gas to escape, lest its 
 communication with the electric matter should have pro- 
 duced an explosion of the balloon. The tempest at 
 length abated, and was succeeded by a perfect calm. 
 From a sublime elevation he beheld the sun rising ; and 
 after being twelve hours in the air, descended near the 
 village of Campremi, 25 leagues from Paris. His clothes 
 and balloon were impregnated with a strong sulphureous 
 smell ; and his flag had been rent by the lightning. 
 
 In June 1794, during the late war, M. Coutef ascen- 
 ded in the Entrcfirenant balloon, to reconnoitre the hos- 
 tile armies at the battle of Flcurus, accompanied by a 
 general and an adjutant. They rose twice to the height 
 of 440 j-ards, and remained four hours in the air ; and it 
 is said, that the signals which they communicated to 
 General Jourdan decided the fate of the engagement. 
 The enemy fired at the aeronauts, and one ball passed 
 so near, that they thought at first it had struck the car. 
 
 In June 1802, M. Garnerin, together with captain 
 Sowdcn, ascended from Ranelagh Gardens during a 
 storm of wind. They soon rose above the clouds, and 
 lost sight of the earth. In their descent, they had to 
 pass through thick black clouds, where the balloon suf- 
 ftrcd violent agitations ; and in three quarters of an hour 
 from their departure, they landed sixty miles from Ran- 
 elagh, though not without sustaining much injuiy from 
 sudden gusts of wind. 
 
 On the 4th July, M. Garnerin, attended by Mr Lock- 
 
 er, ascended again during a heavy gale. On this oc- 
 casion he readied a height of 7800 feet in fifteen mi- 
 nutes ; the balloon came down nine miles distant from 
 the place of ascent, and struck the ground with such 
 violence as to rebound 1 50 or 200 feet into the air. 
 
 A discovery which enabled men to visit regions of the 
 creation, which Nature had appropriated to another part 
 of the animal system, and to overcome difficulties which 
 had hitherto defied the most daring speculations of phi- 
 losophical enterprise, excited sensations of the deepest 
 wonder and interest over all Europe, and called fonh a 
 degree of activity and zeal in the improvement of aero- 
 nautic machines, which had seldom been devoted to 
 the other sciences. The limits of our work, however, 
 will not allow us to describe all the aerial voyages that 
 have been undertaken, and the various peculiarities by 
 which they were characterized ; but we shall indulgt; 
 our readers with an account of the most remarkable. 
 
 The fatal accidents to which the aeronaut might .some- 
 times be exposed, induced philosophers to devise expe- 
 dients for diminishing the danger. So early as the year 
 1783, M. le Normand made the experiment of leaping 
 from the height of a first stoiy with a parachute, 30 in- 
 ches in diameter, in his hand ; and so much did it break 
 the force of the fall, that he was hardly sensible of any 
 shock upon reaching the ground. He thence calculated, 
 that a parachute, 14 feet in diameter, attached to a mao, 
 might protect him against all possible injury, though fall- 
 ing from the regions of the clouds. During M. Blanch- 
 ard's ascent from Strasburg, 26th August, 1787, he 
 dropped a dog, connected with a parachute, from the 
 height of 6000 feet. A whirlwind, however, interrupted 
 its descent, and bore it above the clouds. M. Blanchard 
 afterwards met the parachute, when the dog, recognis- 
 ing his master, began to bark ; and just as M. Blanch- 
 ard was going to seize it, another whirlwind suddenly 
 carried it beyond his reach. Having passed vertically 
 over Zell, he terminated his voyage ; — the parachute, 
 still waving in the air, came down twelve minutes after- 
 wards. He also sent up several small balloons, contain- 
 ing parachutes, to which dogs were attached ; and con- 
 structed them in such a manner as to burst on arriving at 
 a very great height. When the balloons were burst, the 
 parachutes were necessarily set at liberty, and conveyed 
 the animals in perfect security to the ground. In a dar- 
 ing experiment, however, which he had the courage to 
 make on himself, he was less successful ; for on hazard- 
 ing a descent by a parachute at Basle, he unfortunately 
 broke his leg. 
 
 Notwithstanding the discouraging termination of M. 
 Blanchard's attempt, M. Garnerin, by the success which 
 followed his experiments with the parachute, gave phi- 
 losophers absolute confidence in its efficacy. The sixth 
 occasion on which he tried it, was in his ascent from 
 Paris on the 21st October, 1797. Between the car and 
 the balloon was placed the parachute, half expanded, 
 and foiTning a kind of tent or canopy over his head. The 
 weather was favourable, and the balloon made a rapid 
 ascent. When nearly 2000 feet high, as M. Garnerin 
 conjectured, he separated the parachute from the bal- 
 loon, while he himself was attached to the parachute. 
 Its descent, as it gradually unfolded, was slow and ver- 
 tical ; it afterwards began to oscillate, and acquire a ro- 
 tatory motion, and soon conducted the aeronaut in safety 
 to the ground. In September 1802, he repeated the same 
 experiment at London. M. Garnerin, as had been pre- 
 vioftsly announced, ascended at six o'clock of a clear 5e-
 
 AERONAUTICS. 
 
 165 
 
 i-cnc afternoon. In eight miilutes he rose 8000 feet, 
 when he cut a\ra5' the parachute from tlic balloon, and 
 descended along with it. During Iho first thirty seconds 
 of descent, it proceeded with astonishing rapidity ; but, 
 undergoing a sudden expansion, it assumed a more gen- 
 tle and equable motion. Soon, however, it began to 
 oscillate, like a pendulum, with such a degree of vio- 
 lence, as to render the aeronaut apprehensive for his 
 own safety. His fears were soon dissipated, by its be- 
 ginning to move more calmly; and he came to the 
 ground without any hurt. At the moment of separat- 
 ing the parachute, the balloon took an ascending direc- 
 tion; and was found next day 12 miles distant irom the 
 place of departure. 
 
 In July 1803, M. Garnerin made his Uiirty -third aerial 
 excursion from Petersburgh, accompanied by Madame 
 Garnerin, and his thirty-fifth from Moscow. During 
 the latter, a huntsman, who spied him hovering over a 
 wood, fired at him, which induced him to descend. 
 
 On the 7th of Octobei', count Zambeccari, Dr Gras- 
 setti, and signer Pascal Andreoli, ascended from Bologna. 
 As the filling of the balloon could not be completed be- 
 fore midnight, the count was desirous of postponing the 
 attempt till the following day; but his inclinations were 
 obliged to yield to the clamour of the populace, who 
 would not permit any delay. The balloon mounted with 
 great velocity ; and in a short time reached an elevation 
 where the count and Dr Grassetti were benumbed by 
 the intense cold, and fell into a deep sleep. About half 
 past two, they began to descend ; and signer Andreoli, 
 who still preserved his senses, observing the waves of 
 the Adriatic dashing against the coast of Romagna, 
 awakened his companions ; and in a few minutes the 
 balloon was precipitated into the sea. The aeronauts, in 
 the utmost consternation, threw out their ballast, and 
 every thing else that could be disposed of ; on which it 
 immediately re-ascended, and passed through clouds 
 where their clothes were covered with hoar frost. At 
 three o'clock it began to descend again, and a violent 
 squall drove it across the Adi'iatic towards the coast of 
 Istria. The car several times touched the waves ; and, 
 during four or five hours, the aeronauts were on the 
 surface of the sea, without any hope of being rescued 
 from the terrors of their perilous situation. But at eight 
 in the morning, at the distance of twenty Italian miles 
 from the harbour of Veruda, in Istria, they were acci- 
 dentally delivered, by a vessel, from the fate that threat- 
 ened them. 
 
 Soon after this period, several aerial voyages were 
 undertaken for purposes of scientific observation ; among 
 which the ascent of professors Robertson and Sacharoff 
 from Petersburgh, on the 30th June, merits particular 
 notice. Their balloon was 30 feet in diameter, and con- 
 tained 9000 cubic feet of hydrogen gas. The whole 
 apparatus, including ballast, instruments, and the aero- 
 nauts themselves, weighed about 725 pounds. A small 
 balloon previously launched, was first driven from the 
 coast, but on rising higher took its course towards the 
 sea. Nevertheless, the aeronauts embarked a little past 
 seven, P. M., and the balloon ascended slowly. On pass- 
 ing the Neva it sunk ; but by discharging part of their 
 ballast, it again resumed its flight. A telescope had 
 been fitted in the bottom of the car, to view distinctly 
 the objects over which they passed ; and they employ- 
 ed a very light log, consisting of two sheets of paper 
 suspended by a thread, to ascertain the rise and fall of the 
 balloon, of which they found it a more sensible index 
 
 than the baromete>. In the course of the vovagc, the 
 balloon turned round si veral times slowly ; and during 
 a perfect calm, which prevailed for some time, its mo- 
 tion was imperceptible. The aeronauts filled empty 
 vessels with air at different heights ui the atmosphere. 
 At one time, they proposed to continue theij- voyage al! 
 night ; but, from their ignorance of their actur.1 situation 
 in the sky, and from total want of ballast, they were in- 
 duced to descend. They landed accordingly, before 
 eleven, without the smallest shock, 40 miles from Pe- 
 tersburgh. Professor Robertson ascended again fron» 
 Riga, in the same month, and in his descent threw oui 
 hooked anchors to secure the balloon, instead of trusting; 
 to the uncertain assistance of men at the place of des- 
 cent. He ascended also from Vienna in October. We 
 avoid detailing the voyage wliich professor Robertson, 
 along witli Mr Lhoert, accomplished in 1803: because 
 the phenomena, which are said to have attended that ex- 
 cursion, have not received confirmation from succeeding 
 observations. 
 
 In August 1804, count Zambeccari, accompanied by 
 sig. Andreoli, made another ascent from Bologna. They 
 set out at ten in the morning ; and at one o'clock, when 
 the aeronauts found themselves above Capo D'Argine, 
 six Italian miles from Bologna, the balloon became in- 
 visible to the spectators. The count having then at- 
 tempted a descent, his anchor caught a tree, when a 
 lamp in the car being overturned, from the oblique posi- 
 tion of the balloon, the spirit of wine, which it contained, 
 took fire. The flames communicated with a vessel con- 
 taining 30 pounds of the same spirit, and as this immedi- 
 ately burst, the fire attacked the clothes of the aero- 
 nauts, which instantly called their whole attention to 
 themselves. The count succeeded in extinguishing the 
 flames which tlireatencd him, and sig. Andreoli having 
 escaped by sliding down the anchor-rope, the balloon 
 was thus lightened about 150 pounds, and with the count 
 alone sprung rapidly into the air, and soon disappeared 
 among the clouds. In this situation of danger and alarm, 
 it was by his great presence of mind and laborious ex- 
 ertions alone, that he was able to extinguish the fire in 
 the car. He was now carried by a strong current to- 
 wards the Adriatic, and could very faintly distinguish 
 the coast of Comachio. The balloon was soon afterwards 
 precipitated into the sea, 25 Italian miles from the 
 coast. The car, which was half-burnt, sunk in the wa- 
 ter: and the count, then holding fast by the ropes of the 
 balloon, was frequently up to the neck. Having fast- 
 ened one of them round his body, he remained in this 
 comfortless aiid hopeless condition, when seven fishing 
 boats came in sight at six in the evening. The crews of 
 four, terrified at the strange appearance of the aero- 
 naut with the balloon floating over him, conceived it to 
 be some large sea-monster, and fled ; but the rest less 
 influenced by fear, than by curiosity, ventured to ap- 
 proach, and rescued the count, after he had been four 
 hours in the water. The fishermen, preparing to take 
 in the balloon, inadvertently cut the ropes below, on 
 which it rose suddenly into the air, and was carried to- 
 wards the Turkish coast. 
 
 On the 27th August, 1804, Messrs Gay Lussac, and 
 Biot, ascended at Paris, from the garden of the Conser- 
 vatoire des Arts, carrying along with them a variety of 
 apparatus for the purposes of observation. The clouds, 
 through which they passed, resembled light fogs, and 
 excited a slight sensation of humidity. After surmount- 
 ing them, they appeared bluish, the same as when 
 X 2
 
 104 
 
 AERONAUTICS. 
 
 viewed from llic caj'lli. As they rose higher, the hy- 
 Ljiometcr indicalcd increasing dryness, and the balloon 
 assumed a slow rotatory motion, but not always in the 
 same direction. They ascended upwards of 13,000 feet, 
 and came down 15 leagues from Paris. 
 
 On the sixth of September, about ten in the morning, 
 M. Gay Lussac set out on a voyage by himself from the 
 same place. The atmosphere below was lull of vapour, 
 but without clouds, and when the balloon was above 
 1900 feet high, he perceived a light vapour floating 
 ilirough the \ov. er regions, which allowed him an indis- 
 tinct view of distant objects. At eleven minutes past 
 three, M. Gay Lussac found himself 22,965 feet above 
 Palis, and was astonished to see the clouds still above 
 fiim. In his former ascent none of the clouds were 
 higher than 5iOO feet, and the sky was as deeply co- 
 loured as Prussian blue ; but in this instance there were 
 no clouds below him, and the sky was dull and full of 
 vapours. He now reached the immense height of 
 23,100 feet above the earth. In thirty-four minutes 
 after the period of ascending, he landed without injury 
 six leagues north-west of Rouen. 
 
 On the 7th April, 1806, M. Mosment, an experienced 
 aeronaut, undertook an aerial voyage from Lisle. He 
 ascended at noon, waving a flag decorated with the im- 
 perial eagle of France, amid the shouts of the assembled 
 spectators. The coniniencemcnt of his career was so 
 rajjic^, as to bear him in a very short time beyond the 
 vision of the crowd. During his ascent, he dropped an 
 animal attached tea parachute, which came safely to the 
 ^^ound. About one o'clock, something was observed 
 slowly descending through the atmosphere, which pro- 
 ved on its fall to be the flag which M. Mosment had 
 tarried along with him. Very soon afterwards, a mur- 
 mur circulated through the crowd, and the body of the 
 unfortunate aeronaut was discovered in one of the fosses 
 of llie city lifeless, and covered with blood. The balloon 
 reached the ground on the same day, at the distance of 
 25 leagues from Lisle ; the car containing nothing ex- 
 cept an luiloaded pistol, a liule bread, and a piece of 
 flesh. M. Garnerin ascribes this melancholy disaster to 
 the extreme shallowness of the car, and the too great 
 distance between the cords which attached it to the bal- 
 loon ; and is of opinion, that M. Mosment, when leaning 
 over the car to drop the animal, had lost his balance, and 
 was precipitated to the earth. 
 
 Of all the vovages which the history of aeronautics 
 presents to our notice, the nocturnal aerial excursions 
 of M. Garnerin must be ranked among the most en- 
 terprising and adventurcus. At eleven o'clock in the 
 evening of the 4th August, 1807, he asei^nded from Ti- 
 voli, at Palis, under the Russian flag, as a token of the 
 peace that subsisted between France and Russia. His 
 balloon was illuminated by twenty lamps ; and to obvi- 
 ate all danger of communication between these and the 
 hydrogen gas, which it might be necessary to discharge 
 in the course of the voyage, the nearest of the lamps was 
 14 feet distant from the balloon, and conductors were 
 provided to carry the gas away in an opposite direction. 
 After his ascent, rockets, which had been let off at Tivo- 
 !i, seemed to him scarcely to rise above the earth, and 
 Paris, with all its lamps, appeared a plain studded with 
 luminous spots. In forty minutes, he found himself at 
 an elevation of 1 5,200 feet, when, in consequence of the 
 dilatation of the balloon, he was under the necessity of 
 discharging part of the inflammable air. About twelve 
 o'clock, when 3&00 feet from the ejrth, he heard the 
 
 barking of dogs ; about two, he saw several meteors fly- 
 ing around him, but none of them so near as to create 
 apprehension. At half past three, he beheld the sun 
 emerging in brilliant majesty, above an ocean of clouds, 
 and tiie air being thereby expanded, the balloon soon 
 rose 15,000 feet above the earth, where he felt the cold 
 exceedingly intense. In seven hours and a half from his 
 departure, M. Garnerin descended near Loges, 43 
 leagues distant from Paris. 
 
 The same intrepid aeronaut undertook a second noc- 
 turnal voyage, on the 21sl September, 1807, in thft 
 course of which he was exposed to the most imminent 
 danger. M. Garnerin prognosticating an approaching 
 storm, irom the state of the atmosphere, relused to hv 
 accompanied by M. de Chassenton, who earnestly re- 
 quested it. He ascended therefore alone from Tivolij 
 at ten o'clock, and was carried up with unexampled ra- 
 pidity to an immense height above the clouds. The 
 balloon was there dilated to an alarming degree, and 
 M. Garnerin, having been prevented by the turbulence 
 of the mob, before his ascent, from regulating those 
 parts of the apparatus which were meant to conduct the 
 gas away from the lamps on its escape, was totally inca- 
 pable of managing the balloon. He had no alternative 
 left, therefore, but with one hand to make an opening, 
 two feet in diameter, through which the inflammable air 
 was discharged in great quantities ; and, with the other, 
 to extmguish as many of the lamps as he could possibly 
 reach. The aeronaut was now without a regulating 
 valve ; and the balloon, subject to every caprice of the 
 whirlwind, was tossed about from current to current. 
 When the storm impelled him downwards, he was for- 
 ced to throw out his ballast, to restore the ascending 
 tendency ; and at last, every resource being exhausted, 
 no expedient was left him to provide against future exi- 
 gencies. In this forlorn condition, the balloon rose 
 through thick clouds, and afterwards sunk ; and the car, 
 having struck against the ground, with a violent im- 
 pulse rebounded from it to a considerable altitude. The 
 fury of the storm dashed him against the mountains; 
 and, after manv rude agitations and severe shocks, he 
 was reduced to a state (^f temporary insensibility. On 
 recovering from his perilous situation, he reached Mont 
 Tonnerre in a storm of thunder. A very short time 
 after his anchor hooked in a tref ; and, in seven hours 
 and a half, after a voyage which had nearly proved fatal 
 to him, he landed at the distance of 3o0 miles from Paris. 
 
 Although these aerial voyages, which wt have thus 
 briefly narrated, are the most conspicuous in the histo- 
 ry of the science, yet many others have been underta- 
 ken, both in Britain and on tlie continent, which the 
 ingenuity, and the enterprising spirit of the adventurers, 
 the circumstances of unforeseen intricacy and danger they 
 had to encounter ; and, above all, the scenes of tem- 
 pestuous grandeur through which they passed, must ren- 
 der subjects of lively interest to the curious : and we 
 regret that, solicitous as we arc to gratify the taste of 
 such a class of readers, our limits prevent us from de- 
 tailing the more unimportant and less remarkable 
 voyages that have taken place. 
 
 Use of Balloons. 
 
 The advantages hitherto derived from aerial naviga- 
 tion have by no means proved adequate to the expecta- 
 tions excited by the novelty and promising aspect of the 
 science. This failure in their utility may, in a great 
 degree, be ^scribed to the art of steering balloons being
 
 AERONALTICS. 
 
 1G5 
 
 biill undiscovered : It must also be lemcmbercd, that by 
 tar tilt greatest iiiiuibcr of aerial voya^^es which have 
 been allLinpted, were undertaken purely for the i^raiifi- 
 cation of curiosity ; and tliat comparatively few of tlicni 
 have been conducted witii llie precaution of philosophi- 
 cal inquiry, or lor the purpose of scientific discovery. 
 In choosing the figures ot the balloons, likewise, the 
 admiration of the multitude seems more frequently to 
 have been consulted than the fair and equable movement 
 of the machine, or the safety of the aeronaut. A bal- 
 loon, constructed in imitation of the human figure, 
 clothed in a flame-coloured robe ; or of a Pegasus 
 transporting through the clouds a richly-accoutred war- 
 rior, could not fail to fascinate the senses of a crowd. 
 The French, indeed, who are ever ready to apply the 
 discoveries of science to objects of practical utility, 
 during the first war after the overthrow of the monarchy, 
 instituted an academy for the express purpose of im- 
 proving the state of aeronautics. This institution was 
 established at the Royal Lodge of Mendon, near Paris, 
 and was conducted with the utmost secrecy. There 
 was a corps of aeronauts, consisting of fifty youths, 
 trained to the service ; and a spherical balloon, 32 feet 
 in diameter, was kept constantly prepared for exerci- 
 sing, and fastened to the great terrace of the lodge, in 
 the open air. In favourable weather it was loosened ; 
 and with the car, which contained the colonel of the 
 corps and a pupil, attached to it, it was allowed to as- 
 cend from 160 to 240 yards ; but it was still restrained 
 by a cord fastened from below. A balloon, recently filled, 
 required twenty people to hold it ; and, even after the 
 lapse of two months, notwithstanding the loss of gas 
 that had taken place, it could support two persons and 
 ballast in the air. Balloons were here prepared tor the 
 service of the dilTerent armies ; the Kntrrtirenant for 
 the army of the North, the Celeste for that of the Sam- 
 bre and Meuse, and the Hercule and Intrepidc for the 
 army of the Rhine and Moselle. The management of 
 the institution was committed to men of eminent repu- 
 tation ; the celebrated chemist, Guyton Morveau, ren- 
 dered it essential advantages ; and M. Conte was chief 
 superintendent. It was reported, some years ago, to 
 have been in a very flourishing condition ; but it is now 
 said to be entirely abandoned. M. Lomet has been very 
 lately employed, by the French government, in making 
 experiments, to ascertain whether balloons miglit not be 
 advantageously enii)loyed in the survey of countries, 
 for the construction of geographical plans. The irre- 
 gular motion of the balloon in ascending presented 
 many obstacles to the sliccess of his experiments ; but, 
 nevertheless, M. Lomet conceives that they might Ije 
 used with great benefit for that purpose. It has like- 
 wise been proposed to make an aeronautic telegraph, 
 by which signals might be communicated through the 
 medium of a machine attached to the balloon. The 
 Abbe Bertholon has used balloons in electrical experi- 
 ments. Those which he sent up, had long slender wires 
 proceeding from them, witli the end terminating in a 
 glass-rod, or other insulating substance ; and from the 
 wires he procured the electric spark. 
 
 The respiration is always affected by ascending liigh 
 into the atmosphere, probably in conseqi^ence of the 
 rarefaction of the air; the pulsation is increased, the 
 head is sometimes swelled, and the throat parched. The 
 temperature, according to the most authentic observa- 
 tions, decreases in proportion to the height : whence, 
 jn great altitudes, a numbness'is felt, and the propen- 
 
 sity to sleep so irresistibly strong, as in some cases to 
 have actually overpowered the aeronauts. The mag- 
 netic power was tound, by M. Gay Lussac, to prevail 
 at the height of 12,372 feet, the same as on the surface 
 of the earth. At the same time, other aeronauts have 
 thought it very sensilily diminished ; though we are in- 
 clined to suppose, that this opinion may liav^ possibly 
 arisen from their inattention to the disturbing causes. 
 From an experiment made by the chemist already men- 
 tioned, electricity seemed to increase in proportion to 
 the height ; which, he observes, is agreeable to the 
 theory of M. Volta and Saussure. SacharolV ascertained, 
 that a bell had the same intensity of sound when the 
 barometer fell to 23 inches, as it had at the surface of 
 the earth ; and, when it had sunk to 22 inches, the words 
 spoken downwards from a speaking-trumpet, were re- 
 verberated to the ears of the aeronauts, after a lapse of 
 10 seconds before their return. Some time after the 
 invention of balloons, an experiment was made to ascer- 
 tain whether the sound of thunder, rolling among the 
 clouds, was only an echo travelling troni cloud to cloud, 
 or a succession of distinct explosions. A balloon, five 
 feet in diameter, was prepared by Mr Boullon of Bir- 
 mingham, which was furnished with inflammable mate- 
 rials to communicate the fire. When sent into the air, 
 accordingly, an explosion took place ; but a shout, at 
 that moment, from the crowd assembled on the occasiori, 
 rendered it impossible to distinguish any succeeding 
 explosions. M. Testu, who, in one of his ascents, con- 
 tinued for a long time amidst a thunder storm, says, that 
 the hollow sound was very loud but short ; that it was 
 preceded and followed by a hissing or tearing, resem- 
 bling the noise of something rending asunder. 
 
 The composition of the air, at the height of 21,849 
 feet, has been found to be the same as at the surface of 
 the earth. Various currents prevail at different alti- 
 tudes, and some of them in directions diametrically op- 
 posite to each other. Storms, too, are frequently local ; 
 and, when the aeronaut surmounts the region of their 
 influence, he is safe. The velocity with which a bal- 
 loon is transported in the fury of a tempest, if not so 
 well authenticated, would almost stagger our belief ; in- 
 stances have occurred where it has not been less than 
 70 or 80 miles an hour. The structure of the clouds 
 has, in appearance, been compared by some to a plain 
 of snow ; and by others, to a sea of cotton. Some, again, 
 have compared those charged with electricity to the 
 smoke of ordnance. Clouds consisting of hail or snow 
 are frequently met with, in such abundance, that these 
 substances may be gathered in handfuls from the car. 
 Others consist of mist or rain, in which the aeronaut, 
 who is every moment exposed to a change of tempera- 
 ture, is copiously drenched. Notwithstanding all the 
 changes experienced in an aerial voyage, the gas con- 
 tained in the balloon always preserves a much -higher 
 degree of heat than that of the surrounding atmosphere ; 
 a fact that has not as yet been satisfactorily accounted 
 for. Birds, or other v/ingcd animals, when allowed to 
 escape at a great height, either fall down with precipi- 
 tation, on finding the quality of the fluid different from 
 what they have been accustomed to, or they descend 
 obliquely in their flight, describing long curves similar 
 to those of birds of prey. 
 
 Construction of Balloons, 
 
 In the formation of balloons, three things are to be at- 
 tended to : the strncture of the balloon containins the
 
 166 
 
 AEUOXAUTICS. 
 
 air which produces its ascent ; that of the parachulc ; 
 and of the car or boat, which receives the aeronaut. 
 Ballooiiiiare either spherical or elliptical ; the spherical 
 ibnn, however, has been almost universally adopted, 
 probably because a sphere admits the greatest capacity 
 under the smallest surface. Balloons filled with rare- 
 fied air, have usually been made of common linen, 
 soaked in a solution of alum to obviate the risk, of fire, 
 and varnished to prevent the escape of the air. It is ot 
 advantage to have them of a considerable size, because 
 a smaller quantity of fire will produce a greater propor- 
 tional rarefaction, and it is besides attended with less 
 danger. It has been thought that the most eligible 
 figure for a balloon with rarefied air, is an inverted cone, 
 or a truncated pyramid, as it would allow the heated 
 air, which has both a tendency to ascend and to expand, 
 to occupy the wide part above, while the lower part 
 would contain the colder air. Experiments, however, 
 have proved, that the ascensive power depends by no 
 means on the figure of the balloon. Mr Cavallo recom- 
 mends, that the opening of a rarefied air balloon above 
 the fire, should be one-third of the diameter of the bal- 
 loon itself, if the size exceeds 50 feet ; and that it should 
 project from the balloon by a cylindrical neck. The 
 gallery for the aeronauts is placed on the outside of 
 this neck, and the fire-place for rarefying the air within 
 it. Above the edge of the gallery, holes are cut for 
 introducing fuel to the fire. Small balloons after this 
 method, may be made of paper, with a wire roimd the 
 bottom. Two or three cross wires are fixed in the 
 centre to support a cup, containing cotton and spirits of 
 wine, the flame of which rarefies the air, and produces 
 the ascent. We shall now proceed to consider the con- 
 struction of balloons filled with inflammable air, whose 
 superior advantages deserve a more detailed and atten- 
 tive description. 
 
 The substance uniformly used for the envelope of in- 
 flammable air, is silk lustring, which, from its close 
 texture, strength, and lightness, is peculiarly suitable for 
 the purpose. The price, however, of this material is so 
 extremely high in Great Britain, as to render the con- 
 struction of a balloon even of a middling size very ex- 
 pensive. Hence a late judicious writer on this subject 
 suggests the expedient of substituting strong cambric 
 muslin, rinsed in drying oil, previously to the junction of 
 the separate pieces. In calculating the weight and 
 quantity of cloth requisite for constructing a balloon of 
 a given diameter, we have only to multiply the square of 
 the diameter by 3.1416, and the product will be an area 
 of the surface of the sphere, or the quantity of cloth ne- 
 cessary for its formation. Thus, if the balloon be 12 fget 
 diameter, we have 12x12x3.1416=452 square feet 
 nearly, or 50 square yards for the quantity of cloth. The 
 weight of this quantity of cloth will be found by multi- 
 plying the number of square yards by the weight of one- 
 yard of the cloth. The solid contents of the balloon 
 may be found by multiplying the cube of its diameter by 
 0.5236. 
 
 When the capacity of the balloon is determined, it 
 will not be difficult to ascertain its power of ascent. A 
 cubic foot of atmospherical air weighs about 1 .2 oz. ; 
 whence a quantity of air, equal in bulk to the solid con- 
 tents of a spherical balloon, 35 feet in diameter, weighs 
 26,950 ounces, or about 1684 pounds. Suppose the in- 
 flammal)le gas in the balloon is six times lighter than 
 common air, then the weight of it is 280 pounds, which 
 occupy the same space as the atmospheric air displaced ; 
 
 to this add 428 pounds, the weight of the bag or envelope, 
 and the whole makes 708 pounds : deducting this num- 
 ber from 1 684, the weight ol common air displaced, there 
 remain 'J76 poimds, as the ascensive power, or specific 
 levity of the balloon. This method of computation will 
 lead to the proper results, whatever be tlic dimensions of 
 the balloon, or the specific levity of the gas. Thus, a 
 a balloon 30 feet in diameter requires 314 yards of cloth, 
 and its ascensive power will be 581 pounds. One, 20 
 feet in diameter, requires 140 yards, and its power is 122 
 pounds. 
 
 In sewing together the corresponding edges of the 
 separate pieces of the envelope, one is left half an inch 
 broader than the other, and is turned over in a subse- 
 quent row of stitches. This double seam is put be- 
 tween two pieces of brown paper, and pressed with a 
 fire-iron, heated just enough to soften the drying oil. 
 One or two tubes of the same material as the balloon, 
 are used for introducing the gas, and these are tied up 
 whenever it is filled. A balloon of 30 feet diameter re- 
 quires two tubes of six inches. The whole external sur- 
 face is covered with a coat of varnish. The following 
 composition, prescribed by Cavallo, is the best for this 
 purpose. " Boil a pint of linseed-oil with two ounces of 
 sugar-of-lead, and three of litharge ; and when they are 
 dissolved, put a pound of birdlime, and half a pint of the 
 drying oil, into an iron or copper vessel, and allow it to boil 
 gently over a slow charcoal fire, till the birdlime ceases 
 to crackle, which may require about half an hour or three 
 quarters. Then pour two pints and a half more of the 
 drying oil upon it, and let it boil about an hour longer, 
 taking care to stir it frequently. It will be found to be 
 sufficiently boiled, when, by rubbing a little of it between 
 two knives, the varnish, on their separation, draws into 
 threads. After it is removed from the fire, and nearly 
 cold, add about an equal quantity of spirit of turpentine." 
 When the varnish is to be used, it should be luke-warm, 
 and the balloon stretched out. It dries in the space of 
 24 hours. Another varnish has been made from a pre- 
 paration of caoutchouc, or Indian rubber. This is done 
 by dissolving that substance, cut into very small pieces, 
 in five times its weight of ethereal spirit of turpentine, 
 which is effected by keeping them for some days to- 
 gether ; then boil an ounce of this solution a few minutes 
 in eight ounces of drying linseed oil ; and having strained 
 it, apply it while warm to the balloon. 
 
 As the balloon would be in danger of bursting, by the 
 degree of expansion which the included air undergoes 
 in the higher regions of the atmosphere, a valve is em- 
 ployed for allowing the air to e^icape, when the balloon 
 is too much distended. It has generally been placed at 
 the top of the balloon, though the equator of the balloon, 
 has been recommended as tlie best position for the valve. 
 
 The car, whose size and figure are quite arbitrary, is 
 made of wicker, covered with leather, and well varnished. 
 It is attached to the balloon by cords, proceeding from 
 a net-work, which covers the upper half of the balloon. 
 These cords are collected about two feet below the 
 balloon, in the circumference of a circle, from which 
 other cords are distributed down to the edges of the car. 
 The meshes of the net-wcrk are smaller above, because 
 it is there that the greatest strength is required. la 
 some instances, it is connected by means of a hoop, 
 made usually of wood or cane, and encircling the balloon. 
 The car is represented in Plate III. Fig. 3., and also in 
 Plate IV. Fig. 1. at CD. 
 
 The exact dimensions which a parachute ought to
 
 AERONALTICS 
 
 167 
 
 have, in order to be an instrument of perfect security and 
 confidence, have not yet been ascertained. Tlie para- 
 chute, by which M. Garnerin descended at Paris in 1797, 
 was 25 teet in diameter, and was made of cloth ; and that 
 by which he descended at London in 1802, is said to 
 have been a large umbrella, consisting of 32 gores of 
 canvas, 23 feet in diameter, and without ribs and handle. 
 At the top there was a round piece of wood, 10 inches 
 in diameter, having a hole in the centre, which was fast- 
 ened to the canvas by 32 short pieces of tape. About 
 four feet and a half from the top of the canvas, a wooden 
 hoop, eight feet wide, was put on and tied by a string 
 from each scam Several ropes, about 3U feet long, pro- 
 ceeding from the edge of the parachute, terminated in 
 a common joining. From this point there issued sjiort- 
 er ropes, to whose extremities was fastened a circular 
 basket, in which W. Garnerin himself was stationed. 
 The parachute and basket were immediately disunited 
 from the balloon, by the cutting of a cord which com- 
 municated with the net-work, and in falling downwards, 
 the parachute naturally expanded, by the resistance of 
 the air. Several improvcn-.ents on the parachute have 
 been suggested ; viz. by constructing it of varnished 
 cambric muslin, or liglU linen, covered externally with 
 a netting firmly fixed to it ; by making the diame- 
 ter, when expanded, not more than 20 feet, and forming 
 but a small segment of a sphere ; by having a central 
 aperture in the segment, fully three feet in diameter, to 
 allow the escape of the air as it descends ; and by fur- 
 nishing this with a shutter on a hinge, which the aero- 
 naut might close or open, according to circumstances, 
 by means of a cord connecting the shutter with the bas- 
 ket. The parachute, when open, is represented in Plate 
 IV. figure 2; and figure 3 represents it when shut. 
 
 Since it would be a work of infinite labour to collect 
 hydrogen gas as it exists in its original and natural 
 state, the method of procuring it from the chemical ac- 
 tion of bodies is always resorted to as the most conve- 
 nient and productive. It may sometimes be obtained in 
 such purity, as to be twelve times lighter than common 
 air, but in general its specific levity is only five or six 
 times greater. It is usually procured from a solution 
 of iron or zinc in sulphuric acid. The iron best adapt- 
 ed for the purpose, is the turnings produced by the bo- 
 ring of cannon ; but when this cannot be obtained, chips 
 of iron should be preferred to filings. It is of impor- 
 tance to attend to the purity of the metal ; for rust 
 produces hydrocarbonate, a gas which is specifically 
 heavier than atmospherical air. Grease also is injuri- 
 ous, because it resists the action of the acid. The sul- 
 phuric acid must be diluted with five or six times its 
 weight of water. Iron yields about 1700 times its own 
 bulk of gas ; therefore, 4| ounces of iron, with the same 
 weight of sulphuric acid, and 22^ of water, will produce 
 a cubic foot of inflammable air ; and of zinc, 6 ounces, 
 with the same quantity of acid, and 30 ounces of water, 
 will produce a cubic foot of air. The gas is collected 
 into a number of casks, which are disposed round a large 
 cask or cooler ; the cooler contains water mixed with 
 unslacked lime, and receives the gas from the sur- 
 rounding casks through tin tubes, which connect them 
 with each other; and the gas, purified from any carbo- 
 nic acid gas, which may have incorporated w ith it be- 
 fore it passed through the water, is conveyed by a silken 
 tube from the cooler into the balloon. The smaller 
 casks in which the solution is carried on, ought to be 
 lined with tin. M. Gamer in, in 1803, used 35 casks, 
 
 every 12 of which communicated with a cooler, and three 
 tubes from the three coolers cjnveyed the gas into a 
 large tube, which was joined to the balloon. Profes- 
 sors Robertson and Sacharofl' had 25 vessels communica- 
 ting with a cooler, into each of which they put 120 poimds 
 of iron filings, (chiefly from cast-iron,) along with 600 
 pounds of water, and I 20 pounds of sulphuric acid pour- 
 ed over it. The filling of the balloon occupied five 
 hours. M. Blanchaid filled a balloon 21 feet in diame- 
 ter, from only foin- casks, each holding 120 gallons. Lu- 
 nardi, a celebrated aeronaut, reducing the apparatus to 
 still greater simplicity, employed oidy two casks, from 
 which the gas was transmitted into the balloon without 
 passing through water ; and in the short space of half 
 an hour, he filled the balloon in which he ascended from 
 Edinburgh and Glasgow ; it was of a pear-shape, 23 feet 
 in diameter, and 30 in height. M. Blanc hard used 1000 
 pounds of iron, and 1250 of sulphuric acid, for producing 
 the gas to fill a balloon of 2 1 feet. Lunardi, on the occa- 
 sion we have just now mentioned, employed 2000 pounds 
 of each, and 12,000 of water. The latest writer on this 
 subject computes, that this quantity should suffice for a 
 balloon of 30 feet in diameter, which is 14,137 in capaci- 
 ty. The balloon of 53 feet, in which Lunardi first as- 
 cended in England, and one that ascended from Nantz 
 about the same time, were filled from zinc instead of 
 iron. Making allovtance for the expansion of the gas 
 during the ascent, the balloon is never filled above three 
 fourths. There is also a method of procuring hydrogen 
 gas, by passing water over metals, or through tubes pre- 
 viously heated to redness. Although there is a danger 
 of the metal running to a slag before any considerable 
 quantity of gas is obtained, the aeronautic institution at 
 Mendon, erected an apparatus, consisting of a series of 
 red-hot cylinders, from v/hich they filled their balloon, 
 32 feet in diameter, in the space of eight hours. This 
 method is found sufficiently productive, and is more eco- 
 nomical than the former. 
 
 In filling balloons, great care should be taken that 
 they be fixed in such a manner as to prevent them from, 
 escaping prematurely mto the air. Instances have hap- 
 pened, in which a disregard of this precaution has proved 
 fatal to persons who were holding the balloon by ropes ; 
 the balloon, on acquiring a sufficient ascensive power, 
 suddenly rose into the air, before those who were at- 
 tempting to restrain it could extricate themselves from 
 their hold. The exercising balloon at Mendon had aa 
 ascensive power of 800 pounds, which is equal to the 
 strength of 20 people, and it was retained by means of 
 a capstan. 
 
 We shall conclude this subject by observing, that sails 
 and oars, which have both received the proof of experi- 
 ment, have been found of little or no advantage in guid- 
 ing balloons. Wings or oars have indeed m some rare 
 instances produced an impression on the balloon's course 
 which was barely sensible, and have therefore received 
 no sanction from general use. The total inability of the 
 aeronaut to impress on the balloon a determinate direc- 
 tion, is the greatest defect in the science of aeronautics. 
 
 Exfilanation of the Figures. 
 
 Plate III. Fig. 1. Father Lana's aeronautic vessel. 
 See page 159. col. 1. 
 
 Fig. 2. Rarefied air balloon, with which Mr Pilatre 
 de liozier and the marquis D'Arlandes ascended. See 
 page 159. col. 2. 
 
 i'ig. 2. M. Blanchard's balloon. Sec p. 160. col. 3.
 
 16S 
 
 ^SC 
 
 jEm 
 
 Fig. 4. M. Charles and Roberts' balloon. Sec p. 
 160. col. 1. 
 
 Fig. 5. Pattern for cutting the pieces or gores to 
 form a balloon. These gores are constructeil in the same 
 manner as those of globes. On figure 5. are engraved 
 the breadths of the gore at different places, the greatest 
 breadth being 1.000. 
 
 Platk IV. I'ig. 1. Operation of filling balloons. M,M, 
 two tubs about two feet in diameter, and three feet deep, 
 inverted in N,N, two casks of water. A tin tube T is in- 
 serted in the bottom of each tub, si.K or seven inches in 
 diameter, to which the silken tubes conducting the gas 
 to the balloon are fastened. 
 
 The casks N,N are surrounded with several other 
 casks, containing the materials producing the gas. From 
 the top of each of these a tin tube introduces the gas 
 into the central casks, from which it passes into the bal- 
 loon. Tlic balloon, when it is in its flaccid state, is sus- 
 pended at F, on the horizontal rope EFG. The net is 
 then put over it, and the common air expelled. The 
 strings which surround the balloon are fixed to the hoop 
 AB, to which the boat CD is suspended; and after the 
 balloon is about three quarters full of the gas, the silken 
 tubes are taken from the tin ones T,T, the lateral ropes 
 are slipped off', and the aeronaut is abandoned to the mer- 
 cy of the clement. Seepage 166. col. 2. 
 
 Fig. 2. Represents Garnerin's parachute when ex- 
 panded. See page 167. col. 1. 
 
 Fig. 3. Represents the same parachute when shut. 
 
 For farther information on this subject, see Roger Ba- 
 con, de his (jUiX mundo inirabiliter evetiiwit, et de mirabili 
 
 jioteilate artis et nainrx, fol. 42. Edit. 1542. Lohmeier 
 de artijicuj navii^andi ficr aercm, 1676. Wilkins's Di»- 
 covcry of u JVenu H'orld, his Maihcmatical Magic, And his 
 Swift and Secret RIesaenger. St Fond, aur lea Krfieriencea 
 de Montgolfcr, Paris, 1784. Galien's L'art de naviger 
 dans Ics airs amusement Physique et Geometrirjue., fire- 
 cede d'un Memoire aur la nature et la formation de lagrele. 
 Avignon, 1755. Bertholon, De rectriciie dea meteorea, 
 a.nd aur lea globes aerostatii/uea, 1784. Cavallo's History 
 and Practice of Aerostation, 1785. Cavallo's Afatural 
 Philoaofihy, vol. iv. p. 319, 331, 550, 354. Journal de 
 P/iysii/ue, 1676, p. 426. torn. lix. Jniuilea de Chimie, vol. 
 xxxi. p. 94. vol. xxxvi. p. 94. Nicholson's Joi^rna/, 8vo. 
 vol. vi. p. 10, 1 1, 12, 13. P hilos'jfihical Magazine, vol. iv. 
 p. 108.; vol. xiv. p. 337.; vol. xix. p. 371, 388.; vol. xx. 
 p. 81.; vol. xxi. p. 220.; vol. xxiv. p. 282, 358.; vol. xxxiv. 
 p. 78. Kncyclopedie Afethoiliijur, art. Ballon. Southern 
 on AiTOslatic Machines, 1785. Meyer's Fragmens sur 
 Penis, torn. ii. p. 107. Obser-cationa fiar Rozier, torn. ii. 
 p. 140.; torn. xxiv. p. 64,81, 156.; torn. xxv. p. 39. Bald- 
 win's Acr<ipaidie, 1786. Henzion sopra le Machine Aeros- 
 laticjiic Florence, 1788. Hooke's P///7. Collect. No. i. p. 
 15, 18. Mem. Acad. Par. 1781, p. 40. Gilbert's Jour- 
 7uil der P/iysik, torn. xvi. Martin's Hints on Aerostatic 
 Globes, 1784. Roberts, sur lea F.xper. .itrostat. 1784. 
 Ji X cur aion from Paris to Fountainhleau, containing an ac- 
 count of the ascent of Pilatre de Rozier, 1786. Lunar- 
 di's Account of his Five Aerial Voyages in Scotland, 1786. 
 Magasin Fncyclo/i. lom. v. An. II. p. 289, 298. Decade 
 PhUoa. torn. iv. An. VI. p. 570. General Money on the 
 Use of Balloons in Military Operations, 1803. (c) 
 
 AEROSTATION, a word employed to denote the 
 science of navigating the air by means of balloons. It is 
 compounded of «»», i/ie a/r, and (rrxliy.vi, statics, and there- 
 fore signifies the doctrine of the pressure and equilibrium 
 of air. For tliis reason, we have preferred the word 
 AERONAUTICS, as expressing exactly the science of aerial 
 navigation, (to) 
 
 jESCHINES, a distinguished Grecian orator, the 
 contemporary and rival of Demosthenes, was born at 
 Athens about the year 390, B. C. Though his parentage 
 seems to have been but humble, his talents soon attract- 
 ed the notice and admiration of his countrymen. From 
 exercising in the gymnasimn, and acting as a tragedian, 
 he betook himself to the study of rhetoric, under tlie 
 tuition of Isorrates and Plato, or, according to others, of 
 Alcidamas, the preceptor of Gorgias, and at length be- 
 came the competitor of Demosthenes the prince of ora- 
 tors. Their jealousy of each other was increased by the 
 opposite parts v. hich they took in the affairs of the repub- 
 lic, w ith respect to Philip of Macedon. During an em- 
 bassy for negotiating wiili that prince, yEschines is said 
 to have accepted a bribe, in consequence of which he 
 persuaded the Athenians, contrary to the remon.strances 
 of Demosthenes, to confide in the perfidious promises 
 of this aspiring monarch. Tlirough the same influence 
 Philip was cliosen generalissimo of the Greeks by the 
 council of the Amphictyons, and invested with unlimited 
 power to act as their leader. Demosthenes, aware of 
 the danger with which his country was thus threatened, 
 immediately roused the Allienians by the thunders of his 
 eloquence, and pre railed with them to join the Thcbans 
 
 in resisting the Macedonian king; but having fled at the 
 battle of Cheronsea, in which Philip was victorious, his 
 countrymen ascribed this disaster to his misconduct, 
 and jEschines came forward as his public accuser. It 
 was on this occasion, that they composed their two cele- 
 brated orations, intilled, Ue^i c-r£(?a»s, or Concerning the 
 Crown, because .^.schines's accusation of Demosthenes 
 was directly preferred against his friend Ctesiphon, for 
 having moved a decree, as he alleged, contrary to the 
 laws, to confer a golden crown on Demosthenes, as a 
 mark of public approbation. These orations have al- 
 ways been regarded as the noblest specimens of ancient 
 eloquence; and in estimating their comparative merits, 
 it may be justly said, that iEschines was only inferior 
 to his rival. So powerful and convincing was the im- 
 pression which Demosthenes made, that ^Eschincs not 
 only lost his cause, but was sentenced to banishment for 
 his rash accusation. Demosthenes felt deeply for his 
 rival ; and, forgetting their mutual jealousy, nobly press- 
 ed upon him the acceptance of a sum of money to soften 
 the hardships of his exile ; on which yEschines exclaim- 
 ed, " How is it possible for me not to regret a countiy, 
 in which I leave an enemy more generous than I can ex- 
 pect even a friend to be any where else!" During his 
 exile, he opened a school of eloquence at Rhodes ; and is 
 said to have commenced his lectures with reading his 
 oration against Demosthenes, which was received with 
 unbounded applause. But the next day, having read the 
 counter-oration of his illustrious rival, the applauses of 
 his audience were redoubled; on which, with the most 
 generous liberality of scntinjent, he said, "How much
 
 iESC 
 
 JilSC 
 
 ioy 
 
 more would you have admired it, if you had heard it IVom 
 the lips of Demosthenes himself!" From Rhodes he le- 
 moved to Samos, where he died at the age of 75. He is 
 thought, by some, to have been the first who delivered 
 extemporaneous orations ; but, by others, this is ascribed 
 to Gorgias. His style is perspicuous, dignified, and for- 
 cible ; and his reasonings are subtile and persuasive : but 
 they by no means possess the animation, and energy, by 
 which the orations of Demosthenes are distinguished. 
 Only three of the orations said to be his are acknowledged 
 to be genuine by the ancients; viz. 1. yJdvcrsus Timar- 
 chum. 2. De Falsa hegationc. 3. Advcrsus Ctesijihon- 
 tern, sive De Corona. These Photius, and after him Fa- 
 bricius, denominate the three Graces. Photius also at- 
 tributes to him nine epistles, which lie called the Muses, 
 though Wolfius and Taylor, in their editions of his works, 
 have published twelve, said to have been written to the 
 Athenians when he was an exile at Rhodes. See Plut. 
 de Fit. X.. Oral, a/iud o/ier. torn. ii. p. 840. Cicero, Lib. 
 de o/il. gen. Oratorum. Cicero, De Oral. lib. iii. Phil- 
 ostrat. De Vil. Sophist, p. 506. Quinct. Inst. Orat. lib. 
 X. c. 1. Fabric. Bibl. Grac. (rf) 
 
 jESCHYLUS, one of the first Grecian tragic poets 
 and reformers of the stage. The accounts of the life of 
 this author, as of most of the early Greek poets, have 
 descended to us in a very questionable shape. In the 
 biography, which is generally prefixed to the editions 
 of his works, he is said to have been contemporary with 
 Pindar, the celebrated lyric poet. According to Herodo- 
 tus, {Herodot. ii. 156.) he was the son of Euphorion; but 
 we have no authentic information with regard to the cir- 
 cumstances of his parents, or the exact date of his birth. 
 This much, however, is certain, that he was present at 
 the battle of Marathon, {an. 490. ant. Christ, nat.) upon 
 which occasion, he exhibited proofs of uncommon brave- 
 ry, and likewise at the battles of Salamis and Plataea, 
 (Pausan. i. 14.) He pretended to have been encoura- 
 ged in a dream, by Bacchus, to attempt tragic poetry. 
 Towards the close of his life, he withdrew himself from 
 Athens, to the court of Hiero, tyrant of Syracuse. Va- 
 rious reasons have been assigned for his retreat. Some 
 assert, that he was unable to bear the preference given 
 to his rival Sophocles, who at this time began to rise in 
 fame ; while others think his exile was the eflfect of cha- 
 grin, upon being obliged to yield tlie palm, in a poetic 
 contest, to some younger poet. Plutarch, in vit. Cimon. 
 He is said to have consulted the Delphic oracle with re- 
 gard to the time and manner of his death, and to have 
 received the following response : 
 
 Owganon <r£ jStAo; y.a.ray.rct'iu. 
 
 Telum e coelo missum tibi maturabit mortem. 
 
 Accordingly, it is reported, that he died in consequence 
 of an eagle having let fall a tortoise upon the bald head 
 of the poet, which he had mistaken for a rock. Plin. x. 
 3. Val. Max. ix. 12. Extern, ii. 
 
 Before the time of jEschylus, the Grecian stage had 
 scarcely emerged from its primitive state of simplicity. 
 It is a circumstance well known, that the Grecian drama 
 derived its origin from the different species of choral 
 songs at the Dionysian festivals. The dithyrambic, or 
 serious chorus, gave birth to tragedy, tlie burlesque cho- 
 rus to comedy. The commencement, however, was ne- 
 cessarily extremely rude. Their tragedies, atfirst, con- 
 sisted of a numerovis dithyrambic chorus, which was ac- 
 companied by noisy music, sung in rapid lyric measures. 
 This exertion on the part of the chorus was found to be 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 extremely fatiguing, and In order to give it relief, Thcs- 
 fiis, the first reformer of the stage, during the lime of 
 Solon, assigned pauses to the chorus, and, during these 
 intervals, a person appeared upon the stage, and declaim- 
 ed in soliloquy. This was the first attempt to soparaf- 
 the narrative of action from the chorus. The next and 
 most important improvements M'ere made by jEschylus, 
 of which Horace gives this account: 
 
 persons pallseque repertor honcstjc, 
 
 .ffiscliylU8, et modicis insti-avit pulpita tij^nis. 
 
 HoRAT. De Art. Foet. 278, 279. 
 
 Instead of the soliloquy, he introduced a dialogue of tws 
 persons, who were clothed in a manner suitable to their 
 respective characters, {Aristot. Poet. c. 4.) ; and, on this 
 account, he may be considered, in some measure, as the 
 inventor of an appropriate ajijiaratus scenicus. But the 
 chorus still continued to constitute the principal part of 
 the drama, until iEschylus introduced another improve- 
 ment, by making the chorus subordinate to the dialogue, 
 and permitting the former merely to fill up the intervals, 
 by singing a train of reflections upon the actioir repre- 
 sented. 
 
 ./Eschylus appears to have paid as much attention to 
 theatrical decorations, and to all that is requisite to pro- 
 duce stage-effect, as to the study and preparation of his 
 dramatic pieces. Vitruvius (lib. vii.) mentions, that Aga- 
 tharchus, at the desire of jEschylus, first constructed a 
 proper stage at Athens, for the better representation of 
 his tragedies. 
 
 He is said to have composed 80 or 90 tragedies, of 
 which seven only are extant. These tragedies, accord- 
 ing to the judgment of all ancient and modern critics, 
 are distinguished by an uncommon grandeur of style 
 and loftiness of thought. Phiynichus calls him " 7-*i» 
 r^a,ykii,m fA.iya,h<iipw\tna.Tm ;" Horace says, 
 
 £f docuit magnumque logui, nitique cothiiriw. 
 
 De Art. Poet. 280. 
 
 And Quinctilian criticises him as " Subli?nis et gravis, et , 
 grandiloyuus sxfie usque ad vilium." {Instil. Orat. lib. 
 10.) His style, indeed, is exceedingly energetic, and 
 his works abound in bold and unusual metaphors. His 
 tragedies, in respect to plan, are extremely simple. 
 There is little action or plot ; and every thing is brought 
 about in the most common and natural manner. He ex- 
 hibits only great characters, and seems to wish rather 
 to excite horror and admiration, than to call forth the 
 milder emotions. The Greek scholiasts relate some 
 smgular stories concerning the effects produced upon 
 the spectators, by the representation of certain parts of 
 his tragedies. Among other things we are told, that at 
 the first representation of his Eumenides, several chil- 
 dren were thrown into fits, and died of terror ; and 
 that some women were so violently agitated, " ut ijisas 
 oportuerit in ipso theatro parere." 
 
 Our limits will not permit us to enter upon an ana- 
 lysis of each of the tragedies of this author. The charac- 
 ter of Prometheus, ui the piece which bears that name, 
 is strongly drawn, as is likewise that of Eteocles, in 
 " The Seven Heroes of Thebes." The speech of Cas- 
 sandra, in his tragedy of Agamemnon, is said to have 
 been considered by the ancients as his chrf-d'suvrc. 
 
 The modesty of .^schylus seems to have been equal 
 
 to his merit. He called his tragedies, " Fragments 
 
 from the splendid Banquets of Homer," (Athen. lib. 
 
 viii. ;) and if his epitaph was really written by himself, 
 
 Y
 
 170 
 
 ^SO 
 
 us Athenaeus asserts, (lib. xiv.,) lie considered it as 
 more glorious to have contributed to the victory at Mara- 
 thon, than to have excelled others by the superiority of 
 his genius. 
 
 An admirable edition of the tragedies of .(Eschylus 
 was printed at Glasgow in 1794, under the direction of 
 the lute learned Mr Person, who has doiie more than 
 any other editor to restore the text of jEschylus. Ano- 
 ther excellent edition appeared in 18U5 at Leipsic, 
 with annotations by Fred. H. Bothe of Magdeburg, (z) 
 
 ..ESCHYNOMENE, or the bastard sensitive plant, 
 a genus of plants of the class Diadelphia, and order Dc- 
 candria. See Botany, (w) 
 
 jESCULAPIUS, the son of Apollo and the nymph 
 Coronis, was worshipped by the heathens as the god of 
 physic, on account of his wonderful discoveries in that 
 science. He is said to have received his medical know- 
 ledge from the centaur Chiron, who had the charge of 
 his education, and who intrusted him with the secrets 
 of his art. He at last became so skilful in his profes- 
 sion, that he is believed to have raised many from the 
 dead. But Pluto, complaining to Jupiter of the diminu- 
 tion of his empire, from the numerous cures of ^scu- 
 lapius, Jupiter struck him with a thunderbolt, and hurl- 
 ed iiim down to the infernal regions. His father Apollo, 
 however, revenged his death, by killing, with his ar- 
 rows, the Cyclops who had forged the thunderbolts. 
 His chief temple was at Epidaur\i3, where he was wor- 
 shipped under the form of a serpent; that animal being 
 reckoned medicinal in many diseases. He was also re- 
 presented as an old man with a long beard, dressed in a 
 loose robe, and holding in his left hand a rustic staff, en- 
 twined with serpents. The Epidaurians instituted games 
 in honour of jEsculapius, which were celebrated every 
 five years. He had also a temple in an island at the 
 mouth of the Tiber, which the Romans built to receive 
 his statue ; which, by the advice of the oracle, they 
 brought from Epidaurus, to allay a dreadful pestilence 
 that was raging in the city. jEsculapius is said to have 
 communicated the secrets of his art, which he received 
 from Chiron, to his two sons, who, with their descend- 
 ants, followed the profession of their father. See jPau- 
 san. ii. cap. 11. and 27. ; vii. cap. 23. Valer. Max. i. cap. 
 S. Ck. de A/at. Deor. iii. cap. 22. (/;) 
 
 iESCULUS, or horse-chesnut, a genus of plants of 
 the class Heptandria, and order Monogynia. See Bota- 
 ny, (to) 
 
 jESOP, the famous fabulist, was born at Cotyaeum in 
 Phrygia, in the condition of a slave, and flourished about 
 570 years before the Christian era. He is described by 
 many authors as having a dinainutive stature, a deform- 
 ed person, and a distorted countenance. But this is one 
 of the many fictions which are confidently ascribed to 
 Planudes, an eastern monk, who wrote a romantic life of 
 jEsop in the fourteenth century, and whose relation has 
 been followed by moderns for want of better information. 
 Herodotus seems ratlier to be of an opposite opinion ; 
 for he speaks of many idle stories, which were pre- 
 valent in his time, concerning ^sop, but to which he 
 paid no regard. Indeed all that we know of him con- 
 sists merely in probabilities, collected from ancient his- 
 torians, .fisop remained in a state of servitude, till he 
 was well advanced in life ; and it was during this time, 
 we are told, that he composed his fables, as an allevia- 
 tion of the miseries of slavery. His first master, De- 
 marchus, who treated him rather harshly, and sent him 
 to labour in the fields, sold him to Xanthus, a Samian, 
 
 from whom he passed into the service of a philosopher, 
 named Idmon. Here he became acquainted wjtli the 
 famous courtesan Riiodcjpe, who was so delighted with 
 the liveliness of his conversation, and his excellent un- 
 derstandijig, tliat she prevailed upon lanioii to restore 
 him to liberty. Being now his own master, he travelled 
 over mostof the Grecian cities, improving himsell in the 
 language and sciences of the Greeks ; and instructmg 
 the ignorant, by sucn agreealjle and simple apologues as 
 could be understood by all. When at Atneiis, observing 
 how impatiently the Atiienians bore the usurpation of 
 Pisistratus, who had abolished the popular government, 
 he repeated to them his famous fable of the frogs, that 
 petitioned Jupiter for a king. The fame of his wisdom 
 having reached Croesus king of Lydia, this monarch in- 
 vited him to his court, where he was treated with that 
 distinction to which his great abilities entitled him. Af- 
 ter he had remained at Sardes a considerable time, he 
 went to Delphi, being deputed by Croesus to offer a splen- 
 did sacrifice to Apollo, and to distribute money among 
 the inhabitants. But a quarrel arising between him and 
 the Delphians, ^sop returned the money to Croesus, in- 
 forming him, that those for whom it was intended were 
 unworthy of his bounty. The people of Delphi were so 
 enraged at this proceeding, that they charged him with 
 sacrilege, and got him condemned to be thrown headlong 
 from the rock Hyampia. Immediately after this event, 
 the Delphians were visited with pestilence and famine ; 
 which they considered as a punishment for their injustice 
 to jEsop, and from which they could not be rescued, un- 
 til they had made satisfaction for his death. 
 
 .£sop, in his disposition, was lively and agreeable ; 
 and his understanding was clear and acute. The sal- 
 lies of wit, which continually enlivened his conversation, 
 and his humorous manners, delighted all who heard him. 
 But, in his behaviour, he was more of a courtier than a 
 philosopher. That pliancy of disposition which he had 
 acquired when a slave, and which he retained when 
 free, fitted him better for the fawning affability of the 
 former, than the stern dignity of the latter. Happening 
 to be at Sardes at the same time with Solon, and though 
 displeased at the uncivil treatment which Solon re- 
 ceived, yet he was much dissatisfied at the mortifying 
 indifference with which that philosopher viewed the 
 treasures of Croesus, and told him, " that we should ei- 
 ther not come near kings, or speak what was agreeable 
 to them." " Say rather," replied Solon, " that we should 
 never come near them at all, or speak such things as 
 may be for their good." 
 
 That the collection of fables, which bears his name, 
 was written by him, is an opinion which is now generally- 
 exploded ; and though we learn from Aristophanes, {in 
 avibus, V. 387, sJ" AiFuvat ^£t*tw«?,) that a collection 
 of his fables then existed, yet we are inclined to believe 
 that he did not commit any of them to writing, but 
 merely recited them upon particular occasions ; and 
 that they were for some time preserved by oral tradi- 
 tion. 
 
 The great variety of style which is to be found in this 
 collection, leads us also to suspect that they cannot have 
 proceeded from the same author. Yet some of them 
 bear evident marks of antiquity. A wonderful sim- 
 plicity of expression, and a delightful blending of the 
 agreeable with the useful, captivate and instruct the rea- 
 der. Simplicity of thought, and purity of sentiment, 
 seem to be the characteristics of his fables ; and he is 
 allowed on all hands to have been a master in this spe-
 
 iETH 
 
 yETH 
 
 171 
 
 cies of instruction. So famed were these compositions 
 among the ancients, that Socrates is said to have trans- 
 lated them into verse a little before his death ; and Pla- 
 to wished that children might suck them in with their 
 milk, in order to be trained up to wisdom and virtue. 
 
 The earliest cdhion of jEsop's fables is that of Milan, 
 published by Bonus Accursius, without a date, but, ac- 
 cording to Lessing, in 1478 ; which he thinks the more 
 probable, as it is printed in the very same style as Las- 
 cari's Grammatica of that year. Hudson's edition was 
 published at Oxford, 1718, under the feigned name of 
 Mariiuiuiiyirom St Mary's Hall, Oxford, of which he was 
 principal. See Rollin, v. ii. p. 380. Baylc. Phtedrus, 
 lib. 1. fab. 2. Herodotus, lib. 2. Flut. In Solon. Quinc- 
 tilian, lib. v. c. 12. {fi) 
 
 .lESOP, Ci.oDius, a celebrated Roman tragedian, who 
 was contemporary with Cicero, and lived about the year 
 79 A. C. Valerius Maximus, in one passage, seems to 
 say, that he was also a comic actor ; but it is rather pro- 
 bable that he means an actor in the general sense of the 
 word. According to Plutarch, Cicero being solicitous 
 of acquiring a knowledge of gesture, received instruc- 
 tions from iisop, as well as from Roscius, the famous 
 comedian. We are informed, by the same author, that 
 .fisop was so completely absorbed in the character which 
 he represented, that, when studying how to be revenged 
 on Thycstes, while he was performing the character of 
 Atrcus, he smote an attendant with his truncheon, who 
 was accidentally crossing the stage, and laid him dead at 
 his feet. ./Esop was a rare instance of a combination of 
 frugality and extravagance. Notwithstanding his ex- 
 treme luxury and voluptuousness, he kept within the 
 bounds of his income, and amassed immense wealth. 
 Pliny informs us, that certain singing birds, imitating the 
 human voice, were served up at his table, each of them 
 being valued at a sum equivalent to 50 guineas of our 
 money. 
 
 jEsop had a son no less luxurious and profuse ; who, 
 according to Horace, Pliny, and Valerius Maximus, dis- 
 solved pearls in vinegar, and gave the solution to his 
 guests to drink. See Pliny, lib. ix. cap. 35. and x. cap. 
 51. Valerius Maximus, lib. viii. and i-^. Horace Efiist.Vih. 
 ii. V. 82. Sat. iii. v. 239. Macrobius's Saturnalia, lib. 
 ii. Tcrtullian de Pallio. Quinctilian. lib. xi. cap. 3. (c) 
 
 iE.THER,from the verb «i6ia, to burn and shine, Ae.- 
 T\otes,m ancient fihysics, that subtile lambent fluid, which 
 was supposed to circulate above the region of our at- 
 mosphere, and to fill the whole of the celestial space. 
 
 The cosmological systems of antiquity, however im- 
 perfect in their composition, were the offspring of a bold 
 and vigorous fancy. Nothing, unfortunately, now re- 
 mains of those airy speculations but a few scattered 
 ■wrecks. Formed in the shade of retirement, and impart- 
 ed under the seal of mystery, the loose fragments have, 
 in the course of ages, been miserably disfigured by the 
 conceit and ignorance of grammatical expounders. Yet, 
 amidst the darkness which envelops those ruins, we are 
 struck with some gleams of just and happy conception. 
 The physical notions of the ancients tinctured the whole 
 of their philosophy, became intimately blended with their 
 elegant mythology, and finally gave spirit and colouring 
 to their poetical descriptions. The influence of those 
 opinions has extended itself even to our own times. It 
 
 is visible in the contexture of our philosophical theories, 
 and it still continues to enliven the language of poetiy, 
 which fondly retains, and seeks to perpetuate the ear- 
 liest impressions. A liberal curiosity would therefore 
 prompt us to survey the disjointed fragments with a 
 critical eye, and to endeavour, by the light of modern 
 science, to restore what appears really valuable of the 
 original edifice. In some future articles wc may per- 
 haps attempt to illustrate the subject of ancient physics ; 
 but for the present we shall confine our views to a par- 
 tial and rapid sketch. 
 
 The sages of ancient Greece resolved all bodies into 
 four primary elements. Earth, Water, Air, and Fire ; 
 which, in their natural state, were conceived to hold the 
 same order of arrangement ; earth being the lowest, and 
 fire occupying the highest place in the universe. To 
 these were likewise ascribed, respectively, the qualities 
 of dry and wet, of cold and hot. The Stoics considered 
 earth and water as naturally heavy, and air and fire light ; 
 but the Epicureans, who, in objects of science at least, 
 entertained much sounder notions than the other sects 
 of philosophers, contended, that all matter is essentially 
 ponderable, though in difl'ercnt degrees; and that air 
 and fire mount upwards, only in consequence of their in- 
 ferior relative gravity. Empedocles imagined, that all 
 the various modifications of those elements were pro- 
 duced by the operation of two original principles, which 
 he termed (piXix, and veiko?, or lox<c and strife ; the one 
 tending to unite, and the other to separate, and therefore 
 corresponding nearly to our attraction and repulsion. 
 Some philosophers attempting a farther simplification, 
 have sought to reduce the several elements into one. 
 Thus, Heraclitus and Hippasus made fire the original 
 of all things. The universe, they said, arose out of fire 
 and will terminate in fire. According to them, the 
 grosser parts of that element, by conglomerating, form- 
 ed earth, which, by the force of fire, gave out water j 
 and this again exhaling, generated air. 
 
 iEther was generally considered as only fire in its 
 most dilute attenuated form. It was believed to consti- 
 tute the highest heavens, and to revolve continually 
 about our globe. Hence the expression used by Mil- 
 ton, the most learned of all our poets, " the flaming bar- 
 riers of the world;" corresponding to ihc flammantia 
 mania inimdi of Lucretius. The same idea is more ex- 
 panded by Manilius ; 
 
 Ignis in pctliei-lcis volucer se siistulit eras : 
 Simimaque complexus stellanlis culmina coeli, 
 Flammavum vallo naturs mosnia fecit. 
 
 This uniform circular motion, so placid and soft, was 
 esteemed a sort of eternal repose, and therefore believ- 
 ed to imply a divine and immortal nature. In allusion 
 to that opinion. Homer says, ^fc-^i-f^at; 5r2f , and aiSe^oi 
 ixS'itif, i thus making .tther feminine, as embracing and 
 containing the universe. Heraclitus defined the Deity 
 "the invisible circulating fire," ro Tri^ioS'ix.ev ttZ^ x'ii'iov. 
 And Hippocratus, the father of medicine, proceeds far- 
 ther : " It seems to me," he says, " that what we call 
 nvarmth is immortal; knows all things, and sees, hears, 
 and discerns whatever is or will exist."* These fine 
 conceptions are well expressed by Cicero : " Video su- 
 blime fusum immoderatum tethera. Qui terram tencro 
 
 tTtfiai, 
 
 Y 3
 
 17^ 
 
 ETHEB. 
 
 held tne divine nature oi aellicr to be absolutely incom- 
 patible with any disposition to change, and ihereiore re- 
 garded that substance as a certain tilth immutable prin- 
 ciple, ■zj-e/AZs-'lov Ti B-afix aitt^ict u/itTaS^tilty. ilence the 
 term <jitinicssc7tce, 6o lamous once in the schools. 
 
 The Pythagoreans believed, that our atmosphere ex- 
 tends to the nioon ; that the air, which surrounds the 
 earth, is inert and morbid, liable to vicissitude and cor- 
 ruption ; but that the higher portions oi' asther are con- 
 tinually hi motion, pure and salubrious, and the sacred 
 abodes of immortality ; because warmth, the source of 
 life, prevails in these resplendent regions. t Below the 
 moon, every thing is mortal and transient, except the 
 human miiid. '■'■ Infra aut em cam," says Cicero, ^'^ nihil 
 eat Ttiai mortale et caducum, /irxter a?iiinoa tnunere deorum 
 Iwminum gcneri datos ; su/ira lunam sunt cctema omnia." 
 Such is the origin of an expression of singular beauty, 
 though now debased by vulgar use, — this sublunary 
 scene. 
 
 In the language of ancient mythology, athcr was sy- 
 nonymous with Jupiter, as air corresponded to Juno ; 
 and the combined influence of heat, air, and moisture, in 
 promoting vegetation, has been finely described by 
 Virgil : 
 
 Turn Pater Omnipotens fecuiidis imbribus sther 
 Coiijugis in gremium laetje descemlit et omnes 
 Magnus alit magno commixtus corpore fcctus. 
 
 Geoig. ii. 324, &c. 
 
 Such were the opmions commonly held by the ancient 
 philosophers respecting the nature of aether. The heat, 
 however, which it displays, was sometimes considered 
 as merely an accidental quality, excited in the fluid by 
 the extrenic rapidity of its circumvolution. Others 
 were inclined to believe, that the aetherial expanse had 
 been inflamed by its vicinity to the sun, the great foun- 
 tain of light and heat. 
 
 The Pythagoreans, led by a gross analogy, viewed the 
 world as one vast animal of a hot and fiery temperament ; 
 and thence concluded, that a void space must necessari- 
 ly exist beyond it to give room for breathing, and to re- 
 ceiye its expirations, as-/' atctTriuv to» xec-fio. This strange 
 fancy was likewise adopted by Aristotle. But the lam- 
 bent fluid of aether, ui a state of extreme tenuity, was 
 believed to be diffused through tlie vacuum. 
 
 After all, may it not be fairly questioned, if those mo- 
 dern philosophers have reasoned better, who, at this 
 advanced period, have laboured to revive the doctrine of 
 aether, and have ascribed to that ideal substance still 
 more extensive and more imaginary powers ? It is cu- 
 rious to mark the relapses of natural science. Those 
 aberrations have, in general, proceeded from unwise at- 
 tempts to reconcile the primary indications of the senses 
 with the results of matured reflection. Newton had ex 
 ploded the vortices of Descartes, had revived the vacuum 
 of Epicurus, and triumphantly established the system of 
 universal attraction. Nothing seemed then wanting but 
 to follow out the consequences of that simple and origi- 
 nal fact. To countenance the supposition of visionary- 
 agents, was to desert the very first principles of induc- 
 
 * Imitated or translated from Euripides: 'Of«5 ^o* u'Pa Tor J'f avu^at aid^a xj yjjn ;rffi| f^^vS' vy^ccn ti <»yx<tA«i5 ; Tj/?»» 
 ys/j-il^i i^!;»« Tav S' ijys dot. 
 
 t Ton T£ zri^i T>!V yni »i^tt, xj «c-£/(rTov. y^ voo-c^cv, :^ zr«v7« tx it avlco 9^>>T». Tov ^i ccvulxja, aiixinlof iiictt, >^ xmSu- 
 f»», xj uy/«, J^ iTxilci T« £V ttvla, aSctixlit, i^ ritro ^uit. Zvix^xTei yatj t» BtqfMi ti cfJleii otti^ tFTi ^tttii icitii).*— 
 i'LUTARCH- Be Placitis Philosophorum. 
 
 circumjeclti am^ilectilur V Hunc nummum habeto divum, 
 hunc furhibeto Jovem."* De Nat. Deorum, ii. .(Ether 
 was not only held to be divine, but regarded as the prin- 
 ciple of life, and the spring of action. Tlie human soul 
 itself was deemed " a vital spark of heavenly flame," 
 and was believed to requu-e a long course of purgation 
 in the shades below, to expel the impurities contracted 
 upon earth, and restore it to the brightness of its celes- 
 tial origin. 
 
 Donee longa dies, perfecto tempovis orbi, 
 Coiicretam eseniit labem, purumque reliqnit 
 jEtheieuni seiisun), atque aurai simplicls ignem, 
 
 ^N vi. r45, &c. 
 
 It was imagined that the stars roll or swim in aether, 
 and that the gods themselves inhabit that blessed region. 
 The divinity of Epicurus, seated on his " empyreal 
 throne, far above the din and stir of this sin-worn mould," 
 enjoys, beyond the bounds of our clouded atmosphere, 
 a perpetual calm; and, absoibed in the delights of un- 
 ceasing fruition, remains a careless and indifl'crent spec- 
 tator of the toils and anxieties which agitate unhappy 
 mortals. 
 
 Apparet Dlvum numen sedesque quietac : 
 Qiias iieque concutiunt venti. neqiie nubila nimbis 
 Adspei'gunt, neque nix sicii concreta pniina 
 Caiia cadens viul.it ; sempeique ijinubilub ttlier 
 Integit, et large difTuso lumine riilel. 
 
 LucRET. lib. ill. v. 18. 
 
 Gmnis ejiim per se divum natura neccsse est 
 Inimoitali avo summa cum pace fru.i.tur 
 Semota ab nostris rebus, sejunctaqiie longe ; 
 Xam pilvata dolove omni, priv-ita pe;-icli 
 Ipsti suis poll T.s opibiis, niiiil indiga nostri 
 Ncc bene piomeritis capitur, nee tangitur ira. 
 
 Id. lib. i. V. 57. 
 
 Pythagoras held, that aether, or the pure portion of fire» 
 really constituted a distinct element, and that from their 
 jouit operation, tiiis universal frame arose. Empedoclcs 
 thought, that aether was first separated, next fire, and 
 then earlh ; and that, this being compressed by violent 
 circumagitation, water was made to boil out of it, and the 
 exhalation of the water lastly formed air. 
 
 -Per rara foramina terrs 
 
 Parlibus eiumpens primus se sustulit sether 
 Signifer, et multos secum levis abstulit ignes. 
 
 Id. lib. v. 
 
 The grosser particles of fire, collecting into a mass, were 
 imagined to produce the sun, while the various conglo- 
 bations of the diffused aether were supposed to form the 
 celestial bodies. Manilius beautifully describes that ra- 
 diant fluid, studding the heavens with gems : 
 
 Primum candidus aether 
 
 Astrigeranifaciem nitido gemmavit Olympo. 
 
 The sun is called, in the hymn of Orpheus, the heaven- 
 ly light, Sfavfov (puii and the light of life, (^ar,i ipui. 
 
 In every hypothesis, the four elements are considered 
 as passive, and subject to transmutation. But Aristotle
 
 7ETJS 
 
 ^ETN 
 
 173 
 
 live philosopliy. The delusion has become contagious, 
 and il IS high time to resist the progress of such crude 
 opinions. Are the phantoms ol certain chemical ex- 
 perimentalists at all more specious or seductive than the 
 dreams of tlicir predecessors, tjie ancient cosaiologists ? 
 On some other occasion, we propose to resume the dis- 
 cussion ; meanwhile we shall conclude with an extract 
 from professsor Leslie's celebrated work on Heat ; — 
 
 " It is a remarltable and instructive fact, in the history 
 of philosophy, that impulsion should have been at one 
 period the only force that was admitted. The motion of 
 a falling stone was certainly not less familiar to the 
 senses than that of a stone that was thrown : but, in the 
 latter case, the contact of the hand was observed to pre- 
 cede the flight of the projectile, and this circumstance 
 seemed to fill up tlie void, and satisfy the imagination. 
 Gravitation sounded like an occult quality ; it was neces- 
 sary to assign some mechanical cause, and if there were 
 invisible impulses to account for the weight of a body, 
 might not that office be performed by some subtile invi- 
 sible agent ? Such was the sway of metaphysical pre- 
 judice, that even Newton, forgetting his usual caution, 
 suffered himself to be borne along. In an evil hour, he 
 threw out those hasty conjectures concerning aetlier, 
 which have since proved so alluring to superficial think- 
 
 ers, and which have, in a very sensible degree, impeded 
 the progress of genuine science. So far from resolving 
 weight or pressure into impulse, we have seen, that the 
 very reverse takes place ; and that impulse itself is only 
 a modification of pressure. This statement has already 
 some distinguished adherents, and must, in time, become 
 the received opinion. Science has experienced nmch 
 obstruction from the mysterious notions long tnlertained 
 concerning causation."— P. 135, 136. See Air, Atmos- 
 phere, Fire, Fluid, Heat, Physics, Vacuum, (x) 
 
 jETHUSA, a genus of plants of the class Pentandria, 
 and ordei Digynia. See Botany, (w) 
 
 AETIANS, in Ecclesiastical History, a sect that 
 sprang up about the middle of the fourth century, and 
 whose creed very much resembled that of the modern 
 Socinians. Aetius, their founder, was a native of An- 
 tioch ; and, as some say, originally a physician. He 
 was accounted a man of excellent understanding, and 
 great acuteness, skilled in logic, as well as acquainted 
 with other branches of science. Because he disputed 
 with subtility concerning the nature of God, his enemies 
 branded him with the name oi atheist. He was severe- 
 ly persecuted by Conslantius, and died, not long after, at 
 Constantinople. («) 
 
 J^TNA. 
 
 Called by the people in its neighbourhood Monte Gibcl- 
 l(j, is situated on the eastern side of Sicily, in a district 
 which the superstitious fears of the inhabitants have de- 
 nominated Vat de Denione. 
 
 Various conjectures have been formed respecting the 
 origin of the name jEtna. In the Itineraries it is usually 
 written JEthana. Hence some, who are anxious to de- 
 I'ive every term from a Greek or Hebrew extraction, 
 trace its origin from ccihti, to bum, or the Hebrew Atha- 
 na, a furnace, or darkness. But whatever may be the 
 origin of tlie name, it is certain that this mountain has 
 for many ages attracted the notice of mankind. Its im- 
 mense size and elevation, the beauty and magnificence 
 of the surrounding scenery, and the terrific grandeur of 
 the convulsions and changes to which it is subject, have 
 afforded matter of description both to the poet and his- 
 torian. Here, according to ancient mythology, were 
 erected the forges of the Cyclops, where, under the di- 
 rection of Vulcan, they prepared the thunder-bolts of 
 Jupiter. Here was raised a temple to Vulcan himself, 
 where, as in that of Vesta, the fire never ceased to burn ; 
 and here the giant Enceladus was condemned by Jupiter 
 to expiate his impious rebellion, by perpetual imprison- 
 ment. 
 
 This mountain, when viewed at a distance, presents 
 the appearance of an obtuse truncated cone extended at 
 the base, and terminating in a bifurcated vertex, i. e. in 
 two eminences at a considerable distance from each 
 other. Upon approaching nearer, the traveller is sur- 
 prised and astonished at the wild, grotesque appearance 
 of the whole mountain ; while he is delighted, at the 
 same time, by the pleasing variety exhibited on particu- 
 lar parts of its surface. Over the whole of the immense 
 declivity of jEtna, but especially in the lower region, he 
 beholds innumerable eminences, or small conical hills, 
 gently rising from its surface, covered with rich verdure 
 and beautiful trees, and adorned with to'wns, villages, 
 
 scattered hamlets, and monasteries. As his eye ascends, 
 he discovers an immense forest of oaks and pines, sur- 
 rounding the mountain on every side, and forming a 
 zone of beautiful green round its middle. Next appears 
 the hoary head of the mountain itself, boldly projecting 
 into the clouds, and covered with eternal snow. 
 
 These general characters, so distinctly impressed 
 upon the different parts of its surface, have induced 
 travellers to divide jEtna into three regions, viz. // Jie- 
 gione Culta., the fertile region ; // Reglone Sylvosa, the 
 woody region ; and // Regioiie Deserta, the barren 
 region. Nor are these regions less distinguished by 
 their temperature, than by their external appearance. 
 The traveller, faint and oppressed by the sultry heat of 
 the Regione Picdmontese, escapes with delight, we arc 
 told, into the shade of the woods, where the air is cool 
 and refreshing ; but upon emerging from the forests, 
 the temperature rapidly declines ; and to all the dangers 
 and difficulties attending his journey to the summit, 
 must be added, the inconvenience arising from the pierc- 
 ing coldness of the air, and the chilling blasts from the 
 south, to which these higher regions are constantly ex- 
 posed. Hence, some have been led to distinguish those 
 distinct portions of the surface of iEtna, by the names of 
 Torrid, Temperate, and Frigid Zones. 
 
 In presenting to our readers an account of whatever 
 may deserve farther notice in the external appearance of 
 jEtna, we shall adopt the common division, and begin 
 with stating the particulars related by travellers respect- 
 ing the lower region, or Regione Cidta. 
 
 In ascending Mount jEtna, it is usual to begin the 
 journey on the south side, near the city of Catania. 
 From this place to the mouth of the great crater, the 
 distance is supposed to be nearly 10 leagues, or 30 
 miles. Of this ascent, about 15 miles are allotted for 
 the breadth of the first zone, or Regione Culta The 
 circumference of this region, according to Recupero, is
 
 174 
 
 ^TNA. 
 
 183 miles ; and its surface, by the calculation of Buffon, 
 exceeds 220 square leagues. It is bounded by tlie sea 
 to the south and soulh-easi, and on all Us other sides by 
 the rivers Scnietus and Alcantara. 
 
 The circumstance tliat generally attracts the attention 
 of the traveller, in passing through this region, is the 
 remarkable inequality of its suriace, occatiioned by tlie 
 immense number and variety of conical hills which rise 
 around him on every side. They are generally about 
 two or three miles in circuit, and from 30u to 400 feet m 
 height. Were the external appearance of these nills 
 (each of which has a cup or small crater) and tneir prox- 
 imity to the great gult, not sufficient to demonstrate 
 their volcanic origin, we are happily iunushcd with a 
 direct experiment in the case of the loniuition of one of 
 them, viz. Monte Rosso, which must remove every 
 doubt respecting this point. In the year 1669, this hill 
 was seen to rse in the midst ol a plain, and to uiscnarge 
 from its vertex a dreadful torrent ol lava, which ilowed 
 as far as the sea, and formed a kind of promontory. 
 
 The uncommon fertjliiy of the soil of this region, the 
 richness of the pasture grounds, and the luxuriance of 
 the vines and other fruit-trees, have, from the earliest 
 times, afforded matter of panegyric to the traveller and 
 historian. On this subject, Strabo, Fazello, and all who 
 have visited jEtna, unite their testimony, and agree at 
 the same time in ascribing this superior fertility to the 
 decomposition of the lava. This rich scenery is some- 
 times beautifully diversified, by the lava appearing above 
 the soil, in the form of craggy euiinences. Even where 
 the lava is not uncovered, the soil in some places is so 
 shallow, that the roots of trees, unable to penetrate the 
 hard rock, extend their fibres horizontally, and are seen 
 creeping along the surface. It must be peculiarly in- 
 teresting to a traveller in this region, to reflect that he 
 is now treading on the I'uins of extinguished volcanoes, 
 and to behold cheerful cottages and thriving towns situ- 
 ated in those very hollows whence the destructive fire 
 formerly issued. No fewer than 77 cities, towns, and vil- 
 lages, are said to be scattered over the sides of iEtna ; 
 and the whole population is calculated to be 100,000 
 persons. 
 
 As those who have visited .(Etna have taken nearly the 
 same route, they have in general selected the same sta- 
 tions for halting. In the first region, two resting places 
 are particularly noticed, viz. J^icoloai, and St J^icco/o 
 dell' Arena. 
 
 Nicolosi was formerly a convent belonging to the Be- 
 nedictine friars of Catania. It is now a place of enter- 
 tainment for travellers. Here a solitary brother resides, 
 to take care of the house, and superintend the cultiva- 
 tion of the neighbouring fields. According to Brydone, 
 this station is twelve miles up the mountain, and, by 
 Houcl's calculation, 2496 feet above the level of the sea. 
 The air here is remarkably pure ; but the progress of 
 vegetation is less rapid than in the plain below ; for, as 
 Brydone informs us, the corn is often green at Nicolosi, 
 when the harvest is overat Catania. 
 
 From Nicolosi, travellers usually make a short excur- 
 sion to Monte Hosso, or the Red Mountain, so called 
 from the red colour which appears on some parts of its 
 surface. The origin of this mountain, as we fomierly 
 observed, is sufficiently ascertained. The approach to 
 it is through a deep bed of black sand, which completely 
 envelops the base of the mountain, and is about two 
 miles in breadth. This sand is the sad remains of the 
 dreadful £ruption of 1669, which gave birth to this hill, 
 
 and buried in ruins the flourishing vineyards and riclr 
 pastures in its neighbourhood, to the extent of 15 miles. 
 It is even said, that some of the finer particles of this 
 sand reached the opposite coast of Calabria. Autliors 
 disagree respecting the size of this hill. Boreili i» of 
 opinion, that its circumierence at the base docs not ex- 
 ceed two miles, anu its perpendicuiar height 150 paces ; 
 whereas sir W. Hamilton allows one mile lor the lieignt*. 
 and three miles for the circuit. It has a number of 
 mouths or craters, all of which have externally the 
 shape of a funi.el or mutilated cone. M. Houel went 
 down into one of these openings with torches, but could 
 not reach the bottom, behig compelled to return by the 
 severity of the cold. 
 
 After visiting Monie Rosso, the traveller proceeds oa 
 his journey, and soon arrives at St J\ficcolo deW Arena, an 
 ancient edifice, which formerly belonged to the Bene- 
 dictine friars. Here are seen mnumerable monuments 
 and inscriptions, which record the history of lormer 
 ruins particularly the eruption of 1669. After this dis- 
 astrous event, its original proprietors judged it expe- 
 dient to abandon this station, and sought a more secure 
 residence in the plain below. Few traces of these deso- 
 lations, however, remain to the present day. The black 
 sand thrown out in this memorable eruption, has for 
 many years been converted into vegetable earth, and is 
 now covered with extensive and thrivmg vineyards. In 
 this neighbourhood rises MontejiiUri, another of those 
 hills which diversify and adorn the sides of .£tna. It de- 
 serves notice merely on account of its peculiar shape, 
 and the circumstances which attended its formation- 
 It is of a spherical form, not exceeding 300 feet in height, 
 and about a mile in circuit. It is perfectly regular 
 on every side, and richly overspread with fruits and 
 flowers ; its crater is so completely hollowed out, as to 
 resemble a bowl in its internal structure. But what 
 renders this mountain chiefly remarkable, is, that from 
 the period of the eruption which produced it, we date 
 the ruin of the far-famed territory of Hybla ; which now 
 retains no traces of its former importance, except what 
 we may learn from the name Mel Passi; or from a few 
 verdant hillocks which spot the surface of fields of black 
 and rugged lava. 
 
 After leaving this hill, nothing occurs worthy of no- 
 tice, till we enter the Regione Syh<osa,w\rich begins about 
 three miles above this place. The woody region ex- 
 tends from eight to ten miles in a direct line towards 
 the top of the mountain. Its circumference is estimated 
 by Recupero at 70 or 80 miles, which will make its sur- 
 face about 40 or 45 square leagues. The first circum- 
 stance that attracts the attention of the traveller upon 
 entering this region, is an agreeable change of tempe- 
 rature, accompanied with the richest odours from aro- 
 matic plants. " Here," says Brydone, " we seemed to 
 have got into another world ; the air, which was before 
 sultry and hot, was now cool and refreshing ; and every 
 breeze was loaded with a thousand perfumes. Here we 
 behold the most delicious fruit rising from what was 
 lately a black and barren rock. Here the ground is co- 
 vered with every flower ; and we wander over these 
 beauties, and contemplate this wilderness of sweets, 
 without considering that hell, with all its terrors, is im- 
 mediately under our feet." 
 
 Nor is the traveller less struck with the grandeur and 
 magnificence of the surrounding scener)',than delighted 
 w ith its richness and gaiety. The verdure of the ma- 
 jestic forests of jEtna is more lively than »hat of other
 
 ^TNA. 
 
 175 
 
 countries, and the O'ees of whicli they consist arc of 
 greater height. The hawthorns are of an immense size, 
 the beeches appear like so many ramitied pillars, and 
 the tufted branches of the oak are impenetrable to the 
 rays of tlie sun. The eastern side of the mountain is 
 covered chieHy with chesnut trees, which, affording ex- 
 cellent materials for hoops, are cultivated with much 
 care by the inhabitants, as a valuable article of trade. 
 The roads on this side of iEtna are so rugged and pre- 
 cipitous, that few would undertake the journey, unless 
 prompted by curiosity to visit the celebrated chesnut 
 tree, where, according to fabulous report, the queen of 
 Spain, with her hundred attendants, found shelter from 
 a violent storm. 
 
 The site of this tree is remarkably picturesque, and 
 calculated to exhibit its immense size to the best advan- 
 tage. It stands upon a rising ground, and is surrounded 
 by an open pasture, which is bounded by woods and vine- 
 yards. According to Swinburne, it measures 196 feet 
 in circumference, at one inch above the ground. Its 
 height is of a corresponding magnitude ; though of late 
 years it has been considerably diminished, from an at- 
 tempt to increase its fruitfulness, by lopping its branches. 
 Its great trunk, before reaching the surface, separates 
 into hve great divisions, which gives it the appearance 
 of several trees growing together. With the view of 
 ascertaining how far this might be the case, Swinburne 
 and Recupero inform us, that they dug round it to a con- 
 siderable depth, and found all the stems uniting in one 
 great trunk. It is remarkable that none of these large 
 branches have bark in the inside. This circumstance 
 led M. Houel to conclude, that they once constituted one 
 large trunk, which being rent asunder, the divided 
 parts of the bark seeking to reunite, were bent inwards, 
 so as to form circular arcs, presenting the appearance 
 of so many separate trees. But this deficiency of the 
 bark in the inner side will be more easily explained, if 
 we only consider, that in the circular space formed by 
 these large branches, there are erected a hut and oven, 
 for the accommodation of those who collect its fruits ; 
 and that its inhabitants with the most thoughtless in- 
 gratitude, sometimes supply themselves with fuel from 
 the tree which protects them. This tree formerly be- 
 longed to St Agatha, but has lately been declared the 
 property of the crown. 
 
 After examining the chesnut tree, the traveller next 
 proceeds to the Snow Grotto ; and in his way thither 
 passes through a forest of pines, which is scarcely ac- 
 cessible on account of the rocks and precipices which 
 surround it. This grotto is situated in a mount named 
 Fennochio : it is merely an excavation in the rock, form- 
 ed by the waters carrying away a bed of pozzolana which 
 lay under the lava. The snow, driven by the winds 
 from the higher parts of the mountain, is stopped a little 
 above the cave, by a wall built for the purpose. It is 
 then thrown into the grotto, by two openings from above, 
 where a thick ceiling of lava completely protects it from 
 the summer heats. Before removing it from the cave, 
 it is first carefully wrapped up in leaves, and afterwards 
 forced hito large bags, and in this state is conveyed to 
 the shore on mules. This trade was chiefly carried 
 on by the knights of Malta, for the use of their own isl- 
 and. 
 
 From the snow cavern the traveller proceeds, in his 
 ascent, to the Giotto of the Goats, where he usually takes 
 shelter for the night. This cave seems to have been form- 
 ed, like the Snow Grotto, by the action of water upon a 
 
 bed of sand. It affords a safe retreat for the goats in 
 severe weather ; and hence obtains its name. It is sur- 
 rounded by stately oaks, the leavesof which arc employ- 
 ed by the weary traveller as abed ; while the wood sup- 
 plies him with fuel. This place, according to Saussure, 
 is about 5054 feet above the level of the sea. 
 
 Upon leaving the Grotto of the Goats, the wood begins 
 to open, and the whole scene gradually changes. The 
 tufted oaks, and branching chesnuls, whose umbrageous 
 foliage protected the traveller upon his entrance into the 
 woody region, from the violence of the mid-day sun, now 
 afibrd him but a feeble shelter from the piercing blasts 
 which descend from the higher regions. As he ascends, 
 the forest becomes thinner at every step, the trees ap- 
 pear scattered, and, at the same time, diminished in size 
 and beauty. Now only a few clumps of trees, and some 
 tufts of odoriferous herbs, are to be seen ; in a little time, 
 these also become thimier, and assume a withered and 
 stunted appearance. Soon after, he beholds the last ef- 
 forts of expiring vegetation, and passes into the region 
 of snow and sterility. 
 
 The Regione Dencrta, or Upper Zone of jEtna, reckon- 
 mg from the total disappearance of vegetation to the 
 verge of the great crater, includes a space of about 8 or 
 10 miles. The surface of this zone is for the most part 
 flat and even, presenting a dreary expanse of snow and 
 ice. In the midst of this desert, the lofty summit of the 
 mountain is descried at a distance, rearing its tremen- 
 dous head above the surrounding snows, and vomiting 
 out torrents of smoke. 
 
 The traveller has now passed over twenty miles of 
 ascent; but the most fatiguing and hazardous part of 
 his journey still remains. The gusts of wind common 
 to all elevated situations, are remarkable for their vio- 
 lence on the higher regions of iEtna. The traveller, 
 after struggling long against the chilling blasts, is often 
 obliged to lie down quite exhausted with fatigue ; but 
 is instantly roused to exertion, by reflecting upon the 
 fatal effects of resting in so inclement a situation. In 
 the commencement of his journey through this snowy 
 desert, while the ascent is gradual, and while the snow 
 still feels the softening efiecls of the sun's rays, he is 
 able to walk with tolerable ease and security ; in a little 
 time, however, the surface becomes hardened to such a 
 degree, as to appear one continued sheet of ice. On 
 some occasions, his progress is interrupted by currents 
 of melted snow, produced by some accidental increase 
 of temperature in particular parts of the mountain. In 
 consequence of this partial heating of the surface, pools 
 of water are often formed, which add considerably to the 
 hazards of the journey. As he approaches the great 
 crater, new difficulties occur : The sand and ashes which 
 were at first thinly spread over the surface of the hard- 
 ened snow, now cover it to a considerable depth ; and 
 are at the same time so loose, as to endanger the tra- 
 veller's being swallowed up at every step of his progress. 
 But the most formidable impediment to the progress of 
 adventurers, in this perilous journey, arises from the 
 sulphureous exhalations which are continually emitted 
 from the pores of the mountain, and which irritate the 
 lungs to such a degree as to produce incessant cough- 
 ing, and sometimes even threaten suffocation. Nor is 
 it by the exhalations from the sides of the mountain 
 merely that the traveller is annoyed, the thick clouds 
 of smoke which continually issue from the mouth of the 
 volcano, sometimes roll down its sides, and involve hira 
 in a destructive atmosphere. To add to the horrors of the
 
 176 
 
 ^TNA. 
 
 scene, he is at every instant alarmed by terrific sounds, 
 which seem to come from the centre of the mountain. 
 M. Houcl compares this noise to a discharge of cannon 
 in the wide abyss, whicli being reflected from various 
 caverns, produces reverberations of the most alarming 
 kind. If any thing be still wanting to add to the diffi- 
 culties and dangers of the journey, it is only necessary 
 to observe, that it is commonly performed during the 
 night. After taking a short repast, and slumbering for 
 a little on his bed of leaves, the traveller usually sets 
 out from the Grotto of the Goats a little before midnight, 
 in order that he may reach the summit of the mountain 
 before sunrise. About an hour before dawn, he arrives 
 at the ruins of an ancient structure, commonly called 
 the Philosopher's Tower. This is supposed by some to 
 have been built by the philosopher Empedocles for his 
 own acconmiodation, when studying the nature of mount 
 jEtna ; by others it is supposed to be the ruins of a tem- 
 ple of Vulcan ; while some imagine it to have been a 
 watch-tower built by the Nomians. M. Houel is of opi- 
 nion, that it is a modern structure ; neither the mate- 
 rials of which it consists, nor the mode of architecture, 
 bearing any resemblance to those of the Greeks or Ro- 
 mans. Here the traveller, sheltered from the fury of the 
 blasts, sits down to recruit his exhausted strength, and 
 finds leisure to examine the objects around him. The 
 forests below still appear like a black gulf encompass- 
 ing the mountain. The unclouded sky is faintly irra- 
 diated ; and the immense vault of the heavens appears 
 before him in awful majesty and splendour. The num- 
 ber of the stars seem increased, and their light appears 
 brighter than usual. The milky way, says Brydone, 
 like a pure flame, shoots across the heavens ; and the 
 meteors, called falling stars, seem as much elevated 
 above us, as when seen from the plain. 
 
 Warned by tlie first rays of the dawn, the traveller 
 hastily bids adieu to the Philosopher's Tower ; and, pro- 
 ceeding on his journey to the sumniit, soon arrives at 
 the foot of the great crater. This is a hill of an exact 
 conical figure, and rises equally on all sides. It is com- 
 posed solely of ashes and other burnt materials, thrown 
 out from the mouth of the crater. Its circumference, 
 according to Brydone, is not less than 10 miles ; and its 
 perpendicular height, according to sir William Hamil- 
 ton, is about I of a mile. This conical hill, if we credit 
 the accounts of the people of Catania, is but a recent 
 production. Before the year 1730, the mountain termi- 
 nated in an extensive plain, in the centre of which ap- 
 peared an immense opening, constituting the mouth of 
 the great gulf. 
 
 The traveller now exults in the near prospect of finish- 
 ing his toils, and joyfully anticipates the awful and sub- 
 lime scenery, presented on the top of the mountain. 
 But considerable fatigues still await him. The mountain 
 now becomes excessively steep, and the materials of 
 which it is composed are so loose, that he sinks at every 
 step, and is often compelled to throw himself flat on its 
 surface. By persevering, however, he is able to over- 
 come these difficulties, and perhaps arrives in time to 
 behold the most wonderful and sublime sight in nature. 
 A fiery radiance begins to appear behind the Italian 
 hills. The fleecy clouds are tinged with purple. The 
 atmosphere becomes strongly illuminated ; and reflect- 
 ing the rays of the sun, glows with a bright effulgence. 
 In a little while, the body of the sun is seen rising from 
 ihe ocean ; the highest top of jEtna catches the first 
 tremulous ray, while all below is dark and confused. 
 
 Tlie hills immediately below the highest peak arc illu- 
 minated, and the spectator seems as if seated in some 
 desert isle, in the midst of the watery waste. The ra- 
 diance is now rapidly difl'used. The forests seem a new 
 creation rising to the sight, and catching life and beauty 
 from every increasing beam. Now appear the extensive 
 plains of ALtna, with its towns, hamlets, and monaste- 
 ries ; the cities of Sicily, and its parched shores, with 
 the dashing waves and wide expanse of the ocean. On 
 the south are seen tlie hills of Camerata and Traponi ; 
 on the north, the mounts Pelegrino and Thermini, with 
 the celebrated Enna. Among these mountains, the 
 rivers appear like lines of glittering silver, winding their 
 course through rich and fertile fields, and washing the 
 walls of twenty cities. Tiie view on every side seems 
 boundless. On the north side are seen the islands of 
 Lipari, with their smoking summits, the Straits of Mes- 
 sina, and the coast of Calabria ; and on the south, Malta 
 is descried at a distance in the very edge of the horizon. 
 After dwelling upon these objects for some time, the 
 traveller next attempts to explore the secrets of the great 
 abyss. In the middle of the conical mountain formerly 
 described, appears a hollow of about three miles in cir- 
 ciUTjferencc. It goes shelving down from the top, pre- 
 senting the appearance of an inverted cone. Its depth 
 nearly corresponds to the height of the conical mountain. 
 The inside of this cup is crusted over with salts and sul- 
 phurs of different colours, and from different parts of its 
 surface issue volumes of sulphureous smoke, which be- 
 ing heavier than the surrounding air, instead of rising 
 immediately, on reaching the verge of the crater, roll 
 down the side of the mountain, and shoot off horizontally 
 in the direction of the wind, forming a large track in tlie 
 air. In the centre of this funnel is placed the mouth of 
 the unfathomable gulf, whence issue confused and aw- 
 ful sounds which increase in loudness on the eve of an 
 irruption. The inside of the crater, according to Bry- 
 done, is remarkably hot ; and the surface so soft and 
 loose, as to render it impossible to descend into it. M. 
 D'Orville, however, made a bold attempt to explore the 
 secrets of the awful abyss. Having fastened himself to 
 a rope, which several men held at a distance, he des- 
 cended to the very edge of the opening. Here he be- 
 held, in the middle of the gulf, a mass of matter, rising 
 in the shape of a cone, the height of which appeared to 
 be about 60 feet, and its circumference at the base near 
 600. Around this conical mass, small lambent flames 
 were seen to rise on every side, accompanied with a 
 noxious kind of vapour, and offensive smoke. This cir- 
 cumstance, together with the particular fonii of the mar- 
 gin, which is incrusted with a greenish kind of sulphur, 
 and pumice stone, prevented him from having a full view 
 of its internal structure ; while the appearance of a con- 
 siderable commotion on the opposite side of the gulf, at- 
 tended with an increased loudness of the noises, warned 
 him to escape to his companions. The account of the in- 
 side of the crater, given by Spallanzani, differs from this 
 in some particulars. According to him, the inner sides 
 of the crater, instead of terminating in the opening into 
 the gulf, lead to a plain, in the centre of which is a cir- 
 cular aperture. Within this cavity, he observed liquid 
 matter, rising and falling, and exhibiting all the appear- 
 ances of ebullition. In order to ascertain how far this 
 appearance was real, he informs us, that he threw down 
 large stones, both upon the bottom and boUing matter ; 
 and that the stones which fell on the bottom rebounded, 
 while those thrown into the aperture seemed as if they
 
 JiTNA. 
 
 1/ 
 
 had fallen upon tenacious pitch. Baron Ricdsdcl, who 
 visited the crater twenty years before Spallanzani, takes 
 no notice of this bottom. Indeed, he informs us, that, 
 upon throwing large stones into the crater, no sound was 
 returned ; but that he heard issuing from the gulf a noise, 
 similar to that of the waves of the sea when agitated by 
 a tempest. Sir William Hamilton describes the funnel 
 as terminating in a point. Mr Brydone gives nearly the 
 same account as M. D'Orville. IVI. Houel, who visited 
 the mountain in 1782, describes iEtna as having three em- 
 inences, and places the crater in the middle of them. 
 Fazello relates, that, in his time, a small conical hill rose 
 in the centre of the crater, forming the vertex of the 
 mountain ; and that after a terrible eruption it totally 
 disappeared. Strabo describes the summit of YEtna as 
 a level plain, having a smoky hill in its centre. Bembo 
 informs us, that he found two craters ; but was prevented 
 by the sr(ioke and vapours from examining their internal 
 structure. From all these accounts, it appears obvious 
 that the configuration of the crater is subject to frequent 
 changes. 
 
 A considerable diversity of opinion occurs in the state- 
 ments of travellers to jEtna, respecting other subjects 
 of perhaps trifling importance. Some represent the 
 smoke as rising with difficulty to the edge of the crater, 
 and then rolling down the sides of the mountain ; while 
 others describe it ascending perpendicularly to a great 
 height, and afterwards falling down in the form of white 
 flowers. Without questioning the accuracy of the ob- 
 servers, these accounts may easily be reconciled, by re- 
 flecting, that the smoke at different times may possess 
 different degrees of density, according to the nature of 
 substances from which it is derived ; and that the air may 
 vary considerably in its specific gravity, and thus be capa- 
 ble of supporting the smoke at different heights. 
 
 Nor have travellers differed less in describing the ef- 
 fects of the diminished pressure of the air on the summit 
 of ^tna. Some have complained of great difficulty in 
 respiration ; while others have declared, that, in this res- 
 pect, they felt no inconvenience whatever. That at cer- 
 tain heights the air becomes so much rarified as to pro- 
 duce difficulty in breathing, appears pretty obvious from 
 the accurate observations made by Saussure, in his tra- 
 vels on the Alps ; but it appears equally obvious from 
 tlic same evidence, that, on the highest point of jEtna, 
 no such effects ought to be produced. We must there- 
 fore reconcile the accounts, by ascribing the difference 
 of statement to a difference in the strength and habit of 
 body of the different travellers. 
 
 Authors disagree respecting another subject, where 
 it is not so easy to explain the origin of the difference. 
 Spallanzani observes, that jEtna has at all times been 
 very deficient in springs, and that the peasants are often 
 seen roaming over the hill in eveiy direction, in search 
 of water; while others state, that jEtna abounds with 
 fountains and rivers of great magnitude. Mr Brydone 
 describes several mtermittent springs, which flow during 
 the day, and stop during the night. Others describe 
 springs that emit a noxious vapour, salt springs, and 
 some whose waters are used for dyeing particular co- 
 lours. We are also told, that on the north side of the 
 snowy region, there are several lakes which never freeze. 
 M. Houel, in paiticular, relates, that streams of water 
 are seen issuing from the mountain at all heights, and 
 continue to flow even during the summer; nay, so high 
 does he rate the quantity of water found on the sides of 
 .£tna,asto suppose that the whole, if collected together, 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 would fill tlie channel of a river 36 feet liroad, and six 
 deep. He even finds considerable dilliculty in explain- 
 ing the source of so much water. He thinks, that the 
 clouds, and the melting of the snow, are inadequate to 
 the supply; and therefore ascribes this abundance of wa- 
 ter to the condensation of aqueous vapour, which he sup- 
 poses to be continually rising from the crater; water, ac- 
 cording to him, being an important agent in the produc- 
 tion of a volcano. We must therefore conclude, thai. 
 Spallanzani's observations are either limited, or inaccu- 
 rate. Perhaps a particular theory, which he seems to 
 have formed on this subject, may have misled him. Hav- 
 ing observed that there is a great scarcity of springs in 
 the islands of Lipari, he hastily concludes, that all volca- 
 nic countries are subject to the same inconvenience ; and 
 he explains it in this manner: — When rain descends on 
 volcanic mountains, it either falls on tufas and scoriae, or 
 on compact and solid lava. In the first case, it sinks into 
 the earth, and not meeting with any of those strata which 
 retain it, is lost for ever; in the latter case, it runs down 
 the declivities, forming river torrents, and hastily disap- 
 pears. 
 
 We shall conclude this general view of the surface of 
 jEtna, by noticing a few particulars respecting its animal 
 and vegetable productions. Besides the trees of a larger 
 size, which we have already described, jEtna produces a 
 great variety of plants and flowers. According to Dio- 
 dorus Siculus, this mountain was celebrated by the an- 
 cients for its odoriferous productions. (See JDiod. Sic. 
 torn. i. p. 322.) Plutarch and Aristotle somewhere in- 
 form us, that the smell of plants was so strong on some 
 parts of its surface, as to render it impossible to hunt in 
 that neighbourhood. Little, however, is yet known res- 
 pecting the flora of jEtna. Mr Brydone enumerates the 
 following plants, viz. the cinnamon, sarsaparilla, sassa- 
 fras, rhubarb, and palma Christi. 
 
 The animal productions of jEtna are now much dimin- 
 ished both in size and number. Its horses and cattle 
 were once esteemed the best in Sicily ; but the former 
 are greatly degenerated. The race of stags is thought 
 to be extinct ; Ijut several species of wild animals still re- 
 main, as the wild boar, the roebuck, and wild goat. Spal- 
 lanzani informs us, that in the upper extremity of the mid- 
 dle region, he met with the following birds: partridges, 
 {tetrao rufus ;) a kite, {falco milvus ;) jays, (^connis fflan- 
 dulariiis ;) thrushes, (tardus viscivoru.i ;) several ravens 
 and crows, and some birds of the titmouse kind ; but in 
 the higher region he saw no other animals than some lion 
 ants, (niyrmelion Jormicanim,) v/hich made their pit-falls 
 in the dust of the lavas. 
 
 After examining the more prominent features of the 
 surface of .£.tna, we next proceed to detail the opinion of 
 travellers, respecting ha height, constituent Jinrts, and She 
 mode of its formation. On these subjects, however, we 
 have to regret, that our information is both scanty and 
 inaccurate. 
 
 The ancients, if we may judge from the language of 
 their poets, and the allusions made to this mountain in 
 their mythological tales, regarded jEtna as a mountain of 
 the first magnitude. Pindar speaks of it as the pillar of 
 heaven ; {Ptjthia. Od. i. v. 36 ;) and Hygiuus makes Deu- 
 calion and Pyrrha flee to jEtna, as a place of security 
 amidst the wreck of the genei-al deluge. {Hygin. Fab. 
 153.) In modern times, however, since a knowledge of 
 the earth's surface has been more generally diffused, and 
 the mode of measuring heights better understood, jEtna 
 is known to be a mountain of but secondary importance,
 
 178 ^TNAs 
 
 and by no means to be compaieil in point of height with greater heit^ht. He further adds, that iu sevct'al- yau^ 
 the mountains of the western world, or even with those of of the mountain, calcareous strata lie under the lava, 
 the Alps. As the statements of travellers respecting the Sec Kirwan's Paper, Irinh Trannactwns, vol. vi. p. 306. 
 height of TElna differ widely irom one another, we shall From these facts it is inferred, that jEtna must have ex- 
 present our readers with a table of the heights given by isted as a mountain oi considerable height, before it was 
 different authors, and allow them to judge for themselves, uncovered by the sea, and that, in as far as the calcareous 
 after remarking, that a French toise is a little more than strata and shells lie under the lava, the eruptions iims! 
 an English fathom, or six feet. have taken place at a period posterior to their deposi- 
 
 tion. 
 Height above the level of the sea, The last hypothesis, or that which regards .Etna as 
 
 according to Kncher, 4000 toiscs. the accumulated effect of successive eruptions, has been 
 
 Recupero, 2500 toises. more generally received than the others. Indeed we 
 
 BuHbn, 2000 fathoms, know from observation, and the most authentic records, 
 
 Brytlone, 12,000 feet. that by many of the great eruptions, new hills have been 
 
 Sir G. Shucksburgh, . . 10,954 feet. produced; and that the greater number of the conical 
 
 Saussure, 10,963 feet. mounts which diversify the surface of iElna, bear une- 
 
 quivocal marks of the same origin. It is not without 
 When we reflect, that in every eruption a considerable reason, therefore, that some have been led to regard 
 quantity of new matter is added to its surface, we are apt jEtna, not as a single volcano, but as an assemblage of 
 to conclude, that jEtna must be continually increasing in volcanic hills. M. Houel, in his Voyage Pittorcstjue, 
 height. There is one circumstance, however, to be ta- states several arguments in support of this opinion. He 
 ken into account, which must liniit to a considerable de- indeed asserts, that jEtna is composed entirely of ma- 
 gree, if not counterbalance entirely, the effect of this ac- rine depositions, and the matter discharged from the 
 cumulation If, by frequent eruptions, the size of the volcano in its different eruptions. He informs us, that 
 mountain is increased externally, its internal parts must the base of the mountain consists of alternate layers of 
 suffer a corresponding diminution ; and the effect of this lava and mai-ine substances, successively deposited upon 
 hollowing out of the body of the mountain must evidently one another, and reaching to an unknown di-pth. These 
 be, to occasion a falling in of the summit. That this alternate layers, according to this author, nmst descend 
 event frequently occurs, seems more than probable, from to the level of the stratum of lava which was discharged 
 the marked difference of configuration which the crater by the first eruption. The last layer deposited by the 
 presents at different times. Some have adopted an opi- sea is a range of calcareous eminences of considerable 
 nion, the very opposite of this, and have contended, that height, placed on a basis of lava. Beneath tliis there is 
 jEtna bears evident marks of decay and diminution. W. another stratum of sea pebbles, rounded by their mutual 
 Houel, in particular, favours this opinion ; but it is by no attraction. This again lies upon a yellow rock, consist- 
 means a modern conjecture. (Vide Seneca, Kfiist. 1"9, ing of what is usually called indurated sand, over which 
 and iEiian, Var. Hist. 1. viii. c. xi.) In support of this the river Simeto flows. 
 
 opinion, it is alleged, that iEtna cannot be seen now at Much, however, is yet to be learned respecting the 
 so great a distance as formerly. We are unable to de- structure of ^tna. It is to be hoped, that ere long, some 
 cide between these contending opinions. That this disciple of the German school, less eager to form theo- 
 mountain, in common with others, is subject to continual ries than to discover facts, will deem this mountain wor- 
 waste, in consecpience of the constant action of rains, thy of particular investigation. 
 
 mountain torrents, and similar causes, appears undenia- The facts brought to light in examining the structure 
 ble ; but whether jEtna contains within itself any pecu- of ^Etna, have led to a discussion respecting its antiqui- 
 liar causes of decay, has not yet been clearly made out. ty, which being intimately connected with our present 
 Various and opposite opinions have been entertained subject, we must not wholly overlook. This question, 
 by naturalists, respecting the formation of yEtna. Some in itself perhaps of no great importance, has acquired 
 have contended, that it existed as a mountain and vol- considerable interest from the attempts made by some 
 cano from the creation; while others maintain, that it ex- to employ the conclusions drawn from it, as an argu- 
 fiibited no svmptoms of a volcano till long after that pe- ment agahist the divine origin of the Scriptures. _ The 
 riod. A third party, perhaps with better reason, regard general fact has already been alluded to, viz. that in dif- 
 it as the graduul production of volcanic eruptions. ferent parts of vEtna, layers of lava are found alternating 
 
 For the first opinion we are indebted to Buflbn, who with beds of vegetable mould ; but Canon Recupero has 
 admits, at the s.\me time, that the eruptions ceased for a furnished us with a particulai- fact of this kind. In the 
 considerable time, upon the subsiding of the waters neighbourhood of Jaci, he informs us, that in digging a 
 which covered the face of the earth. Nor did .Etna pit,' he discovered no less than seven distinct layers of 
 again begin to emit her hidden fires, according to the lava, each of which was covered with a bed of rich vege- 
 same author, till, by the bursting open of the Straits of table earth. If by any means, therefore, we can discover 
 Gibraltar and the Bosphorus, tlie plains of ^ina were the number of years required to convert lava into mould, 
 deluged, and thus a new supply of water obtained for or to cover it with a bed of vegetable earth of a certain 
 :inaintaining the conflagration. thickness, it seems but fair to conclude, upon the evi- 
 
 The second opinion is founded chiefly upon the great dence of this foct of Recupero's, that the mountain has 
 height at which beds of sea-shells have been found on existed at least seven times that period. Now Recupero 
 the sides of the mountain. Dolomieu states, that he himself furnishes us with the very step which is want- 
 discovered immense heaps of these shells on the north- ing to complete this argument. He points out a bed of 
 cast flanks of the mountain, at the height of 2000 feet lava, which he conceives to have been deposited about 
 above the level of the sea, and that regular strata of the time of the second Punic war, so thinly covered with 
 gray clay, fillttl with piarinc shells, are found at a still soil, as to be still unfit for producing either corn or vi^ies.
 
 JETNA. 
 
 171; 
 
 II a period of 2000 years, therefore, be required for con- 
 verting lava into soil, 14,000 must have elapsed since 
 tlie formation of the lowest bed of the pit at Jaci ; and 
 Consequently, the mountain must have existed at a pe- 
 riod still more remote. 
 
 Before in(|uiring how far this reasoning is correct, it 
 may be proper to observe, that, admitting tlie argument 
 respecting the great antiquity of the world to be conclu- 
 sive, it does not follow that the Mosaic account is either 
 false or inconsistent with facts. Moses professes to give 
 an account of the history of mankind from the earliest 
 period, and describes the manner in which the earth 
 was prepared for his habitation ; but he no where pre- 
 tends to give the date of its formation. The earth, there- 
 fore, may have existed, and undergone various revolu- 
 tions, previous to the period at which the Scripture nar- 
 ration commences. 
 
 But lest this mode of removing the difTiculty should 
 appear to some of our readers not altogether satisfac- 
 tory, we shall now examine the argument itself. Its 
 whole force seems to depend upon two circumstances ; 
 upon the accuracy of the fact respecting the bed of lava 
 which is said to have flowed from the mountain in the 
 time of the second Punic war ; and upon the correctness 
 of the general assumption, that all lavas require the 
 same number of years to fit them for supporting vegeta- 
 ble life. With regard to the first point, we have no 
 means of ascertaining what degree of credit is due to 
 tlie opinion of Recupero. He, indeed, speaks of it as a 
 matter clearly made out, but does not inform us from 
 what principles he derived his conclusion. 
 
 But admitung that this particular bed of lava did flow 
 from the mountain about 2000 years ago, and that it is 
 still scarcely fit for the purposes of vegetable life, does it 
 follow that all lavas are equally refractory ? If we were 
 entitled to decide upon the ciualitics of lava, from what 
 happens in the parallel case of iron slag, we might with- 
 out hesitation aflirm, that lavas become fertile at very 
 different periods, according to the nature of the sub- 
 stances fiom which they are derived, the consistency of 
 their parts, the position of the bed, and their degree of 
 exposure to those agents which produce a disintegration 
 of tneir parts. But fortunately on this subject we are 
 not under the necessity of having recourse to the doubt- 
 ful argument of analogy. It is a fact well ascertained, 
 that volcanic ashes and pumice vegetate much sooner 
 than compact solid lava. But even lavas, apparently in 
 similar circumstances, are covered with vegetable 
 mould at very different periods. Chevalier Giocni in- 
 forms us, that he found, in 1787, lavas which had been 
 projected only 21 years before that period, in a state of 
 vegetation ; while others, much more ancient, remained 
 barren. 
 
 Count Borch, however, the chief advocate of the opi- 
 nion which we are now comljating, produces several 
 facts greatly in favour of his own hypothesis. He in- 
 forms us, that he examined, in 1776, lavas of the follow- 
 ing different periods — 1157, 1329, 1669, 1766. The 
 first had acquired a coating of earth 12 inches thick; 
 the second, one of eight inches ; the third, more than 
 one inch ; and the last was entirely destitute of soil. 
 Here the series is perfectly regular, and the quantity of 
 soil formed corresponds exactly to the age of the lava ; 
 but the Abbe Spallanzani very pertinently inquires, If 
 the lava which flowed in 1329, and was examined by the 
 count 447 years after, had acquired a covering of earth 
 eight inches thick, how does it happen that the lava of 
 
 the Arso in Ischia, which flowed in 1j02, appeared, in 
 1788, to preserve its original hardness and sterility r 
 The argument deiived from the ajjpearanceof the pit at 
 Jaci, has no force, unless it can lie demonstrated, tliat 
 the thickness of the beds of vegetable earth corresponds 
 exactly to the period between the eruptions. But it 
 must appear perfectly nugatory, if it can be shown, that 
 an appearance exactly similar has been produced within 
 the limits of authentic history. The ruins of ilcrcula- 
 neum furnish us with a fact of this kind. Tiie eruption 
 which overwhelmed this once flourishing city, is Known 
 to have happened in the reign of Titus, little more ti.aii 
 1700 years ago. Upon examining the ruins, it is found 
 that six different eruptions have occurred since that pe- 
 riod, and that each of the strata of lava is separated by 
 beds of rich soil. 
 
 We shall now conclude this article with an account of 
 the different eruptions recorded by historians, Spaaan- 
 znni estimates the whole number which have happened 
 within the limits of authentic history, to be about 31, of 
 which, says Gioeni, not more than 10 have issued from 
 the highest crater. It is happily a matter of small mo- 
 ment; otherwise it might afibrcl considerable difficulty 
 to determine the precise numljer of eruptions which 
 have happened, even within this period. The same 
 eruption is often renewed, after a considerable interval ; 
 and this expiring effort may sometimes be mistaken by 
 the passing spectator for the commencement of a new 
 eruption. Some begin to entertain the opinion that 
 jif.tna has now nearly exhausted its force, and that its 
 enqiLions are not so frequent, or of such magnitude as 
 ill former ages. How far this opinion is consistent with 
 facts, we pretend not to determine ; but certainly it is 
 reasonable to suppose, that every new eruption, by di- 
 minishing the cjuantity of volcanic matter, or by remo\-> 
 ing it farther from tiie focus, and thus rendering it 
 more difficult to be elevated ; by excavating the moun- 
 tain, and enlarging its caverns in such a manner as to 
 diminish the eflcct of the vapour, must ultimately tend 
 to lessen the number and violence of the eruptions. 
 
 The phenomena attending an eruption have been fre- 
 quently and minutely described by different authors. 
 The pale white smoke, which continually issues from the 
 crater, even in its quietest state, begins to increase in 
 quantity ; small ciouds of black smoke are seen at short 
 intervals, shooting up through the centre of the white 
 column, and suddenly losing themselves in the higher 
 regions of the air. These clouds soon increase in num- 
 ber, and at last the whole column assumes a black ap- 
 pearance. During the night, this black smoke resembles 
 a pillar of flame ; an appearance which the lowest part 
 of the column retains even during the day. This smoke 
 becomes highly electrical ; and continual flashes of 
 forked lightning arc seen darting from it in every direc- 
 tion. In this state it is sometimes carried by the winds 
 into the adjoining country, where it commits the most 
 dreadful ravages. Mr Brydone informs us, that on some 
 occasions it has been known to extend to a distance of 
 100 miles, laying waste every thing around, killing the 
 shepherd and liis flocks on the mountains, blasting the 
 trees, and setting fire to the houses. In this state of the 
 mountain, showers of ashes frequently occur, earth- 
 quakes are produced, and red hot stones are projected 
 to a great height in the air. Brydone states, upon the 
 authority of Recupero, that stones of immense size have 
 sometimes been thrown upwards to Uie height of 70OV> 
 feet. 
 
 Z 2
 
 ;80 
 
 iETNA. 
 
 These appearances generally continue for three or 
 four months, after which the lava begins to boil over 
 the top of the crater, or bursts from some part of the 
 .side. The violent commotions of the mountain now 
 cease, and the lava flows down its sides in a regular 
 stream. Sometimes, however, the opening proves too 
 small for the full discharge of the lava, and then the 
 mountain rages with increased fury ; nor is tranquillity 
 restored, till, by bursting asunder the barriers, a IVee 
 vent is given for the discharge. During the night, the 
 lava appears like a stream of fire, and in the day-time is 
 easily recognised at a distance, by the white smoke 
 which constantly hovers over it. 
 
 The great features of an eruption of jEtna are thus 
 delineated by Virgil, in the third book of the iEncid : 
 
 Ilorrificis jiixt.i tonat JElna ruinia, 
 
 Interdumque atiam iirorumpit ad sthcra nubem. 
 Turbine f'umantem ])iceo ct candente favilla ; 
 Adtollitqiie globos flammaruni, et sidera lamblt: 
 Interdum scopulos, avolsaque viscera montis 
 Erig-it eructaiis, liquefactaqiie saxa sub auras 
 Cum gemitu glomerat, i'undoque exsstuat imo. 
 
 iE.N'EiD, b. iii. V. 571. 
 
 The Jirst eruption recorded in history, is that men- 
 tioned by Diodorus Siculus, (lib. v. tom. 1. p. 335.) He 
 does not fix the date, but informs us, that in consequence 
 of this eruption, the Sicani abandoned the eastern side 
 of Sicily, which was afterwards occupied by the Sici- 
 lians, a colony from Italy. Thucydides relates, that .£lna, 
 at three different times, discharged torrents of fire, be- 
 tween the third year of the 1 1th olympiad (733 A. C), 
 and the third year of the 88th olympiad (425 A.C.) See 
 Tlntcijdidea, b. iii. c. 116. The second eruption, or the 
 first mentioned by Thucydides, happened, according to 
 Euscbius, 565 A. C. The t/iird eruption, or the second 
 of Thucydides, happened in the same year in which 
 Mardonius was defeated at Plataea, or the second year of 
 the 75th olympiad (476 A. C.) Both the victory and the 
 eruption are commemorated in an inscription on the 
 O.xford Marble. This eruption is distinguished by an 
 act of filial piety, the memory of which the inhabitants 
 of Catania consecrated by a temple ; and succeeding 
 historians have preserved in a record still more durable. 
 See Strabo, tom. i. p. 412. Silius Italicus, lib. xiv. p. 
 703. Valerius Maximus, lib. v. c. 4. Seneca, Aristo- 
 tle, Claudian, Sec. This was no other than a bold and 
 successful attempt of two Sicilian youths, Amphinomus 
 and Anapis, to rescue, at the hazard of their own lives, 
 iheir aged parents from the devouring flames. The 
 fourth eruption, or the third mentioned by Thucydides, 
 occurred in the 88th olympiad, A. C. 425. The J/th 
 happened in the consulship of Sergius Fulvius Flaccus, 
 and Q. Calpurnius Piso (133 A. C), according to Oro- 
 sius. Livy mentions an eruption m the consulate of C. 
 Laelius and Q. Servilius, A. C. 140. The sixt/i eruption 
 liappcned 125 A. C. Orosius relates, that a prodigious 
 quantity of fishes were destroyed by it, and that the in- 
 habitants of Lipari suffered e.x:ceedingly by eating them. 
 The seventh eruption occurred 121 A. C. In conse- 
 quence of the damage occasioned by this eruption, the 
 inhabitants of Catania were excused by the Romans 
 from paying taxes for 10 years. See Livy, lib. Ixi. c. 41. 
 'Q\e eighth eruption happened 43 A. C, and was regard- 
 ed by some as ominous of the death of Caesar. The 
 ■.:inth eruption happened 40 A. D., and caused Caligula 
 to fly precipitately from Messina. Carera mentions two 
 
 eruptions; one in the year 253, and another in 420. In 
 the reign of Charlemagne, 812, another eruption hap- 
 pened. GeoflVey of Viterby mentions it in his Chronicle. 
 In 1169, Sicily was disturbed by a violent earthquake. 
 Catania was destroyed by it, and 15,000 persons perish- 
 ed. On this occasion, old rivers disappeared, and new 
 ones burst out, and the ridge of Muvj. fell in on the side 
 near Taornuno. The spring of Arethusa became mud- 
 dy, and the fountain of Ajo ceased to flow for two hours, 
 and then gushed out more abundantly than before. The 
 sea retired within its usual limits, and then overflowed 
 its ordinary banks, and swahowed up a number of per- 
 sons who had fled to the shore for safety. Corn and trees 
 of all sorts were destroyed, and the fields were covered 
 with stones, so as to become unfit for cultivation. In 
 1181, streams of fire, we are told, ran down the declivity 
 of the mountain. In 1329, the inhabitants of Sicily 
 were alarmed by the noises of iEtna. A terrible blaze 
 of fire issued trom the southern summit, accompanied 
 with huge stones. The fire and ashes spread to a con- 
 siderable distance, laying waste the neighbouring fields, 
 destroying the buildings, and occasioning the death of 
 birds and quadrupeds, and the fishes of the rivers. The 
 ashes were carried as far as Malta ; and many persons 
 are said to have died of terror. Eruptions, attended by 
 no remarkable circumstances, happened in the following 
 years, 1333, 1381, 1444, 1446, 1447; but after a cessa- 
 tion of near 100 years, an eruption occurred in 1536, 
 which was dreadful in its appearance and effects, and 
 which lasted a considerable time. A thick cloud, tinged 
 with red in the middle, hovered over the summit of the 
 mountain, which was attended by a strong west wind, 
 and succeeded by the discharge of a large quantity of 
 burning materials, that rushed, like a torrent, down the 
 eastern side of the mountain, destroying every thing that 
 came in its way. A similar stream directed its course to 
 the west, and did great damage. Chasms were opened 
 on the sides of the mountam, from which streams of 
 ignited matter were thrown up to a great height in the 
 air. A learned physician, led by curiosity to examine 
 this eruption, was burned to ashes by a volley of burning 
 stones. .iEtna continued in this state, with little inter- 
 ruption, for a whole year. The eruption ended with the 
 overflowing of the river Simetus. The effects of this 
 inundation were peculiarly disastrous. The country in 
 the neighbourhood of Paterno, the adjoining castles, and 
 more than 500 houses, presented one scene of ruin and 
 desolation. The people who lived on its banks, v. ith 
 their cattle, and all their property, were seen floating 
 down the stream. On this occasion, the gardens and 
 vineyards of A'icolosi and St A'iccolu dcW Arena were 
 laid waste by the torrents of lava which issued from the 
 sides of the mountain, earthquakes were felt throughout 
 the whole island, and the summit of .£tna fell in with a 
 tremendous noise. The inhabitants were so much alarm- 
 ed and distressed, that they wore mourning during the 
 greater part of the year. In 1567 and 1579, the ravages 
 of jEtna were renewed; and from 1603 to 1636, its 
 eruptions were occasionally repeated, and torrents of 
 lava flowed from it, which destroyed the woods and vine- 
 yards within their reach. In 1650, Oldenburg informs 
 us, tliat the mountain burnt on the north side, and pro- 
 duced great devastation. Carera relates, that he was 
 wimess of a dreadful conflagration in 1664, which lasted 
 for several years. But of all the eruptions, that of 1669 
 was the most formidable and destractive. It was pre- 
 ceded for eighteen days with a dark sky, thunder and
 
 JiTNA. 
 
 181 
 
 lightning, and frequent concussions of the earth. The 
 old crater of iitna, and the neighbouring islands of 
 Stroniboli and Volcano, by their unusual connuolions, 
 gave signs of the approaching desolations, in the even- 
 ing of the 1 Ith of March, a chasm was ojjened on the 
 east side of the mountain, 12 miles in length, and 5 or 6 
 wide, in the neighbourhood of Monte Hunsu. On the 
 following night, a new chasm was formed in the very 
 place where the mountahi now stands, together with 
 others in difi'erent parts of the mountahi, from all of which 
 there issued huge volumes of smoke. From the princi- 
 pal chasm a stream of lava proceeded, which directed 
 its course to a lake called liardia, about six miles from 
 Montepileri, destroying m its course the neighbouring 
 village. The next day, it laid waste Mai Passo and 
 Montepileri. On the 23d of March, the stream was in 
 some places two miles broad ; on this day a new gulf 
 was opened, from which were discharged sand and ashes, 
 which formed a hiil with two summits, two miles in cir- 
 cumference, and 150 paces high. This new mountain 
 continued to discharge ashes for three months, in such 
 quantity as to cover the adjoining tract of country for 
 1 5 miles. It is even said, that these ashes were carried 
 by the winds as far as Calabria. On the 25th of March, 
 the whole mountain was agitated by a violent earth- 
 quake, the summit fell in, and a deep gulf was opened, 
 more than a mile in extent, from which was discharged 
 enormous masses of stones and ashes. It is said that 
 the famous block of lava on mount Friuricnto was dis- 
 charged on this occasion. The torrent of lava which 
 still continued to flow, directed its course to Catania. 
 It passed over the walls, near the spot occupied by the 
 gardens and convent of the Benedictines, and laid waste 
 the greater part of the city. After this, it divided into 
 separate channels, and proceeded towards the sea. For 
 farther particulars, see I3oKELLi,and the account of the 
 English merchants in the Phil. Trans. No. 51. Abr. 
 vol. ii. p. 387. The following additional circumstances 
 respecting this great eruption are related by lord Win- 
 'hclsea, who at that time happened to be at Catania in 
 his way home from Constantinople. The stream of lava 
 in 40 days, destroyed the habitations of 27,000 persons. 
 In its progress to the sea, it passed through a lake four 
 miles in extent, and four fathoms deep, which it not only 
 filled up, but formed into a hill. He says that at the 
 distance of 10 miles, he saw the torrent begin to run 
 down the mountain, and that the flame which accompa- 
 nied it, rose to a height equal to the highest steeples in 
 England ; that as it descended the mountain, it appear- 
 ed of a fiery red colour, bearing on its surface stones as 
 large as an ordinary table. See an extract of this accoimt 
 in sir W. Hamilton's Travels. 
 
 In 1682, a new gulf was opened on the top of the moun- 
 tain, and spread its lava over the hill of Mazara. In 
 1686, another eruption happened, which consumed 
 woods, vineyards, and crops of gi'ain for four leagues 
 round. The progress of the lava was stopped for some 
 time in the valley of il/;(sfa/;, upon which some persons 
 ascended a hill in the neighbourhood to mark its courses, 
 and were buried alive by the hill sinking inwards. Af- 
 ter a long interval, the eruptions of jEtnawere renewed 
 in 1755, when a prodigious torrent of water issued from 
 the crater. The discharge of water was preceded by 
 smoke and flames, subterraneous noise, and concussions 
 of the earth, the usual signs of an approaching eruption ; 
 »t length the torrent burst forth, and formed tremen- 
 dous cataracts in descending from one chain of rocks to 
 
 another, till it reached the cultivated plains, which it 
 overspread for many miles; and after separating into 
 several deep and rapid rivers, it discharged itself into 
 the sea. The ravages of this inundation, on account of 
 both the quantity and heat ol the watei-, was very cala- 
 mitous; yet the discharge did not continue above half 
 an hour. When it ceased, the noise, smoke, and com- 
 motions continued, and two new chasms were opened, 
 from which torrents of lava issued. In a few days after, 
 a violent explosion happened, by which small stones 
 were driven as far as the hills of Mascali, and black sand 
 to the opposite coast of Calabria. In two days the moun- 
 tain opened again and discharged a torrent of lava, 
 which moved towards the plain, at the rate of a mile a- 
 day, and continued for six days. Rccupero, who exa- 
 mined the course of the torrent of water mentioned 
 above, informs us, that in its progress, it tore up a large 
 forest of trees, some of which were two and two and a 
 half feet in diameter: that the main torrent divided into 
 four principal streams, and these again separated into 
 smaller currents ; but afterwards reuniting, they formed 
 islands, and large rivers about 900 feet wide, that frag- 
 ments of lava and huge rocks were removed by the cur- 
 rent, and valleys filled up by the sand which the waters 
 deposited. When Recupero visited the mountain after 
 an interval of ten years from the eruption, the whole 
 side of the hill bore marks of the deluge. In 1763, there 
 was an eruption which continued with intermissions for 
 three months. The flames which issued from the cra- 
 ter formed a noble spectacle. A pyramid of fire was 
 seen to rise to a prodigious height in the air, like an 
 artificial fire-work, attended with the explosion of a for- 
 midable battery, which shook the earth under those who 
 were spectators of the scene. The lava that flowed 
 from the crater yielded a very brilliant light, retained its 
 heat, and exhaled its smoke for two years, nor did any 
 snow appear on the summit of -■Etna for five years. In 
 1764, a new crater was opened at a considerable distance 
 from jEtna; and in 1766, another was opened at the 
 grotto of Paterno, which formed a hill, that after an in- 
 terval of four years discharged great quantities of smoke, 
 with loud explosions. In 1780, several new craters were 
 formed. Another eruption happened in 1787, and has 
 been accurately described by Gioeni ; it was preceded 
 by the usual signs of an approaching eruption, after 
 which, the lava began to flow from the hinder part of 
 one of the two mountains that form the double head of 
 iEtna. On the next day a shower of fine black brilliant 
 sand descended ; on the east side there was a fall of 
 stones, and at the foot of the mountain were seen flashes 
 of fire, with a deluge of scorix and lava. In the even- 
 ing conical flames appeared alternately to rise and fall 
 from the crater; at three the next inorning the moun- 
 tain seemed to be cleft, the upper part resembling a 
 burning mass. Two of the conical flames, viz. one on 
 the north, and another on the south, were of an immense 
 extent; where these separated, another cone of flame, 
 composed of many smaller ones, appeared to ascend 
 above the mountain over a base of about a miie and a 
 half in diameter, to a height supposed to be about two 
 miles. This cone was covered with a thick smoke, in 
 which were seen very brilliant flashes of lightning. 
 Sounds resembling the explosion of large cannon were 
 also occasionally heard. From the cone, as from a foun- 
 tain, there was perceived a jet of many flaming volcanic 
 matters, which were thrown to the distance of six or 
 seven miles ; and from the base of the cone, there is-
 
 132 
 
 JETO 
 
 AFE 
 
 Sued a tliirk smoke, which darkened parts of the flame. 
 This Ijcaulit'ul appearance continued lor three quarters 
 of an hour. It began the next nij^ht with greater force, 
 hut lasted only for half an hour. In the intervals, jElna 
 threw out llanies, smoke, ignited stones, and sliowers of 
 sand. The eruption, as usual, ceased with the flowing 
 of lava, wliich directed its course towards Bronte and 
 the plains of Lago. There was another eruption in Oc- 
 tober of the same year, which has been described by 
 Spallanzaiii. The stream of lava that issued on this oc- 
 casion was three miles in length, its breadth was in 
 some places aliout a quarter of a mile, in others one- 
 third, and in other parts still greater ; its greatest depth 
 was about 18 feet, and the least six; and it directed ils 
 course along the west side of the mountain. . 
 
 The last eruption happened on the 26th or 2Tlh March, 
 1809. It burst out at the top in a most tremendous man- 
 ner. Soon afterwards twelve new craters opened about 
 half way down the mountain, and have continued for 
 several weeks to throw out torrents of burning lava, 
 v,-hich has covered several estates to the depth of 30 or 
 40 feet. For particulars respecting the causes and pro- 
 ducts of volcanic eruptions, see Basaltes, Lava, and 
 
 VoLCAXO. 
 
 For farther particulars respecting ^Etna in general, 
 our readers may consult the following authors : Borclli, 
 Hist. Incend. Etn£. An. 1669; Jac. d'Orville's Ukula; 
 Brydone's 7o?(r, vol. i; Sir W. Hamilton's Co/n/H Phle- 
 gr£i; Phllfjfsnplikal Transac. 1669, vol. iv ; Pliil. Tratis. 
 1755, p. 209,909, 1028, and Phil. Trans. 1671; Riedsdel's 
 Travels in Sicily ; Swinburne's Travels, vol. iv ; Spallan- 
 zani's Travels, vol. i; Dolomieu and Houcl's Voyage 
 Pittoresrjue,. Faujas de St Fond Alineralogie dea Vol- 
 eans, 8vo. Paris, 1785. (.») 
 
 jETOLIA, hi Geography and History, a province of 
 Greece Proper, and corresponding to what is now called 
 the Despotat, or Little Greece. According to Strabo, it 
 derived its name from iEtolus the son of Endymion, who, 
 being compelled to leave Elis, a city of Peloponnesus, 
 removed to this country, and settled among its early in- 
 habitants. It was bounded on the east by the river Eve- 
 nus, on the west by the Achelous, on the north by the 
 country of the Dorians and part of Epirus, and on the 
 south ijy the Corinthian Gulf. It extended from north 
 to south about 28 miles, and from east to west above 20. 
 
 Like many of the states of Greece prior to the civili- 
 zation which w?s introduced by the Amphictyons, the 
 jEtolians were conspicuous for their robberies and pre- 
 datory invasions. They are represented by Thucydides, 
 as more addicted to inroads and rapine than any of the 
 tribes by which they were surrounded; as turbulent and 
 haughty; seldom agreeing among themselves, and often 
 engaged in disputes with their neighbours. They are 
 said to have worn only one shoe when fighting ; and 
 hence the epithet ^uiiox.p»7riS'r,i has been applied to them 
 by several historians and poets of Greece. They were 
 jealous of their liberties, and courageous in defending 
 them; inured to hardship, skilful in martial exercises, 
 and inclined to war. 
 
 The form of government which was established among 
 the jEtolians was that of a repiiblic. The chief magis- 
 trate was the prsetor, wliose office it was to lead the 
 troops, to convoke the general assemblies, and to pre- 
 side in them: the inferior magistrates were the general 
 of the horse, the ephori, and the public secretary or re- 
 corder. The people, who assembled once every year, 
 OP oftencr, as cirevjjnstances might requii-e, had the 
 
 whole legislative authority in their own hands; and they 
 had likewise the power of declaring war, of makinjj 
 peaCL, and of entering into alliances with other states. 
 Thus accustomed to liberty, it is not to be wondered that 
 the jKtolians should oppose with great eagerness and 
 activity, the ambitious designs of the Macedonian princes. 
 They kindled the social war in the heart of Peloponne- 
 sus, with a view to humble the Achseans; and having 
 joined their forces with those of the Lacedxmonians, 
 they struggled for three years with the united powers 
 of Achaia and Macedon ; but they were at length con- 
 strained to yield, and to purchase a peace by the surren- 
 der of Acarnania to Pliilip. It was not long, however, 
 Ijcfore they attempted to recover the province which 
 they had lost. They concluded an alliance with the 
 Romans A. D. 211. and were the first of the Greek, 
 states who entered into any treaty with that people. 
 They invaded Acarnania while the troops of Philip were- 
 employed at Macedon; but were diverted from the pro- 
 secution of their design, by the unexpected resistance of 
 the Acarnanians; and turnhig their arms against Anti- 
 cyra, a city of the Locri, they compelled the inhabitants 
 to surrender. But notwithstanding their success in this 
 instance, the fortune of the Macedonians prevailed. The 
 .£tolians were twice defeated by Philip, and were at last 
 obliged to conclude a peace with that monarch ontei-ms 
 very unfavourable to their independence. The peace 
 was but of short duration, and the vEtolians were speedi- 
 ly in arms. Altera long war, in which they maintained 
 their fidelity to the Romans, and were enabled, by their 
 assistance, to make head against Pliilip, they worsted 
 the Macedonians in a great battle at Cynocephalse ; but 
 unfortunately arrogating to themselves the merit of the 
 victory, the Roman general, in order to humble them, 
 granted a truce to the ambassadors of Philip, without 
 asking their advice. They afterwards united with An- 
 tiochus against their former allies, but fell with the rest 
 of Greece under the power of Rome, and " the majesty 
 of the Roman people was revered in all jEtolia." 
 
 In the modern history of jEtolia, there is nothing of 
 sufficient magnitude to desenx a place in this work. 
 See Livy, lib. 26, 27, 31, 52, Sec. Polyb. Hist. lib. 2, 4 — 
 9. Pausanias in Achaiam, p. 521. Goldsmith's History 
 of Greece. (/;) 
 
 AFER, DoMiTius, a celebrated orator, was born at 
 Nismes, in the reign of Tiberius, about 16 years before 
 Christ. Having obtained the prstorship of Rome, and 
 aspiring at higher honours, he turned his attention to 
 the bar, and became one of the ablest pleaders of his 
 time. Not content with the applause which he acquired 
 by his eloquence, his ambitious mind was panting after 
 greater advancement in the state. But finding that he 
 was not likely to succeed by honourable means, he de- 
 based himself, by turning informer. His first victim 
 was Claudia, the cousin of Agrippina, who had now be- 
 come obnoxious to Tiberius. By this accusation, he so 
 ingratiated himself with the emperor, that wealth and 
 honour were the reward of his villany. Having now 
 discovered a way to preferment, he persevered in his 
 wickedness; and the suspicions of Tiberius and his suc- 
 cessors never left him without employment. But his 
 eagerness at one time to obtain the favour of the empe- 
 ror had nearly proved his destruction. Having erected 
 a statue in honour of Caligula, he mentioned by way of 
 encomium, that the emperor had been twice consul at 
 the age of 27. Cali<3;ula, blind to the compliment, con- 
 sidered this as a reflection upon his violation of the laws-
 
 AFF 
 
 AFF 
 
 183 
 
 of the state, and vehemently declaimed against liim in 
 the senate. Afcr, instead of replyins; to the emperor's 
 speech, fell upon his knees, and begged for mercy, say- 
 ing, that he dreaded the eloquence of Caligula more 
 than his power. This abject submission, and well-timed 
 compliment so pleased the emperor, that he was par- 
 doned, and immediately advanced to the consulship. 
 When age had enervated his eloquence his amijition 
 and avarice were still unsatiated, and disregarding the 
 advice of Horace, 
 
 Solve scnesccntem mature sai us eiiiiim, ne 
 Peccet ad irxtremum rklendus, cl if a ducat, 
 
 IloK. F.p. 1. lib. I. 
 
 he continued to plead in spite of his infirmities, which 
 excited the derision instead of the applause of his hear- 
 ers. He is said to have died of eating to excess, at the 
 age of 75, A. D.59. 
 
 The abilities of Afer were of the first order, and had 
 they been exerted in a good cause, would have entitled 
 him to the praise and esteem of his countryincn. His 
 eloquence is highly praised by Quinctilian, who attended 
 his pleadings, and assiduously cultivated his friendship. 
 But ambition was the ruling passion of his mind, and he 
 stopped at no meanness or villany in order to gain his 
 purpose. His talents were prostituted to support the 
 tyranny and cruelty of men who were the scourges of 
 his country ; and his highest ambition was to obtain their 
 favour and regard. Tacitus Annal. lib. iv. c. 66. lib. xvi. 
 c. 19. Qu'mcliUan Inst. (/?) 
 
 AFFECTION, in the p'nilosophy of mind, denotes a 
 feeling excited by some external cause or agent, which 
 is accompanied by pleasure or pain, and prompts us to 
 communicate to the cause of the feeling, a correspond- 
 ing enjoyment or suffering. Affection may be distin- 
 guished from appetite and desire, by having /icrso7is, 
 and not things, for its object; yet we sometimes extend 
 affection to inanimate objects, as to a book which we 
 have often read, or a tree under which we have often 
 reposed, bv a kind of sympathetic personification ; and 
 we should feel something like the loss of a friend, if the 
 one were destroyed, or the other wantonly cut down. 
 Affection is chiefly distinguishable from passion by its 
 greater moderation and tranquillity. The tender regard 
 between husband and wife, is denominated affection ; 
 but the ardour of a lover towards his mistress, is called 
 passion. Affection exhilarates the mind without de- 
 stroying its tranquillity ; but passion disturbs our reason, 
 deprives us of self-command, agitates even the body, 
 and hurries us to action, by an almost irresistible im- 
 pulse. 
 
 No writer has treated of the affections so fully and ac- 
 curately as Dr Reid, by whom they are divided into two 
 classes, the Benevolent and Malevolent. The former 
 dispose us to do good to our fellow creatures, the latter 
 to injure them. The application of the term malevolent 
 to an affection may seem harsh, but it is justified by the 
 common usage of language, according to which we 
 speak of being ivill or ill affected towards any person. 
 The benevolent affections, according to this author, all 
 agree in two particulars, viz. that they are accompanied 
 by an agreeable feeling, and that they imply a desire of 
 good and happiness to their object. The most remark- 
 able of this class, are natural affection, pity, friendship, 
 love, gratitude, esteem, and public spirit. The malevo- 
 lent affections, on the other hand, are attended with a 
 pamful emotion, and the desire of evil to their objects. 
 
 Dr Reid admits only of two legitimate principles of this 
 kind in the human constitution, viz. emulation and re- 
 sentment. Reid's A'.v.sai/.v c/" the Active Povjcru (jf Man, 
 Essay iii. c. 4. 
 
 The benevolent affections are productive of some of 
 our purest pleasures ; they compose the mind, warm 
 the heart, enliven tlie spirits, and brighten every feature 
 of the countenance. The malevolent affections, on the 
 other hand, irritate tlie feelings, disquiet the temper, 
 and even give deformity to the countenance. Here na- 
 ture gives us a plain and friendly admonition to cherish 
 the former, and to suppress as much as possible the lat- 
 ter. " One only good purpose which resentment can an- 
 swer," says Butler, " is to prevent or remedy injury. If 
 it be not conducive to this end, it must necessarily con- 
 tradict not only the general obligation to benevolence, 
 but likewise that particular end itself" Sermon 9. See 
 Moral Philosophy, (w) 
 
 AFFIDAVIT, a tenn chiefly used in English law, to 
 signify an oath in writing made before a person autho- 
 rized to administer it. In Scotland, affidavits are never 
 admitted as grounds of evidence. Some statutes, how- 
 ever, make an exception to this rule ; for the bankrupt 
 statute requires the claimants to lodge their claims, ac- 
 companied by affidavits, or oaths of verity. See Bell's 
 Diet, of the Law of Scotland, v. 1. p. 21. (t:') 
 
 AFFINITY, in the language of Chcmisirv, denotes 
 that species of attraction which is exerted between the 
 particles of matter when they are placed at insensible 
 distances, and which gives rise to the greater number of 
 chemical phenomena. The phrase chemical atiraction, 
 is employed to denote this power considered in relation 
 to its exertion bet\Veen the particles of different kinds of 
 matter; while that oi affinity of aggi-eg-alion eiipressesii 
 as exerted between particles of the same kind. The 
 term affinity appears to have been introduced from an 
 hypothesis which once prevailed, that some hidden re- 
 semblance or similarity exists among those substances 
 (however different they may appear to be in their pro- 
 perties) between which attraction is exerted with great- 
 est force, so as to produce their intimate union; an hy- 
 pothesis without any foundation, and which has long 
 been exploded. The propriety of using a word in sci- 
 entific language, which thus conveys an erroneous idea, 
 may be questioned ; but it has been supposed to be of 
 some advantage to have a single term to express that 
 species of contiguous attraction, which is exerted be- 
 tween the particles of matter as opposed to gravitation, 
 and the attractive forces of electricity and magnetism, 
 and hence that of affinity has been retained. 
 
 The relation of this power to the other species of at- 
 traction will be considered under the article Attrac- 
 tion ; and the consideration of the phenomena to which 
 it gives rise, and the laws it obeys, belong to the science 
 of Chemistry. (6) 
 
 AFFINITY, in law, is that degree of kindred or con- 
 nexion which subsists between one of two married per- 
 sons, and the blood relations of the other. It is only by 
 affection that this tie is created ; for there is no real 
 kindred. A person cannot, by legal succession, reap an 
 inheritance from relation by affmitv, be it ever so near; 
 neither does it extend to the nearest relation of husband 
 or wife, so as to create a mutual relation between them. 
 The degrees of affinity are computed in the same way 
 as those of consanguinity, or blood. By the Jewish law, 
 marriage was prohibited within certain degrees of con- 
 sanguinity, such as that of an uncle to a niece, of a
 
 1S4 
 
 AFO 
 
 AFG 
 
 grandfaihcr to a granildaughtcr, or of a brother lo a 
 brother's wife, if he had left children. The same limi- 
 lations arc adopted into the hni s of this country, and ap- 
 ply also to aflinity, as well as consanguinity. Iiifringe- 
 nicnls of the law, however, arc found in the scripture 
 itself, such as the marriage of Aliraham, and also that 
 of Jacob. Though it is understood that any legal im- 
 pediments arising from affinity cease when that tic is 
 dissolved (for instance, by decease of a husband), those 
 aft'ccting the marriage of the survivors still subsist. 
 
 A judge cannot decide in the cause of a near relation, 
 if an objection be made to it, whether the kindred arise 
 from consanguinity or affinity. Thus, in Scotland, by a 
 special statute, he cannot try the cause of his lather's 
 brother, or son, by aflinity ; but he may decide that of 
 hi.s nephew by affinity. Some lawyers maintain, that 
 the like rtdes apply to receiving the testimony of wit- 
 nesses. Others lay it down, that a sister-in-law may not 
 be admitted a witness during the husband's life, though 
 this may be done after his death, (c) 
 
 AFFU.SION, in Medicine, a term at present much 
 used to express a very efficacious method of applying 
 cold, by dashing cold water over the body, lately recom- 
 mended and practised with success for allaying feverish 
 heat, by Dr Wright and Dr Currie. The affusion of 
 tepid and warm water has also been successfully employ- 
 ed by Dr Currie. See London Medical Journal, 1786, 
 Currie's Medical Be/iorla, /lasaim, and Medicine. (/) 
 
 AFGHANS, in History, a fierce and untractablc peo- 
 ple, who inhabit the mountainous country on the borders 
 of Persia, and occupy a region extending from the Cas- 
 pian Sea to the Indus on the east, and from the same 
 river to Cachmir on the west. This region comprehends 
 four grand divisions of the Persian empire, Daghistan, 
 Khorasaii, Seghistan, and Candahar. See Persia. 
 
 It is generally supposed that the Afghans derived 
 their origin from the Arabs, as they have little or no re- 
 semblance to the Tartars, in their persons, habits, or 
 language. Sir William Jones, however, is inclined to 
 think, that their descent may be traced with greater 
 propriety from the Israelites ; and he adds, that the best 
 informed of the Persian historians have adopted the 
 same opinion. The Afghans have traditions among 
 themselves, which render it very probable that this is 
 the just account of their origin. It becomes still more 
 likely, when we consider, that many of their families 
 are really distinguished by the names of the Jewish 
 tribes, though, since their conversion to the Islam, they 
 conceal their descent with the most studious care ; and 
 the whole is confirmed by the circumstance, that the 
 Pushto language has so near an affinity to the Chaldaic, 
 that it may justly be regarded as a dialect of that tongue. 
 But whether the Afghans originally sprung from the 
 Israelites or not, they have long been confounded with 
 the Arabs ; and perhaps there may be no great mistake 
 in supposing them to be descended from that numerous 
 and powerful people. 
 
 The inaccessible nature of the country which the Af- 
 gtians inhabit, their poverty, and the fierceness of their 
 disposition, have contributed to secure their indepen- 
 dence. For tliough they have been nominally reduced 
 to suljjection, they were never conquered; and safe be- 
 hind their niountains, or fiaving nothing to excite the 
 ambition or the avarice of princes, they have retained 
 many of their early customs, and preserved, with little 
 deviation, their original character. It is known tliat tlic 
 
 Arabs were acquainted with letters, and that they had 
 made considerable progress in science, at a time when 
 its light was almost extinguished in Europe. From 
 this it has been inferred by Dow, {Hist, of Indoatan, vol. 
 iii.) that the Afghans, whom he calls " a literary people, 
 like the Arabs," must have among thein records of an- 
 cient times, whicli have not yet been opened to the cu- 
 riosity of the learned; and sir William Jones recom- 
 mends an incjuiiy into their history and antiquities with 
 great earnestness and expectation. There is undoubted 
 evidence tliat such records exist. A Persian abridgmeiil 
 of a work written in the Pushto language, and entitled, 
 " The Secrets of the Afghans," was communicated by 
 Henry Vansittart, Esq. to sir William Jones, when the 
 latter gentleman was president of the Asiatic Society ; 
 and a specimen of the original tongue was added to the 
 abridgment. But whatever records of antiquity the 
 Afghans may possess, they are represented as wholly 
 illiterate at present, and strangers to the use of alpha- 
 betical characters, in all the transactions of life. See 
 prjrster's Journey from Bengal to lingland. Sec. 
 
 The Afghans are more conspicuous for their warlike 
 and restless disposition, than for their attainments in 
 literature. Under Amir Vaez, aleader of a bold and en- 
 terprising spirit, they relinquished all connexion with 
 Persia, and advanced into Candahar, about the year 1712 
 they murdered the Khan of that place, took his chief 
 city, and afterwards kept possession of the whole pro- 
 vince. The AbdoUees, another tribe oi the Afghans, 
 threw off the Persian yoke, A. D. 1717, and established 
 themselves as an independent republic. Availing him- 
 self of the confusion to which that event had given rise, 
 Mir Mahmud attempted to subdue the v.hole kingdom 
 of Persia ; and having united his forces with those of 
 the AbdoUees, and some other tribes, he laid siege to 
 Ispahan. The Persian ruler made a vigorous defence. 
 The siege was long, and the famine great, through all 
 parts of the capital ; but Hossein was at last betrayed by 
 his officers, and forced to resign the empire, after 
 governing it 28 years, into the hands of Mahmud. " From 
 this time," said he, to the victorious chief, " I will un- 
 dertake nothing without your advice." Mahmud was 
 succeeded by Ashruff, under whose conduct the Ab- 
 dollee Afghans obtained some advantages over the 
 Turks ; but they concluded a peace with them in the 
 year 1727, and acknowledged the Ottoman emperor as 
 the lawful sovereign of Persia. They were afterwards 
 routed in several great battles, and driven from many of 
 their possessions by Kouli Khan, or Nadir Shah. This 
 resistless leader, having taken Ispahan, pursued Ashruff 
 from one province to another; and, notwithstanding the 
 obstinate bravery of the AbdoUees, they were totally de- 
 feated, and obliged to renounce all their claims to the 
 government of the Persian empire. Nadir Shah then 
 established himself on the throne A. D. 1736, and in- 
 vaded the Afghans ; but he lost so many of his troops in 
 skirmishes with these hardy mountaineers, that he offer- 
 ed them peace, and invited them to enlist in his army. 
 They are still regarded as the chief strength of the 
 Persiaii forces. See Science de I' Histoire fiar Chantreaux, 
 tom. iii. pp. 40, 41. Dow's Hist, of Indostan^ vol. iii. 
 A.'iiatic Researches, \o\.\i. Hanway's Traxiels, \o\.iu..^. 
 148. Frazer's Hist, of ATadir Shah, p. 91. Raynal's 
 Revolut. vol. ii. p. 68. Hanway's Hist. Ace. of the Brit' 
 ish Trade, vol. iii. p. 27, &c. (/')
 
 18i 
 
 AFRICA. 
 
 Africa, one of the four great continents into wliich the 
 worid has been divided ; ranking next after Asia and 
 America in point of size ; but, in political and moral 
 cstnnation, tnc meanest quarter of the globe. It is 
 bounded on the north by the Mediterranean Sea, which 
 separates it from Europe ; on the west, by the Atlantic 
 Ocean, which divides it from America ; on the south, 
 by the Southern Ocean ; and on the east, by the Indian 
 Ocean, the Red Sea, and part of Asia ; forming thus an 
 immense peninsula, united to the continent of Asia by 
 the isthmus of Suez, a neck of land about 60 miles in 
 breadth, lying between the Mediterranean and the Ara- 
 bian Gulf In form it resembles a triangle, of which 
 the northern part is the base, and the southern extremi- 
 ty the vertex ; but its sides, on the east and west, arc 
 very irregular. From Cape Bona, in the Mediterranean, 
 to the Cape of Good Hope, it comprehends about 70 
 degrees of latitude, or 4980 miles ; and from Cape 
 Verd, in 17° 33' W. Long., to Cape Guardafui, 51° 2o' 
 E. Long., somewhat more than 4790 miles. 
 
 Various etymologies have been given of the name 
 Africa, which seems at first to have been confined to 
 that northern province, denominated by the ancients 
 Africa Propria. According to Bochart, it is derived 
 from ycrw:, a Punic word, which signifies an ear of con ; 
 and this etymology is supposed to refer to tiie fertiliiy of 
 the country. Dr Hyde deduces it from the Pnoenician 
 Havarca, or ylz'reca : the country of Barca, >vhich was 
 one of the most remarkable parts of this continent. 
 But the most plausible etymology seems to be that of 
 .Servius, who derives it from «, /iriv. and <p^ix,7i, cold ; 
 an appellation exceedingly applicable to its burning 
 climate. 
 
 The striking diversity of appearance by which the in- 
 habitants of different parts of Africa are distinguished 
 from each other, and the Negroes from all the rest of 
 mankind, would naturally lead us into a discussion con- 
 cerning its original population ; but history furnishes no 
 facts sufficient to direct us in this interesting inquiry. 
 The northern and eastern regions probably received their 
 first inhabitants from the adjacent coasts of Asia. A 
 general resemblance in fcauu'c, in manners, and in some 
 of their religious tenets, seems to indicate an affinity 
 between the Egyptians and the natives of Hindostan. 
 The Abyssinians, as we have already shown, are of Ara- 
 bian extraction ; Carthage, or Africa Propria, was 
 peopled by a colony from Tyre ; and Sallust, on the au- 
 thority of Punic manuscripts, informs us, that other parts 
 of the African coasts were colonized by Medes, Per- 
 sians, and Annenians. The Romans, who extended their 
 conquests in Africa as far as the river Niger, establish- 
 ed in those fertile regions many flourishing colonies. 
 When their empire was subverted by the northern bar- 
 barians, the Vandals passed from Spain into Africa ; and, 
 after converting one of the richest and most populous 
 countries in the world into a barren wilderness, erected 
 there a kingdom, which lasted for upwards of a century. 
 The north of Africa was, after that interval, subdued by 
 Mahometan Arabs, who, under the name of Moors, form 
 now a great proportion of its population. Among the 
 mountains of Barbary, there is a race of men, distinct 
 from the Moors in the plains, of a fair complexion, thin, 
 light, and active. Though a pastoral people, their sen- 
 
 Voi.. I. Part I. 
 
 timcnts arc lofty, their manners arc more elegant, and 
 their morals less licentious than those of the Moors. 
 Berberia, the ancient name of Barbary, may easily be 
 traced to Breber, the appellation by which these people 
 are still distinguished ; and, from many other circum- 
 stances, it is probable, that they are the most ancient in- 
 habitants of this part of Africa ; and have mingled so 
 little with foreigners, that they retain much of their 
 original appearance. (Jn the southern frontiers of Mo- 
 rocco, there is a tribe, apparently the same with the 
 Brebers, known by the name of Shellu, who speak a 
 language of their own, which is supposed to be derived 
 from the ancient Punic. They correspond almost ex- 
 actly to the description of the Mauritanians, given by the 
 Roman writers ; and are said still to denominate Euro- 
 peans by a name that sounds like Roumi. The coun- 
 tries south of the Sahara, or Great Desert, are inhabited 
 by the negroes, apparently a distinct and indigenous 
 race. No cause, but an original difference of conforma- 
 tion, can well account for that peculiarity of appearance 
 which so remarkably distinguishes them from the inha- 
 bitants of every other country, though placed under 
 similar latitudes, and as burning a sun ; and which re- 
 mains invariable in the negro race, whatever may be the 
 change of their situatioii, or their mode of life. Some 
 nations of a copper colour, with lank hair, have recently 
 been discovered in the interior; l)ut so imperfectly is 
 this country known, that scarce a probable conjecture 
 can be given concerning their origin. 
 
 The knowledge which the ancients possessed con- 
 cerning Africa was extremely limited. Its northern 
 provinces, indeed, were sufficiently known, and were at 
 vaiious times over-run by the armies of Europe, or 
 peopled by its colonies. Herodotus seems to have been 
 well acquainted with this country, from Mount Atlas to 
 Ethiopia above Egypt ; and had heard of the central 
 river Niger, which he mentions as flowing to the east. 
 Egypt, the nursery of learning and civilization, niairr- 
 tained, at an early period, an intercourse with Europe 
 and Asia; and continued long the resort of the intelli- 
 gent and curious, from both these continents : Yet the 
 adjacent country of Ethiopia was very imperfectly known. 
 
 The Carthaginians, an active and enterprising people, 
 penetrated by land into several of the interior provinces, 
 with some of which they established a commercial in- 
 tercourse, while others they subjected to their empire. 
 They sailed along the western coast almost to the tropic 
 of Cancer; and, planting several colonies, endeavoured 
 to civilize the rucle natives, and accustom them to trade. 
 A laudable curiosity, combined with the desire of com- 
 mercial advantage in prompting them to extend their 
 discoveries on the African coast. A fleet, equipped by 
 the authority of the senate, and at the public expense, 
 was intrusted to Hanno, who was directed to steer to- 
 wards the south, along the coast of Africa ; and appears 
 to have advanced nearer the equinoctial line than any 
 former navigator of that nation. The periplus of his 
 voyage has been preserved, and, as its authenticity has 
 been incantrovcrtibly established, (see L' E^ifirir dcsLoix. 
 liv. xxi. c. 8. and Afenioirfs de i\icadcmie des Inscri/i- 
 tioiis, torn, xxvi.) it may be regarded as a curious monu- 
 ment of the naval skill of the Carthaginians, and one of 
 the most valuable reniains of antiquity. 
 A a
 
 186 
 
 AFRICA. 
 
 A still more \7onclerful voyage is said to have been ac- 
 tomplished some lime before by a Phoenician Hect, which 
 was fitted out by Nccho, king of Egypt. Sailing by his 
 direction, fiom a port in the Red Sea, about 604 years 
 before the Christian era, it proceeded along the eastern 
 coast of Africa, doubled its soutnern promontory, and af- 
 ter a voyage of three years, returned by the Straits of 
 Gades to the moutli of the Nile. This voyage, which is 
 related by Herodotus, who regards it as a fabulous tale, 
 seems to derive conformation from the very circum- 
 stances which appeared to him the most incredible. 
 "The relation of these Phoenicians," says he, " may ob- 
 tain credit from others — tome it seems unworthy of be- 
 lief, — for they declared, that, when sailing round Africa, 
 they had the sun on their right hand." Their account 
 was rejected for the game reason, by many of the most 
 eminent historians and geographers of antiquity, who 
 deemed it impossible, that the sun could any where as- 
 sume a position so different from that in which he had al- 
 ways appeared to themselves. What was regarded by 
 the ancients as a convuicing proof of the falsehood of 
 ihese Phoenicians, has been converted by modem im- 
 provements in science, into the most irresistible evidence 
 of their veracity. By what means, if not from actual 
 observation, could they learn, that, in a certain latitude 
 beyond the equinoctial line, the shadow of bodies falls 
 to the south ; and that Africa is an immense peninsula 
 connected with no other continent, except at the isth- 
 mus of Suez ? It is idle to suppose, that they were led 
 to these conclusions by ingenious conjecture ; or that, 
 with no other reason than vanity, they hazarded them as 
 facts to give an air of miracle to their voyage. In the 
 state of astronomy, when the voyage was undertaken, no 
 conclusions could have appeared more absurd ; and they 
 must have been but awkward blunderers in romance, 
 had they endeavoured to excite astonishment by fictions, 
 which, among the learned at least, could only excite 
 distrust. Yet we must not dissemble the difficulty of 
 reconciling our belief of such a voyage with the im- 
 perfect state of ancient navigation, and with the total 
 ignorance of posterior geographers concerning the form 
 or extent of the African continent, It was cei'tainly 
 possible, however, that the Phoenicians, at that time the 
 most skilful and enterprising mariners in the world, 
 might, by their usual cautious mode of coasting, reach 
 its southern extremity, and proceed in' the same man- 
 ner along its western shores, till they came at length 
 into seas, with which they were better acquainted. Nor 
 can it be wondered, if the perils and difficulties which 
 they must have encountered in their voyage, and which, 
 on their return, they would naturally represent in the 
 strongest terms, should have deterred future navigators 
 from such an arduous undertaking. It is even probable 
 that the maritime jealousy, for which the Phoenicians 
 were remarkable, would induce them to magnify their 
 hardships and dangers, and to give such an imperfect 
 account of their discoveries as could afford no direction 
 to adventurers of other nations. Certain it is, that the 
 circiminavigation of Arica was regarded, both by Greek 
 and Roman geographers, rather as an amusing fiction, 
 than as a real transaction, by which their knowledge 
 was enlarged, or which was entitled to any influence on 
 their opinions. So inaccurate were the ideas of this 
 continent entertained, long after the voyage of the Phoe- 
 nicians, even by men of extensive erudition, that Poly- 
 bius, the most learned and intelligent historian of an- 
 tiquity, informs us, that, in his time, it was not ascer- 
 
 tained whether Africa was a continued continent, stretch- 
 ing towards the south, or whether it was surrounded by 
 the sea. Strabo was equally ignorant of its form ; and 
 Ptolemy, the most inquisitive and best inlbrmed of the 
 ancient geogiaphers, supposed, that it stretched, with- 
 out interruption, to the south pole ; and so far mistook 
 its true figure, that he describes it as becoming broader 
 and broader towards die south. Major Rennell, who 
 has investigated the subject with great accuracy, sup- 
 poses, that the ancients explored the western shores of 
 Africa, as far as Sherboro Sound ; while M. Gosselin 
 is of opinion, that they penetrated no farther than the 
 cape and river of Non, which, according to him, is the 
 Nia of Ptolemy. The opinion of Rennell appears more 
 probable, and is, besides, supported by the authority of 
 D'Anvillc, who supposed the mountains of Sierra Lcona 
 to be those which were denominated by the ancients, thp 
 Chariot of the Gods. Their knowledge of the eastern, 
 coast does not appear to have extended beyond the isle 
 of Pcmba, in Lat. 5° S. But Ptolemy, who resided in 
 Egypt, seems to have possessed a more perfect acquaint- 
 ance with the interior parts of Africa, than has ever been 
 attained by any succeeding geographer. The most re- 
 markable object in his description is the river Gir, which 
 he represents as equal in length to the Niger, but flo*»- 
 ing from east to west, till it is lost in the same marsh, 
 lake, or desert, in which the Niger disappears. It seems 
 to be the same river which Edrisi, the Arabian geogra- 
 pher, denominates the Nile of the Negroes ; and which 
 he describes as flowing towards the west, and disem- 
 boguing itself into an inland sea. 
 
 Africa was divided, by the ancients, into two great 
 branches, which they denominated Africa Propria, and 
 Africa Interior. With regard to the respective limits 
 of these divisions, geographers are not agreed. Under 
 the name of Africa Propria, or the territory of Carthage, 
 Melo and Ptolemy comprehend all the countries situated 
 between the river Anipsaga, now Sussegniar, and the 
 borders of Cyrenaica ; thus including Numidia and the 
 Regio Syrtica, countries quite distinct from the proper 
 territory of Carthage. Other geographers have more 
 accurately described it as bounded by the river Tusca 
 on the west ; on tlie north, by the Mediterranean, or 
 African sea ; on the south, by the frontiers of the Gara- 
 mantes and deserts of Libya Interior; and on the east, 
 by the Mediten-anean and the Lesser Syrtis. In Africa 
 Propria were comprehended two provinces, called Zeu- 
 gitana and Byzacium, nearly corresponding with the 
 summer and whiter circuits of the modern kingdom of 
 Tunis. The limits of Africa Interior were less accurate- 
 ly defined. This vague appellation was applied in gen- 
 eral to those remote and southern provinces of Africa, 
 wliich were scarcely known either to the Greeks or Ro- 
 mans, but by fable or indistinct report. The more pre- 
 cise divisions of this continetjt, so far as it had been ex- 
 plored by the ancients, were Egypt; Cyrenaica, or 
 Pentajiolisi which, with Marmarica, is included under 
 the modern name Barca; Regio Syrtica, afterwards 
 called Trifi'jlis, or Tri/iolitana, now Tripoli; Africa 
 Propria, now Tunis; Numidia, now Algiers; Mau- 
 ritania, including the modern kingdoms of Morocco 
 and Fez; and Getulia, supposed to be the same with 
 Bildulgerid, though its limits have not been exactly as- 
 certained. Libya, though properly applied to the in- 
 terior only, was frequently used as the name of Africa 
 in general ; and all the southern regions were compre- 
 hended under the appellation of jStbiopia.
 
 AFRICA. 
 
 is: 
 
 After the downfal of tlie Roman empire, Africa was 
 scarcely known to Europeans, till the accidental disco- 
 very ol' the Canary Islands excited a general spirit of 
 adventure, which the previous invention of the mariner's 
 compass powerfully aided and increased. In the year 
 1344, Clement VI., in virtue of the right arrogated by 
 the holy see to dispose of all countries possessed by in- 
 fidels, erected these islands into a kingdom, which he 
 bestowed on Lewis de la Ccrda, of the royal family of 
 Castile. But, as they were never visited by that un- 
 fortunate prince, a grant of them was obtained from 
 Henry III. of Castile, by John de Bethencourt, a Nor- 
 man baixjn, who succeeded in conquering them ; and 
 the sovereignty of the Canaries remained for some time 
 in his family, as a fief held of the crown of Spain. Pre- 
 vious to that event, some of Bethencourt's countrymen, 
 who were settled in Normandy, are said to have visited 
 the coast of Africa, and to have advanced far to the soutli 
 of the Canary Isles. But these voyages, suggested by 
 no public plan of discovery, but either by the roving 
 spirit of adventure, which they inherited from their an- 
 cestors, or by the enterprising avarice of private mer- 
 chants, attracted so little attention, that scarce a memo- 
 rial of tliem has been transmitted to our times. 
 
 It was not till the fifteenth century, that the boldness 
 of enterprise, which improving skill in navigation inspir- 
 ed, and the ardent curiosity natural to minds just emerg- 
 ing from ignorance, and expanding with more enlarged 
 ideas, suggested regular plans of discovery, which at 
 length conducted the navigator to a new world, and to 
 regions hitherto unexplored. The Portuguese took the 
 lead in this glorious career. A great armament was 
 equipped by John I. of Portugal, destined to attack the 
 Moors on the coast of Barbary. Several vessels were 
 appointed to sail before it, to the western shores of 
 Africa, in quest of countries which yet remained un- 
 known. At that time, navigation was still very imper- 
 fect ; the voyages of the Portuguese had hitherto been 
 limited by Cape Non ; but the vessels sent on this ex- 
 pedition passed that dreaded promontory, and proceeded 
 as far as Cape Bojador, 160 miles beyond the progress 
 of former navigators. The breakers, which dashed with 
 tremendous fury over the cliffs of Bojador, projecting 
 far into the Atlantic, deterred them from attempting to 
 sail round it ; but their success gave new ardour to the 
 passion for discovery, and roused the emulation of suc- 
 ceeding adventurers. The flattering prospects which 
 now began to open on the African continent, were cher- 
 ished with enthusiasm by Henry, fourth son of John, a 
 prince of rare talents, enlightened and polished beyond 
 the age in which lie lived. Capable of conceiving the 
 grandest designs, his judgment readily discerned how 
 far they were practicable ; and when his resolutions wci-e 
 once fornned, he prosecuted them with an ardour and a 
 decision which no obstacle could withstand. Geography 
 had been his favourite study. He had accompanied his 
 father on his expedition to Barbary ; and comparing the 
 discoveries then made by the fleet, with the accounts of 
 intelligent travellers, he was convinced of the proba- 
 bility of finding new and opulent countries in the more 
 southern latitudes of Africa. To indulge without in- 
 terruption these enchanting prospects, and to mature 
 his schemes for realizing them, he withdrew from court 
 on his return from Barbary, and fixed his residence at 
 Sagres, where the view of the Atlantic constantly re- 
 minded him of his favourite project, and directed all 
 his meditations to the means of its completion. He soon 
 
 fitted out a single vessel, and Intrusting the command ol 
 It to Gonzalez Zarco and Tristan Vaz, two gentlemen 
 ol his household', who voluntarily undertook the enter- 
 prise, he instructed tnem to endeavour, Ijy all means, to 
 double Cape Bojador, and advance iarUier towards thr 
 south. The timid mode of coasting, which still pre- 
 vailed, would probably have prevented them irom ac- 
 complishing the object of their voyage; but theii- ef- 
 forts were rewarded by an accidental discovery, which 
 proved equally satisfactory to then- nraster. A sudden 
 squall of wind drove them out to sea, and carried them 
 to an unknown island, which in conmieinoration of their 
 escape from shipwreck, tliey named Purio Santo. When 
 they returned to Portugal, Hemy received with trans- 
 port the account of an adventure, which seemed to en- 
 large the field of discovery ; and pursuing his favourite 
 project with keener ardour and more sanguine hope, he 
 next year sent out three ships, under the same command- 
 ers, along with Bartholomew Perestrello, to take pos- 
 session of the island to which they had so fortunately 
 been driven. From Porto Santo they observed, towards 
 the south, a fixed spot in the horizon, which they con- 
 jectured to be land ; and, directing their course towards 
 it, they came to a considerable island, uninhabited and 
 covered with wood, which, from that circumstance, they 
 called Madeira. Their voyages to these islands accus- 
 tomed the Portuguese to a bolder navigation. Gilianez, 
 who commanded one of Henry's ships, venturing into 
 the open sea, doubled Cape Bojador, and discovered the 
 vast continent of Africa, still washed by the Atlantic 
 ocean, and stretching, apparently without limits to the 
 south. These successes gave a stronger impulse to the 
 adventurous curiosity of the Portuguese. In a few years, 
 they advanced within the tropics, discovered the river 
 Senegal, and explored all the coast of Africa, from Cape 
 Blanco to the Cape de Verd. 
 
 Henry, now completely convinced of the importance 
 of those projects, which he had so successfully pursued, 
 obtained, from Pope Eugene IV., a grant of all the coun- 
 tries already known, or yet to be discovered, from Cape 
 Non to the continent of India ; and had his zeal been 
 seconded by that skill in navigation, which was after- 
 wards attained, he would probably have reaped the full 
 advantage of that liberal donation. A modern sailor 
 would hear with surprise, that, notwithstanding all his 
 exertions, not more than fifteen hundred miles of the 
 African coast were in his days explored. Yet to have 
 passed the limits, which till then were supposed to ter- 
 minate the continent of Africa ; to have found out shores 
 and islands unheard of before, were achievements which 
 drew the attention of all Europe, and awakened that gen- 
 eral spirit of curiosity, which has since been rewarded 
 with the discovery of another continent, and which was 
 not to subside while one sea remained untraversed, or 
 one country unknown. The Portuguese eagerly second- 
 ed the designs of their prince. The whole nation seem- 
 ed to be animated with the same enthusiasm. Private 
 companies of merchants sent out fleets in quest of un- 
 known countries ; and thus the Cape de Verd islands 
 were discovered in the year 1446, and the Azores soon 
 after. 
 
 Alphonso, who occupied the throne of Portugal after 
 Henry's death, was too much engaged in war to pro- 
 secute with much ardour the discoveries in Africa. Yet, 
 during his reign, the Portuguese ventured to cross the 
 line ; and were surprised to find those regions populous 
 and fertile, which they had imagined to be scorched with 
 Aa 2
 
 iHb 
 
 AFiaCA. 
 
 intolerable heat. John II., who buccccdcd liis father 
 Alphonso, fully aware ol the importance of these new 
 acquisitions, entered into the schemes of his giand- 
 uncle Henry, witli all that prince's zeal, and with very 
 superior '.ulvantaijcs. Under his patronage, a powerful 
 fleet was sent out, which discovered the kingdoms of 
 Uenhi and Congo, and advanced tifteen hundred miles 
 beyond the equinoctial line ; where the adventurers be- 
 held with astonishment, a new heaven, filled with stars 
 which they had never before seen. Anxious to secuie 
 the possession of those countries, which his subjects 
 had discovered, John planted colonies, and erected torts 
 on the coast of Guinea ; entered into a commercial con- 
 nexion with its more powerful sovereigns ; rendered 
 others the vassals of his crown ; and, by a regular and 
 well digested system of policy, established, upon a solid 
 foundation, the power and commerce of the Portuguese 
 in Africa. Till this time Ptolemy had been the oracle 
 of geographers, and Africa was supposed, according to 
 his doctrine, to become broader towards the south. But 
 the Portuguese, as their knowledge of that continent in- 
 creased, found, that, beyond the Equator, it inclined sen- 
 sibly towards the east. The Phoenician circumnaviga- 
 tion, which, on the authority of the ancient geographers, 
 they had hitherto regarded as fabulous, now appeared 
 probable ; and suggested the hope, that, by following a 
 similar route, they might open a maritime communica- 
 tion with India, and engross the lucrative covnmcice of 
 that country. 
 
 Meanwhile, intelligence had been received from va- 
 rious nations on the African coast, that tiiere existed a 
 kingdom in the east of that continent, governed by a 
 powerful monarch, who professed the Christian religion. 
 John immediately concluded, that this must be the king 
 of Abyssinia ; and, hoping to receive from a Christian 
 prince the information and assistance necessary for pro- 
 moting his schemes of discovery, which obviously tend- 
 ed to propagate their common faith, he was desirous, if 
 possible, to open an intercourse with this unknown and 
 distant court. Two men, named Covillan and Payva, 
 well skilled in the Arabic language, were appointed am- 
 bassadors to the Abyssinian monarch ; with particular 
 directions to collect whatever information they could 
 concerning the trade of India, and the possibility of sail- 
 ing thither by the way of Africa. With the same grand 
 object in view, he sent out a fleet under the command of 
 Bartholomew Diaz, whom he directed to reach, if pos- 
 sible, the southern extremity of the African continent; 
 and explore that passage, which it was now his highest 
 ambition to ascertain. The experience and fortitude of 
 Diaz eminently qualified him for an undertaking of such 
 difficulty and importance. Undaunted by the tempests, 
 which he encountered in those unknown seas ; unmoved 
 by the frequent mutinies of his crew, or by the more 
 dreadful jM'ospect of fomine, which from the loss of his 
 store-ship he had reason to fear, he resolutely proceed- 
 ed on his voyage, till, after discovering more than a 
 thousand miles of new country, he at length descried 
 the lofty promontory, by which Africa is terminated on 
 the south. But he could do no more than descry it. 
 The increasing violence of the storms, the shattered state 
 of his ships, and the turbulence of his crew, compelled 
 him to return ; and he called the promontory, in search 
 of which he had encountered so much hardship anddan- 
 p;er, Ca/)o Tormcntoso, or the Stormy Cafie. But his sove- 
 reign, confident that he had now found the long- 
 wished-for passage to India, gave it a na^me of better 
 
 omen, which it has ever since j-etained, the Caju of iJood 
 
 Hrj/iC. 
 
 The intelligence which Covillan transmitted from 
 Abyssinia, contirmed these encour. ging liopes ; and the 
 Portuguese monarch, as he approaclied the completion 
 of his great design, was so totally occupied with lorming 
 plans for that purpose, and agitated with such anxiety 
 for their succe:.s, that he could bestow no attention on 
 the other duties of his government. At length, he 
 e<|uipped a powerful stjuadron, on the success of which 
 the result of his favourite project was destined to de- 
 pend. The conduct of this eventful voyage was com- 
 mitted to V^asquez de Gama, a man of noble birth, pos- 
 sessed of talents and intrepidity ec|ual to such an arduous 
 enterprise. Not yet accjuainted with the proper seasons 
 for navigating the Atlantic ocean, he set sail in July, and 
 had to struggle for four months with contrary winds be- 
 fore he reached the Cape. A calm at length succeeded, 
 which enabled him to accomplish the important object 
 of his voyage. He passed the southern extremity of 
 Africa; explored its eastern shores as far as Melinda, 
 in Zanguebar ; and, sailing thence towards India, arriv- 
 ed at Calicut on the 22d of May 1498. Unprovided with 
 a military force sufficient to attempt a settlement on that 
 coast, or with the commodities necessary for trading with 
 the Indians, he liastcned to return to Europe ; and land- 
 ed at Lisbon on the 14th of September, 1499, after an 
 absence of two years, two months, and five days. To 
 this voyage, the longest, the most diflicult, and, next to 
 that of Columbus, which had been accomplished about 
 seven years before, the most important that had ever been 
 undertaken, we are indebted for the discovery of the 
 southern and eastern boundaries of Africa; and for the 
 origin of the maritime trade with India, from which 
 Europe in general, and our own counti^" in particular, 
 has since derived such extensive advantage. 
 
 The knowledge of Europeans, with regard to the in- 
 terior of Africa, did not keep pace with the discoveries 
 on its coasts. Early in the sixteenth century, indeed, 
 Leo Africanus had given an ample description of its 
 northern regions, though he appears to have been im- 
 perfectly acquainted with this continent in general. Al- 
 varez published a minute account of Abysshiia, which 
 he had visited in 1520, and in which he had resided for 
 a considerable time : and the geography of that country 
 was further illustrated by the Journals of Lcbo and Tel- 
 lez. From the Portuguese, who had many factories and 
 settlements in the west and whose sovereigns had assum- 
 ed the additional title of king of Guinea, we derive our 
 earliest knowledge of some of its interior countries, and 
 of its most considerable kingdoms and empires. Abys- 
 si.vi.v, MocARANG.\, MoxoMUGi ; ou the western coast, 
 the kingdoms of Benin, Congo, Angola, Matamba, 
 and LoANGo ; on the eastern, Sofala, Mozambique, 
 QuiLOA, Mombaza, and Melinda, were first made 
 known to Europeans by the Portuguese ; and their mis- 
 sionaries collected much important information concern- 
 ing the customs, laws, government, and religion of these 
 various kingdoms. The advantages which the Portu- 
 guese derived from their settlements in Africa, would 
 probably have directed to the same quarter the spirit of 
 enterprise and activity which then began to prevail in 
 Europe, and that vast continent might have been long 
 since explored, and have advanced considerably in civi- 
 lization, had not the voyage of De Gama unfolded to the 
 merchant richer prospects in India ; while the more 
 splendid discovery of Columbus presented a new world 
 
 I
 
 A Fine A. 
 
 189 
 
 to tlic ambilioii unci curiobily ol ilic iulveiiUU'L-r. Tlic 
 lucrative, but detestable slave-trade has induced sonic of 
 the European states to form settlements on tlie westerri 
 coast ol Africa. A few lactories, for this purpose, have 
 been established to the north of the Equator, by the Eng- 
 lish, French, and Spaniards. The Portuguese have si- 
 milar establishments, both on the eastern and western 
 shores, from the Equator to the tropic of Capricorn ; and 
 the Dutch have regularly colonized the Cape of Good 
 Hope. But, if we except the laudable exertions of the 
 Sierra Leona Company, and the benevolent project of the 
 Swedes to establish an agricultural colony in Africa, no 
 attempt has yet been made to open such a regular and 
 friendly intercourse with the natives, as might lead to 
 a more extensive knowledge of their country; and, by 
 a commerce conducted on the principles ol humanity 
 and justice, might procure to Europeans its most valua- 
 ble productions. 
 
 From the first voyages of the Portuguese till near the 
 close of the eighteenth century, our knowledge of this 
 continent scarcely extended beyond its coasts. Except a 
 few lines traced on its margin, the map of Africa was a 
 ■wide extended blank, on which the geographer, accord- 
 ing to his own conjecture, or on the doubtful authority 
 of the Xerift' Edrisi and Leo Africanus, delineated the 
 fancied course of unexplored rivers, or marked the posi- 
 tion of towns and nations as little ascertained. The ef- 
 forts of De la Brue and of Moore, had not much contri- 
 buted to remove the thick darkness which covered this 
 quarter of the globe. More than half a century had 
 elapsed since the period of their travels, before the Se- 
 negal was traced higher than the falls of Felu ; or the 
 Gambia, than the falls of Baraconda. For the scanty 
 knowledge which was obtained of the interior, we are 
 chiefly indebted to a few spirited individuals, who, with 
 a generous ardour in the cause of science, had penetrat- 
 ed, in different directions, these unhospitable regions, 
 undeterred by the variety of danger which they had con- 
 stantly to encounter in their progress. Sparrman and 
 Paterson had travelled in CafiVaria, which was after- 
 wards more fully explored by Vaillant, who has describ- 
 ed the situation, political stale, customs and manners of 
 various nations, till then unknown to Europeans even by 
 Dame. Morocco, Algiers, Tunis, and Tripoli, had long 
 been generally known ; and our acquaintance with Egypt, 
 Nubia, and Abyssinia, was considerably enlarged by the 
 communications of Norden and Bruce. 
 
 Such was the state of African geography, when a few 
 English gentlemen of rank and learning, considering 
 our ignorance of that continent as a reproach upon an 
 age, in other respects so enlightened, formed them- 
 selves into an Association ftjr liromoting the Discovery 
 of the Interior Parts o/" Africa. 
 
 Scarcely was this society instituted, when two gentle- 
 men were engaged in the advancement of these schemes 
 of discovery, whose talents and courage eminently qua- 
 lified them for such an arduous service. One of them 
 named Ledyard, by birth an American, feeling from his 
 earliest youth an irresistible desire to explore those re- 
 gions of the globe, which were yet vmdiscovered, or 
 imperfectly known, had passed several years among the 
 Indians in America, studying their manners and habits, 
 and had thus learned how to recommend himself to the 
 favour and protection of savages. He had accompanied 
 captain Cooke in his voyage round the world, descend- 
 ing to the humble situation of corporal of marines, ra- 
 
 ther than forego an opportunity so inviting to his iiuiuisi- 
 tive and adventurous spirit, lie next resolved to traverse 
 the continent of America, from the north-west coast 
 which Cooke had partly explored, to the eastern coast, 
 with which he himself was already perfcclly familiar 
 Disappointed in his intention of sailing on a voyage of 
 commercial adventure to Nootka Sound, he crossed the 
 British channel to Ostend, with only ten guineas in his 
 piuse ; determined to travel overland to Kamschatka, 
 whence the passage is short to the western coast of 
 America. When he came to the Gulf of Bothnia, he 
 attempted to cross it on the ice, that he might reach 
 Kamschatka by the shortest way ; but finding that the 
 water was not frozen in the middle, he returned to 
 Stockholm ; travelled northward into the Arctic circle ; 
 and passing round the head of the gulf, descended on its 
 eastern side to Pctersburgh. There his extraordinary 
 appearance attracted general notice. Without stock- 
 ings or shoes, and too poor to provide himself with either, 
 he was invited to dine with the Portuguese ambassador, 
 who supplied him with twenty guineas on the credit of 
 sir Joseph Banks, and through whose interest he ob- 
 tained permission to accompany a detachment of stores 
 which was to be sent to Yakutz, for the use of Mr Bil- 
 lings, an Englishman who was intrusted with the 
 schemes of northern discovery, in which the empress 
 was then engaged. From Yakutz, which is situated in 
 Siberia, 6(iOO miles cast of Petersburgh, he proceeded 
 to Oczakow, on the Kamschatkan Sea ; but, as the navi- 
 gation was completely obstructed by the ice, he return- 
 ed to Yakutz, intending to wait for the conclusion of the 
 winter. Here, in consequence of some unaccountable 
 suspicion, he was seized in the name of the empress by 
 two Russian soldiers, who conveyed him, in the depth 
 of winter, through the north of Tartary, to the frontier 
 of the Polish dominions ; assuring him at their depar- 
 ture, that if he returned to Russia, he should certainly 
 be hanged, but if he chose to return to England, they 
 wished him a pleasant journey. Poor, forlorn, and 
 friendless, covered with rags, and exhausted by hard- 
 ship, disease, and misery, he proceeded to Koningsberg, 
 where the interest of sir Joseph Banks enabled him to 
 procure the sum of five guineas, by means of which he 
 arrived in England. 
 
 He waited immediately on sir Joseph, who, knowing 
 his disposition, informed him, that he could recommend 
 him to an adventure as perilous as that from which he 
 had just returned, and communicated to him the views 
 of the Association for discovering the Inland Countries 
 of Africa. Ledyard entered with enthusiasm into an 
 enterprise which he had already projected for himself;, 
 and receiving from sir Joseph a letter of introduction 
 to one of the members of the committee appointed to 
 direct the business, and promote the object of the asso- 
 ciation, he went to him without delay. The description 
 which that gentleman has given of their first interview, 
 strongly marks the character of this hardy traveller. 
 ". Before I had learned," says he, " from the note, the 
 name and business of my visiter, I was struck with the 
 manUness of his person, the breadth of his chest, the 
 openness of his countenance, and the inquietude of his 
 eye. I spread the map of Africa before him, and tracing' 
 a line from Cairo to Sennaar, and from thence westward 
 in the latitude and supposed direction of the Niger, I 
 told him that was the route by which I was anxious that 
 Africa might, if possible, be explored. He said he
 
 190 
 
 AFRICA. 
 
 should think himselt singularly fortunate to be intrusted 
 with the adventure. 1 asked him when he would set out ? 
 To-morrow morning, was his answer. 
 
 From such zeal, decision, and intrepidity, the Society 
 naturally formed the most sanguine expectations. Mr 
 Ledyard sailed from London on the 30th of June, 1788, 
 and in thirty-six days, seven of which were spent in 
 Paris, and two at Marseilles, arrived in the city ot Alex- 
 andria ; and having there assumed the dress, and been 
 instructed in the manners requisite for an Egyptian tra- 
 veller, proceeded to Cairo, which he readied on the 
 19th of August. Ledyard travelled with peculiar ad- 
 vantages. Endowed with an original and comprehen- 
 sive genius, he beheld with interest, and described with 
 energy, the scenes and objects around him ; and by com- 
 paring them with what he had seen in other regions of 
 the globe, he was enabled to give his narrative all the 
 varied effect of contrast and resemblance. His remarks 
 on Lower Egypt, had tliat country been less generally 
 known, might have ranked with the most vamable of 
 geographical records ; and greatly heightened the opi- 
 nion which his employers already entertained of his sin- 
 gular qualifications for the task which he had under- 
 taken. Nor was his residence in Cairo altogether use- 
 less to the association. By visiting the slave markets, 
 and by conversing w ith the Jelabs, or travelling mer- 
 chants of the caravans, he obtained, without any expense, 
 a better idea of the people of Africa, of its trade, of the 
 position of places, the nature of the country, and the 
 manner of travelling, than he could, by any other means, 
 have acquired : and the communications on tliese sub- 
 jects, which he transmitted to England, interesting and 
 instructive as they were, afforded the society the most 
 gratifying proofs of the ardent spirit of inquiry, the un- 
 wearied attention, the persevering research, and the la- 
 borious, indefatigable, anxious zeal with which their au- 
 thor pursued the object of his mission. — Proceedings of 
 the African Association frjr 1790, p. 40, 4to. 
 
 He had announced to his employers, that he had re- 
 ceived letters of earnest recommendation from the Aga; 
 that the day of his departure was appointed ; that his 
 next despatch should be dated from Sennaar; and the 
 committee expected with impatience, the result of his 
 journey. But that journey was never to be performed. 
 The vexation occasioned by repeated delays in the de- 
 parture of the caravan, brought on a bilious complaint, 
 which, being increased at first by incautious treatment, 
 baffled the skill of the most approved physicians of 
 Cairo. The society heard, with deep concern, of the 
 death of a man, whose high sense of honour, magnani- 
 mous contempt of danger, and earnest zeal for the ex- 
 tension of knowledge had been so conspicuously dis- 
 played in their service; whose ardour, tempered by 
 calm deliberation, whose daring spirit, seconded by the 
 most prudent caution, and whose impatience of control, 
 united with the power of supporting any fatigue, or en- 
 durhig any suffering, seemed to have qualified him, above 
 all other men, for the very arduous task of traversing 
 the widest and most dangerous part of the continent of 
 Africa. " I am accustomed," said he on the morning 
 of his departure from London, " I am accustomed to 
 hardships. My distresses have been gi-eater than I have 
 ever owned, or ever will own to any man. Such evils 
 are terrible to bear, but they never yet had power to 
 turn me from my purpose. If I live, I will faithfully 
 perform, in its utmost extent, my engagement to the 
 Society ; and if I perish in the attempt, my honour will 
 
 still be safe, for death cancels all bonds." Should oui- 
 readers be disposed to complain, thatwc have dwell too 
 long upon tlie character and history of a man wlio never 
 penetrated into Africa farther than Cairo, let the inter- 
 esting nature of the subject plead our excuse. As liie 
 first missionary of the African Association, he had an 
 unuoubted claim to our notice, and we saould have 
 tlioUj^lil It unjust to estimate that claim merely by the 
 extent of his discoveries. We felt a melanciioly plea- 
 sure m contemplaUng his qualifications for tlie most 
 difficult task wliich had ever been assigned to any indi- 
 viUuai ; and in comparing his extraordinary achievements 
 with what he miglit still have performed, had he lived 
 to prosecute his unlerpiise. 
 
 Limited as his progress unfortunately was, he yet 
 found means to extend our knowledge of the countries 
 and manners of Africa. He remarked, that the Mahom- 
 medans iir tnat continent, like the Russians in Siberia, 
 were a trading, enterprising, superstitious set of vaga- 
 bonds, who cannot afford to traverse Africa without trad- 
 ing by the way, and therefore made no journeys or voya- 
 ges, either merely commercial, or merely religious. 
 They pass in caravans to Sennaar, Darfiir, Wangara, 
 and Abyssinia, ignorant of geography, wnich they have 
 no desire to learn, for they can sing, and dance, and 
 traffic without it. For gum, ivory, and slaves, they 
 trade to Darfur, the inhabitants of which country he re- 
 presents to be in as savage a state as human beings can 
 be ; they are a sizeable, well formed people, with the 
 true Guinea face, and curled short hair. To Sennaar the 
 Jelabs carry, in general, trinkets ; for which they bring 
 in return elephant's teeth, gum, ostrich feathers, camels, 
 and slaves. The king of Sennaar is himself a merchant, 
 and is not only concerned in the trade of the caravans, 
 but keeps an agent or procurer at Cairo. Wangara was 
 described to him as a kingdom abounding in gold ; of 
 which the king issues sometimes very little, and some- 
 times a great deal, to prevent strangers from guessing 
 at the extent of his riches, and on their account molest- 
 ing his peace. A caravan goes from Cairo to Fezzan, 
 which is reckoned a journey of fifty days ; and from 
 Fezzan to Tombuctoo, a journey of ninety days. As 
 the caravans travel at the rate of twenty miles a day, 
 the distance from Cairo to Fezzan may thus be comput- 
 ed at 1000 miles, and from Fezzan to Tombuctoo 1800 
 miles. From Cairo to Sennaar the distance is 600 miles. 
 Such are the principal observations made by Mr Led- 
 yard while m Egypt. They display the energy and pene- 
 tration of a mind unbiassed by theory or prejudice, and 
 enlarged by an extensive intercourse with men. 
 
 Mr Lucas, another gentleman who was engaged by 
 the Association about the same time as Ledyard, had 
 been sent, when a boy, to Spain, to be there educated as 
 a merchant; and being captured dn his return by a 
 Sallee rover, had been carried as a slave to the court of 
 Morocco. After three years of captivity, he was allow- 
 ed to depart for Gibraltar, where he was invested with 
 the offices of Vice Consul and Charge d'Affaires in the 
 empire of Morocco ; and thus returned, as the delegate 
 of his sovereign, to the very kingdom in which he had so 
 long been detained as a slave. Having continued for 
 sixteen years in that situation, he returned to England, 
 and was soon appointed Oriental-Interpreter to the Bri- 
 tish court. When the African Association was formed, 
 he expressed his willingness, provided he could obtain 
 his Majesty's approbation, to undertake any journey 
 which his knowledge of the manners, customs, and Ian-
 
 AFRICA. 
 
 191 
 
 I'liagc of the Arubs, might qualify him to perform. His 
 Majesty not only allowed him to engage in the service of 
 th& Society, but continued, during his absence, his 
 salary as Oriental interpreter ; and the committee allotted 
 him the passage of the Desert, from Tripoli to Fezzan, 
 with which the traders of Agadez, Tombuctoo, and 
 other towns in the interior, had established a frequent 
 and regular intercourse. Whatever intelligence con- 
 cerning the inland regions he could receive from these 
 merchants, or fron» the people of Fezzan, he was to 
 transmit by the way of Tripoli ; and afterwards to return 
 by Gambia, or the coast of Guinea. 
 
 With these instruciions he sailed from Marseilles on 
 the 18th of October 1788, and in seven days after arrived 
 at Tripoli. The Tripoline ambassador, who had for- 
 merly resided in England, introduced him to the ba- 
 shaw, who eagerly inquired into the motives of his in- 
 tended journey to Fezzan, a journey which no Christian 
 had ever attempted. Mr Lucas told him, that he wished 
 to examine various Roman antiquities, which, he had 
 heard, existed in that kingdom, and to collect some 
 medicinal plants which could not be procured in Europe. 
 The bashaw appeared satisfied, and promised to forward 
 his journey. After some delay, he set out with two 
 shereefs, who had come from Fezzan with slaves, senna, 
 and other articles of merchandise. Descended from 
 Mahomet, the persons of these shereefs were secure 
 from violence, and tiieir property from plunder. One of 
 them, named Fawad, was brother-in-law to the king, of 
 a dignified and sedate manner; the other, named Im- 
 hammed, was a lively old man, affable, free, and enter- 
 taining. They oflcred to take Mr Lucas under their 
 protection; and their proposal was approved of by the 
 bashaw, who presented him with a handsome mule ; 
 while the bey, his son, presented him with a tent, and 
 gave him a letter of recommendation to the king of 
 Fezzan. On the first of February 1789, their little cara- 
 van left Tripoli, and proceeded towards Fezzan, by the 
 way of Mesurata; which, though less direct, is safer 
 than the passage by Guariano, as on that route travellers 
 are not exposed to the rapacity of the tribes Hooled Ben 
 Soliman,and Benioleed. After passing Tajarah, a wretch- 
 ed collection of clay -built huts, they encamped for the 
 night upon a sandy eminence ; and piling their loads in 
 a circle, lighted up their fires, and spread their mats 
 within it. In these journeys very few incumber them- 
 selves with tents. Without any covering but their al- 
 haiques, or blankets, they lie down amidst the heavy 
 dews and occasional rains ; and such is the salubrity of 
 the air, that they receive no injury from these uncom- 
 fortable exposures. The second day was spent in tra- 
 velling amidst dreary hills of loose sand, where they met 
 neither man nor beast ; neither wood nor water was any 
 where to be seen. They encamped in a small valley 
 between the hills, over which the sand was driven with 
 every gale. Next day, about two in the afternoon, they 
 emerged from these hills of sand, and v/cre delighted 
 with the distant view of date and olive trees, white 
 thorn, and Spanish broom ; yet the soil was stony and 
 dry, diversified here and there with a few fields of grain, 
 whose scanty and meagre appearance marked an un- 
 gracious and sullen vegetation. On the fourth day, 
 alter proceeding for three hours amidst a continued 
 succession of rocky hills, the caravan came to the en- 
 trance of an extensive plain, where the olive trees, in- 
 termingled with dates, rose in luxuriant beauty. Two 
 hours after, they reached the town of Lebida, on the 
 
 sea coast, where the ruins of a temple, and of several 
 triumphal arches, recal the idea of Roman magnifi- 
 cence ; while the beauty and fertility of the adjoining 
 plain, and the remabis of a stupendous acpicduct, which 
 once conveyed to Lebida the water of a distant hill, give 
 a pleasing, though melancholy, interest to the scene. 
 As they advanced towards Mesurata, on the sixth day 
 of their journey, they were alarmed by accounts of the 
 depredations committed by the tribe Hooled Hen Soli- 
 man. Next day they fell in with a party of Arabs, whom 
 they supposed to be enemies, and resolved to attack; 
 but to their great joy, as they were just levelling their 
 muskets, the Arabs recognised them as friends ; and 
 their mutual terror was followed by tlie mostexti^avagant 
 marks of exultation. They ran round each other like 
 frightened sheep ; and, after dancing, shouting, and 
 twirling their muskets round their heads till they were 
 tired, tiicy sat down, and began reciprocal congratula- 
 tions on their safety. The caravan proceeded, and at 
 six in the evening arrived at Mesurata. Mr Lucas was 
 received with great politeness by the governor, who 
 had long resided in Italy; but as he was unable to pro- 
 cure the number of camels necessary to convey their 
 goods to Fezzan, the shereefs, after waiting some time 
 at Mesurata, resolved to proceed to the places where 
 they intended to reside during summer ; and Mr Lucas, 
 finding it impossible to advance this season to Fezzan, 
 returned to Tripoli about the end of March, and thence 
 proceeded by the way of Malta and Marseilles for Eng- 
 land, where he arrived on the 26th of July. 
 
 While detained at Mesurata, he employed himself in 
 procuring from Imhammed, an account of Fezzan, and 
 the countries beyond it towards the south, which the 
 shereef had visited as a factor in the slave-trade. Dis- 
 playing before him a map of Africa, which he intended 
 as a present for the king of Fezzan, he requested his 
 assistance to render it more correct; promising him at 
 the same time a copy for himself, when it should be 
 completed according to his information. The governor, 
 to whom he read the memorandums which he procured 
 in this manner, confirmed the accuracy of the shereePs 
 relation ; but the committee had obtained a more deci- 
 sive test of its value, by procuring from Ben AUi, a na- 
 tive of Morocco, an account of his extensive travels, as 
 a merchant, in the countries south of the Sahara. 
 Though the remarks of Ben AUi seemed those of a 
 superficial observer, possessed of activity of spirit, ra- 
 ther than strength of judgment; and though his recol- 
 lection of the scenes which he described was impaired 
 by an absence of twenty years, the general features of 
 his narrative coincided so exactly with that of the she- 
 reef, as fully to authenticate the information which the 
 latter had imparted to Mr Lucas. Their accounts ex- 
 tended the geography of Africa from Fezzan, across the 
 eastern division of the Desert, to Bornow, Cashna, and 
 the Niger. 
 
 Two years elapsed after the return of Mr Lucas, be- 
 fore the Association published any new account of their 
 proceedings ; but, during that interval, they had received 
 new and interesting intelligence, through distinct and 
 unconnected channels. An Arab, named Shabeni, had 
 excited their early attention, by an account of an empire 
 on the banks of the Niger. Its capital, Houssa, where 
 he had resided two years, he described as vying with 
 London or Cairo in extent and population. The govern- 
 ment of this empire he represented as a limited monar- 
 chy, whose jurisdiction, though severe, was directed by
 
 192 
 
 AFRICA. 
 
 wrilicn laws. He mentioned un in.stitutioii of hcrcdiuiry 
 officers, who guarded tlie riglils ol lanUed properly, and 
 whose complicated and important duties, resembling 
 those of tne Canongoes ot Huiuostan, iu\plied an unu- 
 sual degree of civilization and refinement. He extolled 
 the probity ol their merchants; but rema.ked with in- 
 dignation, that, as the women were admitted to society, 
 the honour of husbands was endangered. Uf their writ- 
 ten alphabet, he only knew that it bore no resemblance 
 to tlic Hebrew or Arabic characters ; the art of writing 
 he represented as common in Houssa ; and when he 
 acted the manner in wliich their pottery was fabricated, 
 he described, without knowing it, the ancient Grecian 
 wheel. 
 
 Between Houssa and Tombuctoo, the banks of the 
 Niger, according to hu account, are more populous 
 than those of the Nile from Alexandria to Cairo ; and 
 to his mind, the empire of Houssa obviously appeared 
 to exceed in opulence and grandeur any kingdom that 
 he had ever seen, with the exception of England alone. 
 His relation was strongly confirmed by letters which the 
 committee received Iroin the British consuls at Tunis 
 and Morocco ; and which contained this additional inlor- 
 mation, that, in both these kingdoms, the eunuchs of 
 the seraglio were brought from the city of Houssa. 
 
 Eager to investigate the truth of these accounts, and 
 to explore the course and origin of a river, which might 
 open to Britain a commercial intercourse with rich and 
 populous nations, the committee gladly accepted the 
 proposals of a new adventurer, who now tendered them 
 his services. His name was Major Houghton ; he had 
 formerly been a captain in the 69th regiment, and in the 
 year 1779, had acted as Fort-Major in the island of Go- 
 ree. He was instructed to ascertain the course, and, if 
 possible, the rise and termination of the Niger; and, 
 after visiting the cities of Tombuctoo and Houssa, to 
 return by the way of the Desert, or by any other route 
 which the chxumstanccs of his situation at the time 
 should recommend to his choice. 
 
 Having sailed fronu England on the 16lh of October 
 1790, he arrived on the 10th of November at the en- 
 trance of the Gambia. He was kindly received by the 
 king of Bana, to whom he had formerly paid a visit from 
 the island of Ciorce ; and who now in return for a present 
 which the major had made him, offered him, his pro- 
 tection and assistance, as far as his influence extended. 
 With an interpreter whom he had engaged on the coast, 
 he proceeded in an English vessel up the river to Jun- 
 kiconda ; and having there purchased a horse and five 
 asses, prepared to pass, with the merchandise which 
 constituted his travelling fund, to Medina, the capital of 
 the small kingdom of WooUi. A few words accidentally 
 dropped by a negro woman, in the Mandingo language, 
 of which he had hastily acquired a superficial know- 
 ledge, warned him of a conspiracy formed against his 
 life by the negro mistresses of the traders, who dreaded 
 from the major's expedition the ruin of their commerce. 
 To frustrate their machinations, he availed himself of 
 the opportunity which the dry season and ebb tide af- 
 forded, of swimming his horse and asses across the 
 stream ; and proceeding with much difficulty on its 
 southern bank, to that district of Cantor which is oppo- 
 site the kingdom of Woolli, he there recrossed the 
 Gambia, and despatched a messenger to infoim the king 
 of his arrival, and to request a guard for his protection. 
 An escort, commanded by the king's son, was immedi- 
 ately sent, and the major was graciousJy received, and 
 
 hospitably erilertaincd at Medina. The liappincss and 
 security which he here enjoyed, contrasiea with the 
 dangers from which he had jus^ escaped, excited in his 
 mind the m.ost pleasing reflections ; while the richness 
 and salubrity of the countiy inspired him with the most 
 animating hopes. In a leiter to his wife, he expicsses 
 his earnest expectation that she would hereafter accom- 
 pany him to a place where they could live in ailiucncc on 
 ten pounds a year, and where they could not fail to accu- 
 mulate in a short time prodigious wealth, from the lu- 
 crative commerce which the country would afl'ord. This 
 flattering dream of prosperity was soon to be succeeded 
 by accumulated misfortunes : — A fire destroyed his 
 house, and consumed several of the articles of merchan- 
 dise which were to defray the expenses of his journey ; 
 his treacherous interpreter disappeared with his horse, 
 and three of his asses ; a trade gun, which he had pur- 
 chased on the river, burst in his hands, and wounded him 
 in the face and arm. With the wreck of his fortune he 
 set out from Medina, on the evening of the 8th of May ; 
 and proceeding by a north-east course, arrived on the 
 fifth day at the uninhabited frontier which separates the 
 kingdoms of Woolli and Bondou, beyond the former limits 
 of European discovery. In this unvisited country, which 
 he found very populous, the long black hair and copper 
 complexion of the natives, indicated their Arab original. 
 They belong to that numerous tribe, which, under the 
 name of Foulahs, have overspread a great partof Sene- 
 gambia, and, like the inhabitants of Woolli, are divided 
 into Bushreens, or Mahommedans,and Sonikees, or men 
 who drink strong liquors — whose nmtual harmony is un- 
 disturbed by the difference of their religious opinions. 
 After a journey of 150 miles, he arrived at the banks of 
 the Falenie, the south-western boundary of the kingdom 
 of Banibouta. The woolly hair, and sable complexion 
 of the inhabitants of this kingdom bespeak them of the 
 negro race. Chiefly engaged in agriculture and pas- 
 turage, they have yet made such progress in the manu- 
 facturing arts, as to be able to smelt their iron ore, and 
 to fabricate the instruments of war and husbandry ; but 
 they weave their cotton cloth by a tedious and difficult 
 process. 
 
 On arriving at the banks of the Faleme, the major 
 found, that, in consequence of a war which had lately 
 subsisted between the kings of Bondou and Bambouk, 
 the latter had ceded the lowland part of his dominions to 
 his victorious enemy who had taken up his residence 
 in the territories which he had thus acquired. The ma- 
 jor hastened to pay his respects to the successful sove- 
 reign, who received him in the most ungracious man- 
 ner ; sullenly permitted him to leave the present which 
 he had brought to conciliate his favour and protection ; 
 and commanded him to repair to the f.'ontier town, from 
 which he came, telling him that he should hear again 
 from his majesty. Next day, the king's son, with an 
 armed attendance, entered the house in which the ma- 
 jor lodged, rifled his baggage, and selected whatever 
 could gratify their avarice, or please their fancy ; and to 
 his extreme regret, the prince took from him the blue 
 coat in which he intended to have been introduced to 
 the sultan of Tombuctoo. The major seized the first 
 opportunity of escaping from these barbarians, and was 
 repairing to the residence of the king of Bambouk, when 
 he lost his way in one of the vast forests of the country. 
 The ground on which he passed the night was deluged 
 with water, for the rainy season had now commenced ; 
 and the sky was fired by a continued blaze of lightning. 
 
 i
 
 AFRICA. 
 
 193 
 
 Though seized with a smart fever, he continued his route 
 at break ol day. A river crossed his way, which he 
 waded with much difficulty ; and when he reached Fer- 
 banna, his fever increased to delirium. But his strength 
 was soon restored hy the Icindness of the negro family to 
 which his guide had conducted him ; and the friendly 
 reception which he met with from the king of Banibouk 
 compensated for the distresses of his journey. The 
 king told him, that his late defeats had been owing to his 
 want of ammunition ; for, since the French traders had 
 abandoned the fort St Joseph, and deserted the naviga- 
 tion of the upper part of Senegal, he had no means of 
 replenishing his stores ; whereas the king of Bondou, by 
 means of his agents on the Gambia, received from the 
 English a constant supply. The major embraced this 
 opportunity ot suggesting to the khig the advantage of 
 encouraging the English to open a trade through his do- 
 minions, with the opulent cities on the banks of the Ni- 
 ger ; but this negotiation was suspended, by tlie arrival 
 of the annual presents of mead, which at that season the 
 people of Biunbouk are accustomed to send to their king ; 
 and which are always followed by several successive 
 days of intemperate festivity. 
 
 Meanwhile, the major gladly accepted a proposal 
 made by an old and respectable merchant of Bambouk, 
 to conduct him on horseback to Tombuctoo, and accom- 
 pany him l)ack to the Gambia. It was stipulated, that on 
 their return to the British factory at Junkiconda, the 
 merchant should receive a reward of 150/. sterling ; and 
 it was determined that the major should be provided 
 with a horse, in exchange for his asses, and shoidd con- 
 vert into gold dust the scanty remams of his merchan- 
 dise. Major Houghton's last despatch, dated the 24th of 
 July, tslosed with an account of these preparations ; and 
 the Association formed the most sanguine hopes of the 
 success of his journey. The dangers and obstacles 
 which he had already surmounted, proved the intrepidity 
 and steadiness of his character ; his poverty offered no 
 temptation to plunder ; and he seemed to derive addi- 
 tional seciu'ity froin the interest which his guide had in 
 his safety, and from liis dark complexion, which could 
 scarcely be distinguished from that of the Moors in Bar- 
 bary. But no accounts of him reached Europe, till Mr 
 Park learned at Simbing,the frontier village of Ludamar, 
 some particulars of his unhappy fate. On his arrival at 
 Jarra, he had met with some Moorish merchants, who 
 were travelling to Tisheet (a place near the salt pits in 
 the Great Desert, about ten days' journey northward) to 
 purchase salt ; and at the expense of a inusket and some 
 tobacco, he engaged them to convey him thither. As 
 Tisheet lay quite out of his route to Tombuctoo, the 
 Moors evidently deceived him, with an intention to plun- 
 der him, and leave him in the Desert. At the end of 
 two days he suspected their treachery, and insisted on 
 returning to Jarra. The Moors, finding him persist in 
 this resolution, robbed him of every thing he possessed, 
 and went off with their camels ; while this unfortunate 
 man, deserted and destitute, returned on foot to a water- 
 ing place called Tarra, in possession of the Moors. 
 Worn out with fatigue, and faint for want of food 
 (for the unfeeling Moors would give him none) he sunk 
 at last under the load of his sufferings. " Whether,", 
 says Park, " he actually perislied of hunger, or was mur- 
 dered outright by the savage Mahommedans, is not 
 certainly known ; his body was dragged into the woods, 
 and I was shown at a distance the spot where his re- 
 mams were left to perish." 
 Vol I. Part I. 
 
 Major Houghton has enlarged considerably the limits 
 of European discovery ; for he was the first who des- 
 cribed the kingdom of Bondou ; and the information 
 which he received irom the king of Banibouk, as well as 
 from the native merchants, not only determined the 
 course of the Niger, but furnished the names of the 
 pruicipal cities erected on its banks. 
 
 But of all the missionaries of the Association, none 
 has done moie in promoting the grand object of dis- 
 covery than our brave and ingenious countryman, Mr 
 Mungo Park. The route prescribed to him was nearly 
 the same with that which major Houghton had been 
 directed to pursue. He was to proceed to the river 
 Niger, either by the way of Bambouk, or by any other 
 route which he should find most convenient ; to ascer- 
 tain the course, and, if possible, the rise and termination 
 of that mysterious river ; to use his utmost exertions to 
 visit the principal towns in its neighbourhood, pai'ticu- 
 larly Tombuctoo and Houssa ; after which he should bo 
 at liberty to return to Europe by the way of the Gam- 
 bia, or by such other route as in his circumstances at 
 the time should appear most advisable. Having sailed 
 from Portsmouth on the 22d of May 1795, he arrived at 
 Jillilree, a town on the northern bank of the Gambia, 
 after a pleasant voyage of thii'ty days. Proceeding 
 thence to Pisania, he was received with great kindness 
 by Dr Laidley, with whom he continued for five months, 
 studying, during that interval, the language of the Man- 
 dingoes. On the 2d of December following he left the 
 hospitable mansion of Dr Laidley, and proceeded on his 
 journey through the interior. For eighteen months he 
 travelled in the hottest, the wildest, and most unfriendly 
 regions of Africa, struggling with hardships, encounter- 
 ing dangers, and enduring distresses, under which a 
 mind less firm, or a constitution less vigorous, must in- 
 evitably have sunk. To accompany him in his progress, 
 and to give a full recital of his sufferings, would lead us 
 far beyond the bounds prescribed ui our ^^ork to such 
 articles as this ; nor could any abridgment afford satis- 
 faction to those who have perused his own simple but 
 interesting narrative. The world admired him on his 
 return as the most adventurous and intelligent of modem 
 travellers ; and his friends received him as one restored 
 from the dead. Could any thing have given us a more 
 exalted idea of heroism, than the persevering fortitude, 
 and magnanimous regard to duty and to fame, which he 
 had displayed in his former travels, it was his own reso- 
 lution to return to a country in which he had already 
 endured sufferings beyond the conception of those who 
 had not themselves experienced them ; a country in 
 which he knew well, that he would still have to encoun- 
 ter dangers as dreadful, and miseries as great, as those 
 from which he had before escaped, only, as it were, by a 
 continued miracle. Would to heaven that his friends 
 were still allowed to hope, that the same miraculous 
 protection might yet be exerted in his behalf, and that 
 men of science could still look forward to the brilliant 
 discoveries which his tried ability, prudence, and cou- 
 rage, so fully warranted them to expect ! 
 
 His former journey was unquestionably tlie most im- 
 portant which any European had ever performed in the 
 interior of Africa. He has established a number of geo- 
 graphical positions in a direct line of 1100 miles from 
 Cape de Verde ; by pointing out the positions of the 
 sources of the Senegal, Gambia, and Niger, he has given 
 a new aspect to the physical geography of this continent ; 
 he has fixed tlie boundaries of the Moors and Negroes ; 
 B b
 
 194 
 
 AFRICA. 
 
 unfolded to us ilie empire of Ludumar ; and described, 
 IVom personal observation, some important towns on the 
 banks of the Niger, or Joliba. Sego, one of these towns, 
 consisted of four divisions, and was surrounded with 
 high mud walls. It covered a great extent of ground, 
 and was said to contain 30,000 inliabitants. Yet Sego 
 was much smaller than Jenne, Walct, Tombuctoo, and 
 Houssa ; four other cities wliieu stood on the banks of the 
 Niger. The information which he has communicated 
 concerning the inhabitants of this part of Africa, and 
 their manners, was equally new and interesting. He 
 has traced, with accuracy, the distinction between the 
 Mahommcdans and Pagans ; a disthiction which docs 
 much honour to the simple and generous Negro ; while 
 it places, in the most detestable point of view, the per- 
 fidiousness, the bigotry, and the cruelty of the Moor. 
 For a fuller account of Mr Park's adventures, see Ni- 
 ORITIA, and Park. 
 
 The next adventurer who engaged in the service of 
 the Association, was Mr Hornemann, a young German, 
 possessed of eveiy quality of mind and body requisite for 
 the most hazardous expeditions. He was recommend- 
 ed to the Association by Dr Blumcnbach, professor of 
 natural history in the university of Gottingen, who de- 
 scribed him as a man of respectable literary attainments, 
 possessed of a considerable knowledge of theoretical and 
 practical mechanics; of athletic form, and patient of fa- 
 tigue ; temperate, abstemious, and a stranger to disease. 
 When Dr Blumenbach communicated to Hornemann, 
 who was then at Hanover, the answer of the Association, 
 he was astonished to see the young adventurer in his 
 apartment before he thought it possible that the letter 
 could have reached him. In the course of one night he 
 drew up an excellent plan of his journey, which was 
 ti-ansmitted to London for the inspection of the commit- 
 tee. After spending some time at Gottingen, in acqui- 
 ring the Oriental languages, he came to London iii Fe- 
 bruary 1797, and was introduced to the Association, who 
 unanimously confirmed his appointment. In August fol- 
 lowing, he embarked at Marseilles in a Cyprus trader, 
 and arrived at Alexandria on the loth of September. In 
 one of the convents of that city, he met with an aged 
 monk, a native of Germany, who spoke Arabic more flu- 
 ently than his own language, and was going to reside 
 some months at Cairo. Hornemann accompanied him, 
 intending to wait at Cairo for the departure of the Cassi- 
 na caravan. During his stay in that city, he met with 
 an Abyssinian bishop, whose father had been intimately 
 acquainted with Bruce. He described that traveller as 
 devoted to astronomy, and anxious to explore the sources 
 of die Nile, to which he once made a journey ; and added, 
 that he was greatly respected by the king and nobles of 
 Abyssinia. From Cairo, Mr Hornemann proceeded to 
 Fezzan ; but his communications have added little to our 
 knowledge of Africa; and from the long suspension of 
 his correspondence, it is much to be feared, that he has 
 perished in attempting to penetrate farther into the in- 
 terior. 
 
 In this account of the travellers who have contributed 
 to enlarge our knowledge of Africa, it would be unpar- 
 donable to forget Mr Browne, a gentleman whose inde- 
 pendent love of science has added a new territory to the 
 geography of Africa. With an ardent and liberal curiosi- 
 ty, he penetrated far into the interior of Africa on the east ; 
 discovered the country of Darfur, in which he resided for 
 a considerable time ; ascertained the source and progress 
 cf the Bahr-cl-Abiad, or real Nile ; and considerably 
 
 elucidated the geography towards the west, particularly 
 by describing a large river which takes its rise among 
 the mountains of Kuinri,and flows in a nortli-west course, 
 apparently coinciding witli the Ciir of Ptolemy, and the 
 Nile of the Negroes mentioned by Edrisi. By these 
 discoveries, which strikingly agree witli the general fea- 
 tures of Ptolemy's niaps, he has greatly enhanced the 
 value of that intelligent geographer's communications. 
 
 But though these travellers have thrown much light 
 on the geography of this continent, and communicated 
 much interesting information concerning the condition 
 and character of its inhabitants, their success has not 
 equalled the sanguine expectations, which, at the first 
 institution of the Society, were generally entertained. 
 They have confirmed, indeed, many facts which had been 
 mentioned by the ancients ; ascertained many circum- 
 stances which were formerly doubtful ; and hitroduced 
 to our notice several new countries and nations; yet, not- 
 withstanding all their exertions, there is a space of 780 
 geographical miles in the interior of Airica, north of the 
 equator, that yet remains unexplored ; while the inland 
 country south of the Line is almost wholly unknown. 
 
 Africa, as it is at present known to Europeans, may be 
 divided in general into North, South, West, East, and 
 Central Africa. Major Rennell has considered North 
 Africa as composed of three distinct parts. The first 
 and smallest is that fertile region along the Mediterra- 
 nean, commonly distinguished by tlie name of Barbary, 
 which possesses so much of the European character, 
 that could we suppose the Mediterranean to have been 
 once dry land, Barbary might be regarded as part of 
 Europe. The second part, which may be deemed the 
 body of North Africa, is comprised between Cape Verd 
 and the Red Sea, on the east and west ; having th».Great 
 Desert, or Sahara, witli its members, on the north ; and 
 South Africa, and the Ethiopic Ocean, on the opposite 
 side. Of this immense region, the most prominent fea- 
 ture is a vast belt of elevated land of great breadth, often 
 swelling into lofty mountains, and running in a general 
 direction from west to east, about the tenth degree of 
 latitude. The western extremity of this ridge appears 
 to be Cape Verd ; on the east it terminates in the moun- 
 tains of Abyssinia. To the north it has no extensive 
 ramification, if we except that elevated tract of land 
 which gives the Nile a northern course beyond Abyssi- 
 nia. From its southern side descend a multitude of ri- 
 vers, some of them very large, which flow into the At- 
 lantic and Ethiopic seas, from the Rio Grande on the west, 
 to Cape Lopez on the east. South Afc-ica is pervaded by 
 a similar ridge, which, stretching in a southern direc- 
 tion, forms an impenetrable barrier between the two 
 coasts, which has prevented the Portuguese in Congo 
 and Angola from reaching by land the shores of the In- 
 dian ocean. Mr Bruce learned, that a high chain of 
 mountains runs southward, from the sixth degree of lati- 
 tude, through the middle of Africa, and supposes that 
 from these mountains was derived the gold of Sofala. 
 To the north of the belt, which runs through the body 
 of North Africa, all the rivers, except the Nile, conform 
 in general to the direction of the high land ; passing to 
 the right and left, at no great distance from its base, as 
 if the surface of the Sahara had a general dip to the 
 southward. These rivers receive all their supplies 
 from the south, as no streams of any magnitude are col- 
 lected in the Desert. From this circumstance, major 
 Rennell infers, that there must be a vast hollow in the 
 interior of Africa, between Manding on the ■west, and
 
 AFRICA. 
 
 196 
 
 \.]\c high land of Nubia on the east; while the mountains 
 anil Desert lonu the two other sides. In Asia there is 
 a hollow no less extensive, to whose waters the Caspian 
 and Aral serve as recipients. 
 
 Tlie third part in this distribution, is the Great Desert, 
 or Sahara, and its members, eonsisting of the smaller 
 deserts of Bornou, Bilma, liarca. Sort, Sec. The Sahara 
 may be considered as a vast ocean of sand, equal in ex- 
 tent to one half of Europe, indented with gulfs and bays, 
 and containing islands or oases, whose luxuriant soil and 
 numerous population afford to the traveller an agreeable 
 relief from the general solitude and sterility of the desert. 
 The western division of this ocean, extending from Fez- 
 zan to the Atlantic, is fifty caravans journey, or about 
 800 geographical miles across, from north to south ; and 
 double that extent in length, containing few oases, and 
 those but small. In the eastern division, however, there 
 are many islands, some of them of great extent. The 
 principal of these are Fezzan, Gadamis, Taboo, Gha- 
 NAT, Agadez, Augela, and Berdoa. But for a more 
 particular description of the Sahara, and its oases, we 
 must refer our readers to the articles, Agadez, Augela, 
 Berdoa, Fezzan, kc. 
 
 The great ridge of mountains, with its different rami- 
 fications, are 'said to abound in gold, particularly in the 
 west, opposite Bambouk and Manding, and in tlie east, 
 opposite to Wangara. From Tombuctoo, which is the 
 mart of the Mandingo gold, it is distributed over the 
 northern quarters of Africa, by the merchants of Tunis, 
 Tripoli, Fezzan, and Morocco. Most of the countries 
 bordering on these mountains, are supposed to partake 
 of the gold which they contain, by means of rivers which 
 carry it down along their banks. 
 
 1. North Africa contains the following countries, 
 the description of each of which shall form a separate 
 article ; Egypt, Barc a, Tunis, Tripoli, Algiers, Mo- 
 rocco, Fez, Tafilet, Biled-ul-gerid, and the Saha- 
 ra. All these countries are inhabited chiefly by Moors 
 descended from the Arabs, and intermingled with the 
 different nations, who at various times have established 
 colonies in Africa. These Moors have overspread the 
 habitable parts of the Desert ; extended their conquests 
 and colonies towards the south, and driving before them 
 the Negro Aborigines, have forced them, in several in- 
 stances, to retire beyond the great rivers. Yet the Ne- 
 groes, addicted to agriculture, probably never possess- 
 ed any considerable portion of the Desert, which is mucff 
 better adapted to the wandering and pastoral life of the 
 Moors. Even Herodotus fixes the boimdaries of the 
 Libyans and Ethiopians, or, in other words, of the Moors 
 and Negroes, near the river Niger; so that their rela- 
 tive situation appears not to have undergone, since his 
 days, any material change. 
 
 2. Of West Africa, the two great divisions are Gui- 
 nea and Congo; the former of which may be subdivi- 
 ded uito North Guinea or Senegal, containing the 
 country of the Jalofs and Foulahs, and the kmgdom 
 of the Mandingoes; South Guinea, containing the 
 Pepper Coast, the Ivory Coast, and the Gold Coast ; 
 and East Guinea, or the Slave Coast, in which are 
 the kingdoms of Whidah, Ardra, and Benin. In 
 Congo are comprehended the kingdoms of Loango, 
 Congo, Angola, Matamba, and Benguela. 
 
 3. South Africa, or CAFFRARiA,contahis the coun- 
 try of the NAMAquAS, the country of the Hottentots, 
 and the colony of the Cape of Good Hope. After 
 doubling the Cape, we find on the south-eastern coast 
 
 the kingdoms of Inhambane, Manic a, Sabia, Sofala. 
 and Mouaranga, or, as it is sometimes called, Mono- 
 motapa. 
 
 4. East Africa has been divided into the coast oi 
 Zanguebak, the coast of Ajan, and tlie coast of Adel. 
 In Zanguebar are comprehended the kingdoms of Mo- 
 ZAMBiquE, Mongalla,Quii,oa, Montu aza, Melinda, 
 and the country of the Monoemugi. Ajan contains the 
 republic of Brava, and the kingdom of Magadoxa. 
 Adel is an extensive kingdom, occupying the whole ex- 
 tent of the coast to which it gives name. See Adel. 
 
 5. In Central Africa, according to this division, arc 
 included Nigritia, or Soudan, Nubia, and Abyssinia. 
 Under the name of Nigritia is included that extensive 
 tract of country south of the Sahara, which stretches al- 
 most completely across the continent of Africa, on both 
 sides of the river Niger. It contains the empires of 
 HoussA and Tombuctoo, the country of the Agadez, 
 the kingdoms of Ludamar, Bondou, Bambouk, and 
 other smaller principalities recently discovered by Mr 
 Park; and towards the east, the kingdoms of Bornou 
 and Darfur, of which an account has lately been pub- 
 lished by Mr Browne, the first European by whom it was 
 ever visited. Nubia, an extensive country between 
 Egypt and Abyssinia, comprehends Turkish Nubia, 
 with the kingdoms of Dongala, and Sennaar. F"or a 
 minute account of the divisions of Abyssuiia, we refer 
 to the article Abyssinia. 
 
 Having thus given a general outline of the geography 
 of this continent, we shall now conduct our reader once 
 more round its coasts, and point out to him the capes and 
 promontories which we meet witli from the shores of 
 the Mediterranean to the Indian ocean. Proceeding 
 along the northern coast, we come first to Cape Bon, 
 which is likewise called Ras-Addar, in the kingdom of 
 Tunis ; next to Cape Spartel, on the western shore of 
 Gibraltar Straits ; then sailing southward, we discover 
 in the Atlantic Cape Geer, in the south-west bound- 
 ary of Morocco, from which commences the extensive 
 ridge of Atlas; Cape Bojador, first doubled by the 
 Portuguese in 1433; Cape Blanc ; Cape VERD,eastof 
 the islands of that name ; Cape Mesurado, at the mouth 
 of the Mesurado river; Cape Palmas on the west, and 
 the Cape of the Three Points on the south of the 
 coast of Guinea ; Cape Formosa about the middle of 
 the Gulf of Guinea; Cape Negro on the north-west, 
 and Cape de Lasvoltas on the south-west of Caffra- 
 ria : Cape of Good Hope, the most southern promon- 
 tory of Africa; after doubling which, we come to Nee- 
 dle Cape, in the Indian sea; Cape St Mary at the 
 mouth of the river Manica; Cape Corrientes near the 
 tropic of Capricorn; Cape Delgado, north of the Co- 
 moro Isles; Cape Baxas on the coast of Ajan; and 
 Cape Guardafui, at the eastern extremity of Africa. 
 
 The only Straits belonging to Africa, are the Straits 
 OF Babel-mandeb, which unite the Red Sea with the 
 Eastern Ocean ; and the Straits of Gibraltar, which 
 separate tliis continent from Europe. Its Gulfs are the 
 Gulf of Sidra, and the Gulf of Goletta in the 
 Mediterranean; the Gulf of France at the mouth of 
 the Gambia; the Gulf of Guinea, south of the Gold 
 Coast, by far the most considerable; and the Gulf of 
 Sofala, near the southern entrance of the Mozambique 
 Channel. The MozAMBiquE Channel, between the 
 island of Madagascar and the coast of Mozambique, is 
 the only sea which may be said to be peculiar to Africa. 
 
 This continent has no inland seas, like those which 
 Bb 2
 
 196 
 
 AFRICA. 
 
 penetrate into Kuropc, America, and Asia. ; nor is this 
 ticticicucy supplied by bold navigable rivirs, which, by 
 communicatinii; with exleiibive lakes, might promote 
 commerce and civilization throughout the interior. The 
 lew lakes of which it can boast, are either insulated 
 sheets of water, or the sources or reservoirs of insigni- 
 ficant streams, useless for all the purposes of navigation. 
 AVhen the inland regions are more fully explored, con- 
 siderable lakes may pro1)ab!y be discovered near the 
 ranges of mountains ; at present we know of none but the 
 Mabeuia in Nigritia, from which flows the Senegal ; 
 the Dembea, or TzANA, in Abyssinia ; lake Menzaleh, 
 in the cast of Lower Egypt ; lake Berelos, in the west 
 of the same country; and lake Maravi, called by the 
 Arabs 'Z^dm-bahr, east of the Lupata moimtains, ten de- 
 grees south of the equator, which is said to be more 
 than 300 miles long, and scarcely 45 in its greatest 
 breadth. 
 
 The principal rivers of Africa are the Nile, supposed 
 to have its source in the Jibbcl Kumri, or Mountains of 
 the Moon, in the district of Donga, N. Lat. 8°; the Ni- 
 ger, called by the Negroes Joliba, or the Great River; 
 the Senegal, the Gambia, Marocco, Sif.rua Leona, 
 Benin, Congo, Zuike, or Bahr Ela, Coaxtza, Ma- 
 nica, Zambezi or Cuama, Coavo, Zebee, and Maga- 
 
 DOXA. 
 
 Africa has many extensive ranges of mountains. The 
 Atlas attracted tlie pai'ticuiar attention of the ancients, 
 according to wliose fables it supported tlic firmament. 
 This range extends in a north-east direction from Cape 
 Geer, on the Atlantic ocean, as far as the gulf of Sidra. 
 The mcuntauis of Kong stretch, from west to east, 
 from the mouth of the Gambia to 23° of E. Long. The 
 Mountains of the Moon seem to be a continuation 
 of the mountains of Kong ; they separate Nigritia from 
 Caffraria, into which they run in an easterly direction. 
 The Mountains of Lupata are an extensive chain of 
 rugged uninhabitable rocks, which extend from north 
 to south, and, as it were, enciix;Ie the kingdom of Mo- 
 caranga. The Crystal Mountains pervade the king- 
 doms of Congo, Angola, and Bcnguela. Besides these, 
 there arc others less important, which cannot at present 
 be particularly mentioned. 
 
 There are many islands in the neighbourhood of the 
 African coast, both in the Atlantic and Indian oceans. Of 
 these the most remarkable is Madagascar, which is 
 840 geographical miles in length, and about 220 in 
 breadth ; next to Papua and New Holland, the largest 
 island in the world. The islands next in conseqv;ence 
 to Madagascar, are, in the Indian ocean, Pemba, Zan- 
 zibar, and MoNFiA, opposite the coast of Zanguebar ; 
 the Comoro Islands, west of Madagascar ; the islands 
 of Bourbon and Mauritius, east of Madagascar ; and 
 tlie island of Socotra, opposite Cape Guardafui. Far 
 to the south lies an island, called, from a late French 
 navigator, Kerguelen's Land ; but named by Captain 
 Cooke, from its wildness and sterility, the Isle of De- 
 solation. Proceeding northward in the Atlantic Ocean, 
 we come to the pleasant island of St Helena, which 
 is frequented by ovir homeward bound Indiamen. We 
 next reach the Isle of Ascension, the Isles of St 
 Matthew, Annobon, St Thomas, and Fernando Po ; 
 farther north, we discover the distinguished group of 
 the Cape de Verd Islands, and proceeding in a north- 
 east direction, we find the Canaries ; north of which 
 lie the islands of M \deira and Porto Santo. 
 
 As Africa is nearly divided by the equator, and the 
 
 greater part of it lies within the tropics, the heat, es- 
 pecially when reflected from the sands of the Desert, can 
 scarcely be endured by the natives of Europe. In the 
 country traversed by Mr Park, when in the dry reason 
 the wind blew from the east and nortii-tasl, the ground 
 became so hot, that even the negroes, accustomed as 
 they were to that temperature, could not bear to touch 
 it with their naked foot. Mr Park, as he lay listlessly 
 along in his hut of reeds, could iiot hold his hand against 
 the current of air which pierced through the crevices, 
 without feeling veiy sensible pain from its scorching 
 effect. When passing through the southern districts, 
 which abound with wood anu water, he observed that 
 the climate improved ; and in the mornings and even- 
 ings, the air was temperate, serene, and pleasant. In 
 the norlheni provinces, the climate, though hot, is 
 friendly to European constitutions ; along the coast it is 
 tempered in some degree by the sea breezes ; and in the 
 vicinity of tiie mountains is comparatively cool. The 
 countries south of the equator, too, enjoy a milder 
 temperature than those at the same distance from it ill 
 the north ; as thi; Antarctic cold has a more powerful in- 
 fluence than tliat ol the opposite pole. 
 
 The soil, when well watered, is luxuriant beyond 
 what the inliabitants of more northern climates can well 
 conceive ; and the whole of this continent, except what 
 is covered with sand, might be greatly improved by cul- 
 tivation. 
 
 None of the other continents is so favourably situated 
 for commerce as Africa. Placed almost in the centre of 
 the world, it enjoys an easy communication with Eu- 
 rope, Asia, and America. For almost a thousand miles 
 fi'om east to west, its northern coast is opposite to Eu- 
 rope ; while the distance is nowhere greater than a hun- 
 dred leagues, and sometimes does not exceed twenty. 
 The Arabian Gulf affords it a communication with Asia, 
 for a considerable extent from north to south, at a dis- 
 tance of from five to fifty leagues ; and though separated 
 by a wider interval from the southern coast of Asia, the 
 interposition of islands from Madagascar to Malabar, as 
 well as the alternation of the trade-winds, render that 
 interval particularly advantageous for commerce. Two 
 thousand miles of its western coast lie opposite to Ame- 
 rica, and the western islands, at the distance of five 
 hundred to seven hundred leagues. Unfortunately, 
 however, those advantages are more than counterbalan- 
 ced by one great deficiency peculiar to this continent. 
 Penetrated by no inland seas, like those of Europe and 
 Asia; overspread by no extensive lakes, as North 
 America ; nor containing, like the other continents, na- 
 vigable rivers, which flow fi-om the centre to the ex- 
 tremities, its regions are separated from each other by 
 the least surmoimtable of all boundaries, arid deserts of 
 formidable extent, which cannot be ti^aversed without 
 the most imminent danger, and the severest suflTering. 
 
 Hence the progress of civilization in Africa has been 
 beyond comparison slower than in any other quarter of 
 the globe. At a very remote period, indeed, some of its 
 nations were eminent for their opulence, and their ac- 
 quaintance with the liberal arts. Egypt was long the lu- 
 minary of the world, from w hich the rays of knowledge 
 diverged in various directions, enlightening with pecu- 
 liar splendour the states of Greece. Ancient writers 
 have been fond of celebrating the superior refinement 
 of some of the Ethiopian nations. Carthage stood long 
 unrivalled in power, in opulence, and in the arts of ele- 
 gance and ingenuity, to which extensive commerce
 
 AFR 
 
 AG A 
 
 i97 
 
 gives birth. The conquests of the Romans extended 
 the civilization ol the north of Africa; and, during the 
 period oi Roman dominion, many of the natives of this 
 country rose to distinguished eminence in the various 
 departments of literature. The unexpected appearance 
 of weahh and refinement, whicn has been observed in 
 some of the interior nations, and the superior skill 
 which they have been reported to possess in a few of 
 the arts of manufacture, have led an uigcnious writer to 
 suppose, that in some of these insulated empires, the 
 knowledge and language of ancient Egypt may still im- 
 perfectly survive ; or liiat the Carthaguiians, who do not 
 appear to have perished with their cities, nnay have re- 
 tired to the southern parts of Africa; and though lost to 
 the world in the vast oblivion of the Desert, may have 
 carried with them to the new regions which they occupy, 
 some portion of those arts and sciences, and of that com- 
 mercial knowledge, for whicli the inhabitants of Car- 
 thage were once so eminently famed. (^Proceedings of the 
 Afriean Jssnciation for I 792.) We would gladly cherish 
 such a pleasing supposition ; but to us, we own, it ap- 
 pears improbable, tliat the Carthaginians, to wiiom the 
 coasts of Africa, with which they were already acquaint- 
 ed, offered a more inviting, and almost as safe an asylum, 
 should ever have attempted to penetrate the Desert ; 
 not to mention, that our ideas of the magnificence and 
 civilization of the empire of Houssa have been consider- 
 ably lowered by the recent communications of Mr 
 Honiemann, who represents the cultivation and natural 
 abilities of the Houssanians, as well as their strength, 
 and the extent of their possession, as far below the des- 
 criptions which had been given of them. To the -Afri- 
 cans, in short, the arts which improve and embellish 
 life, are almost wholly unknown. The nations in the in- 
 terior have scarcely advanced beyond a state of nature ; 
 and the striking difiercnce which travellers remark in 
 their manners and dispositions, seems wholly to re- 
 sult, either from the difference of their religious senti- 
 ments, or from original constitution. The natives of 
 Africa may be divided into two great classes, the Moors 
 or Mahommedans, intolerant perfidious, and sanguinary ; 
 and the Negroes, a simple, mild, and generous race, who 
 need only to be enlightened and directed by the gen- 
 tle spirit of the Gospel, to render them the most happy 
 and amiable of mankhid. 
 
 It will remain an indelible reproach on the name of 
 Europeans, that, for more titan three centuries, their 
 intercourse with Africa, instead of imparting to the na- 
 tives the blessings of religion, of industry, and civiliza- 
 tion, has tended only to destroy their happiness, and to 
 debase their character. The accursed slave trade has 
 naturally excited their detestation against Christians; 
 while the arts of the slave merchant have inflamed the 
 hostility of their various tribes, and heightened their 
 ferocity, by increasing the frequency of their wars. But 
 we must not now enter into a detail of the enormities to 
 which this abominable traffic has given rise. At present, 
 we shall only congratulate our readers on the auspicious 
 prospects which begin to open on this unfortunate con- 
 tinent. The persevering and godlike benevolence of 
 Gr.\nvii.i.e, Sharpe, Clarkson, and Wilberfohce, 
 aided by the powerful influence of Fox and his friends, 
 men whose names will be ciierish-d with aftection while 
 any generous feeling is preserved in the world, has at 
 lemnh effected the abolition of the slave trade. A few 
 gentlemen actuated by the sam3 spirit of humanity, have 
 formed themselves into an Institution, to watch over 
 
 the rights and hiterests of the Negroes; to leach them 
 the arts of industry ; and to dilluse among them the 
 blessings of knowledge and civilization. Before the 
 close of another century, Africa may emerge from the 
 darkness in whicli it is now involved ; rise to its due im- 
 portance among the great continents of the world ; and 
 repay, by the riches of its commerce, the benevolent ex- 
 ertions which are now making in its behalf, {k) 
 AFRICAN Association. Sec Association. 
 AFRICAN Institution. See Institution. 
 AFRICANUS Julius, a learned Christian writer, 
 who flourished in the beginning of the third century. 
 The period of his birth, and the events of his life, 
 have not been transmitted to the present times. We arc 
 merely informed, that he was sent on an embassy to the 
 emperor Heliogabalus, between the years 218 and 222, 
 for the restoration of Emmaus or Nicopolis ; that he 
 studied at Alexandria, before the year 231; and that he 
 generally resided in Palestine. According to some, he 
 wrote the " Ccsti," containing passages from different 
 authors, chiefly on physical subjects. He was the au- 
 thor of a treatise on " Chronology." extending from the 
 creation of the world to A. D. 221; of two letters toOri- 
 gen, on the history of Susannah ; and of a letter to Aris- 
 tides, reconciling the genealogies of our Saviour, as 
 given by St Matthew and St Luke. See Euseb. Jiccle.t. 
 Hist. Lardner's /ro7-X-s, vol. ii. p. 431. Civ) 
 AFZIA. See Aphsia. 
 
 AGA, a name ot distinction given in Turkey, Tartaiy, 
 and Algiers, either to men of rank or wealth, or to 
 those who hold particular oflices. In Turkey, the title 
 of aga is given to tl.c commander of the janizaries, to 
 the general of the horse, and to the eunuchs who fiil the 
 chief offices in the seraglio. The principal officers un- 
 der the khan of Tartary are called agas; and the Alge- 
 rines confer the same thle on those military officers, 
 who are invested with the government of towns and 
 garrisons, (w) 
 
 AGADEZ, a province of Africa, situated, according 
 to niajoi Rennell, in the eastern part of Sahara, or the 
 Great Desert, though some make it a province of tiie 
 Cashna empire. This province is divided into two dis- 
 tricts: the northern, which is completely a desert; and 
 the southern, which produces grass and corn, and 
 abounds in cattle. The southern district contains three 
 considerable towns; Agad, the capital, and Secmana 
 and Deyhir nearly equal to it in wealth and population. 
 The natives live in the open country, like the wandering 
 Arabs, and trade in senna and manna. Agad is situated 
 between two high mountains, at the spring of a consider- 
 able river, that discharges itself into the Niger. It is 
 encircled with walls, and the houses are built in the 
 Moresco fashion. This province was, and probably 
 continues to be tributary to the king of Tombuctoo. 
 Agad is situated in E. Long. 13" 14', and N. Lat. 2o° is'. 
 See Mod. Unii'ers. Hist. vol. xiv. p. 260. (ro) 
 
 AGALMATOLITE, or Figure Stone. See Orvc- 
 Too;ipSY. (r) 
 
 AXtAMEMNON, king of Argos, is famous in histo- 
 ry, J.3 the commander of the Greeks in the Trojan war. 
 According to Homer, he was the son of Atrcus and 
 jErope; but H>siod makes Plisthenes his father, who, 
 dying young, left Agamemnon and his brother Menelaus 
 to the care of their uncle Atreus, by whom they were 
 brought up as his own children. Agamemnon, after 
 having expc!1c 1 Thyestes and his son jEgisthus, who 
 had assassinated Atreus, and usurped the government.
 
 lUS 
 
 AG A 
 
 AGA 
 
 ascended tlie throne of Ai-gos, and married Clytemiies- 
 tra, daughter ol' Tyndarus, king ol Sparta. He was the 
 most wealthy and powerful pnnee in all Greece ; and, 
 for that reason, was ciiosen couunander in chief of the 
 expedition agauist Troy. He is said, by Homer, to have 
 ruled over many cities; and to have furnished more men 
 and ships to that expedition, than any otner of the Gre- 
 cian chieis. During the siege, he behaved with great 
 courage, enduring severe toils, and perscveruig under 
 great discouragements from the lacuons among tlie 
 other princes. Wnen Troy was taken, and the spoils 
 and captives divided among the victors, the prophetess 
 Cassandra, one of the daughters of Priam, fell to the lot 
 of Agamemnon. She warned him of the designs of his 
 wile Clytenmestra, and advised him not to return to 
 Mycena;. But, disregarding her advice, he was, upon 
 his arrival at Myccnse, nmrdered by his wife and her 
 lover jEgisthus, who, during his absence, had taken 
 possession of the throne of Argos. (/;) 
 
 AGAPANTHUS, a genus oi plants of the class Hex- 
 andria, and order Monogynia. See Botany, (to) 
 
 AGAPE, or the Feast of Love, from ayaTrn, love. 
 w as a religious festival, instituted by the primitive Chris- 
 tians in memory of the last supper which our Saviour 
 ate with his apostles. It was early introduced into the 
 church, and was generally celebrated in the place of 
 worship, when the prayers and service of the day were 
 over. This festival consisted of an entertainment pre- 
 pared by the rich members, to which the poor were in- 
 vited. There they testified tlieir love, by mutual acts 
 of kindness, by partaking of the same fare, and by libe- 
 rally supplying the necessities of their indigent brethren. 
 During the repast, the greatest decorum was observed ; 
 and, after having spent the night in religious conversa- 
 tion, and in exercises of devotion, they concluded with 
 prayer. The contributions, which were made by the 
 rich at these feasts, were not confined to the relief of 
 their own members ; but their charity extended even to 
 the Heathens. Julian the apostate bears remarkable 
 testimony to this fact, in his forty-ninth epistle to Arsa- 
 cius the high priest of Galatia. " It is a shame," says 
 he, "that the impious Galileans (Christians) should not 
 only maintain their own poor, but ours also ; wherefore, 
 let us not suffer them to oui-do us in this virtue." These 
 feasts generally accompanied the celebration of the 
 Lord's Supper; but whether they were held before or 
 after the communion, commentators are not agreed. 
 From what Pliny says, in his epistle to the emperor 
 Trajan, concerning the meetings of the Christians, it 
 would appear, that the entertainment succeeded the 
 dispensation of the sacrament, at least in those churches 
 ■which were under his jurisdiction : — " They were wont," 
 savs he, " to meet before day, and sing a hymn to Christ, 
 and to bind themselves by a solemn oath, or sacrament, 
 to do no wickedness; and these things being performed, 
 they departed and came again to partake of a common 
 and innocent meal." The manner, however, and the 
 lime of celebrating this festival was different in different 
 countries. But when that piety and virtue, which len- 
 dered these meetings so useful in the pruiiitive ages, 
 
 AGAMENTICUS, a mountain of considerable height 
 in the District of Maine. It is about eight miles from 
 York harbour, and is a well known landmark for sea- 
 men, particularly when entering the Pascataqua har- 
 bour. Lat. ^S'' 16' N. HosACK AND Francis. 
 
 began to decline, abuses soon followed, which gave oc- 
 casion to the Heathens to tax the Christians with im- 
 purity. On this account, the kiss of charity between 
 dilVerent sexes was discontmued, and all couches, for the 
 convenience of those who wished to eat more at their 
 ease, were forbidden. Tliese reguialioiis, however, had 
 very little effect; for the abuses became so notorious, 
 that, at the council of Cartnage, in the year 397, it was 
 ordained, that the feasts should not be held in churches, 
 except in cases of particular necessity. See TertuUian, 
 Ati'Aug. c. xxxix. Calvert. Fleury, llial. Ecclcniast. torn. 
 1. liv. i. p. 64. (/() 
 
 AGAHICUS, a genus of plants belonging to the class 
 Cryptogamia, and order Fungi. See Botany, {w) 
 
 AGARIC, Mineral, or Rock Milk, a particular spe- 
 cies of calcareous mineral. See Oryctognosy. (r) 
 
 AGATE, a compound mineral, formed of different 
 simple minerals, as chalcedony, carnelian, jasper, horn- 
 stone, quartz, heliotrope, amethyst, indurated litho- 
 marge, and opal, johied together irregularly, or in lay 
 ers. See Geognosy and Ouvctognosy. (r) 
 
 AGATE signifies also an antique gem of this kind of 
 mineral, on which are engraven, with the most exqui- 
 site skill, events connected with the mythology and his-- 
 tory of the ancients. See Hist. Acad. Inscrifit. torn. i. 
 p. 357. {nv) 
 
 AGATHO, the disciple of Prodicus and Socrates, 
 flourished about 417 A. C, was the author of several 
 tragedies and comedies, which have not descended to 
 our times. His compositions were elegant, though 
 highly antithetical, as appears from the detached frag- 
 ments of his writings, which the ancients have preserved. 
 He obtained the prize for his first tragedy, and was 
 crowned in the presence of 50,000 spectators. Agatho 
 was the contemporary and friend of Euripides. Aristo- 
 phanes, in one of his comedies, censures him for immo- 
 rality ; yet the same poet, in another of his plays, repre- 
 sents him as a good poet, and as the great favourite of 
 all who knew him. Plato praises Agatho for his beauty 
 and virtue ; and supposes the discourses on love, given 
 in his Convivium, to have been spoken at the second 
 feast w hich Agatho gave after his coronation. Agatho 
 was so much attached to Pausanias the Ceramian, that 
 he accompanied him to the court of Archelaus, king of 
 Macedon, where he continued till his death. Agatho 
 had frequent quarrels with Pausanias ; and, when Ar- 
 chelaus asked him the cause of their dissension, he re- 
 plied, that they arose solely from a desire to enjoy the 
 pleasure of a reconciliation. See Plato, Dial. Protag. 
 p. 220. Aristophanes, Hariie, act. 1, and Thesmoftho- 
 riaztisa. (w) 
 
 AGATHO, (Pope) was born at Palermo, and raised 
 to the see of Rome in A. D. 679. See Bower's Hist, of 
 the Pcfies. Dupin's Hist. Seventh Cent. vol. iii. p. 
 37. (w) 
 
 AGATHOCLES, the Sicilian tyrant, was born at 
 Thermae, in Sicily, B. C. 561. He was of mean parent- 
 age, and even followed the occupation of a potter. After 
 various adventures, in which he was a soldier, a robber, 
 and a pirate, we find him at last commander in chief of 
 the Syracusan army. Upon the death of Timoleon, who 
 had expelled the tyrants, and restored liberty to Sicily, 
 Agathocles aspired at the sovereignty of Syracuse. But 
 his intention being discovered, he was compelled to 
 swear, that he would preserve the democracy inviolate. 
 Regardless, however, of his oath, he ordered all the no- 
 bles and chief citizens to be massacred, to the number
 
 AGD 
 
 AGE 
 
 199 
 
 of -ICOO, proclaimed himself king, ami was imtiudlLitcly 
 acknowledged by tuc people. Having now obtained the 
 government, he exercised his authority witii the most 
 wanton cruelty; and not content with his high station, 
 he aimed at the reduction of the whole island. But the 
 Carthaginians, already jealous of his growing power, 
 and trembling for their own possessions in Sicily, de- 
 clared war against him. A baalc being fought, Aga- 
 thocles was completely defeated by Hamilcar, and com- 
 pelled to retire within the city. He now saw himself 
 forsaken by his allies, and reduced to all the miseries of 
 a siege. Yet his spirit was still undaunted, and though 
 unable to make head against the enemy at home, his en- 
 terprising mind formed one of the boldest designs, that 
 has been recorded in history. Leaving the care of the 
 city to his brother Antandes, with 60 galleys he trans- 
 ported an army into Africa, burnt his fleet upon his 
 arrival, and carried terror and desolation to the walls of 
 Carthage. But his success was of short duration. When 
 absent in Sicily, the Africans, who had flocked to his 
 standard when victorious, now deserted him for his per- 
 fidy and cruelty; and his troops, weakened by frequent 
 skinnishes, were compelled to retreat and evacuate 
 tlieir strongest positions. Agathocles hastened back to 
 their assistance; but all his endeavours to turn the for- 
 tune of the war were ineffectual. His little army were 
 unable to defend themselves against the numbers of the 
 Carthaginians, and he had no ships to carry them back 
 to Sicily. Lost, however, to all sense of humanity and 
 justice, and regardless even of the ties of kindred and 
 affection, he thought only of providing for his own safety. 
 He basely abandoned his army to the mercy of an in- 
 sulted foe; and exposed his family to the fury of an ex- 
 asperated and disappointed soldiery. His troops, seeing 
 themselves thus betrayed, murdered his children, and 
 surrendered to the Carthaginians. Agathocles himself 
 arrived at Syracuse, with a few attendants, and revenged 
 the death of his family, by murdering all the relations of 
 those soldiers, whom he had deserted and betrayed. 
 He was soon after poisoned, at the instigation of his 
 grandson Acagathus, and ended a cruel life by a mise- 
 rable and excruciating death, in the 28th year of his 
 reign, B.C. 289. 
 
 Agathocles owed his advancement, in a great mea- 
 sure, to the beauty of his person, his courage, and en- 
 terprising genius; but chiefly to his wickedness, treach- 
 ery and cruelty. He possessed a magnanimity, which 
 made him not ashamed of his mean extraction ; and 
 while his guests feasted out of silver and gold, he con- 
 tented himself with vessels of earthen ware. The great 
 Scipio, who, in the third Punic war, made a descent upon 
 Africa, pronounces an eulogium upon Agathocles wor- 
 thy of a better object. " He was," says he, " the most 
 prudent man in the conduct of his affairs, and mo5t ju- 
 diciously bold in the execution of his designs." But 
 craftiness and cruelty were the business of his life; and 
 all the enormities which the Syracusans experienced 
 from their former tyrants, were far exceeded by those 
 of the tyrant Agathocles. See Diodorus Siciilus. Jus- 
 tin. Vih. Kx'n. Poli/b. Vih.xv. i?o/7/«. vol. i. p. 172. (fi) 
 
 AG ATHOPHYLLUM, a genus of plants of the class 
 Dodccandria, and order Monogynia. See Botany. (711) 
 
 AGAVE, a genus of plants of the class Hcxandria, 
 and order Monogynia. See Bot.-vny. (w) 
 
 AGDE, a small city in the department of Herault, in 
 France, the capital of the diocese of the same name. 
 The vicinity of this place abounds with extinguished 
 
 volcanoes, one of which is Cap d'Agde. The rock of 
 Agde consists of black indurated lava, with which the 
 town is built and paved. Sec Buffon, Mtt. Hint, by 
 Smellie, vol. ix. p. 201. E. Long. 3' 28' 10". N. Lat. 
 43° 18' 43". (w) 
 
 AGE, in the most general sense of the word, signi- 
 fies any period of time attributed to something as the 
 whole, or part of its duration. It is also used in the 
 same sense with century, to denote a duration of an hun- 
 dred years. («) 
 
 ACJEMOGLANS, or AGiA-MoGLANS,a word of Ara- 
 bic origin, signifying the children ot barbarians, or those 
 who are not born of Turkisli parents. The Agemoglans 
 are young children, whom the grand signior purchases 
 from the Tartars, or whom he seizes in war, or levies 
 from the Christians who are subject to his power. The 
 officers who make this infamous requisition, carry off, by 
 violence, every third child belonging to the Christians, 
 always selecting those who arc most active and hand- 
 some. The young captives are then carried to Gallipoli, 
 or Constantinople, where they undergo circumcision, 
 and arc instructed in the religion, language, and mili- 
 tary exercises of the Turks. When the Agemoglans 
 become of age, those who are qualified enter into the 
 order of Janizaries, (to) 
 
 AG EN, a city of France, the capital of the province 
 of Agenois, in the department of Lot and Garonne. It 
 contains several remains of edifices built by the Romans ; 
 and the gates and ruins, which are still visible, mark 
 the antiquity and former extent of this city. The castle 
 of Montravel, where the sessions are held, is without 
 the walls of the old city; and another castle, called La 
 Sagne, exists in ruins. A shower of meteoric stones- 
 fell near this city on the 24th of July, 1790. See Izarn's 
 Litlwlugic Atmosfilicriquc, Paris 1803, and Meteoric 
 Stones. Agen contains 10,820 inhabitants, and is si- 
 tuated 142 leagues south-west of Paris. E. Long. 0° 
 36' 35". N. Lat. 44° 12' 22". {w) 
 
 AGENOIS, the name of a province in France, which 
 now forms the department of the Lot and Garonne. The 
 valley, watered by the rivers from which the department 
 takes its name, is exceedingly fertile ; and though the 
 higher part of the country, formerly called Haut .igenois, 
 is not so fruitful as this valley, yet tlie province abounds 
 in corn, hemp, wines, and every species of fruit. The 
 province contains 309 square leagues, and 352,908 in- 
 habitants. See Agen. {w) 
 
 AGERATUM, a genus of plants belonging to the 
 class Syngenesia, and order Polygamia a:qualis. See 
 Botany, {nu) 
 
 AGESILAUS, king of Sparta, a younger son of Archi- 
 damus, who, chiefly by the influence of Lysander, it is 
 said, obtained the crown in preference to his nephew 
 Leotychidas, tlie son of an elder brother. Agesilauswas 
 born about the year 444 before Christ. The Persians 
 having invaded the Greek cities in Asia, and prepared 
 to dispute the power of the sea with the Lacedemonians, 
 Agesiiaus marched at the head of an army against them, 
 and obtained several signal victories. He over-i'an 
 Phrygia, entered Lydia, and defeated the Persian gen- 
 eral Tissaphernes near Sardis. In the course of this 
 expedition, the Spartan government invested him with 
 the supreme command, both by sea and land, an office 
 which had never been conferred before. Pharnabazus, 
 governor of Phrygia, an illustrious Persian, having de- 
 manded an interview with Agesiiaus, found him sitting 
 on the grass, under a tree. The attendants of Pharna-
 
 200 
 
 AG I 
 
 AGI 
 
 hazus had bi ought ricli carpets for their master; but 
 struck with the simple manners of so valiant a prince as 
 Agesilaus, he seated liimseU' on the grass by his side, 
 and they soon contracted an intimate iViendsliip. Tiie 
 return ol Agesilaus to his own kingdom was rendered 
 necessary, iVom a league entered into between the Athe- 
 nians and Thebans. On reacliing Greece, he found an 
 order by the ephori, who were magistrates appointed to 
 control the regal power in Sparta, to invade Boeotia. 
 On the plains of Chaeronaea, he encountered the Greeks 
 and Thebans, when he was severely wounded. He be- 
 sieged Corinth, but was obliged to retire, after laying 
 waste the surroiniding country. The Spartans, at this 
 time, began to commit acts, of oppression on their less 
 powerful neighbours : But the Thebans, in a few years, 
 became formidable under Epammondas, and defeated 
 them with great loss at the battle of Leuctra ; and Agesi- 
 laus received another defeat from the same commander, 
 at the battle of Mantiniea. 
 
 A contest for the throne of Egypt had arisen between 
 Tachos and Nectanebis. Agesilaus proceeded with the 
 command of an army into tliat country, as an auxiliary 
 to the former. His fame was well known before he ar- 
 rived ; but when the Egyptians, who crowded to see him, 
 beheld a little old man, sitting on the sea-shore, clad in 
 homely attire, they could scarcely conceal their disap- 
 pointment. In consequence of some personal afi'ront 
 from Tachos, Agesilaus sullied the honour of his coun- 
 try, by deserting Tachos, and supporting the interests 
 of Nectanebis, the other competitor for the crown. Af- 
 ter establishing Nectanebis on the throne of Egypt, 
 Agesilaus returned homewards ; and, in the course of 
 the voyage, was driven into the port of Menelaus, on the 
 coast of Africa, where he died, in the 84th year of his 
 age, and 42d of his reign, 360 B. C. 
 
 The life of Agesilaus has been recorded by several 
 historians, who represent him as a great general, and an 
 illustrious statesman ; simple and unassuming in his 
 manners, and possessing all the domestic virtues. He 
 was an enemy to luxury, and supported himself and his 
 family in a style strictly conformable to Spartan frugali- 
 tv. See Uiiivers. Hist. vol. v. p. 460 ; Rollm's Anc. Hist. 
 
 (c) 
 
 AGGERHUUS, the name of a fortress in the diocese 
 of Aggerhuus, or Christiana, one of the four dioceses of 
 Norway. It is situated on the west side of the bay, 
 near which is the city of Christiana. The diocese of 
 Aggerhuus is the richest in the kingdom, and its govern- 
 or is the chief governor of Norway. He presides in the 
 high court of justice, and gives a final judgment in all 
 civil causes below a certain value. The population of 
 the diocese is 215,043 souls. E. Long. 10° 20'. N. Lat. 
 59° 6'. {w) 
 
 AGGREGATE Flowers, are those composed of 
 parts or florets, which are incorporated by means either 
 of the receptacle or calyx. See Botany, (to) 
 
 AGGREGATION, in chemistry. See Affinity, and 
 Attraction. 
 
 AGIMERE, a country in the East Indies, bounded by 
 Agra on the east, by Delhi on the north, by Guzerat on 
 the south, and on the west by the great sandy desert of 
 Agimcre, stretching along the eastern banks of the In- 
 dus for nearly 5000 IJritish miles, with a breadth varying 
 from 60 to 1 50 miles. It contains the districts of Agimere 
 Proper, Ranipour, loodpour, Rantampur, loinagur, Ban- 
 swalch, Nagore, and Bickaneer. Agimere, the capital 
 of this country, is situated in a delightful valley, sur- 
 
 rouHLcd by mountains. It is six miles in circumference, 
 and guarded by walls, towers, and a strong fortress. E. 
 Long. 75° 20'. N. Lat. 26° 24'. (w) 
 
 AGINCOURT,a small village in the French Nether- 
 lands, situated in the county of St Pol, celebrated for a 
 victory obtained over the French in 1415, by Henry V. 
 of England. 
 
 Henry, in support of his claims on France, had landed 
 at liarlieur, wuh a force consisting of 6000 men-at-arms, 
 and 24,000 foot ; and after reducing that place, which 
 was aeiended with great valour, he found his army so 
 much wasted by the fatigues of the siege, and tlie unu- 
 sual heat of the climate, that he was obliged to think of 
 returning to England. Havmg dismissed his transports, 
 he had no alternative but to march by land to Calais, 
 through difficulties apparently insurmountable. An ar- 
 my of 100,000 men was ready to oppose his progress ; 
 a force which, if properly conducted, might have com- 
 pletely destroyed the small, though valiant, band of En- 
 glish, now scarcely amounting to 10,000 men. It is said 
 that Henry, aware of his danger, offered to resign his 
 conquest of Harfleur, for permission to conduct his army 
 unmolested to Calais ; but his proposal was haughtily 
 rejected by the French leaders, who were already confi- 
 dent of victory. He therefore continued to advance, by 
 slow and easy marches ; encouraging his troops by his 
 cheerful and engaging manner, and patiently submitting 
 to all the toils and privations of the meanest soldier. He 
 wished to pass the Somme at the ford of Blanquetague, 
 where Edward, in a similar situation, had escaped from 
 Philip de Valois ; but finding that pass rendered im- 
 practicable by sharp stakes, and defended by a strong 
 force on the opposite" side, he marched higher up the 
 river, till he came to a ford near St Quintin, which was 
 not sufficiently guarded, and led over his army in safety. 
 When he arrived at the village of Agincourt, on the 
 evening of the 24th of October, he observed the whole 
 French army posted in such a manner, that he could 
 not proceed without giving them battle. As the moon 
 shone clear, he carefully reconnoitred the ground ; and 
 having discovered a narrow plain, flanked by two woods, 
 he resolved to expect there the attack of the enemy. 
 The evening preceding the engagement was spent by 
 the two armies in a very diff"erent manner. By the 
 French, who exulted in their numbers, and were con- 
 fident of victory, it was spent in noise and revelry, or in 
 forming schemes for the division of the plunder ; while 
 the English, after retiring to their tents, employed the 
 remainder of the night in devotion, commending them- 
 selves to 'he protection of the God of battles. At break 
 of day, the two armies prepared for the engagement. 
 Their situation naturally reminded the English of the 
 battles of Cressy and Poictiers, and inspired them with 
 the hope of equal success ; while Henry, riding along 
 the lines with a cheerful countenance, animated them by 
 the promise of rewards and honours, and exhorted them 
 to emulate the valour of their ancestors. He arranged 
 his troops in a manner admirably calculated to make up 
 for his defect of numbers. His first line consisted of 
 archers, four in file ; each of whom, besides his bows 
 and arrows, was provided with a sword, a battleax, and 
 a stake pointed with iron at both ends, which he fixed 
 before him in the ground, to protect him from the caval- 
 ry. Four hundred pikemen were concealed in a wood 
 on the left of the field of battle ; and 200 archers lay in 
 ambush in a small meadow on the right. The command 
 of the first line was given to the duke of York, with
 
 AG I 
 
 AGI 
 
 201 
 
 ihc lords Ucaumont, \Villougliby,aiicl Fanhopc. Henry 
 placed hiniscU al ihc head ol' llic scioiid, attended by liis 
 youngest brotlicr, the duke of Gloucester. The third 
 was conducted by the duke ol Exeter, the king's uncle. 
 
 When the armies were arranged for battle, they paus- 
 ed for some time, gazing at each other in solenui si- 
 lence ; till Henry, fearing lest the French should discover 
 their danger, and decline the engagement, oidcrcd the 
 charge to be sounded, lielore begnming the attack, the 
 archers kneeled down and kissed the giomid ; then in- 
 stantly stalling up, discharged a volley of arrows, which 
 prodigiously galled the crowded ranks of the enemy. 
 On a signal given, the archers in ambush arose, and 
 levelling their arrows at the flank of the French line, 
 threw it into some disorder. The deep clay soil, mois- 
 tened by late rains, and the pallisadoes fixed in front of 
 the English archers, occasioned the complete confusion 
 of the French cavalry ; the narrow compass in which 
 they were confined prevented them from recovering any 
 order ; consternation became general through the army ; 
 and Henry, perceiving his advantage, ordered his ar- 
 chers to advance, and seize the moment of victory. Hav- 
 ing expended their arrows, they threw away their bows, 
 and falling with their battle-axes upon the French, hew- 
 ed Uiem down with resistless fury. The first line of 
 the enemy being thus cut to pieces, the second advanc- 
 ed to the charge, and was encountered by the line which 
 Hcniy commanded in person. A furious conflict ensued. 
 The duke of Gloucester was wounded , and thrown to the 
 ground ; and the king, while protecting his fallen bro- 
 ther, was assailed with great violence by the duke 
 d'Alen§on. Henry, recovering from the shock, struck 
 his antagonist to the ground ; and the French, disheart- 
 ened by the fall of their leader, made no more resistance. 
 The English had now leisure to make prisoners, and had 
 advanced without interruption to the open plain, when 
 they observed the remains of the enemy's rear-guard 
 still maintaining the appearance of a line of battle. An 
 alarm at the same time was heard from the camp, which 
 was attacked by 600 peasants, led on by some gentlemen 
 of Picardy ; and Henry, beginning to entertain appre- 
 hensions from his prisoners, issued general orders for 
 putting them to death. He soon discovered, however, 
 the true cause of the alarm, and stopping the slaughter, 
 was yet able to save a great number of the prisoners. 
 " No battle," says Hume, "was ever more fatal to France, 
 by the number of princes and nobility slain or taken pri- 
 soners." 
 
 The French are said to have left 10,000 on the field, 
 among whom were many persons of the highest distinc- 
 tion ; and 14,000 prisoners fell into the hands of the Eng- 
 lish. Henry is said to have lost only 40 men ; but 
 among these was the duke of York, who perished fight- 
 ing by the king's side ; a death too honourable for his 
 infamous life. The victorious monarch was received 
 with transport by his subjects, many of whom leaped in- 
 to the sea to meet his barge as it approached the shore. 
 
 AGIS IV. king of Lacedemon, and colleague of Leo- 
 nidas, in the government of Sparta, was the son of Eu- 
 damidas, and the sixteenth lineal descendant from Agesi- 
 laus. Historians affirm, that he was a youth of singular 
 promise ; and that in matiirer age, he prepared, by the 
 introduction of new laws, to correct all the abuses that 
 had crept into the Spartan government. This he found 
 a measure of particular difficulty, from the interested 
 views of individuals ; but he was supported by his ma- 
 
 VoL. I. Part I. 
 
 ternal uncle Agcsllaus, though with a selfish design, and 
 likewise by many of the citizens. They obtained a. 
 law for the equalization ofpro[)crty; and Agis himself, 
 as an example of disinterested liberality, shared a valua- 
 ble estate with the conimunily. In" consC(]nence of his 
 exertions, Leonidas was deposed and banished. The in- 
 troduction ol mortification, and stlf-dbnial, among a peo- 
 ple that had advanced far in luxury, was sooii found to 
 be a chimerical plan. They Ijccame dissatisfied with the 
 projected novelties ; and while Agis was leading an ar- 
 my to aid the Achaeans, tlie indiscretion of his uncle 
 Agesilaus during his absence, occasioned a conspiracy 
 for the restoration of Leonidas. The conspirators hav- 
 ing succeeded in their object, forced Agis, upon his re- 
 turn, to take sanctuary in a temple, which he never left 
 but for the purpose of bathing. On one of these occa- 
 sions, he was surprised, from the treachery of Amphares 
 and Dcmochares, and dragged to a prison, which Leoni- 
 das surrounded with a band of soldiers. The cphori 
 having then questioned him respecting his views in al- 
 tering the laws, he answered, that it Avasforthc restora- 
 tion of those of Lycurgus. Sentence of death was pass- 
 ed upon him ; but the attending niinistcrs of the law, 
 until forced by Democharcs, refused to conduct him to 
 a chamber reserved for the execution of criminals. He 
 was there strangled, and he submitted to his sentence 
 with the most heroic finnness. The grandmother of 
 Agis shared the same fate with her son ; and the sena- 
 tors, not satiated with the blood which they had shed, or- 
 dered Agistrata, the mother of Agis, to enter the dun- 
 geon which contained the bodies of her mother and her 
 son, and condemned her to the same ignominious death, 
 which she suffered with Spartan fortitude. See Plu- 
 tarch, and Rollin's Ancient History, vol. v. p. 425. (f) 
 
 AGITATION of the waters of lakes, &c. a natural 
 phenomenon, which generally accompanies earthquakes, 
 though agitations have sometimes been perceived when 
 no motion of the earth was felt. A very remarkable 
 phenomenon of this kind was observed by Dr Fleming, 
 on the morning of the 12th September 1784, in Loch 
 Tay, in the Highlands of Scotland. The water of a bay 
 in this lake was observed to retire above five yards with- 
 in its ordinary boundary, and in four or five minutes re- 
 sumed its former level. This agitation was repeated 
 three or four times in a quarter of an hour, when ail on 
 a sudden, the water rushed from the east and west in 
 opposite currents across the bay;^nd near the margin 
 of the deep part of the bay, it rose in the form of a great 
 wave, leaving the bottom of the bay dry, at the distance 
 of about 100 yards from its natural boundary. When the 
 opposing currents met, they made a clashing noise ; and 
 as the strongest impulse was from the east, the wave 
 rolled slowly westward, gradually diminishing for the 
 space of five minutes, when it wholly disappeared. The 
 water continued to ebb and flow, in about the space of 
 seven minutes, for two hours, when the agitation ceased. 
 At the same time, a river north of the bay ran back- 
 wards, and retired about 12 feet from its opposite banks. 
 For five succeeding days the ebbing and flowing conti- 
 nued, and similar agitations were occasionally observed 
 till the 1 5th of October, since which they have never 
 returned. Dr Fleming's paper will be found in the 
 Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh, vol. i. 
 p. 200. Fer an account of similar phenomena, see Phil. 
 Trans. 1756, p. 521, 523, 530, 54. Id. vol. xlix. p. 642. 
 Id. ir62, p. 477. Phil. Mag. vol. xi. p. 163. (w) 
 
 AGNANO, a circular lake, about three-fourths of a 
 Co
 
 202 
 
 agn 
 
 AGN 
 
 mile ill diameter, near Pozzuolo, in the ncighbourliood 
 of Nuples. Its shape is that of iin inverted funnel, hav- 
 ing its sides and bottom formed of tufa, mixed with frag- 
 ments of lava and pumiec-stone, and has the appearance 
 of having been the (!rater of a volcano. There is some- 
 times an ebullition of the water of this lake, which rises 
 to the height of two inches, but without any perceptible 
 lieat. It contains great quantities of tench and Irogs. 
 Sec Spallanzani's 'J'ravcln, vol. i. p. 125; and Keysler's 
 TravtU; vol. iii. p. 1 13. (it>) 
 
 AGNES, St, or the Light House Island, one of the 
 Scilly isles. It is well cultivated, and fertile in corn and 
 grass. The light-house stands on the highest ground, 
 nnd is built with stone from the foundation to the Ian- 
 thorn, which is 51 feet high. W. Long. 6° 46'. N. Lat. 
 49° 56'. (w) 
 
 AGNESI, Maria Gaetana, a lady of extraordinary 
 genius, and most extensive acquirements, was born at 
 Milan on the 16th of May, 1718. Her father, Pietro 
 Agnesi of Milan, was royal feudatory of Monteveglia 
 and its dependencies; and being a man of some rank 
 and consequence, he was disposed, from paternal affec- 
 tion, to provide suitably for the education of his infant 
 daughter, who gave the most striking indications of ta- 
 lent. From her tenderest years, she discovered a won- 
 derful aptness, and a vehement desire, for acquiring lan- 
 guages. Under the direction of proper masters, she 
 studied at the very same time the Lathi and Greek, the 
 French and German ; and while the rapidity of her pro- 
 gress excited astonishment, such were the prodigious 
 powers of her memory, that she could easily pursue 
 those diversified objects without feeling the smallest de- 
 gree of confusion. When yet scarcely nine years old, 
 this suiprising child delivered a Latin oration, to prove 
 that the cultivation of letters is not inconsistent with the 
 female character, before an assembly of learned persons, 
 invited to her father's house. 
 
 At the age of eleven, the young Agnesi could not 
 only read Greek, and translate it instantly into Latin, but 
 could even speak that refined language, and with the 
 same apparent ease and fluency as if it had been her 
 native tongue. Nor did these acquisitions absorb her 
 whole attention; a nobler field was opened to the exer- 
 cise of her mental faculties. She now began to read 
 Euclid's Elements, and proceeded in algebra as far as 
 quadratic equations. Thus prepared, she advanced 
 with ardour to the study of natural philosophy ; but not 
 content with the sol5?r truths there unfolded, she soared 
 to the heights of metaphysics, and engaged in the most 
 abstruse and intricate disquisitions of that contentious 
 science. 
 
 After the young lady had attained the age of U, her 
 father, anxious to forward her ardour for improvement, 
 and willing to gratify her ambition for literary distinc- 
 tion, invited occasionally to his house a number of per- 
 sons, the most respectable in Milan by their rank and 
 learning. In the midst of this grave auditory, Donna 
 Agnesi made her appearance, and without resigning the 
 native delicacy of her sex, she maintained a succession 
 of new theses on various difiicult parts of philosophy, 
 and handled the arguments with such dexterity and 
 commanding eloquence, as singly to vanquish every 
 opponent that entered the field of controversy. These 
 disputations were carried on all of them in the Latin lan- 
 guage, Avhieh she spoke with the utmost case, purity, 
 and copious elegance. Every thing conspired to heighten 
 the impression produced on the admiring spectators. In 
 
 the full bloom of youth, her person agreeable, her man- 
 ner graceful, an air of gentleness and modesty gave ir- 
 resistible charms to her whole demeanour. 
 
 Such, for several years, was the great theatre of hcF 
 glory. But havhig nearly completed the circle of phi- 
 losophy, and exhausted the chief topics of discussion, 
 she resolved at length to close that career with a solem- 
 nity suitable to the occasion. In the year 1758, Agnesi 
 made her last brilliant display, before an august assem- 
 bly, composed of the most learned and illustrious of the 
 Milanese nobility, the senators, and foreign ministers, 
 with the most distinguished professors in all the branches 
 of science and literature. The substance of these philo- 
 sophical conferences was afterwards published in a 
 quarto volume, entitled Frojiosilioiu-s PliUnsoJihicie, yuas, 
 cri bris Dis/iutatiuiiibus domi habilis, coram c/aris/>iijih xn- 
 ris, L'xjdicahat cxtfin/iore, ct ab objiciis vindicabat Maria 
 Cajttana de Agnesiis Alediotantrisis. 
 
 Agnesi now bent her whole attention to the culture of 
 mathematics; and, without guide or assistance, she 
 composed a very useful commentary on L'Hospital's 
 Conic Sections, which is said to exist still in manuscript. 
 In the sublimer departments of that science, her studies 
 were directed by the matured experience of Rampinelli, 
 professor of mathematics in the university of Pisa; but 
 she soon gave proofs of her amazing proficiency, in di- 
 gesting a complete body of the modern calculus. This 
 excellent work, entitled, " Analytical Institutions, for 
 the use of the Italian Youth," appeared in 1748, in two 
 volun;es quarto, and was highly esteemed by the best 
 judges, and justly regarded as exhibiting the fullest and 
 clearest view of the state of the science at that period. 
 She was, in consequence, elected by acclamation a mem- 
 ber of the Institute of Sciences of Bologna; and the 
 pope farther conferred on her the title of Professor of 
 Mathematics in the university of that city. 
 
 But Agnesi was already sated with literary fame. That 
 sun, which in its ascent had shone forth with such daz- 
 zling radiance, was, through the rest of its course, 
 shrouded in clouds and darkness. The fever of genius 
 had preyed on her mind, and the high fit of excitement 
 was quickly succeeded by a hopeless depression of spi- 
 rits. She repelled the seductions of human learning, 
 and abandoned for ever her favourite mathematical pur- 
 suits. Renouncing the vanities of this world, she with- 
 drew from society, embraced a life of rigid seclusion, 
 and sunk, by degrees, into the languor of religious me- 
 lancholy. She studied nothing- but Hebrew, and the 
 rhapsodies of the Greek fathers of the church. For up- 
 wards of twenty years she denied all access to strangers. 
 The famous Lalande complains, in his " Travels through 
 Italy," that he was not allowed the honour of visiting 
 that prodigy ; and father Boscovich himself, whose reli- 
 gious principles must have been unexceptionable, expe- 
 rienced, notwithstanding his repeated importunities, a 
 similar refusal. Indulging that gloomy temper, she re- 
 tired into a convent, and assumed the habit of a blue nun. 
 She sought to forget the world, and was herself forgot- 
 ten. She died about the year 1770, though we have not 
 been able, with all our diligence, to discover the precise 
 period of her demise. 
 
 The Instituzioni Anahjtiche of Agnesi were translated 
 into English many years ago, by Mr Colson, Lucasian 
 professor of mathematics at Cambridge. The transla- 
 tion was discovered among the papers of that ingenious 
 mathematician, by the learned baron Mascres, who put 
 the manuscript into the hands of Mr HcUins, as editor.
 
 AGO 
 
 AGll 
 
 203 
 
 and generously defrayed the expenses attending the pub- 
 lication, (x) 
 
 AGNUS Dei, or Lamb of God, is a cake of wax, liav- 
 ing the figure of a lamb, which supports tlic banner of 
 the cross. After having been consecrated by the pope, 
 they arc distributed in donations to the people, who re- 
 gard them as powerful charms, capable of protecting 
 them from every thing that is dangerous, and of prompt- 
 ing them to every thing that is good. The nuns of 
 France, and other Catholic countries, ornamented their 
 Agiii del by strewing over them a sliining kind of talc. 
 See Beckman's Hist, of Inxicntion.i, vol. ii. p. 170 See 
 Journal des Scavans, torn. xxxi. p. 25:2. ^cl. Li/is. Sufi. 
 vol. iv. p. 224. (to) 
 
 AGONNA, or Agwana, in Africa, a small territory 
 on the Gold Coast, extending along the shore, from the 
 Devil's Mount, which separates it fiom Acron, to Ano- 
 nea, a village on the frontiers of Aquamboe ; bounded 
 on the north by Sanguay, and on the south by the Atlan- 
 tic ocean. Its towns and villages are numerous. In 
 extent and population, it surpasses Acron ; vying with it 
 in beauty and richness of soil. Particles of gold, min- 
 gled with the sand, after a heavy fall of rain, ind cate the 
 riches of its mines ; but the natives wisely prevent their 
 being opened, lest the Europeans should seize on their 
 territory to obtain possession of its treasures. It is wa- 
 tered by a large river, which abounds with fish and oys- 
 ters. In the middle of Agonna, the Englisii have erect- 
 ed an inconsiderable fort, at a village called Simpa, or 
 Winiba; near which is Barku, a village once frequented 
 by the French. The language, which is thus far uni- 
 form along the Gold Coast, changes at Barku into a dif- 
 ferent dialect; and, as we advance a little farthei", be- 
 comes altogether new. This town, which is accounted 
 the capital of Agonna, stands in the middle of a fertile 
 and pleasant country. Here the English once possessed 
 great influence ; but the Dutch have now gained the 
 ascendency, and have erected a triangular fort, movnited 
 with twelve pieces of cannon. (X:) 
 
 AGOWS, a people in Abyssinia, who are divided into 
 two nations; the one called the Agows of Damot, from 
 their vicinity to that province ; the other the Tcheratz 
 Agows, from Tchera, a town and district near Lasta and 
 Begemder. (See Abyssinia.) Though possessed of a 
 country abounding with all the necessaries of life, the 
 Agows are reduced, by taxes and oppression, to extreme 
 penuiy and wretchedness. Mr Bruce saw a number of 
 their women so wrnikled and sun-burnt, as hardly to ap- 
 pear human creatures, wandering with children on their 
 backs, under the noon-day heat, and gathering the seeds 
 of bent-grass to make bread. Their tcrrltorv is only 60 
 miles long and aljout 50 milts broad, yet it supplies Gon- 
 dar, and all the neighbouring country, with provisions 
 and luxuries. They preserve their butter, which they 
 carry to a great distance, by means of a yellow root call- 
 ed mocmoco, resembling a carrot. The dress of the 
 Agows consists of hides, tanned and softened by an art 
 peculiar to themselves. These hides hang down to their 
 feet, in the form of a shirt, and are girded with a belt 
 about the middle ; the lower part resembles a large dou- 
 ble petticoat, one ply of which is turned back over the 
 shoulders, and fastened with a broach or skewer, across 
 their breast, before : in this fold, the married women 
 carry their children at their backs. The Agows are 
 below the middle size : their women are marriageable 
 at nine, and continue to bear children till thirty. Bar- 
 renness is unknown among the Agows ; and their coun- 
 
 try is so popiilous, that it can send to the ficlj 4000 
 horse, besides a imnierous infantry. But as the Abyssi- 
 nian princes depend upon this nation chiefly for the pro- 
 duce of their country, they generally compound with 
 them for an additional tribute, instead of their services 
 in the field. 
 
 In religion, the Agows are grossly idolatrous and su- 
 perstitious. Tlie Genius of the Al)ay, or Abyssinian 
 Nile, is the object of their adoration, whom they address 
 by the titles of " The Light of the World, Tlie Father 
 of the Universe, their Saviour, The God of Peace, and 
 The Everlasting God." Among the supplications, pre- 
 ferred to this deity, is one for the preservation of a par- 
 ticular kind of serpents, which are supposed to prognos- 
 ticate the approach of good or evil. Before undertaking 
 a journey, or any affair of consequence, they feed these 
 serpents with butter and milk; and their refusal to eat 
 is regarded as a certain omen of calamity. Before an 
 invasion of the Gallas, they pretend, that these sagacious 
 serpents disappear. They deprecate thunder, because 
 it is hurtful to the bees ; and honey and wax constitute 
 the principal part of their revenue. On the first ap- 
 pearance of the Dogstur, they have an annual festival of 
 peculiar solemnity. A black heifer is sacrificed, and 
 distributed among the several clans, who eat the car- 
 case raw, and then drink of the water of the Nile. The 
 bones of the heifer are burnt to ashes; and its head is 
 carried to a cavern, said to reach below the fountauis of 
 the river, where they perform a mysterious worship, 
 which it is unlawful to divulge. 
 
 The Agows of Lasta have a language different from 
 that of the other Agows, and are said to live in caverns.. 
 Indeed, all tlic mountains, in the territories of the Agows, 
 are perforated by caves, which have been once used, 
 either as habitations, or as places of retreat from their 
 enemies. Some of them, as that of Gccsh, are now the 
 scenes of their religious mysteries. (X-) 
 
 AGRA, the most extensive province, or soubah, in 
 Hindostan; bounded on the north by Delhi, on the east 
 by Oude, on the south by Malwa, and on the west by 
 Agimere. It contains thirteen circars, or counties, 
 which again are subdivided into 203 pergunnahs, or hun- 
 dreds. Agra yields a revenue of 16,156,257 rupees; 
 and possesses a military force of 50,600 cavalry, 577,570 
 infantry, and 221 elephants. Its indigo, which is gathered 
 at Bianes, about two leagues distant from the town of 
 Agra, is esteemed the most valuable in the East Indies ; 
 and it produces, besides, lemons, oranges, rice, and cot- 
 ton. White cloth, silken stuffs, silver and gold lace, are 
 its staple manufactures. 
 
 This province contains forty large towns, and 340 
 villages. Agra, its capital, stands on the river Jumnah, 
 about 50 miles above its confluence with the Tehamu, 
 and 300 miles east of Surat. It was once an inconsidera- 
 ble town, with a small castle of earth, till it was enlarged 
 and adorned by the emperor Akbar, who made it the 
 seat of his court and empire. In the course of his long 
 reign, and that of his son, it became the first city in In- 
 dia for wealth and magnificence, and still displavs many 
 striking monuments of its former splendour. This city 
 is very long, but by no means broad ; built hi the form of 
 a crescent, and surrounded by a wall of red stone and a 
 ditch a hundred feet wide. The streets are in general 
 narrow and irregular, the houses are low and mean ; 
 but the space within the wall is laid out in gardens and 
 palaces, which give it a grand and beautiful appearance. 
 The castle and palace are structures of amazing cxteiTt 
 C c 2
 
 204 
 
 AG 11 
 
 AGR 
 
 and grandfur. The walls of the castle consist of brick 
 and stone, tcrrasscd in several places, and 200 cubits 
 high. An ample lawn extends irom the castle to the 
 river, where the troops arc exercised, and various 
 annisenienls are exhil)ited in the emperor's view. Tlie 
 palace, which is said to have occupied 1000 workmen for 
 twelve years, and to have cost three millions of rupees, 
 stands within the castle, and contains three courts en- 
 compassed with porticoes and galleries, all painted and 
 gilt. Agra contains more than GO caravanseras, 800 
 public baths, and a great number of mosques and mag- 
 nificent sepulchres. Among these is the mausoleum of 
 Akbar; and one erected by Shah-jehan to his empress 
 Mahd-alia, or Taje-mehalle, which cost 60 lacks of 
 rupees, equivalent to 750,000/. sterling. 
 
 From Agra to Lahore, in the Panjab, a distance of 
 500 miles, the road is shaded on both sides by rows of 
 lofty trees, forming a kind of grove, which, for extent, 
 beauty, and utility in that burning climate, is altogether 
 unequalled. N. Lat. 27° 15'. E. Long. 78° 29'. A com- 
 plete account of the splendid mausoleum of Taje-mehalle 
 may be seen in Bernier's Voyage to Surat, &c. or in 
 Osborne's Votjagex, vol. ii. p. 194, 195. (X) 
 
 AGRARIAN Laws, from agcr, a field, arc those laws 
 which were enacted at Rome, relative to a division, or 
 partition of lands. The most celebrated of these laws 
 is that which was published by Spurius Cassius, in the 
 year of Rome 268, and A. C. 486, for dividing the con- 
 quered lands among the citizens, and for prohibiting 
 each person from possessing more than a certain number 
 of acres. There were about fifteen or twenty agrarian 
 laws, the chief of which are the Lex Licinia, in 386 
 U. C. ; the Lex Ftaininia, in 525 ; two fiemjironian Laws, 
 in 620; the Lex J/iuleia-, in 653; the Lex Btebia ; the 
 Lex Cornelia, in 673; the /.<?.r Servilia, in 690 ; the Lex 
 Julia, ill 69 1 ; the J.ex JElia Licinia ; the Lex Livia ; 
 the Lex Mania ; the I^ex Roscia, passed after the 
 taking of Carthage ; the Lex Floria ; and the Lex Titia. 
 
 AGRICOLA, Cneius Julius, a celebrated Roman 
 general, who long waged war against the ancient inha- 
 bitants of Britain. He was the son of Julius Graecinus, 
 and born in the year 40. His father was put to death by 
 Caligula, and his mother afterwards murdered in a pira- 
 tical excursion by the fleet of Otho. Agricola studied 
 law and philosophy at Marseilles, and then served in 
 Britain under Suetonius Paulinus, who admitted him to 
 the mo^t intimate confidence. On returning to Rome, 
 he was made quaestor of Asia; where, though under 
 an avaricious proconsul, Titius Salvianus, his integrity 
 was preserved uncorruptcd. During the reign of Galba, 
 he was appointed to investigate the gifts and riches of 
 the temples. Immediately on Vespasian's assumption 
 of the empire, Agricola resolved to support him ; in 
 consequence of which he was elevated to the patrician 
 rank, and constituted governor of Aquitania. He then 
 <;btained the considship along with Domitian ; when he 
 agreed to bestow his daughter on Tacitus the famous 
 historian, to whom we are indebted for the memoirs of 
 his life. 
 
 The Romans had never been able to conquer Britain ; 
 their partial successes were counteracted by continual 
 revolts; and hence the presence of a skilful commander 
 was required. This important charge was conferred on 
 Agricola; who, in the year 78, arrived in Britain, and 
 first attacked the Ordovires, or inhabitants of North 
 Wales, who had recently cut off a squadron of Roman 
 
 horse. Having carried on several successful campaigns 
 in this island, he endeavoured to secure his conquests, 
 by inculcating a desire for peace among the inhabitants, 
 instead of keeping them in a state of constant warfare. 
 He exhorted them to become more civilized, and to aban- 
 don hostilities, and live in tranquillity. Tacitus affirms, 
 that in consequence of this many acquired the Roman 
 language, and adopted the garb of their invaders. But 
 their pacific intentions were of short duration, and Agri- 
 cola, in the third year of his residence, extended his 
 inroads as far as the river Tay. He crossed the Forth at 
 Queensferry, A. D. 84, and subdued whole regions 
 formerly unknown to the Romans. In the sixth summer, 
 which he spent in Britain, the natives surprised his 
 camp, and broke in upon the ninth legion ; but the Ro- 
 mans having found means to attack them in the rear, 
 they were forced to retreat with great loss, and, if it had 
 not been for the intervening woods and morasses, this 
 battle would have termuiated the war. 
 
 The following summer was most disastrous to the 
 Caledonians. In consequence of their late defeat, they 
 had conveyed their wives and children to places of secu- 
 rity. They now anned their youth, collected all their 
 forces, and prepared, under Galgacus, their renowned 
 leader, to resist the Roman general, who approached to 
 attack them on the Grampian hills. Their army, consist- 
 ing of 30,000 men, was drawn up on the declivity of a 
 hill, and chariots and horsemen occupied the centre. 
 The Romans having only 11,000 men, Agricola com- 
 menced the engagement cautiously. His troops, ad- 
 vancing close to the Caledonians, rendered their small 
 shields and unwieldy swords of little avail ; and hence, 
 after a keen encounter, they were completely routed. 
 When the Caledonians first gave way, the chariots, 
 mingling with them, and the horses without riders, oc- 
 casioned great destruction. They experienced a signal 
 defeat, leaving 10,000 men on the field, while the Romans 
 lost only 340. 
 
 Agricola communicated his success to Domitian, who, 
 with affected regard, obtained him a triumph, and had a 
 statue erected to him: but he was soon after recalled 
 from Britain. Domitian led his subjects to expect that 
 Agricola should be appointed governor of Syria ; he 
 contrived, however, to evade his promise, and also in- 
 duced Agricola to decline the proconsulate of Asia or 
 Africa. Agricola seems now to have lived in retirement. 
 He died soon afterwards ; but not without suspicion of 
 poison, and of Domitian being accessory to it. By his 
 will, he made this emperor a co-heir along with his wife 
 and daughter, by which he was extremely gratified; 
 from his ignorance, as Tacitus wisely observes, that a 
 good father never gave his inheritance to any prince but 
 a bad one. See Tacitus in Vita ^igricolx. (f) 
 
 AGRICOLA, George, was bom at Glauchen, iii 
 Upper Saxony, 24th March, 1494. He received the 
 medical part of his education in Italy, and, returning to 
 his native country, settled as a physician at Joachimsted. 
 He afterwards accompanied the dukes Maurice and 
 Augustus in their march to join the anny of Charles V. 
 in Bohemia ; and it is probable, that he there contracted 
 that ardent desire of examining fossils, which remained 
 with hun through life, and laid the foundation of his 
 future greatness. After his return from Bohemia, he 
 continued to prosecute his favourite study with increas- 
 ing ardour, till it becaitie at length the sole object of 
 his attention. Regardless of interest, he relinquished 
 his profession; and having removed to Chemnitz, he
 
 AGR 
 
 AGK 
 
 205 
 
 hcgan, at his own expense, those interesting and suc- 
 cessful experiments, which so eminently advanced the 
 science of mineralogy. He published the result of his 
 labours in several elegant treatises, remarkable for the 
 ease and simplicity of their diction, and more particu- 
 larly for that vivacity of expression, so pleasing in the 
 page of experimental philosophy. Although he had 
 lived for many years among Lutherans, he still remain- 
 ed faithful to the Papal religion. In his latter days, he 
 is said to have attacked the Protestants with considera- 
 ble severity, which very much exasperated his towns- 
 men, the Lutherans ; and to such an unreasonable length 
 did they carry this hatred against him, that, on his death, 
 which happened at Chemnitz on the 21st November, 
 1555, they denied his body the last office of humanity, 
 and suffered it to lie for several days unburied ; a 
 striking example of that blind and superstitious bigotry, 
 which has too frequently disgraced the annals of Chris- 
 tianity. It was at length found necessary to remove it 
 to Zeits, where it received an honourable interment in 
 the principal church, (v) 
 
 AGRICOLA, John, a native of Eislebcn, and remark- 
 able as the fovuider of Antinoniianism, was born on the 
 20th April, 14-92. He was a friend and disciple of Lu- 
 ther, the celebrated German reformer, and attained to 
 considerable eminence in the Lutheran church. Vanity 
 and ambition formed the leading features of his charac- 
 ter. Although he enjoyed the dignities of minister and 
 principal of a college, his aspiring and restless disposi- 
 tion did not long permit him to continue in this situa- 
 tion. He quitted his country, and arrived at Wittemberg 
 In 1536, where he was, in a short time, promoted to the 
 
 office of a professor. In matters of a religious nature, 
 he had hitherto appeared in the humble station of a 
 follower, and was but little known in the world. His 
 independent spirit, however, now began to vindicate its 
 freedom ; and, instead of tamely submitluig to publish 
 the sentiments of others, he ventured to think for him- 
 self, and to propagate his own opinions. While Luther 
 was representing the merits of Christ as the only source 
 of salvation, and eagerly contending against that doctrine 
 of the Romish church, which holds out heaven as the 
 reward of legal obedience, Agricola extended his doc- 
 trine still farther, and, throwing aside the law, boldly 
 asserted, that the gospel itself was fully sufficient, both 
 as a rule of conduct and a mean of instruction. He con- 
 sidered it as substituted in place of the law, and as com- 
 prehending not merely the doctrine of Christ's merits, 
 but also those sublime precepts of morality, which he 
 and his apostles inculcated as rules of obedience. The 
 chief fault of Agricola was the inaccurate and unguard- 
 ed manner in which he expressed his doctrine, and thus 
 rendered it capable of the most dangerous interpreta- 
 tion. Of this his adversaries took advantage; and Lu- 
 ther, in particular, by his own zeal and activity, second- 
 ed by the authority of the electors of Saxony and Bran- 
 denberg, compelled him at length to renounce his 
 pernicious system. This recantation, however, arose 
 more from the absolute necessity of Agricola's circum- 
 stances, than from any real change in his sentiments ; 
 for these he openly resumed after the death of Luther, 
 and gained proselytes to his doctrine. He acquired great 
 reputation at Berlin, where he assisted in composing 
 The Interim ; and died in 1566. See Antinomiaxs. (t) 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 Agricultuhe claims a pre-eminence above manufac- 
 tures and commerce, from its seniority and superior 
 usefulness ; and, to use an expression of the celebrated 
 Sully, may be regarded as the breasts from which the 
 state derives its support and nourishment. Manufac- 
 tures and commerce originally owed their existence to 
 agriculture, and the people employed in carrying them 
 on must constantly be fed by those who are engaged in 
 the parent art. Agriculture, therefore, may be consider- 
 ed as of the first importance to mankind ; because their 
 temporal welfare and prosperity depend upon receiving 
 a regular and sufficient supply of the various articles 
 cultivated by the agriculturist. 
 
 In an age like the present, when the utility of agri- 
 culture is so fully recognised, it would be unnecessary 
 to insist at any length upon the advantages which every 
 nation must enjoy, when that art is sufficiently under- 
 stood, and skilfully practised. The territory, possessed 
 by any people, is the origuial property, or capital stock, 
 from which they are supplied, not only with the necessa- 
 ries, but also with the comforts of life ; and in direct 
 proportion as their territory is improved, their prosperi- 
 ty will be advanced. It is from the surface of the earth, 
 that timber, cordage, and sails are procured for our 
 navy ; and that flax and wool, hides and tallow, madder 
 and other dye-stuffs, are obtained for home and foreign 
 consumption. If we penetrate into the interior parts of 
 the earth, we find eitlier limestone, marl, or other sub- 
 stances for invigorating the surface, and rendering it 
 constantly prolific. It is likewise from the bowels of 
 
 the earth, that copper, lead, tin, iron, and coals, are pro- 
 cured, and employment given to another part of the 
 community. But the remark, which of all others de- 
 serves attention, is, that it is only by cultivating the 
 soil, and raising as large a store of provisions as possi- 
 ble, that labourers, manufacturers, and artisans, can live 
 comfortably, or proceed with spirit in tlieir several oc- 
 cupations. 
 
 The utility of agriculture is also manifest, from the" 
 following considerations : — In the Jirst place, where 
 agriculture is neglected, population must be scanty, 
 because the necessaries of life are wanting ; and the 
 great body of the people must be miserable, because 
 regular employment cannot be furnished to them. Per- 
 haps at no period has husbandry been more perfectly 
 cultivated in Great Britain, than at the present ; heneo 
 the lower ranks are better paid, better fed, better cloth- 
 ed, and in every respect more comfortably situated, than 
 in former times. To territorial improvement may also 
 be attributed the increased and increasing strength of 
 the British empire, and the capability of sustaining bur- 
 dens, which, not twenty years ago, would have ruined 
 every description of its inhabitants. But, by the ex- 
 tension of agricultural improvement, by the meliorations 
 made on the capital stock of the country, the numbers 
 of the people have increased, manufactures have pros- 
 pered, and both inland and foreign commerce have been 
 carried on with vigour and success. 
 
 In the second place, were not agriculture carried on as 
 a separate trade, and a quantity of provisions thereby
 
 206 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 raised, which exceeded the wants of agriculturists, 
 every other art would not only be at a stand, but every 
 science, and every kind of mental improvement, would 
 be neglected. In the first stages of civilization, the la- 
 bour of each individual is barely sufficient to procure a 
 scanty and precarious subsistence for himself; and cir- 
 cumstances so adverse, not only form a bar to the in- 
 troduction of other arts, but also chill and render tor- 
 pid every faculty of the human mind. When these fa- 
 culties are blunted by the cravings of nature, or wasted 
 by the exercise of corporeal employment, man discovers 
 little of those rational powers, by which he is distinguish- 
 ed in the more advanced stages of society. It is only 
 in situations, where the means of subsistence are am- 
 ple, where the labour of a certain part of the communi- 
 ty is sufficient to provide the necessaries of life for the 
 whole, and where a considerable proportion of the re- 
 maining population are placed beyond the necessity of 
 manual labour to procure these necessaries, that the 
 powers of the mind develop themselves, and show what 
 man is really capaljle of performing. Hence, since the 
 art of agriculture came to be so well understood, and 
 subsistence, of course, to be secured to mankind, with- 
 out the necessity of bodily labour from all, the mind of 
 man has expanded, other arts and sciences have been 
 successfully cultivated, and man, from being not much 
 above the irrational animals, now fills a dignified place in 
 the scale of created beings. 
 
 History. 
 
 Though agriculture may be considered as of great an- 
 tiquity, and in some respects as coeval with the first 
 formation of society, yet materials are wanting, from 
 which a progressive history of the art can be composed. 
 It is probable, however, that mankind, in the early ages, 
 derived their subsistence from hunting in the forests, 
 and fishing in the rivers, and from the milk and flesh of 
 such domestic animals as they possessed; but how long 
 they continued in this situation, it is impossible to form 
 any conjecture. From the sacred writings, hoM'ever, 
 we learn that husbandry was understood by Noah, who 
 of course taught it to his sons, by whom it is likely the 
 art was spread over the world. The history of the an- 
 cient Egyptians informs us, that they were well acquaint- 
 ed with agriculture ; and perhaps the people of Italy, un- 
 der the Roman government, understood all the branches 
 of husbandry much better, and practised them more 
 successfully, than the present inhabitants of that coun- 
 try. There is sufficient authority for maintaining, that 
 an enlightened system of rural economy had become 
 prevalent during tlic Augustan age, and perhaps long 
 before ; for the Gcorgics of Virgil, and the other pro- 
 ductions of the Roman authors, show, that husbandry 
 was not only well understood by the Romans, but cor- 
 rectly and successfully practised. 
 
 In Britain, at the period of the Roman invasion, there 
 is reason toprestmie, that husbandry was hardly known, 
 except in the southern districts ; and that, even there, 
 it was very imperfectly executed. But whatever might 
 be the situation of Britain when invaded by the Romans, 
 it is certain, that the husbandry of the island, from the 
 Lands-End to the Frith of Fortli, was greatly improved 
 by the Roman soldiers ; and that all the grains, that are 
 now cultivated, were then raised to a considerable ex- 
 tent. In support of this assertion, could the smallest 
 doubt be entertained of its truth, we might refer to the 
 immense quantiti.'s of grain exported from Britain when 
 
 in possession of the Romans, and the obvious marks of 
 improvement left by that celebrated people when they 
 quilted the island. The Roman conquests, instead of 
 desolating the earth, as too often has been the case in 
 similar instances, insured the improvement of every 
 country that was subdued ; and the soldiers of that na- 
 tion, being drawn from the plough, spread a knowledge 
 of husbandry through every country which came under 
 their dominion. To benefit mankind, and increase their 
 comfort and happiness, seemed to be the invariable 
 wishes of the Roman cominanders. They seldom or 
 never burned or laid waste the country which they con- 
 cjuered, but rather strained every nerve to civilize the 
 inhabitants, and introduce the arts necessaiy for pro- 
 moting their comfort and happiness. To facilitate com- 
 munication from one district and town to another seems 
 to have been a primaiy object with the Romans ; and 
 the works of this kind, accomplished by them, are still 
 discernible in numerous places. By employing their 
 troops in this way, when not engaged in more active 
 service, the Roman commanders seem to have had 
 greatly the advantage over our inodern generals. In- 
 stead of suffering their soldiers to loiter in camps, or 
 riot in towns, and thus enervate their strength and relax 
 their morals, the Roman commanders kept their sol- 
 diers regularly at work, and, what was still better, at 
 work on objects highly beneficial to the interests of 
 those whom they subjugated. 
 
 When the Romans finally withdrew from Britain, the 
 country southward of the Frith of Forth had attained a 
 considerable degree of cultivation and improvement ; 
 but it does not appear, that the inhabitants had acquired 
 much of the martial spirit of their former masters and 
 instructors. The progress, however, which was made, 
 was soon obstructed, particularly in the districts between 
 the two walls, in consequence of the ravages of the 
 northern tribes, then known under the names of the 
 Maaeatae and the Caledonians. These fierce plunder- 
 ers prevailed so far over the unhappy Britons, as to in- 
 duce that enervated people to invite the Saxons to their 
 assistance, who, in their turn, became mas'ers of the 
 greatest part of the island. Excepting Wales, and the 
 western part of Scotland, then known under the name 
 of Strath Cluyid, the whole island, south of the Frith of 
 Forth, continued in the possession of Saxons for sevei-al 
 centuries. 
 
 But the state of South Britain was not completely 
 settled till the Norman invasion, when customs and ha- 
 bits were introduced, which, to this day, remain too 
 firmly established, to be removed without tlie special 
 interposition of the legislature. To his Nonnan barons, 
 William the Conqueror assigned great estates almost in 
 every country, as a reward of their services ; and these 
 grants were afterwards enlarged, when forfeitures oc- 
 curred from the rebellion of the old Saxon possessors. 
 The estates so bestowed were, by the great barons, or 
 officers, in some measure divided among their retainers, 
 or dependents, under the burden of military service, and 
 in this way feudal tenure was introduced, and created 
 into a regular system. 
 
 Before the Conquest, the country situated between 
 the Forth and Newcastle-upon-Tyne, then known under 
 the general name of Laudonia, or Lothian, had been ac- 
 quired by the Scottish nation, though afterwards the 
 limits of the two countries were nearly the same as they 
 stood at the memorable period of their union. The 
 Saxon government was favourable to internal improve-
 
 ACiUICULTURE. 
 
 207 
 
 ment, or raliier it coiUiniictl tlie system introduced by 
 the Romans ; but the Norman conquest, by introducing 
 the feudal system, checked the progress of cultivation, 
 and contributed to the decline ol husbandry. From the 
 Conquest to the days of Henry VIII. the practice of 
 agriculture had received little improvement ; and as for 
 theoretical, or scientific knowledge, there is not the 
 slightest vestige of any being acquired, or even sought 
 after, during the long period of five centuries. To the 
 haughty feudal baron, who reigned in a castle, and was 
 provided with an abundant siqiply of the necessaries of 
 life from liis extensive domains, the improvement of the 
 country was a trifling object ; and as his dependents held 
 by military tenure, they considered husbandry as unwor- 
 thy of their notice. Hence agriculture was carried on 
 only by the lowest of the people, and in such hands, the 
 art necessarily declined. The unhappy wars between 
 the houses of York and Lancaster gave husbandry also 
 a severe shock, one half of the country being desolated 
 and laid waste by the contending factions. 
 
 Sir Anthony Fitzherbert, one of the judges in the 
 court of common pleas, was the first person on record 
 who attempted to enlighten English husbandmen, by 
 writing on the art of agriculture. In 1554, he published 
 a treatise called The Book of Husbandi-y, and another 
 in 1539, entitled, T/ie Book of Surveyint; and Imfirove- 
 ment. The Book of Husbandry contains minute direc- 
 tions for ploughing, managing, and cropping land, to- 
 gether with a full account of the diseases which affect 
 horses and other animals, and the method of curing them. 
 The Book of Surveying relates to castles, woods, parks, 
 mills, and other branches of property ; and also contains 
 numerous advices concerning the best v.ay of impro- 
 ving arable land. 
 
 Sir Anthony Fitzherbert, laying it down as a primary 
 principle, that the majority of husbandmen live by the 
 plough, describes the several implements generally 
 used in his time for tilling the ground. He then points 
 out the other articles that belong to a team of horses ; 
 and when speaking of carts and wagons, very properly 
 reconnnends that the wheels on which they are mount- 
 ed should be shoed or bound about with iron ; whence 
 it may be inferred, that wheels altogether composed of 
 wood were at that time commonly used. It would ap- 
 pear, that the husbandman, in Fitzherbert's days, com- 
 bined a knowledge of every profession ; for among the 
 appendages of a plough, we find an ax, hatchet, hedge- 
 bill, auger, flail, spade, and shovel, particularly enumera- 
 ted. It is also recommended, that young husbandmen 
 should learn to make their yokes, oxbows, stools, and all 
 manner of geare, lesi the purchase of these articles should 
 be too costly for them. Fitzherbert seems to have 
 preferred oxen above horses in executing rural labour, 
 though he frankly admits that horses will go faster 
 than oxen on even and light ground, and that they are 
 quicker for all sorts of carriage work. — " And ouer and 
 beside all this boke," says he " I will aduise him to 
 rise betime in tlie morning, according to the verse be- 
 fore spoke of, Sariat, sanctifcat, et ditat siirgcre ?nane, 
 and to go about his closes, pastures, fieldes, and spe- 
 cially by the hedges, and to haue in his purse a payre 
 of tables, and whan he seeth any thing, that wolde be 
 amended, to wryte it in his tables ; as if he fynde any 
 horses, mares, bcastes, shepe, swyne, or geese, in his 
 pastures, that be not his owne : and perauventure 
 thoughe they be his owne, he wolde not haue them to 
 goo there, or to fynde a gap, or a sherde in his hedge, or 
 
 any water standynge in his pastures uppon his grassc, 
 wherby he may take double hurte, bothe losse of his 
 grasse, and rotting of his shepe and calues. And also 
 of standynge water in his corne fieldes, at the landes 
 endes or sydes, and howc lie wold haue his landes 
 plowed, donged, slurred, or sowen ; and his corne wed- 
 cd or shorne, or his cattell shifted out of one pasture 
 into another; and to loke what dyching, quicsettyng, or 
 plashhig, is necessary to be had ; and to ouersee his 
 shepeherd, how he handleth and ordreth his shepe, and 
 his seruantes howe they plowe and do theyr warkes ; 
 or if any gate be broken down, or want any staues, and 
 go not lyglilly to open and tyne, and that it do not traise, 
 and that the windes blowe it not open with many mo 
 necessary thynges that are to be loked upon. For a 
 iiian alwaye wanderyngc or goinge aboute somewhat, 
 fyndeth or seeth that is amysse, and wolde be amended. 
 And as soone as he seeth any suchc defautes, than let 
 hym take oute his tables, and wrile the defautes. And 
 whan he commeth home to diner, supper, or at nyght, 
 than let hym call his bayly, or his heed seruante, and soo 
 shewe hym the defautes, that they may be shortly 
 amended. And whan it is amended, than let him put it 
 out of his tables. For tnis used I to doo x or xi yeres 
 and more ; and tlAis let hym use dayely, and in shorte 
 space he shall sctte moche thynges in good order, but 
 dayely it wyll haue mendynge. And yf he canne not 
 wryte, lette him nycke the defautes vppon a stycke, and 
 to shewe his bayely, as I sayde before. Also take hede, 
 bothe erly and late, at all tyrnes, what maner of people 
 resoite and comme to thy house, and the cause of theyr 
 commynge, and specially if tney brynge with them 
 pytchers, Cannes, tancardes, bottelles, bagges, wallettes, 
 or bushell pokes; for, if thy seruauntes be not true, 
 they maye doo thee great hurte, and them selfe lyttel 
 auauntage ; wherfore they would be well loked vppon. 
 And he that hath ii true seruauntes, a man seruaunte, 
 and an other a woman seruauuLe, he hath a great trea- 
 sure ; for a trewe seruaunte wyl do justly hym self, 
 and if he se his felowes do amysse, he wyl byd them 
 do no more so, for, if they do, he wyll shewe his master 
 therof ; and if he do not this, he is not a trewe ser- 
 uant." 
 
 An hundred years, however, elapsed, after the publi- 
 cation of sir Anthony Fitzherbert's book, before any 
 thing further appeared really deserving the attention of 
 husbandmen. During the commonwealth, a period 
 favourable to genius and enterprise, and when numbers 
 of persons appeared upon the stage of life, whose names 
 would never have been heard of had not sucli a change 
 of government occurred, Walter Blythe, Gabriel Plattes, 
 and other enlightened men, illustrated the art of hus- 
 bandry in the most satisfactory manner. BIylhc's writ- 
 ings, in particular, contain a great deal of sound sense, 
 and not badly' expressed, on almost every branch of 
 husbandry. The first part of his Im/irover Improved, 
 published 1652, contains what he calls six pieces of im- 
 provement: 1. On floating and watering land; 2. On 
 draining fen and boggy land, and regaining land from the 
 sea; 3. (hi such enclosures as prevent depopulation, 
 and advance all interests; 4. On tillage of land kept too 
 long in grass, and pasturing others destroyed with 
 ploughing ; 5. Discovery of all sorts and composts, 
 with their nature and use; 6. On doubling the growth 
 of wood by new plantations.— The second part contains 
 six newer pieces of improvement : 1. On the husbandry 
 of clover and St Foyn ; 2. On lessening the charge and
 
 208 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 builhen ol" the plcugli, >vith divers figures ihtrcof; 3. 
 On planting wild woud and niaddcr; 4. On planting hops, 
 saffron, andliciuoricc ; 5. On planting of rapt-, coleseed, 
 hemp and flax, and the prolil thereof; 6. On the great 
 advance of land by divers orchard and garden fruits. 
 Bating the dedication to my Lord Protector, and other 
 public bodies, the whole of the Improver Im/iroxicd {now 
 become a scarce book,) might be reprinted with mani- 
 fest advantage. Blythe's principles, which are very 
 correct, will be ascertained by perusing the first chapter 
 of his fourth Piece of Improvement, wherein he directs 
 how to plough and crop old pasture land. 
 
 In this chapter, Mr BIythc shows, in forcible terms, 
 the immense benefit which would accrue to the country 
 from breaking up old pasture lands, and proves, in a 
 satisfactory mannei', that constant pasturage is highly 
 detrimental to the interest of proprietors and occupiers. 
 His sentiments are correct and very applicable to the 
 rural system of many English counties at the present 
 day. It applies, in fact, to the husbandry of all the mid- 
 land counties, and, generally speaking, to the whole of 
 England, the counties of Northumberland, Norfolk, 
 Suffolk, Essex, and Kent excepted. In the last men- 
 tioned counties, old pasturage, except in situations con- 
 tiguous to the houses of gentlemen, is not frequent, 
 though, in a few instances, alternate husbandry, or 
 changing from grass to corn, and vice versa, may not be 
 regularly followed. 
 
 Blythe seems to have entertained correct views of the 
 benefits accompanying alternate husbandry, and demon- 
 strates, in strong language, the numerous advantages of 
 such a system. In fact, all sour, rushy, or clay soils 
 should be frequently broken up by the plough, and ex- 
 posed to atmospherical influence. Grasses upon such 
 soils thrive best at first, and gradtially fall oft' in after 
 seasons. To keep soils of these descriptions constantly 
 in grass, is therefore detrimental to the ptiblic interest, 
 because produce of every kind is thereby greatly lessen- 
 ed. Were such fields renovated by tillage, and, after 
 being cropped five or six years, sown down with grass 
 seeds, along with a crop of grain upon land that had been 
 siunmer fallowed, incalculable advantages would follow 
 both to the public and individuals. 
 
 On the other hand, Mr Blythe appears to have pos- 
 sessed just views of the evils flowing from over plough- 
 ing, or, in other words, from keeping land constantly 
 under tillage, a system too prevalent, even now, in many 
 linglish counties. In his time, as well as at present, a 
 very large portion of English soil was regularly subject- 
 ed to the plough, and of course was worn out and ex- 
 hausted by constant tUlage. A system of this nature 
 has prevailed upon the open and common lands of Eng- 
 land since the days of William the- Conqueror, and 
 must remain in force till some strong measure is adopted 
 by the legislature of the country capable of putting an 
 end to it. In short, the losses sustained from constant 
 pasturage of a great part of the soil, and constant tillage 
 of another great part, were as correctly ascertained and 
 described by Blythe as by any of our modern, and, ap- 
 parently, more enlightened writers. 
 
 After the restoration, various improvements were 
 brought to England by refugees, who had resided on the 
 continent during the government of the commonwealth. 
 It has been generally understood, that sir Richard Wes- 
 ton, one of these refugees, introduced clover; but it is 
 certain that this valuable variety of grass was sown in 
 England before that period ; for Blythe treats both of it 
 
 and St Foyn in a systematic manner. It is more likely 
 that turnips were then first cultivated; because BIythc 
 does not say a word concerning this valuable csculciil, 
 the introductioit of which occasioned almost a total 
 change in the English agricultural system of treating 
 light soils. 
 
 Before clover and turnips were cultivated on a great 
 scale, the husbandry of Britain was necessarily imper- 
 fect. The scourging crops much exceeded the melio- 
 rating ones; of course the produce of the ground was 
 considerably inferior in quantity to what it is now, and a 
 great loss was sustained by the public from not receiving; 
 through the whole year a regular supply of butcher 
 meat, with which they are now fortunately provided. 
 Another circumstance, which accompanied the old sys- 
 tem, was, that light soils could rarely be cleaned without 
 suffering them to be unproductive for a year, when they 
 were summer fallowed : whereas since turnips were in- 
 troduced, these light soils are much more effectually 
 cleaned than fomierly, whilst a valuable crop is obtain- 
 ed in the same year. Summer fallow has long been ex- 
 tensively practised in England, and at this day perhaps 
 more so than is necessary, especially upon common field 
 land, as will be more particularly noticed in another 
 place. With all fields held in severalty, the introduction 
 of clover and turnips has proved of singular advantage, 
 no6 only in a private, but also in a public point of view. 
 A judicious rotation of cropping may therefore be exer- 
 cised, insomuch that one culmiferous crop may not 
 follow another, which could not formerly be avoided, 
 whilst the culture of leguminous crops enriches the, 
 soil, increases the stock of manure for rendering it pro- 
 ductive, and furnishes the means of supplying the mar- 
 kets with fat cattle and sheep through every month of 
 the year. 
 
 The improvement of the English rural system was 
 in some degree promoted by the exertions of Jethro 
 Tull, an inventive genius, who possessed more imagi- 
 nation than solid sense to direct it. By him the drilling 
 or row system of husbandry was brought into practice ; 
 and so eager was he in its support, that he altogether 
 neglected to take into account the impracticability of 
 executing it in numberless situations. But the strongest 
 proof, that the imagination of Tull was more brilliant 
 than his judgment was profound, may be gathered from 
 his hostility to manures, and from his always substitut- 
 ing additional tillage in their place. The doctrines of 
 Tull were, however, like those of every plausible theo- 
 rist, adopted by several people ; and, to a certain extent^ 
 are even fashionable at this day. The utility, nay, the 
 necessity of manures, is now acknowledged by every 
 person ; but his plan of drilling every kind of grain 
 continues to be supported, though it is demonstrable that 
 this inode of sowing is chiefly applicable to leguminous 
 crops ; and is only in a few soils and situations practica- 
 ble with culmiferous ones. 
 
 The plan of cultivating the fields in the same regular 
 manner which is followed in garden husbandry, is no 
 doubt very desirable, did circumstances suffer it to be 
 executed ; but we are apprehensive that physical impe- 
 diments are in the way of such a plan, which will not 
 easily be removed. These shall be noticed in the sec- 
 tion where Drill-Husbandry is treated of 
 
 Little farther alteration in the rural economy of 
 England occurred, except in the superior attention 
 bestowed on live-stock, by Mr Bakewell and others, 
 till the establishment of the national Board of Agri-
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 20 i^ 
 
 cuiuire, when a general desire seized all ranks to pro- 
 mote internal improvements. Harllib, a century and 
 a half before, and lord Kames, in his Gentleman 
 Farmer, had pointed out the utility of such an esta- 
 blishment; but it was left to sir John Sinclair to 
 cany their ideas into execution. To the unwearied 
 endeavours of sir John arc the public indebted for 
 this admirable institution, which has certainly done 
 much good, and may still do a great deal more. Two 
 advantages, among many, may be mentioned : 1st, A 
 great number of new men were brought forward by the 
 Board, whose names otherwise would probably never 
 have been heard of; and these being chiefly practical 
 people, who were professionally concerned in farm- 
 management, agriculture, by their endeavours, was 
 rescued from the hands of theorists, and a revolution of 
 no small extent accomplished in rural affairs : 2dly, Be- 
 fore the Board was instituted, the bond of connexion 
 amongst agriculturists was slender, and served few 
 useful purposes. Each trusted to his own information, 
 and knew little more about the practices of contermin- 
 ous districts, than those of China or the most distant 
 countries. The establishment of the Board reinoved at 
 once all these evils and difficulties. A common fortress, 
 erected for the benefit of all agriculturists, and to 
 which each might resort for advice and protection, was 
 immediately recognised. It made farmers, who resided 
 in the most distant quarters of the kingdom, acquainted 
 with one another ; and caused a rapid dissemination of 
 knowledge amongst the whole profession. The art of 
 agriculture was brought into fashion ; old practices were 
 amended; new ones introduced, and a degree of exer- 
 tion manifested which had never before been exemplified 
 in this island. 
 
 But the numerous agricultural surveys, executed un- 
 der the authority of the Board, were of singular advan- 
 tage also, because they brought to light the practice of 
 every county; andj while they pointed out the obstacles 
 which lay in the way of improvement, they stated the 
 most effectual methods of removing them. The very 
 collision of argument which such discussions occasion- 
 ed, incited agriculturists to investigate the principles 
 of the art which they professed, and induced theni to 
 search after new channels of improvement. 
 
 That the first measure adopted by the Board, name- 
 ly, a general survey of the island, was a useful one, has 
 l)een acknowledged by every person ; but doubts have 
 been entertained by many, concerning the utility of seve- 
 ral subsequent measures, which deserve some consi- 
 deration. It has been urged, and with some degree of 
 justice, that the endeavours of a public Board should be 
 limited to such objects as exceed the powers of an indi- 
 vidual to accomplish ; and that a Board, composed of 
 materials like the present one, ought not to interfere 
 with the minutijE or practice of farming ; but leave these 
 matters entirely to the management or direction of per- 
 sons by whom the art is exercised. Under these^ im- 
 pressions, it has been stated, that the Board were dis- 
 charging their duty, when they recommended to par- 
 liament a division of common and waste land ; and, in 
 like manner, that their efforts woidd constantly be of ad- 
 vantage, when directed to a removal of obstructions to 
 improvenrent, which required legislative interference. 
 A recommendation from a public Board carries a weight 
 along with it, ensuring a degree of success not to be 
 obtained by the petition or complaint of one or two in- 
 dividuals. Hence the propriety of originating, at the 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 Board of Agriculture, a^ll laws and regulations influen- 
 cing or operating upon rural economy, because the mem- 
 bers of the Board may reasonably be supposed to pos- 
 sess a degree of knowledge in rural science, rendering 
 them sufficiently qualified to j<ulge of, and determine 
 upon, the measures to be adopted. 
 
 But, on the other hand, it has been urged, that the 
 practice of husbandry ought not to be included in their 
 deliberations; and that every thing of that kind may 
 safely be left to professional people, who are morally 
 and physically better qualified to investigate and ascer- 
 tain what is right to be executed. It has been further 
 urged, that when a Board of Trade acted in this coun- 
 try, its measures were confined to the great and leading 
 objects of commerce, without descending to minutiae, 
 or interfering with the business of individuals. In short, 
 it has been supposed almost as preposterous for the 
 Board of Agriculture to meddle with ploughing, sowing, 
 planting potatoes, building cottages. Sec. 8cc. as it would 
 have been for the Board of Trade to issue directions to 
 apprentices concerning the best way of folding and ty- 
 ing parcels. Though inclined to think that there is 
 some weight in the arguments urged, we adhere to the 
 opinion already given, that much good has been done 
 by the Board, and that a great deal more may still be 
 accomplished. The scantuiess of their funds, however, 
 is a reproach to the nation, and calls loudly for additional 
 aid to such a meritorious establishment. If the gene- 
 rous spirit which animated the Persian kings had per- 
 vaded our rulers, when the Board was established, or 
 even had the latter estimated agriculture as of the same 
 value as it was appreciated by the former, a complaint 
 of this kind would have been superfluous. At the an- 
 nual festival in April each year, in honour of agriculture, 
 the Persian king was in use to address the farmers to 
 the following effect : " I am one of you. My subsistence, 
 and that of my people, rests on the labour of your hands ; 
 the succession of the race of man depends on the plough, 
 and without you we cannot exist. But your dependence 
 upon me is reciprocal. We ought therefore to be bro- 
 thers, and live in perpetual harmony." 
 
 We now come to this northern part of the island, 
 where husbandry was long unknown, and still longer im- 
 perfectly exercised. There is sufficient evidence, that 
 husbandry was introduced into Britain at the south-east 
 corner, and travelled, by slow and gradual steps, to 
 other quarters ; but it is diflicult to trace the progress of 
 the art, or to discover how far it had advanced when 
 this island was evacuated by the Romans. When Seve- 
 rus invaded Scotland, A. D. 207, we are told "that the 
 Mareatae and Caledonians, who possessed all the island 
 beyond Hadrian's Wall, inhabited barren uncultivated 
 mountains, or desert marshy plains ; that they had nei- 
 ther towns nor cultivated lands, but lived on the milk 
 and flesh of their flocks and herds, on what they got by 
 plunder, or catched by hunting, and on the fruit of trees." 
 These barbarous nations, however, being obliged by 
 Severus to yield up a part of their country to the Ro- 
 mans, that industrious people, in the course of the third 
 century, built several towns and stations, constructed 
 highways, cut down woods, drained marshes, and intro- 
 duced agriculture into the districts south of the Frith of 
 Forth, which are generally well calculated for tillage. 
 Though the Romans never formed any lasting station 
 north of the Forth, yet many of them and of the provin- 
 cial Britons, retired into Caledonia at different times, 
 particularly about the end of the third century, to escape 
 Dd
 
 210 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 from the Dioclesian persecution. It is probable these 
 refugees instructed the natives ; and as the eastern coast 
 of Caledonia was also well adapted for cultivation, there 
 is little doul)t but that the Pictish nation, who inhabited 
 it, were early initiated into the art of agriculture. Even 
 the Caledonians of the west, who in the fourth century 
 began to be called Scots, were not altogether ignorant oi 
 husbandry in this period ; for St Jerom reproaches Ce- 
 lestius, who was a Scotchman, "That his belly was 
 swelled or distended with Scots pottage, or hasty-pud- 
 ding." This is at least a proof, that, in the beginning 
 of the fifth century, the Scots, or western Caledonians, 
 lived partly on oat-meal, a kind of food to which they 
 had been absolute strangers about two hundred years 
 before, when invaded by the emperor Scverus. 
 
 Till the reign of Malcolm Canmore, in the eleventh 
 century, the progress of husbandry was very slow ; but 
 during his reign, a greater degree of attention was paid 
 to the cultivation of the country. This increased atten- 
 tion arose from the number of Anglo-Saxons who mi- 
 grated at that time into Scotland, by whose endeavours 
 the face of the country was changed from that of a bar- 
 ren wilderness, to that of a well regulated and cultivated 
 territory. During the twelfth and tliirteentli centuries, 
 the lowlands of Scotland were improved considerably, 
 and their inhabitants were prosperous and happy. As 
 a proof of their internal prosperity, it was in these cen- 
 turies that all the religious houses were erected ; and it 
 is plain, that before any nation can be munificently pious, 
 it must be flourishing and rich. In these periods the 
 greatest part of our modern towns and villages were 
 also built; and it was then that the people began to be 
 civilized, and society to assume something of its present 
 shape. Circumstances, however, soon occurred, which 
 blasted, and in a manner destroyed, all these fair pros- 
 pects ; and Scotland, from continuing flourishing and 
 prosperous, was so completely wasted by civil broils 
 and foreign wars, that the efforts of the people, during 
 the four succeeding centuries, were scarcely sufficient to 
 restore matters to their former footing. 
 
 These civil broils originated in a contested succession 
 to the crown, wherein the parties in the first instance 
 were nearly matched ; but afterwards, by the interference 
 of Edward of England, tlie scale was turned, and, as 
 generally happens in such cases, the country was brought 
 under the dominion of a foreign invader. The death of 
 Alexander III. in 1286, was the source of all these evils. 
 It occasioned a contest concerning the succession be- 
 tween John Baliol and Robert Bruce, which almost 
 ruined Scotland, and ultimately brought destruction 
 upon the followers of Baliol, and those who adhered to 
 Edward of England, who claimed the sovereignty as lord 
 paramount of the country. This contest, which lasted 
 for many years, stopped the growing prosperity of the 
 country, occasioned the towns and villages to be de- 
 stroyed, turned the people's attention from internal im- 
 provement to resisting external attacks, and rendered 
 them as barbarous and uncivilized, as they were before 
 the days of Malcolm Canmore. The baneful conse- 
 quences which flowed from a disputed succession, were 
 hardly overcome, when England and Scotland were 
 united under the government of one sovereign ; nor did 
 they altogether disappear till the middle of the 1 8th cen- 
 tury. Before that time the internal improvement of the 
 country was neglected and overlooked, whilst the great 
 bulk of the inhabitants continued in an abject and mise- 
 rable state, imperfectly fed, destitute of other comforts, 
 
 withoat the means of improvement, and altogether in a 
 situation which can hardly be described even at the pre- 
 sent moment, when all these circumstances are complete* 
 ly reversed. 
 
 Without insisting upon these points, it may only be ad- 
 ded, that the large armies brought into the field by the 
 partisans of Baliol and Bruce, chiefly drawn from the 
 low-country districts, furnish incontestable proof, that 
 the population of the country was at that time numerous. 
 Now, as population and food must always go hand in 
 hand, or, speaking more correctly, food must always 
 precede population ; a sure evidence of agricultural pros- 
 perity at the end of tlie 1 3th century is tiiencc furnished. 
 Indeed, independent of abstract reasoning, we have con- 
 clusive proof of the flourishing state of agriculture in 
 Scotland from other sources. According to Heming- 
 ford, a writer of no mean authority, it appears that the 
 English army, when besieging the castle of Dirleton, in 
 East Lothian, A. D. 1299, subsisted upon the pease and 
 beans growing in the adjoining fields. Every agricul- 
 turist knows well, that these grahis cannot be success- 
 fully cultivated, till husbandry has reached a pretty ad- 
 vanced state ; and therefore it may be presumed, that the 
 agriculture of the district alluded to, was at that period 
 very much improved. But another circumstance, still 
 more decisive, may be gleaned from the wardrobe ac- 
 count of Edward I.; wherein it appears, that when that 
 monarch invaded Galloway in 1300, he purchased and 
 exported from Kirkcudbright to Whitehaven, and other 
 parts of Cumberland, greater cjuantities of wheat than 
 perhaps the modem agriculture of that province could 
 supply at the present day. 
 
 But the most precise and correct account of Scottish 
 agriculture, during the Anglo-Saxon government, or 
 from the reign of Edgar, who mounted the throne in 
 1097, to the decease of Alexander III. 1286 may be 
 found in Mr Chalmers' Caledonia, recently published, 
 wherein the most diligent research is displayed, and 
 every statement supported by respectable authorities. 
 The authorities cited by Mr Chalmers are numerous 
 and decisive. Without trusting to former writers, who 
 rarely took the trouble to ascertain the truth of what 
 was asserted, this gentleman sedulously consulted the 
 ancient records, both of public bodies and private indi- 
 viduals, and has thereby thrown a light upon the ancient 
 history of this country, sufficiently bright to illuminate 
 the dark periods which he treated of, and enlighten the 
 people of the present day, respecting the former state of 
 their native countiy, and the progress of agriculture, 
 and other useful arts. 
 
 According to Mr Chalmers, agriculture, during the 
 period of the Anglo-Saxon dynasty, was the universal 
 object of pursuit, from the prince to the peasant. The 
 king possessed manors in every shire, and managed and 
 cultivated them by thanes, or bailiff's. The nobles fol- 
 lowed the king's example, and had many manors in their 
 proper demesne. The bishops and abbots emulated the 
 nobles, in the extent of their possessions, and the great- 
 ness of their husbandry establishments; and next to the 
 kings, they may be considered as the greatest farmers 
 of these times. At that period, wool and skins were 
 the only articles of foreign traffic, the export commodi- 
 ties of Scotland, as happens with every country in a state 
 of commercial infancy, being confined within a very li- 
 mited sphere. 
 
 At the period under consideration, the great body of 
 cultivators were bondmen and vilayiis, rather than free-
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 211 
 
 men and farmers, not having any property of tlicir own. 
 But many free tenants were also settled in tlic agricul- 
 tural villages, who paid services to their lords ; and many 
 cottars, who, besides helping to cultivate the ground, 
 followed some domestic trade, and yielded much assist- 
 ance to their superiors. When the kings and barons, 
 the bishops and abbots, began to emancipate t/wir men, 
 leases were first granted, not only of the land itself, but 
 also of the stock employed in its cultivation. The stock, 
 which thus accommodated both parties, was called the 
 Steelboiv ; in other words, it was a stock which was to 
 be restored to the proprietor at a future period, in the 
 same value and condition as when it was leased. It is 
 understood, that William the Lion, and Alexander II., 
 made various regulations for promoting agriculture, and 
 securing the rights of those employed in carrying it on ; 
 butof these matters it is difficult to speak with any pre- 
 cision. It has been asserted with more confidence than 
 knowledge, that Scotland was formerly wholly naked, 
 and destitute of woods ; whereas there is every sort of 
 proof, that nearly the whole of the country, in ancient 
 times, was covered with timber trees. The numerous 
 mosses of Scotland were originally so many woods, 
 which is evident from the number of trees dug up in 
 them, and from other circumstances handed down both 
 by traditionary and written authority. The black and 
 barren moors, which now disfigure the face of the coun- 
 try, were formerly clothed with woods, and furnished 
 useful timber, and excellent pasturage. Oak appears, 
 in those times, to have been the wood of most general 
 use. The bridges, the castles, the churches, and the 
 towns, were built with this sort of timber. The waste 
 made in the course of different wars, added to the quan- 
 tity used for domestic purposes, lessened the extent of 
 woodland ; and as no steps were taken to supply the 
 vacancies which daily occurred, the whole, or nearly the 
 whole, was, in the course of time, consumed and ex- 
 hausted. There are, in the old maps of Scotland, many 
 names of places derived from woods, of which the 
 slightest trace or information cannot now be gained. In 
 the chartularies, numerous notices of forests are given 
 in counties where a single tree is not now to be seen. 
 
 The lawless habits which too generally prevailed dur- 
 ing the Anglo-Saxon dynasty, made it necessary for the 
 people to live in collected bodies; in villages and ham- 
 lets, rather than in farms, so that their mutual comfort 
 and security might be preserved. To each of these vil- 
 lages was annexed a district of land, which was cultiva- 
 ted by husbandmen and their cottagers, in different pro- 
 portions. The pasture-lands, and the wood-lands, were 
 enjoyed in common; each of the villagers having a right 
 of pasturage for a certain number of domestic animals, 
 according to the extent of arable land possessed within 
 the territory. These villages were of diiferent sizes, 
 according to the size of the estate upon which they were 
 situated, and the fertility of the adjoining lands. Some 
 of them had a church, others a mill, all of them had 
 malt-kilns, and brew-houses, as may be distinctly ob- 
 served from a perusal of the ancient chartularies. 
 
 Whatever disadvantages attended the practice of 
 agriculture in those days, husbandmen enjoyed many 
 benefits, which fanners at this time c?nnot expect to pos- 
 sess. The vast wood-lands, which skirted arable ground 
 on all sides, gave a shelter to the com crops, that greatly 
 promoted their growth, and augmented their produce. 
 While the wood-lands served to shelter the country, 
 they also furnished pasturage for numerous herds of 
 
 cattle, and of course rendered the condition of husband- 
 men comfortable and advantageous. In fact, the wood- 
 land not only contributed to increase the produce of ara- 
 ble ground, but also to rear and maintain a larger num- 
 ber of swine, cattle, and horses, than will easily be be- 
 lieved under the prejudices of modern times. 
 
 Scotland at that time produced all the kinds of grain 
 cultivated in the present day, though, perhaps,, in differ- 
 ent proportions than those which are supplied liy modern 
 husbandry. Oats were cultivated in a much greater, 
 and barley in a much smaller proportion than at present. 
 Oats were chiefly used by the lower orders, furnishing 
 both meat and drink to them. Much of this grain was 
 malted and afterwards brewed, as was also part of the 
 barley. The consumption of ale was immense, as may 
 be seen from the number of malting and brewing houses 
 in every part of the country. Wheat was also cultivated 
 to a great extent in all the south and east counties; 
 even in Galloway, as already noticed, this grain appears 
 to have been raised in considerable quantities. Pease 
 and beans were only raised in particular situations. Be- 
 sides corn, little else was produced in the fields. Lint 
 was certainly cultivated at the time we are treating of, 
 because it is known to have paid tythe in the twelfth 
 century. Though artificial grasses were not then intro- 
 duced, yet the natural meadows and forests supplied 
 much grass for making hay, as we learn from the char- 
 tularies. 
 
 In the early ages of Scottish history, cheese was an 
 article manufactured in great abundance ; and as the 
 people lived much on animal food, the herds of black 
 cattle were consumed at home, while their hides formed 
 a considerable article of export to foreign countries. 
 Sheep were then numerous in every district, and wool 
 and skins were great objects of agricultural revenue. 
 Goats were also kept in many places, and swine were 
 reared in great numbers by every husbandman, from the 
 highest to the lowest. Poultry also was an object of at- 
 tention. — Under Malcolm IV., the monks of Scone re- 
 ceived from every plough-land which belonged to them, 
 no fewer than ten liens at the feast of All Saints, — a bur- 
 den which at this time would be considered as intolera- 
 bly oppressive by any husbandman. 
 
 Many of our readers may be desirous to learn some- 
 thing of the value of land, at the period we are treating 
 of. During the reign of Alexander II., a meadow at 
 Farnlngdun, containing nine acres, was sold l)y Richard 
 Burnard, to the monks at Melrose, for thirty-five marks. 
 In 1225, Adam de Stowel sold to Ermengard, the queen- 
 dowager, the lands of Balmerinoch, Ardln,andCultrath, 
 for one thousand merks, legal sterluigs. From these 
 instances it may be inferred, that land was plenty, and 
 money scarce. The ordinary circulating medium be- 
 twhit buyers and sellers, was then little known in Scot- 
 land, the greatest part of trade being carried on by bar- 
 ter, as has uniformly taken place in every nation, before 
 trade and manufactures are introduced. 
 
 In these early ages, the dwellings of the Scottish peo- 
 ple were both mean and inconvenient. The kings, no- 
 bles, and bishops, dwelt in castles, built with a view to 
 the protection of those who resided in them ; while the 
 lesser barons lived in square towers, constructed more 
 for defence than comfort. The hovels of the lower 
 ranks were generally slight erections of twigs or turf, 
 and may be considered merely as temporary accommo- 
 dations, seeing that they were so frequently laid waste 
 and destroyed by foreign war and intestine divisions. 
 D d 2
 
 212 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 Even houses in towns were chielly built with wood ; 
 hence followed the dreadful devastations in those pe- 
 riods. The cathedrals and abbeys, however, were struc- 
 tures of great labour and expense, as may be perceived 
 on contemplating their ruins. The strongholds built in 
 Scotland by the Anglo-Normans and Flemings, were so 
 firmly cemented with lime, as to appear in many instances 
 like solid rocks. Indeed it is often easier to dig stones 
 in a quarry, than to procure them from these ancient 
 buildings ; hence many of them have been suffered to 
 remain monuments of past greatness, which would have 
 been demolished and taken down, had not the expense 
 of the task exceeded the value of the materials which 
 would have been ac(iuired from their destruction. 
 
 The towns gradually increased in their population and 
 trade during the Scoto-Saxon period. A comparison 
 betwixt their state and condition in the twelfth century 
 on the one hand, and in the fifteenth on the other, would 
 evince their gradual progress. In the twelfth century, 
 the revenue drawn from the towns was inconsiderable.; 
 but during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, many 
 annuities and pensions were granted by the Scottish 
 kings to their children and favourites, out of the mails 
 of the burghs, and custom of their parts, both of which 
 had greatly increased during these ages, notwithstand- 
 ing that adversity and happiness alternately prevailed. 
 The towns, however, even in the fifteenth century, were 
 but hamlets compared with those of the present times, 
 when industry has invigorated and enriched the inhabit- 
 ants, and stimulated all ranks to provide more comfort- 
 able accommodation. 
 
 It may be remarked, that though the people, generally 
 speaking, were but indifferently lodged, yet they were 
 upon tlie whole well fed, except in those years of dearth 
 and famine, which so often recurred in ancient times. 
 In the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries, the 
 lower classes enjoyed a larger proportion of animal food 
 than they do at present; whilst their chief beverage was 
 beer and ale, brewed from the malt of oats. In these 
 times, cattle, sheep, swine, and poultry, were raised in 
 abundance, and mostly consumed at home ; whereas in 
 our day, from the increase of population, these articles 
 are chiefly consumed in towns, inodern prices exceeding 
 the means of purchase in the hands of the country la- 
 bourer. The quantity of malt groiuid at the mills, and 
 the mmiber of breweries in every part of the country, 
 attest the great quantities of ale made and consumed. 
 None of the malt was manufactured into ardent spirits; 
 but alehouses in the different villages were so early as 
 the reign of David I., under the regulation of assize, 
 which is an evidence, that their numbers were great, 
 and that the consumption of ale was extensive in these 
 primitive periods. 
 
 During the Scoto-Saxon period, the kings were the 
 greatest improvers of land, and afforded every degree 
 of encouragement to those who forwarded the rural im- 
 provement of the country. This is attested by the char- 
 tularies. The barons partially followed their example, 
 but the monks were the most skilful and diligent im- 
 provers. Being mostly brought from England, and 
 other countries, they possessed more knowledge of rural 
 matters than the native inhabitants, and having greater 
 capital, and enjoying more quiet, they were naturally 
 better fitted and disposed for agricultural exertions. 
 They brought waste lands into an arable state, subdued 
 wood-lands, made enclosures, and practised drainage,-— 
 improvements much wanted in the then state of the 
 
 country. Possessing the teind, or tenth sheaf of the 
 crop ill many cases, the quantity of manure made on 
 their lands was necessaiily increased, and this increase 
 of itself, independent of the knowledge and capital which 
 they undoubtedly pohsesscd, was sufficient to bring about 
 a material change in the value of all lands, held by the 
 regular and irregular clergy of Scotland, at the period 
 under consideration. 
 
 From what we have stated, it may be inferred, that 
 the rural economy of Scotland, at the end of the 13th 
 century, was in a rapid state of improvement, especially 
 in the low country districts to the south of the river 
 Forth. It must, however, be remarked, that little of that 
 improvement was owing to the Celtic natives, nearly the 
 whole of it being attributable to those foreigners, intro- 
 duced by the Scoto-Saxon kings. From the reign of 
 Edgar to the conclusion of the Saxon dynasty, nume- 
 rous bodies of Anglo-Saxons, Anglo-Normans, and Fle- 
 mings, settled in Scotland, and, from the generosity of 
 the several monarchs, acquired vast possessions in many 
 districts. Edgar, the first of the Saxon dynasty, forced 
 his way to the throne by the decisive aid of an English 
 army, and afterwards gradually brought in a new people, 
 whose polity was widely difterent from that of the abo- 
 riginal inhabitants. Alexander I., who married an Eng- 
 lish princess, likewise encouraged settlers of that na- 
 tion ; but the reign of David I. was most propitious to 
 adventurers from foreign countries. That prmce, hav- 
 ing married an English countess, who had numerous 
 vassals, was attended to the throne, in 1 124, by a thou- 
 sand Anglo-Normans, to whom he distributed extensive 
 landed possessions, and otherwise afi'orded protection 
 and encouragement. 
 
 Numerous colonies of Flemings also settled in Scot- 
 land, and from this stock several of the first families of 
 tlie country have sprung. The Celtic people had their 
 hamlets, to which they gave descriptive names in their 
 own language ; but when the Anglo-Normans were in- 
 troduced, their first object was to build a strong-hold or 
 castle, around which the followers of the chief settled, 
 and thus formed a village, and in some cases a town ; in 
 which practice they were much encouraged by the seve- 
 ral sovereigns, who wished to bridle and restrain the 
 ferocity of the natives. The policy of the Scotch kings, 
 during the Saxon dynasty, prompted the building of cas- 
 tles in every place where a convenient site occurred; and 
 it was under the protection of these strong-holds, that 
 towns arose, and industry began her career. Such a 
 system of policy, however, was viewed by the aborigines 
 with indignation. Insurrections were often raised, and 
 attempts made to burn and destroy the towns that were 
 erected, and to lay waste the lands which belonged to 
 the inhabitants. After the capture of king William, in 
 1174, when anarchy prevailed for some time, the new 
 settlers fled to the king's castles for shelter; and such 
 had been the progress of colonization, that the towns and 
 boroughs of Scotland were, at that period, chiefly inha- 
 bited by foreigners. 
 
 A policy of a different kind, but equally beneficial, 
 contributed much to the improvement of the country. 
 The erection of such a number of religious houses, in 
 the twelfth century, was attended with salutary effects ; 
 because the monks were di-awn from England and fo- 
 reign countries, and of course brought along with them 
 the arts exercised in these countries, to the great bene- 
 fit of the kingdom in which they now settled. These 
 ecclesiastics had their dependents, to whom they grant-
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 213 
 
 ed parcels of land on tlie condition of service ; and it 
 must be confessed, that the church lands were the first 
 that were improved, and in such a substantial way, that 
 many of them to this day continue to yield more produc- 
 tive crops than the lands tlien in the hands ot the liarons, 
 though at first sight there may appear no difierence in 
 their natural value. The monks brought along with 
 them many craftsmen or artisans from foreign coun- 
 tries, and in this way tlie settling of every religious 
 house may be considered as the plantation of a new co- 
 lony of the Teutonic race amidst the Celtic inhabitants 
 of North Britain. 
 
 The Succession War gave a shock to tlie prosperity 
 of Scotland, from which it had not altogether recover- 
 ed, when the whole island was incorporated under one 
 government. Were there the smallest doubt respect- 
 ing the consequence of the wars, which, with short in- 
 termissions, prevailed from the end of the thirteenth to 
 the middle of the fourteenth century, it might be re- 
 moved by a reference to the two valuations, called the 
 Old and New Extent, in which full evidence is disclosed 
 concerning the deterioration or waste which had taken 
 place in North Britain. The old extent, taken in the 
 reign of William the Lion, is nearly double the sum 
 returned under the new extent made up in 1369, after 
 the capture of David Bruce. But this difference of va- 
 lue will excite no surprise, when it is considered that 
 the business of the inhabitants had been chiefly restrict- 
 ed to fighting and destroying one another, and to burn- 
 ing and plundeiing, instead of meliorating and enriching 
 the country. The same conduct repeated in our day 
 would lead to similar consequences ; for internal im- 
 provement is incompatible with a state of warfare. Few 
 countries of Europe were more prosperous and happy 
 than Scotland at the death of Alexander III. and few 
 have suffered more calamities than devolved on that 
 kingdom by his premature decease. The long and inve- 
 terate hostilities which followed, wasted the opulence 
 of the country, and entailed a degree of penury on its 
 inhabitants, which has only of late been completely sur- 
 mounted. 
 
 During the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, rural 
 economy continued to languish, especially upon the 
 estates of the barons, where the profession of a soldier 
 was regarded as of greater importance than that of a 
 cultivator of the ground ; but the ecclesiastical lands 
 were considerably improved, and (he tenants of them 
 were generally much more comfortable and happy than 
 those upon the estates of laymen. The reformation of 
 religion, beneficent as it was in other respects, rather 
 checked than promoted agricultural improvement ; be- 
 cause the change of property, which then occurred, oc- 
 casioned a similar change of tenantry, and almost took 
 husbandry out of the hands of the only class of people 
 by whom it was practised upon correct principles. The 
 dissolution of the monasteries and other religious houses, 
 ■was also attended by religious consequences in the first 
 instance ; though latterly the greatest benefit has been 
 derived from tythes and church lands having come into 
 the hands of laymen. It is probable, had not these cir- 
 cumstances occurred, that the tythe system would have 
 still remained in force, and Scottish husbandry have 
 continued under a burden, which sinks and oppresses 
 the cultivator of the sister country. But tythes having 
 got into the hands of lay titulars, or impropriators, were 
 in general collected or farmed with such severity as to 
 occasion the most grievous complaints, not only from 
 
 the tenantry, but also from the numerous class of pro- 
 prietors, who had not been so fortunate as to procure 
 a share of the general spoil. This, added to the desire 
 shown by the crown, to resume the grants made when 
 its power was comparatively feeble, occasioned the 
 celebrated submission to Charles I., which ended in a 
 settlement, that in modern times has proved highly bene- 
 ficial, not only to the interest of proprietors, but like- 
 wise to the improvement of the nation. Tythes in fact 
 are a l)urden, which to all intents and purposes operate 
 as a tax upon industry, though it was a long time be- 
 fore the beneficial consequences of withdrawing them 
 were fully understood, or even discerned in this coun- 
 try.^ 
 
 The accession of James to the crown of England, is 
 understood to have been unfavourable to the agricultural 
 interest of Scotland ; inasmuch as the nobles and gentry 
 being by that event led into great expenses, raised the 
 rents of the tenantry considerably, whilst the very cir- 
 cumstance which occasioned the rise, contributed to 
 lessen the means of the tenant for fulfilling his engage- 
 ments. Scotland, however, was much benefited by the 
 soldiers of Cromwell, who were chiefly English yeomen, 
 not only well acquainted with husbandry, but, like the 
 Romans at a former period, studious also to improve and 
 enlighten the nation which they had subdued. The 
 soldiers of Cromwell's army were regularly paid at the 
 rate of 8(/. per day, a sum equal at least to the money 
 value of two shillings our currency ; and as this army 
 lay in Scotland for many years, there was a great circu- 
 lation of money through the country. Perhaps the low 
 country districts were at that time in a higher state of 
 improvement than at any period since the demise of 
 Alexander III. The improvement then introduced, does 
 not altogether rest upon conjecture, but is supported by 
 many facts. In the counties of Lanark, Renfrew, Ayr, 
 and Kirkcudbright, the rentals of various estates were 
 greater in 1660 than they were 70 years afterw'ards ; and 
 the causes which brought about a declension in value 
 are ascertained without difficulty. The large fines ex- 
 acted from country gentlemen and tenants in these coun- 
 ties, during the reigns of Charles II. and his brother 
 James, were almost sufficient to impoverish both proprie- 
 tors and cultivators, had they even been as wealthy as 
 they are at the present day.. In addition to those fines, 
 the dreadful imprisonments, and other oppressive mea- 
 sures pursued by those in power, equally contrary to 
 sound policy and to justice and humanity, desolated 
 large tracts, drove the oppressed gentry, and many of 
 their wealthy tenants, into foreign countries, and extin- 
 guished the spirit of industry and improvement in the 
 breasts of those who were left behind. A succession 
 of bad seasons soon after the revolution, heightened 
 these calamities. It is well known, that innumerable 
 farms at that period remained unoccupied ; proprietors 
 having to search after tenants, w!io were able to stock 
 and cultivate the ground, with almost the same assiduity 
 that must now be displayed by tenants who are out of 
 possession. 
 
 It would be unpardonable to omit noticing the active 
 efforts of a Society, formed in 1723 for the improvement 
 of agriculture, consisting of the principal noblemen and 
 gentlemen of Scotland, who continued their labours for 
 more than twenty years, greatly to their own credit, and 
 to (lie public benefit. Of this we have sufficient evidence 
 from a volume of their Transactions, published in 1743 
 by Mr Maxwell of Arkland, under the auspices of the
 
 i2U 
 
 AGHICULTURE. 
 
 celebrated Mr Hope of Rankcillor, one of the most in- 
 Iclligent gentlemen of that period. The dedication to 
 that vohniic shows sometlung of the state of Scotland at 
 that period, and proves that the endeavours of the nu- 
 merous members of the Society were of immense bene- 
 fit to the improvement of the country. In fact, the seed 
 was at that time sown ; and though the soil, in which it 
 was deposited, was of a sterile nature, yet an abundant 
 ci'op was in due time reaped. 
 
 The most active and indefatigable member of that So- 
 ciety was Mr Hope of Rankcillor. This patriotic and 
 well informed gentleman had, at an early period, studied 
 agriculture, not only in England, but also m several 
 foreign countries ; and being enthusiastically fond of this 
 primitive art, he lost no opportunity of communicating 
 his knowledge, not only to his brethren of the Society, 
 but also to every other person who took the trouble of 
 soliciting information. It is well known that the mea- 
 dow walks of Edinburgh were designed and laid out by 
 this distinguished personage. The Meadows, originally 
 a morass, and called Straiton's Loch, were held by him, 
 upon a lease, from the city of Edinburgh ; and upon them 
 he executed improvements which excited the wonder 
 and admiration of his contemporaries. At that period 
 the situation of Edinburgh was very different from what 
 it is at present. Bounded by the North Loch, then a 
 sheet of water, and obstructed from all communication 
 with the north, except by Leith Wynd and the West 
 Church, the citizens could not take a walk, or breathe 
 the fresh air, without being put to considerable incon- 
 venience. Moved by these circumstances, Mr Hope 
 projected the walks upon the south side of the city, and 
 actually superintended their execution. These walks, 
 at that time crowded by multitudes, are now in a manner 
 deserted in favour of other places of public resort; but 
 this circumstance does not lessen the merits of Mr 
 Hope's benevolent and patriotic endeavours to serve 
 the public. In short, Mr Hope was one of those public- 
 spirited men who rarely appear. He was gifted by na- 
 ture with a well informed mind, and constantly exerted 
 himself to promote rural improvement, justly consider- 
 ing it as the true source of national prosperity. 
 
 The endeavours of Mr Hope were warmly seconded 
 by the dukes of Hamilton and Athole, lords Stair, 
 Hopeton, Islay, and other members of the Edinburgh 
 Society. Indeed the condition of Scotland at that time 
 called for the utmost exertion of all its proprietors. 
 Agriculture was in the most languid and feeble state. 
 Occupiers of the ground were generally destitute of capi- 
 tal stock for carrying on improvements, and few of them 
 were qualified for introducing them with success, even 
 had the means been within their reach. Trades and 
 manufactures were then in their infancy, and money was 
 such a scarce article, that the circulating medium of the 
 two Edinburgh banks, whose capital was below 200,000/., 
 ■was quite sufTjcient for every useful purpose. Under 
 these circumstances, the situation of Scottish agricul- 
 ture, when this patriotic Society commenced their pro- 
 ceedings, may be easily ascertained. In short, rents 
 were low, and the people were poor, being imperfectly 
 fed, badly clothed, and often without employment. If 
 the picture is brought forward, and made to include the 
 state of the country at the period we are now writing, 
 it will at once be discerned, that a complete alteration 
 has taken place in all tliese circumstances ; and though 
 it would be going too far, to place the whole alteration 
 to the creditor the Edinburgh Society, yet a dotibt can- 
 
 not be entertained concerning the utility of their mea- 
 sures, or the efl'ects which followed them. 
 
 But the merits of another individual, who was a mem- 
 ber of the Edinburgh Society, cannot be passed over on 
 this occasion. This individual is John Cockburn, Esq. 
 heritable proprietor of the lands of Ormiston, in the 
 county of Haddington, who is descended from a family 
 known for many ages to be firm friends to the liberty of 
 the subject, and always disposed to promote every mea- 
 sure which had for its object the improvement of Uie 
 country. 
 
 John Cockburn, Esq. of Ormiston, was born in the 
 year 1685, and was the eldest son of Adam Cockburn of 
 Ormiston, Justice Clerk of Scotland during the reigns 
 of king William and queen Anne. Mr Cockburn, with 
 the estate of Ormiston, inherited a large portion of gen- 
 uine patriotism, and warmly supported the Hanoverian 
 succession, considering that family as well disposed to 
 promote constitutional freedom. During his father's 
 lifetime, he sat as a member of the last Scottish parlia- 
 ment, in which England and Scotland were united under 
 one government, and took an active part in all the pro- 
 ceedings which happily terminated in connecting North 
 and South Britain in the closest bond of union. After- 
 wards he was successively elected from 1707 to 1741 to 
 represent the county of Haddington in the British Par- 
 liament, and for many years occupied the office of a 
 lord of the admiralty, which, of course, occasioned 
 him to reside much in England, and to become intimately 
 acquainted with the rural practices of our southern 
 neighbours. Though the low country districts of Scot- 
 land are at this day equally as well improved and cultiva- 
 ted as any of the English counties, yet their state was 
 very different at the period under consideration. Lord 
 Kames, that excellent judge of mankind, and sound 
 agriculturist, declares, in strong terms, that the tenantry 
 of Scotland, at the end of the seventeenth and beginning 
 of the eighteenth century, were so benumbed with op- 
 pression or poverty, that the most able instructerin hus- 
 bandry would have made nothing of them. Fletcher of 
 Salton, a contemporary of Mr Cockburn, describes their 
 situation as truly deplorable. In fact, many farms re- 
 mained unoccupied ; even tenants rarely accepted of lea- 
 ses, at least, they were shy, and unwilling to accept them 
 forany considerable numberof years ; hence improvement 
 of every kind was totally neglected, and the general po- 
 verty of the tenantry necessarily occasioned landed pro- 
 perty to be of little value ; because, while rents were 
 trifling, they were also ill paid, which of course placed 
 many proprietors in something like a state of mendicity. 
 
 At the beginning of last century, the tenantry of Scot- 
 land, those of a few fertile spots excepted, were nearly 
 ruined by the calamitous seasons which had previously 
 occurred. Capital stock was thereby wrested from them, 
 and proprietors, generally speaking, were still too proud, 
 perhaps too ignorant, to interest themselves about the 
 amelioration of their own domains. The qualities sup- 
 posed to compose the character of a feudal chieftain arc 
 badly calculated for promoting internal improvement ; 
 and it may be remarked, that feudalism has been gra- 
 dually undermined, in proportion as improvements hare 
 been introduced. Such sentiments seem to have influ- 
 enced Mr Cockburn ; for all his words, all his actions, 
 were dictated by a spirit which wished to increase the 
 prosperity of the middling ranks. In fact, the middling 
 ranks are the strength and support of every nation. In 
 former times, what we now call middle classes were nc?
 
 AGRICULTUIIE. 
 
 215 
 
 Jinown, or at least little known, in this country ; hence 
 the feudal system reigned longer in Scotland than in Eng- 
 land. After trade was introduced, and agriculture im- 
 proved, the feudal system was necessarily overturned, 
 and proprietors, like other men, came to be estimated 
 accorduig to their respective merits, without receiving 
 support from the adventitious circumstances under which 
 they were placed. 
 
 When Mr Cockburn succeeded to the estate of Or- 
 miston in 1714, the art of agriculture was imperfectly 
 understood, and the condition of the tenantry was so 
 reduced, that it could not be expected to see improve- 
 ments undertaken unless the strongest encouragement 
 was previously held out. This was done by Mr Cock- 
 burn, even in his father's lifetime. As Robert Wight, 
 one of the Orniiston tenants, had early shown an un- 
 common spirit to enter into Mr Cockburn's views, being 
 probably the first farmer in Scotland who enclosed by 
 ditch and hedge, and planted hedge-row trees on his own 
 proper charge, he was singled out for favour, and in 
 171s received a lease of the Murrays, or Muirhouse 
 farm, of an uncommon long endurance. The lease was 
 for 58 years, and the rent 750/. Scottish money; but 
 upon paying a fine or grassum of 1200/^ Scots, at the 
 expiration of that term, a renewal of the lease was to be 
 granted for 19 years more, and so on from 19 to 19 
 years in all time coming. The two subscribing wit- 
 nesses to the deed were sir John Inglis of Cramond, 
 Bart., and John Hepburn, Esq. of Humbie, gentlemen 
 invited on the occasion by Mr Cockburn, in order that 
 his example might animate them with the like liberal 
 and patriotic desire to improve the agriculture of their 
 respective properties. 
 
 Alexander Wight, eldest son of Robert above named, 
 possessed the house of Muir farm by tacit relocation 
 till 1725, at which period, agreeably to the plan adopted 
 for encouraging substantial improvements, a lease was 
 granted to him for 38 years, and three lives therein 
 named. This tenant, like his father, having entered 
 warmly into Mr Cockburn's measures, got that lease 
 cancelled in 1734, when a new one was granted for 19 
 years, renewable for every 19 years in all time coming, 
 upon payment of a fine equal to one year's rent of the 
 premises. These were leading examples to Scottish 
 landlords, and held out to other tenants of the estate a 
 noble encouragement to undertake improvements, see- 
 ing that tlieir benevolent landlord was so ready to re- 
 ward them. 
 
 In this way the foundation of Scottish improvement 
 was laid, by granting long lenses. Many people at this 
 time may think, that such a length of lease was unne- 
 cessary, and that the distinguished personage of whom 
 we are speaking, might have accomplished his object, 
 by granting leases of a more limited endurance. We 
 would request such persons to reflect upon the state of 
 the country, and the actual condition of the tenantry at 
 the period under consideration. We ought not to judge 
 of the propriety of measures then employed, to intro- 
 duce and encourage improvement according to the rules 
 of the present day, when tenants possess knowledge and 
 capital sufficient for carrying through the most difficult 
 and arduous undertakings. Let it also be remembered, 
 that both knowledge and capital were the undoubted 
 result of the ameliorated system then introduced. Mr 
 Cockburn laid the first stone of the system ; his brethren 
 in different quarters assisted in rearing the fabric, 
 though perhaps their aid was not in one instance so mu- 
 
 nificent. The success which accompanied it, served, 
 however, to convince almost the whole landholders of 
 Scotland, that the surest way of extending improve- 
 ments was to give the tenantry an interest in their ac- 
 complishment. Hence the bond of connexion betwixt 
 proprietors and tenants in Scotland is formed upon more 
 liberal principles than prevail in any other country with 
 which we are acquainted. No man in Scotland, at least 
 very few men, will enter to the possession of land unless 
 the security of a lease is previously granted ; and pro- 
 prietors in general are so sensible of the benefit of that 
 tenure, that few of them refuse to grant it for such a 
 number of years as both parties may consider best 
 adapted to the system of management meant to be exer- 
 cised. 
 
 Notwithstanding that few improvements were intro- 
 duced during the seventeenth century, several legisla- 
 tive enactments were then made, which latterly have 
 produced much benefit to agriculture. Independent of 
 the regulation of tythes, a measure of primary import- 
 ance to husbandmen, the laws relative to the enclosing 
 of land, and the division of mixed possessions, may be 
 ranked as peculiarly calculated to excite improvement, 
 in so far as the trouble of accomplishing these objects 
 was greatly lessened, whilst precise rules were laid 
 down, by which these improvements might be carried 
 into effect. In these branches of rural legislation, Scot- 
 tish practice holds out a judicious pattern for the imita- 
 tion of our southern neighbours, who are confessedly 
 behind in every one of them, and, in fact, cannot take a 
 single step without the aid of the legislature. Want 
 of capital stock was the greatest impediment to Scottish 
 agriculture ; but this was partly removed by the rebel- 
 lion of 17-15, when vast sums of money were poured 
 uito the country ; and, since that period, the husbandry 
 of Scotland has progressively improved, in such a man- 
 ner as to bear comparison, local circumstances consider- 
 ed, with that of any country in Europe. Even the legal 
 abrogation of the feudal system, by passing the Juris- 
 diction Act, was of material advantage, in so far as the 
 security of cultivators was thus increased, and their si- 
 tuation rendered infinitely more independent than in 
 former times. Since the conclusion of the American 
 war in 1782, improvement has proceeded with singular 
 rapidity in every district; and while the rental rolls of 
 proprietors have been doubled, tripled, and quadrupled, 
 the condition of the tenantry, and of the lower ranks, 
 has been amelioi-ated almost in a proportional degree. 
 These circumstances are sure tokens of agricultural 
 prosperity, and demonstrate, in the most forcible terms, 
 that husbandry is a main pillar of the state ; and that the 
 happiness and welfare of the community depends great- 
 ly upon the manner in which the art is executed. No 
 nation, whose husbandry is feeble and imperfect, can be 
 regarded as really prosperous, however considerable be 
 the advances which they have made in other arts; he- 
 cause, when the art of raising food is neglected, all 
 others must ultimately be forsaken. In short, to pro- 
 mote and encourage husbandry, to remove every obsta- 
 cle that stands hi the way of exercising it, and to secure 
 those concerned in carrying on the art, are duties obli- 
 gatory upon the government of every country ; and ac- 
 cording as these duties.are discharged, so will the wis- 
 dom of such a government be estimated bv every man. 
 who feels for the prosperity of the state, or is attentive 
 to the sources from which that prosperity proceeds. 
 Having thus given a concise historv of agri<;ultiirej
 
 216 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 from such materials as were within our reach, we shall 
 proceed to investigate the tiicory and practice ol' the art. 
 Strictly speaking, the art of agriculture is confined to 
 the cultivation of the earth, and does not include several 
 other branches of work, which appertain to the general 
 situation of husbandmen ; but, in a work of this kind, it 
 may be proper to consider agriculture in a more exten- 
 sive sense, and to embrace every subject connected with 
 rural economy, or which serves to promote or impede 
 agricultural improvement. To cultivate the soil, in a 
 sufficient manner, is certainly a primary object with the 
 agriculturist; but other objects etiually claim his at- 
 tention, as by neglecting them the primary object may 
 be imperfectly obtained. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 On the Theory of Agriculture. 
 
 Though agriculture is an art which has been carried 
 on from the earliest ages, by a greater number of peo- 
 ple than are concerned in any other, yet, even at this 
 advanced period, the agriculturist may, in some mea- 
 sure, be viewed as remaining without any fixed princi- 
 ples, for governing his mind and regulating his piactice. 
 Instead of resorting to practice, and thence forming a 
 satisfactory theory, writers on agriculture have, in num- 
 berless instances, amused themselves, without instruct- 
 ing their readers, by presenting opinions purely specu- 
 lative, upon this important subject; not reflecting, that 
 every kind of theory, which is not built upon extensive 
 practice and observation, is preposterous and absurd. 
 According to the mode adopted by these gentlemen, he, 
 who argues most ingeniously, must necessarily be re- 
 ceived as coming nearest to the truth, and his doctrine 
 be considered as the standard, till some competitor ap- 
 pears, whose eloquence is more persuasive, and whose 
 opinions are more plausible. This has been the fate of 
 all speculative opinions, since the earliest ages ; and will 
 continue to be so upon every subject, where no certain 
 data can be found to direct the research of inquirers. 
 For instance, how numerous and diversified are the 
 sentiments of theorists concerning the food of plants; 
 a subject not to be comprehended by the human mind 
 in its present state, and upon which the wisest of men 
 have done little more than display their presumption and 
 their ignorance. It is a certain fact, that the most acute 
 philosopher can no more account for the germination of 
 a single grain of corn, than he can explain the mysteri- 
 ous manner in which he enjoys rational existence. With- 
 out therefore stopping to inquire, whether fire, or air, 
 or water, or earth, constitute tlie food of plants, or no- 
 ticing the numberless hypotheses that have been pre- 
 sented on that abstruse topic, it may be remarked, that 
 the dullest farmer knows sufficiently, that if he cleans, 
 and drains, and manures his land in a proper manner, it 
 will yield him as good a crop as the soil is constitution- 
 ally capable of producing, provided physical circum- 
 stances, such as heavy rains, excessive droughts, furi- 
 ous winds, and similar evils, do not intervene and pre- 
 vent nature from performing her usual functions, and 
 returning a crop equal to the trouble and expense be- 
 stowed in cidtivating it. Allowing for a moment, that 
 we were able to ascertain, whicl^of the above elements 
 constitute the food of plants, the question Ctti bono ? 
 still remains to be answered. As we have neither the 
 command of fire, air, or water, nor can order the sun to 
 display his beams, the air to blow genial gales, or the 
 
 clouds to drop refreshing showers, little benefit would 
 accrue were even the curtain of nature withdrawn, and 
 our eyes allowed to roam at large over a field, whicli 
 'may justly be considered as forbidden to man. Under 
 these impressions, we are disposed to consider disquisi- 
 tions, respcctuig the food of plants, and even concern- 
 ing the principles of vegetation, as quiic foreign to a 
 treatise on agriculture. The operative farmer could not 
 thereby be benefited in the smallest degree, nor would 
 any part ot his practice be illustrated or improved. 
 Perhaps, on the contrary, he might be led out of the 
 rigiit path into the vortex of delusion, and induced to 
 forsake that system of practice which is sanctioned by 
 experience, and which ought to be his only guide in such 
 disquisitions. 
 
 Notwithstanding that such are our sentiments on what 
 has been erroneously called the theory of agriculture, 
 yet we are inclined to believe, that a degree of certainty 
 is already attained, concerning the real and efficient 
 theory of the art, sufficient either to guide or to deter- 
 mine the conduct of those engaged in carrying it on. 
 If the earth is enriched by generous manures, or sti- 
 mulated by powerful cordials, as circumstances may re- 
 quire ; if it is laid dry, or drained of superfluous water; 
 if the soil is sufficiently cultivated, and its aboriginal in- 
 habitants, namely (jukkens, and all other weeds, remov- 
 ed ; and if, in naked and exposed situations, shelter is 
 afforded, by making enclosures, then every thing, that 
 man is capable of doing to forward the productive powers 
 of the earth, is completely executed. Here the true 
 theory of agriculture is to be found; and a due know- 
 ledge of these practices, carried properly into execu- 
 tion, distinguishes the good farmer from the bad. In 
 short, the man who is governed by these principles, may 
 be pronoimced to possess more knowledge of the art 
 than the most scientific agriculturist. The one acts 
 upon principles which never can fail, and which uni- 
 formly lead to the same issue ; the other is guided by 
 no certain principle whatever, but led by an ignis 
 fatiius, whose delusions may draw him into bogs and 
 quagmires, where he may flounder for a while, and at 
 last be ruined and made miserable, both in fortune and 
 reputation. 
 
 The theory of agriculture, which we lay down, is 
 therefore built upon the following fundamental prin- 
 ciples ; and with one or other of them eveiy part of 
 rural practice is more or less connected : — First, That 
 the soil ought to be kept dry ; or, in other words, free 
 of all superfluous moisture. Secondly, That it ought to 
 be kept clean ; or, in other words, free of noxious weeds. 
 Thirdly, That it ought to be kept rich ; or, in other 
 words, that every particle of manure, which can be col- 
 lected, ought to be applied, so that the soil may be kept 
 in a state capable of yielding good crops. Every per- 
 son, possessed of a sufficient capital stock, may act ac- 
 cording to the first and second principles ; but it is 
 only where local circumstances are favourable, that the 
 last can be carried completely into effect. No more, 
 however, being required of the farmer, than tliat he 
 shall make the most of his situation, the principle ap- 
 plies equally to all ; and, in like manner, is equally cor- 
 rect and beneficial in all situations and circumstances. 
 
 Holding these principles in view, and assuming them 
 as the basis of what is meant to be inculcated, we pro- 
 ceed to illustrate them in a more particular manner. 
 
 In the first place, the utility, nay the necessity, of 
 keeping land dry, and preserving it from being inun-
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 217 
 
 iatcd or flooded wkW water, is so obvious, that few ar- 
 guiuems will be required in supporl oi' this primary 
 prineiple. When land is allowctl to remain in a state of 
 wetness, which may either be occasioned by spouts, or 
 springs, in the under soil, or by rain-water stagnating 
 on the surface, the earth gets into a sour state, which 
 afterwards is detrimental to the growth of plants ; and 
 often, in the first instance, prevents either ploughing or 
 harrowing from being successfully effected. Under 
 such circumstances, the young plants, either of corn or 
 grass, get yellow and sickly, and never assume that 
 vigorous thriving aspect, which they maintain upon 
 fields diftercntly circumstanced. Besides, manure Ivas 
 not the same effect when the earth is drowned, or even 
 injured with wetness, as when it is kept dry and free 
 from superfluous moisture. Under-draining is the only 
 niethotl of correcting the evils arising from spouts, or 
 springs, as will afterwards be more distinctly stated, and 
 digging out the head-land, and what are provincially cal- 
 lecl gau-furroiusi the only preventive against surface-wa- 
 ter, when heavy falls of rain or snow storms ensue. In 
 fact, without attention to these important operations, 
 arable land can neither 1)C perfectly managed, nor full 
 crops reaped. Perhaps, the goodness or badness of 
 farm-management may be as correctly estimated by the 
 attention shown to drainage, as by any other mark what- 
 ever. Where drainage is neglected, a sure proof is 
 furnished, that many other branches of the art are im- 
 perfectly executed. Unless this branch of rural eco- 
 nomy is assiduously attended to, the advantages arising 
 from ploughing and manuring are only partially ob- 
 tained. 
 
 In the second place, the benefit arising from keeping 
 the land clean is sufficiently discernible. Weeds, wheth- 
 er of the aimual or perennial sorts, may be regarded 
 as preferable creditors of the soil, who will reap the 
 first advantage of manure, if allowed to remain in pos- 
 session : their removal therefore forms an important 
 object of the husbandman's attention. Without detail- 
 ing, in this place, the most suitable means of removing 
 them, it may be stated, that, according to the degree of 
 success, that follows the means employed, so will the 
 goodness or badness of the husbandman's crops be re- 
 gulated. If the strength, or nutritive powers, of the 
 soil be exhausted or drawn forth by weeds, or such 
 plants as the soil naturally produces, it is impossible 
 that artificial plants can prosper. It rarely happens, to 
 be sure, that the aborigines are altogether extirpated ; 
 but upon the smallness of their number depends the re- 
 turn which the soil can make to man, for the labour be- 
 stowed upon its cultivation. 
 
 In the third place, the necessity of restoring to the 
 soil, in the shape of manure, the powers drawn irom it 
 by artificial crops, is acknowledged by almost every 
 person. No doubt, some heretical opinions have, at 
 different limes, been broached, concerning the utility of 
 feeduig land by generous manures ; but these never had 
 many votaries, and ?.re now become so obsolete, that it 
 would only be a waste of time to notice them. Manure, 
 in fact, is the most powerful agent in the hands of the 
 farmer, and the attention bestowed upon collecting, pre- 
 paring, and applying it, constitutes an important branch 
 of the art, which he practises. Perhaps agriculturists 
 are more behind, in the points connected with this tliird 
 general principle, than in the others ; and here the uti- 
 lity of chemical knowledge may, in some respects, be 
 estimated and recognised. 
 
 Vol. I. Pakt I. 
 
 These three fundamental principles hang or fall to- 
 gether. Without laying land dry, neither the advanta- 
 ges of good ploughing, nor the benefits arising from 
 manure, can be huly oblainetl. When any of the other 
 principles are neglected, similar defects will necessarily 
 ensue. But when they are all acted upon ; when the 
 land is kept dry, clean, and in good heart, the husband- 
 man may expect a suitable reward for tbc trouble and 
 expense bestowed on its cullivation. An agricultural 
 code of this khid is nut only a truit one, but has the par- 
 ticular meritof being simple and distinct; nay, it has an 
 advantage which few creeds possess ; it may be under- 
 stood by the dullest capacity. \Vere it carried into ex- 
 ecution, were the operations of farmers regulated by its 
 tenets, were their eiuleavo\irs constantly directed to keep 
 the lands in their possession dry and clean, and as rich as 
 possible, then the country would be progressively im- 
 proved. In a word, these arc the fundamental princi- 
 ples of agriculture, though several other things, such 
 as rotations of crops and the like, may be regarded as 
 minor or inferior ones. All of them however, are de- 
 pendent upon the principles already noticed, because 
 were the fundamental principles neglected, the minor 
 or dependent ones could never be successfully carried 
 into execution. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 On Soils. 
 Sect. I. 
 
 Soil, strictly speaking, is the ground or earth wherein 
 crops of every kind are produced ; and we notice it in 
 this way, merely to distinguish the surface from the 
 under stratum or subsoil on which the surface is iiT=- 
 cumbent. The value or worth of that part of the earth-, 
 which is the object of cultivation, depends materially 
 upon the nature of the under stratum ; because, when 
 the latter is close or extremely retentive of moisture; 
 the expense and hazard of cultivating the surface is 
 considerably increased, wliiist the growth of plants cul- 
 tivated upon it is much abridged and impeded,. particu-- 
 larly in adverse seasons. 
 
 The nomenclature of agriculturists, with regard to 
 soils, being variable and indistinct, it is a difficult task 
 to describe them, or to mark with any degree of accuracy 
 the shades which distinguish one from another, so 
 nearly arc many of them connected. Cienerally speak- 
 ing, the component parts of soil, whatever may be the 
 colour, are argill, sand, water, and air ; for into these 
 original principles may all earths be reduced, however 
 blended with apparently foreign substances. Argill is 
 the soft and unctuous part of clay. The primitive 
 earths, argill ami sand, contain each, perhaps in nearly 
 equal degrees, the food of plants ; but in tlieir union the 
 purposes of vegetation are most completely answered. 
 The precise quantities of each necessary to make this 
 union perfect, and whether they ought to be equal, it 
 is neither very easy nor very material to ascertain, since 
 that point is best determined in practice, when the soil 
 proves to be neither too stiff' or adhesive, from the 
 super-abundance of clay, nor of too \oo'-.e and weak a 
 texture, from an over t|uantity of sand in its composi- 
 tion. The medium is vmdoubtedly best; but an excess 
 towards adhesion is obviously most safe. A stiff or 
 strong soil holds the water which falls upon it for a long 
 time, and, being capable of much ploughing, is natu- 
 
 E e
 
 218 
 
 AGRICULTUUE. 
 
 rally well cjuuliiiid for canying tlic inosL valuable ara- 
 ble crops. A lij;lit soil, or one of a texture feeble and 
 easily broken, is, on the contrary, soon exliauslcd by 
 araiion, and requires renovation by grass ; otherwise it 
 cannot be cultivated to advantage. 
 
 Dr VV. Dickson, in his excellent treatise on agricul- 
 ture, says, with much truth, that the soils of this coun- 
 try have been described under numerous heads, and 
 particularized by an useless variety of vague local terms. 
 According to him, however, they may be considered and 
 characterized, as far at least as is necessary for practi- 
 cal purposes, under the distinctions of Clayey, Loamy, 
 Chalky, Sandy, Gravelly, and Peaty or Mossy. Each 
 of these diversities of course comprehends several 
 varieties, according to the nature and preponderance 
 of the different sorts of materials of which they are 
 composed. 
 
 Other writers speak of a soil which they call garden 
 moulds liiit this, being entirely of artificial creation, 
 ought not to be ranked amongst the natural or origi- 
 nal soils. 
 
 In a work of this kind, it may be proper to arrange 
 British soils into four different classes, namely clay, 
 sand, gravel, and peat earth ; as to one or other of these 
 classes each of the numerous varieties in the British 
 isles is allied, though in many cases the degree of 
 affinity is not easily ascertained. Loam has generally 
 been considered as an original earth, though we are dis- 
 posed to view it as an artificial soil, produced by calca- 
 reous matters, and animal and vegetable maimrcs. The 
 strongest clay may, in process of time, be converted 
 into a loam, by repeated applications of these substances ; 
 and the richness or freeness of that loam will depend 
 entirely upon the quantity of manure with which it has 
 been supplied. Sandy soils may also be converted into 
 light loams, by the application of lime, chalk, marl, and 
 especially clay. Even peat may be converted into a 
 black soft loam, and in various ways rendered fertile 
 and productive. From these circumstances, a degree 
 of confusion prevails respecting the nature and proper- 
 ties of soils, which renders the subject more difficult 
 than at first sight might be expected. Even the admix- 
 ture of surface and subsoil, by deep ploughing, creates a 
 change of considerable magnitude. 
 
 A clay soil, though distinguished by the colour which 
 it bears, namely black, white, yellow, and red, differs 
 from all other soils, being tough, wet, and cold, and con- 
 sequently requiring a good deal of labour from the hus- 
 bandman before it can be sufficiently pulverized, or 
 placed in a fit state for bearing artificial crops of corn 
 or grass. Clay land is known by these qualities, or 
 properties. It holds water like a cup, and once wet- 
 ted does not soon dry. In like manner, when thoroughly 
 dry, it is not soon wetted; if we except the varieties 
 which have a thin surface, and are the worst of all to 
 manage. In a dry summer, clay cracks, and shows a 
 surface full of small chinks, or openings. If ploughed 
 in a wet state, it sticks to the plough like mortar, and 
 in a dry summer the plough turns it up in great clods, 
 scarcely to be broken or separated by the heaviest 
 roller. 
 
 Sandy soils next come under consideration. Soils of 
 this description arc managed with infinitely less trouble 
 and at an expense greatly inferior to what clays re- 
 quire ; but at the same time, the crops produced from 
 them are generally of smaller value. There are many 
 varieties of sand, however, as well as of clay ; and in 
 
 some parts of the ialand, the surface is little better thai* 
 a bare barren sand, wherein artificial plants will not 
 take root, unless a dose of clay or good earth is pre- 
 viously admuiistered. This is not the soil meant by the 
 farmei- when he speaks of sands. To speak practically, 
 the soil meant is one wliere sand is predominant, 
 altliough there be several other earths in the mixture. 
 From containing a great quantity ol sand, these soils 
 are all loose and crumbling, and never get into a clod, 
 even in the driest weather. This is the great article 
 of distinction betwixt sands and sandy loams. A sandy 
 loam, owing to the clay that is in it, does not crumble 
 down, or become loose like a real sand, but retains a 
 degree of adhesion after wetness or drought, notwith- 
 standing the quantity of sand that is mixed with it. 
 Perhaps a true sandy loam, incumbent upon a sound 
 subsoil, is the most valuable oi all soils. Upon such, 
 every kind ot grain may be raised with advantage, and 
 no soil is better calculated for turnips and grass. 
 
 The real sands are not favourable to tiie growth of 
 wheat, unless when preceded by clover, which binds 
 the surface, and confers a temporary strength for sus- 
 taining that grain. Much of the county of Norfolk is 
 of ihis description ; and it is well known that few dis- 
 tricts of the kingdom yield a greater quantity of pro- 
 duce. Till Norfolk, however, was invigorated by clay and 
 marl, nearly one half of it was little better than waste ; 
 but by the success which accompanied the use of these 
 auxiliaries, anew soil was in a manner created ; which, 
 by a continuation of judicious management, has given a 
 degree of fame to the husbandry of that county, far 
 surpassing that of other districts naturally more fer- 
 tile. 
 
 We have now to speak of gravelly soils. The open 
 porous nature of these soils disposes them to imbibe 
 moisture, and to part with it with great facility ; from 
 the latter of which circumstances they are subject to 
 burn, as it is termed in dry seasons. The main diflTer- 
 ence between gravel and sand is, that the former is 
 chiefly composed of small soft stones ; though, in some 
 instances, the stones are of the silicious or flinty nature, 
 and, in others, of the calcareous and chalky. From 
 these constitutional circumstances arises the propriety 
 of deepening gravelly soils by coats of marl or earth, 
 and of keeping them fresh by frequent returns of grass, 
 and repeated applications of manure. Gravelly soils, 
 from the lightness of their texture, are not expensive or 
 difficult in the means of cultivation. All the necessary 
 business required for gravels may be carried forward 
 with ease and expedition ; and such soils are, in general, 
 soon brought into a proper state for the reception of 
 crops. 
 
 From what is said respecting gravels, it will appear, 
 that naturally they are barren, unless when mixed with 
 other earths ; and that the surface of most of them 
 would exhibit the same appearance as the subsoil, or 
 what is beyond the reach of the plough, were it not 
 changed and meliorated by vegetable matters. The 
 constitutional qualities of gravels also point out the pro- 
 priety of ploughing them deep, so that the surface soil 
 may be augmented and greater room given to the 
 growth of the plants cultivated on them. A shallow- 
 ploughed gravel can stand no excess of weather, how- 
 ever enriched by manure. It is burnt up by a day or 
 two of drought, and it is almost equally injured by an 
 excessive fall of rain, unless the pan or firm bottom, 
 which such soils easily gain, be frequently broken
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 219 
 
 through by deep ploughing. According to an old adage, 
 the top of clay, and bottom of gravel, arc best ; but 
 though we cannot subscribe to the first part of the adage, 
 being satisfied that deep ploughing is higiily beneficial, 
 except where the subsoil is of a poisonous nature, we 
 are certain that the latter is well founded, and ought 
 never to be overiooked. 
 
 Peat earth, or inoss, is the next kind of soil whicli we 
 have to treat of ; though we are very uncertain whether, 
 like loam and garden mould, it ought not to be viewed 
 as an artificial soil, made and produced by certain sub- 
 stances deposited on the surlace of the earth, and not 
 one originally created, or to be found in the early ages. 
 On these pomts philosophers ar^ much at variance ; and 
 the discordant opinions entertained by them, induce us 
 to think, that very little real knowledge of the nature and 
 properties of moss has hitherto been acquired. By one 
 we are told, tliat peat is a primitive earth, of autediluviaji 
 origin; by another, that it is a vegetable, which grows 
 and increases, and may contume to increase, till it swal- 
 lows up and destroys all otlier soils : by another, that it 
 consists of ligneous and aquatic plants, brought into ac- 
 tion by the destruction of cxiensive forests, which 
 abounded in Europe in former times ; these forests 
 havuig been either destroyed by the Romans, or by tem- 
 pests, or having fallen into decay from natural causes. 
 We are much inclined to adopt this last hypothesis, as 
 it seems supported by the appearance which peat moss 
 presents ; by facts which may be gathered from the his- 
 tory of Britain; and, in particular, by the state and con- 
 dition of the very places where peat moss is now the pre- 
 dominant soil. It is truly wonderful, that so little is 
 known on a subject of so much importance, not only to 
 the prosperity of Britain, but even to that of the world. 
 Moss covers, perhaps, one fourth of the habitable globe ; 
 and surely few subjects better deserve consideration, 
 than its removal, or improvement. We have lately re- 
 ceived much uiformation concerning the origin of moss, 
 from some essays published by the -everend Mr Rennie 
 at Kilsyth ; and we indulge a hope, that when these es- 
 says are finished, the public will have in their possession 
 more satisfactory accounts concerning the formation 
 of moss, and the uses, to which it may be applied, than 
 have hitherto been offered by the several writers who 
 have attempted to investigate the origin of moss, and to 
 illustrate the means of removing it. 
 
 Sect. II. 
 
 On the Uses to nvhich each Soil may be most advantage- 
 ountij aji/iited. 
 
 Clay soils, when sufficiently enriched with manures, 
 are naturally well qualified for carrying crops of wheat, 
 oats, beans, and clover ; but are not fitted for barley, 
 turnips, potatoes. Sec. or even for being kept under grass 
 longer than one year. Perhaps such soils ought to be 
 regularly summer-fallowed once in six, or at the most 
 once in eight years, even when they are comparatively 
 in a clean state, as they contract a sourness and adhesion 
 from wet ploughing, only to be removed by exposure to 
 the sun and wind during the diy months of summer. 
 Soils of this kind receive little benefit from winter 
 ploughing, unless so far as their surface is thereby pre- 
 sented to the frost, which mellows and reduces them in 
 a manner infinitely superior to what could be accom- 
 plished by all the operations of man. Still they are 
 
 not cleaned or made free of weeds by winter ploughing ; 
 and therefore this opoiation can only be considered as 
 a good mean for pioinring a seed-bed, in which the 
 seeds of the future crop may l)e salely deposited. Hence 
 the necessity of cleaning clay soils during the summer 
 months, and of having always a large part of every clay 
 farm under summer lallow. All clay soils reciuire great 
 industry and care, as well as a considerable portion of 
 knowledge in the dressing or management, to keep them 
 in good condition ; yet when their natural toughness is 
 got the better of, they always yield the heaviest and most 
 abundant crops. One thing requisite for a clay soil, 
 is to keep it rich and full of manure ; a poor clay being 
 the most ungrateful of all soils, and liardly capable of 
 repaying the expense of labour, after being worn out 
 and exhausted. A clay soil also receives, comparative- 
 ly, small benefit from grass ; and when once allowed to 
 get into a sterile condition, the most active endeavours 
 will with difficulty restore fertility to it, after the lapse 
 ol many years. 
 
 Upon light soils, the case is very different. These 
 flourish under the grass husbandry ; and bare summer 
 fallow is rarely retiuired, because they may be cleaned 
 and cropped in the same year, with that valuable escu- 
 lent, turnip. Upon light soils, however, wheat can sel- 
 dom be extensively cultivated ; nor can a crop be ob- 
 tained of equal value, either in respect of quantity or 
 quality, as on clays and loams. The best method of pro- 
 curing wheats on light lands, is to sow upon a clover 
 stubble, when the soil has got an artificial solidity of 
 body, and is thereby rendered capable of sustaining this 
 grain till it arrives at maturity. The same observation 
 applies to soils of a gravelly nature ; and upon both, bar- 
 ley is generally found to be of as great benefit as wheat. 
 The facility with which every variety of light soil is cul- 
 tivated, furnishes great encouragement to keep them 
 under the plough, though it rarely happens, that when 
 more than one half of such soils are kept in aration, the 
 possessors are greatly benefited. 
 
 Thin clays, and peat earths, are more friendly to the 
 growth of oats than of other grains, though in favour- 
 able seasons a heavy crop of wheat niay be obtained 
 from a thin clay soil, when it has been completely sum- 
 mer-fallowed, and enriched with dung. A fii st applica- 
 tion of calcareous manure is generally accompanied 
 with great advantage upon these soils ; but when once 
 the effect of this apjjlication is over, it can hardly be re.^ 
 peatcd a second time, unless the land has been very cau- 
 tiously managed after the first dressing. Neither of 
 these soils is friendly to grass, yet there is a neces- 
 sity of exercising this husbandry with them, because 
 they are incapable of standing the plough more than a 
 year or two in the course of a rotation. When we 
 come to that branch of our article which treats of crop- 
 ping, we shall notice these matters at greater length ; 
 but in this place it may be sufficient to say, that wheat 
 ought to be the predominant crop upon all the rich clays 
 and strong loams, and that light soils of every kind are 
 well qualified for turnips, barley, S^c. Upon the thin and 
 moorish soils, oats must necessarily preserve a prom- 
 inent rank ; and grass seeds may be cultivated upon 
 every one of them, though with different degrees of ad- 
 vantage, according to the natural and artificial richness 
 of each soil, or to the qualities which it possesses for en- 
 couraging the growth of clover, in the first instance, and 
 preserving the roots of the plant aftei"wards. 
 E e 2
 
 '220 
 
 AGUICULTURE. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 On the System of Farming /iraciiacd in Great 
 
 liuiTAIN. 
 
 Sect. I. 
 
 0/1 the Ancient State of Farming in Great Britain. 
 
 In ancient times, when agriculture was little under- 
 stood, and still worse executed, the ground was chiefly 
 cultivated on account of the proprietors, by persons re- 
 tained in their service, who enjoyed or received a cer- 
 tain part of the produce, as a reward for their laboui, 
 and for the support of the stock employed in its cultiva- 
 tion. A system of this kind, it is believed, prevailed 
 less or more over all Europe for many centuries, and 
 was gradually abandoned, as cultivators gathered stock 
 of their own, and were enabled to rent land from the ac- 
 tual proprietors. This rent, in the first instance, consisted 
 chiefly of services, something similar to what prevails in 
 many parts of the highlands and isles of Scotland at 
 this day ; it was afterwards changed into the pay- 
 ment of a certain quantity of grain, or articles of pro- 
 duce, as agreed upon between the parties ; and finally, 
 as improvements were introduced, and the circulating 
 medium became more plentiful, rent was changed into 
 a money payment ; a mode of settling that matter now 
 generally practised, and certainly more convenient and 
 agreeable than any other, both fur proprietor and ten- 
 ant. 
 
 From this succinct statement it must be obvious, that 
 the size of farms, in the first instance, would be small 
 and confined, while the condition of the tenant would be 
 abject and poor. A tenant just emancipated from a state 
 of bondage and villeinage, could not easily throw off 
 the chains which formerly shackled his mind, and pre- 
 vented his natural independence from coming into ac- 
 tion ; hence many generations would pass away before 
 tenants were cap.iblc of asserting their just and lawful 
 rights, or even before they could find out that a single 
 right appertained to them independent of the will of their 
 landlords. This is so well known to have been the ancient 
 State of British tenants, that there is no need of enlarging 
 upon it. They were oliliged to follow their chief into 
 the field, when called upon, or they were removed from 
 his estate. In fact, before 144-9, no tenant in Scotland 
 Was secure of possession, as, upon the entrance of a new 
 proprietor, he could be effectually removed without the 
 formality of law ; security being obtainable only by the 
 most slavish and implicit obedience. The general 
 situation of the tenantry, under these circumstances, 
 may be easily conceived ; and it is wonderful that the 
 country attained such a degree of improvement, when 
 the condition of those by whom it was to be carried on, 
 was so alijcct and miserable. Exceptions, however, must 
 be made ; and these were numerous amongst the 
 tenants of church lands, wh.o were treated much more 
 kindly and affectionately than their brethren, who occu- 
 pied the lands of the barons. It deserves also to be no- 
 ticed, that the general state of Scotland under the Anglo- 
 Saxon kings, as already mentioned, was comparatively 
 peaceable, and that the people were allowed to remain 
 at home, employed in their domestic occupations ; and 
 were rarely called out to meet a foreign invader, or to 
 repel the attacks of a domestic enemy. These circum- 
 •-tances, however, were changed after the decease of 
 Arexander IIJ. the last of the Anglo-Saxon kings. Du- 
 
 ring J. period not shorter than seventy yea»s, the eounli-y, 
 with little cessation, was engaged in the most cruel wars, 
 which put a stop to every kind of internal improvement, 
 and disposed the people to the practice of rapine and 
 plunder, instead of an honest and industrious life. Nor 
 did the termination of these succession wars, and the 
 establishment of the Stuart family on the throne, restore 
 domestic tranquillity. The different chiefs, acting some- 
 what like rival monarchs, destroyed and wasted the do- 
 mains of each other with fire and sword ; and their ten- 
 antry, obliged to assist them in these ravages, were 
 exposed in their turn to similar treatment from their an- 
 tagonists. In such circumstances, husbandry could not 
 flourish ; nor could those engaged in it be either pros- 
 perous or happy. In fact, internal peace was not re- 
 stored till near the end of the 16th century, when James 
 VI. was firmly seated on the throne, and when law as- 
 sumed its just control over the inhabitants. 
 
 In England, the situation of affairs was scarcely more 
 flourishing. Till the end of the 15th century, or the 
 reign of Henry VII, our sister kingdom had continued 
 in a state either of domestic or foreign warfare ; during 
 which the tenantry were called into the field at the plea- 
 sure of their respective chiefs, and exposed to death and 
 destruction, without having any real interest in the quar- 
 rels in which they engaged. The tenantry of England, 
 however, were better off than those in Scotland, because 
 civil disturbances did not prevail so often, nor was their 
 country invaded and ravaged, as Scotland repeatedly was, 
 during the reigns of the three Edwards. It was only 
 the northern counties of England that were exposed to 
 the partial inroads of the Scotch, and these were the 
 most barren and \incidtivated of the whole ; whereas 
 the best parts of Scotland, lying nearest to the enemj', 
 always suffered most, whilst the northern and uncultiva- 
 ted districts generally escaped. The lord protector 
 Somerset, in one of his marches through East Lothian, 
 burned one half of the villages and farm houses, carried 
 off all the horses and cattle within his reach, and reduc- 
 ed the country to a state of misery, from wliich it did not 
 recover {or many years. 
 
 Under these adverse circumstances, husbandry, which 
 is of all arts most exposed to the destroying hand of an 
 enemy, could not prosper, nor could those who practised 
 it advance far either in political or moral improvement. 
 Farms continued to be of small size, and perhaps were 
 preserved in that state, in order that the number of fol- 
 lowers might be increased as much as possible. The in- 
 troduction of summer fallow into the country, at so late 
 a period as the end of the ITth century, furnishes a 
 strong proof that agriculture long remained in a neglect-' 
 ed state. 
 
 Sect. II. 
 
 Causes of the Sujieriority of British Farming. 
 
 British farming, though far from being perfect, may 
 be considered as much superior to that of the continent. 
 This superiority arises from the more general security 
 of property ; from the beneficial nature of the tenures 
 under which land is occupied ; from the greater diffusion 
 of wealth among agriculturists ; from the partial use of 
 machinery, and the general attention paid to the con- 
 struction of implements for agricultural operations ; from 
 the education bestowed upon agriculturists ; from the 
 intimate union betwixt grass and com husbandry, by 
 which both are greatly beriefited ; and from the good-
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 521 
 
 uess and steatliiiess ol' markets, wheie the several arti- 
 cles of produce arc converted into money. Each of these 
 causes has assisted in promoting British farming, though 
 in different degrees, according- as they have been 
 brought into action, or in proportion to tlie force ^vith 
 which they operated. The lirst, fourth, and last, are ge- 
 neral causes, whose efl'ects are alike beneficial in every 
 situation ; but the others are affected liy local circum- 
 stances, and vary considerably in dilVcrent districts, 
 especially in South and North Britain. We shall en- 
 large a little upon these causes of superiority, and illus- 
 trate their effects in promoting the husbandry of Great 
 Britain. 
 
 In the Jirst place, the security given to property 
 through the whole of the British empire, ensures to 
 every man the complete possession of what his industry 
 acquires, with the exception of that portion of it which 
 is necessarily taken for the protection and defence of the 
 empire. When mankind are subject to arbitrary exac- 
 tions, or when their property is wrested from them at the 
 pleasure of anotiier, industry never can flourish. Under 
 such circumstances, labour may be exerted to a degree 
 sufficient to procure the necessaries of life, but it rarely 
 goes farther. In Britain, however, every man may 
 be said to possess the full fruits of his industry and ex- 
 ertion, and may use and appropriate these fruits in any 
 manner he thiiiks fit, provided it is not injurious to his 
 neighbour, or the welfare of the community of which he 
 is a member. 
 
 In the second place, the tenures under which land is 
 occupied, are favourable to improvement. Here we are 
 well aware, that a general extension of the leasehold 
 system would contribute much to the prosperity of 
 agriculture ; because , where leases are withheld, a 
 strong encouragement is manifestly wanting. On this 
 point, however, we shall not now insist ; though it de- 
 serves attention, that to the tenure of holding by lease, 
 may be attributed the striking and manifold improve- 
 ments accomplished by British tenantry. Their exer- 
 tions were stimulated by the conviction that th>;y were 
 improving for themselves, and that none could step be- 
 tween them and the proposed benefit, so long as they 
 acted agreeably to the obligations of the tenure, in vir- 
 tue of which they had possession for a limited term. 
 Leases have long been more prevalent in Scotland than 
 in England ; and to this prevalence may be imputed the 
 superiority of improvements discernible in the former 
 country. One hundred years ago, England was in every 
 respect the better cultivated country, though in modern 
 times the husbandry of Scotland has advanced witli such 
 rapidity, as now to equal that of England, local circum- 
 stances considered. The leasehold tenure has of late 
 been discouraged in England, and the tenantry forced 
 to trust to the generosity of the proprietors. According 
 to our principles, a manifest obstruction to improve- 
 ment is thereby created; because the most implicit con- 
 fidence does not furnish the same security that is con- 
 ferred by a lease. Allowing that confidence may be 
 safely reposed in the honour of the existing proprietor, 
 what is to become of the tenant in the event of his de- 
 cease, when the estate goes into other hands ? Here 
 honour does not interfere, and the occupier may be turn- 
 ed from his farm, without any violation of that sacred 
 principle. 
 
 In the third place, the general diffusion of wealth in 
 Great Britain is of vast importance to the art of hus- 
 bandry. It is an old saying, though not the less true ou 
 
 that account, that the poor farmer is always a bad one. 
 Though wealth docs not necessarily cause the farmer 
 to excel in professional practice, yet without it, the most 
 scientific knowledge may be useless and unavailing. 
 The British farmer being therefore in general cases bet- 
 ter supplied with capital stock than farmers on the con- 
 tinent, he is enabled to exceed their exertions both in 
 tlie execution of old practices, and in searching after 
 new ones. 
 
 In Wicffjurlh place, the partial use of machinery, and 
 the general attention paid to tlie construction of im- 
 plements for executing agricultural work, arc circum- 
 stances of infinite advantage to British farming. Ma- 
 chines for thrashing grain from the straw, whereby the 
 separation is more completely performed than by hand- 
 labour, or any other method, are now become very com- 
 mon ; whilst fanners, for dressing the grain, are in the 
 possession of almost every farmer. Machinery for break- 
 ing or grinding grain for horse food is likewise erec- 
 ted on the majority of great farms. But the general at- 
 tention shown to the construction of the other imple- 
 ments used in carrying on the operations of husbandry, 
 such as ploughs, harrows, rollers, drills, carts, wagons, 
 and the like, is of incalculable benefit to British farming; 
 and enables those who carry it on to execute every 
 branch of work in the most perfect and profitable man- 
 ner. With respect to these necessary implements, per- 
 haps no country in the world furnishes tradesmen, or 
 artificers capable of constructing them, with greater 
 dexterity, and at so small an expense as those of Britain. 
 With respect to thrashing machines, the remark is par- 
 ticularly appropriate ; those erected on the continent 
 being in every respect defective in strength, and incapa- 
 ble of executing, at the same expense, and with the 
 same effect, the important work of separating corn from 
 the straw ; a work which husbandmen in all ages have 
 considered as the most arduous connected with their pro- 
 fession. 
 
 Even the genei-al convenicncy of farm-buildings, and 
 the comfortable accommodation provided almost in every 
 situation, not only for the husbandman, but also for his 
 servants and live-stock, furnish great encouragement to 
 British farming. When we see a country naked and 
 bare, from a want of enclosures ; when we notice that 
 farm-houses are small, badly constructed, and imper- 
 fectly finished ; when wc obsc rve that the other buildings 
 are mean, irregular, and unfit for the reception of live- 
 stock ; very little consideration is required to ascertain 
 the existing state of husbandry in a district or country 
 to which such a description is applicable. Generally 
 speaking, under such circumstances agriculture will al- 
 ways be found defective, while the condition of the hus- 
 bandman, and those dependent on him, will likewise be 
 found poor and uncomfortable. The British farmer, 
 however, is rarely unprovided with suitable accommoda- 
 tion for himself, his servants, and his live-stock, and thus 
 enjoying sufficient encouragement to execute the duties 
 of his profession. Exceptions there are to this rule, and 
 these exceptions will, in the nature of things, remain in 
 some degree ; but they do not invalidate the truth of 
 what we arc inculcating, namely, that British farming is 
 greatly supported by the comfortable and substantivd 
 buildings generally erected for the accommodation of 
 those engaged in that profession. 
 
 In the _fiftfi place, the great body of cultivators in 
 Great Britain, whose farms are of any considerable ex- 
 tent, have generally received a suitable education, by
 
 222 
 
 AGUICULTUllE. 
 
 which their minds ai'c enlarged ; aninvaUd with a de- 
 sire to improve tlieir condition in the world, and ren- 
 dered etiually (juick to perceive, and ready to adopt, such 
 improvements as may occasionally be proposed. In 
 former times it was objected, that I'urmers were an ob- 
 stinate and bigoted class ol' men, averse to every kind 
 of innovation upon eslablislied practice, and persisting 
 in ancient systems, even after iheir deficiency and in- 
 utility had been ascertained in the most decisive man- 
 ner. Whatever truih there mii^hl toinierly be in ihe 
 objection, its force is now completely removed ; there 
 being no set of men wliatcver more open to conviction, 
 or more willing to adopt new practices, than British far- 
 mers of the present cUiy. This cnaiige of disposition 
 has been accomplished by a general circulaLion of agri- 
 cultural knowledge, since tiie national Board of Agri- 
 culture was established ; by iiumeious periodical pub- 
 lications upon rural economy ; and by lliat increase of 
 ■wealth which flowed from the exertions of the farmer, 
 and which naturally stimulated a search alter new im- 
 provements. According to the measure of attention 
 bestowed upon the education of farmers, it may be ex- 
 pected that improvement will hereafter advance. A 
 man of uncultivated mind may hold a plough, or drive 
 a harrow, in a sufficient manner ; but he will seldom in- 
 troduce an improvement, or be the means of efl'ecting 
 any change in the established system of rural economy. 
 
 In the sixth place, the intimate connexion betwixt 
 grass and corn husbandry has been of high advantage 
 to British farming. Ti'is union is closer in Britain than 
 in any country in Europe, Flanders excepted, and might 
 still be more firmly cemented, were alternate husbandry 
 brought into general practice. This cannot happen, 
 however, in many districts of England, till all land be 
 held in severalty, and the range of old pastures and mea- 
 dows be subjected to the plough. There is little ap- 
 pearance at present of these beneficial alterations be- 
 ing soon adopted, though few arguments are required 
 to prove, that numerous advantages would follow, were 
 alternate husbandry generally introduced. 
 
 The kinds of land on which alternate husbandry can- 
 not be exercised under present circumstances, were the 
 occupiers ever so willing to adopt it, are, 1st, what is 
 called Common Field, where property is mixed ; and, 
 2d, what is called Waste Common, where the subsoil 
 belongs to the lord of the manor, and the surface to a 
 class of people having servitude upon it. According to 
 the common field tenure, no new practice can be intro- 
 duced, unless with the approbation of every one con- 
 cerned ; and it would be saying too much for the good 
 sense of mankind, to reckon upon such a degree of 
 unanimity in a single instance. As for the waste land, 
 it is condemned to sterility, by the laws of the country 
 supporting a mode of tenure inconsistent with national 
 prosperity. Various attempts have been made by the 
 Board of Agriculture, to procure a law for regulating a 
 general division of common and waste land, though, 
 irom the clashing of various interests, unfortunately 
 without success. The advantages which would follow 
 a law of this kind are so numerous, that a wise legis- 
 lature would rather cut a knot that cannot be loosened, 
 than suffer the nation to remain without such advan- 
 tages. 
 
 When a question of this nature is under discussion, 
 the proper way of arguing it is to Inquire, whether the 
 holding of land in commonty, or severalty, is most con- 
 ducive to the public good '. or, in other words, whether 
 
 the ground is most productive under the one tenure o\ 
 the other .' It is the improvement of the country which 
 we ought to have in view, and not the augmentation of 
 inuiv.ciual property ; and, even supposing that private 
 rights may be panially injured, yet li a general division 
 ol these common fields and wastes will increase ttie 
 quantity ol corn or live-stock, the interest of the country 
 is thereby promoted. Now, as no land can be unproved 
 when lying in coinmoaty, it follows, that putting it in that 
 state which allows the proprietor to cultivate and ma- 
 nure it as he pleases, must be a necessary measure, and 
 that the object justly deserves the most serious atten- 
 tion of the legislature. 
 
 The common fields cannot be considered as yielding 
 one half of their natural value, in the way they are 
 managed. They are exhausted by long and continued 
 tillage ; the same rotation of crops lias been followed 
 out lor lime immemorial ;,and in their present situation, 
 improvement is impracticable. To remove every obsta- 
 cle to their melioration, is the duty ot the legislature ; 
 and experience has ascertained, that without one genei-al 
 bill, which must operate upon all, and which in manj' 
 instances will cut the knot that cannot be untied, the 
 public interest must continue to suffer from the unpro- 
 ductive state of these lands. 
 
 The situation of the waste lands reflects shame on 
 the policy of England ; for, while they continue in their 
 present state, the country derives scarcely any benefit 
 from them. Many of them are susceptible of great 
 improvement, provided the owners were emancipated 
 from those legal obstructions which have hitherto pre- 
 vented them from cultivating what ought to be their 
 own property. If the waste lands of Britain were cul- 
 tivated in a wise and judicious manner, they would be 
 of more solid value to the nation, than the whole of otn" 
 West India possessions ; and it presents a melancholy 
 picture, that while we have eagerly contended for the 
 possession of distant countries, we have carelessly ne- 
 glected the melioration of at least one sixth part of our 
 home territories, which were undoubtedly of much more 
 importance. 
 
 But there is another description of lands, where alter- 
 nate husbandry cannot be exercised; and that is the old 
 pastures, which are preserved from the plough with as 
 much care as if the proprietors held their estates under 
 that limitation. As this exclusive system, which pre- 
 vails very extensively, is of great detriment to the public, 
 it may be shown, that breaking up these pastures would 
 in no shape hurt the proprietor, but, on the contrary, 
 that the measure would greatly promote his interest. 
 
 Does ploughing the ground in a proper manner re- 
 duce the natural value of the soil ? or, in other words, 
 will it hinder land from carrying grass of good quality 
 when it is laid down again ? So far from that, it is often 
 necessary to convert pasture into tillage, merely that 
 better crops of grass may be afterwards produced. Land, 
 when uniformly kept in one course, tires for want of 
 variety ; and a farmer might as well expect his land to 
 carry good wheat every year, by the force of manure, 
 as look for grass of equal value for a continued space of 
 time. It is found that the two first years of grass, when 
 the land is sown properly down, afford a greater return 
 than the same number of subsequent years. The grass 
 is considerably earlier, and therefore of greater value ; 
 while, from the natvtral vigour of the plants, a large 
 additional quantity of pasture is procured. 
 
 But allowing, for argument's sake, that land when
 
 AGlilCULTURE. 
 
 223 
 
 in grass continues in a progressive state of improve- 
 nuiu, slul a >.oiiJ>itlt;rabic siiiii is lost lO llic proprietor 
 from not p-oughiiis^ his liclds. VVc niainlain, iliat land, 
 atttr U Uas lain a ccrlain number oi years in grass, is 
 able to pay an extra rent. Tius, by eoatiiiuing it iii the 
 same state, is totally lost; because it it were ploughed 
 for some years, ana then sown down clean ami m good 
 heart, it would cany more grass tluuiever. 
 
 A very great loss is sustained by tnc public from the 
 practice ot this exclusive system. It requires no calcu- 
 lation to how, that by breaking up land, at proper inter- 
 vals, a great deal more corn woukl be raised, an additional 
 quantity ot manure procured for enriching barren soils, 
 and much employment consequently given to the people 
 at large. These are important matters, and should be 
 seriously weighed by every proprietor who keeps his 
 estate principally in grass. 
 
 It may be asked, if the grass grounds are broken up, 
 how are cattle to be fed for supplying the butcher ? We 
 answer, by laying down the old ploughed fields, which 
 would be as much benefited by a cessation from plough- 
 ing, as the others would be renovated by tillage. VVe 
 apprehend as much grass would be raised in this way 
 as ever, wliile at the same time the quantity of corn 
 would be greatly increased. 
 
 In a word, the benefits which would follow from a 
 general introduction ot alternate husbandry, are almost 
 incalculable. Those districts where it is already intro- 
 duced, are by far the richest and most populous. It is 
 only in them that farmers can be considered as having 
 arrived at any degree of perfection. The common field 
 husbandry may be regarded as a remnant of feudal prac- 
 tice, not worthy of existing in these enlightened times, 
 when the true principles of agriculture are so well un- 
 derstood. 
 
 In the last place, the goodness and steadiness of mar- 
 kets in Britain, for disposing of the articles of produce 
 raised by the British tanner, may be mentioned as a 
 principal mean of securing the superiority of our hus- 
 bandry over that of other nations. We need hardly 
 employ a single minute in illustrating this position, be- 
 cause its truth is abundantly manifest. No trade can 
 prosper when its articles are not in demand ; or, more 
 properly speaking, when the market demand for the 
 article to be vended is inferior to the quantity offered 
 for sale. With respect to the articles produced by the 
 British fanner, the demand generally equals, and often 
 exceeds the quantity which he rears ; he has every en- 
 couragement to increase the quantity of his produce, 
 as it may be instantly disposed of at market for money, 
 without lying upon his hands, or giving him unnecessary 
 trouble. Hence a degree of encouragement is given to 
 British farmers, far exceeding what is enjoyed by those 
 of the continent, where prices are not only more unsteady, 
 but where a regular demand is also wanting for the pro- 
 ductions of the agriculturist. 
 
 From these considerations it will in some measure 
 appear, that the British farmer is placed in a preferable 
 situation to that of his brethren on the continent. Fo- 
 reigners, who visit this country, are often puzzled to 
 assign reasons for the superiority of British farming, 
 when compared with that of other countries. They at 
 once unanimously acknowledge, that greater energy is 
 displayed by the British farmer; that the land is better 
 ploughed ; that it is more regularly and systematically 
 cultivated ; that the crops raised are heavier, and appa- 
 
 rently more productive; and in sliort, that the agricul- 
 turist appears in a more elevated situation than with 
 thtiu ; but ot the causes which occasion the diti'ereiicc 
 betwixt British and foreign agriculture, they at the same 
 time candidly acknowledge themselves totally ignorant. 
 We have stated these causes, therefore, in a cursory- 
 manner : and are confident that the ditt'erence might 
 still be rendered wider, were the obstacles to the 
 improvement of British husbandry, hitherto slightly 
 noticed, completely done away, or suffered gradually to 
 diminish. 
 
 Sect. III. 
 
 On the Size nf Farms. 
 
 Where farming is carried on as a separate profession, 
 and those engaged in it are provided with an ample 
 capital stock, it is plain that a farm ought to be of such 
 a size as to furnish regular employment, not only to the 
 master farmer, but also to servants of every description 
 kept on the premises, so that the greatest possible re- 
 turn may be made to their labour, and at the least pos- 
 sible expense. The immense advantages of a regular 
 division of labour, in the process of manufactures, has 
 been long well understood ; but it is only of late that it 
 was thought practicable to extend these advantages to 
 the business of agriculture. Formerly, the man who 
 held the plough wrought with the sickle in harvest, and 
 wielded the flail through the winter season. At one 
 time he cut grass with the silhe, and at another digged 
 ditches with the spade ; putting his hand to every branch 
 of labour, while his horses cooled their heels in the 
 stable, or ranged the scanty pastures in search of food. 
 This is a just representation of the ploughman's avoca- 
 tions in former times ; and it is only of late that his 
 labour has been more correctly arranged. He is now 
 limited to his proper department ; and in all well regu- 
 lated farms, servants are provided for executing other 
 branches of work, by which means the charge of labour 
 is not only lessened, but the several processes are exe- 
 cuted with greater perfection than was practicable under 
 the ancient system. 
 
 From these preliminary remarks, it will be discovered, 
 that a farm must necessarily be of considerable extent 
 before the benefits arising from a division of labour can 
 be fully obtained. Upon a farm comparatively small, 
 these advantages, under the best arrangement, can only 
 be partially gained, because regular employment cannot 
 be furnished there to any servant except the plough- 
 man ; labour, therefore, cannot be suitably divided, or 
 even executed, at the same expense as if the concern 
 were of a more extensive nature. In this point of view, 
 the public interest seems benefited by large farms, 
 though theorists have long contended that such should 
 be expressly prohibited by legislative enactments. The 
 opinion which we have formed on this question differs 
 from that entertained by these gentlemen ; and being 
 founded on practical principles, may be of use, when 
 this important question comes under consideration. We 
 are not advocates for monopoly ; but we are convinced, 
 that an extensive farm, provided the capital stock, and 
 the abilities of the occupier, are adequate, operates not 
 only as a spur to activity and diligence, but may be ma- 
 naged at less expense, and in a more perfect way, than 
 is practicable, were the same quantity of ground divided 
 into a number of small farms. The justness of these
 
 224. 
 
 AGKICLLTURE. 
 
 opinions may appear from the following considera- 
 tions. 
 
 An improved system of husbandry requires, that the 
 farm upon which it is to be carried on snould be of some 
 extent, otherwise room is not aflbrdcd for the different 
 crops necessary to complete a perfect rotation of manage- 
 ment. Tlie farmer, wno practises husbandry upon pro- 
 per principles, should not only have his fields under all 
 sons of grain, but likewise a sufficient quantity of grass 
 and winter crops, for maintaining his slock of cattle and 
 sheep tiirough all the different seasons of the year. By 
 laying out land m this style, die economy of a farm is 
 so rc;:;ulated, that while improvements progressively go 
 forward, too much work does not occur at one time, nor 
 occasion for idleness at anotlier. Wiien tiie expenses 
 of farm-culture are so extravagant as at present, this 
 deserves particular attention; but cannot, in the nature 
 of things, be justly and accurately arranged, where the 
 farm is of small size. 
 
 It mav be imagined, that the arrangement of farm- 
 Ia!;our, and that the cultivation of the ground, whatever 
 the size of the farm may be, is a matter of siinple ques- 
 tion; and that the smallness of the possession only re- 
 duces the scale upon which improvements are to be car- 
 ried on. This may in part be true ; but will the result 
 of the question be favourable to improvements ? Upon 
 50 acres, labour may not be afforded for half a team; 
 the enclosures would perhaps be a few acres, and the 
 farmer would go to market and buy a single beast, thus 
 affording opportunity for spending half the year in idle- 
 ness, wasting the giound by a number of fences, and oc- 
 casioning more expense than the whole profit would re- 
 pay. These things are the necessary consequences of 
 arranging farm management by an arithmetical opera- 
 tion, and are great drawbacks upon the profits of fai-m- 
 iug. 
 
 \Vith regard to the question, whether large or small 
 farm.s are genei-ally best managed ? we apprehend very 
 few words will suffice. Who keeps good horses, and 
 feeds them welW Who makes the completest fallow, 
 t?kes the deepest furrov,', and ploughs best r Who has 
 the greatest number of hands, and sufficient strength for 
 catching the proper season, by which the crop upon the 
 best of grounds is often regulated? Who purchases the 
 most manure, and raises the weightiest crops ? We be- 
 lieve, that, in general, these questions must be answered 
 in favour of the large farmer. 
 
 It is a popular doctrine, that large farms are unfriend- 
 ly to population, and that they ought to be discouraged. 
 We suspect this doctrine is founded in prejudice, and 
 ■will not stand the test of accurate examination. No 
 doubt, if farms are increased in size, the number of far- 
 mers is lessened; this is granted: but with regard to 
 the great scale of population, we are clearly of opinion 
 it is not affected. If a better practice is carried on upon 
 a large farm than a small one, this must be accomplish- 
 ed by employing a greater number of hands. What, 
 therefore, is lost in one class, is gained in ahother. Be- 
 sides, we have often noticed, that upon large farms, most 
 married servants are kept, which affords encouragement 
 to the increase of population. Upon a small farm, from 
 50 to 100 acres, what is the farmer to do? he has not 
 sufficient business for employing his attention, and the 
 smallness of his possession will not allow him to be idle. 
 He therefore must work with his hands, which brings 
 the ciuestlon precisely to the same issue, as if all work 
 ■was performed by hired servants ; independent of the 
 
 arguments we have adduced, that more work is execu- 
 ted, and more hands employed, upon a large farm, ,iian 
 upon the same extent of land divided into small ones. 
 
 It has surprised us to observe many persons taking it 
 for granted, that by increasing the size of a farm you 
 necessarily decrease the number of the people ; without 
 considering, that, if the management is equal in eveiy 
 respect, the population must be exactly the same, with 
 the exception of one or two farmers' families. They 
 tell you that cottages are pulled down ; whereas the 
 large farmer has occasion for more cottages than the 
 small farmer, as he cannot keep so many house servants, 
 and is often under the necessity of buildmg new houses, 
 in order that the number of servants he keeps may be 
 accommodated. An attentive observer will smile at the 
 doleful pictures often exhibited by such alarmists, which, 
 to do them justice, are not original ones, as they have 
 been borrowed from former times. In a word, wherever 
 work is carried on, it must be done by employing hands, 
 and wherever work is executed in the most perfect 
 manner, the greatest number of hands must be employ- 
 ed. If the system carried on upon the premises is im- 
 proved, the population must of course be increased; the 
 one is the cause, the other is the effect, and practice and 
 daily experience justify these conclusions. 
 
 Sect. IV. 
 
 On Hiring or Renting a Farm. 
 
 The farmer, who wishes to hire or rent a farm, should, 
 upon such an occasion, call forth all his abilities. He 
 should equally attend to the disadvantages, and to the 
 advantages of the farm, that he may be able to draw a j 
 balance, and compare that balance with the rent demand- 
 ed. Let him remember, that he must equally discard a 
 too solicitous prudence, which doubts every benefit, and 
 a too daring courage, which overlooks, or lessens every 
 evil. 
 
 It must be obvious to almost eveiy person, that com- 
 mon farmers often lose themselves in deliberating con- 
 cerning a farm. They have so many mistaken rules of | 
 judging, that they often reject farms, that soon after ( 
 make the fortimcs of those who rent them. In particu- 
 lar, they are very apt to take one false guide, — the suc- 
 cess of the last tenant. If a man makes a good deal of 
 money upon a farm, or leaves it for a much larger one, 
 numbers will immediately apply, almost without view- 
 ing it ; but, if a tenant fails, most of the neighbours take 
 it for granted, without further consideration, that his farm 
 was a bad one. They attribute all to the land, and avoid 
 it, under an idea, that without a reduction of rent, the 
 farm cannot be profitable. These notions are absurd in 
 the extreme ; for the management of various farmers is 
 so essentially different, that success often depends very 
 little on rent. A farmer, with a proper sum of money in 
 his pocket, hires a farm, and thrives upon it; another, 
 with a hundred pounds less, hires it, and starves. Sup- 
 pose two faiTncrs of the same substance, and living upon 
 similar farms : one manages his land with judgment and 
 spirit; makes all the manure he can; sells no hay or 
 straw; does not injudiciously crop his land; drains his 
 fields, and keeps his fences in good order. This 'man 
 grows rich. The other, a sloven in these particulars, 
 dwindles into poverty. These are the circumstances 
 that make one man rich, and the other poor ; and surely 
 it must be apparent, that succeeding occupiers, judging
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 225 
 
 of the respeclive farms, by the success of others, arc 
 tflkint; as false a criterion as they can possibly fix upon. 
 
 Let the farmer who is debating whether he siiould 
 hire a farm that is offered him, examine the soil well, 
 that he may be enabled to determine its nature, with 
 respect to stiffness, moisture, exposure, levehiess, slope, 
 stoniness, &c. Let him estimate the expense of drain- 
 ing, manuring, and fencing, that will be required: let 
 him take into consideration the roads, distance of mar- 
 kets, prices of conmiodities, labour, he. The compact- 
 ness of the farm, and the situation of the homestead, 
 should also be well considered; together with the pub- 
 lic burdens, and all out-gonigs. Let him deliberate upon 
 all covenants relating to the manner of cropping the 
 lands; for these are often in direct opposition to im- 
 provement. One general rule, in hiring a farm, should 
 never be lorgotten: The farmer should, if possible, fix 
 upon good land, and he can scarcely pay too much for it ; 
 but, for poor land, the least rent is too high. By good 
 land, however, we are not to understand that which has 
 the command of lasting manures, as marl, &c. ; neither 
 are we to consider lands as unprofitable which pass un- 
 der the denomination of 7y««^(, for such are often very rich. 
 
 These are considerations of great importance. It may 
 also be added, that the mellow, rich, crumbling clays, or 
 rather clayey loams, are, of all soils, the most profitable. 
 Regard such as best, which will admit of being ploughed 
 soon after rain, and do not cake on hot gleams of sun 
 coming soon after: lands of that quality are of the 
 greatest value, and to be preferred by every judicious 
 husbandman. 
 
 Another consideration of great importance is, not to 
 take a farm that may require more money to stock it 
 well, than the farmer is in possession of. Farmers are 
 usually very eager after quantity; the certain conse- 
 quence of which is, a slovenly system of management. 
 A farmer loses much when he is obliged to desist fiom 
 a work, which he knows to be right, in consequence of 
 a want of money ; and he can only prevent such a loss, 
 by hiring no more land than he can manage in a mas- 
 terly manner. Let any one consider the difference be- 
 tween good and bad husbandry in all its branches. The 
 one is a certain loss; the other a certain gain. A pro- 
 fitable and proper use of natural manures, as marl, clay, 
 lime, inc. can only be made by those farmers who have 
 money at command. Li the neiglibourhood of great 
 cities and towns, a variety of manures are to be had, and 
 in some places at a reasonable price; but without the 
 command of money, how are they to be obtained ? 
 
 As in land, so in manures, quality is to be considered 
 above quantity; but this is a distinction that many far- 
 mers are unable to make, and yet it is a thing of the 
 \itniost importance. Animals require food of a good 
 quality, and they reject that which is bad ; but vegeta- 
 bles beuigof a passive nature, they can only show their 
 dislike by a feeble and unhealthy appearance when 
 growing. 
 
 Let the farmer ever hold in rcmemlirancc, that ma- 
 nure is the life and soul of husbandry ; and he that 
 knows how to prepare it, and afterwards how to apply it, 
 cannot fail of being a successful farmer in any situation. 
 
 Sect. V. 
 
 On the Occu/ialion of the Soil. 
 
 The portion of land in Britain kept in the hands of pro- 
 prietors, is comparatively very small, ninetv-ninc parts 
 Vol I. Part L 
 
 out of a hundred at least being demised by lease or 
 agreement to tenants for a greater or lesser number of 
 years, under certain conditions or prestations, which 
 govern their management, and ascertain the terms un- 
 der which possession is to be held during the years 
 agreed upon. This is a wise system lor proprietors to 
 act upon, because without the aid of the tenantry it is 
 morally and physically impracticable to procure a suit- 
 able return from their estates, or even to have them cul- 
 tivated or improved to an extent in any measure ade- 
 quate to their natural value. There are exceptional, 
 however, to this rule, but they are not numerous. We 
 have seen some proprietors improve lands in their pos- 
 session as well as could have been done ijy the most cor- 
 rect farmer, though perhaps at a greater expense. Tiiis 
 must necessarily happen from the latter being always at 
 the head of affairs, whereas the other must depute the 
 management to a Ijailift" or steward, whose interest is 
 not materially concerned in the issue. 
 
 Agriculture in Britain is therefore carried on by far- 
 mers, who rent the land on such terms as can be agreed 
 upon, and in most cases upon a lease of longer or shorter 
 duration, as is customary upon the estate, or agreeable 
 to the wishes of the proprietor. Generally speaking, 
 the length of a lease is from 19 to 21 years. In some 
 cases it is not so long ; but it is evident, that when land 
 is in an unimproved condition, a greater number of years 
 is necessary to excite the tenant to make improvements, 
 because he cannot otherwise reap tlie fruit of his labours. 
 Ihe value of land, for the last twenty years, has increased 
 so rapidly, that most proprietors are averse to grant a 
 long lease, tliough it is demonstrable, that by shorten- 
 ing the period the permanent interest of the property is 
 not advanced. A greater or less munber of restrictive 
 covenants are usually inserted in leases, many of them 
 undoubtedly detrimental to the tenant, without beirvg of 
 the slightest benefit to the proprietor. When leases are 
 from year to year, or the tenant is rcraoveable upon six 
 months' warning, a practice very frequent in England, 
 strict covenants may be necessary; because the tenant, 
 having no more than an annual interest in the premises, 
 might be led to sacrifice every principle of good hus- 
 bandry, and to ruin the ground committed to his ma- 
 nagement; but where the lease is for 19 or 21 years, 
 covenants of any kind, except the one relative to annual 
 rent, seem altogether useless, unless in so far as relates 
 to the four last years, when the interest of the parties 
 clash or interfere. Even then, nothing more is neces- 
 sary than covenants respecting grass and fallow, houses 
 and fences; for in the other years, the interest of the 
 tenant is a stronger motive to the performance of duty 
 than the most express written obligations. 
 
 T!-,e growing of corn may be considered as the chief 
 object of British farmers; though in many of the inland 
 districts, the grazing system is more extensively follow- 
 ed, and little grain cultivated, except what is required 
 for the consumption of the neighbouring inhabitants. 
 Perhaps the most perfect system of husbandry is that 
 which conjoins the corn and grazing trade, usually called 
 the alternate husbandry, where two culmiferous crops 
 do not follow in the rotation, but grass, or one or other 
 of the leguminous varieties, succeeds each corn crop. 
 If this system be diligently exercised, it is a matter of 
 little importance to the soil what varieties either of cul- 
 miferous or leguminous articles are cultivated, because 
 it will be equally benefited; though local circumstances 
 niav render it for the interest of the tenant to cultivate 
 F f
 
 226 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 one kind in preference lo another. The alternate hus- 
 bandry prevails more in Britain than in any part of Eu- 
 rope, Flanders excepted, and is rapidly spreading in 
 every district. In fact, a system of that nature is emi- 
 nently beneficial to every soil, and most advantageous 
 for the tenant in every situation, though the proper crops 
 to be cultivated depend entirely upon soil and climate. 
 These vary so much in Britain, as to preclude didactic 
 rules concerning tlie crops which may be most profit- 
 ably cultivated; but, where th.- soil and clinjate are fa- 
 vourable, and manure is at the conunand of the tenant, 
 wheat always forms a prominent article of British cul- 
 ture. So naich of the soil, however, is of inferior qua- 
 lity, ai,d the climate in many districts is so unfavourable 
 to the growth of that grain, as to render the culture of 
 oats in many cases more beneficial. Wheat is indeed 
 now cultivated in Britain to an extent almost equal to 
 the consumption of the inhabitants, notwithstanding the 
 general predilection for bread made from that grain, 
 which furnishes a good reason for bringing waste ground 
 scattered up and down the island into immediate culti- 
 vation. Without adopting a measure of this nature, the 
 country cannot be furnished with a regular supply of 
 grain, independent of the aid of foreign nations; and 
 this aid, under existing circumstances, must be viewed 
 not only as precarious and uncertain, but as placing the 
 countiy in a state of dependence, which every consider- 
 ate person must certainly deprecate. 
 
 Notwithstanding all the advantages which are en- 
 joyed, perfect husbandry is not to be looked for in 
 Great Britain, unless leases are more generally granted, 
 and a greater degree of liberty allowed to the tenant 
 than has been hitherto enjoyed under the customary 
 covenants. Perhaps the lease-hold tenure is more fre- 
 quent in Britain, and discretionary management more 
 prevalent than in other countries. To these things, 
 and the security afforded to property by a wise system 
 of laws, may the superiorit)' of British husbandry be at- 
 tributed. Several other minor advantages have been 
 noticed, and the whole connected together are eminent- 
 ly beneficial to the prosperity of the state. A wise 
 economist would, however, study to improve all these 
 advantages. To do away every obstacle in the road of 
 improvement, would by him be considered as an impor- 
 tant service to the commvniity. The art of agriculture 
 has been viewed as the parent from whence all others 
 spring ; and the more the parent art is improved, so much 
 more encouragement will be afforded to the increase of 
 the inferior ones. This island has already derived nu- 
 merous advantages from the increased attention shown 
 to the improvement of its agriculture ; and it is to be 
 hoped this attention will continue to increase, and be 
 thereby a constant aid furnished to national prosperity. 
 The decline of agriculture would be the surest symp- 
 tom of national ruin. Britain hitherto has matched any 
 part of the world in a knowledge of the arts, and in the 
 practice of trade and manufactures. The origin of that 
 knowledge, and the source of these practices, may, in 
 some measure, be traced to the improvement of its agri- 
 culture. This art forms the basis or foimdation on 
 which all others are reared ; and as it is more perfect in 
 Britain than in other countries, commerce and manu- 
 factures have risen to proportional excellence. — The 
 subject might be enlarged upon much f\iithcr, but what 
 we have said in a preceding Section, will show sufficient- 
 ly the causes of the superiority of British husbandry to 
 
 that of foreign countries, and the advantages whick arc 
 derived to tlic nation from that superiority. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 On the System of Connexion betwixt Proprieto«s 
 a?icl Tenants m Great ISritain. 
 
 The bond of connexion between proprietors and ten- 
 ants, or the nature of the system wmch conn cts tnesc 
 two classes together, is of mucli more importance to the 
 cause of agriculture than many of our writers on rural 
 economy seem to imagine. In fact, the moral excite- 
 ment, or degree of encouragement given to tlie tenant 
 for improving the ground put under his occupation, is 
 regulated entirely by the terms or conditions of the 
 lease under which he holds possession. If the condi- 
 tions be liberal and judicious, and accommodated to the 
 soil and situation of the land thereby demised to the 
 tenant, all that is obligatory upon the proprietor is faith- 
 fully discharged. But, when matters are otherwise, 
 when tlie tenant possesses under a short lease ; whea 
 the covenants or obligations are severe in the first in- 
 stance, and ultimately of little avail towards forwarding 
 improvement, it may reasonably be inferred, that the con- 
 nexion is improperly constituted, and that little benefit 
 will thence follow either to the public, or to the parties 
 concerned. 
 
 Sect. I. 
 
 On Leases. 
 
 Holding land under a lease is a very ancient tenure 
 in Britain, though the obligations of that instrument have 
 varied and altered materially since the tenure was first 
 established. We have already, in a cursory manner, 
 pointed out the utility of leases, and described the an- 
 cient state of the agriculturists of this country. Wc 
 have described the original cultivators as persons who 
 managed the ground in behalf of the proprietors, and to 
 whom a certain proportion of the produce was allotted 
 for maintenance of themselves and those under them. 
 They did not possess any stock of their own, but acted 
 merely as servants of the proprietors, who furnished the 
 means by which cultivation was carried on, and to whom 
 they were liable for the value of stock put into their 
 hands, and for the remainder of the produce after their 
 own allowance and the expense of management were 
 defrayed. This view of the husbandman's situation in 
 ancient times, accords with the accounts given of it by 
 the late lord Kames, an authority of no small considera- 
 tion, and indeed is analogous with the state of property 
 and society at the time, and quite consistent with the 
 records transmitted to us. His lordship says, that " lands 
 were originally occupied by bondmen, who were the 
 property of the landlord, and consequently were not ca- 
 pable to hold any property of their own; but, such per- 
 sons who had no interest to be industrious, and who 
 were under no compulsion when not under the eye of 
 their master, were generally lazy, and always careless. 
 This made it eligible to have a free man to manage the 
 farm, who, probably, at first got some acres set apart to 
 him for his maintenance and wages. But this not being 
 a sufficient spur to industry, it was found a salutary mea- 
 sure to assume this man as a partner, by communicating 
 to him a proportion of the product, in place of wages, by
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 22; 
 
 wfiich he came to manage for his own interest as well 
 as that of his master. Tlie next step hud still a better 
 effect, entitling the master to a yearly qviantity certain, 
 and the overplus to remain with the servant. By this 
 contract, the benefit of the servant's industry accrued 
 wholly to himself, and his indolence or ignorance Imrt 
 himself alone. One further step was necessary to bring 
 the contract to its due perfection, which is, to give the 
 servant a lease for years, without which, he is not se- 
 cure that his industry will turn to his own profit. By a 
 contract in these terms, he acquired the name of tenant, 
 because he was entitled to hold the possession for years 
 certain." 
 
 The slightest trace of security being attained in the 
 possession of landed property m Britain, cannot be found 
 earlier than the reigns of the Anglo-Saxon monarchs of 
 Scotland, and after the Norman conquest of England; 
 since which periods, property has been possessed nearly 
 under the same tenures, though not under the same 
 burdens, as at this day. But though the possession of 
 property may be considered as uniiormly lield under the 
 crown, yet the situation of those who bore the heat and 
 burden of the day, those who laboured the ground and 
 made it productive, was vastly dissimilar. Originally 
 there was no description of property in the country, ex- 
 cept the soil and the animals reared upon it ; therefore, 
 when the soil was portioned out and allocated amongst 
 those to whom the sovereign was pleased to grant it, the 
 remainder of the people, left unprovided, were to all in- 
 tents and purposes entirely dependent upon those on 
 whom land had been bestowed ; because, froni the situa- 
 tion of the country at the time, no other resource or 
 means of support was to be found. The proprietors 
 who obtained grants of land fiom the crown, conveyed 
 part of it to their principal dependents, as feudatories or 
 vassals, and from the circumstances of charter and seisin 
 being taken upon these conveyances, it has been suppo- 
 sed that leasehold was a tenure of very ancient d.ite. 
 There is reason, however, to assert, that leases were 
 unknown, at least in Scotland, till the clergy obtained 
 landed possessions; and that the like tenure was after- 
 wards extended to the tenants of the lay proprietors, as 
 the country increased in wealth, and as the circum- 
 stances and condition of the actual cultivators were im- 
 proved and meliorated. Not sooner than 1449, how- 
 ever, was any tenant secure of possession, though the 
 clauses of his lease were ever so strong ; nor was he se- 
 cured against the claims of the proprietor's creditors 
 till twenty years afterwards, wMien an act passed freeing 
 him from all claim.s exceeding the actual rents due by 
 him. In England, the tenant seems to have remained 
 longer in an insecure and precarious state than even in 
 Scotland; for till the act 20th Henry VIII. was passed, 
 any tenant might be ejected by the form of process, call- 
 ed a common recovery. From these circumstances, 
 the degraded condition of cultivators or farmers in an- 
 cient times will easily be ascertained; and from what 
 will afterwards appear, their condition does not seem to 
 be so much improved as imperiously called for upon 
 principles calculated to promote the public interest. 
 The prosperity of the state is at all times intimately 
 connected with the successful cultivation of the soil, and 
 the increase of agricultural produce ; every circum- 
 
 stance, therefore, prejudicial to the one, is necessarily 
 prejudicial to the other. 
 
 Viewing farmers as standing in the condition of pro- 
 prietors, and exposed to the same difficulties that would 
 occur to the latter, were the cultivation of the ground 
 to be carried on at their risk and expense, we must con- 
 sider every unnecessary hardship imposed upon them, 
 and every obstruction thrown in the way of spirited cul- 
 tivation, as tending for the time to lessen the real value 
 of the property, and as injurious to the uitercst of the 
 state. If a certain number of years must elapse before 
 the best concerted plan can be carried fully into execu- 
 tion ; and if another number of years must expire before 
 the fruits of that plan can be reaped or obtained, then it 
 would appear that the proprietor, who cither obstinately 
 refuses to set his land upon lease, or to grant to the 
 tenant such a lease as shall insure him a reasonable term 
 of possession for reaping the fruits of improvement, 
 must be considered not only as highly culpable, but 
 guilty of a kind of high treason against the prosperity 
 of the state. On the other hand, proprietors who grant 
 leases, and include in them covenants or obligations that 
 obstruct the operations of the farmer, or, which is the 
 same thing, prevent him from raising the greatest pos- 
 sible quantity of produce for the use of the community, 
 must also be regarded as enemies of the public welfare. 
 If agriculture is a main pillar of the state, every measure 
 tending to injure or reduce its strength, must be con- 
 sidered as hostile to the community, and deserving of 
 the severest censure and reprobation. 
 
 Before a farm can be put in proper order, a considera- 
 ble time must elapse, and much money must be ex- 
 pended. The fruits of improvements are not gained all 
 at once, and a number of years are required to accom- 
 plish the best digested plan. Suppose, for instance, a 
 person entering to a farm that was worn out and ex- 
 hausted by lor.g and successive tillage, and that he 
 wishes to refresh the land by laying it down in grass; it 
 will be six years at least before he can go over it all 
 with fallow ; and unless he sow it down clean, he is nei- 
 ther doing the land nor himself justice. If he continues 
 it in grass five or six years more, which is little enough 
 time for ground so exhausted, it will be found that near 
 twenty years must take place before he receive the re- 
 ward of his improved cultivation ; and to receive this re- 
 ward he has a claim both from his superior management, 
 and as an incitement to his future industry: but what 
 security has he for this reward, or what incentive has 
 he to industry, if he sits upon the premises by virtue of 
 an annual lease ? Inthe midst of his career he may be 
 interrupted by a six- months' warning, and the toil of his 
 hands, and the fruits of his improvements, be transfer- 
 red to another. These are not imaginary apprehensions, 
 but are founded upon real and solid principles; and will 
 operate less or more upon every farmer, according to 
 his situation and circumstances. 
 
 Many cases of a similar nature might be put; but 
 from the above we hope it will appear, that before any 
 substantial improvements can be expected from the far- 
 mer, he must have the security of a lease, for affording 
 him time to reap the fruits of these improvements. 
 There is, in the course of farming, as much often laid 
 out in one year, as many succeeding crops can repay ;* 
 
 • We shall give one instance to corroborate what is here said. A farmer of our acquaintance had an acre of rich mossy meadow 
 J^'onnd, wliicli was totally unfit for plniigliing', and could scarce carry the weight of a beast in the driest summer months. In order 
 SO make it crop with the rest of the field, he drained it completely ; and as, from the strength of the roots of the heibac^e, it would 
 
 F f 2
 
 228 
 
 AGRICULTUIJE. 
 
 in this case, ^vhel•c tlic fanner has a lease, he looks to a 
 future period for being reimbursed: if he has none, can 
 it ever be expected that any man of common sense will 
 throw away his money by improving another person's 
 estate, and cast himself upon the mercy and discretion 
 ©f his landlord for time and opportunity to gain it back 
 again? The farmer who would do this, is not guided 
 by those principles wliich influence the rest of man- 
 knid. 
 
 The more a farm is improved, the greater the cjuantity 
 cf manure laid upon it, the cleaner the fields, the richer 
 the pastures and meadows, the completer the fences, and 
 the more convenient the buildings and offices, the more 
 uncertain is tlie situation ot the farmer who has no lease, 
 and the greater are the allurements held out to a covet- 
 ous neighbour to attempt to wrest his possession from 
 him, or to a desigsiing steward to increase his rent. 
 Such being the case, every considerate man is deterred 
 from expending more than he is necessarily obliged to 
 do; and therefore it follows, that the withholding leases 
 is a real and certain obstacle to farther improvements. 
 
 We migiil also mention arguments of a different kind 
 for granting leases ; which, however contemptuously 
 they may be viewed by others, have great weight with 
 us. The farmer who sits without a lease, has not the 
 privilege of tliinking and acting for himself ; it is need- 
 less to bring forward arguments in support of this propo- 
 sition, for it cannot be contradicted. We have often 
 heard it said, that the liberty enjoyed by the farmer, and 
 the security aftbrded by tiie constitution to his property, 
 were the principal causes why agriculture flourished 
 more in this island than in other nations. We beg leave 
 to inquire, where is the liberty enjoyed by the farmer 
 who sits without a lease ? His words and actions are 
 under the most absolute subjection to another, who car- 
 ries along with him a never failing argument upon all 
 occasions. Let the abject situation of such a man, placed 
 under a capricious laridlord, be considered. His best 
 actions may be misinterpreted ; he is exposed to every 
 indignity without daring to coniplain : or if the spirit of 
 a man rises within him, what security does the constitu- 
 tion afford to his siluition ? If he has made improve- 
 ments, the fruits of them are wrested from him by an 
 arbitrary removal. Another farm cannot always be ob- 
 tained, and he may be turned upon the wide world, 
 without the hopes of redress. A prudent man will re- 
 flect upon these things ; and if he is so critically situated, 
 will often rather part with his natural rights than ex- 
 pose himself to misery. He may have a numerous 
 family ; his farm may be doing well with him ; he may 
 have contracted an affection for his natale solum, and be 
 uncertain what will be the issue. The picture may be 
 still more highly coloured ; but from the above we con- 
 lend, that the want of a lease precludes the farmer from 
 acting as a free agent, and renders his property insecure 
 and precarious. 
 
 Without insisting further in favour of leases, it may 
 enly be added, that this salutary tenure prevails almost 
 
 tlirougn the whole of Scotland, and perhaps one lialf ol 
 liiiglaiid. If it IS true, as stated by Mr Arthur Young. 
 " '/'/lal the imjirovcmvnt:) ivhicit have taken filace in Eng- 
 land, have been atm'jut owing to the cuatom of granting 
 leaseti, atul that, in th'jue countii », where it is unusual to 
 grant them, agriculture co7itinuea much inferior to ivhut it 
 is to be found ivhere they are usual," the question con- 
 cerning their utility is at an end; and the culpability of 
 every proprietor who refuses to invest his tciiant wiUi 
 such a security, is completely ascertauied. Tiie proprie- 
 tor who acts hi such a way lessens the value of his estate, 
 in the first instance, and ultimately injures the interests 
 cjf the community, in so far as tlie iniprovement of agri- 
 culture is thereby retarded. Tnc subject is of such 
 importance as to deserve the attention ol the legislature. 
 Assuredly no object is more worthy of notice Ironi the 
 guardians of the state, than one which affects its vital 
 interests; and though a couimendable delicacy prevails 
 against any interference with the management of private 
 property, yet there are certain bounds within wh.ch 
 that delicacy ought to be confined, and beyond which 
 the conduct of proprietors should be investigated and 
 restricted. Tho.e who persist in a refusal of leases, or, 
 which is the same thing, impede the progress of im- 
 provements, deserve to be viewed as persons unfriendly 
 to the national welfare. 
 
 The benefit of leases has been strikingly exemplified 
 in the low-country districts of Scotland. There the 
 tenantry, one or two estates excepted, are secured in 
 possession either for 19 or 21 years, and sometimes for a 
 longer period. Hence a rapid improvement of the coun- 
 try has taken place, and great and substantial undertak- 
 ings have been executed, which no man in his senses 
 would have planned, had the security of a lease been 
 withheld. Excellent farm-houses and offices have been 
 erected, open fields have been enclosed, wet lands have 
 been drained, and unproductive wastes brought into a 
 high state of cultivation. From these circumstances, 
 the rentals of proprietors have increased at an amazing 
 rate, without tlieir being subjected to any expense in 
 procuring the increase. Since 1790, the rent of land 
 in Scotland has increased in a two-fold degree above 
 that of England; solely because the system of connexion 
 between the proprietor and the occupier is formed upon 
 more liberal terms in the one country than in the other. 
 Were the liberal system of Scotland to be imitated in 
 England, there is no doubt but that the consequent ad- 
 vantages would be greater; because soil, climate, mar- 
 kets, and other local circumstances, arc more favourable 
 to agriculture in the latter than in the former country. 
 To grant leases is one step towards procuring these 
 advantages, but more is still required ; namely, that a 
 kind of discretionary management be intrusted to the 
 tenant. II this be not done, his mind will be fettered, 
 and his operations confined to the beaten path of ancient 
 usage. 
 
 After all, though long leases can alone lead to im- 
 provements of permanent duration ; yet, nevertheless, 
 
 not plough to advant.ig-e, he dig'ged the whole of it with the spade, and proposes to lime it when the ground becomes consolidated. 
 
 The expenses wei-c, 
 
 Casting drains, - - - - - - - - - - - L. 4 15 
 
 Gathering stones, driving them, and filling up the drains, - - - - • - 5 18 
 
 Digging the ground, which, from the strength of the roots, was a severe operation, - - 4 10 
 
 Besides the expense of lime, which will be 6/. more. 
 
 Query, 'Would lie liuve improTed this meadow without a lease i 
 
 Total expense. 
 
 L. 15 3
 
 ACilllCULTURE. 
 
 229 
 
 towards the close of every lease, there must be an un- 
 improving period, during which incliurmiou on tlie part 
 of tlie tciiant will cease, and where the compulsion of 
 regulation must be subsiuuled to enforce improvement. 
 A compulsion of this kind, however, generally proves a 
 weak and inefiicicnt substitute for the more jiowerl'ul 
 motive of pi'ivate interest, and seldom accomplishes the 
 benetit intended to be produced. 
 
 To remedy tins delect, lord Karnes, who probaljly was 
 the first man in Britain who considered farming in the 
 view of its proper iiloral excitements, suggested the in- 
 definite, or perpetual lease. His lordship proposed that 
 the lease should extend to an uidefinite number of years, 
 consisting of fixed periods, at the end of each of which 
 a rise of rent should take place, with permission for the 
 t-enant, at the period of each of these rises of rent, to 
 give up his fivrm if he shall see proper, and granting a 
 similar power to the landlord, upon proper terms, to re- 
 sume his land if he shall think tit. The particulars of 
 this contract, and the grounds on which they rest, are as 
 follows. 
 
 His lordship assumes it as a principle, that a landlord 
 and a tenant are capable of forming a tolerably just esti- 
 mate of the value of the land in question, for a short 
 period of years, such as it is customary to grant leases 
 for in Scotland ; say 21 years: and having agreed upon 
 these terms, Mhich, for the present, we shall call 100/. 
 rent, the tenant expresses a wish to have his lease ex- 
 tended to a longer period. To tliis the proprietor ob- 
 jects, on the principle that it is not possible to form a 
 precise estimate of what value the ground may be at 
 the end of that period. He has already seen that ground 
 for the last 21 years has increased much more in value 
 than any person at the beginning of that period could 
 easily have conceived it would have done, and therefore 
 he cannot thhik of extending the lease for a longer pe- 
 riod, as a similar rise of value may be expected to take 
 place in future. This reasoning appears to be well 
 founded, and therefore to give the landlord a reasonable 
 gratification, he proposes that it should be stipulated, 
 that if the tenant should agree to give a certain rise of 
 rentatthe end of tliat period, suppose 20/., the landlord 
 should consent that the lease should run on for another 
 period of 21 years; unless in the cases to be hereafter 
 mentioned. 
 
 But as it may happen that this 20/. now stipulated to 
 be paid at so distant a period, may be more than the far- 
 mer will find he is able to pay, an option shall be given 
 to him to resign his lease, if he should find that this is 
 tlie case, by giving the landlord legal notice one year at 
 least before the expiry of the lease ; but if that notice be 
 omitted, it shall be understood that the tenant is bound 
 to hold the lease for the second 2! years, at the rent 
 specified in the contract. And if the landlord does not 
 give the tenant warning within one month after that pe- 
 riod, it shall be understood, that he too is bound to ac- 
 cept of the stipulated additional rent for the 21 years 
 that are to succeed. 
 
 It may, however, also happen, that the sum specified 
 in the lease may be a rent considerably below the then 
 present value of the farm ; or the proprietor may have 
 very strong reasons for wishing to resume the posses- 
 sion of tliat land, or to obtain an adequate rent for it; a 
 power therefore should be given to him in cither case to 
 resume the lands, if he should so incline. But as a great 
 part of that present value may be owing to the exertions 
 of the farmer, who has laid out money upon the farm, in 
 
 the hopes of enjoying it for a second period of 21 yeai's, 
 it would be unjust lo deprive him of his benefit without 
 giving him a valuable comjfcijsatiou for tnal improved 
 value. On this account it should be stipulated, that in 
 case the proprietor at this tnne resumes the farm, lie 
 shall become bound to pay lo tne tenant ten years' pur- 
 chase of tlie additional rent he had agreed to pay ; which, 
 in the example above slated, would be 2oo/. 
 
 Bui Ihe land may be worth still more than the 200/. 
 rise mentioned in the lease, and the tenant may be con- 
 tent to pay more, say 10/., rather than remove; and he 
 makes oiler accordingly to do so. In that case the land- 
 lord should be bound, either to accept that additional 
 olTer, or to pay ten years' purchase of that also; and so 
 on for every other oiler the tenant shall make before he 
 agrees lo remove from the farm. 
 
 In this way the landlord is always certain that he can 
 never be precluded from obtaining the full value for 
 his land, whatever circumstances may arise. And if the 
 tenant shall prove disagreeable, so that he would wish 
 rather to put another in his place upon the same terms, 
 it never can be any hardship upon the landlord to pay the 
 stipulated sum ; because it would be the same thing lo 
 him as if he bought a new estate at ten years' purchase 
 free of taxes : a thing not lobe expected. It is indeed 
 true, that it would be more advantageous for him to allow 
 the present tenant to continue ; therefore this alternative 
 will be always accepted of, unless in very extraordinary 
 cases, as it ever ought to be; and thus the tetiant's 
 mind is impressed with a conviction that he will con- 
 tinue in his possession; a conviction that ought ever to 
 prevail, because it stinmlatesto industry in the highest 
 degree. 
 
 And as the tenant is thus certain, that, at the very 
 worst, his family must be entitled to draw a reasonable 
 remuneration for the exertions of his industry, he can 
 never find the smallest tendency to relax in his endea- 
 vours. 
 
 By stipulating in the original lease in the same man- 
 ner, that at the end of the second 21 years, the lease 
 shall be continued for 2 1 years more ; and so on at the 
 end of the third, and fourth, and any farther number of 
 periods of 21 years, on agreeing to pay a specified rise 
 of rent; reserving to each party the same privileges as 
 above described, the lease might be continued to per- 
 petuity, without either party ever being in danger of 
 having an undue advantage over the other. The tenant 
 will always be certain of having a preference given him 
 over every other person, and will of course go on with 
 unceasing exertions to better his land, which will of ne- 
 cessity tend to augment the income of the proprietor 
 much more than could have happened under any other 
 system of management. 
 
 Such are the outlines of that plan of a lease which his 
 lordship has proposed. By this plan the tenant's hands 
 are not tied up by restrictive clauses, dictated by igno- 
 rance, under the pretext of securing the interest of the 
 landlord. His interest is secured in a much more effec- 
 tual manner, while the tenant is left at full liberty to avail 
 himself of his knowledge, his skill, and his industry. 
 Instead of ceasing to begin any arduous undertaking, as 
 he must ever do where he has no lease, or of beginning 
 to improve for a few years only at the commencement 
 of his lease, but stopping in a short while in the midst 
 of his career, and then running it down to the same 
 exhausted state as it was at its commencement, he con- 
 tinues to push forward witliout ever stopping ; and ad-
 
 230 
 
 AGBICULTURE. 
 
 vaiices even with an accelerat'ing progress for an end- 
 less period of years. No person but an experienced 
 farmer can conceive the difference that would exist be- 
 tween the productiveness of the same land under this 
 management, at the end of a hundred years, fi-om what 
 it would have been if let even for detaclied periods of 
 21 years each. In unimproved waste lands, the difi'er- 
 ence would approach almost to infinity. In lands wliich 
 were originally very rich, the difference would be less 
 considerable : but in all piaces where cultivation could 
 take place, the difference would be very great. 
 
 Sect. II. 
 
 On Cox'enants in Leases, which restrict, and interfere with, 
 the Tenant's Ofieralions. 
 
 In Scotland, where the custom of granting leases is 
 in general use, tlie restrictive clauses are lew, being 
 chiefly confined to the latter period of the lease, aiid 
 seldom even then of any injury to agriculture. The 
 restrictions on management, which then take place, re- 
 late to the mode of cropping, to the quantity of land 
 that is to be kept in grass, and, finally, to the dung on 
 the farm, and to the land which is to be left in fallow 
 in the waygoing crop. Tnese may be said to be the 
 only restrictions on the management of the tenantry ; 
 and, taking human nature as it is, they are obviously 
 necessary. This is not the case, however, with the re- 
 strictive covenants of the majority of English leases. 
 These operate from the outset, and interfere, almost in 
 every case, with tlie tenant's management. There are 
 mimerous exceptions, no doubt ; but, in most cases, the 
 slightest discretionary management is not permitted. 
 In fact, the tenant, in many instances, cannot be view- 
 ed as a free agent, but as one under the government of 
 a second person, who prescribes his operations, and 
 punishes any neglect or disobedience of which he may 
 be guilty. 
 
 It is easy to perceive, that such a system must be 
 totally adverse to improvement. In fact, the mind, un- 
 der its influence, sinks into apathy, and is contented 
 with the portion of knowledge already gained, without 
 endeavouring to search after additional information. The 
 common and ordinary operations of a fiirm may be suffi- 
 ciently executed by those so circumstanced ; but im- 
 provement must be at an end, when there is no room 
 for the exertion of ingenuity. The very interference of 
 stewards with the tenant's management is sufficient to 
 deaden his exertions ; at all events, their interference 
 crushes his independence, renders him obsequious to 
 those above hun, and careless about all future improve- 
 ment. 
 
 Here it may be observed, that the primary error of 
 this system consists in not giving the tenant a security of 
 possession for a reasonable time ; and the second, and 
 no less important error, arises from the restrictions im- 
 posed during the time he occupies his farm, whicli pre- 
 vent him from changing his management, or of adapt- 
 ing his crops to the nature of the soil which he pos- 
 sesses. Agriculture is a living science, which is pro- 
 gressively improving ; consequently, what may be es- 
 teemed a good course of cropping at one time, may, 
 from experience and observation, be afterwards foiuid 
 defective and erroneous. 
 
 That particular covenants in a lease are obstacles to 
 improvements, cannot be disputed ; for tlie very nature 
 
 of a restrictive covenant supposes, that the practice t* 
 be regulated by it had arrived at its nc jiiun ultra, and 
 could not be mended. These couvenants, or restric- 
 tions, subsist more or lcs.> in every Englisii lease ; and 
 the shorter the lease the more numerous they are. lu 
 annual leases there appears an absolute necessity for 
 them ; as the farmer, trom liaving no certain prospeci 
 of enjoying his possession, would otherwise be tempted 
 to disregard every branch of good husbandry. 
 
 It will hardly be alleged in defence of tliis practice, 
 that agriculture has already arrived at its utmost pitch 
 of peiiection, and that improvements in that art can be 
 carried no farther. We will not suppose that any per- 
 son acquainted with the subject can maintain such an 
 opinion. But how is this to be done, if the farmer, who 
 is the first wheel of the agricultural machine, be re- 
 stricted in his managemeni .' If the crops he is to sow 
 be marked out by tlic drawer of his lease, how are more 
 approved rotations to be introduced ? The fact is, that 
 all good farming is local, and must in a great measure 
 be regulated by the soil and the weather. It is there- 
 fore absurd to lay down in a lease particular rules for a 
 number of years' practice ; as, from circumstances, many 
 fields are often both richer and cleaner after carrying 
 five or six crops, than others are after two ; consequently, 
 without leaving these things to the wisdom and judg- 
 ment of the farmer, the ground can never be properly 
 cultivated, nor made to produce its greatest value. 
 
 Restrictions in a lease necessarily suppose that the 
 fiamer of them possessed more knowledge of farming, 
 than he whose operations are thus to be directed. We 
 leave the public to judge whether this can actually be 
 the case or not. Leases in many counties are often 
 copied from one generation to another, without paying 
 any attention to recent improvements. How is it possi- 
 ble for an attorney, or his clerk, to lay down rules for 
 the farmer's direction \ Allowing it is the steward, or 
 even the proprietor himself, that dictates these rules, 
 we are warranted to say, it is naturally impossible they 
 can be wisely and judiciously framed. Laying aside 
 the consideration of their fettering the farmer's mind, 
 and clogging his operations, such restrictions or rules 
 may, from alteration in markets, be unprofitable ; and, 
 from the vicissitudes of seasons, improper to be ex- 
 ecuted. 
 
 Every farmer knows from experience, that the pro- 
 per manner of cultivating land is only to be learned 
 from an intimate acquaintance with the nature of its 
 soil, and that what is very good management upon one 
 farm, is often very bad upon another. Restrictive cove- 
 nants suppose all to be alike, that grass is of equal 
 benefit on all lands, and that the same quantity of lime 
 should be administered to a light loam as to a strong 
 clay. Besides, in framing these covenants, it is taken 
 for granted, that a person, from a cursory view, is at 
 once able to determine upon the best mode of manage- 
 ment for the endurance of a whole lease ; or, in other 
 words, that his judgment is equal to that of the whole 
 tenantry of an estate. In short, restrictions are inimical 
 to good husbandly ; they sink the farmer into a state of 
 insignificance ; they contract his mind, and lock up his 
 ideas from searching after new schemes, which is the 
 only n"^ethod by which improvements can ever be found 
 out ; and therefore it follows, that a continuation of cove- 
 nants is highly detrimental, not only to the public good, 
 but even to the interest of the proprietor himself, by
 
 AGRICULTLUE. 
 
 231 
 
 lessening the rent that a superior cultivation, arising 
 troni a spirit ol iniprovenitnt, would be able to pay. 
 
 Wt arc ready to admit, that general rules ol nranage- 
 ment are very proper in leases, such as, to keep the hum 
 in good order, to consume all tne straw raised upon it, 
 and to sell no dung. These restrictions we will allow ; 
 and eveiy good farmer will follow them whether he is 
 bound to do so or not. Nay, we will go farther: — If 
 leases of a proper duration were granted, it is very 
 reasonable that the property of the landlord should be 
 protected by restricting clauses, ior the three years 
 previous to their expiration. But after all, it will be 
 fouiKlthat no clause can be inserted, besides the general 
 ©nes already mentioned, that will serve to enhance the 
 value of the land, except obliging the farmer to leave a 
 proportional quantity of such land in grass at the expira- 
 tion of the lease, and specifying the manner in which 
 that land is to be sown down. Other clauses serve only 
 to distre s the farmer, but will never promote the in- 
 terest of the landlord. 
 
 In a word, as the landed proprietor can rarely farm 
 his own lands to advantage, it is necessary when he puts 
 them under the management of others, to invest these 
 j)ersons (generally called tenants) with discretionary 
 powers, or, in other words, with powers to do every 
 thing respecting their cultivation which he himself could 
 have done, otherwise he cannot expect to receive under 
 the name of rent, the full naiural value of his property. 
 It must be remarked, however, that proprietors, in gene- 
 ral cases, consent with reluctance to part with the com- 
 mand and management of their land when conveyed for 
 a temporary period, reserving as much control over it 
 as possible ; though it is plain that every reservation 
 made, lessens the tenant's power to pay them a high 
 rental. This is not the case with the moneyed man ; he 
 does not undtrstand, nor pretends to understand, tire 
 secrets of the trade, or manufacture, in which his mo- 
 ney is invested, and therefore places his confidence in 
 the man, and not in his measures. Why should the 
 landholder act differently ? or why should he affect to 
 direct the whole farming operations during the course 
 of a lease ? A resident proprietor, who has paid atten- 
 tion to farmuig, may attempt such direction without any 
 great degree of absurdity, though never without lessen- 
 ing the sum of rent covenanted to be paid ; but it is 
 ridiculous to sec such direction claimed by law-agents, 
 to whom the management of large estates is chiefly 
 intrusted, and who know little more about farming, than 
 the moneyed man does about the manufacture of muslin, 
 or linens. The utility of some restrictions at tlic con- 
 clusion of a lease, wc have already admitted, chiefly be- 
 cause without them a farm might be thrown out of shape 
 and the management of the succeeding tenant embarras- 
 sed for severaj'years. As for the injury alleged to be 
 committed, by what is called cross cropping, we are 
 rather sceptical on that point, and confess it to be our 
 opinion, tfiat the real vnluc of the soil cannot be less- 
 ened by any mode of cropping, though undoubtedly its 
 artificial value, namely, that which it gains from being 
 j^razed and manured, may in that way be dissipated. 
 Taking a broad view of the matter, we are incUned to 
 consider restrictive covenants as totally superfluous, 
 unless so far as they tend to maintain a regular course 
 of cropping at the conclusion of the lease, and preserve 
 the farm in a husbandman-like condition, at the entry of 
 the succeeding tenant. 
 
 Sect. III. 
 
 On the Rent oj' Land, or the Considerations ^ivcn by the 
 Occujiicr for the Land in his fiosacsaion. 
 
 In ancient times, the rent of land consisted in a cer- 
 tain part of the articles which it produced, and in servi- 
 ces often uiihxed and undetermined. Money in these 
 periods was scarce, and markets for the saie of produce 
 were irregular, and in many places not to be found; 
 therefore the scarcity of circulating medium, and the 
 general want ol markets, rendered a payment or rent in 
 kind a necessary measure. In proportion, however, as 
 the country increased in prosperity, the necessity of pay- 
 ing lent in this manner was graaually obviated, till at 
 last it was almost quite done away, and a fixed payment 
 in money substituted in its place. Latterly, an hiclina- 
 tion to return to the ancient practice has been manifested 
 by several proprietors ; but whether such a return would 
 be of advantage to agriculture, scarcely requires to be 
 discussed. In fact, a rent, either partially or wholly 
 paid in corn, must necessarily be disadvantageous to the 
 tenant ; because the money value of the payment is 
 always greatest when the means of paying it are lessen- 
 ed or curtailed. The price of grain in Britain is rarely 
 high, unless when adverse seasons intervene, and cause 
 a scarcity of farm produce. When the tenant pays in 
 money, the augmented price compensates the deficiency 
 of quantity ; but when in corn, the whole disposeable 
 produce may be msuflicient for discharging the contract- 
 ed obligation ; consequently the tenant may thus be 
 brought under great difficulties. 
 
 Besides what is properly called rent, several public 
 burdens are borne by the tenant, in virtue of his lease, 
 or by act of the legislature. In Scotland these are not 
 of much importance, being only one half of the school- 
 master's salary, one half of poor's-rates, and the commu- 
 ted value of work statuted to be performed on the public 
 roads; the amount of these is trifling, rarely exceeding 
 two per cent, of the rental. But in England the case is 
 different. There the whole public burdens, to which 
 landed property is subject, are defrayed by the tenant, 
 with the exception of the new property tax, from the 
 landlord's share of which he is expressly relieved. These 
 burdens arc, 1. The land tax; 2. Poor-rates; 3. Tythes, 
 where not purchased or commuted ; 4. Road work ; 5. 
 Church and constables' dues, kc. often amounting to a 
 greater sum than the nominal rent stipulated betwixt 
 the parties, though they are to all intents and purposes 
 a part of the real rent. IVIost of these being unfixed, 
 and some of them regulated by the mode of manage- 
 ment, (such as tythes,) render the situation of the tenant 
 vexatious and unpleasant. Were all land tythe free ; 
 were the public burdens to which it is liable uniformly- 
 defrayed by the proprietor; were rent to be a fixed and 
 determinate sum during the years of possession, and the 
 tenant relieved from all arbitrary claims ; then the art 
 of agriculture would be exercised with pleasure and 
 satisfaction. It is owing to tlie greater freedom enjoyed 
 by the cultivators of Scotland, and to the superiority of 
 the system which connects them with proprietors, that 
 the art has progressively advanced with greater rapidity 
 to perfection in the one country than in the other. The 
 same principles which have proved so beneficial to Scot- 
 tish agriculture, must necessarily produce equal advan- 
 tages, were they acted upon in other places. Physical 
 circumstances are more favourable to agricultvu-e io
 
 232 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 England than in her sister country, though it is to be 
 laniuntcd Diat the benefit of these circunisla.nces is more 
 than counteracted by an accumulated quantity of moral 
 evils, which might be removed, were tlie legislatui-e to 
 bestow on these matters a portion ot that attention, 
 which it often bestows upon the melioration or improve- 
 ment of foreign possessions. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 On Tillage. 
 
 Tillage may, in general terms, be described as an 
 operation whereby the soil is either cleared from nox- 
 ious weeds, or prepared for receiving the seeds of plants 
 cidtivated by the husbandman. When this operation is 
 neglected, or even partially executed, the soil becomes 
 foul, barren, and unproductive; hence, upon arable 
 farms, tillage forms the prominent branch of work ; 
 and, according to the perfection or imperfection with 
 which it is executed, the crops of the husbandman, 
 whether of corn or grass, are in a great measure regu- 
 lated. 
 
 Tillage, in the early ages, was performed by hand 
 labour ; but in modern times, the plough has been the 
 tinivcrsal instrument used for exccuthig this necessary 
 and important branch of rural work. In no other way 
 can large fields be turned over, because the expense of 
 digging with the spade, the only other method of turn- 
 ing over the ground, would much exceed any profit that 
 could be reaped. Spade-work, however, is almost uni- 
 versally used in garden culture, where the plants raised 
 are of greater value than those cultivated in the fields ; 
 though the nearer that field culture can be brought to 
 what is exercised in a garden, so much more may the 
 practice of the art be considered as approximating in 
 perfection to that of the other. 
 
 Sect. I. 
 
 Obstructions to Tillage. 
 
 In a work of this kind, it is unnecessary to enlarge 
 ■upon the way by which tillage may be successfully ex- 
 ecuted. It is proper to state, however, that stones lying 
 above or below the surface are the most tormidable 
 obstruction to perfect tillage. On stony ground, the 
 work is not only imperfectly executed, but in many cases 
 the implement is broken to pieces, and a considerable 
 portion of time lost before it is repaired, and put in 
 order. The removal of stones, therefore, especially of 
 such as are below the surface, ought to be a primary 
 object with every agriculturist ; because a neglect of 
 this kind may afterwards occasion him considerable loss 
 and inconvenience. In our practice we have ascertain- 
 ed, that rocky fields are ploughed at an expense nearly 
 double of what was required upon others under different 
 circumstances ; because the ploughman, from necessitv, 
 is obliged to go slowly and with caution. In such situ- 
 ations the evil hardly admits of correction, because the 
 substr.itum is almost of the same nature ; and the rocks 
 which appear may be considered in the light of excres- 
 cences from the substratum ; but where single fixed 
 stones appear in an arable field, they ought to be re- 
 moved immediately, although the closeness of their 
 texture may render the assistance of gunpowder neces- 
 sary. It deserves attention, that very fine soil is always 
 in contact with rocks of this description; and that by 
 
 gaining the use of it, much benefit is derived, inde- 
 pendent of the facility wuich is thus afforded to the 
 ploughman's operations. 
 
 To drain the ground, in other words, to lay it dr)-, 
 also facilitates tillage exceedingly ; for ploughing can- 
 not be pel-formed with advant igc, wiiere either the 
 surface or the subsoil is wet. In fact, every branch of 
 good husbandry is intimately connected with another; 
 and the practice of one branch is necessarily much af- 
 fected by the way in which others are executed. To 
 drain land well, therefore, materially promotes good 
 tillage ; and by good tillage the beneficial effects of 
 manures are considerably increased. To discharge one 
 of these fundamental duties of the husbandman, while 
 the others are neglected, can only be regarded as per- 
 forming a duty which will yield small benefit to those 
 concerned ; but to fulfil the whole duties incumbent on 
 the husbandman, namely, to keep his land dry, clean, 
 and rich, must be estimated as the acinc of perfection 
 in the rural art. 
 
 Sect. II. 
 
 On the Ulililij of Summer Fallow. 
 
 To return to our first definition of tillage, wherein it 
 is characterized as the operation by which the soil is 
 cleaned or rendered free of weeds, we must observe, 
 that the only sure and certain way of accomplishing 
 this object is by ploughing in the summer months, when 
 the ground is dry, and when, by the influence of sun 
 and air, the weeds may be destroyed with facility. Sel- 
 dom at any other period is the soil much benefited by 
 ploughing, unless so far as a seed-bed is thus procured 
 for the succeeding crop ; and though the situation or 
 state of the ground, when these intermediate ploughings 
 are bestowed, is of importance in judging of their uti- 
 lity, yet the radical process of summer fallow cannot, 
 by any means, be altogetiier dispensed with. Though, 
 if the winter and spring ploughings are executed under 
 favourable circumstances, and plenty of manure is at 
 hand, it may be delayed for a greater number of years 
 than is otherwise practicable, if good husbandly is to 
 be maintained. 
 
 In judging of these things, an extensive practice, in 
 almost every kind of soil, has been our guide ; and, 
 though free from prejudice, we are compelled to declare, 
 that without summer fallow, or, which is the same 
 thing, without working the ground in the summer 
 months, perfect husbandry is unattainable on all heavy 
 or cold soils, and upon every variety incumbent on a 
 close or retentive bottom. No doubt a bare or naked 
 fallow is not necessary upon light free soils; because 
 such may be worked in the months of May and June, 
 and afterwards cultivated with tur .ips. Fiiis exception 
 we have uniformly allowed, but farther we cannot go. 
 Even the potatoe husbandry on such soils is, to a certain 
 degree, imperfect, as may easily be ascertained by ex- 
 amining land so cultivated, after the crop is taken up. 
 
 To keep his land clean will always be a principal ob- 
 ject with every good farmer; for, if this is neglected, 
 in place of carrying rich crops of corn or grass, the 
 ground will be exhausted by crops of weeds. Where 
 land is foul, every operation of husbandry must be pro- 
 portionallv non-effective ; and even the manures applied- 
 will, in a great measure, be lost. 
 
 If the season of the year, and the state of the weather, 
 when the ground is ploughed, preparatory to receiving
 
 VGRlCLLTLrRE. 
 
 233 
 
 the seed, be duly considered, it will be found, tluit at 
 that time it can neither be properly divided by the action 
 of the plough, nor can root weeds, or annual weeds, be 
 then extirpated. Hence arises the necessity of workini; 
 it in summer, when the weather is favourable for the 
 purpose of ploughing, and when root weeds may be drag- 
 ged to the surface. It is only at that time the full ad- 
 vantages of ploughing arc attainable ; for summer fallow 
 may with propriety be styled ploughing in perfection. 
 
 The necessity of summer fallow depends greatly upon 
 the nature and quality of the soil ; as, upon some soils, 
 a repetition of this practice is less frequently required 
 than upon others. Wherever the soil is incumbent upon 
 elay or till, it is more disposed to get foul, than when 
 incumbent upon a dry gravelly bottom ; besides, wet 
 soils, from being ploughed in winter, contract a stiffness 
 which lessens the pasture of artihcial plants, and pre- 
 vents them from receiving sufficient nourishment. 
 When land of a dry gravelly quality gets foul, it may 
 easily be cleaned without a plahi summer fallow ; since 
 crops, such as turnips, &c. may be substituted in its 
 place, which, when drilled at proper intervals, admit of 
 being ploughed as often as necessary; whereas wet 
 soils, which are naturally until for carrying such crops, 
 must be cleaned and brought into good order, by fre- 
 iquent ploughings and harrowings during the summer 
 months. 
 
 It is from neglecting to make these distinctions, that 
 many people have pronounced erroneous opinions con- 
 cerning summer fallow. 
 
 The substance of the arguments generally used against 
 fallow, may be comprised under four heads : 
 
 1st, Nature does not require any pause or rest, and 
 the earth was evidently designed to yield a regular un- 
 interrupted produce. 
 
 2dly, As the productive quality of the earth never 
 ceases, if corn is not sown, weeds will be produced; 
 therefore it is our business to expel the unproductive 
 plant, and to introduce others that are beneficial. 
 
 3dly, That the idea of leavmg land to rest is ridicu- 
 lous ; for, by keeping it clean, and by a judicious inter- 
 mixture of crops, it may be managed like a garden, and 
 sown from one generation to another. 
 
 4thly, That the fallows in England exhibit nothing but 
 a conflict betwixt the farmer and his weeds, in which the 
 latter generally prevail ; for at the best they are only 
 half stifled, and never effectually killed. 
 
 The most of these arguments may be granted, and 
 yet the utility, nay, the necessity of summer fallow be 
 consistently maintained. 
 
 It is already acknowledged, that it is only upon wet 
 soils, or, in other words, upon land unfit for the tuinip 
 husbandry, that a plain summer fallow is necessary; and 
 this we suppose includes three-fourths of the island. 
 The utility of summer fallow upon such soils is not con- 
 tended for, because Nature requires a pause to invigo- 
 rate her to carry fresh crops, but solely because it is im- 
 possible to keep them clean without this auxiliary pro- 
 cess. To speak of following Nalin'e in farming is ridi- 
 culous; for if we were to imitate Nature, wc would not 
 cultivate land at all. Nature is often improved by art, 
 and fallowing is the means employed for removing a host 
 of enemies, which prevent her from being fertile and 
 productive. 
 
 As a field filled with root weeds must be in a state 
 of greater exhaustion, than if it carried a heavy crop of 
 corn, so the productive quality of the earth must ncccs- 
 
 VoL. I. Part I. 
 
 sarily decrease in proportion to the quantity of weeds 
 which it brings forth. But because corn is not sown, it 
 does not follow that weeds of any kuid should be suf- 
 fered to grow. The object of allowing the ground to 
 remain a year under fallow, is to afford time and oppor- 
 tunity for expelling the unproductive plant, and to pre- 
 pare it for the reception of others which are beneficial. 
 
 The most judicious intermixture of crops upon clay 
 soils will not preclude the necessity of sunnner fallow, 
 although it will go a great way to prevent a frequent 
 repetition of it. An eighth course shift, sucli as fallow, 
 wiieat, beans drilled and horse-hoed, barley, grass-seeds, 
 oats, beans, and wheat, is as nmch as can be recom- 
 mended ; and it is only upon rich clay, or deep loam, 
 «here such an extensive rotation is admissible. A 
 shift of this kind, when dung is applied twice in the 
 course of it, will pay the farmer more handsomely than 
 the most judicious intermixture of crops, where falllow- 
 ing is neglected. 
 
 Again, no rules drawn from garden practice caji ap- 
 ply to operations carried on in the field ; the soils are 
 generally very different, and any comparison that can be 
 made, must be with those rich sandy loams, upon which, 
 we have allowed faliowhig to be unnecessary. The 
 crops in the garden are reaped at so many different 
 times, and often so early in the season, that opportunity 
 is always gained for working the ground in the comple- 
 test manner; while the immense difference betwixt 
 working with the plough and the spade renders every 
 comparison ridiculous. 
 
 A fallow field, which exhibits a conflict betwixt the 
 farmer and his weeds, does not deserve that appellation ; 
 for the intention of the fallow is to extirpate these 
 weeds. Wc are inclined to think, that the miserable 
 situation of many English fallows may be attributed to 
 the feeding, and folding them with sheep. The farmer, 
 from being obliged, by the conditions of his lease, or the 
 rules of common field management, to fallow every third 
 or fourth year, is tempted to draw something from them 
 when in this unproductive state ; and, to gratify his 
 avarice in the first instance, sacrifices the good hus- 
 bandry which it is his ultimate interest to practise. A 
 well managed fallow should be wrought as early in the 
 season as possible, and continually turned over so long 
 as the least particle of quickens appears. It is no ar- 
 gument against the utility of fallows, that they are often 
 managed in a diff"erent way ; this militates only against 
 the impropriety of the management, but not against the 
 practice itself. 
 
 Upon the whole, the necessity of summer fallow turns 
 upon this single point : — Can wet lands be advantage- 
 ously employed in raising turnips or cabbages ; a ques- 
 tion which the practical farmer, who is sufficiently ac- 
 quainted v.ith the nature of such soils, and the immense 
 laboin- required to bring them hito proper tilth, will have 
 no difficulty to answer in the negative. It is not dispu- 
 ted that turnips and cabbages will grow upon tliesc soils ; 
 but the question is, whether the extraordinary labour 
 they require, and the damage sustained by the groimd, 
 during the consumption or carrying off the crops, will 
 not exceed the value of the produce ? Surely few per- 
 sons will recommend the turnip husbandry under such 
 circumstances? If they do, the recommendation fur- 
 nishes a presumption, that they are unacquainted with the 
 cnltivation of wet lands. If they do not, how is the 
 ground to be kept clean, and enabled to yield a rcgr.I;\>' 
 unintcrrtipted prodticc ?
 
 534 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 Nothing ihut is said in defence of fallow, is meant in 
 V indication of tlie absurd system of taking only two crops 
 to one fallow, as ])ractiscd upon many English common 
 fields. It is oi>ly iricant to sliow, that clay soils, and 
 every soil incumbent upon a wet bottom, cannot be kept 
 clean without tlie assistance of this radical and ancient 
 practice. How often it should be used, must m a great 
 measure he left to the discretion of the farmer, who 
 will repeat it when necessary, if he knows his own in- 
 terest. 
 
 As many different opinions prevail relative to the man- 
 ner in >vhich a fallow shoidd be conducted, our senti- 
 ments upon that head may be acceptable. 
 
 Upon all clay soils (and upon such only, we under- 
 stand a complete summer fallow to be necessary,) the 
 first ploughing ought to be given during the winter 
 uionths, or as early in the spring as possible ; whicli 
 promotes the rotting of the sward and stubble. This 
 should be done by galliering up the ridge, which both 
 lays the ground dry, and rips up the furrows. As soon 
 as seed-time is over, the ridge should be cloven down, 
 preparatoiy to cross ploughing ; and after lying a proper 
 time, should be harrowed and rolled repeatedly, and 
 every particle of quickens that the harrows have brought 
 above should be carefully picked off with the hand. It 
 is then proper to ridge or gather it \ip immediately, 
 which both lays the land in proper condition for meet- 
 ing bad weather, and opens up any fast land that may 
 have been missed in the furrows when the cross plough- 
 ing was given. After tliis, harrow, roll, and gather the 
 root weeds again ; and continue so doing till the field 
 is perfectly clean. 
 
 Mr Marshall, in his Treatise upon the Yorkshire 
 Husbandry, recommends a practice quite different. In 
 liis opinion, ploughing is only necessary ; and taking out 
 live roots by the harrow, and carrying them off, is an 
 evident impropriety. 
 
 Here it maybe remarked, that frequent turning over 
 the ground, although absolutely necessary while the 
 process of fallowing is going on, can never eradicate 
 quickens, couch-grass, or other root weeds. In all clay 
 soils, the ground turns up in lumps, which the severest 
 drought will not penetrate, or at least not so far as to 
 kill the plant contained in the heart of them. When the 
 land is ploughed again, these lumps or clods are simply 
 turned over, and no more ; and the action of the plough 
 serves in no shape to reduce them, or at least in a very 
 imperceptible manner. If ever there was a season for 
 making good fallow by ploughing, it was that of 1793 ; 
 there was hardly a drop of rain during the whole sum- 
 mer ; the drought was excessive, and attended with an 
 almost continued sunshine. Notwithstanding all these 
 advantages, the fallows which were not properly reduced 
 in the beginning of the season, took on a growth as soon 
 as moisture came, about the beginning of harvest. Even 
 when they were completely harrowed and rolled, it was 
 found difiicult to extirpate couch, as the dryness of the 
 ground did not allow it to part so well from the clod as 
 in seasons more moist. 
 
 If this were the case in such a dry season as 1793, 
 •what wotdd the consequences be if the fallows were at 
 all times to be wrought with the plough, without attempt- 
 ing to drag the roots to the surface by the operation of 
 harrowing ? In wet weather, the land might appear 
 black above for a few days ; but the enemy being still in 
 the house, would soon make his appearance. By care- 
 feiUy gathering all the root weeds, when the land is re- 
 
 duced by harrowing, which on many soils is only prac- 
 licabio after the roller is used, an enemy is couvei-led 
 into a friend; for if the slutf, thus gatlieitd, is ac- 
 cuutulated into a heap, frequently turned over, till it rots, 
 and mixed with lime, a most excellv;nt compost is pro- 
 duced. 
 
 There is little danger that clay land will ever be too 
 much reduced by the different harrowings and rollings 
 proposed to be given ; as the last furrow, if taken deep, 
 will raise a mould sufilciently rough for covering tlic 
 seed, and ior protecting the wheat during tnc winter. 
 Upon sucli soils, nothing but frost will reiluee and mel- 
 low the land perfectly ; and we have seen the necessity 
 of leaving fields of this description to be wrought in the 
 spring from the uljsolute impossibility of eradicating or 
 killing the couch, till reinforced by this poweri'ul auxi- 
 liary. 
 
 We may mention another argument in favour of 
 gathering root weeds : — That in no other way can the 
 purpose for which fallow is intended be so cheaply at- 
 tained. Every fuirow tliat is given will at least stand 
 the farmer 12s. per acre; and if hand gathering will 
 save one single ploughing, its expense is amply repaid ; 
 while at the same time we contend, that more root weeds 
 are taken off by gathering them once, than will be des- 
 troyed by a couple of ploughings, allowing the season to 
 be ever so favourable. 
 
 We have heard of other writers that condemn clean 
 summer fallow altogether, as an unnecessai-y waste of 
 rent and labour ; which, in their opinion, might be saved, 
 and the ground kept hi perfect good order by a proper 
 rotation of crops. We apprehend upon all clay soils 
 this is impossible; as every farmer who possesses such 
 soils knows, by experience, the difliculty of keeping 
 them clean, even with the assistance of summer fallows. 
 They are so often ploughed wet, from necessity, that a 
 sourness and adhesion are contracted, which cannot be 
 corrected without exposing it to the hot summer sun, 
 and reducmg it by frequent ploughings and harrowings. 
 No crop can be substituted in place of fallow, for turnips 
 are destruction itself. Drilled beans, as is already said, 
 will do well as an assistant to fallow; but however much 
 this crop may tend to Aerfi land clean that is already in 
 good order, we apprehend, from the necessity of sow- 
 ing them early, that they will never answer as a sub- 
 stitute for one of the most radical of all improvements, 
 — a clean summer fallow. 
 
 A general introduction of the row or drill husbandry 
 has been proposed by some writers, particularly by the 
 author of the New Farmer's Calendar, as a substitute 
 for summer fallow ; and many ingenious reasons have 
 been urged to prove the inutility of the practice, and 
 the folly of those who adhere to it. The author of the 
 Calendar even goes so far as to maintain, that fallowists 
 can bi'ing forward no arguments but hypothetical ones, 
 in defence of the system which they support. These 
 matters being of great importance to the cause of agri- 
 culture, we cannot refrain from noticing them in a 
 cursory manner. 
 
 In the first place, let any person reflect on the con- 
 dition of all land incumbent on a retentive subsoil, in an 
 average of years, when spring seeds are sown. Land 
 of this description, which has been ploughed in winter, 
 will, in the spring season, when ploughed a second time, 
 turn up raw and wet, even when the surface is tolerably 
 dry, and in a workable state. The new turned up fur- 
 row is tough and waxy in the first instance, but after-
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 235 
 
 wards, especially if a hot sun prevails, the suifacc be- 
 comes hard like a bnck, even before tiie bottom or 
 subsoil is tree of the superabiuidant moisture there ac- 
 cumulated. Under these circumstauces, the processes 
 of civilling cannot be executed upon clay soils with the 
 slightest prospect of advantasje. It is even diflicult to 
 form drills lor beans in many seasons, though this grain 
 is generally drilled at viide intervals. To drill wheat, 
 barley, or oats, upon clay soils, in the spring months, 
 may be regaided as a measure physically impossible to 
 be executed. Such grains must necessarily be drilled 
 with narrow intervals, 9 or 12 inches for example; and 
 though practicable on light soils during tlry weather, 
 could not, with tlie slightest prospect ot success, be un- 
 dertaken upon those of a diffeivnt description. The cor- 
 rectness or justice of these arguments, will not be ques- 
 tioned by any person versant in the culture of heavy 
 lands, or by tiio e who have paid attention to the difli- 
 cullies of performing seed-work upon them in the 
 majority of seasons. 
 
 In the second place, were we to allow, for argument's 
 sake, that the drilling of all grain was a practicable 
 measure upon wet lands, still it remains to be inquired, 
 how such soils could be cleaned in a satisfactory manner, 
 when the intervals betwixi the drills must necessarily 
 be narrow and confined, admitting little more than a nar- 
 row hand hoe, which never could exurpate the root 
 weeds, or free the ground of its aboriginal inhabitants. 
 Were a horse hoc to be used, the surface would break 
 up in lumps, or massy pieces, to the destruction of the 
 grain plants, whilst, after all, a hoeing of a deepness 
 sufficient to destroy the weeds could not be given. If 
 the intervals were wide enough to allow a horse hoe 
 room for work, the produce ol the crop would be propor- 
 tionally curtailed, while the quality of the grain would 
 be materially mjured from a continuance of tillering, till 
 a very late period. With beans this does not happen ; 
 for the pods being placed upon the under and middle 
 parts of the stalk, the introduction of air is absolutely 
 necessary to increase their number, and to bring the 
 grain to maturity. Wheat, barley, and oats, are dif- 
 ferently circumstanced. With them the grain is placed 
 upon the top of the stalk, consequently the introduction 
 of air is less necessary. At all events, we are confident 
 that, with equal management, a greater produce may l)e 
 gained from culmiferous ciops upon clay soils, according 
 to the old husbandry, than can possibly be gained by the 
 introduction of row culture. That the southern dis- 
 tricts of England, and many kindly soils in other dis- 
 tricts, may be drilled with safety and advantage, we do 
 not mean to dispute ; but betwixt these and the gene- 
 rality of soils which prevail in the island of Britain, a 
 distinction must be drawn, the husbandry eligible for the 
 one being inadmissible for the other. 
 
 In the third place, what is summer fallowing but 
 merely tilling the ground at a proper season, and free- 
 ing it from weeds, at a time when the operations of 
 ploughing and harrowing can only be successfully execu- 
 ted ? If we had no wet weather, and no winter months, 
 then constant cropping would certainly be practicable, 
 and an extra stock of men and horses would be all that 
 was required ; but in the present state of British ciimate, 
 (and we know not how it is to be avoided) little or no 
 work can be done from autumn to the first of April, 
 which can materially tend. to clear the ground, or free 
 it of root weeds. The sole object of ploughing in whi- 
 ter is to i-ot the stubble, and prepare a seed-bed for 
 
 spring seeds. Even with every degree of attention, 
 ploughing is often, Ironi necessity, peiiorrned in the win- 
 ter season under such f.vourable Circumstances, as to 
 hasten a return of summer fallow sooner than could be 
 wished. Tue anti-fallowists allege, " that tUe earth is 
 destined by nature to an everlasting round of vegetation ;" 
 but there is not nuich sense in the position, when ap- 
 plied to practical husbandry. Will the earth produce 
 ever crops unless the seed is sown .' or ought corn to 
 be sown unless the earth is properly prepared lor its re- 
 ception I The natural vegetation of the earth is a thing 
 assuredly very difl'erent from what man wishes it to ue, 
 and his constant object therefore is to destroy natural, 
 and substitute artificial vegetation in its place. In a 
 word, to free the earth from the vegetation which it na- 
 turally produces, ought to be, and is the steady object 
 of every good husbandman ; and the sole subject for dis- 
 pute is, how and in what way can that freedom be most 
 substantially and effectually gained ? Upon all clay soils, 
 and, generally speaking, upon soils of every description, 
 incumbent upon a wet bottom, the best time of cleaning 
 them is in the summer months ; and in this opinion wc 
 are decidedly supported by the respectable author of 
 the Staffordshire Survey. That gentleman, in his re- 
 port to the Board of Agriculture, says, " Fallowing for 
 wheat on cold, wet, or strong lands, and on all such as 
 are unfit for turnips, is absolutely necessary ; and he 
 who attempts to manage such land without fallowing, 
 will have occasion to repent his mistake. Mixed soils 
 which are too moist for turnips, have a particular pro- 
 pensity to tne production of root grasses. Summer fal- 
 low therefore becomes absolutely necessary, and every 
 attempt to crop without it, for any length of time, on 
 such land, has terminated to the injury of the land, and 
 the loss of the occupier." 
 
 Before we leave the subject of summer fallow, it may 
 be remarked, that the ancients seem to have been very 
 sensible of its utility ; for, instead of recommending 
 fallowing at periods, three, four, six, or eight years, 
 from each other, as is commonly done by modern wri- 
 ters, they mention it as a necessary preparation for a crop 
 in ordinary soils. In Switzerland, and some parts of 
 France, they crop and fallow alternately ; and this seems 
 to have been the common practice among the Romans, 
 from whom, no doubt, oiher nations received it. If the 
 Romans, who enjoyed, from the early season of harvest, 
 great advantages over us, fallowed so frequently ; if 
 they seldom had a crop of any kind immediately after a 
 crop of wheat and barley ; if they even seldom sowed 
 these grains upon lands tliat had cai-ried a crop in the 
 preceding year, excepting when such was cut green 
 for cattle, certainly the late season of harvest in Britain, 
 and the difficulty of preparing land after it for whiter 
 grain, should engage us to fallow much more frequently 
 than we do. 
 
 Although agriculture, and other arts, may have now 
 arrived at greater perfection, than under the Roman 
 government, we are not sure, but that much benefit may 
 be gained from a studious examination of the Roman 
 agricultural system. Good ploughing seems to have 
 been an object of their particular attention ; and with 
 respect to industry in collecting and preparing manure, 
 the most assiduous British husbandman falls far shore 
 of the ancient cultivators. If the ancients were inferior 
 in theoretical knowledge to our modern improvers, yet, 
 in attention to circumstances, and exactness of execu- 
 tion, they seem to have been greatly superior. Nor 
 G g 2
 
 2*36 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 need this siupcnoiily cxciie surprise ; because the great- 
 est and wisest men among the Romans ap])licd them- 
 selves to the study and practice of agricuItuiT. In the 
 hands of such persons, agriculture was brought to the 
 greatest perfection, and all its operations were performed 
 with the greatest economy and exactness. Pliny assigns 
 this as the reason, that, in ancient times, there was such 
 plenty of corn in Rome. — "What," says he, "was the 
 cause of this fruilfulncss ? Was it because, in those 
 times, the lands were c\illivated by tlie hands even of 
 generals; the earth, as it is natural to suppose, delight- 
 ing to be ploughed with a share adorned with la\irels, 
 and by a ploughman who had been honoured with a 
 triumph ? or was it because these men ploughed tlieir 
 fields with the same diligence that they pitched their 
 camps, and secured tlieir corn with the same care that 
 tliey formed their armies for battle ?" 
 
 Though we entertain a favourable opinion of the rural 
 economy of the Romans, and believe, that much may be 
 leanied from it, we are far from recommending it as a 
 pattern to be imitated by British husbandmen. We view 
 it, however, as a ground-work, on which a good fabric 
 may be reared ; because the fundamental principles of 
 agriculture were carried into practice by that people, 
 with a degree of diligence and method well worthy of 
 general imitation. Agriculture is a living science, and 
 susceptible of improvement in every age. In our times, 
 when the implements of husbandry are more perfectly 
 formed, and when more suitable modes of cropping, 
 than were used by the ancients, are adopted, it is altoge- 
 ther unnecessary to crop and fallow alternately ; because 
 it is completely ascertained, that, by diligent cultivation 
 given to intermediate crops, summer fallow may be de- 
 layed for four, six, or eight years, according to soil, 
 seasons, and other circumstances. But, though from 
 these considerations it appears abundantly evident, that 
 a repetition of fallow, as recommended by the Roman 
 writers, would be unnecessary under our improved mode 
 of cropping, yet it does not hence follow, that the prac- 
 tice of working land in the summer months, in other 
 words, of fallowing it, should be given up, merely be- 
 cause the necessity of repeating it so frequently which 
 formerly existed, is now superseded by superior ma- 
 nagement. Every argument in support of fallowing, 
 where the land is foul, remains in full force, or on its 
 original footing, although there may not be the same 
 necessity for repeating it so frequently, as was customary 
 in former times. 
 
 The Rev. Mr Dickson, late of Whittingham, the best 
 practical writer on husbandry since the days of Walter 
 Blythe, seems to hold similar sentiments with those 
 which we are now maintaining. In his Husbandry of the 
 Ancients, a work which displays great genius and ac- 
 quaintance with the present and former state of rural 
 affairs, after stating the predilection of the Romans for 
 summer fallow, and describing the various ways in 
 which it was executed, he says : — " I am sensible, that 
 tJie practice here insisted upon and recommended, in 
 imitation of the ancients, is not agreeable to the most 
 fashionable modes of husbandry. Our latest improvers, 
 or rather our latest writers on agriculture, declare, that 
 he is a slothful or ignorant farmer, who does not raise 
 upon his fields at least one crop every year. When land 
 is very rich, and the farmer remarkably skilful and at- 
 tentive, and has it in his power, by a command of hands, 
 to introduce the garden culture into his corn fields, it is 
 possilde, that the schemes proposed by these gentlemen 
 
 may be prosecuted with success. But, taking our far- 
 mers and land as they are in fact, and considering how- 
 much weeds still prevail in our fields, and how difficult it 
 is, even for the most attentive farmers, to prevent their 
 crops being hurt by them, frequent fallowing, as the 
 most proper method of destroying these enemies, can- 
 not as yet be too much recominended. When we have 
 arrived at greater perfection in the several operations of 
 agriculture, and brought our lands to a higher degree 
 of fertility than at present, then, and indeed, in my opi- 
 nion, not till then, should we think of introducing 
 schemes of perpetual cropping." Much, however, as 
 Britain is improved, still improvement is not so forward 
 as to sanction any scheme ot perpetual cropping; and 
 were it more advanced, we question whether, in such a 
 variable climate as that of the British isles, perpetual 
 cropping can ever be successfully exercised. 
 
 A mode of executing summer fallow, and procuring 
 a crop of turnips in the same year, comes now to be no- 
 ticed. In this way the land may be completely cleaned, 
 perhaps more so than by a bare fallow ; but it is only on 
 light dry soils, that such a mode of cleaning is eligible, 
 or can be executed with advantage. The culture of 
 tuinips will be noticed in a more particular manner, 
 when we treat of legimiinous crops. 
 
 The second object of tillage is to prepare the ground 
 for receiving the seeds of plants cultivated by the hus- 
 bandman ; and here, in general, it may be remarked, 
 that the object is most completely accomplished, when 
 the ground is ploughed deep and equal, while the bot- 
 tom of the furrow immediately above the subsoil is per- 
 fectly loosened, and turned equally over with the part 
 which constitutes the surface. In many places, these 
 properties are altogether neglected, the ground being 
 ploughed in a shallow way, while the bottom of the 
 ploughed land remains something like the .teeth of a 
 saw, having the under part of the furrow imtouched, and 
 consequently not removed by the action of the plough. 
 While these things are suffered, the object of tillage is 
 only partially gained. The food of plants (whatever it 
 may be,) can only be imperfectly procured ; and the 
 ground is drenched and injured by wetness; these 
 bridges, or pieces of land, which are not cut, preventing 
 a descent of the moisture from above to the open fur- 
 rows left for carrying it off. Where the seed-bed is 
 prepared by one ploughing, the greatest care ought to 
 be used in having it closely and equally performed. 
 When two are given, they should be in opposite direc- 
 tions, so that any firm land left in the first may be cut 
 up in the second ploughing. It is not profitable to 
 plough twice one way, if it can be safely avoided. 
 
 Another important point, towards procuring good 
 tillage, is never to plough tlie land when in a wet state ; 
 because encouragement is thus given to the growth of 
 weeds, while a sourness and adhesion is communicated 
 to the ground, which is rarely got the better of till the 
 operations of a summer fallow are again repeated. The 
 Roman writers are very particular against ploughing 
 land, when wet. It is reprobated, in fact, by every one 
 of them. Columella justly represents wet ploughing as 
 most dangerous to the ground : — " When we plough," 
 says he, "we must not touch wet land; for the fields, 
 which arc ploughed wet, cannot be touched for the 
 whole year, and are fit neither for being sown, harrow- 
 ed, nor planted." Palladius gives a similar caution, and 
 takes notice of the same bad consequences: — " It ought 
 to be observed," says he, " that land ought not to be
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 23: 
 
 ploughed when wet ; for land, which receives the first 
 ploughing wlicn wet, cannot be touched for a whole 
 season." From this passage, it appears, that it was 
 reckoned particularly dangerous to give the fallow the 
 first ploughing when in a wet state ; and that, when this 
 was done, it was impossible, by any operations after- 
 wards, to bring it to a right tilth that seed-time. Pliny 
 does no more than mention the received maxim : — "Do 
 not," says he, "^ touch wet land." 
 
 Before we finish this chapter, it is proper to remark, 
 that all soils ought not to be wrought, or ploughed, iu 
 one manner. Each kind has its particular and appro- 
 priate qualities ; and therefore, each requires a particu- 
 lar and appropriate mode of tillage. Ploughing, which 
 is the capital operation of husbandry, ought, on these 
 accounts, to be administered according to the nature of 
 the soil which is to be operated upon, and not executed 
 agreeably to one fixed and determined principle. On 
 strong clays and loams, and on rich gravels and deep 
 sands, the plough ought to go as deep as the cattle are 
 able to work it ; whereas, on thin clays and barren sands, 
 the benefit of deep ploughing is very questionable, 
 especially when such are incumbent on a till-bottom, or 
 where the subsoil is of a yellow ochre nature ; such, 
 when turned up, being little better than poison to tlie 
 surface, unless highly impregnated with alluvial com- 
 post, the efl'ect of which expels the poisonous substance 
 contained in this kind of subsoil, and gives a fertility 
 to the whole mass, more decisive and permanent than 
 would follow a heavy application of the best rotten 
 dung. 
 
 On clay soils, where the ridges must be considerably 
 acclivated, so that the ground may be preserved in some- 
 thing like a di-y condition, the plough, used for tillage, 
 ought to have a mould-board considerably wider set than 
 is required for light soils, in order that the furrow may 
 be close cut below, and duly turned over. This method 
 of constructing the plough necessarily makes a heavier 
 draught than would be the case were the mould-board 
 placed differently, though, if good and sufficient work 
 be wanted, the necessity of constructing the implement 
 in the way mentioned, is absolute and indispensable. 
 The plough to be used on light soils, or on all soils that 
 admit what is technically called crown and furrow 
 ploughing, may be made much straiter below, and yet 
 be capable of executing the work in a perfect manner. 
 Perhaps on every farm consisting of mixed soils, two 
 sets of ploughs ought to be kept, otherwise proper work 
 cannot be performed. All land ought to be ploughed 
 with a shoulder, a phrase well understood by plough- 
 men, though not easily explained ; and the advantages 
 of ploughing in this way are, that, if ploughed before 
 winter, the surface is enabled to resist the winter rains, 
 and afterwards to present a face, on which the harrows 
 can make a proper impression, when the seed process 
 is to be executed. This deserves particular attention 
 when old grass fields are to be broken up; as, by ne- 
 glecting it, the harrows often are luiable to cover the 
 seed. It is perfectly practicable to plough land with a 
 tolerably broad furrow, say 10, 1 1, or 12 inches, and yet 
 to plough it clean, provided the implement used is 
 properly constructed ; but, then, care must be taken 
 that the furrow be of proportional deepness, otherwise 
 it will be laid on its back, instead of being deposited 
 at an angle proper for undergoing the harrowing pro- 
 cess. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 On the Implements of Husbandrt.- 
 
 No country in the world is better provided with im- 
 plements for executing rural labour than Great Britain; 
 and to this superiority may, iu some measure, be attribu- 
 ted the increased and increasing perfection of agricul- 
 ture over the whole island. We have ploughs of all the 
 diftercnt kinds that ever were constructed; and, as for 
 wheel carriages, the variety is immense ; whilst har- 
 rows, and other common implements, of various con- 
 structions and dimensions, are equally numerous. But 
 it is in the articles more properly allied to machinery, 
 that the superiority of British rural implements is most 
 conspicuous. Drills, for sowing grain and small seed.s 
 with regularity, have been constructed upon scientifi< 
 principles; and machines, for separating grain from 
 sti-aw, have been invented, and brought to a degree ol 
 perfection, which few people expected, when these ma- 
 chines were first introduced. 
 
 Imperfect labour is a necessary consequence of de- 
 fective implements ; but where attention is bestowed in 
 constructing implements, the different processes of la- 
 bour, in which they are employed, may, with justice, be 
 considered as perfectly executed, or at least as executed 
 in a better manner, than in those places where attentiou 
 to their construction is neglected and overlooked. In 
 former times, the construction of rural implements was 
 left almost entirely to rude and ignorant artisans, whose 
 operations were guided by no fixed principle, and with 
 whom improvement was left out of sight, the beaten 
 path being only followed. To those, who remember the 
 ploughs that were used in Scotland, at a period not more 
 distant than thirty years from the present date, or who 
 have viewed many of the implements still used in Eng- 
 land for tilling the ground, the justice of the above re- 
 mark will appear unquestionable. At this time, however, 
 the remark does not generally apply; for the true prin- 
 ciples, on which ploughs and other implements should 
 be constructed, have recently been ascertained with 
 mathematical precision, whilst artisans have been ena- 
 bled to imitate what they had not abilities to invent. 
 The assistance thus furnished to the husbandman has 
 been considerable ; whilst great benefit has flowed to 
 the public, and in particular to the proprietors of land in 
 Great Britain. The husbandman, in the first place, was 
 enabled to execute every branch of work in a more per- 
 fect manner, and thus causing the soil to produce great- 
 er crops ; and, in the second place, proprietors and the 
 public received equal benefit; the proprietor by an im- 
 mense increase of his rent-roll, and the public by an 
 increased supply of the necessaries of life, without wliich 
 neither manufactures nor commerce could have been 
 carried on so extensively as they have been. 
 
 Sect. I. 
 
 Of the Plough. 
 
 The plough is an instrument of such importance in 
 agriculture, that, in all ages, it has held the first place 
 among the implements of that art; nor is there any na- 
 tion mentioned in history, who have attempted to culti- 
 vate the ground witliout it, excepting some barbarians 
 destitute of every art and science. And even these hav;c
 
 238 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 used something equivalent; some turning up the ground 
 with the horns ol oxen, and some with other things 
 equally unlit lor the purpose. These rude and barl)ar- 
 ous attcnips only show the great usefulness of the in- 
 strument proposed to be tl'eated of. 
 
 In modern thnes, the operation of tilling the ground 
 may be considered as wholly performed by the plough, 
 though ol tliis implement the varieties are numerous, 
 the eonsuuclion of eacli being in some respects analo- 
 gous to the kind of husbandry practised, and to the ex- 
 tent of mechanical knowledge possessed by the artisan. 
 In ancient times, it would appear that the plough was 
 considered as a rude instrument, requiring little art in 
 the construction, and unwonhy of philosophical atten- 
 tion. It was judged that any tiling would do tor execut- 
 ing such a clumsy operation as turning over the ground, 
 and tliat little nicety was required to form an implement 
 which was to be guided and directed by ignorant pea- 
 sants. Under these impressions, this useful utensil was, 
 for many centuries, made at random, and without the 
 slightest attention to principles, as is evident from the 
 dilference of impelling power called for when ditl'erent 
 ploughs were employed. The kind of work performed 
 was equally diversified. In many cases, tine lurrow was 
 imperfectly turned over, or laid up; and in others, the 
 under part of the slice was balked, or raftered, in such 
 a manner as to deprive the seeds that were sown of their 
 necessary nourishment. The expense of working defec- 
 tive implements was also an evil of magnitude ; it being 
 now sufficiently ascertained, that the improved ploughs 
 may be wrought at one half of the cost which attended 
 the barbarous and cumbersome implements of former 
 times. 
 
 The Roman people were excellent farmers, and, of 
 course, attentive to the construction of ploughs; but 
 after the northern nations overran and subjugated all 
 Europe, we do not find that any improvement was at- 
 tempted upon husbandry implements till the seventeenth 
 century, when Blythe and others took the subject under 
 consideration. In one of Biythe's pieces of improve- 
 ment, he discovers much knowledge of the several 
 ploughs then used in England ; and demonstrates, in a 
 forcible manner, the best way of making a plough, so 
 that the implement may be easily drawn, while the 
 ground is sufficiently worked. By that accurate agri- 
 culturist, a correct and minute account of the double 
 plough then used is also given. Many of our readers 
 will remember, that lord Somcrville, some years ago, 
 attempted to bring the double plough into fashion ; but 
 few of them periiaps know, that such an implement was 
 well known 150 years before his lordship recommended 
 it. We mention these circumstances, not with a view of 
 recommending double ploughs, but entirely to show the 
 knowledge which Blythe possessed of the subject. A 
 double plough can hardly, in any respect, be equal to 
 two swing ploughs of the improved kind, and in many 
 respects is vastly inferior, especially upon clay soils, 
 where the ground is wet, and the ridges acclivated. 
 Upon soft dry lands, a double plough may be employed 
 without loss, though without any benefit to those who 
 use it, if the comparison is made with well constructed 
 swing ploughs. A great variety of ploughs are used in 
 England, many of them confessedly of the same kinds 
 which have been employed for centuries past, and gene- 
 rally worked to the immense loss and disadvantage of 
 those who persist in the use of such implements. The 
 Rotherham plough was the first deviation from the prac- 
 
 tice of ancient times, being a neat, handy, implement', 
 easily worked, and calculated for tilling almost every 
 kind of soil; though still capable of being much im- 
 proved, as may alterwards be noticed. Tins plough is 
 used in most of the English northern counties; and from 
 being generally called the Dutch plough, we are led to 
 believe must originahy have been imported from Hol- 
 land. It was first constructed in Yorkshire, by Mr Jo- 
 seph Foljambe ol Eastwood, in the West Riding, who, 
 in 1720, obtained a patent for the invention, which he 
 afterwards sold to Mr Slanilijrth of I'irbeck. This gen- 
 tleman for some years gave liberty to farmers to con- 
 struct ploughs, upon paying him 2«. 6c/. for each; but 
 afterwards attempting to raise the premium to 7a. or 7s. 
 6rf., the validity of the patent was combated and set 
 aside, on the ground of its not being for a new invention, 
 but only lor a plough improved. 
 
 The dimensions and construction of this plough will 
 appear suKicicntly evident from the following descrip- 
 tion, and from Fig. 5. in Plate V. 
 
 Dimensions of tlie Bothcrham Plough. 
 ft- inch. 
 From the end of stilt B6, to point "^ 
 
 of the share G 7 4- J , , , 
 
 From the end of beam Aa, to >-"'^'°'« '^"S^''- 
 
 ditto of ditto O 3 J 
 
 Length of the beam AA . .60 
 Width of the head in the widest 
 
 part D 14 
 
 Ditto of ditto at E 9"] 
 
 Ditto of share behind the wing ( 
 
 at/ ^f t bottom work- 
 Length of surface on which the ■ iug surface. 
 
 plough touches the ground I 
 
 EG 2 loA J 
 
 Height from ground to top of 
 
 beam where coulter goes 
 
 through 18 
 
 Width between stilts at the end 
 
 BB 2 6 
 
 Height of ditto from the ground 1 1 1 
 Weight of wood and iron work, about 1^ cwt. 
 
 From this description, it will appear, that the Rother- 
 ham plough differs very much from the old common 
 ploughs; being more lightly and neatly constructed, and 
 having the coulter and share formed and placed so as to 
 raise, and then gradually turn over the new cut furrow 
 much cleaner, and with less resistance than the others. 
 It is not only capable of being worked with two horses 
 abreast, as is common in most counties where it is used, 
 but does the work in a superior way than when three or 
 more horses are yoked in a line, which is a custom too 
 prevalent in many places. The faults of this plough be- 
 long more to the manner in which it is wrought, than 
 to the principles on which it is constructed ; for, where 
 the horses are yoked in a line, it is necessary to turn the 
 beam considerably to tlie furrow, in order to give the 
 plough what is technically called land. Owing to this 
 erroneous way of placing the beam, the horses draw in a 
 contrary direction to the share and coulter, which makes 
 the plough go unsteady; and from the difference be- 
 twixt the direction of the draught, and the head on 
 which the share is fixed, the force of the resistance 
 must necessarily be increased, and the "work be imper- 
 fectly performed.
 
 AGRICULTURE, 
 
 23 y 
 
 Notwithstanding that the necessity of turning the 
 beam towards the furrow is solely owing to the custom 
 of yoking horses m a line, it may be observed, that, when 
 horses arc yoked abreast, the ploughs have all more or 
 less of the same direction. The sock or share is much 
 broader in the point, than is necessary, which makes 
 them difficult to work on gravelly soils, and even in clay, 
 when the ground is dry. 
 
 The practice of yoking horses in a line, is truly alj- 
 surd. Horses never work so easy, or draw so e(|ual, as 
 when yoked abreast, or in pairs, nor will the woi'k be 
 done well in any other manner; if the ground is in such 
 a situation as not to bear a horse on the unplonghed part, 
 it is unfit for labouring, and ought not to be tovichcd. 
 But this cannot be sustained as a reason for this prac- 
 tice, as it is customary in many places to employ three 
 horses in a line, sometimes even four, ploughing tender 
 clover leys. The plea of custom and prejudice is well 
 known, and can alone be assigned for such an absurd 
 and unprofitable practice. 
 
 We are clearly of opinion, that every part of plough- 
 work may be executed by two good horses, if they are 
 properly maintained. There is no question but where 
 land is hard and stiff, so much work cannot be done in a 
 given time as upon lighter soils. But this argument 
 will have the same weight whatever number of horses 
 are yoked : All we contend for is, that two good horses 
 yoked abreast, in a plough properly constructed, are able 
 to plough any ground when it is in a proper situation 
 for being wrought. 
 
 The Rothevham plough was introduced into Scotland 
 so early as 1730, by a Mr Lomax, or Lummis, who was 
 patronized by the Society of Scotch Improvers, and was 
 afterAvards constructed by a Mr Dalziel, near New Lis- 
 ton, in West Lothian ; a person sent, by the great John 
 ,Earl of Stair, to England, where he was taught, at his 
 lordship's expense, the best and most improved method 
 of constructing ploughs, and other husbandry imple- 
 ments. From a plate and explanation annexed to Max- 
 well's Collections, it appears, in the clearest manner, 
 that the plough introduced by Mr Lummis was exactly 
 similar to the one used in Yorkshii-e at this time, which 
 is usually called the Rotherham plough, a description of 
 which is already given. This is evident from Maxwell's 
 plate and explanation. 
 
 Fig. 1. Represents the left or land-side of the plough, 
 in which AB is the beam, CD the sheath, EBD the big 
 stilt, FR the little stilt, GH the coulter, KI the sock or 
 share, NP the bridle, S the slyband, "ML a piece of 
 wood in the place of a head. The figures of all these 
 different parts, as they appear on this side of the plough, 
 are here represented. 
 
 Fig. 2. Represents the right side of the plough, with 
 all the parts that can be seen on this side, in which TV 
 is the mouldy board, &c. 
 
 Fig. 3. Represents the under part of the plough, in 
 which may be seen the shape and size of the share, and 
 how it is fixed on the sheath and mouldy board, plough 
 sole, and mouldy board, &c. as they appear below, or 
 looking on the under side of the plough. 
 
 Fig. 4. Represents the upper view of the plough, or 
 as she tills, in which may be seen the several parts, as 
 they appear on this side, the bridle NP, mouldy board 
 TV, &c. in their several shapes and sizes. 
 
 Fig. 6. o. The upper part of the stock or share. 
 
 *, The sock, as it is fixed on the end of the sheath and 
 mouldy board. 
 
 c, The perspective of the bridle. 
 
 Fig. 7. Represents the higher part of the plough, iii 
 which arc seen the two stills EF, hinder part of the 
 mouldy board TV, and a piece ot wood in place of the 
 head LM, in their proper shapes and sizes. 
 
 The whole of this plough ought to be made of ash oi 
 elm ; the irons should be steeled and well tempered ; 
 and that part of the plough which is mider ground in 
 tilling ought to be covered with plates of iron. 
 
 TJie difference iietween this and the conmion ploughs, 
 seems to consist in the bridle at the end of the beam, 
 by which the ploughman can give the plough more or 
 less land by the notches at N in Fig. 3 and 4, or make 
 her plough deeper or shallower by the holes at P in 
 Fig. 1. and 2. ; in the coulter and share, which are made 
 and set so as to cut off the new furrow without tearing ; 
 and, in the mould-board, which is of such a fashion as 
 first to raise a little, and then gradually turn over the 
 new-cut furrow with the least resistance : and the advan- 
 tage attending such ploughs must be an easy draught ; 
 so that two horses are able to do the work of four, 
 which is found by experience to be the case on all ara 
 ble grounds. 
 
 We have been thus particular in our accounts of the 
 Rotherham plough, because its construction was the 
 first attempt to depart from the ancient system of work- 
 ing the soil, at a heavy expense, with large and cumber- 
 some implements. But though the Rotherham plough 
 was brought to Scotland only ten years posterior to the 
 date of Mr Foljambe's patent in England, yet the use 
 of it was adopted by very few people, till 1764, when it 
 underwent several alterations, and gradually came into 
 general practice. The first alterations were not of much 
 importance ; in fact, the chief one consisted in using a 
 chain, which at the best answered no purpose unless t() 
 strengthen the beam at a place where it seldom was 
 damaged. The head, and every part of the implement, 
 except the chain, muzzle, sock, and coulter, were of 
 wood, with the addition of a covering of thin plated iron 
 upon the mould-board, to prevent it from wearing. The 
 mould-board, from being straight, gradually assumed a 
 curved figure, till finally that important member of the 
 implement was made of cast metal, prepared at founde- 
 ries upon principles which, from practice, may be pro- 
 nounced correctly adjusted. The head, which was 
 formerly constructed of wood, and constantly needing 
 repair, is now also made of iron ; hence the share, or 
 sock, is kept steadily fixed when at work, which was 
 not the case when wooden heads were used. 
 
 These improvements were chiefly devised, and, in 
 the first instance, executed by Mr James Small, a per- 
 son to whom the agricultural interest of the country is 
 under great obligations ; he being, with the exceptions 
 of Messrs Lummis and Dalziel, the first artisan who 
 attempted to improve ploughs in Scotland upon mathe- 
 matical principles. The sock, or share, is made with 
 a fin, or feather, whereby the firm earth at the bottom 
 of the furrow is cut more completely than was practi- 
 cable by the sock of the old ploughs, which acted more 
 in the way of mining and forcing, than cutting and re- 
 moving the earth with facility or ease ; and the mould- 
 board being of cast metal, may be set wider or closer 
 according to the nature of the soil on which the plough 
 is to be used, or the height of the ridges that are to be' 
 ploughed. This implement is, therefore, the best con. 
 structed swing plough in the island ; and by means of 
 it a man and two horses will, with all case, plough an
 
 240 
 
 AGRICULTURE; 
 
 English acre per day, except in particular seasons, 
 tvhen the soil from drought has become hard and obsti- 
 nate. Wc have often seen a Scotch acre (one filth 
 larger than English measure) plou,;^hed in two jour- 
 neys, or nine hours' work ; but this was cither when the 
 land was seed furrowed, or with a soil of a loose and 
 friable nature. 
 
 The late lord Kamcs, in his Gentleman Farmer, says, 
 »' I boldly recommend a plough introduced mto Scot- 
 land about twelve years ago, by .Tames Small, which is 
 now in great request. This plough may be considered 
 as a capital improvement." Had his lordship lived a 
 few years longer, and noticed the improvement since 
 made on this valualjlc and useful implement, he would, 
 with greater justice, have been warranted to recom- 
 mend Mr Small's plough in the warmest manner. In 
 short, no kind of plough will cut the furrow so clean, 
 or turn it so nicely over for receiving benefit from the 
 atmosphere, and effect from the harrowing process ; 
 and, what is of greater importance, none are more easily 
 drawn, taking into account the quality of work that is 
 performed, than the one of which we are now speaking. 
 A great deal of its utility is determined by the strength 
 of the animals employed in the draught; by the dexte- 
 rity of the man to whom the management is committed ; 
 and by the order and condition in which the coulter and 
 share are preserved : For the best constructed imple- 
 ment will make bad work, when strength and dexterity 
 are wanting in the operator. But, under a parity of cir- 
 cumstances, it may be affirmed, that the swing plough, 
 brought into practice, and afterwards improved by Mr 
 Small, is fitted for executing work to better purpose 
 than any other of the numerous varieties of that imple- 
 ment employed in the several districts of Great Britain. 
 Fig. 8. plate V. represents this implement as used with 
 a chain ; though this appendage is now generally out of 
 use. 
 
 The mould-board, as well as the sheath, or head, is 
 now generally made of cast-iron, on the inside of which 
 is an uiscription, bearing Mr Small's name, the name 
 of the founders, (Cooper and Barker,) and, what is prin- 
 cipally intended, — the approbation of the Dalkeith Far- 
 mer Society. It is now universal over Scotland, and, 
 perhaps, were it better known in England, it might 
 come to displace the complicated ploughs, with wheels 
 and other trumpery, with which agriculture there is at 
 present encumbered ; as it is not apt to be put out of 
 order, but, simple in the construction, and effective in 
 operation, it is adapted to almost every situation. The 
 chain, connected with the muzzle, by which it is drawn, 
 fixed as far back as the coulter, is not essential to its 
 formation, serving merely to strengthen the beam, 
 which may be made stronger of itself at less expense, 
 while the tillage is as accurately performed with ploughs 
 that have none. The price is from 50s. to 60s. 
 
 Mr James Veitch of Inchbonny, near Jedburgh, an 
 ingenious artisan, has made very considerable improve- 
 ments on the plough, of which he has favoured the Edi- 
 tor with the following account: — " It is well known 
 to every practical farmer, that land, when properly 
 ploughed, must be removed from a horizontal position, 
 and twisted over to a certain angle, so that it may be 
 left in that inclining state, one furrow leaning upon ano- 
 ther, till the whole field be completely ploughed. The 
 depth and width of the furrow which is most approved 
 of by faiTtiers, and commonly to be met with in the best 
 ploughed fields, arc in the proportion of 2 to 0, or if 
 
 the furrow be two feet deep, it must be three wide, and 
 left hi an inclining position from 45'' to 46". Various 
 forms have been given to the different parts of the plough 
 by ingenious gentlemen and workmen, according to 
 their different fancies, in order to diminish the weight of 
 draught, and to turn over the furrow, and leave it in its 
 proper position without tearing or breaking it, and at 
 the same time to preserve nearly tlie original form of 
 the instrument ; but, unfortunately, no person has been 
 able sufficiently to accomplish these ends. Mr Small's 
 plough is by far the best known in this country, but the 
 perpendicular position of the sheath, and the too sud- 
 den twist of the sock and mould-board, together with 
 the mould-board not being a proper curve with respect 
 to the diflerent resistance that the sock and mould- 
 board will meet with in ploughing stiff land, render it, 
 in many respects, not so perfect an instrument as could 
 be wished for. As the sock and fore part of the mould- 
 board, entering first into the stifi' land, meet with the 
 greatest resistance, and consequently must wear soon- 
 est, to remedy this, I begin, for instance, at the point of 
 the sock, and bring it a great way farther forward than 
 that of Small's, and by this means give it a more oblique 
 position; which diminishes the angle of the furrow's 
 ascension from the horizontal to the vertical position. 
 The more this angle is diminished, where it meets with 
 the greatest resistance, the less apt will the plough be 
 to tilt out of the land ; and the nearer to the perpendicu- 
 lar the sheath and sock arc with respect to the sole of 
 the plough, the less hold will it take of the land, and it 
 will l)e more apt to start out. If the point of the sock 
 be not made to project a great way below the plane of 
 the sole, or point downwards toward the bottom of the 
 furrow, the ploughs that are made in this fashion grind 
 away the point of the sock below ; and, as this point is 
 so much inclined, and removed from a parallel position 
 with respect to the sole of the plough, it increases the 
 friction on that part, and makes the plough a great deal 
 more difficult to draw. This parallel position I have 
 preserved in my plough, as far as the strength of cast- 
 iron will admit ; and, as the furrows are laid pai-allcl one 
 to another, I have formed the sock, and that pan of the 
 mould-board, (where the furrow, by twisting over, is 
 brought to the perpendicular,) by cutting away the 
 mould-board pattern, in parallel lines, from the sole of 
 the plough to the top of the mould-board ; and, by these 
 means, I both procure a steadier motion for the plough, 
 and also dimmish the friction, by diminishing the an- 
 gle ; and consequently render it easier drawn, and less 
 apt to break tlie furrow by a sudden twist. It is of 
 great importance, in the formation of a plough, to have 
 the line of draught at right angles to the horses' shoul- 
 ders; a circumstance of which the greater part of 
 plough-makers are totally ignorant, although it is well 
 known to every one that has the least knowledge of me- 
 chanics. If we take the angle that the horses' shoul- 
 ders make with a perpendicular from the horizon, and 
 continue another line at right angles to it, or parallel to 
 the draught-chain, the length of this line, from the 
 horse's shoulder, to where it meets or crosses the coul- 
 ter, at half the depth of the furrow, will be 13 feet 2 
 inches for ordinary sized horses. If the plough be pro- 
 perly made, the line of draught should pass through the 
 middle hole of the plough-bridle, at the point of the 
 beam. This requires the beam (as will be seen by the 
 figure) to be no less than 7 feet long, to give it a proper 
 height at the bridle. This property I have strictly attend-
 
 AGKICULTL14K. 
 
 241 
 
 cd to in all the ploughs that I make ; althovigh, in gene- 
 ral, plough-beams are only 6 feet in length, anil sonic of 
 theni still shorter, which renders them very dinicult to 
 hold, and inferior, in other respects, to ploughs of a pro- 
 per length. I have likewise made that part of the plough 
 next the solid land a perfect plane, and to run parallel 
 with the line of draught; whereas some of the common 
 ploughs are completely twisted in that part, and deviate 
 more than 2 inches from the line of draught : This throws 
 the plough to the left, and causes the hinder part of the 
 mould-board to press hard against the furrow, and crush 
 and bi-eak it; besides increasing the labour of the cattle. 
 The position of the coulter must not deviate much ironi 
 the angle of 45°; for, if we make it more oblique, it 
 causes the plough to choke up with stubble and grass- 
 roots, by throwing them up against the beam ; and if 
 less oblique, it is apt to drive the stones or other obsta- 
 cles before it, and make it heavier to draw. 
 
 " In the framing of this plough, I have proportioned one 
 part to another, so that all parts of it may wear alike : the 
 iron-work is lixed on the plough simply, and at the 
 same time perfectly secure. I have likewise made a 
 spring-steelyard, somewhat after the form of Rcgnier's, 
 to determine the difference of draught between Small's 
 plough and the one which I have constructed. A trial 
 was made on the 1 8th of May last, on a piece of exceed- 
 ing stiff spratty lee, with two ploughs of Small's con- 
 struction, and one of mine, from which it appeared that 
 the weight of the draught of one of these ploughs was 36 
 stones English weight, and of the other 32, and that of 
 mine was 28. To account for the difference of draught 
 of these two ploughs of Small's construction, I can only 
 say, that the one must either have been longer used than 
 the other, or that they have been made by different work- 
 men."* 
 
 As many of our readers may be unacquainted with 
 the old Scots plough, the following description of that 
 ancient and unwieldy implement may not be unaccepta- 
 ble. Its several parts consisted of a head, a beam, a 
 sheath, a wrest, a mould-board, two handles or stilts, 
 which were connected by two sticks or pieces of v/ood, 
 called i-uuffs ; all these were of wood, but the sock and 
 coulter, with two shoes on the sole and side of the wrest, 
 were of iron. The purposes of these different parts 
 were as follows. The head and sock opened the land 
 below, the coulter cut the surface, the wrest and mould- 
 board raised the earth, and turned it over, the beam fix- 
 ed the draught, and kept the several parts together, and 
 by the handles the plough was managed and directed. 
 The sock, or share, was of a spiked form, and acted as a 
 miner, not cutting the furrows square in the bottom, as 
 must be the case with the ploughs now in use, when pro- 
 perly constructed. 
 
 From this description, the defects of the old Scots 
 plough may easily be ascertained. Owing to the way 
 in which the sock or share opci'ated, a great deal of the 
 ground was left to be turned over by the wrest; and 
 this part acted as a forcer, without having inlluence to 
 accomplish the operation unless when impelled by con- 
 siderable strength. The necessity of having a strong 
 impelling power to execute the work sufficiently, in- 
 fluenced the ploughman, in most cases, to keep the 
 wrest upwards, by which means he lessened the quanti- 
 ty of power that was required to carry forward the 
 
 draught, though by acting in this way, he rendered the 
 work executed proporlionably defective; as in such in- 
 stances it was baulked bi-lovv, and imperfectly shoulder- 
 ed upon the surface. Tlicse defects were suilicientiy 
 asccrtahied, when attempts were made to lessen the size 
 of the old Scots plough, and to work the implement 
 with two horses instead of three or four, the number 
 usually employed in former times. Even the improved 
 Kotherham plough was in some respects similarly defi- 
 cient, till the mould-board received a greater curve, and 
 was placed lower down, and more upon a level with the 
 heel, than was usually tlie case at its first introduction. 
 Uad and lazy ploughmen at all times are disposed to keep 
 the furrow side up, thereby baulking the ground lessor 
 more, m.erely that the draught may sit easier upon the 
 horses, without reflecting upon the serious injury occa- 
 sioned to the soil, and consequently to the crops. 
 
 The old Scots plough was, however, favourable for 
 working strong land, and for all lands recently brought 
 under cultivation. At the time it was used, therefore, 
 no other could be worked perhaps with equal advantage. 
 From this consideration, it may be retained with pro- 
 priety in certain parts of the country, where improve- 
 ments are only in their infancy ; though in every other, 
 where any thing like perfect cultivation has been intro- 
 duced, the improved Rotherham plough may be used 
 with infinitely greater advantage. It will be attended 
 with a saving to the farmer, and to the country, of no 
 small importance. Two horses in the latter will nearly 
 plough as much ground as four in the former, and in our 
 opinion to much better purpose when the implement is 
 properly constructed. Now, the expense of keeping two 
 horses is not less than sixty pounds /if r annum, besides 
 the wages and board of a driver, which at least will 
 amount to twenty pounds more. It is more owing to 
 causes of this nature, than to any increase in the price 
 of produce, that the rent of land has increased so pro- 
 digiously. The plough and thrashing machine are the 
 two capital implements of husbandry ; and to the im- 
 provement upon the one, and the introduction of the 
 other, the proprietors of land are in a great measure in- 
 debted for the increased value of their property. How 
 much is it to be lamented, that the merits of the two 
 men who improved and introduced these implements 
 have not been duly considered and rewarded ! Had 
 this been done, a debt, not recoverable in a law court, 
 would have been discharged, and encouragement held 
 out to other ingenious mechanics or artisans to exert 
 their endeavours in making improvements upon every 
 implement already in use, and in devising new ones of 
 greater powers and capacities for executing the differ- 
 ent branches of rural labour. 
 
 Wheel ploughs are much in vogue in several English 
 counties, though not used in Scotland, except in some 
 parts of Kincardine and Aberdeen shires, where they 
 were introduced by the late Mr Barclay of Urie. That 
 ploughs of this description may do very well upon flat 
 sandy soils, we entertain no doubt; nay, that they may 
 be guided by ploughmen less skilful than those intrust- 
 ed with the management of swing or sledge ploughs, 
 we mean not to question. Still it has always appeared 
 to us, that so much additional resistance must be created 
 by the action of the wheels, especially when the surface 
 is soft, as is sufficient to counteract, and even to exceed 
 
 • Mr Veitch's ploug'h lias been examined by a committee of the Highland Society of Scotland, who were so satisfied of its superior 
 merits, as to adjudge a liandsome premium to the inventor. Ed. 
 
 Vol, I. Part I. H h
 
 242 
 
 AGKICULTUIIE. 
 
 any benefit gained fiom the steadiness of drauglit, or 
 the equality of breadth and depth of the furrow taken. 
 With respect to wheel ploughs, our opinion is not very 
 diifercnt from the one given by lord Karnes. That 
 respectable agriculturist viewed them as trifles, de- 
 scribing the pivots of the wheels as constantly going 
 wrong, and, on account of their being frequently choked 
 with earth, as increasuig the friction instead of diminish- 
 ing it. 
 
 Besides the improved Rotherham plough, now in ge- 
 neral use, and worked by two horses, another imple- 
 ment, constructed upon the same principles, but of 
 smaller dimensions, and considerably lighter, is used for 
 cleaning beans, potatoes, and turnips. This plough, 
 (See Fig. 10. Plate V.) wrought by one horse, does llie 
 business completely. It is of advantage to put a piece 
 of plate iron betwixt the coulter and sheath or head, 
 that the loose earth may not fall through upon the young 
 plants. A horse hoc, called a scraper, is also used to 
 clean drilled crops on light soils, and is very efficacious 
 when annual weeds are to be destroyed ; but when (juick- 
 en or other root weeds are in the ground, a deeper fur- 
 row is required, and in that case the light Rotherham 
 plough becomes necessary. 
 
 Mr Jefferson, president of the United States of Ame- 
 rica, who has cultivated the study of agriculture with 
 considerable success, has given the following descrip- 
 tion of a plough-ear, which we shall lay before our rea- 
 ders in his own words. 
 
 The body of a plough ouglit not only to be the con- 
 tinuation of the wingoftlic sock, Ijcginning at its poste- 
 I'ior edge, but it must also be in the same piano. Its 
 first function is to receive horizontally from the sock 
 the earth, to raise it to the height proper for being 
 tiu-ned over; to present in its passage the trust jxossible 
 resistance, and consequently to require only the mbii- 
 mum of moving power. Were its functions confined to 
 this, the wedge would present, no doubt, the properest 
 form for practice ;* but the object is also to turn over the 
 sod of earth. One of the edges of the ear ought then 
 to have no elevation, to avoid an useless wasting of 
 force; the other edge ought, on the contrary, to go on 
 ascending until it has passed the perpendicular, in or- 
 der that the sod may be inverted by its own weight; and 
 to obtain this effect with the least possible resistance, 
 the inclination of the ear must increase gradually from 
 the moment that it has received the sod. 
 
 In this second function the ear acts then like a wedge 
 situated in an oblique direction or ascending, the point 
 of which recedes horizontally on the earth, while the 
 other end continues to rise till it passes the perpendicu- 
 lar. Or, to consider it under another point of view, let 
 \is place on the ground a wedge, the breadth of which is 
 equal to that of the sock of the plough, and which in 
 length is equal to the sock from the wing to the poste- 
 rior extremity, and the height of the heel is equal to the 
 thickness of the sock : draw a diagonal on the upper sur- 
 face from the left angle of the point to the angle on the 
 right of the upper part of the heel; slope the face by 
 making it bevel from the diagonal to the right edge. 
 
 which touches the earth: this half will evidently be tlie 
 properest form for discharging the reqiiircd functions, 
 namely, to remove and turn over gradually the sod, and 
 with the least force possible. If the left of the diagonal 
 be sloped in the same manner, that is to say, if we sup- 
 pose a straight line, the length of which is equal at least 
 to that of the \\'edge, applied on the face already sloped, 
 and moving backwards on tliat face, parallel to itself, and 
 to the two ends of the wedge, at the same time that its 
 lower end keeps itself always along the lower end of the 
 right face, the result will be a curved surface, the essen- 
 tial character of which is, that it will be a combination 
 of the principle of the wedge, considered according to 
 two directions, which cross each other, and will give 
 what we require, a plough-ear presenting the least pos- 
 sible resistance. 
 
 This ear, besides, is attended with the valuable advan- 
 tage, that it can be made by any common workman by a 
 process so exact that its form will not vary the thickness 
 of a hair. One of the great faults of this essential part of 
 the plough is the want of precision, because workmen 
 having no other guide than the eye, scarcely two of them 
 are similar. 
 
 It is easier, indeed, to construct with precision the 
 plough-ear in question, when one has seen the method 
 wliich furnishes the means once put hi practice, than to 
 describe the method by the aid of language, or to repre- 
 sent it by figures. I shall, however, try to give a dc-' 
 scription of it. 
 
 Let the proposed breadth and depth of the furrow, as 
 well as the length of the head of the plough, from its 
 junction with the wing to its posterior end, be given, for 
 these data w'ill determine the dimensions of the block 
 from which the ear of the plough must be cut. Lotus 
 suppose the breadth of the furiow to be 9 inches, the 
 depth 6, and the length of the head two feet; the block 
 then (Plate VI. Fig. 1.) must be 9 inches in breadth at 
 its base be, and 13 t inches at its sunnnit ad ; for, if ir 
 had at the top only the breadth a e equal to that of th(* 
 base, the sod, raised in a perpendicular direction, would, 
 by its own elasticity, fall back into the furrow. The ex- 
 perience which I have acquired in my own land, has 
 proved to me, that in a height of 12 inclies the elevation 
 of the ear ought to go beyond the perpendicular 4^ 
 inches, which gives an angle of about 20i°, in order that 
 the weight of the sod may in all cases overcome its elas- 
 ticity. The block must be 12 inches in height ; because 
 if the height of the car were not equal to twice the depth 
 of the furrow, when friable and sandy earth is tilled, it 
 would pass the ear, rising up like waves. It must be in 
 length 3 feet, one of which wall serve to form the tail that 
 fixes the car to the stilt of the plough. 
 
 The first operatirm consists in forming this tail by 
 sawing the block (Fig. 2.) across from « to 6 on its left 
 side, and at the distance of 12 inches from the end f g; 
 then continue the notch perpendicularly along b c till 
 within an inch and a half of its right side ; then taking 
 {/ 2 and e /i, each equal 1^ inch, make a mark with the 
 saw along the line d e, parallel to the right side. The 
 piece abed efg will fall of itself, and leave the tail 
 
 * If the object were merely to raise the sod of earth to a friven height by a determinate lenjfth of ear, witliout turning it over, the form 
 which would give tlic least resistance would not be exactly tliat of a wcdg'e with two plane faces ; but the upper face ought to be curvi. 
 linear, according to the laws of the solid of least resistance described l)y mathematicians. But in this case the difference between the 
 eflcct of the wedge with a curved face, and tliat of a wedge with a jjlane face, is so small, and it would be so difiicult for workmen to 
 "construct the former, thnt the v.'cdg'e M'ilh a phnc face oitght to be preferred in practice, as the first clement of otir method of constfuc- 
 (iin.
 
 AGRICULTUKE. 
 
 24; 
 
 o''rf eh i k, an inch and a half in ihickncss. It is of the 
 interior part a b c k I m ti of the block, that the ear must 
 be formed. 
 
 By means of a square, trace out on all the faces ol the 
 block lines at an inch distance from eacli other, of which 
 there will necessarily be 23 : then draw the diagonals 
 k III (Fig. 3.) on the upper face, and k o on that which 
 is situated on the right; make the saw enter at the point 
 wt, directing it towards k, and making it descend along 
 ' the line in I until it mark out a straight line between k 
 and / (Fig. 5.); then make the saw enter at the point o, 
 and, preserving the direction o k, make it descend along 
 the line o / until it meet with the central diagonal k I, 
 which had been formed Ijy the first cut: the pyramid 
 k m n I (Fig. 4.) will fall of itself, and leave tiie block 
 in the form represented by Fig. 5. 
 
 It is here to be observed, that in the last operation, in- 
 stead of stopping tiie saw at the central diagonal k I, if 
 we had continued to nutch the block, keeping on tlie 
 same plane, the wedge / m n o k b (Fig. 3.) would have 
 been taken away, and there would have remained ano- 
 ther wedge I k b a r, which, as I observed before, in 
 speaking of the principle in regard to the construction 
 of the ear, would exhibit the most perfect form, were 
 the only object to raise the sod; but as it must also be 
 turned over, the left half of the upper wedge has been 
 preserved, in order to continue, on the same side, the 
 bevel to be formed on the right half of the lower wedge. 
 
 Let us now proceed to the means of producing this 
 bevel; in order to obtain which, we had the precaution 
 to trace out lines around the block before we removed 
 the pyramid (Fig. 4.). Care must be taken not to con- 
 found these lines, now that they arc separated by the 
 vacuity left Ijy the suppression of that pyramid (Fig. 5.) 
 Make the saw enter in the two points of tlie first line, 
 situated at the places where the latter is interrupted, 
 and which are the two points where it is intersected by 
 the external diagonals o k and in k, continuing the stroke 
 on that first line till it reach on the one hand the central 
 diagonal k /, and on the other the lower right edge o h, 
 of the block (Fig. 5.): the posterior end of the saw will 
 come out at some point situated on the upper trace in a 
 straight line with the corresponding points of the edge 
 and the central diagonal. Conliime to do the same thing 
 on all the points formed by the intersection of the exte- 
 
 rior diagonals and lines traced out around the block, 
 taking always the central diagonal, and the edge o /; as 
 the term, and tiic traces as directors: the result will be^ 
 that when you have formed several cuts with the saw, 
 the end of that instrument, which came out before at the 
 upper face of the block, will come out at the face situ- 
 ated on the left of the latter; and all these diflcrent 
 cuts of the saw will have marked out as many straight 
 lines, which, extending from the lower edge & h of the 
 block, will proceed to cut the central diagonal. Now 
 by the help of any proper tool, remove the sawn parts-, 
 taking care to leave visible the traces of the saw, and 
 this face of the ear will be finished.* The traces will 
 serve to show how the wedge which is at the right angle 
 rises gradually on the direct or lower face of the wedge, 
 the inclination of vvhich is preserved in the central dia- 
 gonal. One may easily conceive and render sensible 
 the manner in which the sod is raised on the ear, which 
 we have described, by tracing out on the ground a pa- 
 rallelogram two feet long and nine inches broad, as a b od 
 (Fig. 6.): then placing in the point b the end of a stick 
 27- inches in length, and raising the other end 12 inches 
 above the point c ; (the line d c, equal to 4i Inches, re- 
 presents the quantity which the height of "the car ex- 
 ceeds the perpendicular.) When this is done, take ano- 
 ther stick 12 inches in length, and, placing it on a 6, 
 make it move backwards, and parallel to itself from a b 
 to c d, taking care to keep one of its ends always on the 
 line a d ; while the other end moves along the stick b i\ 
 which here represents the central diagonal. The mo- 
 tion of this stick of 12 inches in length will be that of 
 our ascending wedge, and will show how each trans- 
 verse line of the sod is carried from its first horizontal 
 position until it be raised to a height which exceeds the 
 perpendicular so much as to make it fall inverted by its 
 own weight. 
 
 But to return to our operation : — it remains to con- 
 struct the lower part of the ear. Invert the block, and 
 make the saw enter at the points where line a I (Fig. 9.) 
 meets with the traces, and continue your stroke along 
 these traces until both ends of the saw approach within 
 an inch, or any other convenient thickness, of the oppo- 
 site face of the ear. When the cuts are finished, re- 
 move, as before, the sawn pieces, and the ear will be 
 finished. t 
 
 * A better idea of the resiill of tlie operation here described, may be conceived from tlic two figures 9 and 10, uLicIi were orig-iiially 
 drawn in perspective by M. A'alencienne, assistant naturalist to tlie Museum jVntionai d'//htuii-e JWiturelle. .Suppose the saw cuts the 
 lines m t,ok (Fig. 9.) in the points x .and (, taken in the traces .v (^ and t s, situated in the same plane, parallel to i u n r, and the pro- 
 longations of whicli, on the triangles m i I and o /• I, are the lines a z and t z ; the saw must then penetrate the block remaining in the 
 plane in question until its edge has arrived at Ibe point s, and at the same time touch the point z of the central diagonal tl. T!ie same 
 edge of the saw will come out at some point j; of the face vii I, so that the three points*. z,y, will be iu the same straight line. But if 
 this oper.ation be repealed in different places of the lines ni k, uib from /■ to a certain height, the points of the face )« i i, at which the 
 saw comes out, will form a curve i y n. Eevond this height the saw, ahva) s directed iu sucli a manner that at the end of its motion it 
 shall touch at the same time llie edge o h and the central diagonal I: I, will come out at other points situ.itcd on the posterior face abrnl, 
 and the series of these jioints will form a second curve n I which will meet the first in the point n. These two curves being traced out, 
 let us suppose straight lines drawn to the places where the saw stopped each time that it touched the di.igonal i I, and of which one, :is 
 already said, passes through the points s, z,y ; and let us conceive a surface touching all these straight lines, and whose limits, on the 
 one hand, shall be the curves I' y n, n I, and on the other the edge o h, this siu-tiice, wliich must be ui'ico^ered bj- sections made with a 
 proper instrument, will firm one of the faces of the ear. The latter is represented Fig. 10 and the face in question is that which ap- 
 pears before, and wliich is indicated by in I or. It will be remarked, that the ang-le situ.atcd towards It (Fig. 9.) on the part icdieh 
 of the block has also been cut ofi' by a section made from d to r, agreeably to what will be said hereafter. 
 
 f \Ve shall here .add to this description an illustration similar to that given in regard to the anterior face of the ear- The thickness 
 of tlie latter being detei-miiied by th.at of the part tcdieh (Fig. 9.), or, what amounts to the same thing, by the length of the lines c t, 
 d i, e h, let us first conceive that there has been traced out, |)roceeding from the point c, the curve cup parallel to ty n, and tlien pro- 
 ceeding from tlie point p, the curve p & parallel to / «. Let us next suppose th.at the s.aw cuts the edge n / of the face abmt in the 
 point (T, situated in the same plane as x ^ and ts, which plane has been taken for example in regard to the anterior fice of the ear The 
 saw must be directed along the traces J^ and is in such a manner, that its motion shall stop at the term where its edge on the one hand 
 shall touch the curve cp in the point u situated on the trace x z, ami on tlic other shall be situated parallel to the line s zy at which the 
 saw stopped on the otlier side of the ear. The edge of the saw will then cut tlie f.ice nlor iu some p ilnl =, so situated tliat the straight 
 line dr.awn through that point and the point u shall be parallel to the straight hue wliich passes thi ou'^b the point s, z, r. If you conti- 
 
 H h 2
 
 244 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 It is fixed to the plough by niortising the fore part 
 
 b (P"ig. 5. and 10.) into the posterior end of the sock, 
 which must be made double, like the case of a comb, 
 that it may receive and secure this fore part of the ear. 
 A screw-nail is then made to pass through the ear and 
 the handle of the sock at the place of their contact, and 
 two other screw-nails pass through the tail of the ear 
 and the right handle of the plough. The part of the 
 tail which passes beyond the handle must be cut dia- 
 gonally, and the work will be finished. 
 
 In describing this operation 1 have followed the sim- 
 plest course, that it may be more easily conceived; but 
 
 1 have been taugiit, by practice, that it requires some 
 useful modifications. Thus, instead of beginning to 
 form the block as represented abed (Fig. 7.), where a b 
 is 12 inches in length, and the angle at 6 is a right one, 
 I cut oft' towards the bottom, and along the whole length 
 4 c of the block, a wedge bee, the line / being equal to 
 the thickness of the bar of the sock (vviiich I suppose to 
 be \\ inch) ; for, as the face of the wing incUncs from 
 the bar to the ground, if the block were placed on the 
 sock, without taking into the account this inclination, 
 the side a b would lose its perpendicular direction, and 
 the side a d would cease to be horizontal. Besides, in- 
 stead of leaving at the top of the block a breadth of 13^ 
 inches from m to n (Fig. 8.), 1 remove from the right 
 side a kind of wedge nkic p n of 1 J inch in thickness ; 
 because experience has shown me, that the tail, which 
 by these means has become more oblique, as c ; instead 
 of k i, fits more conveniently to the side of the handle. 
 The diagonal of the upper face is consequently removed 
 back from k to c ; and we have m e instead of ?n k, as 
 above. These modifications may be easily comprehend- 
 ed by those acquainted with the general principle. 
 
 In the different experiments to which ears have been 
 subjected, to determine the quantity by which the right 
 upper side of the block passes beyond the perpendicu- 
 lar, and to fix the relation between the height and the 
 depth of the furrow, they were made only of wood ; but 
 since my experiments have convinced mc, that for a 
 furrow 9 inches broad and 6 in depth, the dimensions I 
 have given are the best, I propose in future to have the 
 ears made of cast iron. 
 
 To any one who has been in the habit of seeing every 
 kind of soil ploughed, in the completest manner, by an 
 improved sowing plough, drawn by two horses, it must 
 appear highly absurd, that the lightest soils of Middle- 
 sex, Surry, and many other English counties, should be 
 worked by 5 or 6 strong horses, yoked to a ponderous 
 unwieldy implement, whilst after all, the furrow taken 
 by an implement provided with an impelling power of 
 such magnitude is generally of less depth than the one 
 taken by the improved plough drawn only by two horses. 
 The difference of expense in these two cases, must at 
 least amount to twenty shillings per acre in favour of 
 farmers who use the improved sowing plough ; and this 
 may be given as one of many reasons, why the rent of 
 land is so much lower in England than in Scotland. 
 There are several obstacles to the improvement of 
 agriculture which farmers cannot remove ; but to pur- 
 riiase proper implements, and to work them in a suitable 
 jnanner, is certainly within the power of every one. It 
 
 therelore appears surprising, that a great proportinn of 
 English farmers are so obstinately wedded to ancient 
 customs and prejudices, as to persist iu a practice, 
 which, whilst it does no good to themselves, is higlily 
 pernicious to the interests of agriculture and the pros- 
 perity of the state. A spirit of inquiry, however, has 
 now gone abroad, and it is to be hoped, that the conse- 
 quences thereof will serve to correct tne above and other 
 errors. So many English farmers have of late visited 
 Scotland, and made sedulous inquiries respecting the 
 practical husbandry of that couniiy as inclines us to be- 
 lieve, that improvements in one part of the island will 
 soon be diffused over the whole. But a stronger reason 
 for inducing us to think that the number of horses used 
 in a plough will shortly be lessened, may be gathered 
 from the desire manifested by many Englisli proprietors 
 to obtain rents of a similar extent to those paid to their 
 Scottish brethren. It is obvious that this cannot happen, 
 so long as the produce of land is wasted and consumed 
 by a parcel of idle or superfluous horses; therefore it 
 will not give us surprise to be informed, that long teams 
 were interdicted by English proprietors, and that they 
 refused to accept of a tenant, who did not previously 
 bind and oblige himself to use the improved sowing 
 plough drawn by two horses; which implement, with 
 the exception of the thrashing machine, may justly be 
 reckoned the greatest boon hitherto bestowed on British 
 agriculture. 
 
 Sect. II. 
 
 Harrows, 
 
 These benefical implements are of various sizes, and 
 dimensions ; but the harrow most commonly used con- 
 sists of four bulls, with cross mortised sheaths, each bull 
 containing five teeth, of from five to seven inches in 
 length below tlie bulls, the longest being placed for- 
 wards. Harrows of this kind, drawn by one horse, are 
 generally used on most farms for all purposes, though 
 on others large brake harrows consisting of five bulls, 
 each containing six teeth, and worked by two horses, are 
 employed during the fallow process, and for reducing 
 rough land. Some of these brake harrows are con- 
 structed with joints, so as to bend, and accommodate 
 their shape to the curvature of ridges. A small har- 
 row with short teeth is also used for covering grass 
 seeds, though we have rarely seen any detriment from 
 putting grass seeds as deep into the ground as the teeth 
 of ordinary sized harrows are capable of going. 
 
 The object of harrowing being both to drag out 
 quicken weeds, and to cover the seed when sown, it is 
 obvious that implements of different sizes are not only 
 necessary, but even that these implements should be 
 worked in different ways, according to the strength and 
 condition of the soil on which they are employed, and 
 tlie nature of the work to be executed. When employed 
 to reduce a strong obdurate soil, not more than two 
 should be yoked together, because they are apt to ride 
 and tumble upon each other, and thus impede the work, 
 and execute it imperfectly. It may also be remarked, 
 that on rough soils, harrows ought to be driven as fast 
 as the horses can walk ; because tlieir effect is in direct 
 
 luie ill the same manner, cutting with the saw different points of the edge a I, those by which it comes ont will form on the face a I or 
 a curve t/j.^; and if thi-uugli these points, and those corresponding to them in the lines c p,p^, theie will be drawn straight lines, such 
 as that which passes through tiie points i, u, and which we have taken as an example, the surface touching these straight lines, and un- 
 covered by means of .any sharp instrument, will form the remainder ehol^ft t of the plane n / or, the posterior face of the ear, sucbos 
 19 vf presented Fig. 10.
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 245 
 
 proportion to the degree of velocity witli which they arc 
 driven. In ordinary cases, and in every case, where har- 
 rowing is meant lor covernig the seed, three liarrows 
 arc the best yoite, because they lill up the ground more 
 effectually, and leave fewer vacancies, than when a 
 smaller number is employed. The harrow-man's at- 
 tention, al the seed process, should be constantly direct- 
 ed to prevent these implements from riding upon 
 each other, and to keep them clear of every impediment, 
 from stones, lumps of earth, or clods, and quickens or 
 grass roots ; for any of these prevents the implement 
 from working witli perfection, and causes a mark or 
 trail upon the surface, always unplcasing to the eye, and 
 generally detrimental to the braird or vegetation of the 
 seed. Harrowing is usually given in different directions, 
 first in length, then across, and finally in length as at 
 first. Careful husbandmen study, in the finishing part 
 of the process, to have the harrows drawn in a straight 
 line, without suffering the horses to go in a zig-zag 
 manner, and are also attentive that the horses enter 
 fairly upon the ridge, without making a curve at the 
 outset. In some instances, an excess of harrowing has 
 been found very prejudicial to the succeeding crop; but 
 it is always necessary to give so much as to break the 
 furrow, and level the surface, otherwise the operation is 
 uiiperfectly performed. 
 
 Sect. III. 
 
 ^ On Rollers. 
 
 The roller is an implement frequently used for 
 smoothing the surface of land when in tillage, especially 
 when tlie processes of summer fallow are going forward. 
 Several kinds of rollers are used in Britain. Some are 
 made of stone, others of wood, according to the nature 
 of the operation intended to be performed. The only 
 material difference in rollers is their weight ; but it 
 should be attended to, when a roller is made of large 
 diameter, that its weight ought to be the greater ; for 
 in proportion to the largeness of its diameter, will be the 
 extent of surface upon which the roller rests. The 
 weight of a roller ought therefore to be in proportion to 
 its diameter, otherwise its effect will be proportionably 
 diminished. 
 
 Rolling, however, is a modern improvement, and used 
 for different purposes. In the first place, it is of great 
 advantage to roll young grasses after the ground is 
 stoned, because the sithe can then be placed nearer 
 the surface, and the crop cut more equally than when 
 the operation is neglected. 2dly, Land on which tur- 
 nips are to be cultivated can rarely be made fine enough, 
 without the repeated use of this implement. And, 3dly, 
 The process of summer fallow, upon strong soils, is 
 much advanced by rolling, because, without its aid, the 
 large and obdurate clods cannot be reduced, or couch- 
 grass ei'adicated. From these ciixumstances it will 
 readily appear, that rollers of various sizes and diinen- 
 sions are required on every farm, for accomplishing dif- 
 ferent purposes. Wooden rollers, drawn by one horse, 
 answer very well for grass and turnip land ; but massy 
 stone rollers, drawn either by two or three horses, are 
 absolutely necessary on clay soils. Most farms are im- 
 perfectly provided with these impleinents. Every one 
 may have them smaller or larger, but few are provided 
 with a sufficient number. It is obvious, that when a 
 large field is to be rolled, a number of rollers ought at 
 «nce to be set at work, otherwise an opportunity may be 
 
 lost, never to be regained. The deficiency is most con- 
 spicuous, when barley is taken after turnips in a dry 
 season. From poaching the ground witli carts, in or- 
 der to carry off the crop, and even by the treading of 
 sheep, a degree of stiffness is contracted, which requires 
 the use of the roller before grass seeds can be sown. 
 Suppose that a field so circumstanced should have got 
 two-thirds of the intended harrowing, and that liie re- 
 mainder is reserved till rolling is given, a delay takes 
 place at all events before grass seeds can be sown ; and 
 where only one roller is employed, that delay may be in- 
 creased to such a length as to endanger both barley and 
 seeds, should wetness intervene before the whole opera- 
 tions are completed. 
 
 On all occasions it is most beneficial to roll across, 
 because, when going in length, the implement is of 
 small benefit to the furrows, the slightest acclivation of 
 the ridges preventing the work from being equally per- 
 formed. The expedition which takes place when rol- 
 lers are used, compared with the tedious and expensive 
 process of breaking clods with malls, formerly the gen- 
 eral custom, sufficiently proves the importance of these 
 implements, though it deserves to be remarked, that, 
 when rolling is bestowed upon a spring-sown field, har- 
 rowing it afterwards is of great advantage. By harrow- 
 ing when the clods are reduced, the earth stands the 
 effects of rain better afterwards, and does not con- 
 solidate so firmly as when that process is neglected. 
 
 Sect. IV. 
 
 On Wheel Carriages used in Husbandry. 
 
 To drive out manure, bring home corn from the field, 
 and carry it to market, after beuig separated from the 
 straw, are operations which, on arable farms, occupy one- 
 fourth of the labour at least. To employ carriages, 
 therefore, that are calcvdated to execute these opera- 
 tions with the greatest facility, and at the least pos- 
 sible expense, would seem to be a matter of rural 
 economy highly deserving of serious consideration. 
 This circumstance, however, does not weigh so much 
 with the farmer as it ought to do ; hence we notice, in 
 many districts, that wheel carriages are clumsily con- 
 structed, often of inconvenient dimensions, and rarely 
 adapted to the nature of the work to be executed, or the 
 condition of the roads over which they are conveyed. 
 In England this is particularly the case ; heavy wagons 
 being, in numerous instances, employed to perform 
 branches of rural labour, which would be much more 
 easily and cheaply executed by small carts. In fact, 
 wagons are of no benefit in agriculture, unless a long 
 drive is to be taken. To load and unload them is dif- 
 ficult. Much time is unnecessarily consumed, especially 
 when the taking out of manure is the work to be per- 
 foiTned ; while in everv case these heavy carriages prove 
 destructive to the roads, and entail an expense on the 
 public, chiefly on agriculturists, of incalculable mag- 
 nitude. 
 
 Even the long carts, mounted on narrow wheels, and 
 seven feet long, often used in England, are inconvenient 
 for husbandry purposes, and detrimental to the roads. 
 These carts, which are drawn by three horses, generally 
 yoked in a line, cannot be set up, when loaded with 
 manure, half so easily as the ccjufi carts of Scotland ; 
 indeed, in many cases it is never attempted to draw the 
 manure out of them ; the driver, mounted on the top, dis- 
 loadingthe carriage with a grape or shovel, according to
 
 246 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 circumstances. It is not necessary to enlarge on these 
 inconveniences, because every agriculturist, not obsti- 
 nately bigoted to ancient usages, will at once discern 
 their extent, and acknowledge, that a remedy would be 
 higiily desirable. 
 
 Tlie most useful kind of carts, for the general pur- 
 poses of farming, are those used in the low couutry dis- 
 tricts of Scotland. These carls contain, within the 
 boards, somewhat more than a cubic yard ; but wlun 
 heaped with dung, will carry 1^ yards with ease. The 
 wheels, generally 54. inches in height, are mounted upon 
 iron axle-trees, which, by diminishing the friction, and 
 lessening the resistance, renders tliem more easily 
 drawn. Formerly, tlie wheel, from a mistaken principle, 
 was much dished ; but a better knowledge of mechanics 
 has occasioned that error to be rectified ; the spokes of 
 the wheel being perpendicular to the axis, and the cir- 
 cmnference pressing in that direction fiom all sides 
 towards the centre, and wheels move equally and 
 smoothly roimd ; whereas formerly, when the circum- 
 ference was so much without the centre, the wheels, in 
 place of touching the axle-tree equally, and moving 
 round smoothly, formed a kind of angle with it, which 
 considerably increased the resistance, and destroyed the 
 axle and bushes. See Ferguson's Lectures, Appendix, 
 vol. ii. p. 295. 
 
 When corn or hay is to be brought home from the 
 field, a long cart, open spoked, and lightly constructed, 
 is placed upon the wheels of the cart already mentioned ; 
 and none seems better adapted for such purposes, be- 
 cause none are better calculated to admit of a large load 
 with the least possible trouble to the driver, and to the 
 horses. The only improvement called for on these carts, 
 is lining them close on the bottom, and partially on the 
 sides, with thin boards, whereby much grain would be 
 saved that is now dropped on the road, or wasted in the 
 stack-yard. The expense of lining them in this way 
 would be trifling, and the additional weight thereby 
 given to the horses inconsiderable. 
 
 The carts which we have described as used for farm 
 purposes in Scotland, are almost in every case wrought 
 by two horses, though several farmers employ smaller 
 ones, drawn by one horse, for driving corn to market, 
 which is considered as being the most profitable method. 
 Though little doubt can be entertained on this pomt, 
 when the cart is to travel on a regular made road, yet 
 it may safely be questioned, whether one-horse carts can 
 \\ith propriety be recommended for the general home 
 work of a farm, where roads are generally bad, where 
 often none are made, and where the cart has to travel 
 over a ploughed field, sinking four or five inches at one 
 place, and impeded by large clods at another. Under 
 such circumstances, an additional horse seems to be re- 
 qitisite, especially when the weight of the draught sinks 
 the carriage down, and thus lessens the powers of the 
 shaft horse, and renders him unable to get forward. Un- 
 der these circumstances, the second horse, if yoked in a 
 line, is able to do more tlian tlie one in the shafts, be- 
 cause, when the carriage sinks into the soil, the line of 
 direction of the draught is materially altered. In every 
 other case, we are quite satisfied that one-horse carts 
 deserve to be preferred ; not only because a propor- 
 tionally greater loading will be carried by them, over a 
 road decently repaired, but also, because less damage 
 is done to the roads than when heavier drauglits are 
 taken, and more horses employed. 
 
 Broad wheels arc pretty common in England, but not 
 
 much used in Scotland, thougTi it is evident that thcii 
 general introduction would be attended with many ad- 
 vantages. It is easy, however, to account for their 
 behig hitherto neglected, though, perhaps, the very cir- 
 cumstances which produced that neglect will, in some 
 measure, occasion its continuance. — Roads in England 
 were repaired at an earlier period than in Scotland ; and 
 unless a public road is previously put in good order, it 
 is impracticable, or at least attended with much incon- 
 venience, to pass over it with broad wheels, so long as 
 the majority of carriages which travel that way are 
 mounted upon narrow wheels. The latter make a rut 
 or track into which the former cannot go, and hence 
 they arc impeded at every step, and made to go un- 
 steady. Were all wheels of the broad kind, and were 
 they all shod in a suitable manner, (for in some cases 
 we have seen wheels apparently with broad felloes, shod 
 in such a way as to do equal injury to the road, as those 
 which in reality were constructed with narrow ones,) 
 the public would be eminently benefited, 'i'hc expense 
 of siipportuig the roads of the kingdojn, from an in- 
 crease of trade, and an increase of improvement, has 
 of late been augmented prodigiously. Perhaps the ex- 
 pense is not short of three millions per annum} and 
 there seems to be no method of lessening it, but by 
 resorting to a general use, either of broad wheels or 
 one-horse carts, which undoubtedly would cause a con- 
 siderable reduction in the expense. The legislature, 
 sensible of the benefit derived from broad wheels, has 
 given a premium upon their use, by lessening tbc rate 
 of tolls 50 Jier cetit. in their favour. This is an apparent 
 advantage to be sure, tliough in reality no important 
 benefit can be gained, either by the public or indi- 
 viduals, so long as narrow wheels are in general use. 
 It would seem that nothing short of a compulsory act 
 can bring broad wheels into universal practice, because 
 the individual who wishes to use them is deterred by 
 the unavoidable loss which he must sustain, when the 
 great majority of wheels arc of a different construction. 
 It is impracticable to make good work in one rigg, with 
 two ploughs, one of which is narrow set and the other 
 wide set in the mould-board ; and it is equally imprac- 
 ticable to travel a public road with broad wheels, if 
 narrow wheels are permitted, especially if the majority 
 of wheels are of that description. The introduction of 
 broad wheels can therefore only be accomplished, by 
 taking it up as a general measure. W^ere caprice, or 
 obstinacy, suffered to act, individuals would be found 
 influenced by these principles, and of sufficient number 
 to prevent the improvement from being accomplished. 
 We therefore repeat, that a compulsory measure seems 
 to be the only effectual way of introducing this manifest 
 improvement ; and were an exception made in favour 
 of one-horse carts, the improvement would not be much 
 less. 
 
 Before concluding this Section, we may state, that if 
 a fair comparison is made between the wagon loads of 
 England, and the cart loads of Scotland, it will be found, 
 that the cart, in point of economy, is the preferable 
 carriage. It is well known, that the main objection to 
 two horse ploughs in England, is the dislike shown by 
 the wagoners to have their teams broken or separated. 
 We remember well of a gentleman in Hertfordshire in- 
 forming us, that his carter would not take more hay to 
 the London market Avith five horses than a load, (90 
 stone Scottish weight,) and cannot forget the surprise 
 he expressed at being informed, that tlie writer of this
 
 zVGRlCULTURK. 
 
 247 
 
 article had actually drivcji one-foiirili more to market 
 with a sinif/e liursc. The t'orcgouig objection would cer- 
 tainly be instantly removed, were double carts com- 
 monly used, and every ploughman employed to keep 
 and work his own pair ot horses. Under a system of 
 this kind, a saving to the public would be gained, the 
 extent ol which cannot be calculated. 
 
 Sect. V. 
 
 On Drilling Macliines. 
 
 The most perfect husbandry is practised where gar- 
 den culture can be imitated ; and the greatest attention 
 is paid to the management of the field, when the seed 
 process is regularly executed. These prhiciples, ab- 
 stractly considered, may be regarded as intimately con- 
 nected with the practice of rural economy, though they 
 are not to be received as applicable in every case 
 respecting the seed of plants, or the mode in which it 
 is to be deposited in the field. Regularity ought to be 
 studied at all times, but regularity may be sufliciently 
 followed, without imitating at all- times the husbandry 
 of a garden, or acting according to the rules which in- 
 fluence cultivators in that department. The superiority 
 of garden soil, the attention paid in cultivating it, and 
 the value of the crops raised, afford every encourage- 
 ment to a refinement of management, greatly exceeding 
 what can be executed in the field, where a deficiency 
 prevails in each of these particulars ; but even were 
 the garden and the field of similar richness, and were 
 the crops that are cultivated in each of equal value, slill 
 we apprehend that the proper culture is dissimilar, and 
 that practices, good in a garden where small seeds and 
 leguminous crops only are cultivated, may be improper 
 and unprofitable, when the cultivation of corn is to be 
 attempted. 
 
 The Row Husbandry, or the method of cultivating 
 crops of wheat, barley, and oats, according to the drill 
 system, has many votaries, and is less or more followed 
 in the arable districts of Great Britain. We apprehend, 
 that in t'his way the greatest numlier of British soils 
 cannot be successfully cultivated, and shall briclly state 
 our reasons for entertaining this opinion. 1. The climate 
 of Britain being very variable, sufficient time is seldom 
 to be got for accomplishing the previous operations of 
 the row husbandry ; therefore, when the seed season 
 arrives, drilling is eitlier imperfectly executed, or de- 
 layed so long, as to render the after crop precarious 
 and uncertain. 2. The soil of Britain, in nine cases out 
 of ten, is unfit for the row husbandry, being too wet, 
 too poor, too stiff, and therefore not to be cultivated or 
 sown with the implements used in the row husbandry. 
 3. The culmiferous grains of wheat, barley, oats, and 
 rye, may be raised more abimdantly, and at less expense, 
 according to the old-fashioned or broad-cast system, tha!n 
 by what is called the row husbandry. When these 
 grains are drilled, they are greatly exposed to the wea- 
 ther, and liable to be hashed and broken down by every 
 gale of wind. They also tiller or stool, so long as any 
 interval remains for the spreading of their roots, which 
 occasions an inequality in the ripening of the grain, of 
 considerable importance to the manufacturer. From 
 these circumstances, we are led to believe, that the row 
 ■husbandry cannot be profitably exercised with any of 
 the culmiferous varieties, though with the leguminous 
 ones of beans, turnips, potatoes. Sec. (plants which pro- 
 bably derive a large portion of nourishment from the 
 
 air, or at least cannot be cultivated with advantage 
 where the free circulation of air is wanting) the row- 
 husbandry is not oidy beneficinl in the first instance, 
 but of important use towards cleaning the ground, and 
 preserving it in good condition afterwards. 
 
 In the new Farmer's Calendar, an attempt has been 
 made to defend drill husbandry in every case ; but wc 
 apprehend the defence is executed with more zeal than 
 judgment. Mr TuU was the father of this husljandry 
 in Britain, and supported it by many strong arguments; 
 but it is notorious, that neither he nor any of his disci- 
 ples served themselves by following it. We are not 
 hostile, however, to this mode of husbandry in certain 
 situations, and under certain circumstances, that is, 
 where soil and climate are favourable to the several 
 operations which belong to it. In our opinion, the chief 
 merit of drilling consists in the regularity with which 
 the seed may be sown, and the equal depth at which it 
 may be deposited in the earth. Having made these 
 admissions, we cannot go farther in support of a system 
 utterly impracticable under the physical circumstances 
 in which Britain is generally placed. Soil and climate, 
 in a few districts, may render the row husbandry par- 
 tially eligible, but we repeat, that it never can become 
 generally prevalent. 
 
 Wc are eagerly disposed to promote the drilling of 
 turnips, potatoes, beans, and all the varieties of the 
 leguminous tribe, but cannot go one step farther in re- 
 conmiending the drill husbandry upon general princi- 
 ples. We acknowledge that, upon certain soils, wheat, 
 barley, and oats, may be successfully cultivated, accord- 
 ing to the row husbandry ; and we have seen that system 
 exercised to the manifest benefit of the persons by whom 
 it was executed. Still as applying to the great majority 
 of British soils, the row husbandry is inexpedient and 
 unprofitable, and with them the culture of culmiferous 
 crops, according to the broad cast system, must, by 
 every practical agriculturist, be received as most bene- 
 ficial and advantageous. 
 
 Having said so much concerning the inexpediency of 
 drilling all crops, we shall now say a few words concern- 
 ing the drills that are used, and the advantages which 
 may be derived from these implements. 
 
 The drills first used, were constructed upon simple 
 principles, and wrought in the wheel-barrow way, by 
 a person who pushed them in the furrow, when beans 
 were to be sown, and on the top of a sniall narrow ridge _j 
 of ground, when turnips were cultivated. A drill of this 
 kind is generally used for beans at this day, though 
 larger ones, sowing two or three drills at a time, and 
 drawn by a horse, have lately been brought into prac- 
 tice. The hand turnip-drill, however, is almost laid 
 aside, as it has been found that the seed sown by it did 
 not vegetate, from not being put deep enough into the 
 earth. Hore-drills were then resorted to ; and these arc 
 constructed with such precision, as not only to distri- 
 bute the seed with mathematical exactness, but also to 
 ensure vegetation in the driest seasons, unless the 
 moisture, from negligence, has been suffered to evapo- 
 rate. We are convinced that these large drills are infi- 
 nitely better calculated for the turnip husbandry than 
 small ones ; Ijut the same superiority is not discernible 
 in the husbandry of beans, Ijecause in many soils and 
 situations it is impracticable to form a drill at seed-time ; 
 therefore the single row barrow is run in the furrow 
 after the third plough, circumstances not permitting 
 the seed process to be more accurately executed. Where
 
 248 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 drills can be made up, thai mcUiod ought undoubtedly 
 to be followed ; but the real bean soils being generally 
 of a wet and tenacious naUU'e, il rarely happens, unless 
 in favourable seasons, that it is practicable. 
 
 That ingenious and well-informed agriculturist, Mr 
 Bailey of Chillingliam, in Northumberland, has done 
 much to render drills more perfect than formerly ; and 
 being intimately acquainted with mechanics, as well as 
 good husbandry, he has, in the instances alluded to, 
 availed himself of his extensive information, and brought 
 these implements to a degree of perfection not to be 
 expected from the labours of the mere mechanic. In 
 the survey of Northumberland, written by this gentle- 
 man and his friend George Culley, esq. we obsei"ve the 
 following account of drills, which cannot fail to be read 
 with interest by every agriculturist, especially if situa- 
 ted in a district where these implements are not com- 
 monly used. 
 
 " A Drill for scviiig Tiirnijis on the tofis of one-bout 
 Ridges. — When this mode of cultivating turnips was 
 first introduced, the only drill used was a hollow cylin- 
 der of tin, witli a small hole in the bottom, through 
 which the seed was shook : If this orifice be made of 
 such a size as to deposit a proper quantity of seed, it is 
 very liable to stop, and of course large spaces are to- 
 tally missed; if made so wide as to prevent this incon- 
 venience, it then sows far too much : This defect induced 
 me, some years since, to construct one upon different 
 principles, which is now coming into general use. 
 
 The most essential parts of this drill consist of a 
 solid cylinder C (Plate VII. Fig. 2.), of iron or brass, 2 
 inches diameter, and one inch broad ; on the surface are 
 made or punched 13 cavities, of the form of a semi-egg, 
 cut lengthways, and so deep as to hold 4 or 5 seeds 
 each. On the back part of this cylinder (a little below 
 the top) is placed the hind part of the hopper, to which 
 is fixed a piece of iron or brass (GA) 1 inch long, and 
 ^ broad, hollowed on the inside into the form of a Gothic 
 arch (as in Fig. 4.) the sides of which meeting the sides 
 of the cavities in an obtU/ue aiigU; prevent the seeds 
 from bruising ; at the lower end of this piece of iron 
 (which may be called a gatherer), is made a slil, -^ of 
 an inch long, and -^-^ wide ; and at the back of it, a thin 
 .flat piece of iron (TE) moves up and down, by means 
 of a screw S, at the top of the hopper, which enlarges 
 or lessens the orifice C3, directly above the cavities, and 
 increases or dimhiishes the quantity of seed delivered, 
 as the operator thinks necessary. This slip of thin 
 iron, (which may be called a regulator,) is let into a 
 groove made in the board which forms the back part of 
 the hopper. 
 
 This cylinder, CY, before the cavities are made, is 
 fixed on an iron axle, LL, one inch square, and turned 
 very true, as well as are those parts of the axle which 
 turn in the collars, or thimbles, fixed in the shafts or 
 handles DD, (Plate VII. Fig. 3.) To the ends of the 
 axle are fixed two wheels WW, 26 inches diameter, 
 that turn the axle and cylinder round; which, in passing 
 through the hopper H, (filled with turnip seed,) bring 
 tbrward in each cavity a number of seeds, and drop 
 then; into the spout P, which are conveyed by it to the 
 coulter C, that forms a channel on the top of the one- 
 bout ridge, SD, (Plate VII. Fig. 5.) for receiving them, 
 where S is the channel, and D the dung directly under 
 the seeds. 
 
 If the cavities be made to hold 5 seeds, when the re- 
 gulator or tongue is screwed close down, and there be 
 
 12 cavities, it will then deposit 60 Bccds in one revolu- 
 tion ; and as the diameter of the wheel is 26 inches, the 
 circumference will be 81i; in Lhiscase 60 seeds will be 
 deposited in 81^ inches, or nearly 9 in a foot. From this 
 minimum quantity, by screwing up the regulator, the 
 number may be increased gradually to 30 or 40 in a 
 foot; which is far too nmch, unless in very particular 
 and unfavourable situations. 
 
 We shall now give a description of a drill, upon a 
 new construction, for sowing all kinds of grain, in any 
 quantity, and at any distance. 
 
 The inside part of the drill, by which the quantity of 
 seed is regulated, is represented by Plate VII. Fig. 1. 
 where AX is an iron axle, 1 or 1 \ inch square, upon 
 which are fixed, at 9 or lu inches distance, five, six, or 
 inore, brass-fluted cylinders, the flutes being rather more 
 than a semicircle |of an inch diameter, or | wide, and 
 I deep. 
 
 RM are hollow cylindrical rims of hammered iron, 
 which have segments turned down at right angles, to fit 
 exactly the flutes of the brass cylinders ; the cavities of 
 which are increased or duninished by the segments of 
 the iron cylindrical rims sliding backwards or forwards 
 in the flutes. This is performed in all the cylinders at 
 the same time, by a rectangular space («) being made 
 in the brass cylinders, through which passes a straight 
 piece of iron IN, moving on iriction wheels at I, and 
 fastened to the places at LK, and also to the cylindrical 
 rims RM. 
 
 LV is a lever, the fulcrum of which is F, and moved 
 by a screw S passing through the frame at V. The end 
 at LK is forked, in which are fixed two friction wheels, 
 made to fit exactly the sides of the collar, or plates of 
 iron JK. 
 
 By turning the screw S, the lever moves the whole of 
 the rims at once, and the cavities are increased or dimi- 
 nished at pleasure, and almost instantaneously, to sow 
 anij kind of grain, and in any firojiortion, which is shown 
 upon the scale EOP. 
 
 Since the first invention of this drill, some improve- 
 ment and alterations have been made, particularly in 
 hanging the coulters, so as to act entirely independent 
 of each other, and deposit the seed properly on the most 
 uneven ground; — adrill of this kind, to sow seven rows, 
 is represented on Plate VI. Fig. 12. The seed is con- 
 veyed from the cylinder doAvn the tin funnels F, to the 
 coulter CL ; this coulter is fixed by a hinge at H, and is 
 kept in its proper position by the iron bar BD, which is 
 fixed to the coulter at C by a bolt, and plays up and down 
 the sloping board EG, to which it is confined by the iron 
 staples SS : — These coulters are easily set to any width 
 of interval, by taking out the staples, and placing them 
 in their proper holes in the slope-board EG ; these holes 
 are usually made to answer the intervals of 9, 10-i, and 
 12 inches. The hinges H remove with equal readiness 
 to answer the above intervals. 
 
 The iron bars have several square holes in them 
 for inserting spring cotterels, by which any degree of 
 play is given to the coulters that may be thought ne- 
 cessary. 
 
 The index, or scale, for regulating the quantity, is 
 seen thi'ough the arched space at I. 
 
 When the machine is drawn by two horses, the shaft- 
 horse is yoked at N, and the other at M ; but when 
 drawn by one horse, the bar MN takes off by loosening 
 the screw O, and the shafts are fixed to the middle of 
 the bar, the end of which is seen at H. Any particular
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 24 {> 
 
 i-ow is prcvenlcd from sowing, by piiUing in the slots, 
 T ; and the whole are prevented iVoni sowing, Ijy a small 
 pinion, N, being detached from another placed upon the 
 nave of the wheel; this is done in an instant l)y moving 
 the small lever, or key K. 
 
 y-'or Turni/is. — The large hopper is taken ofl', and a 
 set ol small ones fixed upon the half-egg cavities at the 
 end of the brass cylinders : the quantity is regulated by a 
 tongue screwing up and down, as described in the turnip 
 drill, (Plate Vli. Fig. 1.) 
 
 For sowing beans or pease at wide intervals, viz. 
 from 27 to 30 inches, I use a drill with only one wheel 
 and one cylinder, which a man wheels before him in the 
 furrow, or (what I find much better) it may be fixed in 
 the body of a small plough, with one stilt, that passes be- 
 tween the wheel and seed-box, (Plate VII. Fig. 6.) 
 By this means the wheel moves along a smooth surface 
 between the land-side, and mould-board 1\I, and the seed 
 is deposited at a regular depth : two inches answer very 
 Avell for beans. With the same small plough and drill 
 I have sown both wheat and barley, at difl'erent inter- 
 vals, from 6 to 12 inches, and 14^ or 2 inches deep, with 
 good success ; and for small concerns, this cheap and 
 simple apparatus will probably be found the most eligi- 
 ble. 
 
 It is fixed to the plough by two pieces of iron going 
 from the ends of the drill; one to the beam at B, and 
 the other to the stilt at C, and, moving round on bolts, 
 allow the wheel W to fall and rise with every accidental 
 hollow or eminence. 
 
 The low part of the coulter is kneed or bent, to 
 bring it to the same plane with the land-side of the 
 plough. 
 
 Sect. VI. 
 
 Of a Muc/une for Reafiing Corn. 
 
 The aid furnished to husbandry by mechanical inven- 
 tion has been already noticed ; but many people have 
 deemed it practicable to extend that aid to one of the 
 most important branches of rural economy ; namely, 
 that of reaping corn, which, at the current rate of la- 
 bour, is become a most expensive process. This deside- 
 ratum, however, has not hitherto been obtained, though 
 several unsuccessful attempts have been made by inge- 
 nious artisans to construct an implement capable of exe- 
 cuting the reaping process. One of these implements 
 has been constructed by Mr Gladstones at Castle Dou- 
 glas, and though found imperfect upon trial, may proba- 
 bly have laid the foundation of a more successful attempt 
 at some future period. 
 
 To reap the crop of a large corn farm, since labour 
 became so high priced, proves a burden of great magni- 
 tude ; therefore, we are disposed to believe, that eveiy 
 scheme, which has for its object a reduction of manual 
 labour, by introducing machinery in its stead, must ne- 
 ressarily be favourably received by cultivators of every 
 description, and particularly by those extensively em- 
 barked in rural undertakings. We all know, what ad- 
 vantage the thrashing machine has proved to the corn 
 farmer; indeed, without this machine, it is probable, the 
 expense of separating corn from the straw would, by this 
 time, have amounted to nearly the value of one-tenth of 
 the crop. Be this as it may, as manufactures have reach- 
 ed their present flourishing state entirely through the aid 
 of machinery, there can be no doubt, but that agriculture 
 may be equally benefited by assistance of the like kind. 
 
 Vol. I. Paut I. 
 
 Those, who remember thd general opinion, when tlm 
 thrashing machine was first advertised, will not be scep- 
 tical concerning tlie success of a machine for reapinv; 
 corn; though no doubt the latter, like as it happened in 
 the former, will require many years, and many altera- 
 tions, before it can be brought to be completely and ge- 
 nerally useful. 
 
 Without further preamble, we proceed to describe Mr 
 Gladstones's machine. 
 
 AA are the shafts, in which a horse is yoked. BB are 
 two wheels, which support the machine, and, revolving 
 upon the ground, when the horse goes forward, give mo- 
 tion to the machine. Upon the axle C of the wheels, 
 the large cog-wheel D is fixed, acting in the pinion E; 
 upon the axle of which is fixed the breast-wheel F, and 
 the pulley G. The breast-wheel F, by acting in the pi- 
 nion K, gives motion to the breast-wheel H. The cutter 
 K is fixed on the lower end ol a spindle, coming up 
 through the middle of the iron bar LLL ; and upon the 
 top of this spindle the small pinion M is fixed, which 
 acts in the breast-wheel H. 
 
 The pully G, by means of a pitch-chain, sets in mo- 
 tion the small pinion N, which acts in the large gather- 
 ing wheel O ; and on this wheel the large cross-arm PP 
 is fixed, to the one end of which the gatherer Q is at- 
 tached, with another gatherer at the end of it, if found 
 necessary. The gathering wheel O, with its cross-anu 
 PP, and gatherer Q, revolves round the cast-iron bar 
 LLL, as its centre, or axis. 
 
 It is evident, when the machine is drawn forward, 
 the cutting wheel K will be put into a very rapid mo- 
 tion, while the gathering apparatus will go compara- 
 tively slow. SS is a circidar table of wood, with strong 
 wooden teeth, notched below all around, in front of it. 
 The table is fixed upon the cast-iron bar LLL ; and, as 
 the cutter works immediately below, or rather betwixt 
 the wooden teeth, as may be seen at T, they not only 
 hold the corn from flying the cutter, but prevent it from 
 being hurt or damaged ; and the table serves to support 
 the corn when cut, till the gatherer comes round. 
 
 W is a spindle through the cross-arm P ; a tail V is 
 fixed to the bottom of it; and the gatherer Q, fixed to 
 the top of this spindle, has liberty to turn backward and 
 forward upon it, as a centre. W is a segment of wood, 
 by which the tail and gatherer are supported. This tail 
 keeps the gatherer in its proper position, until it comc^> 
 round below the large cross-beam X. A piece of wood 
 is fixed below this beam, which takes the com out of the 
 gatherer, and leaves it in small sheaves, or handfuls. 
 This it does easily ; as the tail of the gatherer being no 
 longer supported by the segment of wood W, the gath- 
 erer falls back, and continues in the position, as at M, 
 till it comes round to N, when the tail rests on the piece 
 of wood W, and brings the gatherer again into its pro- 
 per position. The gatherer can be let out and taken in, 
 as necessary, by means of the slide groove seen at W. 
 a a are small circular pieces of wood, coated with some- 
 thing that has a tendency to make iron sharp by rubbing 
 upon it ; but the name thereof I have forgotten. These 
 circular pieces of wood are put into a rapid motion by 
 the rope 6, over the pulley c and d. They are so con- 
 structed as to be put in motion and stopped at pleasure, 
 without interrupting the progress of the machine. They 
 also sharp the edge of the cutter. iv is a small handle, 
 which turns a screw, that sets the pinion E out of the 
 large cog-wheel, and admits the machine to be drawn as 
 easily as a common cart, without putting the machinery 
 I i
 
 250 
 
 AGRICULTUKE. 
 
 in motion. !{ ,<;• uic iwu haiullcs, by means of which the 
 cutter can be niude cither to cut low or high, as circum- 
 stances may recjuirc. 
 
 Fig. 1. gives a side view of the machine; Fig. 2. a 
 liorizontal view ot it ; Fig. 5. is a view of the cutting- 
 wheel by itself, with stpai-ate cutters, or sitlics, boited 
 to it, as &l n nn nn ; Fig. 4. is a view of the cast-iron 
 bar LLL ; and Fig. 5. is a view of the cutting-wheel. I 
 am well aware of the difficulty which attends a descrip- 
 tion of this nature, and how imperfectly it may be under- 
 stood by the great body of those who are intei'cstcd ; 
 but if I have made myself intelligible to mechanics, or 
 such cultivators as are tolerably well acquainted with the 
 first principles of the art, my object will be completely 
 gained. 
 
 Wc may add, that several years have elapsed since 
 Mr Gladstones constructed the main parts of the ma- 
 chine, which we have attempted to describe ; and, about 
 two years ago, he made a model thereof, which was 
 «ientioned to the Highland Society, by sir Alexander 
 Gordon, Bart. That respectable body at first seemed 
 anxious, that IVIr Gladstones should construct a com- 
 plete machine, so as its powers and uses might be suffi- 
 ciently ascertained ; but latterly, for reasons best known 
 to tliemselves, their support has been withdrawn ; and 
 the design likely would have been given up, had not a 
 public-spirited gentleman, sir Edward Crofton, happen- 
 ed to see the model, and ordered one to be made on his 
 account. 
 
 This machine has been greatly improved by Mr Glad- 
 stones, who has favoured the Editor with a drawing of 
 his improved machine, which we shall give under the 
 article Reaping Machine, where we shall have an 
 opportunity of discussing this subject at length, and 
 of describing the ingenious Reaping Machine recently 
 invented by Mr Alexander Scott of (^rmiston, which 
 lias met with the approbation of tlie Dalkeith Farming 
 Society. 
 
 Sect. VII. 
 
 Of Thrashing Machines. 
 
 We now come to treat of Thrashing Machines, the 
 most valuable instrument in the farmer's possession, 
 and one which adds more to the general produce of the 
 country, than any invention hitherto devised. The sav- 
 ing of manual labour, thereby obtained, is almost incal- 
 culable ; while the work is performed in a much more 
 perfect manner than was formerly practicable, even 
 when the utmost care and exertion were bestowed. In 
 fact, had not the thrashing machine been invented, it is 
 hardly possible to conceive what would have been the 
 rate or expense of thrashing, or even whether a suffi- 
 cient number of hands could, at any i^ate of expense, 
 have been obtained for thrashing the grain of the coun- 
 try. Thrashing was always an vmpopular branch of work, 
 and seldom was undertaken where otlier jobs could be 
 procured. If this was the case in former times, when 
 hands were more plentiful than work ; what would have 
 been the case now, when the labour of the country ex- 
 ceeds the means by which it is to be executed ? Either 
 corn would have remained unthrashed; or the charge of 
 doing it would have greatly diminished the profits of 
 the farmer, and consequently the value of land would 
 have been considerably affected. 
 
 Nothing caused so much loss and vexation to the 
 farmer in former times, as the process of separating the- 
 
 corn from the straw ; and various mctliods, in different 
 ages were adopted for accomplishing this operation. 
 The ancient inhabitants ol Asia and Egypt, where agri- 
 cultiU'e is supposed to liavc had its origin, knew no 
 otlier method tlian tliat of enclosing a spot in the open 
 air, and smoothing it with clay rolled hard ; this was the 
 thrashing-floor. The corn being next spread in sheaves, 
 oxen were turned in, and kept m motion till the business 
 was done. " Thou sliali not muzzle the ox, that treadeth 
 out the corn." Deut. xxv. 4. 
 
 If jElian may be believed, the Greeks were neither 
 so merciful nor cleanly in this circumstance. They 
 besmeared the mouths of the poor animals with dung, 
 to keep them from tasthig the corn under their feet. 
 Hist. Animal, lib. iv. cap. 25. 
 
 Machines were next invented, in different countries, 
 made of planks or beams, stuck over witli flints or hard 
 pegs, to rub the ears between them; others to bruise 
 out the grain by sledges, or trail-carts. 
 
 Dicendum etquse sint duris a^restibus arma 
 Tribula, trabscquc, et iniquo pondere rastri. 
 
 The translators of Virgil from Father Ogilvie down- 
 wards, have included the flail in this description : 
 
 The sled, the tumbril, hurdles, and the flail. 
 
 Tribulum, however, was certainly the machine fir.st 
 described for the single purpose of separating the grain 
 from the husk, or chaff. At what period of time the 
 flail took place of the former awkward machine is not 
 known with certamly. President Goguet says, that the 
 Turks, and many of the Italians, have not yet adopted 
 it. The barbarous Celts, accustomed to fire and sword, 
 made short work. They burned the straw, and instantly 
 devoured the grain ; and, it is said, this custom con- 
 tinues in some parts of the Highlands of Scotland to 
 this day. 
 
 In Britain, till within these twenty years, the flail 
 may be said to have been the only instrument em- 
 ployed for thrashing corn. But, previous to that period, 
 several attempts were made to construct machines for 
 performing that laborious work. The first attempt was 
 made by an ingenious gentleman of the county of East 
 Lothian, Mr Michael Menzies, who invented a machine, 
 that was to go by water, upon the principle of driving a 
 number of flails by a water-wheel ; but, from the force 
 with which they wrought, the flails were soon broken to 
 pieces, and consequently the invention did not succeed. 
 
 Another thrashing machine was invented about 1758, 
 by Mr Michael Stirling, a farmer in the pai'ish of Dum- 
 blain, Perthshire. This machine was nearly the same as 
 the common mill for dressing flax, being a vertical 
 shaft with four cross-arms, enclosed in a cylindrical case, 
 three feet and a half high, and eight feet diameter. 
 Within this case, the shaft with its arms were turned 
 with considerable velocity by a water-wheel, and the 
 sheaves of corn being let down gradually through an 
 opening for the purpose on the top of the box, the grain 
 was beat off by the arms, and pressed with the sti-aw 
 through an opening in the floor, from which it was 
 separated by riddles shaken by the mill, and then clear- 
 ed by fanners, also turned by it. The great defect of 
 this machine was, that it broke off the ears of barley or 
 wheat, instead of beating out the grain, and was only fit 
 for oats.
 
 AGRICXILTURE. 
 
 25i 
 
 Several olhcr maclilnes were afterwards invented by 
 different persons, for accomplishing this important opera- 
 tion ; but none of them answered the purpose, till one 
 was constructed at Houston Mill, near Haddington, 
 Scotland, by Mr Andrew Meikle, whose family possess 
 a kind of hereditaiy right to genius and invention. Mr 
 Meikle, who for several years had been attempting to 
 brmg these machines to perfection, ascertained, after 
 much investigation, that they had all been constructed 
 upon wrong principles, and that btatiug must be had 
 recotU'se to, instead of rubbing, otherwise the work 
 could not be performed in a sufficient manner. He 
 therefore, in 1783, made a working model, turned by 
 water, in which the grain was beat out by the drum, uftcr 
 fiaaning through two rollers, used for feeding or drawing 
 the grain into the machine. Mr George Meikle, son of 
 the former, being atKilbegie,the residence of Mr Stein, 
 agreed to erect a machine of this nature for that gentle- 
 man, upon condition of Mr Stein furnishing all the ma- 
 terials, and paying him for the work only in case the 
 machine ansivered the desired fiurfiose. This was agreed 
 to, and the machine was completed in February 1786, 
 being the first of the kind ex<cr made. It was found to 
 work exceedingly well ; and the only alteration made 
 from the above mentioned model was, that, instead of 
 plain rollers, fluted ones were substituted. In conse- 
 quence of this successful attempt, a patent for the in- 
 vention was applied for, which, after a considerable op- 
 position from a person no ways concerned in the inven- 
 tion, was obtained in April 1788. 
 
 Since the erection of this machine, Mr Meikle has 
 progressively introduced a variety of improvements, all 
 tending to simplify the labour, and to augment the quan- 
 tity of the work performed. When first erected, though 
 the corn was equally well separated from the straw, yet 
 as the whole of the straw, chafl', and corn, were indis- 
 criminately thrown into a confused heap, the work 
 could only, with propriety, be considered as half execu- 
 ted. By the addition of rakes, or shakers, and two 
 pair of fanners, all driven by the same machinery, the 
 different processes of thrashing, shaking, and winnow- 
 ing, are now all at once performed, and the corn im- 
 mediately prepared for the public market. When it is 
 added, that the quantity of corn gained from the supe- 
 rior powers of the machine is fully equal to a twentieth 
 part of the crop, and that, in some cases, the expense of 
 thrashing and cleaning the corn is considerably less 
 than what was formerly paid for cleaning it alone, the 
 immense sa\ings arising from the invention will at once 
 be seen. 
 
 Where farms are of a small size, it would be impro- 
 per to recommend the erection of large machines, as 
 the interest of the original purchase would be a heavy 
 drawback from the advantages ; but, under contrary 
 circumstances, we are decidedly of opinon, that a ma- 
 chine of great powers, provided with two rakes, or sha- 
 kers, and two pair of fanners, is the most profitable one 
 lor the possessor. By a machine of this kind, when 
 wrought by horses, the grain is completely thrashed 
 and cleaned at little more expense than is paid for clean- 
 ing it alone, when thrashed by the flail, independent of 
 the additional quantity of corn produced by the powers of 
 the machine ; and, when wind or water is substituted 
 instead of horses, the saving is considerably increased. 
 
 A horse-machine of the greatest powers, with the 
 appendages of rakes and fanners, may be erected for 
 150/. ; and, when wrought by wind, for 300/. independent 
 
 of the buildings and fixtures which are required. It 
 would be unfair, however, to charge these to the account 
 of the thrashing machine, as, even upon a middle-sized 
 farm, a much greater extent of building is required for 
 barn-work, when the corn is separated from the straw 
 by the flail, than when the operation is perfonned by the 
 thrashing machine. 
 
 From the most minute attention bestowed on this sub- 
 ject, we are confident that an extra quantity of corn, 
 equal, in ordinary years, to 5 /ler cent, will be given by 
 the thrashing machine, more than by the flail ; besides 
 innumerable other advantages which accompany that 
 machine. Indeed, the loss by the flail has long been 
 proverbial, and the best of farmers were obliged to sub- 
 mit to losses of this nature, because they could not be 
 remedied; but, with the thrashing machine, no corn 
 need be lost, as every particle of grain is scutched ofi", 
 when the machine is constructed upon right principles. 
 
 The expense of horse labour, from the increased valut 
 of the animal, and tlie charge of his keeping, being an 
 object of great importance, it is recommended that, upon 
 all sizeable farms, that is to say, where two hundred 
 acres, or upwards, of corn aie sown, the machine should 
 be wrought by wind, unless where local circumstances 
 afford the conveniency of water. 
 
 Wind machines were, till lately, exposed to danger- 
 ous accidents, as the sails could not be shifted when a 
 brisk gale suddenly arose, which is often the case in the 
 variable climate of North Britain. These disagreeable 
 circumstances are now eft'ectually prevented, by the in- 
 ventive genius of Mr Meikle ; and the machine may be 
 managed by any person of the smallest discernment or 
 attention. 
 
 The whole sails can be taken in, or let out, in half a 
 minute, as the w ind requires, by a person pulling a rope 
 within the house, so that an uniform motion is preserved 
 to the machine, and the danger from sudden squalls 
 prevented. 
 
 Where coals are plenty and cheap, steam may be ad- 
 vantageously used for working the machine. A respect- 
 able farmer in the county of East Lothian, works his 
 machine in this way ; and, being situated in the neigh- 
 bourhood of a colliery, he is enabled to tlirash his grain 
 at a trifling expense. 
 
 The quantity of grain, thrashed in a given time, must 
 depend upon its quality, on the length of the straw, and 
 upon the number of horses, or strength of the wind, by 
 which the machine is wrought ; but, under favourable 
 circumstances, from 70 to 80 bushels of oats, and from 
 30 to 50 bushels of wheat, may be thrashed and cleaned 
 in one hour. But it is from clean dry grain only that so 
 nuich will be done Ln that period. 
 
 In a \vord the thrashing tnachine is of the greatest 
 utility to the farmer ; and from it the public derives a 
 vast additional quantity of food for man and beast. If 
 five jier cent, is added to the national produce, it is as 
 great a gain to the public, as if the national territories 
 were increased one-seventh more than their present size ; 
 for this additional produce is gained without any other 
 expense, than the money laid out in erecting the ma- 
 chines ; no more seed is sown than formerly, nor more 
 labour employed, and these articles have always been 
 estimated as equal to two-fifths of the produce. 
 
 As a farmer's capital ought never to be laid out in 
 
 expensive building, or works of an extraordinaiy kind, 
 
 w-e are of opinion, that the sums necessary for erecting 
 
 machines should, m the first instance, be expended by 
 
 I i 2
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 the landlovd, and the tenant bound to leave them in a 
 ivorkablc condilion at his departme. Many farmers have 
 capitals sufl'icii-nt for undertakings of this kind; but the 
 great body of that profession woukl be injured by such 
 an expense, as ihey would thus be deprived of the 
 means of improving their farms in other respects. Be- 
 sides, as every improvement, at the long run, centres in 
 the pocket of the proprietor, it is but fair and reason- 
 able he should contribute his moiety of the expense 
 laid out in procuring it ; and, in many cases, he would 
 be benefited, in the first instance, by the erection of 
 thrashing machines, particularly where new farm-stead- 
 ings are to be built, as fewer buildings would, of course, 
 be necessary. 
 
 We shall now offer some calculations relative to the 
 probable amount of the savings which might accrue to 
 the public, if thrashing machines were universally used. 
 We do not affect accuracy in these calculations, which 
 cannot be expected before facts are sufficiently ascertain- 
 ed ; but, to borrow the words very properly used by 
 the president, in his speech to the Board of Agricul- 
 ture, July 29, 1794, " to be enabled to form some gene- 
 ral idea of the nature and extent of public improvement, 
 is a great step gained." 
 
 The extent of ground, annually employed, in Great 
 Britaui, in the raising of corn, may be computed at 
 seven millions five hundred thousand acres, and the 
 average produce of the different grains at three quar- 
 ters per acre, as below that increase no farmer can 
 raise it with profit. We observe in the president's 
 speech to parliament, when he moved the establishment 
 of the Board, that he supposed, there were only five 
 millions of acres annually employed in raising of grain. 
 But there is reason to think, that this is a mistake ; for, 
 if the population of the island be ten millions, the pro- 
 duce of these acres would be far below what is required 
 for the support of that number of people, independent 
 of what is necessary for the feeding of horses, and 
 sowing the next crop. We observe also, in the re- 
 printed Survey of the County of Stafford, a pretty just 
 calculation of the number of acres annually sown in that 
 county, amounting to one hundred and fifty thousand 
 acres. Now, as Stafford is not a corn county, much 
 latitude is not taken in fixing it to average the whole 
 counties of England ; this would make the total quan- 
 tity sov/n in that kingdom amount to six milUions 
 of acres. The remaining one million five hundred 
 tliousand acres we suppose to be sov/n in Scotland and 
 Wales, which makes their produce only equal to that of 
 ten English counties. 
 
 If seven millions five hundred thousand acres be an- 
 nually sown'in Britain, and the average produce amount 
 to three quarters per acre, then the total quantity of grain, 
 annually raised in Britain, would be tvventy-two millions 
 five hundred thousand quarters. 
 
 It has been already said, that the thrashing machine, 
 from its superior powers, will give one-twentieth more 
 grain, than when the operation of thrashing is performed 
 by the flail. This furnishes an increased quantity of 
 one million one hundred and twelve thousand five hun- 
 dred quarters, which, taken at the low average of forty 
 shillings per quarter, for all grains, amounts to 2,225,000. 
 Add to this, the difference of expense between thrash- 
 ing with the above machine and the flail, which may be 
 stated at 1.5. per quarter; although, when the machines 
 are wrought by wind or water, the difference is more 
 than double that sum. This, on twenty-two million 
 
 five '-.undrcd thousand quarters, is, 1,250,000/. ; the whole 
 amounting to 3,350,000/. 
 
 We can scarcely expect to be credited, when it is 
 maintained, that the above enormous sum would annu- 
 ally be saved to the public, if the ivIi'jU corn, raised in 
 Britain, were separated from the straw by these ma- 
 chines ; and yet few political calculations admit of such 
 certain demonstration. Let us only suppose, that one 
 half of our com is thrashed in that way, and still the 
 saving is immense. If any person doubts the princi- 
 ples upon which these calculations are built, we have 
 only to recjuest, he would pay strict attention to the sub- 
 ject, being pretty positive he will soon acknowledge 
 they are not over-stretched. The only deduction neces- 
 sary to be made, is for the interest of the money expend- 
 ed in erecting the machines, the principal sum of which, 
 especially upon large farms, will be repaid by the 
 savings of three years' crops. 
 
 In a word, the invention of this implement may be 
 considered as the greatest improvement that has been 
 introduced into Britain during the present age. The 
 toil of human labour is by this means lessened, the stock 
 of agriculture produce is greatly increased, and the fa- 
 cility of managing large concerns wonderfully promoted. 
 The duty of rewarding the inventor is a debt incumbent 
 upon the whole landed interest of the island, and, bv dis- 
 charging it, they will stimulate ingenious mechanics, of 
 all descriptions, to exert their talents in making useful 
 discoveries. 
 
 In the above account, Mr Menzics's attempt to thrash 
 grain by the use of a machine is slightly noticed. Though 
 the attempt was unsuccessful at the time, there is no 
 doubt, but it afterwards proved of public benefit; be- 
 cause the attention of the ingenious artisans was there- 
 by turned to the same subject, till at last a perfect ma- 
 chine was constructed. The like result, we hope, may 
 follow endeavours, hitherto abortive, of artisans to con- 
 struct reaping machines ; and, for their encouragement, 
 a description of Mr Menzies's machine, extracted from 
 the Select Transactions cf the Society of Imfirovers in 
 Scotland, shall now be presented. 
 
 " Mr Michael Menzies, advocate, having invented a 
 machine for thrashing of grain, and obtained a patent 
 for the sole disposal of it, upon a representation made to 
 the Society, that it was to be seen going in several pla- 
 ces, and that the said machine saved labour, and thrashed 
 the grain cleaner than the ordinary way, they appointed 
 Mr Alexander Boswel and Mr Charles Maitland, advo- 
 cates, to visit it, make their observations and remarks 
 thereupon, and to report. 
 
 " Their Report. — In obedience to the appointment, we 
 went to Roseburn, near Edinburgh, where one of the 
 machmes is set up, and is moved by water. We were 
 there a considerable time, and examined, with all the 
 exactness we could, the structure thereof. Thereafter 
 we saw it thrash for some time ; and that the power and 
 exactness of it might the better appear, straw, that 
 seemed to be well thrashed before, and to be as clean 
 of grain as straw thrashed in the comiTion way generally 
 is, was put into this machine ; and out of twelve bottles 
 of this straw there was thrashed very near the fourth 
 part of a peck ; and the grain, thus thrashed out, was 
 good, and no ways bruised or hurt. After we had seen 
 the large machine, which is moved by a great water- 
 wheel and triddles, we went and saw another, which is 
 moved by a little wheel of three feet diameter, moved 
 by a small quantity of water ; which last would be use-
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 25i 
 
 fill, where there is not conveniently to be had a sufTi- 
 cicnt quantity of water for moving a large wheel, and 
 might serve almost at every place in the winter time, 
 being supplied from the small currents occasioned by the 
 Jand-floods. And it is our humble opinion, that the ma- 
 chine would be of great use to farmers both in thrash- 
 ing the grain cleaner from the straw, and in saving a 
 great deal of labour ; for one man would be sufficient to 
 manage a machine, which would do the work of six ; and 
 that therefore the Society should recommend the use of 
 the same, and give all the encouragement they can to so 
 beneficial an invention, which, being simple and plain in 
 the machinery, may lie of universal advantage. 
 
 " The Society approved of the report, and recom- 
 mended the said machine to all gentlemen and far- 
 mers." 
 
 The ingenious Mr Bailey gives an excellent descrip- 
 tion of the thrashing machine, in the A~orthumbriiand 
 Survey, which with, the greatest liberality, he allows us 
 to use on the present occasion. 
 
 .i Descri/ition and Cakulat'wn of a Thrashing Mac/tine 
 erected at C/iilling/mm. 
 
 "In Plate IV. Fig. 1, BB is a horizontal board, or 
 table, 5 feet long by 3 feet 4 inches broad, on which the 
 corn CC is evenly spread, and presented to the cast- 
 metal fluted rollers R R, (4 inches diameter,) which take 
 it regularly in, and by their weight and sharp edges 
 hold fast the straw, while it is struck, switched, or 
 thrashed, by the switchers, or pieces of wood SSSS, 
 fixed hi the cylinder DD, and projecting 3 inches from 
 its surface ;* these, when they strike the corn, move in 
 an upward direction R E, with great velocity, and throw 
 the corn as it is thrashed, and the straw as it leaves the 
 fluted rollers, against the circular rake K K, and upon 
 the wire skreen G, from whence the straw is taken by 
 the rake, and delivered upon the sloping board L, down 
 which it slides to the floor N, while the corn passes 
 through the skreen G into the hopper H, and from 
 thence to the inclined board I ; but, in falling from H to 
 I, a strong current of air, raised by the fanners FFF, 
 blows the chaft" over the sloping board O, and the light 
 corn against it, which falls into the space P, and the 
 chaff into M, while the good grain slides down the in- 
 clined board 11, to the floor at Q, from whence it is taken 
 and put into a second winnowing machine, in which are 
 placed proper riddles to suit different kinds of grain. 
 This second machine is moved by a rope going over a 
 pulley, fixed in the axle T,and is set a going, or stopped, 
 at pleasure, by a stretching pulley, as occasion re- 
 quires. 
 
 Where the situation will admit of the board II being 
 placed about 4 feet from the floor, the second winnow- 
 ing machine may be placed directly under it, and save 
 the trouble of lifting the corn. 
 
 To find the velocity of the fiarticular /larts, we must 
 divide the product of the number of cogs in the driving 
 
 luhecla, by the product of the number of cogs in the 
 driven luheeln, and the (|uotient will be the number of 
 revolutions made by the last moved part, for one of the 
 first moving part. 
 
 The whole is ])ut in motion Ijy an overshot water 
 wheel 14 feet diameter, which makes from five to six 
 revolutions per minute, accoixling to the supply of water. 
 On the axle of this water wheel is fixed a large spur 
 wheel a a of 160 cogs, (1521 inches diameter,) which 
 drives a cast-metal pinion 6 of 16 cogs, (15.2S inches 
 diameter,) on the axis of which is placed another spur 
 wheel c of 63 cogs, (60.1 inches diameter,) tliat drives 
 the cast-metal pinion d of 16 leaves, (15.28 inches 
 diameter,) on the axis of which is fixed the cylinder 
 DD, (4 feet diameter, and 5 feet long,) with the four 
 piojecting pieces of wood, or switchers, SSSS, that 
 switch or thrash the corn, as described above. 
 
 Then VV" ^ rl ~ 39.375, the revolutions of the 
 
 cylinder for one of the 
 water wheel, 
 which multiplied by 5.5, the medium revolu- 
 
 tions of the water wheel 
 
 per minute. 
 
 gives 
 
 this, multiplied by 
 
 gives 
 
 216.562, the revolutions of the 
 cylinder per minute ; 
 4, the number of switch- 
 ers. 
 
 866.25, the number of strokes 
 per minute. 
 
 And, as the diameter of the cylinder is 4 feet, the 
 circumference will be 12.56 ; 
 therefore 216.5625, the revolutions of the 
 
 cylinder per minute, 
 multiplied by 12.56 feet, the circumference 
 
 of the cylinder, 
 
 gives 2720 feet, the velocity of the 
 
 switchers per minute. 
 The large spur wheel a also drives the light cog 
 wheel e of 63 cogs, (60.1 inches diameter,) fixed on 
 the axis ^ / of the rake for taking away the straw. 
 Then 'jy = 2.54. the number of revolutions 
 which the rake makes for one 
 of the water wheel, 
 multiplied by 5.5, the revolutions of the water 
 
 wheel per minute, 
 
 gives 15.97, nearly 14, the revolutions of the 
 
 rake per minute ; which, having 
 4 arms, will clear the skreen 
 of straw 55 times per minute. 
 
 The rollers are moved by the pinion 6 of 16 leaves, 
 working into the slight cast-metal wheel f fixed on the 
 iron axis it of the lower roller, on which axis is alos fixed 
 a small pinion g of eight leaves, working into another h 
 of equal number, fixed on the axisf of the upper roller, 
 which gives the two rollers an equable motion for taking 
 in the corn. 
 
 * This cylinder is made with strong arms, on which arc fixed the switchers, and cased round with narrow inch deals, the whole se- 
 cured from flj ing off by strong' iron hoops, surrounding them at each end. The switchers .ire covered witli plate iron, to prevent tlitir 
 weoi-inij. 
 
 ^ f Tliis axis is fixed into the upper roller, citliei' by an universal joint, or \\'\'^ a sr|uare t.apering end, to allow the upper roller to 
 rise .ind fall, according as the corn is fed in tliicker or thinner, and the concave board KE is hung on a bolt to allow it to rise and fall with 
 the roller
 
 254 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 Then ^-['^ X -3I == iAH., the revolution of the roll- 
 ers for one of the v/atcr 
 wheel, 
 multiplied by 5.5, 
 
 gives 24.44, the revolutions of the 
 
 rollers per minute. 
 And the diameter of the rollers being 4 inches, tlie 
 circumference will be 12.565 inches ; 
 therelbre 12.566 inches, the circumfer- 
 
 ence of the rollers, 
 multiplied by 24.44, the revolutions of the 
 
 rollers per minute, 
 
 jives .j071. inches of straw, passing 
 
 through the rollers per 
 niuiute ; which 307 in- 
 ches receive 866 strokes 
 of the switchers in that 
 time, or nearly three 
 strokes to an inch. 
 AVhcn the rollers arc required to move swifter or 
 blower, they may be driven very conveniently from the 
 end of the axle of the rake, by fixing a ca.iit-mcia.1 faced 
 ivhcel on it, with three rows of cogs, (8, 10, and 13,) 
 working into a shifling pinion of 8 leaves, fixed on an 
 iron axle ; at the other end of which is put a small bevel 
 wheel of 12 teeth, working into another of 8 teeth, at 
 the end of the axle of the lower roller. 
 
 The fanners are moved by a crossed ro/ie, passing 
 over a pulley T, 10 inches diameter, fixed on the axis 
 of the cylinder, and another V of 8 inches diameter, on 
 the axis of the fanners. Then, as the axis of the cy- 
 linder makes 216.56 revolutions per minute, we have 
 216.56 X ^- = 270.7 revolutions of the fanners per mi- 
 nute. 
 
 From the above it appears, that when 
 The water wheel makes 54- revolutions in one mi- 
 
 Tlie cylinder will make 
 The rollers 
 The rake 
 
 nute. 
 
 The fanners 
 
 The switchers make 
 
 270| 
 666 
 
 24i nearly, 
 
 14 ditto, and clears the 
 skreen of straw 56 times 
 per minute, 
 ditto, 
 
 strokes per minute, 
 and move with a velo- 
 city of 2720 feet per mi- 
 nute. 
 The rollers take in nearly 300 inches of corn per 
 minute. The medium length of good oats is about 30 
 inches ; and, supposing half a sheaf put in at a time, a 
 whole sheaf will then be equal to 60 inches ; There- 
 fore -jY = 5 sheaves per minute, which agrees with 
 the usual rate of going of this machine, when supplied 
 with a medium quantity of water. From some expe- 
 riments lately made, 120 sheaves of oats were thrashed 
 in 22 minutes, and yielded 12 bushels, which is at the 
 rate of 33 bushels per hour, or 264 per day of eight 
 hours. 
 
 The ex/icnse, for the attendance of the thrashing and 
 dressing part of this machine, is only that of three wo- 
 men ; viz. one to feed-in, another to hand the sheaves 
 to the feeder, and the third to take away and riddle the 
 corn after it is winnowed : of course, the expense of 
 thrashing and dressing 264 bushels is only \s. 6d. 
 
 The expense of thrashing the same quantity by the 
 flail would be one tv.cnly-fifth part, or lOA bushels. 
 
 which, at 2s. per bushel, is 21i., to which must be add- 
 ed 23., the expense of a man and two women to assii^' 
 in wiimowuig, making in all 23«. 
 
 The expense of erecting a thrashing machine of thi.- 
 kind was Irom 70/. to 80/. ; but since the advance of wood, 
 iron, and wages, it will be now near 100/. 
 
 Machines of small dimensions are erected for about 
 50/., which, with two horses, will thrash and dress 120 
 bushels of oats, or 60 of wheat, in eight hours. 
 
 Hellers, or small millstones, are added to many of 
 these machines, for crushing or grinding grain for 
 horses, swme. Sec. Knives for cutting straw, and many 
 other useful appendages, might be added. 
 
 Small machines are used for thrashing in many places; 
 but we have doubt respecting the advantages of such 
 implements. Allowing, that the work is equally well 
 performed with a small machine as with a large one, 
 still it is unquestionably true, that the expense of 
 thrashing must be greater when the farmer is employ- 
 ed ; because the time of one person must be occupied 
 in feeding the machine, whether one boll or ten bolls of 
 grain be thrashed within the hour. This is an objec- 
 tion to small machines, which cannot be gotten over, 
 even were it allowed tliat the grain is equally wel! 
 thrashed ; a circumstance concerning which we have 
 considerable doubts. It is one of the defects, however, 
 which attend small farms ; for it is almost impossibly 
 upon them to make a suitable division of labour in any 
 case. The best machine is that which is impelled by 
 a six-horse power; because such a machine is well 
 qualified to tlirash every kind of grain perfectly, while, 
 at the same time, full employment is given to the feeder. 
 On small farms, we have always considered the flail to 
 be the most profitable implement for thrashing grain ; 
 because the expenditure incurred in erecting a suitable 
 machine, would exceed the probable benefit. Perhaps 
 thrashing machines can rarely be worked with advantage 
 upon a farm where less than one hundred acres are an- 
 nually cultivated ; and, it is evident, without demonstra- 
 tion, that the benefit of using them is in direct propor- 
 tion to the quantity of corn that is cultivated. If we 
 shall suppose, that the interest upon outlay, and the 
 tear and wear of a thrashing machine, is fifteen pounds 
 per anniun ; and that 800 bolls of grain are raised, when 
 100 acres are cultivated, the charge, on these accounts, 
 is precisely fourpence halfpenny per boll. If the farm 
 is of such a size as to admit the raising of sixteen hun- 
 dred bolls, the charge is reduced to twopence farthing 
 per boll ; but should the return amount to two thousand 
 four hundred bolls, the charge will be no more than 
 three halfpence per boll. This is a true view of the 
 business, when interest on outlay and tear and wear are 
 to be considered ; and proves, what has seldom been 
 questioned, by those who have studied the science of ru- 
 ral economy, that a large farm may be managed com- 
 paratively at much less expense than a small one. 
 
 The scarcity of labourers in many districts, owing to 
 the increase of trade, and the immense number of hands 
 employed in the army and navy, furnishes another argu- 
 ment for the general introduction of thrashing machines. 
 It is a circumstance which cannot fail to excite surprise, 
 that those machines are scarcely known in many of the 
 best cultivated English counties, notwithstanding that 
 their utility is universally acknowledged wherever they 
 have been erected. Some objections have been offered 
 by English farmers, as if the saving in one way would be 
 compensated by the mcreased expense in another ; in
 
 AGRICULTUIIE. 
 
 255 
 
 other %YorcIs, that if thrashing machines were broui^ht 
 into gcncial ust, a i^reat many labourers would be tin-own 
 outot enipioymcnt, which, ot course, would serve to raise 
 the poor rales. Experience, iiowever, is, in every case, 
 the suicst guide. Tnc very same argument was used 
 in Scotland when machines were introduced; and yet it 
 has been found that the savings made by the farmer in 
 this way, enabled him to employ more labourers than be- 
 fore. A similar objection was urged against two horse 
 ploughs at their introduction, as if these implements 
 would prevent young men from being trained to husban- 
 dry, and cause the number of ploughmen to fall below 
 the actual demand. Time has, however, shown the weak- 
 ness of these objections. Ploughmen arc as plentiful as 
 formerly ; and, what is of greater importance, they are 
 better qualifiedfor executing their work. Every inven- 
 tion that lessens tlie expense of farm labour, enables the 
 farmer to employ additional hands in carrying on other 
 works ; and, in all improved farms, these works are so 
 numerous, that employment can never be wanting for 
 labourers, as long as the means of paying them remain 
 with the employer. 
 
 The mode of harvesting corn in England, however, is 
 much against the use of thrashing machuies ; and in- 
 deed it is against the process of thrashing in whatever 
 way it is performed. In many counties, all the grain, witli 
 the exception of wheat, is cut by the sithe, and of course 
 is not bound up into sheaves in that regular way, as when 
 it is cut by the sickle. Oats, in particular, cannot be 
 thrashed clean with a machine, unless the heads, or ears, 
 are fairly and equally exposed to the beaters, or scut- 
 chers. If either this grain, or wheat, passes irregularly 
 or unequally through the feeding rollers, the beaters 
 have little power, and are unfit for accomplishing the pro- 
 cess of separation. Barley and beans arc grains more 
 easily thrashed, the latter especially, than wheat and oats ; 
 though, after all, the more regular that unthrashcd grain 
 is presented to the machine, so much more will the 
 grain lie completely separated from the straw. 
 
 Before closuig this article, we would have been hap- 
 py, had it been in our power, to have stated, that the 
 worthy mventor of the thrashing machine had received 
 a remuneration in the slightest degree commensurate 
 with the merits of the invention, which he brought to 
 perfection, thereby rendering to the public a benefit of 
 the greatest magnitude. A patent was obtained for him, 
 in the first instance ; but circumstances, unnecessary to 
 mention in this place, prevented him from deriving any 
 benefit from it ; and thus the man whose labours have 
 been in so remarkable a degree useful to society, has al- 
 most been the only person in the island, who has not re- 
 ceived benefit from this meritorious and highly estima- 
 ble invention. Upon the feelings of a great and generous 
 nation, ever ready to patronize and reward genius, it is 
 hoped, the history given of Mr Mcikle's invention of 
 the thrashing machine, will not be lost ; and that he will 
 still have the satisfaction of knowing, that his country- 
 men are not insensible of the advantages derived from 
 his labours. Should any measure of remuneration be 
 adopted, it will perhaps give the promoters an additional 
 intererst in its success, when they learn, that this re- 
 spectable and truly worthy man, though in the ninetieth 
 year of his age, is in full possession of his faculties, and 
 likely to live many years. 
 
 In Virginia, and other countries, wheat is trodden out 
 by horses, nearly in the same way as it was formerly 
 
 done in Palestine by oxen. A short account of this 
 practice c unnot lie unacceptable to our readers. 
 
 Tlie treading iloors are generally Irom sixty to a hun- 
 dred feet diameter; but the larger tlieir diameter is, so 
 much easier is the work to the horses. The track, or 
 path, on v/hich the sheaves are laid, and on which the 
 horses walk, is from twelve to twenty-lour feel wide, or 
 more. The floors are commonly enclosed by fences ; 
 and the horses are generally driven between them pro- 
 miscuously and loose, each pressing to be foremost, so 
 that fresh air may be obtained, — biting, jostling, and 
 kicking each other with the greatest fury. The labour 
 in this way is extremely severe. Upon some small 
 floors, a centre slick is placed, to which hangs a rope, 
 or a pole and swivel, and four or five horses being fas- 
 tened together, travel round upon the sheaves with the 
 utmost regularity. Previous to laying down the wheat 
 sheaves, the slate of the air, and the probability of its 
 continuing dry through the day, is fully considered. If 
 they resolve to tread, the morning is suffered to pass 
 away till the dew is removed. A row of sheaves is first 
 laid upon the floors with the heads and buts in a line 
 across the track of it, as a bolster for receiving other 
 sheaves ; and these sheaves range with the path, or cir- 
 cle, the butts resting on the floor. Other sheaves are 
 ranged in like manner, with the heads raised on the 
 former, till the whole floor is filled, when it appears to 
 be filled with nothing but ears of wheat, sloping a litlle 
 upwards. Upon laying clown each sheaf, the band there- 
 of is cut with a kniie. A west wind is always desirable 
 while treading is going on, as when wind is from the 
 eastward, dampness generally prevails. 
 
 In some instances, twenty-four horses are formed at" 
 some distance from the floor into four ranks ; and when 
 the floor is ready laid, the word is given to advance. 
 For the sake of order and regular wort;, a boy mounted 
 on one of the foremost horses advances in a walk with 
 the whole rank haltered or tied together, and enters 
 upon the bed of wheat, walking the horses slowly over 
 it; another rank is ordered to follow as soon as the first 
 is supposed to have obtained a distance equal to a fourth 
 part of the circumference of the bed, and in the same 
 manner the other ranks proceed. They are forbidden 
 to go past a walk, till they have proceeded five or six 
 rounds, when the word is given to move at a sober trot, 
 and to keep their ranks at a full distance from each 
 other, regularity and deliberate movement being necessa- 
 ry for preventing confusion. The gentle trot is con- 
 tinued till it may be supposed the horses have travelled 
 eight or nuie miles, which is the extent of tlieir first 
 journey; they arc then led oft' to be foddered and water- 
 ed, v/hen the trodden light straw is taken off" as deep as 
 the place where the slieaves lie close, and are but par- 
 tially bruised. 
 
 As soon as this first straw is removed, one-third of 
 the width of the bed is turned over on the other two- 
 thirds from the inner side or circle of the bed, which 
 narrows the circle of the next journey. The horses 
 are again led on, and trot out their second journey, till 
 the straw be clear of wheat. The outer part of the bed 
 is then turned upon the middle part, when the horses 
 take anotlier journey. The loose straw being then ta- 
 ken off", the whole remaining bed is turned up from the 
 floor, and shaken witli forks and handles of rakes, after 
 which the horses give another tread, which finishes the 
 work. The grain is then shoved up from the floor w'ith
 
 256 
 
 AGIUCI XTURE. 
 
 heads of rakes uinicd downwards, and put into heaps of 
 a conical form, in which situation it often remains ex- 
 posed to the weather for several days. Tlie correct 
 American agriculturists, however, have houses adjoin- 
 ing to the treading llooi-, where the grain is deposited 
 till it is cleared from the chaff and oflal; though as 
 most of them continue treading, if the weather he fa- 
 voui-able, till the whole crop is separated from the straw, 
 it is pretty obvious that the gi-ain stands a considerable 
 chance of being damaged before the several processes 
 are concluded. 
 
 Were we to make any comparison betwixt thrashing 
 with a machine and treading by the feet of horses, the 
 result w'ould be entirely in favour of the former. Lay- 
 ing aside the great damage which the grain must re- 
 ceive when treading, by the dung. Sec. of the horses 
 during the process, we are almost sure that the ex- 
 pense of treading must be as great as that of thrash- 
 ing, independent of the consideration that the latter 
 process must more generally separate the grain from 
 the straw, than possibly can be accomplished by the 
 other. For farther uiformation on the construction of 
 thrashing machines, see Ferguson's Lectures, Appen- 
 dix, vol. ii. 
 
 Sect. VIII. 
 
 Of Fanners. 
 
 If thrashing machines are of much advantage to the 
 public, by separating corn completely from the straw, 
 the introduction of tanners, or the machine by which 
 corn is cleaned from chaff, and all sorts of oflal, may, 
 with justice, be considered as proportionally of equal 
 benefit to the practical agriculturist. At this day it 
 can hardly be conceived what difficulties the farmers 
 of ancient times were put to before the cleaning pro- 
 cess was accomplished ; though it may easily be ascer- 
 tained, that much loss was sustained, in numerous 
 instances, from corn remaining amongst the chaff, upon 
 the floor of a damp barn, till a natural wind rose suf- 
 ficient for accomplishing the necessary separation. 
 Since the introduction of artificial wind, these inconve- 
 niences and losses are completely rem.oved, to the great 
 accommodation of the farmer, and preservation of his 
 property. 
 
 To one of the same family, who afterwards invented 
 the thrashing- machine, we are indebted for the intro- 
 duction of fanners into this country, as can be proved 
 by the most satisfactory written evidence. In the year 
 1710, James Meikle, father of the inventor of die thrash- 
 ing machh'.e, was sent to Holland at the expense of the 
 celebrated Andrew Fletcher, Esq. of Salton ( a charac- 
 ter well known in the annals of that period,) to learn 
 the art of making pot-barley, and constructing barley- 
 mills ; both of which arts were then utterly unknown in 
 this country. As a preliminary to these purposes, ar- 
 ticles of agreement were entered into betwixt Mr Hen- 
 ry Fletcher, brother of the gentleman above-mentioned, 
 as taking part for his said brother, and James Meikle, 
 which articles are still extant, together witli a letter 
 from Andrew Fletcher, Esq. to the said James Meikle, 
 dated "Hague, 18th June, 1710," giving him directions 
 about making and purchasing several articles necessary 
 to be used in the erection of the barley-mill. This mill, 
 like every other barley mill, had a pair of fanners an- 
 nexed, and these fanners were the first ever employed 
 in Scotland. From being used at the barley-mill, they 
 
 were afterwards constructed upon a larger scale, and 
 employed for winnowing corn many yeara before the 
 thrashing machines were intioduccd. The fir.^t barley- 
 mill erected in Scotland was at Salton, in the county of 
 Haddingt'in ; and it is not many years since the original 
 pair of fanners, constructed and erected by James Meikle, 
 were laid aside, being then worn out and exhausted by 
 continual application. 
 
 It is not more than fifty years since fanners came to 
 be generally used in Scotland, before that time grain 
 being separated from the chaff by the action of wind 
 operating between the tv.o doors of a barn. In the 
 windward door, a person stood dropping the grain from 
 a sieve, or riddle, and in quantities proportioned to the 
 force of the wind at the time ; a process not imperfect, 
 when a good steady wind blowed, but not to be depend- 
 ed upon in many instances, when the grain was wanted 
 for seed, horse-corn, or the purpose of marketing. In 
 short, the inconveniences of that process of winnowing 
 are so evident, that they do not require to be enumera- 
 ted. They were, however, completely removed, in 
 consequence of the introduction of fanners, by which 
 the husbandman might clean his corn when he pleased. 
 Since thrashing machines were introduced, fanners al- 
 most in every case are annexed to them, and in some 
 instances, where powerful machines arc used, fitted in- 
 ternally with suitable riddles, it is perfectly practicable 
 to measure and market the grain immediately as it comes 
 from the machine. 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 On M.\NL"RES. 
 
 The practical farmer, without troubling himself con- 
 cerning the prhiciples of vegetation, or inquiring about 
 the food of plants, is perfectly satisfied, that by col- 
 lecting and applying what are called manures to the 
 land which he occupies, the fertility of the same is 
 augmented, and greater crops, either of corn or grass, 
 returned to him in the subsequent years, or so long as 
 the strength of the manure is not exhausted; but he is 
 equally satisfied, when the strength of the manure is 
 exhausted, that a repetition becomes necessary, other- 
 wise tiie ground would become sterile and unproduc- 
 tive. It is our intention to treat of manures in this 
 plain and expressive way, and chielly to limit our in- 
 quiries to what may be of practical advantage. Manure 
 is of the first importance to the farmer; and according 
 to the quantity which he collects, and the judgment 
 which guides the appropriation, his success will as- 
 suredly be regulated. 
 
 The term manure Is applied indiscriminately to all 
 substances, which are known from experience either to 
 enrich the different soils, or contribute in any other way 
 to render them more favourable to vegetation. 
 
 Though little doubt can be entertained of the utility 
 and necessity of such substances, yet the progress hi- 
 therto made, in ascertaining the mode in which they 
 ought to be applied, the quantity that should be made 
 use of, and the soils for which they are respectively best 
 adapted, has not yet reached that perfection or certainty 
 that could be wished. 
 
 The most superficial observation v.'ill serve to convince 
 any intelligent person, that, in an agricultural point of 
 view, the subject of manures is of the first magnitude. 
 To correct what is hurtful to vegetation in the different
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 257 
 
 soils, and to restore what is lost by cxliausting crops, 
 are operations ill agriculture whicli may be compared to 
 the curijig of diseases in the animal body, or supplying 
 the waste occasioned by labour, or the ordinary evacua- 
 tions of nature. 
 
 The utility of manuring has, however, been question- 
 ed in some instances, particularly by TitU and his disci- 
 pics, who assert that c/Z/as-e o/ojif, frequently and judi- 
 ciously applied, will produce every ell'ect that can be 
 expected from that practice. 
 
 That tillage is essential to the success of agricultural 
 operations, is a point in which all good husbandmen are 
 agreed ; but that by tillage alone, the earth should be 
 made to produce a succession of valual)le crops of grain 
 or vegetables, is a doctrine, which, fortunately for the 
 advancement of agriculture, has met with very few con- 
 verts. By such management poor lands would never 
 become productive, and the richest soils would soon be 
 exhausted. 
 
 Another opinion has been held forth to the public, 
 that when land has once been put into good heart, it 
 may be preserved in a state of constant fertility, merely 
 by a proper rotation of crops, without any foreign ma- 
 nure. 
 
 In some particular spots, where the soil is uncom- 
 monly rich, and has been long undisturbed by the plough, 
 and when great quantities of animal and vegetable mat- 
 ter have been accumulating for ages; this may, for a 
 considerable space of time, be the case. IJut if the 
 advocates for such a system assert, thato'/y land, when 
 once put into good order, will continue to pour forth an 
 endless succession of valuable crops, by means of ju- 
 dicious rotations alone, without any manure being made 
 use of, we pronounce the idea, with but very few ex- 
 ceptions, impossible. Indeed it might as well be sup- 
 posed, that any animal, after having made a full meal, 
 would contiaue to live, and perform every kind of la- 
 bour, without any farther supply of food. The con- 
 trary certainly is the case, both with regard to animals 
 and vegetables; for if the nourishment supplied is less 
 than the waste, the animal will die, and the soil become 
 barren. 
 
 We need not extend our observations upon this sub- 
 ject farther ; for a good firmer, who wishes to avail him- 
 self of every advaiitage which experience points out, 
 will, to a certain degree, adopt, 1st, The tillage recom- 
 7iiended by Tull, for the purpose ot pulverizing the soil, 
 and extirpating the weeds with which it may be infest- 
 ed; 2d, A r. gularroation ofcrofis,m order that the va- 
 rious sorts of earth may, in their turn, according as they 
 are calculated for diflereni plants, become productive ; 
 and, 5d, 1- yidcavoitr to gather a sufficient quantity of 
 ?namire, not only to prevent the soil from being exhaust- 
 ed, but, if possible, annually to make some addition to 
 its former sources of fertility. 
 
 But it is unnecessary to insist on this subject, as all 
 agriculturists are now agreed witli regard to the utility 
 of manures. It is of more iniponancc to give direc- 
 tions respectiiig their collection, preparation, and ap- 
 plication, as in these matters husbandmen, in many dis- 
 tricts, are evidently deficient. Manure has been, and 
 not unaptly, characterized as the magic wand of the 
 farmer; therefore every improvement in the processes 
 connected with its collection and appropriation, must 
 be regarded as eminently conducive to agricultural pros- 
 perity. 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 Sect. I. 
 
 On the Management of Dung. 
 
 Manure, taking the word in its broadest sense, be- 
 ing the first requisite of good husbandry, it shall be 
 our business, in this Section, to speak in a particular 
 manner of the best methods of collecting, preparing, and 
 applying that portion of it called y<;rHj yard dung, which, 
 in most instances, may be considered as the chief ma- 
 nure used by the great body of British husbandmen. 
 In discussing this subject, our observations shall be re- 
 stricted to matters of practice, which arc within the 
 reacli of every farmer, in every situation, and under 
 every circumstance. Such practical details are better 
 calculated to convey useful information, than abstract 
 disquisitions concerning the food of plants, and the like. 
 If manure is necessary for promoting the growth of 
 plants, it is of small importance to the farmer how, and 
 in what manner, tiie benefit is communicated. Manure 
 is beneficial, and that is sufficient. All that is farther 
 required, is knowledge concerning the best and most 
 approved way of increasing the C|Uantity, and of using it 
 ill the most advantageous manner. 
 
 The most superficial observer in rural economics 
 must have often noticed, that a considerable number of 
 practical agriculturists are inattentive, not only to the 
 gathering of the raw materials, but also detective in the 
 several steps of preparatory process, before dung can 
 be thriftily and suitably applied. With such, very little 
 care is used in cutting the corn crops, which, properly' 
 speakuig, is the only source whence raw materials can 
 be got. They are also too apt to dispose of any hay 
 which may be raised upon their farms, even when prices 
 arc not so high as to tempt a breach of good husbandry. 
 They often keep more beasts on the premises than is 
 consistent with the quantity of provender in hand, thus 
 reducing the stock of manure in an extraordinary de- 
 gree. Besides, seldom is any care bestowed in laying up 
 the dung, in a regular and careful way, during the win- 
 ter months, and still less upon its state during the ex- 
 hausting spring winds, or the parching heat of the sum- 
 mer months. Instead of storing it up with regularity, 
 and mixing the different kinds in a compact heap, it is 
 suffered to remain as tossed from the stable and byre ; 
 continues exposed, in its rough state, to the weather ; 
 often inundated with water, and rarely touched till the 
 cart arrives to drive it to the field. 
 
 As straw is the basis of manure, it might be expected 
 that every good husbandman would bestow the most se- 
 dulous attention upon the shearing or cutting of his 
 crop, so that the greatest possible quantity of the raw 
 material may be procured. Veiy different, however, is 
 the conduct of farmers in general; as over one half of 
 Britain, it may be safclv estimated, that at least one- 
 fourth of the straw is left in the field, where its strength 
 is wasted and dissipated by the rains and storms that 
 commonly prevail at the conclusion of autumn. In 
 some districts a stricter attention is now paid to this 
 important operation, and it is to be hoped that such an 
 improvement will gradually extend. Independent of 
 the additional grain which is gained, the increase of 
 manure will more than compensate the increased ex- 
 pense of reaping the crops in an accurate manner. 
 
 While it is recommended, that the crop should be cut 
 low, in order that materials for making manure may be 
 Kk
 
 2S8 
 
 AGRICULTUKE. 
 
 increased, we by no nieaiis conlcml for thai degree of 
 accuracy, which requires that not one stalk of the stub- 
 ble shall be of greater height than its neighbour; a 
 degree of perfection accomplished, perhaps, at a gi eater 
 expense than can be repaid by the benefit derived, espe- 
 cially when the value of labour is so enormously advan- 
 ced. This kind of cutting can only be obtained, from 
 putting a very small quantity into the hook at once, and 
 i-arcly makes a perceptible increase upon the bulk ; 
 whereas, by running the sickle upon the ground, draw- 
 ing a level stroke, and gathering no more into the liand 
 than can be fairly cut, all tlie advantages of low shearing 
 are obtained at a very trilling increase of expense. By 
 a steady perseverance m this practice, Irom one to two 
 tons of manure (per acre) may be annually gained, more 
 than was procured ni former times, especially where the 
 crops are good. This annual increase must operate 
 powerfully upon the improvement of the country, the 
 effects being precisely similar to those of adding com- 
 pound interest ; and, of course, i'urnislies the means of 
 gradually renderijig every acre of land in the kingdom 
 fertile and productive. 
 
 The usual mocies of converting straw into dung, hard- 
 ly require to be mentioned. A good deal is consumed 
 in the house by draught horses and niilch-cows ; much 
 is applied to the littering of turnip-cattle ; and the re- 
 mainder is used by lean cattle, kept in the fold-yard. 
 Though these are the general methods of consumption, 
 it will be necessary to divide the subject into two parts, 
 viz. The management of dung upon light lands, and 
 heavy lands; because manure on each is prepared in 
 different ways, used in different seasons, and applied to 
 different crops. For light soils, manure requires to be 
 much more highly prepared than is necessary for clay 
 soils; and every step of the previous preparation, in or- 
 der to be perfect, ought to be executed in a quite dif- 
 ferent manner. 
 
 For soils of the first description, where turnips are 
 taken as a first crop, dung can hardly be too well pre- 
 pared ; because the nature of the crop to which it is ap- 
 plied, renders a complete incorporation with the ground 
 absolutely necessary ; without which the young plants 
 might be starved at their very entrance into life. In 
 the best farmed English counties, which have come un- 
 der our observation, dung is often kept more than a 
 year, in order that it may be perfectly rotted : and the 
 late Mr Bakewell was in the habit of not applying it till 
 reduced to a state something like black snuff. Manage- 
 ment of this kind, however, cannot be approved of, for 
 if the preparatory steps are conducted with judgment, 
 there is rarely any necessity for keeping dung over the 
 vear upon turnip farms ; besides, such a delay causes a 
 waste of the article, and serves to dissipate its strength ; 
 at all events, a year's interest of the value of the in- 
 creased produce must be lost. In general cases there 
 is not much difficulty in preparing dung upon turnip 
 fanns; because, in the driest season, from the nature of 
 the food used, such a quantity of liquid passes from the 
 animals, as to prevent burning, provincially_/f;r^;7,g-i>!^, 
 the greatest obstacle to the rotting of dung that can be 
 experienced. If turnip dung is regularly removed ; if 
 it is properly mixed with the horse litter, and other ex- 
 crcmcntitious matter accumulated upon the farm, it will 
 be found an easy task to prepare all that is made by the 
 middle of April; at which time the fold-yard should be 
 cleared. What is produced after that time should be 
 stored up separately : receive waterings, if the weather 
 
 is dry; and be reserved for clover-stubbles, or other 
 fields that are to be dunged in autumn. 
 
 The middle of April is mentioned as a good time for 
 clearing the fold-yard ; but this does not prevent the 
 work Irom going partially forward through the winter, 
 when suitable opportunities occur. When driven out of 
 the fold-yard, die dung should be laid up in a regular 
 heap or pde, not excceUmg six quarters, or four feet 
 and a half in height ; and care should be taken not to put 
 either horse or cart upon it, which is easily avoided, by 
 backing the cart to the pJc, and laying the dung com- 
 pactly togetlier with a grape or loi k. It is also useful 
 to face up the extremities with earth, which keeps in 
 the moisture, and prevents the sun and wind Irom doing 
 injury. Perhaps a small quantity of earth strewed upon 
 the top might also prove useful. Dung, when managed 
 in this manner, generally ferments very rapidly ; but if 
 it is discovered to be in a backward state, a complete 
 turn over, about the first of May, when the weather be- 
 comes warm, will quicken the process ; and the better 
 it is shaken asunder, the sooner will the object in view 
 be accomplished. 
 
 A secluded spot of ground, not much exposed to 
 wind, and perfectly secure from being floated with wa- 
 ter, ought always to be chosen for the site of such piles 
 or heaps. If the field, to which it is to be applied, is 
 at hand, a little after-trouble may be saved, by deposit- 
 ing it there in the first instance : But it is found most 
 convenient to reserve a piece of ground adjacent to the 
 homestead for this purpose. There it is always under 
 the farmer's eye, and a greater quantity can be moved in 
 a sliorter time than when the situation is more distant. 
 Besides, in wet weather, and this is generally the time 
 chosen for such an operation, the roads are not only cut 
 up, by driving to a distance, but the field, on which 
 tlie heap is made, may be poached and injured consider- 
 ably. 
 
 The above is the most approved method of preparing 
 dung upon turnip or light land farms; and a few words 
 shall now be said respecting the management necessary 
 upon those of a different description. 
 
 Upon clay soils, where wheat forms a principal part 
 of the crop ; where great quantities of beans are cultiva- 
 ted, and lew turnips sown, unless for the use of milch 
 cows, the rotting of dung is not only a troublesome, but 
 an expensive affair. Independent of what is consumed 
 by the ordinary farm-stock, the overplus of tlie straw 
 must somehow or other be rotted, by lean cattle kept in 
 the fold-yard, who either receive the straw in racks, or 
 have it thrown across the yard, to be eaten and trodden 
 down by them. According to this mode of consumption, 
 it is evident that a still greater necessity arises for a 
 frequent removal of this unmade dung, otherwise, from 
 the trampling of beasts, and the usual want of moisture, 
 it would compress so much as altogether to prevent 
 putrefaction. To prepare dung sufficiently upon farms 
 of this description, is at all times an arduous task, but 
 scarcely practicable in dry seasons; for if it once gets 
 burnt, {Jire-fanged), it is almost physically impossible to 
 bring it into a suitable state of preparation afterwards; 
 and, at all events, its virtues are thereby considerably 
 diminished. The year 1803 furnished strong proofs in 
 support of what is here maintained ; for, owing to the 
 goodness of the weather during the winter and spring 
 months, less dung was driven out than us^.ial ; and the 
 consequence was, that on few clay farms was the dung 
 half rotted, even where the most anxious efforts were
 
 AGRICULTLltE. 
 
 bestowed upon watcving and turning it, when tlic season 
 advanced. The continued dryness of the weather was, 
 no doubl, an exception to that ol conunon seasons, and 
 increased the dithcuhies which, at ail times, are under- 
 gone in such situations ; but, had it been equally wet, as 
 it was dry, the propriety ol frequent removals would not 
 have been less urgent. Straw Hung out in considerable 
 portions to the lold-yard, after behig compressed by the 
 trampihig of cattle, becomes rather like a well-packed 
 stack, than a mass of dung in a preparatory state. The 
 small quantity of water and dung made by the animals, is 
 barely sufhcient to cause a slight fermentation ; and this 
 slight fermentation, when the heap gets into a com- 
 pressed state, is sure to bring on Jirc-fanging, as already 
 said; after which its original powers can rarely be re- 
 Stored. To prevent such an injury, no measure can be 
 so successfully used, as a frequent ren;oval of this un- 
 made dung, especially if the weather is wet at the time. 
 If people can stand out to work, there cannot be too 
 much wetness when executing this operation : for there 
 is always such a quantity of the straw that has not passed 
 through the entrails of the cattle, as renders it almost 
 impossible to do injury, in the first instance, by an ex- 
 cess of moisture. 
 
 It is therefore recommended, upon every clay-land 
 farm, especially those of considerable size, that the fold- 
 yard be frequently cleared ; and that the greatest care be 
 taken to mix the stable or horse dung in a regular way 
 with what is gathered in the fold-yard, or made by other 
 animals, in order that a gradual heat or fermentation 
 may be speedily produced. Where the materials are of 
 the sorts now described, (that is, a small quantity of 
 dung, or excrementitious matter, and a large store of 
 mirotten straw, only partially moistened,) no damage can 
 ensue from putting horses and carts upon the heap ; nay, 
 a positive benefit will be gained from this slight com- 
 pression. At the same time, we are aware, that the 
 sentiments of many able and judicious farmers are dif- 
 ferent on this point; it being their opinion, that the 
 natural pressure of the materials is quite suificient, and 
 that any additional pressure is accompanied with inju- 
 rious consequences. We are, however, satisfied, that 
 such ideas arc unfounded ; having tried both methods 
 upon an extensive scale, and, from the results, we feel 
 oiu'selves justified in recommending the above mode of 
 management. Perhaps this difference of sentiment may 
 arise from not attending to the very difl'erent qualities of 
 dung on different farms ; for the propriety of abstaining 
 from putting horses and carts upon such heaps or piles, 
 containing materials which can be called dung, even 
 though it may be in an unripe state, is already allowed. 
 It is contended, however, that no injury is sustained from 
 slightly compressing a mass of rough materials ; nay, 
 that such is attended with beneficial effects ; for, if the 
 materials were laid up with a fork, or a gmpe, as recom- 
 mended in the case of turnip or half rotten dung, the 
 small portion of moisture therein contained would 
 speedily be wasted or evaporated ; a circumstance which 
 often occurs, especially when dry weather succeeds the 
 period when the heap is made up. Besides, driving a one- 
 horse cart over a surface of materials only one stage re- 
 moved from the condition of dry straw, will never pre- 
 vent fermentation. If left in the fold-yard, the constant 
 treading of the cattle therein confined, and the daily 
 increased weight of the heap, may undoubtedly pro- 
 duce that evil; but this is effectually prevented, by fre- 
 quent removals, especially if rainy weather prevails at 
 
 the time. Few objects deserve to be more sedulously 
 attended to by every farmer who studies his own in- 
 terest. 
 
 The heap or pile, as already recommended, in the case 
 of turnip dung, should be formed in a secluded spot, il 
 such can be got at hand ; because the less it is exposed 
 to the influence of the sun and wind, so much faster will 
 fermentation proceed. It should be constructed on a 
 broad basis, which lessens the bounds of the extremi- 
 ties ; and several separate heaps are necessary, so tha( 
 too much may not be deposited at once, which, to a cer- 
 tain extent, would brin.g on the very evil wc have all 
 along been endeavouring to avert. By shifting the scene 
 frequently, and allowing each covering or coat to settle 
 and ferment, before layuig on any more, the most happy 
 effects will follow, and these heaps (at least all such as 
 are completed before the first of May,) may reasonably 
 be expected to be in a fit condition for applying to the 
 summer fallow fields, in the end of July, or first of Au- 
 gust. If the external parts get dry at any time during 
 the process, it will be proper to water them thoroughly, 
 and in many cases to turn over the heap completely. It 
 may be added, that much benefit has been experienced 
 from laying a thick coating of snow upon such heaps, 
 as, by the gradual melting thereof, the whole moisture 
 is absorbed, and a strong fermentation immediately fol- 
 lows. 
 
 The same method of management may be continued 
 during the summer months, so far as circumstances per- 
 mit, though it rarely happens that dung collected at 
 this advanced period is fit for use in the same season, 
 unless it be such as is made by keeping horses and cat- 
 tle in the house upon green food. Perhaps, as a gene- 
 ral principle, it is proper to thrash out all grain before 
 summer arrives, (a small quantity for litter and other 
 necessary purposes excepted,) in order that the full var 
 lue of the raw materials when converted uito manure, 
 may be gained. Straw thrashed in the summer months 
 always wants a good deal of its original strength ; it is 
 broken and hashed by the mills; therefore a large por- 
 tion must at once be thrown to the fold-yard, where its 
 strength is still more exhausted and dissipated. Even 
 when stacked carefully, it will be found next winter to 
 produce much less bulk of dung, than if it had been 
 used at the proper time ; and interest of the amount for 
 one year is lost; — all which things, added together, will 
 be found equal to one half of the original worth. 
 
 Upon large farms, where the management of manure 
 is sufficiently understood and practised, it is an impor- 
 tant matter to have dunghills of all ages, and ready for 
 use whenever the situation of a field calls for a restora- 
 tive. No method of application to clay soils, however, is 
 so beneficial as durmg the year of summer fallow, 
 though, in such situations, a greater stock of manure is 
 often gathered than is required for the fields under this 
 process. 
 
 After all, it must be acknowledged, that, under every 
 exertion, it seldom happens that dung on clay farms, 
 where turnips ai'e not grown, can be so well prepared 
 as upon those employed in the culture of that beneficial 
 root. This has induced many farmers to cross nature, 
 and attempt the cultivation of turnips, upon soils phy- 
 sically unfit for producing them with advantage; and 
 perhaps much money has been lost in carrying such 
 schemes into execution. Perhaps a clay-land farmer 
 had better submit to all the disadvantages acconipanving 
 the preparation of manure in his particular situation. 
 K k 2
 
 260 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 Ihan try to get ircc of thcia by the culture of turnips. 
 It is a consolutory circumstance, liowcver, that clay 
 soils have a good digestion ; ihey arc not so nice in 
 their food as gravels and sands, requiring only a good 
 bellyfull, and frequent meals. It likewise deserves at- 
 tention, that dung applied to a cluy fallow at the end of 
 summer, has full time to incorporate with the ground, 
 before the crop, sown thereupon, stands much in want 
 of its invigorating support; consequently, tliough of 
 apparent inferior quality at the lime of application, may, 
 in reality, be possessed of equal powers lor fructifying 
 the ground, as if it had reached a iiigher state of pie- 
 paration. 
 
 We may now notice some instances of slovenly ma- 
 nagement in our sister kingdom, respecting the manage- 
 ment of manure, particularly in the midland counties, 
 where grass husbandry is extensively practised. In 
 these districts, it is very common to use a considei-able 
 proportion of their hay in tlie fields, during the winter 
 months, instead of consuming it in the house or fold- 
 yard, where the manure produced could readily be col- 
 lected, and properly managed. Sloth and waste are the 
 parerits of this custom; a custom which ought to be in- 
 terdicted by every proprietor who is disposed to regard 
 either his own interest or that of the country; much of 
 the article being absolutely rendered useless by the feet 
 of the beasts so maintained, while the ground is most 
 unequally and partially dunged ; that is to say, the rich- 
 est and driest parts are sure to receive the greatest 
 store. 
 
 Some thoughts relative to the application of dung, a 
 subject of as much importance as the collecting and 
 preparing of it shall now be offered. According to the 
 plan suggested, the subject may be considered in two 
 points of view, viz. as connected with light and clay 
 soils; or, more particularly, as relative to soils on which 
 tuniips constitute the first or leading crop; and those 
 where naked summer fallow is the preparatory step of 
 the subsequent rotation. 
 
 Some previous remarks, connected with the right 
 management of dung in all soils, and in every situation, 
 are however necessary, so as repetition may be after- 
 wards avoided : these are, that no greater quantity ought 
 to be given at one time than is sufhcient to fructify the 
 ground ; in other words, to render it capable of produc- 
 ing good crops, before the time arrives when a fresh 
 dose can be administered. In a rotation oi four, one 
 dunging is supposed to be necessary, it being understood 
 that two culmiferous crops are only taken; but in rota- 
 tions of nixes and tightu, the common ones followed by 
 good farmers on heavy or wet soils, two dungings are 
 necessary; otherwise the crops raised will prove pro- 
 portionally defective, before the expiration of the courses. 
 It is evident that, under the common resources of ara- 
 ble land, such repetitions are impracticable, unless the 
 utmost frugality is studied in the distribution ; but where 
 this is neglected, a regular system can seldom be ad- 
 hered to. The errors of former times consisted in giv- 
 ing too great a quantity at once, thereby depriving the 
 ground of its regular nourishment; in other words, the 
 soil rioted in the midst of plenty for two or three years, 
 and fasted and starved for several succeeding ones. 
 Hence the generality of fields were either too rich, or 
 too poor; either saturated with mamirc, or completely 
 barren from the want of it ; whereas, had supplies been 
 furnished in an economical manner; had the quantity of 
 manure on hand been distributed with judgment, a more 
 
 unifona produce would have been the conscqticti(;.t. 
 The new system of applying manure, corrects all these 
 errors, in so far as local circumstances will permit. Ac- 
 cordingly, a small quantity is now bestowed at once, and 
 the dose frequently repeated. The ground is regularly 
 fed ; but never surfeited with a profusion oi victuals, 
 iienee the crops constituting a regular rotation are more 
 uniformly good, and a greater proportion of the valuable 
 grains are raised, than could be accomplished hi forniei 
 times. 
 
 Though land can rarely be rendered too rich for car- 
 rying green crops, yet it is well known that the same 
 observation will not hold good when applied to wheats 
 barley, and oats ; but that such may be, and often have 
 been, materially injured in consequence of heavy ma- 
 nuring. Look at the site ol a dunghill, and it will 
 rarely be found that a crop of good grain is produced 
 upon it. There is a great ilush of straw, often of bad 
 quality, and a small quantity of hiferior grain, little bet- 
 ter than if the labours of nature had ended in an abor- 
 tion. The like consequences, though certainly in a lesi; 
 degree, generally took place with the first crops of for- 
 mer times, after summer fallow and dung, especially if 
 the weather proved wet when the grain was filling; and 
 to a\oid such evils, many farmers, at this day, in the 
 neighbourhood of great towns, decline laying manure 
 upon their fallows, knowing that the vegetable food con- 
 tained in these lands, if reinforced with an additional 
 supply, would, in nine cases out of ten, prove destructive 
 to the ensuing wheat crop. It is also often observed, 
 tliat where a heavy coat of dung has been given to a 
 well wrought fallow, such a degree of fermentation 
 takes place in the succeeding spring, as altogether to 
 free the roots of young wheat from their natural hold ; 
 thus occasioning them to starve for want of nourishment, 
 though surrounded with abundance of food. 
 
 But, passing over these evils, and even upon the sup- 
 position that they never existed, still the practice of ad- 
 ministeruig manure in an economical manner may be 
 supported by arguments of a different nature. If a quan- 
 tity is bestowed sufficient to impregnate the ground, all 
 above that quantity deserves to be considered as pro- 
 fusely thrown away ; at least the benefit of it is in a great 
 measure sacrificed. Manure, upon many soils, is soon 
 deprived of its enriching powers; upon all, its strength 
 is dissipated and carried c.3' by heat, wind, and rain ; 
 therefore the oftener it is repeated, the greater will be 
 the benefit derived from the application. Let us not be 
 mistaken here. We are not arguing on the supposition, 
 that the farmer has it in his power to dung land at his plea- 
 sure, as may be the caseain the vicinity of great towns. 
 Our arguments merelv relate to the situation of the or- 
 dhiary farmer, w'homust act upon his own supplies; who 
 possesses but a limited portion of manure, and whose 
 care should be directed to manage that portion in such 
 a way as to derive from it the greatest possible advan- 
 tage. To make our meaning clear: — If one hundred 
 carts of dung, each containir.g one ton, or thereby, are 
 laid upon four acres of land, and the same quantity, and 
 of similar qualitv, is laid upon eight acres, we maintain 
 that a very considerable advantage will be derived in 
 the latter way, more than in the former; independent of 
 the stress that might be laid upon the circumstance of 
 keeping a great part of every farm in a penurious, con- 
 sequently in an unproductive state, when a profuse sys- 
 tem is adopted. 
 
 Another general remark occurs ; that is, concerning
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 261 
 
 the utility of spreading clung with accuracy; in other 
 words, dividing it iiuo the minutest parliclc;s, thereby 
 giving every pari of the ground an e(iual hupply of food. 
 This practice was niisciahly neglected in ibinier times, 
 and is still less attended to than its importance deserves. 
 In fact, few operations call more loudly for the atten- 
 tion of the farmer; and none in which a more general 
 improvement has taken place. The superficial and slo- 
 \enly way in which dung was formerly spread, must be 
 fresh in the memories of most people. In many instan- 
 ces, the big heap was only broken down, as it were, into 
 a number of small ones; and as for tearing or shaking 
 the dung asunder, such an idea then rarely entered into 
 the head of any man; though it is obvious, that without 
 making a complete separation, the article could neither 
 be sufliciently covered in, nor its virtues be conveyed to 
 the soil. Perhaps the increased attention now bestowed, 
 in all the cultivated districts, to the spreading of dung, 
 originated from the measure of limiting the quantity ap- 
 plied. When forty, fifty, nay even sixty double loads 
 were applied to an acre, it was not very difficult to cover 
 its surface, even with an imperfect separation, though it 
 certainly was impracticable to bury the big lumps with 
 a furrow of ordinary size ; but when the cpiantity was 
 brought down to eighteen and twenty loads, and, more 
 so, when twelve or fourteen loads were thought suliti- 
 cient, a different conduct became absolutely necessary. 
 Another improvement also followed, viz. spreading dung 
 when raw or green, that is, immediately after the carts; 
 in which way, at least during summer, it will be sepa- 
 rated at one half of tlie expense, and to much better 
 purpose than when it is suffered to lie in the heap for a 
 day or two. In short, it is a sure mark of a slovenly 
 farmer, to see dung remain unspread in the field, unless 
 it be in the winter months, when it may happen that 
 hands cannot be got for carrying on such operations 
 witii the usual regularity. At that time the injury sus- 
 tained by losing a few days is not great, though, as a 
 general rule, it will be found that the expense is always 
 smallest when the carts are regularly followed up. 
 
 Having made these preliminary remarks, we proceed 
 to say a few words on the application of dung. 
 
 When turnip husbandry forms the chief branch of 
 fallow process, dung is naturally of a superior quality) 
 and requires little artificial management for bringing it 
 to a proper state of preparation. In the greatest part of 
 Scotland, and even in England, where the drill and 
 horse-hoeing system is practised, the common, and 
 undoubtedly the most approved way of applying dung- 
 to turnips, is by laying it in the intervals of the drills 
 or small ridges, which are previously made up by a 
 bout, or two furrows of the plough. These drills or 
 ridges are formed at a distance of from 24 to 30 inches 
 from the centre of each ; and by driving the horses and 
 cart along the middle one of the space intended to be 
 manured, the dung is drawn out either by the carter, 
 or by another man specially appointed for that purpose, 
 in such proportions as the poverty of the soil, or the 
 disposition of the occupier, may reckon necessary. If 
 the breadth of three drills are only taken at a time, the 
 duns? stands a better chance of being regularly adminis- 
 tered ; for it often happens, that when a greater number 
 are included in one space, the two outside drills receive 
 a less quantity tlian the intervening ones. Those, there- 
 fore, who limit themselves to these drills, generally 
 divide the spreaders ; as it requires six hands, women 
 or boys, to follow up what is usually called a head of 
 
 carls, the number of carts to a head being regulated by 
 the distance of the ilunghilj, or tlie kind ot road over 
 which it is to be carried. Others, again, thinking that 
 by manuring only three drills at a tune, the travel of 
 the horses is greatly increased, and time wasted when 
 it is particularly precious, take five drills into one space, 
 and, by putting the strongest hands to the two outside 
 drills, making these go in front, thereby getting the 
 first of each heap, and placing an able confidential ser- 
 vant to assist and superintend the, whole, consider that 
 the work is equally well performed, wliilc a greater 
 (|uantity is put through their hands in a given time. 
 Both plans have their votaries, though the difference 
 between them is not of much consequence. The main 
 objects are, to provide a proper bed for the tiung, which 
 is easily done by holding a deep furrow when the drills 
 are first made up ; and to shake it well asunder, or di- 
 vide it into the smallest parts, so that an instant and 
 complete separation may take place. To accomplish 
 this in the most perfect manner, hand-work in some 
 places is resorted to ; but the common custom is to do 
 it with small light grapes, or forks ; and it is wonderful 
 how adroitly the spreading is performed by small boys 
 and girls, after they are a little time accustomed to the 
 task. 
 
 The quantity of dung usually given for turnips is 
 from twelve to fifteen double cart loads, of one and a 
 half cubic yards to a Scots acre. In some cases only 
 ten loads are given ; but the land ought to be in high 
 condition where such a small quantity is bestowed. In 
 fact, no soil can be made too rich for turnips or other 
 green crops, pease excepted ; but the oliject to be at- 
 tended to in this, and every other case, is an allotment 
 of the manure collected upon the premises, in such f 
 way as that the greatest possible return over the whole 
 farm, not from a particular field, may be gained by the 
 occupier. 
 
 As to the mode of applying dung to potatoes, a few- 
 particulars may be stated. The culture of this esculent 
 is in several respects similar to that of turnips, but in 
 others it differs materially. Potatoes are planted earlier 
 in the season than turnips ; the ground rarely receives 
 so much work ; the soils upon which they are cultivated 
 are more variable ; and the dung considered to be most 
 suitable for promoting their growth, does not require 
 such high preparation. ISIany farmers, notwithstanding 
 these circumstances, follow out the same process as 
 described under the head of turnips. After the ground 
 receives three, or at most four ploughings, the drills 
 are made up, dung deposited in the intervals, the seed 
 planted above the dung, and the drills reversed ; after 
 which, say at the distance of two or three weeks, a slight 
 harrowing is given. Several objections occur to this 
 mode ; such as, tliat the seed is generally kept too near 
 the surface, which, in dry seasons, proves unfavourable 
 to the crop ; the dung, unless it be very short, is apt 
 to be drawn up by the harrows, and the seed removed 
 from its original birth. These things induce other far- 
 mers (and probably they are right) to adopt a different 
 system: They avoid making up drills, but dung the 
 ground in what may be called the broad-cast way ; and, 
 entering the plough, plant the seed in every third fur- 
 row, into which only the dung is raked ; and so on till 
 the whole is finished. Before ihe young plants appear, 
 or even after they arc above the surface, a complete 
 harrowing is given, which is considered as equal to a 
 hand-hoeing ; and from the dung being completely co-
 
 262 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 vered, scarce any of it is dragged up, while the seed, 
 being undermost, none of it is disturbed by the opera- 
 tion. Both modes have their advantages and disadvan- 
 tages. Tlie first is carried on with less trouble, and 
 more regularity ; the last, ptrhaps wilh most advantage 
 to the crop, especially on lieavy soils — the seed furrow 
 loosening the ground more effectually than can be done 
 by the forming of diills. Several larmers do not dung 
 their potatoe fields ; but, reserving the manure till the 
 crop is removed, find the remainder of the rotation 
 greatly benefited. Potatoes scourge severely, and, in 
 general cases, require a larger quantity of dung than 
 turnips ; but as the extent of land under this culture 
 is not great in common farming, few people grudge 
 this extra quantity, because, except in a few favoured 
 situations, a good crop cannot otherwise be reasonably 
 expected. 
 
 We come now to the second branch of the subject, 
 the manuring of clay soils, or those where turnips are 
 Hot taken as a first crop. Such, it is presumed, include 
 at least three-fourths ol Great Britain, though recent 
 circumstances may have lessened their extent conside- 
 rably. 
 
 Upon all soils incumbent on a wet or close bottom, 
 whether characterized as clay, loam, or moor, it may be 
 laid down as a primary principle, that dung cannot be 
 so profitably applied, as while the ground is under trie 
 process of summer fallow. Tiieorists, and hall" bred 
 agriculturists, may reason as they please agtinst a 
 continuation of this ancient practice ; tliey may assert, 
 with the utmost confidence, that inuuense benefit would 
 be gained by laying it aside, and resorting to the drill 
 system ; but their arguments will have little effect upon 
 people practically acquainted with the management of 
 argillaceous soils, who do not take one season as a rule, 
 but are guided by the dictates of common sense, ac- 
 quired, during successive years, in the school of expe- 
 rience. Whatever dispute may have happened on this 
 subject among theorists, the opposite side of the ques- 
 tion is rarely espoused by actual farmers, who have 
 farmed wet lands ; even those whose practice in some 
 degree sanctioned a contrary opinion, or had been in- 
 fluenced to make temporary deviations by motives of 
 expedience, not by general principles. It is sometimes 
 necessary for stich to raise a few turnips, in order that 
 live-stock may be enabled to iTicet a market, or be pre- 
 served at a critical period ; others have partially resorted 
 to this culture, as the means of rotting dung, but, under 
 whatever impressions they acted, few or none ever 
 judged that such deviations could be defended upon 
 abstract principles, though certainly they might be sup- 
 ported by expediency and existing circumstances. In- 
 clined to believe that such are the ruing sentiments 
 of British agriculturists, we shall enter upon the im- 
 portant question, How, and in what manner, can dung 
 be most profitably applied to clay lands, or those, of 
 whatever variety they may be composed, as are incum- 
 bent upon a close bottom or sub-soil r 
 
 It has already been noticed, that when the ground is 
 under the process of summer fallow, it is then the best 
 and most appropriate time for applying manure to clay 
 soils. Wlien under this process, the soil, comparatively 
 speaking, is reduced into minute particles, which af- 
 fords an opportunhy of conveying the virtues of manure 
 through the veins or pores of all its parts. The soil, 
 at that time, is also freed from its aboriginal inhabitants, 
 quickens and other root-weeds, who claim a preferalsle 
 
 right of support ; hence the artificial plants, afterwardb 
 cultivated, possess, without a rival, such supplies as 
 have been granted, without any deduction whatever. In 
 short, without laying any stress upon elementary effects 
 during the process, it does not admit of a doubt, that 
 the same quantity of manure, bestowed upon the ground 
 when summer fallowed, will produce a greater return, 
 to the occupier, tliau if it had been applied at any other 
 stage of the rotation. 
 
 Under these impressions, it appears that dung should 
 not be laid upon fallows before they are completely 
 cleaned ; though, no doubt, in wet summers, that ope- 
 ration is not easily accomplished. To make sure work, 
 the fallows, if possible, should be early stirred, and no 
 opportunity slipped of putting them forward with the 
 utmost expedition ; for it rarely happens, at least in 
 Scotland, that much good can be done towards the de- 
 struction of root-weeds after the month of July. Before 
 that time, a judicious farmer will have his fallow dressed 
 up, and in a suitable state for receiving dung. It should 
 be well harrowed, if the weather is favourable, previous 
 to the dung being laid on ; and if rolled, or made smooth, 
 the spreaders will be enabled to perform their task with 
 much more precision. 
 
 At the proper season, every other operation ought to 
 be laid aside, so that dung may be expeditiously drove 
 out. To do it in wet weather is attended with perni- 
 cious effects ; the horses are oppressed, a longer time 
 is required, the land is poached, and in some measure 
 deprived of all benefit from the previous fallow. These 
 circumstances will be reflected upon by the attentive 
 farmer ; they will stimulate him not to lose a moment 
 when the weatiier is favourable, and prevent him from 
 forcing on the work, when injury rather than benefit 
 may be expected. After all, seasons are sometimes so 
 perverse, as to render every rule nugatory. These must, 
 however, be taken as they come ; avoiding at such times 
 to break the land down, acclivating the ridges suffi- 
 ciently, and keeping the water-furrows completely clear. 
 By attending to these matters, opportunity may be laid 
 hold of, by the active farmer, several days sooner than 
 by his slovenly neighbour; or at least the work will be 
 executed in a much more perfect way than if they had 
 been neglected. 
 
 The quantity of dung usually applied to fallows in 
 ordinary condition is from fourteen to twenty double 
 loads per Scottish acre ; though often good crops are 
 reaped when twelve loads only had been given. So 
 much, however, depends upon the condition of the land, 
 upon the quality of the dung, and the way in which the 
 carts are loaded, that no precise meaning can be com- 
 municated by such expressions. A decent load may 
 contain one cubic yard and three-fourths, and weigh a 
 ton, or thereby. It also deserves notice, that less dung 
 will serve some lands than others, especially if they 
 have lately been ploughed from grass ; but, at all events, 
 sixteen such loads as are mentioned will answer for any 
 sort of soil, unless it has been previously quite wrought 
 out. Even if it were in this forlorn state, it is bet- 
 ter management to dung upon the stubble of the first 
 crop, than to give an over-dose when under summer 
 fallow. 
 
 All dung laid upon summer fallow ought to be spread 
 the moment it is pulled out of the cart. It can at no 
 other time be done so well, or so cheap ; though, on 
 many farms, small ones especially, where a full supply 
 of hands are wanting, this beneficial practice is much nc-
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 263 
 
 g'lected. Four spreaders, boys or girls, with an atten- 
 tive ovtrsniun to ioUow up, and sujjply any omissions, 
 are sufficient lor one head of carts; Uic number includ- 
 ed in a head being regulated by tiie distance ol the held 
 from the dungliill. Some farmers employ a person, on 
 whom they can depend, to draw the dung from the cart, 
 who has judgment to proportion it according to circum- 
 stances, and is respon.^iblc for any failure in tlie execu- 
 tion ; but the carter is the person usually employed, 
 though, unless a boy is given him to drive, a regular 
 distribution can hardly be expected. To insure accu- 
 racy in laying down, fields arc sometimes thrown into a 
 dam-broad figure ; and, a heap being drawn out into each 
 square, you could have nearly ascertained the quantity 
 required for the whole. The great object, after a regu- 
 lar and economical distribution, is to shake and part the 
 whole completely ; as, by minute attention to this cir- 
 cumstance, a much greater effect is necessarily pro- 
 duced. 
 
 After the fallows are dunged, the remainder in hand 
 is reserved for what may be called the intermediate 
 dunging, generally bestowed either upon clover stub- 
 bles, upon wheat stubbles previous to taking beans, or 
 upon bean stubbles before the seed furrow is given for 
 wheat. It is obvious, that the farmer must be regulated, 
 m this intermediate dunging, by the weather at the 
 time, thougli it rarely happens but that dung may be got 
 out upon clover stubbles at one time of the winter or 
 other. When applied to beans, a beneficial practice, 
 the dung, as we said above, is by some people laid upon 
 the wheat stubbie, and ploughed down before winter ; 
 hence it is in full action in the spring, when the seed 
 furrow is given. Others make up drills at seed time, 
 depositing the dung in the intervals, as for turnips or 
 potatoes; but it seldom occurs that weather can then be 
 got, at least on real bean soils, for executing this ma- 
 nagement. 
 
 It remains only to be stated, that many arable farms, 
 mider the strictest economy, are unable to furnish sup- 
 plies for an intermediate dunging, at least to its full ex- 
 tent ; but persons so circumstanced have it always in 
 their power to overcome this defect, and preserve a re- 
 gular rotation, by keeping certain fields longer in grass ; 
 which of course will yield weightier crops when broken 
 up, and stand less in need of manure during the after 
 rotation. As, for instance, in a rotation of six, and it is 
 here that the greatest short-coming is felt, grass seeds 
 to a certain extent, say a half, may be thrown in with the 
 crop of wheat taken after fallow, which is the second 
 year of the rotation ; this part may be pastured for three 
 years, and broken up in the sixth for oats, which con- 
 cludes the course. Again, in a rotation of eight, grass 
 seeds, in like manner, may be sown witli a part of the 
 fallow wheat, which part can be pastured for three years, 
 then broken up for oats, succeeded by beans and wheat. 
 By such arrangements, made according to circumstan- 
 ces, it is an easy matter to preserve a regular rotation, 
 and to proportion the corn crops to the quantity of ma- 
 nure collected upon the premises. 
 
 We may add, that the practice of soiling or feeding 
 horses and cattle in the house or farm-yard, is eminently 
 calculated to increase the quantity of manure upon every 
 farm, and to improve its quality. 
 
 The soiling of horses, in the summer months, on 
 green clover and rye-grass, is a jn-actice which prevails 
 in every corn district where farm labour is regularly 
 executed. The utility of the practice does not need the 
 
 support of argument ; for, it is not only economical to 
 the farmer, but saves much fatigue lo the poor animal : 
 besides, the ()uaniity of dung thereby gathered is consi- 
 derable. 
 
 Reilecting upon the advantages of this practice, it has 
 often occurred to us, that cattle, /. c. oxen and cows of 
 all sorts, might be sujjported and fed in like manner 
 during tlie whole of tlie grass season. Ii is well known 
 that milch-cows have, in several instances, been so kept; 
 but it has rarely happened, that other descriptions of 
 cattle have been fed for the butcher according to this 
 mode, though it is perfectly practicable. No doubt a 
 considerable degree of trouble necessarily attends the 
 measure, but this is an objection that may be urged 
 against every scheme for improvement. It was urged 
 against summer-fallow at its introduction, and is still 
 urged in several districts against the drilling of turnips. 
 Ii the advantages, however, which would attend a gene- 
 ral soilhig, exceed the trouble which it occasions, we 
 apprehend the measure is not to be combated on this 
 ground. 
 
 Let any person, for a moment, view a field of grass 
 depastured with cattle, especially if the weather is wet, 
 and he will soon be convinced of the great loss sustained 
 from the feet of the animals, and of the waste which is 
 made in consequence of their roaming at large. Per- 
 haps it may be estimated, that in general cases, near 
 one half of the grass is, by this means, rendered use- 
 less ; at least wc are certain, from feeding milch-cows 
 in the house, that one half of the extent of land will 
 suffice for house-feeding, that is required when depas- 
 turing is practised. Probably another advantage would 
 follow. The land, from being covered with grass, would 
 not only produce an increased quantity, but also be great- 
 ly benefited by the exclusion of air before the grass was 
 cut or removed. When depastured, it is obvious, that 
 none of these things can happen. If the grass was eaten 
 any thing bare in the beginning of the season, its future 
 growth must be stopped by the drought which usually 
 prevails in the early part of summer; and when the 
 ground is not fully covered with plants, the benefit of the 
 grazing system, towards the improvement of land, is 
 only partially experienced. 
 
 lint the chief benefit of soiling may be considered as 
 arising from the immense quantity of fine dung which 
 would thus be accumulated, and which can be returned 
 to the ground in the succeeding season, after being pro- 
 perly fermented and prepared. In all corn firms, at least 
 those of clay soils, it is a work of great difficulty»to rot 
 the straw produced upon it ; and much of it is misap- 
 plied in consequence of such soils being naturally unfit 
 for raising green winter crops. A sense of this has in- 
 duced many farmers to attempt turnips in situations not 
 qualified for raising them with profit; but even these 
 attempts, tliough in some respects useful, by converting 
 a part of the straw into dung, do not fully answer the in- 
 tended purpose. The superfluity which remains after 
 the turnip season is over, (and this upon corn farms often 
 exceeds a third of the crop,) is seldom used in a benefi- 
 cial way. If stacked in the yard, it is bleached and dried 
 by the sun and wind ; and when used in the next season, 
 is found to be unfit for the support of animals, being 
 divested of the powers which it originally possessed. If 
 a numerous stock of cattle were kept either in the house, 
 or in separate divisions of the fold-yard, all the straw 
 thrashed in the summer months might be immediately 
 converted into dung, the quality of which would be equal,
 
 264- 
 
 AORICULTURE. 
 
 if not superior, to wliat is made IVom turnips consumed 
 at the siiilic. 
 
 To carry on this mode of feeding in a regular way, 
 it would be necessiuy to have a considerable quantity 
 of tares sown at diiTercnt times, so that the interval 
 betwixt the first and second crop of clover might be 
 filled up. Perhaps early sown turnips might prove an 
 useful substitute. A stack of hay would also be neces- 
 sary, in the event of bad weather setting in, or circum- 
 stances occurring to prevent a regular supply of green 
 food. 
 
 From considering the time taken to cut and bring 
 home grass for farm horses, we are led to think, that 
 one man and a boy, with a single horse cart, would be 
 able to supply thiriy head of ordinary sized cattle with 
 cut grass, if the crop was middling good, say one that 
 would yield two hundred stones of hay per acre, and 
 the distance of the field from the homestead not exceed- 
 ing half a mile. If the beasts were tied to a stake, it 
 would require an additional hand to litter and clean 
 them; but in small fold-yards, well supplied with wa- 
 ter, and provided with a shade to which the animals 
 might retire in a hot sunny day, this mode of feeding 
 would be most eligibly executed. Perhaps the number 
 put into each yard should not exceed six or eight, and 
 they should be as equally matched as possible. 
 
 In this way, the farmer of clay soils may be equally 
 benefited by green crops, as those of a light and gravelly 
 nature, where turnips are generally raised. The only 
 difference would be, that they would feed at different 
 seasons, or at the time best suited to the circumstances 
 in which they are placed. Dung, as has been already 
 said, is the mother of good crops ; and it appears that no 
 plan can be devised by which a large quantity can be so 
 easily and cheaply gathered, or by which straw can be 
 so effectually rotted and rendered beneficial to the oc- 
 cupier of a clay land farm, as the soiling of grass in the 
 Runmier season. The author of this article here speaks 
 from experience, having practised the soiling system for 
 several years ; and without saying more in its favour, 
 can safely state, that the quantity, and, what is still of 
 greater importance, that the quality of his dung has 
 tliereby been greatly extended and improved. In a 
 word, the dung of animals fed upon green clover, may 
 justly be reckoned the richest of all dung. It may, from 
 the circumstances of the season, be rapidly prepared, 
 and may be applied to the ground at a very early period, 
 much earlier than any other sort of dung can be used 
 with advantage. The subject will afterwards be noticed, 
 when the management of grass land is under considera- 
 tion, and the advantages arising from it, will be more 
 particularly described. 
 
 Sect. II. 
 
 Of ComJiOHt I\Iiddcns. 
 
 The use of manure in the shape of compost, or ingre- 
 dients of various qualiiies, mixed together in certain 
 proportions, has long been a favourite practice with 
 many farmers; though it is only in particular situations 
 that the practice can be extensively or profitably exe- 
 cuted. Tlie ingredients used in these composts arc 
 chiefly t,arth and lime ; sometimes dung, where the earth 
 is poor ; but lime may be regarded as the main agent of 
 tile process, acting as a stimulus for bringing the powers 
 of the hi ap into action. Lime, in this view, may be con- 
 sidered as a kind of yeast, operating upcHi a heap of earth 
 
 as yea"t does upon flour or meal. It is obvious, llicrc- 
 fore, that unless a sufficient quantity is given, the heap 
 may remain unfermented ; in wliich case little benefit 
 will be derived from it as a manure. 
 
 The best kind of earth for compost is that of the allu- 
 vial sort, wnich is always of a rich greasy substance, 
 often mixed with marl, and in every respect well calcu- 
 lated to enrich and invigorate barren soils, especially if 
 they are of a liglit and open texture. Old yards, deep 
 head-lands, and scourings of ditches, offer themselves 
 also as the basis of compost middens ; but it is proper to 
 summer-fallow them before hand, so that they may be 
 entirely free of weeds. When the lime is mixed with 
 the soil of these middens, repeated turnings are neces- 
 sary, that the whole may be suitably fermented ; and 
 some care is re(|uired to apply the fermented mass at a 
 proper time to the field on which it is to be used. 
 
 The formation and conveyance of compost being ex- 
 pensive, it becomes an important object to save labour in 
 the previous steps of preparation, and in the concluding 
 one of applying it to the soil. Tlic first part of the ob- 
 ject is gained by using horse instead of manual labour, 
 when the lime is incorporated with the earth, and when 
 the after turnings are bestowed ; and the other is lessen- 
 ed considerably when the compost is laid on a field ad- 
 joining the one where it is prepared. 
 
 A few words mav be necessary with respect to the 
 quantity of lime required to produce a suilatile fermen- 
 tation, though here we can at best but speak at random, 
 because the proper quantity falls to be regulated by the 
 nature of the earth wnich is meant to be used as the ba- 
 sis of the future compost. As the quantity of the com- 
 post to be aft rwarcis applied to the soil must, however, 
 be ascertained by its quality, and as sixty cubic yards of 
 alluvial compost may be viewed as coiitaining the same 
 portion of nutritive substance, as one hundred yards of 
 headlands and ditch scourings, we shall assume eighty 
 yards as a medium dose for a Scotch acre of ground, and 
 from this datum endeavour to fix the quantity of lime 
 that IS required. From trials that we have frequently 
 made, it appears, that two bushels of lime shells, Win- 
 chester measure, will sufficiently ferment a cubic yard of 
 earth of a medium quality ; therefore, that forty bolls of 
 lime-shells, wheat measure, or twenty-six and two-thirds 
 barley measure, are required to ferment compost for an 
 acre of ground, where the basis consists of ordinary ma- 
 terials. This goes upon the supposition that an admix- 
 ture is regularly conducted, and that eighty cubic yards 
 of the compost is sufilcient to impregnate or enrich the 
 field on which it is to be applied. 
 
 The benefit of such a compost in nourishing soils is 
 even greater than what is gained by dressing them with 
 dung ; though it is to be regretted, that it rarely happens, 
 where such soils arc predominant, tiiat materials such as 
 we have recommended can be procuied in any quantity. 
 Another sort of compost has therefore been recently 
 tried, and with tolerable success. Should a repetition 
 prove equally successful, or the first trials be fully con- 
 firmed by the experience of others, agriculture will be 
 benefited in a quarter where the art was hitherto consi- 
 dered as naturally incapable of improvement. 
 
 On this subject, lord Meadowbank, oiie of our su- 
 preme judges, has lately favoured X.\\t public with a small 
 pamphlet, containing directions for making compost 
 dunghills of peat-moss. We therefore use the freedom 
 of borrowing his lordship's directions, trusting that there- 
 by the public good may in some measure be promoted.
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 '265 
 
 "Lot the peat -moss, of which compost is to be 
 formed, bo tliiowii out of the pit lor some ■weeks or 
 months, in order to lose its i'eduu(kint moisture. By this 
 means, it is rendered the lighter to carry, and less com- 
 pact and weighty, when made up with fresh dung for 
 lermentation ; and, accordingly, less dung is required 
 for the purpose, than if the preparation is made with 
 peat taken recently from the pit. The peat taken from 
 near the surface, or at a considerable depth, answers 
 equally well. 
 
 " Take the peat-moss to a dry spot, convenient 
 for constructing a dunghill to serve the held to be ma- 
 nured. Lay the cart-loads of it in two rows, and of the 
 dung, in a row betwixt them. The dung thus lies nearly 
 on an area of the future compost dungiiill, and the rows 
 of peat should be near enough each otlier, that workmen, 
 in making up the compost, may be able to throw tiiem 
 together by the spade. In making up, let the workmen 
 begin at one end ; and at the extremity of the row of 
 dung, (which should not extend quite so far at that end 
 as the rows of peats on each side of it do,) let them lay 
 a bottom of peat, six inches deep and fifteen feel wide, 
 if the grounds admit of it ; then throw forward, and lay 
 on, about ten inches of dung above the bottom of peat; 
 then add from the side rows about six inches of peat ; 
 then four or five of dung, and then six more of peat ; 
 then another thin layer of dung ; and then cover it over 
 with peat at the end where it was begun, at the two 
 sides, and above. Tlie compost should not be raised 
 above four feet, or four feet and a half high; other- 
 wise, it is apt to press too heavily on the under pai'ts, 
 and ciieck tlie fermentation. When a beginning is thus 
 made, the workmen will proceed working backwards, 
 and adding to the column of compost, as they are fur- 
 nished with tiic three rows of materials directed to be 
 laid down for them. They nmst take care not to tread 
 on the compost, or render it too compact; and, of con- 
 sequence, in proportion as the peat is wet, it should 
 be made up in lumps, and not much broken. 
 
 In mild weather, seven cart-loads of common farm- 
 dung, tolerably fresh made, is sufficient for twenty-one 
 cart-loads of psat moss ; but in cold weather, a larger 
 proportion of dung is desirable. To every twenty-eight 
 carts of the compost, when made up, it is of use to throw 
 on, above it, a cart-load of ashes, either made from coal, 
 peat, or wood; or, if these cannot be had, half the quan- 
 tity of slacked lime may be used ; the more finely 
 powdered the better. But these additions are nowise 
 essential to the general success of the compost. 
 
 "The dung to be used should either have been re- 
 cently made, or kept fresh by compression ; as, by the 
 treading of cattle or swine, or by carts passing over it. 
 And if there is little or no litter in it, a smaller quantity 
 will serve, provided any spongy vegetable matter is 
 added at making up the compost, as fresh weeds, the 
 rubbish of a stack-yard, potatoe-shaws, sawings of tim- 
 ber. Sec. And as some sorts of dung, even when fresh, 
 are much more advanced in decomposition than others, 
 it is material to attend to this ; for a much less propor- 
 tion of such dung as is less advanced, will serve for the 
 compost, provided care is taken to keep the mass suffi- 
 ciently open, either by a mixture of the above mentioned 
 substances, or, if these are wanting, by adding the peat 
 piece-meal ; that is, first making it up in the usual pro- 
 portion of three to one of dung ; and then, after a time, 
 adding an equal quantity, more or less, of moss> The 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 dung of this character, of greatest quantity, is shamble- 
 dung, with which, under the above jjrecautions, si-: 
 times the ([uantily of peat, or more, may be piepared 
 The same holds as to pigeon dung, and other lowl dung 4 
 and, to a certain extent also, as to Uiat which is collec- 
 ted from towns, and made by animals that feed on grauis, 
 reiuse of distilleries. Sec. 
 
 " The compost, alter it is made up, gets into a general 
 heat, sooner or later, according to the weather, aiKi t.iC 
 condition of the dung : In sunmier, in ten days or sooner ; 
 in winter, not perhaps for many weeks, it the cold is 
 severe. It always, however, has been found to come on 
 at last; and, in summer, it sometimes rises so high as 
 to be mischievous, by consuming the materials (fire- 
 tanging). In that season, a stick sliouui be kepi in it in 
 difl'ercnt parts, to pull out and leel now and Uien ; for, if 
 it approaches to blood-heal, it should elliier be watered, 
 or turned over ; and, on such an occasion advantage 
 may be taken to mix it with a liitle fresh moss. The 
 he-at subsides, after a time, and with great variety, ac- 
 cording to the weather, the dung, and the perlection of 
 the making up of the compost ; which then should be 
 allowed to remain untouched, till within three weeks of 
 using, when it should be turned over upside down, and 
 outside in, and all lumps broken : then it comes into a 
 second heat ; but soon cools, and should be taken out for 
 use. In this state, the whole, except bits of the old de- 
 cayed wood appears a black free mass, and spreads like 
 garden mould. Use it, weight for weight, as farm-yard 
 dung ; and it will be found, in a course of cropping, iully 
 to stand the comparison. 
 
 " Let it be observed, that the oljjcctin making up the 
 compost, is to form as large a hot-bed as the quantity of 
 dung employed admits of, and then to surround it on all 
 sides, so as to have the whole benefit of the heat and ef- 
 fluvia. Peat, nearly as dry as garden-mould in seed-time, 
 may be mixed with the dung, so as to double the volume 
 and more of it. \Vorkmeii must begin with using lay- 
 ers ; but, when accvistomed to the just proportions, if 
 they are furnished wilh peat moderately dry, and dung- 
 not lost in litter, they throw it up together as a mixed 
 mass ; and they improve in the art, so as to make a less 
 proportion of dung serve for the preparation. 
 
 " The addition, recommended, of ashes or lime to the 
 compost, is thought to favour the general perfection of 
 the preparation, and to hasten the second heat. The 
 lime laid on above the dunghill, as directed, is rendered 
 mild by the vapours that escape during the first heat. 
 
 '' Compost, made up before January, has hitherto been 
 in good order for the spring crops ; but this may not hap- 
 pen in a long frost. In summer, it is ready in eight or 
 ten weeks; and if there is an an.xiely to have it soon 
 prepared, the addition of ashes, or of a little lime rub- 
 bish of old buildings, or of lime slacked with foul water, 
 applied to the dung used in making up, will quicken the 
 process considerably. 
 
 " Lime has been mixed previously with the peat ; but 
 the compost prepared with that mixture, or with the 
 simple peat, seemed to produce equally good crops. 
 All the land, however, that it has been tried on, has been 
 limed more or less within these twenty-fiv; years. 
 
 " The rich coarse earth, which is frequently found on 
 the surface of peat, is too heavy to be admitted into this 
 compost ; but it makes an excellent top-dressing, if 
 previously mixed and turned over with lime. 
 
 " Peat, prepared with lime alone, has not been found 
 
 Xj 1
 
 266 
 
 AGllICULTURE. 
 
 to answer as a good manure. In one instance, viz. on a 
 Ijii of fallow, sown with wheat, it was manifestly per- 
 nicious." 
 
 Sect. III. 
 
 Of Lime. 
 
 Lime has been regarded by some as a manure, by 
 others as a stimulus, which can only be profitably ap- 
 plied where the soil possesses some dormant principle 
 of fertility that needs to be roused into action, in lact, 
 the inodun ojicrandi of lime is imperfectly understood, 
 though tlie greater part of agriculturists seem pretly 
 well acquainted with its effects. It is sufficiently un- 
 derstood, that land which has been long in grass, contains 
 much vegetable matter, and that the trouble and ex- 
 pense of limhig it will be amply repaid to the cultivator ; 
 but the propriety of applying lime on old arable lands 
 has been questioned, and with much justice, by the most 
 part of practical agriculturists, and their doubts on that 
 head are confirmed by the fullest experience. If lime 
 were a manure, tlicn it would be a noble substance for 
 enriching and restoring fertility to lands that were worn 
 out by a succession of corn crops ; but as worn out land 
 is not restored to fertility by the applicalion of lime, we 
 are warranted to rank it in a different class, or, to speak 
 more correctly, as an article calculated to bring certain 
 principles into action, which were previously possessed 
 by the soil. This conclusion is sanctioned by experience ; 
 and experience is a far belter guide than the most plau- 
 sible theory. 
 
 Lime has been used with very great success in every 
 part of Great Britain, though it is evident that the gros- 
 sest errors have been committed in the after manage- 
 ment of laud to which lime has been applied ; and, what 
 is worse, that the extent of these errors was in direct 
 proportion to the effect produced upon the soil by the ap- 
 plication. This remark applies more to the former 
 state of husbandry than to the preseiit practice, because 
 the {'oriner rule was to crop so long as the earth would 
 make a good return, without considering that a field, so 
 treated, was not to be recovered for a century afterwards. 
 Indeed, when lime duly operates, the whole powers of 
 the soil arc put in a state of requisition, and may be for- 
 ced to act till the very soul of vegetation is extracted. 
 It is scarcely practicable to restore fertility to land, even 
 of the best natural quality, which has been thus abused ; 
 at least a considerable period must elapse before it can 
 be restored to its original fertility ; but thin moorish soils, 
 after being exhausted by lime, are not to be restored. 
 To lime them a second time, is not only a useless expen- 
 diture of labour and money, but also productive of se- 
 rious mischief. Soils of this description, after a second 
 liming, are apt to singe and burn the grain that is sown 
 upon them, and even when dunged, not to make such a 
 return as would have been rendered under difl"erent cir- 
 cu'!: stances. 
 
 It is a difnriilt matter to say at what period the use of 
 lime was first introduced into Britain ; but as it was well 
 known to the Romans, there is good reason to believe, 
 thTt by this ingenious people, the use of it was first 
 brought into practice in this island. Be that as it may, 
 this mineral, after undergoing the process of calcination, 
 h, ■ long been applied by British husbandmen as a stimu- 
 lus to the soil, and, in consequence of such an applica- 
 tion, luxuriant crops have been produced, even upon 
 sfjils apparently of inferior quality, and which would 
 
 have yielded crops of trifling value, had this auxiliary 
 been withheld. In fact, the majority ol soils cannot be 
 cultivated with advantage till iliey are dressed with 
 lime ; and whether this beneficial effect shall be con- 
 sidered as an alterative, or as a stimulant, or as a manure, 
 it will be found to be the basis of good husbandry, and 
 of more use than all other manures put together. 
 Wherever lime has been properly applied, it has con- 
 stantly been found to prove as nuich superior to dung, as 
 dung is to the rakings of roads, or the produce of a peat 
 mire. 
 
 From a pretty long experience, and considerable at- 
 tention to the operation of lime, we are inclined to think, 
 that it acts both as an alterative and a stimulant, opera- 
 ting in the one case as a medicine, that changes the na- 
 ture of the soil, and in the other, as rousing, or bringing 
 into action, the vegetable powers contained in the soil, 
 wliich without such an application, would have remained 
 dormant and inactive. These opinioiis, we know, are 
 different from what have been maintained by several in- 
 genious men on the subject; but they are supported by 
 the result of numerous trials, undertaken to ascertain 
 how, and in what manner, lime operated upon the soil, 
 and whether it could be used in a hot or rffcte state with 
 the most advantage. On these points, theoretical writers 
 are apt to fall into mistakes ; and therefore every theory^ 
 not formed from facts, must be viewed as a romance 
 which may amuse, but cannot instruct agriculturists. 
 
 The writer of this article, for a period of thirty years, 
 has been in the regular habit of applying considerable 
 quantities of lime ; indeed few of his profession have 
 used more of tliis useful article. In the majority of 
 cases, the application has been highly beneficial to his 
 hiterest, changing in a manner the very nature of the 
 soil, and causing it to produce the most abundant crops ; 
 whereas in others, the article has been altogether use- 
 less, and in some instances the application has been 
 followed by mischief instead of benefit. As most of these 
 trials were executed upon a large scale, and upon soils 
 of almost every diflerent quality, more benefit may be 
 gathered from a succinct account of them than from a 
 long chain of argument. The trials are fairly stated, 
 and the results may perhaps throw some light upon this 
 abstruse subject. 
 
 It is proper to premise, that a good deal of uncertainty 
 prevails with agriculturists, respecting the application 
 of this article ; and that much dispute has taken place 
 among those who have applied it only to one kind of 
 soil, or who have not used it under dilTerent circumstan- 
 ces. Some have contended, that lime ought to be ap- 
 plied op-ly when it is in a hot powdered state ; and that 
 when it becomes eff'ete, the elTects are comparatively 
 trifling and unavailing. Others maintain, that grass 
 land is the best bed for the reception of lime, while many 
 of our most enlightened farmers strenuously affirm, that 
 it is most judiciously used when the land gets a complete 
 summer-fallow. It would not be difficult to prove, 
 that each class of disputants, in the view they take of the 
 subject are er|ually in the right ; and that they only con- 
 demn the system of others, because their own has 
 turned out to be successful. Our opinion is, that, in 
 every case where the land is constitutionally disposed to 
 receive benefit from a calcareous dressing, that is, when 
 it is refreshed by grass, or enriched bv dung, it is of 
 little importance, in respect of operation, whether lime 
 is applied hot or efffte ; upon grass land, or upon fallow ; 
 and that convenience ought chiefly to be studied, when
 
 AGlllCULTUUE. 
 
 2G7 
 
 tlie most proper lime for applying the article is to be 
 asccrtaiiiccl. In point ot economy, there can bo no 
 doubt, but that lime is most economically used, when 
 laid upon land hot Iromthe kiln : this mode also lessens 
 the expense of labour considerably ; consequently the 
 practice of using it when effete is more expensive. It 
 is obvious, however, that a choice of season is not al- 
 ways in tlie farmer's power ; and that imposing neces- 
 sity often obliges him to lay on lime when completely 
 effete. Repeated trials, however, have convinced us, 
 that its operations are equally beneficial in the one state 
 as in the other ; though the expense in the last case, as 
 already said, is greater than in the former. With regard 
 to the other branch of dispute, whether land in grass, or 
 land in fallow, is the most proper bed for the reception 
 of lime, we are of opinion, that the diflierence is imma- 
 terial. If grass land is clean, and if lime can be got for- 
 ward at the time, the application will be as efficacious 
 upon it, as upon the richest and best wrought summer- 
 fallow. 
 
 That these things are not matter of opinion, we mean 
 to show, by detailing the results of the trials made to 
 ascertain the facts. To render these details more per- 
 fect, we shall mention the nature of the surface and sub- 
 soil upon which the several trials were made, and ex- 
 plain the state of the ground at the time; and, when 
 necessary, the management practised for a series of 
 years afterwards. 
 
 Field, No. 1. was soil chiefly composed of thin clay, 
 some of it approaching to a moorish quality, ;. e. mixed 
 with peat earth ; the whole incumbent upon a subsoil 
 retentive of moisture. 
 
 This field had been iii grass for several years, but 
 yielded very poor returns. It was fallowed without 
 taking any corn crop ; and the lime which was brought 
 forward during the summer months, was applied in the 
 following spring, previous to the seed-furrow being 
 given. At that time, it was completely effete., and would 
 hardly go fronr the shovels. About 45 Linlithgow bar- 
 ley bolls, or 280 Winchester btishels, as originally laid 
 down, were applied to each Scottish statute acre. 
 
 First year — The crop was oats, but little benefit was 
 discovered from the lime. 
 
 Second year — The ground began to ferment, which 
 showed, that the lime was in action. The husbandry 
 of flax being then in vogue, it was tried upon this field ; 
 and the crop was excellent, both in respect of flax 
 and seed. 
 
 T/im! year — It was sown with gray pease after two 
 furrows, which returned a great bulk of straw, but not 
 much grain. The clay part of the field was now quite 
 loose and free, while the moorish soil seemed more 
 compact and firm. 
 
 Fourth year — Red wheat was sown, which turned out 
 a bulky crop, though the season was adverse. The straw 
 was hard, bright, reedy, and of great length. Perhaps 
 the greatest quantity of dung applied at once, would 
 not have produced such a crop. 
 
 Fifth year — The field was summer-fallowed, but no 
 dung was applied. 
 
 Here it may, with justice, be urged, that a great 
 error was committed in withholding dung at this stage ; 
 and it is acknowledged, that a dose of manure, had cir- 
 cumstances permitted, could not have been more bene- 
 ficially bestowed. In vindication of the management 
 practised, we may only state, that at the period in ques- 
 tion, dung was a very scarce article upon the farm ; 
 
 and that many fields would not ci'op at all, if it was with- 
 held. Tiie one under consideration, appeared quite 
 capable of carrying several more crops, without assist- 
 ance ; consequently viewing the economy of the farm 
 as a whole, it was tliought preferable to act in the man- 
 ner described. Many things are eligible in general 
 management, which cannot be individually executed ; 
 and, as in public aft'airs, a partial evil must often be com- 
 mitted, M promote the general good. 
 
 Sixth year — The field was sown with oats, and pro- 
 duced a heavy crop, both of straw and corn. Grass 
 seeds were sown with the oats. 
 
 Sevetilh year — The field was depastured with cattle. 
 The grass was but uiditferent, which is a common cir- 
 cumstance upon new limed land ; at least where a heavy 
 dose is given. This Liduced us to plough it again, in 
 the succeeding spring. 
 
 Eighth year — Oats were sown, which yielded a de- 
 cent crop. 
 
 jVinth year — The field was thoroughly summer-fal- 
 lowed and dunged, at the rate of sixteen double loads to 
 the Scottish acre. Wheat was sown. 
 
 Tenth year — The crop of wheat was excellent, being 
 not only bulky, but of fine quality. 
 
 Eleventh year — Oats and grass seeds were sown, and 
 the ground surrendered to pasture. Since that time, 
 it has been a few years under corn ; and though the 
 produce of these crops cannot, by any exertion, be made 
 to equal those which are enumerated ; yet the soil is 
 evidently much improved in every respect, when com- 
 pared with its orighial state, previous to the lime be- 
 uig applied. 
 
 Field, No. 2. was a real moorish soil, incumbent upon 
 a close bottom, which had been over-cropped after 
 lime, by a former tenant. 
 
 We began with a summer-fallow, and applied a part 
 of the same kind of lime which answered so well upon 
 field No. 1. The lime, was laid on during a hard black 
 frost, at the rate of 35 bolls, or 210 bushels per acre, 
 and was then effete. Oats were sown ; but the crop 
 was a poor one, and the after attempts were not more 
 successful. The stalk of the plant generally singed and 
 decayed, after the strength of the seed pickle was 
 gone ; which is a sure proof of ground being worn out 
 vixXh lime. This will always happen, though in different 
 degrees, upon all such land, unless a considerable quan- 
 tity of dung is bestowed ; which unfortunately, in this 
 instance, was not the case. 
 
 Field, No. 3. — The soil was of a moorish quality, but 
 superior to that of No. 2. 
 
 We fallowed the field out of grass, and applied lime 
 hot from the kiln ; but the consequences were much the 
 same as mentioned in the preceding instance. The 
 oat-crop looked brisk at first, but decayed daily, as the 
 strength of the pickle was exhausted. Tried dung 
 with a second fallow, when the lime appeared to ope- 
 rate in a trifling degree, but not to that extent as to 
 repay the expense incurred. 
 
 Field, No. 4. — The soil was partly thin clay, the rC' 
 mainder of a soft sandy nature, but all upon a wet 
 bottom. 
 
 This field had lain, for a great many years, in grass, 
 and displayed no signs of having been previously limed. 
 We applied the lime upon the grass surface, when it 
 was effete,, and ploughed for oats : the crop good. The 
 lime did not come into full action till the third year, 
 when pease were sown ; and, for a number of years 
 L 1 2
 
 268 
 
 VGRTCULTURE. 
 
 afterwards, the tlifTLreiii ..tops taken were ikA inferior to 
 those of the best in tielcl. 
 
 Field, No. 5. — The soil was cliiefly a. soft loam upon 
 a wet bottom; which, at any rate, had not been limed 
 since the ridges were lev»iled and straightened. 
 
 We summer-fallowed tliis lield, alter a crop of wheat, 
 and dunged it substantially, as it appeared to be in an 
 exhausted state. We applied lime hot from the kiln, 
 at the rate of 40 bolls, or 240 bushels per acre, which 
 operated immediately. It is now sixteen years since 
 the application ; during which time, the field has been 
 only three years in grass, and yet its effects have not 
 ceased. 
 
 Field, No. 6. — The soil was a strong loam incumbent 
 upon clay, which had carried five crops of grain after 
 being ploughed from old grass. 
 
 We summer-ialiowcd and dunged this field ; applied 
 lime also, which was laid on hot from the kiln, in the 
 ■month of August, after six ploughings were given. 
 The quantity applied was forty barley bolls per acre ; 
 which, in less than a month, occasioned a fermentation 
 of the soil, something similar to what is produced by 
 yeast upon unbaken bread. In one respect, the improve- 
 ment made upon this field by lime was conspicuous. 
 Barley could, with difficulty, be raised before lime was 
 used ; whereas, afterwards, fine crops of this grain were 
 procured with facility. The ground was likewise 
 much easier ploughed and harrowed than formerly, 
 which is always a sure token of an improvement being 
 accomplished. 
 
 Field, No. 7. — The soil was generally a thin sharp 
 loam, a great part of it incumbent upon a close bottom. 
 It had been three years in grass, and was sown down in 
 good order; and, therefore, was a proper subject for 
 receiving lime upon the sward. There was reason to 
 believe that lime had been applied by a former tenant, 
 but this was not certain. After harvest, we laid on 
 from thirty-five to forty bolls per acre, not thinking tlie 
 soil required a heavy dose. It was partly hot, and 
 partly effete, as generally happens at that season of 
 the year. 
 
 First year, oats were taken ; the crop good. Second 
 year, drilled beans, with intervals of twenty-seven in- 
 ches ; the ground being twice ploughed before sowing, 
 and four times horsc-hocd ; crop middling. Third 
 year, wheat after one ploughing, which yielded a ftill 
 average crop. Fourth year, it was imder summer-fal- 
 low ; to which 12 double loads of dung per acre were 
 given. Fifth year, in wheat; crop excellent. Sixth 
 year, in drilled beans, which were managed as above. 
 Seventh year, wheat ; crop above mediocrity. Eighth 
 year, barley, with grass seeds, after three ploughings ; 
 which, though the season was adverse (1799), turned 
 out a decent crop. Ninth year, under grass, which 
 was pastured with cattle, and not inferior to any in the 
 country. 
 
 It may be objected, that the above is hard cropping. 
 This may be the case ; but we are far from acknowledg- 
 ing that hard cropping, in certain cases, is inconsistent 
 with good farming. The expense of lime in general 
 is so great, that a necessity for hard cropping may be 
 said to be thereby created. Besides, this necessity is 
 increased by the general shortness of leases, which im- 
 pedes every permanent improvement ; and, in the usage 
 of lime calls for the utmost exertion of tlie tenant, that 
 he may be reimbursed his extraordinary outlay and 
 trouble. 
 
 Fii Id, No. 8 — The soil was chiefly loam, though 
 of dill'crcnt varieties, and mostly incun»bcnt upon » 
 close bottom. 
 
 This field, which consisted of fifty acres, had been 
 copped for time immemorial ; and, when we entered t<« 
 the larm, was so tired with carrying wheat, that is wah 
 scarcely worth the ploughing. It was therefore laid 
 down to grass with all convenient speed. In this state 
 it remained five years, when it was broken up again ; 
 thirty acres having been limed upon the sward, at the 
 rate of forty barley bolls per acre. Sonie of the lime 
 was laid on three years before ploughing, some of it 
 two years, and the remainder a few days before the 
 ploughs entered. Part of it was liot, part of it effete ,• 
 but the efl'ects over the whole field, even in the first 
 year, were nearly the same ; if there was any diU'erence, 
 the ridges last limed fermented most, but the crop was 
 etjually bulky wherever the lime had been applied ; 
 though, upon the twenty acres unlimed, the inferiority 
 was evident. From this it appears, that it was not ne- 
 cessary to apply lime to grass land one or two years be- 
 fore it was broken up, as inculcated by several writers 
 upon husbandly ; a practice, at any rate, not reconcilea- 
 ble with economy, as much of the lime is washed ofl 
 the surface, and carried away by rain before the ground 
 is ploughed. 
 
 Field, No. 9. — The soil was chiefly thin clay, incum- 
 bent upon a bottom of till ; consequently, subject to 
 receive injury from wetness. This field had been 
 severely scourged by the preceding tenant ; had been 
 injudiciously straigthcned, which is a fatal measure to 
 such soils ; had been limed previous to the straigthen- 
 ing ; but, at our entry, was wholly under crop, and in an 
 exhausted state. 
 
 After being simuner-fallowed, in as perfect a way as 
 circumstances permitted, this field was laid down in 
 grass, and depastured with cattle for several years. 
 Lime (the greatest part of which was in an effete ttate) 
 was applied upon the sward during the winter months ; 
 and, in February following, the field was ploughed for 
 cats. The crop was middling good ; but, in the six 
 subsequent years, it did not appear that much benefit 
 was gained from the application. In the eighth vear, 
 however, the lime acted vigorously ; a small part of 
 the field which remained unlimed, being at least 50 /irr 
 cent, inferior in crop, though the management, in every 
 other respect, had been sinuiar. 
 
 It is diflicult to account for this cessation of action 
 during so long a period, though it is believed that in- 
 stances of the like nature are not unfrequent upon secon- 
 dary soils. Whether a deeper ploughing had been given 
 in the preceding season, which might bring the lime to 
 the surface ; or whetiier the original poverty of the soil 
 precluded the lime from operating, till it was assisted by 
 a copious application of dung, are circumstances not 
 easily ascertained. In our opliiion, the lime was brought 
 into action by the dung bestowed ; though it would be 
 rash to state, as a matter of foct, what, at best, is only a 
 probable conjecture. 
 
 Field, No. 10. — The soil was of various qualities. 
 Part of it a thin loam ; part of a sandy nature, and the 
 remainder approaching to a thin clay ; but all upon a bot- 
 tom retentive of moisture. After pasturing the field for 
 one year, we applied lime upon the sward, at the rate of 
 40 Linlithgow barley bolls, or 240 bushels per Scots 
 acre. The lime was partly hot; but the greatest part 
 of it was effete, which must necessarily be the case when
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 2C,9 
 
 lime is /luttcd, unless the Tints are completely covered. 
 No difference, however, was discovered in the operation, 
 from the state in wliich the article was applied. 
 
 J''irst year — The crop was oats. The season being 
 excessively dry, little benefit was got from the lime. 
 
 Second year — We fallowed the Held completely, and 
 dressed it with dung, at the rate of fourteen double loads 
 per Scots acre. 
 
 Third year — We sowed barley and grass seeds. The 
 crop of barley was very good. 
 
 Fourth year — The field was depastured with cattle. 
 
 Fifth year — It was ploughed lor oats. Crop excellent. 
 
 Si.ith year — We drilled the field with pease and beans, 
 after two ploughings, which were managed as already 
 described ; the crop was of great bulk, and produced 
 fully nine bolls per acre. 
 
 Hcventh year — Wheat was sown, and the crop was ex- 
 cellent. 
 
 Field, No. II. — The soil was of an inferior kind of 
 loam, upon a close bottom. The year when this field 
 was last under summer-fallow, we applied lime to a part 
 of it, by way of trial. Dung was given likewise. We 
 sowed barley and grass seeds. We took a crop of hay, 
 and ploughed for oats. Every one of these crops >vas 
 strikingly superior, where lime had been given ; indeed, 
 the superiority was recognisable at a considerable dis- 
 tance. 
 
 Field, No. 12. — The soil was chiefly a heavy deep 
 loam ; some of it a strong, tenacious red clay but almost 
 wholly incumbent upon a close bottom. 
 
 We ploughed this field from old grass, and sowed 
 it with oats. It was summer-fallowed in the second year, 
 and dressed with lime, which was mostly applied hot 
 from the kiln ; being drawn from the cart in regular 
 sized heaps of five pecks each, or thereby, and spread 
 the moment it was slaked by rain, or atmospherical 
 moisture. About two-thirds of the field received 50 
 barley bolls, or 300 bushels per acre ; the remainder 
 from 60 to 70 bolls per acre ; and the operation appear- 
 ed to be in direct proportion to the quantity applied ; 
 nor was there any distinction discernible, betwixt what 
 was applied hot, and what was completely effete ; some 
 of it, indeed, the season being remarkably wet, was 
 nearly in a mortar state : the whole answered well, and 
 operated immediately. 
 
 It was noticed, in this field, that a few ridges, on which 
 the lime was spread in a windy day, carried crops rather 
 inferior to those of the contiguous ones : we apprehend 
 that the most valuable particles of the lime had been 
 carried off'; and would recommend, that spreading should 
 be discontinued, when a high wind arises. 
 
 Much difference of opinion having prevailed, relative to 
 the quality of the several limestone quarries in the neigh- 
 bourhood, a trial was made of lime from each of them, 
 upon six adjoining ridges of the above field. Though 
 a difference to the eye was visible in almost every one of 
 these samples, yet the effect upon the ground was from, 
 all of tl-.em, precisely siinilar ; nor could the most accu- 
 rate judge say which was the greatest. The quantity 
 applied in each case was the same ; and the operations 
 of laying on the lime, spreading it, and ploughing the 
 ground, were all carried on in an unifonn manner. 
 
 Field, No. IS. — Consisted of loam of different varie- 
 ties, upon a bottom inclined to wetness, and the ridges 
 lyi: 5: in a broad and serpentine state. 
 
 We ploughed for oats, and then took drilled beans, 
 Tvhich were succeeded by wheat. The first and last 
 
 crops suffered much from the grub. We fallowed the 
 field in the fourth year, cleaving in different breadths, 
 and cross-ploughing the ridges, alternately, till the sur- 
 face Avas completely levelled ; ihen formed the ground 
 into eighteen feet ridges, applied twelve double cart 
 loads of dung, about one ton each, and fifty barley bolls 
 of lime, to the Scots acre. The lime was laid on hot 
 from the kiln, and spread as fast as it was pulverized. 
 This ([uantity was found rather too much for the softest 
 part of the field, which, after all, is a circumstance 
 that rarely happens ; but on the remainder the fermen- 
 tation was not greater than necessary ; and from this 
 part of the field, the best crops have been procured, 
 though the ridges were both higher and broader, and 
 required more levellings than the other. 
 
 We may now draw a few plain and practical infer- 
 ences from what is stated. 
 
 1st, That lime operates equally well, whether applied 
 in a hot or effete state, provided the condition of the 
 ground upon which it is used, be such as to render a 
 calcareous application beneficial. 
 
 2dly, That, in respect of operation, it is immaterial 
 whether lime be used upon grass land or summer-fal- 
 low, and that objects of conveniency ought chiefiy to 
 weigh with the farmer in ascertaining the most proper 
 time for applying this article. Upon old grass land, it 
 is perhaps best to plough first, and to summer-fallow in 
 the second year, when lime can be applied. On new 
 and clean grass land, hesitation is supcrlluous ; it may 
 be limed at the outset, that is, before the plough is ad- 
 mitted. 
 
 3dly, That to lime moorish soils is a hazardous busi- 
 ness, unless dung is likewise bestowed ; but to repeat 
 the application upon such soils, especially if they have 
 been severelv cropped, is almost a certain loss, and thai 
 a compost of lime and rich earth is, in such cases, the 
 only substitute. 
 
 4thly, That strong loams and clays require a full dose 
 to bring them into action ; such soils being capable of 
 absorbing a great quantity of calcareous matter. Lighter 
 soils, however, require less lime to stimulate them, and 
 may be injured by administering a quantity that would 
 prove moderately beneficial to those of a heavy nature. 
 
 5thly, That upon fresh land, or land in a proper state 
 for calcareous application, lime is much superior to dung. 
 Its effects continue for a longer period ; while the crops 
 produced are of a superior kind, and less susceptible 
 of injury from the excesses of drought and moisture. 
 Finally, the srround, particularly what is of a strong na- 
 ture, is much easier wrought ; and, in many instances, 
 the saving of labour would almost tempt a judicious 
 farmer to lime his land, were no greater benefit derived 
 from the application, than the opportunity thereby gain- 
 ed of working it in a perfect manner. 
 
 It may be added, that though strong soils require to 
 be animated with a good dose of lime, those of a light 
 texture will do equally well with little more than half 
 the quantity requisite on the others, especially if they 
 are fresh, or have not already received an application 
 of calcareous matter. In every case it is the farmer 
 only who can judge of the quantity to be given ; but, 
 as a general principle, it is safer to exceed the proper 
 quantity than to he below it. In the latter case the ap- 
 plication may prove useless, and the whole expense be 
 lost ; whereas it rarely happens that injury is sustained 
 from an excess, especially if more or less dung is soon 
 after administered.
 
 270 
 
 AGBICULTUKE. 
 
 Sect. IV. 
 On Marl. 
 
 Marl, like lime, may be viewed as a stimulant, forcing 
 the soil to produce crops of corn and grass, wiiich other- 
 wise would not have been obtained. Marl has been long 
 known to the husbandmen ol" Great Britain ; and, if we 
 give credit to Pliny, this article was used prior to the 
 Roman invasion. Several kinds are enumerated by the 
 ancient Latin v/riters, arid all ot them ileclare, that the 
 Koil was greatly enriched by the application of marl. 
 
 In many parts of this island, the value of land has 
 been much augmented by the application of marl. Treat- 
 ing of this article in a practical way, it may be divided 
 into shell-marl and earth-marl. Shell-marl is composed 
 of animal shells dissolved ; earth-marl is a fossil. The 
 colour of the latter is various; white, black, blue, red, 
 and its hardness is as various as its colour ; being 
 sometimes soft and ductile like clay, sometimes hard 
 and solid, like stone, and sometimes it is extended 
 into thin beds, like slate. Shell-marl is easily distin- 
 guished by the shells, which always appear in it ; but 
 the similarity, betwixt earth-marl and many other fossil 
 substances, renders it difficult to distinguish them. 
 
 Shell-marl is very different in its nature from clayey 
 and stone marls, and, from its effects upon the soil, is 
 commonly classed among the animal mamu-es. The 
 Rev. Mr Dickson states," That it docs not dissoh^e with 
 water, as the other marls do. It sucks it up, and swells 
 Avith it like a sponge. It is a much stronger attractor 
 of acids than they." Dr Home says, that it takes six 
 times more of acids to saturate it, than any of the other 
 marls, which he had met with. But the greatest differ- 
 ence, betwixt the shell-marl and the other marls, consists 
 in this ; the shell-marl contains oils. It is uncertain, if 
 the other marls contain any oils ; but this kind, it is said, 
 contains them in great plenty, 
 
 This marl, it would seem, from the qualities which it 
 possesses, promotes vegetation in all the different ways. 
 It increases the food of plants ; it communicates to the 
 soil a power of attracting this food from the air ; it enlar- 
 ges the pasture of plants ; and it prepares the vegetable 
 food for entering their roots. 
 
 The shelly sand, often found deposited in beds in the 
 crevices and level parts of the sea coasts, is another 
 substance capable of being employed, both as a manure 
 and stimulant, not only on account of its containing cal- 
 careous matter in greater or less proportions, but also 
 from the mixture of animal and vegetable substances 
 that are found in it. The portion of calcareous matter, 
 contained in these suljslances, must vary according to 
 circumstances ; but, when the quantity is any way large, 
 and in a reduced or attenuated state, the quality is so 
 much the more valuable. On that account, the quantity, 
 which ought to be applied to the soil, must be regulat- 
 ed entirely by the extent of calcareous matter, supposed, 
 or found upon trial, to be contained in the article, which, 
 as already said, is very variable. 
 
 The clayey and stone marls are distinguished by their 
 colours ; viz. white, black, blue, and red. The white, 
 being of a soft crumbly nature, is considered to be the 
 best for pasture land ; and the blue, which is more com- 
 pact and firm, for corn land. In the districts where 
 marl is much used, these distinctions of management 
 are attended to, though either of the kinds maybe em- 
 ployed with advantage, if the following rules are ad- 
 hered to. 
 
 If marl is of the blue kind, or of any kind that is com- 
 pact and firm, lay it upon the land early in the season, 
 so as the weather may mellow it down before the last 
 plough ; and, if on pasture land, let it also be early laid 
 on, and spread very tiiin, breakuig any lumps afterwards 
 which are not completely separated by the first spread- 
 ing. If marl ii of the wliite, or ai.y of the loose or crum- 
 bling sorts, it need not be laid on so early ; because those 
 varieties break and dissolve almost as soon as exposed 
 to the weather. 
 
 There are many kinds of impure and mixed marls, 
 such as sandy, clayey, loamy, and stony marls, accord- 
 ing as these varieties of soil are incorporated or mixed 
 with the principal substance. These sorts, of course, 
 are inferior to the pure marls ; but the stony kind is 
 considered to be the best, because its efficacy is more 
 lasting, though the fat and crumbling kinds enrich or 
 operate more speedily. The hard marls, however, in 
 every case, operate for the greatest length of time, and 
 are often followed with bad consequences to the soil, un- 
 less good management; with regard to cropping, is ex- 
 ercised during the period of their operation. After be- 
 ing long excessively fruitful and productive, the soil 
 will gradually b'^come so sterile and barren as scarcely 
 to be worth cultivating ; in which case, the greatest 
 exertion can hardly procure a return of fertility. In 
 this respect, the effect of over-cropping land, that has 
 been marled, is precisely the same as takes place with 
 lime. An uncommon exertion is made, occasioning a 
 proportionable debility, though, were good husbandry 
 studiously practised, the exertion would neither be so 
 excessive, in the first instance, nor the after-conse- 
 quences so mischievous. In numerous instances, land 
 has been reduced so much, as to be thought little better 
 than useless, by the effects of lime and marl. Both, 
 however, are excellent agents in forwarding agriculture, 
 though often their agency has been misapplied, and used 
 for mischievous purposes. Under a correct rotation of 
 cropphig, and with a suitable supply of dung, neither 
 lime nor marl is injurious. Reverse these circum- 
 stances, and the contrary effect must necessarily be pro- 
 duced. 
 
 Sect. V. 
 
 On Sea- Weed, or Alga Marina. 
 
 Sea-weed, a plant that grows upon rocks within the 
 sea, is driven ashore after storms, and is found to be an 
 excellent article for manuring light and dry soils, though 
 of little advantage to those of a clayey description. This 
 article may be applied on the proper soil with advantage 
 to any crop, and its effects are immediate, though rarely 
 of long continuance. As the coast-side lands of the 
 island are, in every case, of superior fertility to those 
 that are inland, we may attribute this superior fertility 
 to the great quantity of manure found upon their shores 
 after every storm or high tide, whereby the resources 
 of the ocean are in a manner brought forward for the 
 enrichment of the lands locally situated for participa- 
 ting in such benefits. The utmost attention has long 
 been paid to the gathering and laying on of this valuable 
 manure ; and, from the extensive line of British shores, 
 both of the main sea and of the numerous estuaries which 
 indent, and as it were divide the main land, an immense 
 quantity of sea-weed must annually be collected from 
 them. 
 
 Sea-weed is applied at all seasons to the surface, and 
 sometimes, though not so profitably, it is mixed with
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 271 
 
 iinrottcn dung, Ihat the process of putrcfacuon may be 
 hastened. Generally speakiiis;-, it is at once applied to 
 the soil, which saves labour, and prevents that degree 
 ol waste, which otherwise would necessarily happen. 
 Sea-weed is, in one respect, preferable to the richest 
 dung ; because it does not produce such a (juantity of 
 weeds. Some have thougiit, that the weeds vipon land, 
 which has received clung, are produced by seeds mixed 
 with the dung ; but it is reasonable to presume, that the 
 salts contained in sea-weed, and applied with it, may be 
 the real cause of the after-cleanUness. This may be in- 
 ferred from the general state of coast-side lands, where 
 sea-weed is used. These lands are almost constantly 
 kepL in tillage, and yet are cleaner and freer from weeds, 
 than those in inland situations, where corn crops arc not 
 so often taken. 
 
 Clay soils arc not so much benefited by sea-weed, as 
 those of a light nature ; but whether this is owing to the 
 properties of clay being unfriendly to the admission of 
 the salts contained in sea-weed, or to soils of that des- 
 cription being generally in a state, when this substance 
 is thrown ashore, which physically unfits them for par- 
 ticipating ol benefit from the application, is not com- 
 pletely ascertained. The fact, however, is certain, that 
 clay soils are little benefited by sea-weed, though per- 
 haps the poaching of carts and horses upon them, in wet 
 stormy weather, may, in some measure, be assigned as 
 the true cause why the same benefit is not gained. 
 When dung is carted out on clay soils, in a wet state, 
 we know, that the advantage from it is not so great, as 
 when the surface is in condition to bear the pressure of 
 the carriages ; though, from that result, no person would 
 be justified, in maintaining, that these soils were con- 
 stitutionally disqualified to receive benefit from dung. 
 When a coast-side farm contains mixed soils, the best 
 management is exercised, by applying sea-weed to dry, 
 and dung to clay-land. In this way, the full advantage 
 of manure may be obtained, and a farm so circum- 
 stanced is of infinitely greater value, with respect to man- 
 uring and labouring, than one w hich contains no such 
 variety. 
 
 It has lately been suggested by Sir John Sinclair, Bart, 
 and other eminent agriculturists, that sea-weed pos- 
 sesses a virtue not formerly assigned to it ; namely, that 
 it is eminently beneficial in preserving wheat from be- 
 ing mildewed, which, were the fact sufficiently ascer- 
 tained, would be an addition to our stock of agricultural 
 knowledge, of great importance. Where sea-weed is 
 applied, there can be no doubt that the soil is thereby 
 greatly strengthened, becoming firmer, and, of course, 
 better adapted for preserving the roots of the plant from 
 injury, and for furnishing a regular supply of food. This 
 length we can safely go, as we believe that such an opinion 
 accords entirely with the general sentiments of agricul- 
 turists. Thinking, however, that mildew proceeds en- 
 tirely from a diseased atmosphere, we are at a loss to 
 find out how sea-weed, at the root of the plant, can act 
 \ as a preventive against that disease, in any other way, 
 I that what is already mentioned ; that is, by consolidating 
 I the surface, and giving greater strength to the plants, in 
 consequence of which, they are enabled to resist the un- 
 I healthiness of the atmosphere. Comparing the opera- 
 I tion of sea-weed, with that of dung, it will be found that 
 ! the eflect of the latter is to loosen the soil, and to 
 j make it more friable; consequently, as always happens, 
 I fields, which have received the greatest quantity of dung, 
 I are always most susceptible of mildew. ' 
 
 Sect. VI. 
 
 0?i Paring and Burning ihi: Surface, and using the Ashes 
 as a Manure. 
 
 The practice of burning the surface, and applying tho 
 ashes as manure, to the soil ihat remains, has Oeen long 
 prevalent in Britain ; and tliough it has been condemned, 
 nay reprobated by many chemical writers, and prohib- 
 ited in numerous instances by proprietors, yet, by pro- 
 fessional people, who judged of the utility of the prac- 
 tice, from the nature and consequences of its elfects, it 
 has, almost in every case, been supported, and considered 
 as the most advantageous way of bringing in and im- 
 proving all soils, where the surface carried a course 
 sward, and was composed of peat-earth, orother inactive 
 substances. The burning of this surface has been view- 
 ed as the best way of bringing such soils into action ; the 
 ashes, furnished by the burning, serving as a stimulant 
 to raise up their dormant powers, thereby rendering 
 them fertile and productive in a superior degree, thari 
 could otherwise be accomplished. 
 
 These have been the sentiments of husbandmen for 
 many generations, and are not to be overturned by the 
 force of abstract reasoning, however plausibly and for- 
 cibly urged. Were a field to be burned, and the ashes 
 thus produced to be removed to another, the objections 
 of chemists would be well founded ; but so long as these 
 ashes are spread upon the surface, and an effect pro- 
 duced upon the remahider of the soil and subsoil, equal, 
 if not superior, to that which is occasioned by calcareous 
 manure, no evil can be dreaded. The soil, in place of 
 being thinned by the burning, is, in fact, thickened ; be- 
 cause a portion of the subsoil is impregnated and brought 
 uito action, whereby tlie staple is deepened, and its pro- 
 ductive powers increased. It must be remarked, how- 
 ever, that, as the effects of burnt ashes, though instan- 
 taneous, arc not of long duration, a dressing of dung, in 
 the third year, becomes highly necessary, after which, 
 land so treated should be restored to grass. The great 
 object to be attended to, when stimulants arc emploved, 
 is to use gentle and lenient cropping afterwards ; other- 
 wise, what with justice might have been considered as a 
 meritorious irnprovement, may turn out to deserve a con- 
 trary character. 
 
 What we have said relates to what is generally called 
 paring and burning ; that is, paring the surface to the 
 deepness of one, two, or three inches, gathering it into 
 heaps, and burning it. We shall now speak of ashes 
 burnt and used in a different manner ; that is, when peat- 
 earth is digged and burnt in quantities, and afterwards 
 applied to a field of a ditferent sort of soil or quality. 
 The eflc-cts of ashes, used in this way, are precisely the. 
 same with those of lime, though their operation is more 
 violent, and therefore sooner over. The first crop is 
 commonly very luxuriant ; but, unless dung is after- 
 wards administered, the soil will be ratlier exhausted 
 than enriched by the application of die ashes. 
 
 In the agricultural memorandums of Robert Ainsiie, 
 land-steward to the celebrated John earl of Stair, on his 
 estate ofCulhorn, in Wigtonshire, some account of the 
 operation of ash.cs, and the method of making them 
 from peat-earth, is described. 
 
 According to I\Ir Ainslie, it appears, that Lord Stair, 
 in 1728, sent several barrels of earthy ashes from Lon- 
 don, of a kind much used by fanners in the south of 
 England as a top dressing for their grass and tillage 
 lands, These ashes, agreeably to his lordships direc-
 
 272 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 tions, were sown upon two dilVci-ent pieces of ground; 
 viz. on a piece intended for hay, and on a piece sown 
 with barley, while a propoition of them was reserved 
 till their ijUidilies were analysed and ascertained. Both 
 the grass and liarlcy were greatly improved by the dres- 
 sing of ashes bestowed ; and upon analysing the part 
 reserved, it was foinitl, that with a great proportion of 
 earthy substance, the ashes contained many particles ol 
 lime or shelly matter. Hence, Mr Ainslie concluded, 
 tliat these ashes were either made by carefully burnuig 
 moss that was strongly incorporated with snell marl, 
 or that lime had been mixed with them ; by means of 
 which, and the salts, natural to all ashes, it was sup- 
 posed that their great fertilizing quality was produced. 
 
 !Mr Ainslie received certain directions for burning 
 moss, along with the ashes, which are of considerable 
 importance. He was directed to begin the fire with dry 
 faggots, furze, or straw, then to put on dried moss finely 
 niiiiccd and well beaten with a clapper; and when that 
 was nearly burnt down, to put on moss less dry, but well 
 minced and clapped, making holes with a prong to carry 
 on the fire, and so adding more moss, till a hill of ashes, 
 something of the size of a wagon load, was accumulated, 
 which, when cold, he was directed to carry to the bins, 
 or store heaps, before the ashes got wet. Agreeably to 
 these directions, a good deal of moss was burnt by Mr 
 Ainslie at a very small expense, the people employed 
 soon becoming very expert in the several operations of 
 cutting and burning the moss, and of managing, in the 
 most advantageous manner, the kilns in which it was 
 prepared. 
 
 The generality of agricultural writers, in treating of 
 manures, have given innumerable directions for the man- 
 agement of the several varieties, as if the farmer had a 
 store -house, or repository, into which each could be de- 
 posited. We have spoken of them in such a way as may 
 serve every useful purpo-^' ; and, without troubling the 
 reader with instructions which cannot be carried into 
 execution, we have restricted our details to matters that 
 are practicable by eveiy farmer. We have directed his 
 attention to the management and application of dung, 
 l)ecause this article may be considered as the magic 
 wand which influences every rural operation. Instead 
 of troubling him with speculative opinions on the prin- 
 ciples of vegetation, and the pasture of plants, subjects 
 of an abstruse nature, and on which the best informed 
 can only form crude and uncertain notions, we have poin- 
 ted out the manner in which the greatest quantity of 
 dung may be collected, and have described the most 
 suitable and profitable method of applying it to the land. 
 We have treated of lime, and other stimulants, in the 
 same manner; every kind of theory being avoided, un- 
 less sanctioned by experience, — the only schoolmaster 
 deserving of attention, when the art or science of rural 
 economy is to be illustrated. 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 On the Management of Arable Land, and the Hus- 
 bandry best adajited to different Soils. 
 
 If the landed property possessed by any nation is to 
 he considered as the capital stock of that nation, then it 
 becomes an important question, how and in what manner 
 shall the capital stock be managed to the best advar.tage, 
 so that the nation may derive fiom it the greatest possi- 
 ble public benefit ? This is a branch of political econo- 
 
 my seldom much attended to, though it obviously de- 
 serves the most muiutc and serious investigation. In 
 fact, it is only of late years that the ait of agriculture 
 has been reckoned worthy of public notice. Individuals 
 might, and many of them actually did, consider it as a 
 parent art; but the great body of the community were 
 disposed to estimate manufactures and commerce as of 
 greater importance: Hence the liritish nation were 
 generally more desirous oi gaining new territories, than 
 impiovmg what they already possessed : hence millions 
 were expended in defending and improving distant colo- 
 nies, when a small part of that money would have ren- 
 dered every quarter of our own island like a garden. 
 There are numerous and extensive tracts in every part 
 of the country, which greatly need improvement; and, 
 notwithstanding the high pivch to winch improvement 
 has been carried in some districts, perhaps ui eveiy one 
 of them, the national capital might be considerably in- 
 creased, were suitable means devised, and proper en- 
 couragement given. To investigate these matters, how- 
 ever, would lead us into a wider field than is consistent 
 with the object of this article. On that account we re- 
 frain from such inquiries, and proceed to illustrate the 
 management of arable land, and the husbandry which, 
 is best adapted, to different soils. 
 
 Sect. I. 
 
 On notation of Crops. 
 
 Referring to Chap. I. wherein the great and funda- 
 mental principles ot agriculture are described, we en- 
 ter upon the consideration of a minor principle, viz. the 
 most suitable Rotation of Crops. Tiiough we are per- 
 fectly satisfied, that in the variable state of British soil 
 and climate, no fixed rotation can be prescribed, and 
 even that the real value of every rotation depends in a 
 great measure upon the fidelity shown in executing the 
 s' ,-eral processes of labour which belong to it; yet, 
 absti^tictly speaking, some rotations must be viewed as 
 of more value than others, because the crops therein 
 includeu may be most suitable for the particular soil or 
 soils on which they are to be cultivated, or better adapt- 
 ed to the market demand of the country, which ultimate- 
 ly must regulate the kind of produce most deserving 
 of cultivation. Holding these things in view, alternate 
 husbandry, or the system of having leguminous and cul- 
 miferous crops to follow each other, must be reckoned 
 most judicious, and deserving of reconnnendation. This 
 svstem, with some modifications, is practicable on every 
 soil. According to its rules, the land would rarely get 
 into a foul and exhausted state ; at least, if foul and ex- 
 hausted under alternate husbandry, matters would be 
 much worse, were any other system followed. The rota- 
 tion may be long or short, as is consistent with the rich- 
 ness of the soil on which it is executed, and other local 
 circumstances. The crops cultivated may be any of the 
 varieties which compose the two tribes, according to the 
 nature of soil and climate of the district where the rota- 
 tion is exercised ; and where circumstances render 
 ploughing not so advantageous as pasturing, the land 
 may remain in grass till these circiunstances are obvia- 
 ted ; care being always taken, when it is broken up, to 
 follow alternate husbandry during the time it is under 
 tillage. 
 
 In this way, we think it perfectly practicable to follow 
 the alternate system in every situation ; nor do we con- 
 sider the land being in grass for two, three, or four years,
 
 AGRICULTURE, 
 
 273 
 
 as a departure from that system, if called for by a scar- 
 city of miinure, poverty of soil, want of markets for 
 corn, or other accidental circumstances. The basis of 
 every rotation we hold to be either a bare summer fal- 
 low, or a fallow on which drilled turnips are cultivated, 
 and its conclusion to be with the crop taken in the year 
 preceding a return of fallow or drilled turnips, vrhen, of 
 course, a new rotation commences. 
 
 Rotation, No. I. 
 
 According to this rotation, wheat and drilled beans 
 are the crops to be cultivated, though clover and rye- 
 grass may be taken for one year, in place of beans, should 
 such a variety be viewed as more eligible. The rotation 
 begins with summer fallow, because it is only on strong 
 deep lands that it can be profitably practised ; and it 
 may go on for any length of time, or so long as the land 
 can be kept clean, though it ought to stop the moment 
 that the land gets into a contrary condition. A considera- 
 ble quantity of manure is required to go on successfully ; 
 perhaps dung should be given to each bean crop ; and 
 if this crop is drilled, and attentively horse-hoed, the 
 rotation may turn out to be one of the most profitable 
 that can be exercised. 
 
 Rotation., No. II. 
 
 Upon loams and clays, where it may not be advisable 
 to carry the first rotation into execution, a different one 
 can be practised ; according to which labour will be 
 more divided, and the usual grains more generally culti- 
 vated ; as, for instance, 
 
 1. Fallow, with dung. 
 
 2. Wheat. 
 
 3. Beans, drilled and horse-hoed. 
 
 4. Barley. 
 
 5. Clover and Rye-grass. 
 
 6. Oats or Wheat. 
 
 7. Beans, drilled and horse-hoed. 
 
 8. Wheat. 
 
 This rotation is excellently calculated to ensure an 
 abundant return through the whole of it, provided 
 dung is administered upon the clover stubble. With- 
 out this supply, the rotation would be crippled, and 
 inferior crops of course produced in the concluding 
 yeai's. 
 
 Rotation, No. I\'. 
 
 On thin clays, gentle husbandry is indispensably nc 
 cessary, otherwise the soil may be exhausted, and the- 
 produce unequal to the expense of cultivation. Soils of 
 this description will not improve much while under 
 grass ; but, unless an additional slock of manure can be 
 procured, there is a necessity of refreshing them in that 
 way, even though the produce should, in the n>eaiitime, 
 be comparatively of small value. The following rotation 
 is not an improper one. 
 
 1. Fallow, with dung. 
 
 2. Wheat. 
 
 3. Grass, pastured, but not too early eaten. 
 
 4. Grass. 
 
 5. Grass. 
 
 6. Oats. 
 
 This rotation may be shortened or lengthened, ac- 
 cording to circmnstances, but should never extend fur- 
 ther in point of ploughing, than when dung can be given 
 to the fallow break. This is the key-stone of the whole ; 
 and if it is neglected, the rotation is rendered use- 
 less. 
 
 Rotation, No. \'. 
 
 Peat -earth soils are not friendly to wheat, unless aided 
 by a quantity of calcareous matter. Taking them in a 
 general point of view, it is not advisable to cultivate 
 wheat ; but a crop of oats may almost be depended upon, 
 provided the previous management has been judiciously 
 executed. If the subsoil of peat-earth lands be reten- 
 tive of moisture, the process ought to commence with a 
 bare summer fallow ; but if such are incumbent on free 
 and open bottoms, a crop of turnips may be substituted 
 for fallow, according to which method, the surface will 
 get a body which naturally it did not possess. Grass, on 
 ^uch soils, must always occupy a great space of every 
 rotation, because physical circumstances render regular 
 cropping utterly impracticable. 
 
 1. Fallow, or Turnips, with dvmg. 
 
 2. Oats, of an early varietv. 
 
 3. Clover, and a considerable quantity of peren- 
 nial Rye-grass. 
 
 4. Pasture for several years, till circumstances 
 permit the land to be broken up, when oats 
 are to be repeated. 
 
 Rotation, No. III. 
 
 This rotation is calculated for clays and loatns of an 
 inferior description to those already treated of. 
 
 1. Fallow, with dung. 
 
 2. Wheat. 
 
 3. Clover and Rye-grass. 
 
 4. Oats. 
 
 5. Beans, drilled and horse-hoed. 
 
 6. Wheat. 
 
 According to this rotation, the rules of good husband- 
 ry are studiously practised, while the sequence is obvi- 
 ously calculated to keep the land in good order, and in 
 such a condition as to ensure crops of the greatest va- 
 lue. If manure is bestowed, either upon the clover 
 stubble, or before the beans are sown, the rotation is 
 one of the best that can be devised for the soils men- 
 tioned. 
 
 Vol. I, Part I. 
 
 Rotation, No. VI. 
 
 Light soils are easily managed, though to procure a 
 full return of the profit which they are capable of yield- 
 ing, requires generally as much attention as is neces- 
 sary in the management of those of a stronger descrip- 
 tion. Upon light soils, a bare summer fallow is seldom 
 called for, as a cleanliness may be preserved by grow- 
 ing turnips, and other leguminous articles. Grass also 
 is of eminent advantage upon such soils, often yielding 
 a greater profit than what is afforded by culmiferous 
 crops. 
 
 1. Turnips. 
 
 2. Spring Wheat, or Barley. 
 
 3. Clover and Rye-grass. 
 
 4. Oats, or Wheat. 
 
 This is a fashionable rotation; but it may be doubted 
 ■whether a continuance of it for any considerable period 
 M m
 
 27'1. 
 
 AGJilCULTUllE. 
 
 is advisable, because bolii turnips and clover are found 
 to fall off, when repeated so often as once in four years. 
 Perhaps the rotation would be greatly improved, were 
 it extended to eight years, whilst the ground, by such 
 an extension, would be kept fresh, and constantly in 
 good condition. As lor instance, were seeds for pas- 
 ture sown in the second year, the ground kept three 
 years under grass, broke up for oats in the sixth year, 
 drilled with beans and pease in the seventh, and sown 
 with wheat in the eighth, the rotation would be com- 
 plete ; because it included every branch of husbandry, 
 and admitted a variety in management generally agree- 
 able to the soil, and always favourable to the interest of 
 cultivators. The rotation may also consist of six crops, 
 were th.e l:uid kept only one year in grass, tliough few 
 situations admit of so much cropping, unless additional 
 manure is within reach. 
 
 Rotation, No. VII. 
 
 Sandy soils, when properly manured, are well adapted 
 to turnips, though it i-arely happens that wheat can be 
 cultivated on tliem with advantage, unless they are 
 dressed with alluvial compost, marl, clay, or some such 
 substances as will give a body or strength to them which 
 they do not naturally possess. Barley, oats, and rye, the 
 latter especially, are, however, sure crops on sands; and 
 hi favourable seasons, will return greater profit than can 
 be obtained from wheat. 
 
 1. Turnips, consumed on the ground. 
 
 2. Bailey. 
 
 3. Grass. 
 
 4. Rye or Oats. 
 
 By keeping the land three years in grass, the rota- 
 tion would be extended to six years, a measure highly 
 advisable. 
 
 J'rom what is stated in this Section, every person 
 capable of judging will at once perceive the facility 
 of arranging husbandry upon correct principles, and 
 of cropping the ground in such a way as to make it 
 produce abundant returns to the occupier, whilst at 
 the same time it is preserved in good condition, and 
 never impoverished or exhausted. All these things 
 are perfectly practicable under the alternate system, 
 though it is doubtful whether they can be gained un- 
 der any other. Cross cropping, in some cases, may 
 perhaps be justifiable in practice; as for instance, we 
 have seen wheat taken after oats, with great success, 
 when these oats had followed a clover crop on rich soil; 
 but after all, as a general measure, that mode of crop- 
 ping cannot be recommended. We have heard of ano- 
 ther rotation, which comes almost under the like pre- 
 dicament, thotigh, as the test of experience has not yet 
 been applied, a decisive opinion cannot b€ pronounced 
 upon its merits. This rotation begins with a bare 
 fallow, and is carried on with wheat, grass for one or 
 more years, oats, and wheat, where it ends. Its sup- 
 porters maintain, that beans are an uncertain crop, and 
 cultivated at great expense ; and that in no other way 
 will corn in equal quantity, and of equal value, be cul- 
 tivated at so little expense, as according to the plan 
 mentioned. That the expense of cidtivation is much 
 lessened, we acknowledge, because no more than se- 
 ven ploughings are given through the whole rotation ; 
 but whether the crops will be of equal value, and whe- 
 ther the ground will be preserved in eqtially good con- 
 
 dition, are points which remain to be ascertained by ex- 
 perience. 
 
 It may be added, before we finish this Section, that 
 winter-sown crops, or crops sown on the winter furrow, 
 arc most eligible on all clay soils. Spiing ploughing on 
 such soils is a hazardous business, and not to be pi-ac- 
 tised where it can possibly be avoided. Except in the 
 case of drilled beans, there is not the slightest necessity 
 forplougiiing clays in the spring months ; biu as land in- 
 tended to curry beans ought to be early ploughed, so 
 that the benefit of host may be obtained ; and as the 
 seed furrow is an ebb one, rarely exceeding four inches 
 in deepness, the hazard of spring ploughing for this ar- 
 ticle is not of much consequence. Ploughing, with a 
 view to clean soils of the description under considera- 
 tion, has little effect, unless given in the summer months. 
 This renders summer fallow indispensably necessary ; 
 and without this radical process, none of the heavy and 
 wet soils can be suitably managed, or preserved in a good 
 condition. 
 
 To adopt a judicious rotation of cropping for every 
 soil, requires a degree of judgment in the farmer, which 
 can only he, gathered from observation and experience. 
 In fact, it is hardly to be learned in any other school, 
 thougli, when attained by one, ne thinks it attainable by 
 all, with little difficulty. The old rotations were calcu- 
 lated to wear out the soil, and to render it unproductive. 
 To take wheat, barley, and oats in succession, a practice 
 very common thirty years ago, was sufficient to im- 
 poverisli the best of land, wiiile it put little into the 
 pockets of the farmer; but the modern rotations, such 
 as those which we have described, are founded on prin- 
 ciples which ensure a full return from the soil, with- 
 out lessening its value, or impoverishing its condi- 
 tion. Much depends, however, upon the manner in 
 which the different processes are executed ; for the 
 best arranged rotation may be of no avail, if the pro- 
 cesses belonging to it are imperfectly and unreasonably 
 executed. 
 
 Sect. II. 
 
 On the Cultivation of Culmiferous Crofts. 
 
 The varieties of corn ranked as culmiferous, or rob- 
 bing ones, are Wheat, Barley, Oats, and Rye. These 
 varieties we are inclined to consider as bearing equally 
 hard upon the soil; and we think it does not matter 
 much which of them are taken, because all are robbers 
 of the ground, and tend to exhaust it of its productive 
 powers. No doubt some soils are more favourable for 
 one sort of corn than for another ; as, for instance, clays 
 and loams are better adapted for wheat than sands and 
 gravels ; while, xnce versa, the latter are better calcula- 
 ted for barley than the heavy soils. It is by fixing upon 
 the most proper of each for the soil cultivated, that the 
 judgment of the farmer is correctly ascertained. In 
 other respects, such as the exhaustion of the ground, we 
 view it as a matter of no importance which of them is 
 preferred. 
 
 The most valuable grain is wheat, and it has been so 
 since the earliest period to which history reaches. This 
 grain now constitutes the chief food of the British na- 
 tion; and its abundance or scarcity regulates, in a great 
 measure, the welfare and prosperity of the inhabitants. 
 Notwithstanding its manifest utility as a necessary of 
 life, and its importance to the farmer, as being the arti-
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 275 
 
 cic from whicli vent in many districts is altogether paid, 
 landed proprietors liave, in numerous instances, attempt- 
 ed to interdict its culture, or, at least, they have stu- 
 diously endeavoured to lessen the quantity cultivated, 
 by restrictions or penalties upon the grower, if a cer- 
 tain stipulated quantity was exceeded in any one year; 
 and more particularly, if that quantity was exceeded in 
 the latter years of a lease. Whether proprietors acting 
 in this way were moved by wise and useful reasons, 
 needs no inquiry ; because it is evident, tl^^t the great- 
 er the value of produce raised upon a farm, so much 
 more vent is the farmer enabled to pay the proprietor; 
 and though this increased rent may be delayed for a few 
 years, namely, to the end of the current lease, the pro- 
 prietor is sure to obtain it at that period. Proprietors, 
 however, have hitherto thought difl'erently, and their 
 errors have been sanctioned by the courts of law, who • 
 have not been slow in punishing farmers, considered by 
 them as deviators from the rules of good husbandry. 
 Notwithstanding the impediments in the way, both legal 
 and conventional, the culture of wheat has of late pro- 
 digiously increased, and now constitutes a prominent 
 branch of British husbandry. Landed proprietors, it is 
 believed, are now almost satisfied, that the growth of 
 this grain does not deteriorate or waste their lands, 
 though formerly not a few of them thought that the 
 vegetative powers of their estates might be sold in the 
 jjublic market in the shape of wheat, — an idea hand- 
 ed down from father to son for successive genera- 
 lions, though now in some measure renounced and aban- 
 doned. 
 
 As wheat is the most valuable grain cultivated in 
 the British isles, we shall treat of the several processes 
 connected with its culture in a more particular manner 
 than may afterwards be recjuired, when other grains 
 occupy our attention. We shall first speak of the soils 
 best adapted to the growth of wheat; 2. Of the cul- 
 ture required for that grain; 3. Of the varieties of 
 seed; 4. of the way in which it is sown; 5. Of pick- 
 ling the seed, so that it may be preserved from be- 
 ing smutted or blacked ; 6. Of the diseases to which 
 wheat is liable in different stages ; 7. Of harvest ma- 
 nagement; 8. Of thrashing the gram, and preparing it 
 for market. 
 
 1. On the Soils best adajited for the Gro'^vthof Wheat. 
 — Rich clays and heavy loams are naturally well calcu- 
 lated for producing wheat; but any kind of clay and 
 loamy soil, situated in a proper climate, may be artifi- 
 cially adapted to the growth of that grain, by enriching 
 it with a sufficient quantity of manure. On soils of the 
 first description, wheat may be cultivated almost every 
 second year, provided due care is taken to keep the land 
 clean, and in good condition. A summer fallow once 
 in four, six, or eight years, according to seasons and 
 cii'cumstances, is, however, necessary ; and manure 
 should cither be applied on that fallow for the first crop 
 of wheat, or, what some people think preferable, should 
 be laid on the wheat stubble for a crop of drilled beans, 
 which ensures the succeeding crop of wheat. If the first 
 crop of beans has been completely cleaned, there is no 
 difficulty of repeating, and even of extending the course ; 
 and the crops will be little inferior to those gained at 
 the beginning of the rotation, provided manure has been 
 bestowed to each crop of beans. la ihis way, when the 
 ground is fallowed every fourth year, iwo crops of wheat 
 and one of beans are gained from manuring once ; when 
 fallowed every sixth year, three crops of wheat and two 
 
 of beans are gained [vom manuring twice ; and, when fal- 
 lowed every eighth year, four crops of wheat, and three 
 of beans, from manuring thrice. In the first-mentioned 
 shift, less manure is bestowed than in any of the othi r 
 two; and if tlie soil is of good quality it will support it- 
 self; whereas, in the shifts of six and eight, unless foreign 
 manure is procuixd, it rarely happens that they can go 
 on successfully for any Icngtii of time, witliout abstract- 
 ing dung from other parts of the farm on which they arc 
 practised. 
 
 With regard to thin clays, the shifts mentioned above 
 are inapplicable. A six-course sliift of a different kind 
 has, however, been successfully followed by many peo- 
 ple ; but it requires every branch of the work to be well 
 executed. 1. A summer fallow, dunged at the rate of 
 12 or 14 double loads per acre ; 2. Wheat; 3. Grass; 
 4. Oats; 5. Pease and Beans drilled; 6. Wheat. If 
 manure can be given in the middle of the shift, every 
 one of the crops may be expected good ; but if that is 
 withheld, there will necessarily be a proportionable fall- 
 ing off" in the two last crops. Husbandmen must, how- 
 ever, regulate their practice according to their means; 
 though it deserves to be remarked, that, if greater atten- 
 tion were paid to the collecting of materials, which ulti- 
 mately are converted into manure, many deficiencies in 
 the article would be fully supplied. 
 
 Light soils, though they m ill, with the exception of 
 soft sands, produce wheat of excellent quality, are not 
 constitutionally disposed to the growth of that grain ; 
 nor will they, under any management, bear such a fre- 
 quent repetition of it as those already mentioned. Sum- 
 mer fallow on them may safely be dispensed with; be- 
 cause a crop of turnips, which admits every branch of 
 the cleaning process to be more perfectly executed than 
 even a naked or bare fallow does, may be profitably 
 substituted. Wheat here comes in with propriety af- 
 ter turnips, though, in general cases, it must be sown in 
 the spring months, unless the turnips arc stored ; in which 
 case, it may be sown in November; or it may be sown 
 after clover, for the fourth crop of the rotation; or in the 
 sixth year, as a way-going crop, after drilled pease and 
 beans, if the rotation is extended to that length. But, 
 take it any way, it is scarcely possible to raise wheat so 
 extensively upon light soils, even where they are of the 
 richest quality, as is practicable upon clays ; nor will 
 a crop of equal bulk upon the one, return so much pro- 
 duce in grain as may be got from the other. To enlarge 
 upon this point would only serve to prove what few hus- 
 bandmen will dispute, though, it may be added, that, on 
 real sands, wheat ought not to be ventured, unless they 
 are either completely clayed or marled, as it is only 
 with the help of these auxiliaries that such a soil can 
 gain stamina capable of producing wheat with any degree 
 of success. 
 
 2. On the Culture required for Wheat. — On soils really 
 calculated for wheat, though in different degrees, sum- 
 mer-fallow is the first and leading step to gain a good 
 crop or crops of that grain. The first furrow should be 
 given before winter, or so early as other operations 
 upon the farm will admit; and every attention should 
 be used to go as deep as possible ; for it rarely happens 
 that any of the succeeding furrows exceed the first one 
 in that respect. The number of after-ploughings must 
 be regulated by the condition of the ground and the 
 state of the weather; but, in general, it may be observed, 
 that ploughing in length and across, alternately, is the 
 way by which the ground will be most completely cut, 
 Mm 2
 
 276 
 
 AGRICILTURE. 
 
 and the intention oi fallowing accomplislied. It has 
 been ai-gucd, that harrowing clay soils, when summer 
 fallowcil) is prejudicial to the wheat crop; but, witiiout 
 discussing this point, (such a discussion being unneces- 
 sary,) it may merely be stated, that, in a dry season, it is 
 almost impracticable to reduce real clays, or to work 
 them too small; and that, even in a wet one, supposing 
 they are made surface smooth, they will, when ploughed 
 up again, consolidate into clods or big lumps, at'ler Ibrty- 
 eight hours drought, and become nearly as obdurate as 
 ever. It is only on thin soils, which have a mixture of 
 peat-earth, and are incumbent on a bottom impervious 
 to water, that damage is at any time sustained from over 
 harrowing. Such are generally of a weak texture, and 
 may be broken down with facility by the roller and har- 
 row. If caught by much rain before the pores are in 
 some measure closed, the moisture is greedily absorbed ; 
 and being prevented from going downwards, by the 
 hardness of the subsoil, the whole surface becomes a 
 kind of mortar or paste, unless previously well ridged 
 up, which, to a certain extent, prevents the consequences 
 from being dangerous. These evils, however, must 
 be submitted to by the possessors of such soils, if they 
 want to have them sufficiently fallowed and prepared ui 
 a proper manner; for, without reducuig them, couch- 
 grass, and especially nwjr fog; with which they are 
 commonly stored, caniiot be eradicated. If they are 
 reduced in the early part of the season, the danger is 
 small ; but to break them down in the latter part ought 
 always to be avoided, unless called for by imperious 
 necessity. 
 
 Some people think it improper to dung rich clays or 
 loams when fallowed, and choose rather to reserve that 
 Festorative till the succeeditig season, when they are pre- 
 pared for a crop of drilled beans. Delaying the manu- 
 ring process for a year is attended w ith many advan- 
 tages ; because good land, fully wrought, contains such 
 a principle of action within itself, as often causes the 
 first wheat crop to be lodged before it is filled; under 
 which circumstance, the produce is diminished both in 
 quantity and quality. This delay in manuring is, how- 
 ever, attended with disadvantages; because, when dung 
 is kept back till the end of autumn or beginning of win- 
 ter, to be laid on the stubbles, the weather is often so 
 wet that it cannot be carted out without subjecting the 
 land to injury from poaching, whilst the labour in laying 
 it on is also increased. On thin clays, or even upon 
 soils of the other description not in high condition, there 
 can be no doubt but that the end of summer, and upon 
 summer fallow, is the most proper time for manuring 
 them, though it will be found that an improvident ex- 
 penditure of dung, on such occasions, ought always to 
 be steadily avoided. 
 
 When wheat is sown after beans, it rarely happens, 
 in this northcni climate, that more than one ploughing 
 can successfully be bestowed. Before this is given, it 
 is advantageous to cross-harrow the land, which levels 
 the drills, and permits the ploughing process to be exe- 
 cuted with precision. Almost in every case, the ridges 
 should be gathered up, so that the furrows may be well 
 cleared out, and the plants preserved from injury dur- 
 ing the inclement winter season. Clover land should be 
 neatly ploughed and well laid over, so that the roots 
 of the grasses may be buried and destroyed ; for it fre- 
 quently happens, that crops of wheat after clover and 
 rye-grass, are greatly injured by inattention to the 
 ploughing process. In short, sowing wheat after clover. 
 
 ma^ be considered as the most hazardous Way in which 
 that grain can be cultivated. 
 
 3. On the Varieties of Heed. — Wheat may be classed 
 under two principal divisions, though each of these ad- 
 mits of sevei-al subdivisions. The hrst is composed of 
 all the varieties ot red wlicat ; but as such are now rarely 
 sown in North Britain, being at least 15/. per cent, in- 
 ferior in value to those which are generally cultivated, 
 it is unnecessary lo say any thing about them. The se- 
 cond divisiort compreliends the whole varieties of white 
 wheat, which again may be arranged under two distinct 
 heads, namely, .luck chuffed and thin chaffed. The thick 
 chaflfed varieties were lormcrly in greatest repute, gene- 
 rally yielding the whitest and finest flour, and, in dry 
 seasons, not inferior m produce to the other; but since 
 1799, when the disease called mildew, to which they are 
 constitutionally predisposed, raged so extensively, they 
 have gradually been going out of fashion, at least in 
 North Britain; and for two years past, a field of thick 
 chaffed wheat has scarcely been seen m any of the wheat 
 districts. Under these circumstances, it seems uiuie- 
 cessary to notice them more particularly. 
 
 The thin chaffed wheats are a hardy class, and seldom 
 mildewed, unless the weather be particularly inimical 
 during the stages of blossoming, filling, and ripening, 
 though some of them are rather better qualified to resist 
 that destructive disorder than others. In 1799, few thin 
 chaffed wheats w'ere seriously injured; and instances 
 were not wantuig to show, that an acre of them, with 
 respect to value, exceeded an acre of thick chaffed wheat 
 quantity and quality considered, not less than 50/. per 
 cent. Since that time, therefore, their culture has ra- 
 pidly increased ; and to this circumstance may, in a 
 great measure, be attributed the high character which 
 thin chaffed wheats now bear. A nomenclature of thin 
 chaffed wheats might be useful ; but, at present, any 
 thing of that nature is an impossible task; because, even 
 with agriculturists, their names are altogether arbitrary. 
 It is sufficient to say, that the best variety now known, 
 is one selected and reared by Mr William Hunter, far- 
 mer at Knows, in East Lothian, which, for soundness of 
 constitution, and prolificness of produce, exceeds any 
 other with which we are acquainted. Perhaps the pret- 
 tiest sample is not afforded by this variety ; but millers 
 and bakers are now satisfied, that the whitest and fairest 
 wheats externally, are not those which are most produc- 
 tive of the perfect article. It has been often noticed, that 
 this wheat preserves a green healthy aspect during the 
 coldest weather, when other varieties assume a sickly 
 and jaundiced hue. The resistance which it shows to 
 the effects of inclement weather, perhaps proceeds from 
 the strength of its roots, though the effect may be easier 
 described tlian the cause accounted for. 
 
 4. On Seed Work. — Sowing in the broad-cast way may 
 be said to be the mode universallv practised in North 
 Britain ; for the trifling deviations from it can hardly be 
 admitted as an exception. Upon well prepared lands, 
 if the seed be distributed equally, it can scarcely be 
 sown too thin; perhaps two bushels per acre are suffi- 
 cient ; for the heaviest crops at autumn are rarely those 
 which show the most vigorous appearance through the 
 winter months. Bean stubbles require more seed than 
 summer fallows; because the roughness of tlieir sur- 
 face prevents such an equal distribution; and clover leas 
 ought to be still thicker sown than bean stubbles. Thin 
 sowing in spring ought not to be practised, otherivise 
 the crop will be late, and imperfectly ripened. No more
 
 AGEICULTURE. 
 
 •277 
 
 harrowing should be given to fields that have been ial- 
 lowcd, than tvhat is necessary to cover llic seed, and 
 level the surlace sufficitntly. Ground which is to lie 
 in a broken down state through the winter, suffers se- 
 verely wlicn an excessive harrowing is given, especially 
 if it is incumbent on a close bottom ; though, as to the 
 quantity necessary, none can give an opinion, except 
 those who are personally present. 
 
 5. On Pickling the Heed. — This process is indispen- 
 sably necessary on every soil ; otherwise, smut, to a 
 greater or less extent, will, in nine cases out of ten, as- 
 suredly follow. Though alxTiost all practical farmers 
 are agreed as to the necessity of pickling, yet they are 
 not so unanimous as to the modus ofirrandi of the pro- 
 cess, and the article which is best calculated to answer 
 the intended purpose. Stale urine may be considered 
 as the safest and surest pickle ; and where it can be 
 obtained in a sufficient quantity is commonly resorted to. 
 The mode of using it does not, however, scejn to be 
 agreed upon; for, while one party contends that the 
 grain ought to be steeped in the urine, another party 
 considers it as sufficient to sprinkle the urine upon it. 
 Some, again, arc advocates for a pickle made of salt and 
 water, sufficiently strong to buoy up an egg, in which 
 the grain is to be thoroughly steeped. But whatever 
 difference of opinion there may be as to the kind of 
 pickle tliat ought to be used, and the mode of using it, 
 all admit the utility of mixing the wetted seed with hot 
 lime fresh slacked; and this, in one point of view, is ab- 
 solutely necessary, so that the seed maybe equally dis- 
 tributed. It may be remarked, that experience justi- 
 fies the utility of all these modes, provided tliey are 
 attentively carried into execution. There is some dan- 
 ger from the first; for, if the seed steeped in urine is 
 not immediately sown, it will infallibly lose its vegeta- 
 tive power. The second, viz. sprinkMng the urine on 
 the seed, seems to be the safest, if performed by an at- 
 tentive hand ; whilst the last may do equally well, if such 
 a quantity of salt be incorporated with the water, as to 
 render it of sufficient strength. It may also be remark- 
 ed, that this last mode is oftener accompanied with 
 smut, owing no doubt to a deficiency of strength in the 
 pickle ; whereas a single head with smut is rarely dis- 
 covered when urine has been used. 
 
 6. Diseases of Wheat. — Wheat is subject to more dis- 
 eases than other grains, and in some seasons, especially 
 in wet ones, heavier losses are sustained from those dis- 
 eases, than are felt in the culture of any other culmifc- 
 rous crop with which we are acquainted. Wheat may 
 suffer from the attack of insects at the root ; from blight, 
 which primarily affects the leaf or straw, and ultimately 
 deprives the grain of sufficient noiuishment ; from mil- 
 dew on the ear, which operates thereon with the force 
 of an apoplectic stroke ; and from gum of diffi;rent 
 shades, which lodges on the chaff or cups in which the 
 grain is deposited. Theorists often neglect these dis- 
 tinctions, or confound the different disorders to which 
 this valuable grain is exposed ; but the practical farmer, 
 who sedulously examines his crop in every stage of its 
 grov/th,will not readily fall into such errors. 
 
 It has, without inquiry, been taken for granted by 
 some people, that blight, mildew, and rust, are the same 
 disorder, though most agriculturists have hitherto reck- 
 oned them separate diseases, brought on at different pe- 
 riods, and occasioned by different causes. It may be 
 laid down as a primary principle, that the proximate 
 cause of every disease which attacks the stalk and ear 
 
 of wheat plants may be found in the state of the wea- 
 ther at the time, conjoined with the circumstances of 
 soil, situation, and the seed that has been used It is 
 difficult to classify these diseases, or describe them in 
 a distinct manner; because the sentiments, or rather the 
 language of agriculturists on this subject is arbitrary 
 and indistinci. Notwithslatiding that they arc, by the 
 great body of farmers, attribulccl to atmospherical influ- 
 ence solely, yet much confusion arises in iheir nomen- 
 clature ; for many people use the terms of blight., mildew^ 
 and rust, as synonymous, though, to us, they appear to 
 be distinct diseases. 
 
 Blight, according to our ideas, originates from moist 
 or foggy weather, and from hoar-frost, the effects of 
 which, when expelled by a hot sun, are first discernible 
 on the straw, and afterwards on the ear, in a greater or 
 lesser degree, according to local circumstances. Let a 
 field be examined in a day or two after such weather, 
 and a careful observer will soon be satisfied, that the 
 fibres and leaves of the plants are contracted and enfee- 
 bled, in consequence of what may be called a stoppage 
 of perspiration. This disorder may take place either 
 earlier or later, but is most fatal when it appears at the 
 time the grain is forming in the ear. It may appear at 
 an earlier stage; and though the productive powers of 
 the plant will thereby be lessened, yet, if circumstances 
 are afterwards favourable, the quality of the grain pro- 
 duced may not be much impaired; or it may appear af- 
 ter the grain is fully formed, and then very little damage 
 will be sustained, except by the straw. 
 
 INIildcw, again, strictly speaking, may be ranked as a 
 disease which affects the car, and is brought on by causes 
 somewhat similar to those which occasion blight, though 
 at a more advanced period ol the season. If this dis- 
 order comes on immediately after the first appearance 
 of the ear, the straw will also be affected; but if the 
 grain is nearly or fully formed, then injury on the straw 
 is not much discernible. We have seen a crop which 
 carried wheat that was mildewed, where the straw was 
 perfectly fresh, though, indeed, this rarely happens. A 
 severe mildew, however, effectually prevents both corn 
 and straw from making any further progress, the whole 
 plant apparently going backward every day, till exist- 
 ence in a manner ceases altogether. Something akin 
 to mildew is the gum or red oakcr, v.hich, in all warm 
 moist seasons, attaches itself to the ear, and often occa- 
 sions considerable damage. All these different disor- 
 ders are generally accompanied by insects ; which ani- 
 malcula, by many people who lake the effect for the 
 cause, are considered, though without the least founda- 
 tion, as the authors of the mischief that follows. Their 
 appearance, however, may justly be attributed to the 
 diseased state of the plant; for wherever putrefaction 
 takes place, either in animal or vegetable substances, 
 the presence of these insects will never be wanting. 
 
 Another disorder which affects wheat, and by several 
 people denominated the real rust, is brought on by ex- 
 cessive heats, which occasion the plants to suffer from a 
 privation of nourishment, and become sickly and feeble. 
 In this atrcphical state, a kind of dust gathers on the 
 stalk and leaves, which increases with the disease, till 
 the plant is in a great m.easure worn out and exi austetl. 
 The only remedy in this case, and it is one that cannot 
 easily be administered by the hand of man, is a plentiful 
 supply of moisture, by which, if it is received, before 
 consumption is too far advanced, the crop is benefited 
 in a degree proportional to the extent of nourishment
 
 .i78 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 rtcfci\ t-il, and the sUif^-c at which the disease has arrived. 
 \Vc have reason to believe, that rust is less tVequcntiy 
 discerned in Scotland than in England, because our sum- 
 mers are neither so warm nor so early as those oi our 
 southern neighl)ours. Neither is blight very prevalent 
 in this nortliern rliinatc. Mildew, in fact, is the dis- 
 order wliich Scottish agriculturists have most to dread, 
 and the only preventive is the use of thin-chaflfed wheats ; 
 ilifese, even in the worst seasons, being only partially 
 injured. 
 
 There is not the slightest reason to believe that para- 
 sitical animalcula are the agents of these diseases, be- 
 cause the whole of them may be imputed to atmospherical 
 influence ; yet it is not easily ascertained, whether ex- 
 cessive drought or excessive rains are most pernicious. 
 J'erhaps both may have an influence, as the plant bcmg 
 stinted and debilitated by drought, in the first instance, 
 is afterwards unable to bear up and flourish when visit- 
 ed with heavy rains, especially if these set in at a period 
 when the crop is in a critical stage. This conclusion 
 will, Avithout difficulty, be admitted by every farmer 
 much concerned hi the growing of wheat, who has at- 
 tentively observed his crops in the various stages of 
 their growth, and compared the extent of produce in 
 different years, with the weather when the filling and 
 ripening processes were going forward. 
 
 Whether blight and mildew be considered separately, 
 or viewed as one and the same disorder, appearing at 
 different periods of the plant's growth, we are convinced 
 that both may with truth be reckoned to proceed from 
 an unhealthy atmosphere, when the crop is in certain 
 stages of its progress to maturity. Every farmer is 
 satisfied, that not only the extent, but the very appear- 
 ance of blight and mildew are entirely governed by the 
 seasons ; and that, with respect to wheat, the kind 
 sown, namely, whether thin or thick chaffed, has a very 
 considerable effect in lessening or increasing the effects 
 of these baneful disorders; and that even soil, culture, 
 and situation, have each their respective influence. It 
 rarely occurs that either blight or mildew are felt in 
 dry, warm seasons, except in close confined fields, where 
 the evening dews stagnate, and remain till they are 
 removed by the meridian sun. Hence the wheat crops, 
 in such situations, seldom or never escape a partial or 
 general injury. On the other hand, in every moist sea- 
 son, whether cold or warm, blight, mildew, and gum, 
 on the ear, are experienced in a greater or lesser de- 
 gree. In such seasons, thin-chaffed wheats are much 
 less injured than those that are thick-chaffed, which 
 circumstance is in direct opposition to the doctrine that 
 blight, mildew, and rust, are brought on by parasitical 
 plants or fungi. Among many others in our power to 
 state, a convincing instance occurred in that fatal year 
 1799. when few fields escaped mildew of the worst kind. 
 On a field carrying both kinds, sowed in one day, and 
 harvested in like manner, we had not only one-tliird 
 more produce from the part which carried thin-chaffed 
 grain, but actually sold it two shillings and sixpence 
 per bushel higher in the public market, than the other 
 would fetch. - Soil, culture, and situation, have, in an 
 inferior degree, an influence in the growth and pro- 
 irress of diseases. Some soils are naturally so moist 
 at bottom, that dampness issues from them at all times. 
 Superior culture, and excessive manuring, are apt to 
 cause a crop to be early lodged, in which case, one 
 disease or other is sure to seize upon it ; and a southern 
 
 aspe';t, and every confined situation, arc much more 
 hazardous than those of a northern or western expo- 
 sure, and wliere the air has free egress. In a word, 
 when hoar-frost or vapour of any kind is dispelled by 
 wind, no danger will follow to the crop ; but, where a 
 hot sun is the agent, we have repeatedly noticed the 
 most serious losses. 
 
 The opinions already expressed, respecting the dis- 
 eases of wheat, receive considerable support from what 
 happened last season, since the first edition of this work 
 went to press. Tnat mildew acted, in numerous in- 
 stances, as the destroying agent of crop 1808, is univer- 
 sally acknowletlged ; but that the defectiveness of that 
 crop was entirely owing to m.ldcw, may safely be ques- 
 tioned. Ill fact, the chief injury proceeded from an 
 unhealthy or pestilential atmosphere, at the time when 
 the grain was in an embryo or imperfect state. Owing 
 to that unhealthiness, something like abortion seemed 
 to take place in the parent plant, after the foetus of the 
 young grain was formed, as was e\ident from more than 
 one half of the cups, or vessels, prepared by nature for 
 its reception, being totally void of substance, notwith- 
 standing that every part of the ear had blossomed 
 equally well, and promised to furnish a numerous and 
 healthy progeny. Even the grain which remained in 
 life, proved afterwards to be of perfect or imperfect 
 quality, according to the nature, situaiion, and condition 
 of the soil upon which it was produced. Upon sound 
 healthy soils, where the plants were provided with 
 strong seminal and coronal roots, the grain was more 
 deficient in quantity than defective in quality. In situ- 
 ations where abortion did not take place in the first in- 
 stance, the young grain, from receiving a regular supply 
 of food, was enabled to resist the storms which beat 
 upon and destroyed its weaker and worse supplied neigh- 
 bours. As happems with persons of sound constitutions, 
 disease was successfully resisted in many instances ; 
 and though the healthiest plants had fewer grains in 
 their ears than usual, being constantly defective in the 
 upper part of the ear, yet these grains whic h remained 
 Li life were ripened and harvested, after passing through 
 the process of maturation, in the most satisfactory man- 
 ner. 
 
 It may now be inquired, how this abortion was brought 
 about, which we have stated as so destructive to the 
 wheat crop of 1808. This may be satisfactorily eluci- 
 dated by a reference to the weather, which prevailed 
 through the months of July and August, as it is in these 
 months that the diseases of wheat always appear, that 
 of smut excepted, which is not generated by an tinheal- 
 thy atmosphere. 
 
 The month of July w'as excessively w-arm, more so 
 than remembered by the oldest man living ; and from 
 the beginning to the 20th of the month, the slightest 
 moisture, even in the mornings and evenings, was not 
 perceivable. Owing to this uncommon heat, wheat plants 
 upon all soils not composed of clay or strong loam, were, 
 in a manner, at a stand with respect to growth, being 
 enfeebled by the fierce rays of the sun, while any wind 
 that blew was so sultry, that the evil was i-ather in- 
 creased by its effects. The ground, in consequence of 
 this intense sun-shine, felt something like burnt-brick 
 when taken from the kiln; of course, when the rains 
 fell, smoke issued from the surface, something like what 
 proceeds from lime-shells when water is thrown upon 
 them ; and this exhalation of vapour continued in ft
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 279 
 
 greater or lesser degree, till the soil was completely 
 saturated with moisture, when the air became cooler 
 and more temperate. 
 
 Under these circumstances, when putrid effluvia is- 
 sued from every pore of the soil, it was not to be ex- 
 pected that the wheat crop could escape from the danger 
 with which it was encompassed. Apprehensions, there- 
 fore, were entertained, that the fields already in a sickly 
 and declining state, would soon fall victims to the pes- 
 tilence which raged in the atmosphere, and the result 
 soon showed tnat these apprehensions were too well 
 founded. With the exception of the lands upon the sea- 
 shore, preserved, we presume, by refreshing breezes 
 from the sea, every field was discovered to be more or 
 less injured. Those soils composed of sand, soft loam, 
 and thin clays, mixed with peat earth, were almost, in 
 every case, attacked with milrlow, while the healthier 
 and sounder soils, where mildew was I'arcly discernible, 
 suHered considerably by having the young grain destroy- 
 ed in the cup, and, of course, yielded crops generally 
 one -third or one -fourth short of the usual produce. Had 
 not thin or smooth chaffed wheats been generally sown, 
 it is almost certain, that a single field would not have 
 escaped mildew. We know of no field sown with the 
 thick chaffed, or woolly eared varieties, that escaped 
 mildew in its most aggravated shape. Even the smooth 
 chaffed varieties depended fn- safety entirely upon the 
 nature of the soil which they occupied, and their condi- 
 tion at the time when raniy weather commenced. 
 
 Here it may be remarked, that though mildew is a 
 disease altogether unknown during dry weather, yet it 
 is only in seasons when the weather has been very warm 
 and dry that its effects are most strikingly displayed. 
 In such seasons, rust often appears upon the straw of 
 wheat, produced upon dry and light soils, and upon all 
 soils which have not good stamina, brought on, it would 
 seem, by the plants being stunted of nourishment. Now, 
 if humid weather sets in when the plants are in this 
 atrophical state, and continues lor any length of time, 
 the disease called mildew, which completely checks 
 the circulation of the plant, immediately follows, as was 
 produced last season in numberless instances. In a 
 word, had we been at the West Indies at the time, and 
 learned that the weather from 24th July to 13th August 
 was almost incessantly wet, we at once would have pre- 
 dicted that the wheat crop would be a failing one ; and 
 on the truth of that prediction would have confidently 
 relied, because similar ones, in the course of a pretty 
 lengthened experience, had invariably been verified by 
 the produce of wheat crops so circumstanced. 
 
 Some people have recommended the sowing of blight- 
 ed and mildewed wheat, because it will vegetate ; though 
 certainly the recommendation, if carried into practice, 
 would be attended with imminent danger to those who 
 attempted it. That light or defective wheat will vege- 
 gate and produce a plant, we are not disposed to con- 
 tradict; but that it will vegetate as briskly, or put out 
 a stem of equal strength, and capable of withstanding 
 the severe winter blasts, as those produced from sound 
 seed, we must be excused for not believing. Let it only 
 be considered, that a plant of young wheat, unless vi^hen 
 very early sown, lives three or four months, in a great 
 measure, upon the nourishment which it derives from 
 the parent seed ; and that such nourishment can, in no 
 view of the subject, be so great, when the parent is lean 
 and emaciated, as when sound, healthy, and vigorous. 
 Let it also be remembered, that a plant produced from 
 
 the best, and welgiuitst seed, nmst, in every case, under 
 a parity of other circumstances, have a stronger consti- 
 tution at the outset, wliich necessarily qualifies it to push 
 on with greater enei-gy wlicn the season of growth ar- 
 rives. Indeed, the economy of nature would be over- 
 turned, had any other result followed. A breeder of 
 came or sheep would not act more foolishly, who trusted 
 that a deformed diminutive bull or ram would produce 
 him good stock, than the corn farmer does who uses 
 unsound or imperfect seed. Without reasoning, how- 
 ever, on these matters, it may be stated, that we have 
 seen fields which were partly sown with sound, partly 
 with mildewed seed, and the difference was discernible 
 at one glance through the whole winter months. 
 
 We have in substance admitted, that mildewed seed 
 will vegetate, though, in one mstance, wc remember of 
 a field sown with such seed, where three-fourths of the 
 grain at least lay altogether dormant; but we contend, 
 even under the above admission, that such seed ought 
 not to be trusted, since it furnishes plants unable to 
 withstand the severe blasts of winter and spring. It is 
 well known, that, in some seasons, even the strongest 
 rooted wheat suffers severely ; and there is no doubt 
 but that the weak and feeble plants always perish first. 
 But what may be expected when the whole plants are 
 weak and debilitated, as necessarily must be the case 
 with those produced from light grain, till the coronal 
 roots are formed, and able to search for food ? When 
 that period arrives, perhaps, the battle is in a great 
 measure won ; but how many thousands may be slain 
 before that stage is reached. That there is a danger 
 from weak seed, and not a small one, we presume will 
 not be disputed ; and that the farmer who exposes him- 
 self to such a danger does not act wisely, requires no 
 demonstration. 
 
 But another reason operates with us against the use 
 of mildewed wheat, which at least deserves considera- 
 tion: — Is there not some risk that the disease may be 
 conveyed from the parent to the crop, and that the pro- 
 duce may thereby be lessened ? We do not go so far as 
 to say, that this disease, like snmt, begets its like, 
 though there is a degree of risk in the use of mildewed 
 seed, which no prudent farmer would choose to hazard, 
 who could avoid it. On this point, we have the respect- 
 able support of sir John Sinclair, baronet, who, in an 
 address to the members of the Board of Agriculture, 
 September 1795, says, — " Every exertion ought to bo 
 made to secure an abundant supply of wheat ; and, for 
 the purpose of effecting so desirable an object, it is 
 essentially necessary that none but the best seed should 
 be made use of. In some parts of the kingdom, parti- 
 cularly in Yorkshire, the mildew has been much com- 
 plained of. .Any seed infected luilh that disorder ougia 
 to be avoided as much as fiossidle, and untainted seed, at 
 any expense^ ought to be firocured." Sir John, in this 
 advice, displays a correctness of opinion, which we trust 
 will never be lost sight of by the farmers of Great 
 Britain. 
 
 7. On Harvest Management. — It is advantageous to 
 cut wheat before it is fully ripe ; but in ascertaining 
 the proper state, it is necessary to discriminate betwixt 
 the ripeness of the straw and the ripeness of the gi-ain ; 
 for, in some seasons, the straw dies upwards ; under 
 which circumstance, a field, to the eye, may appear to 
 be completely fit for the sickle, when, in reality, the 
 grain is imperfectly consolidated, and perhaps not much 
 removed from a milky state. Though it is ob\ious that.
 
 280 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 under such circumstances, no further benefit can be con- 
 A'cjcd from tlie root, and tliat nourishment is witlihuUl 
 the moment that tne roois die ; yet it docs not follow, 
 that gram so circumstanced sliouid be immediately cut : 
 because, alter that operation is performed, it is in a 
 great measure necessarily deprived of every benefit ironi 
 tlie sun and an-, both of which have greater influence in 
 bringing it to maturity, so long as it remains on foot, 
 tlian wiien cut down, whether laid on the ground, or 
 bound up in sheaves. The state of the weather at the 
 time also deserves notice ; for, in moist, or even variable 
 weather, every kuid of grain, when cut prematurely, is 
 more exposed to damage than when completely ripened. 
 All these tniags u ill be studied by the skilful husband- 
 man, who will also take inio consideration the dangers 
 which may toUow, were he to permit his wheat crop to 
 rcmahi uncut till complc.ely ripened. The danger 
 from wind will not be lost sight of, especially if the sea- 
 son oi the cqumox approaches ; even the quantity drop- 
 pea in tne field, and in the stack-yard, when wheat is 
 over ripe, is an object of consideration. Taking all 
 these things into viev/, it seems prudent to have wheat 
 cut before it is fully ripe, as less damage will be sustain- 
 ed from acting in this way than by adopting a contrary 
 practice. 
 
 If the weather be dry, and the straw clean, wheat may 
 be carted to the stack-yard in a few days ; in deed, if 
 quite ripe, it may be stacked immediately from the 
 sickle, especially when not meant for early thrashing. 
 So long, hovve*'er, as any moisture remains in the straw, 
 the field will be found to be the best stackyard ; and 
 where grass or weeds of any kind are mixed with the 
 crop, patience must be exerted till they are decayed and 
 dried, lest heating be occasioned ; which, independent 
 of the loss, is to the farmer a most disgraceful affair. 
 
 8 On Thrashing Wheat. — Before thrashing machines 
 were introduced, the task of separating wheat from the 
 straw was arduous and difficult. The expense was very 
 considerable, whilst the severity of the labour almost 
 exceeded the power of the strongest man, especially in 
 unfavourable seasons, when the grain adhered perti- 
 naciously to the ear, and could not, without difficulty, be 
 completely loosened and removed. In such seasons, 
 expense was the smallest consideration which influenced 
 the husbandman ; it was the quantity of grain unavoida- 
 bly lost which occupied his attention ; and, as it appeared 
 difficult to find out a remedy, most people considered it 
 as an evil which could scarcely be avoided. In short, 
 the loss was great in almost every case, but greater with 
 wheat than any other grain. Every thing of this nature, 
 however, may be prevented, now that thrashing ma- 
 chines are introduced, provided the feeder is careful, 
 and proportions the quantity on the board to the strength 
 of the impelling power. Wheat, in fact, is now the 
 cleanest thrashed grain ; because the length of the straw 
 allows it to be properly beat out before it passes the 
 machine, which sometimes is not the case with short 
 oats and barley. If horses are used as the impelling 
 power, thin feeding is necessary, otherwise the animals 
 may be injured ; but where wind or water is employed, 
 the business of thrashing is executed speedily, com- 
 pletely, and economically. 
 
 The late Benjamin Bell, Esq. of Hunthill, made va- 
 rious experiments, to ascertain, w hether light or imper- 
 fect seed would vegetate, and produce a crop equal to 
 what might be obtained from seed perfectly ripened and 
 safely harvested. The result of these cxperhnents 
 
 strongly confirms what we have urged with respect to the 
 use of mildewed or diseased grain for seed ; and had ii 
 not been rather inconsistent with the nature ol this 
 work, wc would have extracted from his statement the 
 whole particulars connected with the subject under con- 
 sideration. 
 
 We may only mention, that Dr Bell, in October 1783, 
 sowed a field of twelve acres wiiii nine bolls of wheat, 
 of which an English quarter, or something less than 
 two bolls, was the best that could be procured in the 
 London market ol crop 1783. Five bolls ot tlie produce 
 01 East Lothian crop 1783 was also used, and one boll 
 of the best wheat in the Loiidon market of crop 1782'; 
 and one boll of the produce of wheat near Edinburgh, 
 in the same year, made out the total quantity. H_re 
 it must be remarked, tnat 1782 was a season generally 
 unfavourable to raising wheat in perfection, but that 
 in 1 783 that grain was sound, and of excellent quality. 
 
 The field, upon which the above parcels of wheat were 
 sown, was well fallowed, and equally manured with 
 dung, and the whole seeds were sown in the beginning 
 of Ociober, after each of them had been washed, in 
 strong brUie, and afterwards dried with new slacked lime. 
 The English seed of crop 1783 was sown on one sid<; 
 of the field, and half a boll of the Mid Lothian seed of 
 crop 1782 on three ridges next to it. To this succeeded 
 the English wheat of the same crop ; then the East Lo- 
 thian wheat, and next to it tlie other half boll of Mid Lo- 
 thian wheat of 1782. 
 
 The field being all in good condition, the wheat ap- 
 peared early above the surface, and the shoots were 
 every where strong, excepting on those ridges sown with 
 Mid Lothian wheat of crop 1782, on which the plants 
 were weak, and not very numerous. Neither did they 
 spread or tiller like the others ; so that during the win- 
 ter and spring months the wheat on these ridges had a 
 weak appearance, and in harvest the straw was not only 
 thin and of little length, but the ears were short and 
 small, and the grain on this part of the field was not so 
 large or heavy as on other parts. 
 
 It was also found, on being thrashed and measured, 
 that the produce of the wheat of crop 1782 was only 
 eleven bolls, or five and a half for one ; whereas the pro- 
 duce of the rest of the field was fully fifteen for every 
 boll of seed sown, The difference in value was also 
 considerable, the produce of the Mid Lothian wheat 
 selling five shillings per boll lower than the others. 
 
 From the above statement, a powerful motive occurs 
 forushig only the best com for seed, the truth of which 
 cannot be too strongly inculcated. Indeed, we have al- 
 ways considered the doctrine broached by Sir Joseph 
 Banks, Bart, some years ago, as inimical to the true in- 
 terests of agriculture. That light or imperfect seed 
 will vegetate and send forth a stalk or plant, may easily 
 be admitted ; but that the pi-oduce of that stalk or plant 
 will be so healthy or great as what may be obtained from 
 plump well filled seed, will scarcely be questioned by any 
 one who is not a slave to system. Very great pains 
 have been used by British breeders to procreate animals 
 from the best and most approved kinds of cattle and 
 sheep ; but were it admitted that light, diseased, and 
 imperfect grain, was capable of making an equal return 
 to the grower, quantity and quality being taken into con- 
 sideration, it is plam that the breeders of live-stock are 
 demonstrably wrong in selecting the strongest and best 
 proportioned animals as the basis of their breeding 
 stock. la making tlicse selections, however, every man
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 281 
 
 will acknowledge, that they acted with judgment ; there- 
 fore it necessarily follows, that the growers of corn, wlio 
 make use of defective grain for seeding their fields, 
 neither consult their own interest, nor act with that de- 
 gree of judgment and understanding which ought to in- 
 fluence and govern every good husbandman. 
 
 On Barley. 
 
 Next to wheat, the most valuable graift is barley, 
 especially on light and sharp soils. Tliis grain, how- 
 ever, is less cultivated than in former times ; because 
 the immense taxation on it, when made into malt, in 
 the first instance, and afterwards when brewed or dis- 
 tilled into ale or spirits, has contributed to decrease 
 the demand, and consequently to diminish the value of 
 this article. Another reason for its decreased culture 
 may be assigned, namely, that the quantity used as 
 bread-corn is now very trifling. These circumstances 
 conjoined, have, for several years, rendered the cul- 
 tivation of barley, unless in situations extremely fa- 
 vourable, of less advantage to the farmer than any other 
 grain. 
 
 Besides, barley is a tender grain, and easily hurt in 
 any of the stages of its growth, particularly at seed time ; 
 a heavy shower of rain will then almost ruin a crop on 
 the best prepared land ; and in all the after-processes, 
 greater pains and attention are required to ensure suc- 
 cess, than in the case of other grains. The harvest 
 process is difficult, and often attended with danger; 
 even the thrashing of it is not easily executed with 
 machines, because the awn generally adheres to the 
 grain, and renders separation from the straw a trouble- 
 some task. Barley, in fact, is raised at greater expense 
 than wheat, and, generally speaking, is a more hazardous 
 crop. Except upon rich and genial soils, where climate 
 will allow wheat to be perfectly reared, it ought not to 
 be cultivated. 
 
 Barley may be divided into two sorts, early and late ; 
 to which may be added a bastard variety, called bear, or 
 bigg, which affords similar nutriment, or substance, 
 though of inferior quality. Early barley, under various 
 names, was formerly sown, in Britain, upon lands that 
 had been previously summer-fallowed, or were in high 
 condition ; but this mode of culture being in a great 
 measure renounced, the common sort, which admits of 
 being sown either early or late, is now generally used. 
 The most proper seed-season is any time in April, 
 though we have seen good crops produced, the seed of 
 which was sown at a much later period. Bear, or bigg, 
 may be sown still later than common barley ; because it 
 ripens with greater rapidity. But, as a general prin- 
 ciple, where land is in order, early sowing, of every vari- 
 ety, is most desirable. 
 
 PrcjiamtUm. — Barley is chiefly taken after turnips, 
 sometimes after pease and beans, but rarely, by good 
 farmers, eitl^cr after wheat or oats, unless under special 
 circumstances. When sown after turnips, it is generally 
 taken with one furrow, which is given as fast as the 
 turnips are consumed, the ground thus receiving much 
 benefit from the spring frosts. But often two or more 
 furrows are necessary for the fields last consumed : be- 
 cause, when a spring drought sets in, the surface, from 
 being poached by the removal or consumption of the 
 crop, gets so hardened as to render a greater quantity 
 of ploughing, harrowing, and rolling necessary, than 
 would otherwise be called for. When sown after beans 
 
 Vol. I, Part I. 
 
 and pease, one winter and one spring ploughing arc 
 usually bestowed ; but, when after wheat or oats, three 
 ploughings are necessary, so tliat the ground may be 
 put in proper condition. TJiese operations are very 
 ticklish in a wet and backward season, and rai'ely in that 
 case is the grower paid for the expense of liis labour. 
 Where land is in such a situation as to require three 
 ploughings, before it can be seeded with barley, it is 
 better to summer fallow it at once, than to run the risks 
 which seldom fail to accompany a quantity of spring- 
 labour. If the weather be dry, moisture is lost during 
 the different processes, and an imperfect braird neces- 
 sarily follows : if it be wet, the benefit of ploughing is 
 lost, and all the evils of a wet seed-time arc sustained by 
 the future crop. 
 
 Quaniitij of Seed. — The quantity sown is different in 
 diflerent cases, according to the quality of the soil, and 
 other circumstances. Upon very rich lands, eight 
 pecks per acre are sometimes sown ; twelve is very- 
 common ; and, upon poor land, more is sometimes given. 
 Among the best farmers, it seems a disputed point, 
 whether the practice of giving so small a quantity of 
 seed to the best lands is advantageous. That there is 
 a saving of grain, there can be no doubt ; and that the 
 bulk may be as great, as if more seed had been sown, 
 there can be as little question. Little argument, how- 
 ever, is necessary to prove, that thin sowing of barley 
 nmst be attended with considerable disadvantage ; for, 
 if the early part of the season be dry, the plants will not 
 only be stinted in their growth but will not send out off- 
 sets ; and, if rain afterwards fall, an occurrence that 
 must take place some time during the summer, often at 
 a later period of it, the plants begin to stool, and send 
 out a ntmiber of young shoots. These young shoots, 
 imlcss under very favourable circumstances, cannot 
 be expected to arrive at maturity ; or, if their ripen- 
 ing is waited for, there will be a great risk of losing 
 the early part of the crop, a circumstance that fre- 
 quently happens. In almost every instance, an unequal 
 sample is produced, and the grain is for the most 
 part of an inferior quality. By good judges, it is 
 thought preferable to sow a quantity of seed sufficient 
 to ensure a full crop, without depending on its sending 
 out offsets; indeed, where that is done, few oft'sets arc 
 produced, the crop grows and ripens equally, and the 
 grain is uniformly good. 
 
 Harcesting. — Alore care is required in the harvesting 
 of barley, than any of the other white crops, even in the 
 best of seasons ; and in bad years it is often found very 
 difficult to save it. Owing to the brittleness of the straw, 
 after it has reached a certain period, it must be cut 
 down; as, when it is suffered to stand longer, much loss 
 is sustained by the breaking of the heads. On that ac- 
 count, it is cut at a time when the grain is soft, and the 
 straw retains a great proportion of its natin-al juices, 
 consequently requires a long time in the field, before 
 either the grain is hardened, or the straw sufficiently 
 dry. When put into the stack sooner, it is apt to heat, 
 and much loss is frequently sustained. It is a custom 
 with many farmers to have an opening in the middle of 
 their barley stacks, from top to bottom. This openijig 
 is generally made by placing a large bundle of straw in 
 the centre of the stack, when the building commences, 
 and, in proportion as it rises, the straw is drawn upwards, 
 leaving a hollow behind ; which, if one or two openings 
 are left in the side of the stack near the bottom, en- 
 sures so complete a circulation of air, as not onlv to 
 N n
 
 :>82 
 
 AGUICULTURE. 
 
 pi-eveiu licminj^, but to pret>eivc tlie grain from becom- 
 ing; musty. 
 
 On Oats. 
 
 Ol this i;ialii ilic varieties are more numerous than 
 uf any other of the ciihniferous tribe. These varieties 
 consist oi what is called the conmion oat ; the Angus 
 oat, which we consider as an improved variety of the 
 other; the Poland oat; the Friesland oat; the red oat; 
 the dun oat ; the Tartar, or Siberian oat ; and the potatoe 
 oat. The Poland and potatoe varieties are best adapted 
 to rich soils ; the red oat, for late climates ; and the other 
 varieties, for the generality of soils, of which the Bri- 
 tish isles are composed. The Tartar, or Siberian kind, 
 though very hardy and prolific, is much out of use, be- 
 ing of a coarse sulistanee, and unproductive of meal. 
 The dun oat has never been much cultivated; and the 
 use of Poland's and Friesland's is now much circum- 
 scribed, since potatoe oats were introduced, the latter 
 being considered, by the most discerning agriculturists, 
 as of superior value, in every respect, where the soil is 
 rich and properly cultivated. 
 
 Prejiaration — Oats are chiefly sown after grass ; 
 sometimes upon land not rich enough for wheat, that had 
 been previously summer-fallowed, or had carried tur- 
 nips ; often after barley, and rarely after wheat, unless 
 crosS-cropping, from particular circumstances, becomes 
 a necessary evil. One ploughing is generally given to 
 the grass lands, usually in the month of January, so that 
 the benefit of frost may be gained, and the land suffi- 
 ciently mellowed for receiving the harrow. In some 
 cases, a spring furrow is given, when oats succeed wheat 
 or barley, especially when grass seeds are to accompany 
 the crop. The best oats, both in quantity and quality, 
 are always those which succeed grass ; indeed, no kind 
 of grain seems better qualified by nature, for foraging 
 upon grass land, than oats ; as a full crop is usually ol)- 
 tained in the first instance, and the land left in good or- 
 der for succeeding ones. 
 
 Quantity of Seed. — From twelve to eighteen pecks of 
 seed is generally allowed to the Scottish acre of ground, 
 according to the richness of the soil, and the variety 
 that is cultivated. Here it may be remarked, that land, 
 sown with potatoe oats, requires much less seed, in point 
 of measure, than when any of the other sorts are used ; 
 because potatoe oats both tiller well, much better than 
 Poland ones, and have not an awn, or tail, like the ordi- 
 jiary varieties. On that account, a measure contains 
 many more seeds of them, than of any other kind. If 
 land is equally well cultivated, we have little doubt, but 
 that the like quantity of seed, given when barley is cul- 
 tivated, may be safely trusted to when potatoe oats arc 
 to be raised. 
 
 Harx'esting. — Oats arc a hardy grain, and rarely get 
 much damage when under the harvest process, except 
 from high winds, or from shedding, when opened out 
 after being thoroughly wetted. The early varieties are 
 much more liable to these losses, than the late ones ; 
 because the grain parts more easily from the straw, an 
 evil to which the best of grain is at all times subject. 
 Early oats, however, may be cut a little quick, which, to 
 a certain extent, lessens the danger to which they are 
 exposed from high winds ; and, if the sheaves be made 
 small, the danger from shedding after rains is conside- 
 rably lessened, because they are thus sooner ready for 
 t he stack. Under every managemeiit, however, a greater 
 
 quantity of early oats will be lost during the harvest 
 process, than of late ones; because the latter adheie 
 firmly to the straw, and consequently do not drop so 
 easily as the former. 
 
 J'ruUuce. — Oats are generally supposed to be mort 
 productive in Scotland than in England; and the qua- 
 lity of the produce is also, in like manner, supposed to 
 be considerably superior. Were it necessary to assign 
 reasons for the difl'erence, the following might be men- 
 tioned: — 1. In Scotland, this grain gels an equal share 
 of good soil witli others ; whereas in England, tlie worst, 
 or inferior, soils are usually allotted for the growth of 
 oats, the best being reserved for wheat and barley. 2, 
 The climate of Scotland n^ay be considered as more 
 favourable to oats than that of England, being of a muis- 
 ter nature, and rarely so warm, consequently better cal- 
 culated to brhig this grain to perfection. When a dry 
 summer occurs in Scotland, it rarely happens that oats 
 yield well, either in the barn or the mill, being of a 
 smaller size, thicker m the husk, and with a longer 
 awn, or tail, than they usually are in moist seasons. 
 Though we do not urge these reasons as sure and cer- 
 tain ones, why the produce, as to quantity and quality, 
 is different in the two countries, yet we are much in- 
 clined to think, that, to one or other of them, or to 
 them both conjoined, the difl'erence may be fairly as- 
 cribed. 
 
 Before we finish this part of the subject, it may be 
 necessary to urge a few words more in favour of the 
 potatoe oat, one of the most valuable varieties cultivated 
 at this time in the island. The origin of this variety 
 cannot be easily traced; but it was pretty generally in- 
 troduced over all Scotland in 1801 and 1802, and is now 
 the oat most generally cultivated upon all soils of decent 
 c[uality, or in good condition. It is not a favourite with 
 some people upon shallow soils, as it yields less fodder 
 than other varieties; but upon all deep or tender loams, 
 especially such as have been taken up from grass, no 
 kind of oat w ill make such an abundant return to the 
 farmer, whether the number of bolls per acre, or the 
 quantity of meal produced from these bolls, be consider- 
 ed. Perhaps this variety has, in some respects, dege- 
 nerated already, owing to the farina of other oats having 
 communicated with it ; but this remark was more ap- 
 plicable when potatoe oats were first introduced, and 
 sown in small quantities in the same field with other 
 varieties, than at this time v^hen v/liole fields are occu- 
 pied with them. Still it is allowed, that degeneracy has 
 taken place, to a certain extent ; but it is presumed tliat 
 the consequences might be removed with ease, were 
 first principles returned to. To make a selection of the 
 strongest ears, which carried the purest grain, is not a 
 difficult business ; and were this selection attended to 
 by half a dozen farmers in a district, it is obvious, that 
 the breed, or variety, might be preserved pure and uii- 
 contaminated. If slovenly farmers were not provided 
 with good seed, it would be their own fault, since, if they 
 would not take the trouble to select and breed for their 
 own use, they might always be provided for by those 
 who were either better qualified for making the selec- 
 tion, or were more attentive to the interests of agri- 
 culture. 
 
 On Rye. 
 
 Rye was much more extensively cultivated in Britain 
 in ancient, than in modern times, being then a general
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 28. 
 
 article of bread-earn, though now only partially used in 
 certain districts for tliat purpose, or in tlie distillation of 
 spirits. Perhaps to change of taste, or want of con- 
 sumption, may be attributed the great decrease of this 
 grain ; for, upon sandy soils, none are more productive, 
 nor will any pay the farmer better for tlie expense of 
 euKivation, than this unfashionable grain. 
 
 Rye ought never to be sown upon wet soils, nor even 
 upon sandy soils where the subsoil is of a retentive na- 
 ture. Upon downs, links, and all soft lands, which have 
 received manure, this grain thrives in perfection, and, 
 if once covered in, will sland a ci.'ought afterwards, that 
 would consume any of the culmiferous trilje. The seve- 
 ral processes may be regarded as nearly the same with 
 those recommended for wheat, with the single exception 
 of pickling, which rye does not require. Rye may be 
 sown either in winter or spring, though the winter- 
 seeded fields arc generally bulkiest and most produc- 
 tive. It may succeed either summer fallow, clover, or 
 turnips ; even after oats, good crops have been raised, 
 and where such crops are raised, the land will always 
 he found in good condition. 
 
 Sect. III. 
 
 On the Cnlllvatifjn of Leguminous Crojis. 
 
 Though culmiferous crops have, in all ages, been 
 regarded as most profitable for the husbandman, there 
 is no doubt, but that rural management is most suitably 
 exercised, when due attention is paid to the preparative 
 crops, or those which are naturally calculated to enrich 
 or fertilize the soil, and to furnish an increased stock of 
 manure for supporting and invigorating its powers, 
 after having carried culmiferous crops. These prepara- 
 tive or enriching crops are usually called leguminous 
 ones ; and here we shall rank under that head, 1 . 
 Beans; 2. Pease; 3. Tares; 4. Potatoes; 5. Turnips; 
 6. Ruta Baga; 7. Cabbages; 8. Carrots. Clover and 
 rye-grass might, with propriety, have also been inclu- 
 ded; but these we shall reserve as subjects for the next 
 Chapter. 
 
 On Beans. 
 
 Beans are a grain long known in Briiain ; but it is 
 only of late years, that they were extensively cultiva- 
 ted upon general soils, being formerly considered as 
 adapted only to rich and moist clays. At that time, 
 they were all sown according to the broad-cast system ; 
 in which way, instead of benefiting the ground, they 
 were of incalculable detriment. Weeds got away at 
 tlie outset, and, in dry seasons, often ruined the crop ; 
 whilst, in every season, the grass or perennial weeds, 
 Avliich happened to be in the ground, hicrcased in 
 strength and in quantity, the openness of the bean 
 crop at bottom allowing them to thrive without inter- 
 ruption. 
 
 The drilling of beans with a small mixture of pease is 
 now become a general practice, in every well cultivated 
 district, more particularly in those where soil and cli- 
 mate permit the practice to be successfully executed. 
 In this way, not only heavy crops are raised, but, what 
 is of great importance, the ground is kept constantly in 
 good order, provided suitable attention is bestowed upon 
 the cleaning process. This is generally carried on by 
 horsc-hocing the crop at different times, so long as the 
 hoe can be used without doing damage ; and in this way, 
 
 an able auxiliary is brought forward to the assistance of 
 summer fallow, whereby less stress need be laid upon 
 that radical process than otherwise would be indispensa- 
 bly necessary. 
 
 Tlie different branches of bean culture may be divi- 
 ded into, — preparation, mode of sowing, (|uanlity of seed 
 reciuired, hoeing process, harvest management, and pro- 
 duce. These particulars shall be brielly illustrated. 
 
 Prc/uiration. — Beans naturally succeed a culmiferous 
 crop ; and we believe it is not of much importance wliicii 
 of the varieties are followed, providing the groiuid is in 
 decent order, and not worn out by the previotis crop. The 
 furrow ought to be given early in winter, and as deep 
 as possible, that the earth may be sufficiently looscnea, 
 and room afforded for the roots oi the plant to search 
 for the requisite nourishment. This first furrow is 
 usually given across the field, which is the best method 
 when only one spring furrow is intended ; but as it is 
 now ascertained, that two spring furrows are highly ad- 
 vantageous, perhaps the one in winter ought to be 
 given in length, wliich lays the ground in a better situa- 
 tion for resisting tlie rains, and renders it sooner dry in 
 spring, than can be the case when ploughed across. On 
 the supposition, that three Iuitows are to be given, one 
 in winter, and two in spring, the following is the 
 most eligible preparation. 
 
 The land being ploughed in length, as early in winter 
 as is practicable, and the gaii< and head-land furrows 
 sufficiently digged out, take the second furrow across 
 the first as soon as the ground is dry enough in spring 
 to undergo the operation; water-furrow it nnmediately, 
 and dig again the g-«Tu and head-land furrows, otherwise 
 the ben('fit of the second furrow may be lost. This 
 being done, leave the field for some days, till it is suffi- 
 ciently dry, when a cast of the harrows becomes neces- 
 sary, so that the surface may be le\elled. Then enter 
 with the ploughs, and form the drills, which are generally 
 made up with an interval of 27 inches. In the hollow 
 of this interval, deposit the seed by a drill-barrow, 
 and reverse or slit out the drills to cover the seed, 
 which finishes the process for the time. In ten or 
 twelve days afterwards, according to the state of the 
 weather, cross-harrow the drills, thereby levelling the 
 field for the hoeing process. Watcr-furi-ow the whole 
 in a neat manner, and spade and shovel ih.e gavj 
 and head-land furrows, which concludes the v.hole pro- 
 cess. 
 
 This is the most approved way of drilling beans, 
 though in some seasons, upon wet soils, sucii a method 
 cannot be practised. The next best mode is therefore to 
 give only one spring fun-ow, and to run the drill-barrow 
 afterevery third plough, in which way, the intervals are 
 nearly of the same extent as already mentioned. Har- 
 rowing is afterwards required, before the y-oung plants 
 reach the surface, and water-furrowing, Sec. as formerly 
 described. In this nianr.er, heavy crops have been raised, 
 tliough not with such exactness as is practicable in the 
 other. The ground is also left in a worse condition, con- 
 sequently the hoeing process is performed with greater 
 difiiculty, and rarely executed in a perfect manner. 
 These inconveniences, however, must be submitted to in 
 adverse seasons ; indeed, they often cannot be avoided ljy 
 the most <lexterous husbandman, unless seed-time is put 
 so far back as to render the after-crop an unproduetivc 
 one. 
 
 Dung is often given to beans, especially when they 
 succeed wheat, which had not received manure. The 
 N a 2
 
 284 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 best way is to apply the dunj; (in llie stubble l)efore the 
 ■winter lurrow is given, which greatly facilitates Uie 
 after process. Used in this way, a fore stock must be in 
 hand ; but where the fiU'iner is not so well provided, 
 spring dunging becomes necessary, though evidently of 
 less advantage. At that season, it may either be put 
 into the drills before the seed is sown, or spread upon 
 the surface and ploughed down according to the nature 
 of the drilling process, which is meant to be adopted. 
 Land dunged to beans, if duly hoed, is always in high 
 order lor carrying a crop of wheat in succession. Per- 
 haps better wheat, both in respect of quantity and qual- 
 ity, may be cultivated in this way, than in any other mode 
 of sowing. Different machmes have been invented 
 for drilling beans ; but the most common and handy 
 implement is one of the barrow form. This hand-drill 
 is pusiied forward by a man or woman, and will, accord- 
 ing as the brush or director is lowered or heightened, 
 sow thicker or thinner, as may be expedient and neces- 
 sary. Another machine drawn by a horse, and sowing 
 three drills at a time, has been constructed, and, upon 
 flat lands, will certainly distribute the seed with the most 
 minute exactness. Upon unequal fields, and even on 
 those laid out in high ridges, the use of this machine is 
 attended with a degree of inconvenience sufficient to 
 balance its advantages. The hand-drill therefore, in all 
 probability, will be retained for general use, though the 
 other is capable of performing the work with minuter 
 regularity. 
 
 QtianiUy of Seed. — In England, beans are usually 
 sown nmch thinner, than repeated trials, which have 
 been made, will authorize in Scotland. The English 
 writers speak of two or three bushels as a sufficient 
 quantity to seed an acre ; whereas less than five cannot 
 be used in Scotland, without producing a small crop, and 
 a foul field. As the English acre is one-fifth less than 
 the Scottish, it would appear, that less than four bushels 
 ought not to be hazarded, if a full crop is expected. 
 We seldom have seen thin beans turn out well, unless 
 tlie soil is particularly rich ; nay, unless the rows close, 
 weeds will get away after the cleaning process is finished, 
 thereby disappointing the object of drilling, and ren- 
 dering the system of little avail towards keeping the 
 ground in good condition. 
 
 Hoeing Process. — Beans are cleaned in various ways ; 
 1. By the hand-hoc. 2. By the scraper, or Dutch-hoe. 
 3. By a plough of small dimensions ; but constructed 
 upon the prhiciples of the approved swing plough. 
 Ploughs with double mould-boards are likewise used to 
 earth them up ; and, with all good managers, the weeds 
 in the drills, which cannot be touched by the hoe, are 
 pulled out by the hand, otherwise no field can be con- 
 sidered as duly cleaned. 
 
 In treating of the cleaning process, without noticing 
 farther the various ways in which it is executed, we shall 
 confine ourselves to the one which we have found most 
 suited to the generality of bean soils. About ten or 
 twelve days after the young plants have appeared above 
 the surface, enter with the scraper, and loosen any weeds 
 that may have vegetated. At this time, the wings, or 
 cutters, of the implement ought to be particularly sharp, 
 so that the scraper may not run too deep, and throw the 
 earth upon the plants. In about ten days after the ground 
 is scraped, according to the state of the weather, and 
 other circumstances, use the small swing plough to lay 
 the earth away from the sides of the rows ; and, in doing 
 so, go as near to the plants as possible ; taking care. 
 
 at the same time, not to loosen their roots, if any 
 weeds stand in the rows, pull them out with the hand ; 
 afterwards earth-up the plants with the small swing 
 plough, or run the scraper in the intervals, as may seem 
 expedient. Botli ways are eligible ; but, when properly 
 earthed up, some people are of opinion, that Uie plants 
 are nourished by the operation ; while others think, 
 that the benefit gained in that way is counterbalanced 
 by the extra trouble attendant upon cutting the crop, the 
 bottom being necessarily more unecjual, than when the 
 scraper is employed to conclude ilie cleaning pro- 
 cess. 
 
 Harvest Management. — Before beans aie cut, the 
 grain ought to be tolerably well ripened, otherwise the 
 quality is impaired, whilst a long time is required to put 
 the straw in such a condition as to be preserved in the 
 stack. In an early harvest, or where the crop is not 
 weighty, it is an easy matter to get beans sufficiently 
 ripened ; but, in a late harvest, and in every one where 
 the crop takes on a second growtli, it is scarcely practi- 
 cable to get them tnoroughly ripened for the sickle. Un- 
 der these circumstances, it is unnecessary to let beans 
 stand uncut after the end of September or the first ot 
 October ; because any benefit, that can be gained after- 
 waitls, is not to be compared with the disad\antagcs 
 that accompany a late wheat seed-time. Beans are usu- 
 ally cut with the sickle, and tied in sheaves, either with 
 straw ropes, or w ith ropes made from pease sown along 
 with them. It is proper to let the sheaves lie untied 
 several' days, so that the winning process may be hast- 
 ened, and, when tied, to set them up on end, in order 
 that full benefit from the air may be obtained, and the 
 grain kept off the ground. In buiiduig bean slacks, it 
 is an useful measure, for preserving both grain and 
 straw from injuiy, to keep an opening in the centre, and 
 to convey air from the extremity by a bole, or funnel. 
 Beans, on the whole, are a troublesome crop to the 
 farmer, though of great utility in other respects. With- 
 out them heavy soils can scarcely be managed with ad- 
 vantage, unless summer fallow is resorted to once in four 
 years ; but, by the aid derived from drilled beans, 
 summer fullow may be avoided for eight or ten years, 
 whilst the ground, at that period, will be found in equal, 
 if not superior condition. 
 
 Produce. — Beans, where proper management is exer- 
 cised, and natural diseases avoided, are generajly a crop 
 of considerable value, yielding from 32 to 40 bushels 
 per Scottish acre. The straw, especially when mixed 
 with pease, is also of great advantage to the working 
 stock, affording almost as much nourishment, when pro- 
 perly harvested, as is gained from hay of ordinary qual- 
 ity. The broad-cast crops are sometimes of equal value 
 with those that arc drilled ; but the true object of beans 
 being to prepare the ground for the admission of another 
 crop of much greater value, it follows, of course, tliat 
 every mode of cultivating them, which precludes the 
 ground from being suitably cleaned, ought to be repro- 
 bated and condemned by the practical agriculturist, who 
 wishes to keep his land constantly in good order, and 
 under a rotation of crops, capable of yielding the 
 largest return at the least possible expense. 
 
 It has been disputed, whether broad or narrow inter- 
 vals are most advantageous, and the latter mode has 
 been chiefly adopted in the English bean districts, though 
 evidently hostile to perfect culture. Hand-hoeing is 
 therefore generally resorted to, though that operation, at 
 the best, is of small avail on clay soils. Whether by tlie
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 28; 
 
 xisc of narrow or broad intervals, the weightiest crop 
 can be raised, seems, at first sight i)roblcmaticiil ; 
 doubts on this point, occasioned us many years ago to 
 make trials to ascertain the most proper distance, and 
 the result of these trials shall now be detailed. 
 
 We marked off an acre ef ground, the soil a light 
 free loam, which had carried a crop ol' oats tlie prece- 
 ding year. It was deep ploughed in winter, and re- 
 ceived dung previous to the seed-1'urrow, which was 
 given as shallow as possible, in order tliat tlie plants 
 might have sullicient soil to strike down their roots. It 
 was divided into three parts. Part No. 1. was drilled 
 with intervals ot 27 inches, or, in other words, the bar- 
 row followed every third plough. No. 2. was drilled af- 
 ter the second plough, which reduced the intervals to 
 20 inches, or thereby. No. 3. had intervals of the same 
 breadth as No. 1.; but two rows stood together, or in 
 each furrow, which gave about the same number of drills 
 as stood on part No. 2., and about one-third more than 
 part No. 1. They were sufficiently harrowed immedi- 
 ately before brairding, carefully hand-hoed afterwards, 
 and finally bulked up with a neat double-moulded-board 
 plough, which performed the work in a very purfcct 
 manner. Tiie crop at harvest was good ; but, when cut, 
 the stalk was smaller, and the pods not so well filled, 
 upon those which occupied No. 2., as upon the other 
 t« o divisions, where the intervals were wider, and con- 
 sequently a freer admission given to the air, which wc 
 have since found to be necessary in the culture of every 
 article of the leguminous kind. When the crop was 
 thrashed, it was found that one firlot more beans were 
 upon No. I. than upon No. 2. ; and No. 3. only returned 
 the same produce as No. 1., though it contained several 
 more drills ; besides, owing to the double rows, it was 
 nothing like so well cleaned. The inferences drawn at 
 the time, and which have since guided our conduct in 
 this branch of husbandi-y, were, lit, That a certain por- 
 tion of air was required to bring beans to perfection ; 
 and that the quantity to be procured, when the intervals 
 were only 18 or 20 inches, was not sufficient for that pur- 
 pose. 2rf, That intervals less than 27 inches would not 
 admit the full benefit of ploughing, which is a chief ob- 
 ject in the drill husbandry. And lastly. That double 
 rows, with wide intervals, were not advantageous, as 
 they neither returned a greater produce, nor allowed the 
 ground to be so well cleaned as single rows. 
 
 Since the above trial, we have uniformly drilled beans 
 upon a great scale, according to the first mentioned me- 
 thod, with this single alteration, that the hand-hoe is 
 laid aside, and the whole operation performed by horse 
 labour. The difTercnt ploughings arc given with one 
 horse, and repeated according to the nature of the soil, 
 and the dryness of the weather. This is the cheapest 
 and most eflectual way of cultivating beans ; and indeed 
 it is now very generally practised. 
 
 The following paper, by Mr Robert Dudgeon, late 
 farmer at Tyningham, extracted from the Transactions 
 of the Society of Arts, &c. shows, in the strongest light 
 the utility of taking beans as a preparatory crop for 
 •wheat. 
 
 " Having been in the practice of sowing wheat after 
 drilled beans, I take the liberty of laying before the So- 
 ciety for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and 
 Commerce, an account of three fields, containing nearly 
 twenty-three and a half acres, (English statute measure), 
 drilled with beans in the spring of 1797, and sown with 
 wheat the same vear. 
 
 One hundred and twenty-six bushels of tick beans 
 were sown, which, at an average, is five bushels one peck 
 and a half of seed per acre. Tlie toul produce was one 
 hundred and thirteen quarters, five bushels, and three 
 pecks ; that is, thirty-eight bushels, three pecks, per 
 acre, uverage produce. 
 
 The field marked No. 1. in the surveyor's certifi- 
 cate, contained 8.26 acres, is part strong red clay, upon 
 a limestone bottom, and part a mixeil soil of clay and 
 loam, upon ihe same bottom ; but the soil is of a greater 
 depth. This held was twice ploughed. The first fur- 
 row was given in October 1796. In February 1797, it 
 was dunged at the rate of sixteen cart-hnuls per acre 
 (containing from fourteen to sixteen hundred weight 
 each,) and immediately got a second ploughing, the 
 beans being drilled into the bottom of the furrow, be- 
 hind the plough. Two acres and a half were drilled at 
 the distance of every third furrow, making an interval 
 of twenty-four inches between the rows; but this being 
 too wide, the remaining part of the field was drilled at 
 the distance of two furrows, making eighteen inches 
 width between the rows. The same quantity of seed 
 per acre, viz. five bushels and three pecks, was sown 
 in both cases ; and at harvest, no apparent difference 
 could be observed in the crop. The beans were drilled 
 on the 27th and 2Sth of February, and the 1st of March, 
 and the field completely harrowed. Some days after- 
 wards, having had a frost, which made the soil crumble 
 and fall, it was harrowed a second time, to reduce the 
 mould to as fine a state as possible. This field was 
 reaped on the 6th, 7th, and 8th of October ; and once 
 ploughed and sown with wheat on the 10th and 1 1th of 
 November, 1797. The produce of beans was forty-se- 
 ven quarters, or forty-five bushels two pecks per acre. 
 
 "The field No. 2. containing 10.88 acres, is part clav, 
 the same as No. 1. upon a limestone bottom, at a consi- 
 derable depth, and part a light deep gravelly soil, with a 
 subsoil of red clay. It was twice ploughed, first in Oc- 
 tober 1796, and lastly in February 1797, immediately af- 
 ter which it was formed into ribs of twenty inches width, 
 by making the horse on the left-hand side of the plough 
 go in the last drawn furrow. The beans were drilled 
 between these ribs on 2d, 3d, and 1 Ith of March, and 
 covered by harrowing first along the drills, and then 
 across with a common harrow, till the surface was per- 
 fectly flat, and the mould fine, the beans being left at a 
 depth of four inches. The quantity of seed per acre 
 was five bushels. This field was reaped on the 4th, 5th, 
 and 6th of October; dunged on the bean stubble, at the 
 rate of fifteen cart-loads per acre ; once ploughed, and 
 sown with wheat, on the 1 3th, 14th, and 22d of Novem- 
 ber, and the 21st of December, 1797. The produce of 
 beans was fifty -one quarters, four bushels, or thirty-se- 
 ven bushels, two pecks, per acre. 
 
 The field No. 3. containing 4.22 acres, is a light 
 gravelly soil, upon a subsoil of sand mixed with small 
 gravel. It was twice ploughed, first in October 1796, 
 and lastly in February 1797. It was afterwards ribbed 
 in the same manner as No. 2, and the beans drilled on 
 the 16th and 17th of March, at the rate of five bushels 
 two pecks per acre, and covered by harrowing the same 
 as No. 2. This field was reaped on the 21st of Septem- 
 ber, and one half of it ploughed. It was then dunged at 
 the rate of eighteen cart-loads per acre, and the whole 
 field ploughed over ; and sown with wheat on the 28th of 
 December, 1797. But the cropof wheat upon that part of 
 the field which got two furrows, was much inferior to that
 
 286 
 
 AUttlCULTURE. 
 
 where il got only one ; wliich shows the impropriety of 
 loosening soils of this quality by repeated ploughing, par- 
 ticularly where the subsoil is so little calculated lor the 
 retention of moisture. The produce of beans upon this 
 field was fifteen quarters one bushel, or twenty-eight 
 bushels two pecks per acre. 
 
 '■'■ Remark. — The superior produce of field No. 1, is 
 not to be attribuied to its being drilled in a ditt'crent 
 manner from No. 2. and 3. but to its being dunged pre- 
 vious to the bean crop, and to the frost happening so 
 opportunely after drilling for getting the mould brought 
 to a fine slate. Indeed, the mode of drilling pursued in 
 this field, is what I never practise, but where local cir- 
 cumstances prevent the other from being adopted ; for, 
 if the furrows are taken so as to stir the soil to a proper 
 depth, the seed is then laid at too great a distance from 
 the surface ; in which case it generally sends up a weak 
 plant. And if such a furrow is only taken as will place 
 the seed at a proper depth, the bottom soil is then left 
 unstirred, whereby the pasture of the plant is greatly 
 circumscribed. The tap root may indeed penetrate the 
 substratum, but the small lateral fibres are prevented 
 from spreading as they ought to do. 
 
 The drill employed was the common hand-drill used 
 in this country, which is pushed along by two handles, 
 like a wheelbarrow, and sows one row at a time. The 
 wheel is about twenty-two inches diameter, of solid deal, 
 vipon the axle of which is also fixed a notched roller of 
 two inches and three quarters diameter, and two inches 
 long, which turns in the fore-part of the drill-box. The 
 quantity of seed is regulated by a slider, which moves up 
 and down in the fore part of the box, by an adjusting 
 screw fixed at top ; the slider having a strong brush pro- 
 jecting from its lower end, which sweeps upon the 
 notched roller. There is also a sluice or slider that lies 
 flat upon the bottom on the inside of the drill-box. This 
 slide projects between the two handles of the drill, so as 
 to be within reach of the person that guides it ; who, by 
 pushing the slide forward, completely covers the rotched 
 roller, and prevents any of the beans getting out while 
 the drill is turning at the end of the ridges. A woman 
 or boy will drill from two to two acres and a half per day, 
 when the rows are at twenty inches distance. 
 
 All the fields were harrowed into a fine mould after 
 sovi^ing ; and when the beans had got above the ground, 
 ..S.nd the first leaves were fairly opened and green, they 
 were again harrow ed with a common harrow, which des- 
 troyed a crop of annual weeds, and saved a great deal of 
 hand-weeding. The bean, at this stage of its growth, is 
 possessed of a toughness that prevents it from receiving 
 any injury by the harrow, provided the land has been 
 pieviously brought to a fine mould, and the operation 
 performed in dry weather. But if the surface is rough, 
 ib.e young plants are in danger of being covered by the 
 < lods; and if the harrowing is given at an early period, 
 before the leai has acquired a green colour, the bean is 
 then in so tender a state as to be broken and destroyed by 
 the harrow. 
 
 Horse-h'ji'ing. — The intervals were horse-hoed at the 
 proper season with a small plough, which is so construc- 
 ted as to prevent any of the mould falling to the left- 
 hand side. This plough was run close along side of one 
 row, by which the mould was turned over to the root of 
 the next. The whole having been gone over in this 
 wav, making one furrow in each interval, the fields were 
 allowed to lie in that state for a week, in order to give 
 tl.c v, eeds time to wi'.her. The hoeing was then rever- 
 
 sed, and the mould turned back again to the other side 
 winch conipleiely destroyed every weed' between tfie 
 rows. 
 
 Exjiense of Cultivation, fiir Acre. 
 
 a. d. 
 
 Ploughing, 5 3 per acre. 
 
 Riboing, 3 2 uitto. 
 
 Sowing, 3 2 ditto. 
 
 Covering the seed, 1 8 ditto. 
 
 Harrowing to kill weeds, 1 ditto. 
 
 Horse -hoeing, 3 ditto. 
 
 Hand-weeding, 2 4 ditto. 
 
 Afifilication of the Straw. — The bean straw was used 
 as fodder for the working horses in winter; for which 
 purpose it is fully equal to pea styaw, commonly used in 
 this part of the country ; and when it is well got, the 
 horses are fonder of it than they are of pea straw. 
 
 The seed-wheat, sown after the twenty-three acres and 
 a half of drilled beans before mentioned, was raised by 
 me from a single grain ; the produce of which, viz. five 
 hundred and forty grains, I planted in the spring of 
 1793. In the spring of 1794-, I planted the relumed 
 produce upon a clover lay, after once ploughing, in rows 
 twelve inches wide, and four inches between the plants, 
 two grains being put into each hole ; but from being 
 planted in the sprmg, and a great drought following, the 
 return was very small. This produce was sown broad- 
 cast, in the ordinary way, and produced in 1796, twelve 
 bushels three pecks. This was likewise sown in the 
 same manner, and produced, in 1796, fifteen quarters; 
 which being also sown broad-cast, produced, in 1797, 
 more than I had occasion to use as seed that season. 
 
 I have for some time practised the raising of my seed- 
 corn from the produce of a single grain, picked while 
 growing in the field, and find it a considerable improve- 
 ment, as it equalizes the period of ripening, and pro- 
 duces a better sample at market, the grain being all 
 nearly of a size. 
 
 As the Society wish for accoimts of wheat sown after 
 drilled beans, I take the liberty of stating (in addition 
 to the above) the following crops, which I have raised 
 in that rotation. 
 
 In 1792 I drilled forty-six acres with beans from the 
 14th to the 28th of March, the land being all ribbed at 
 twenty inches wide, after being most of it twice ploughed ; 
 the crop was reaped from the 22d of September to the 
 16th of October, but the extreme wetness of the season 
 prevented the beans being cleaned off the land till the 
 loth of November, which was sown with wheat from the 
 ISth of February to the 14th of March 1793. 
 
 In 1793 I drilled sixteen acres and a quarter with 
 beans; in 1794, twenty-six acres and a quarter ; in 1795, 
 twenty-one acres and a quarter; and in 1796, three 
 acres, all which were followed by wheat in their respec- 
 tive years. And the bean-straw of these several crops 
 was uniformly applied as fodder for the working horses. 
 
 As the early season at which beans are generally 
 sown, prevents the soil from being so well prepared as 
 for the later sown spring grains, in order to ascertain 
 how late they would admit of being sown, I drilled a 
 bushel so late as the 19th of April in 1792. The crop 
 was reaped on the 16th of October, and produced 
 twelve bushels two pecks ; but the grain was of an in- 
 ferior quality.
 
 AGUICULTUUE. 
 
 287 
 
 Wc ha-vc a species of pea in tli is county, which admits 
 of being sown so late as tlic month of May, and ripens 
 at the usual season. If a bean with the same pro- 
 perties could be procured, it would be a most desirable 
 acquisition ; as the land would be so completely pre- 
 pared before the time of sowini^, that with proper horse- 
 hoeing the bean fields would be as clean aiid tit for 
 wlicat as a complete summer fallow. 
 
 The procuring of a species of bean possessing such 
 qualities, would be an inquiry not unworthy of a Society 
 90 eminent for their patriotic exertions in the improve- 
 ment of the country." 
 
 Impressed with a sense of the advantages resulting 
 fi-om bean husbandry, when the land is properly drilled 
 and cleaned, and considering it as equally beuehcial upon 
 loams and clays with the husbandry of turnips upon 
 soft, dry, or kindly soils, the writer of this article has 
 persevered for many years in making beans a regular 
 article in his rotation of husbandry. In the course of 
 his practice, he has foimd them an excellent assistant to 
 fallow, and their culture a good preparation for wheat. 
 Several years ago, when that useful mslitution, the So- 
 ciety of Arts in London, offered a premium for the cul- 
 ture of beans, to be succeeded by wheat sown in the 
 same season, he appeared as a competitor for that pre- 
 mium, and it was decerned in his favour. The substance 
 of his competition essay, delivered to the secretary of 
 the Society, may, perhaps, not be unacceptable to the 
 readers of this work. 
 
 " I take the liberty of transmitting to you an account 
 of eighty-eight and a half acres of land drilled with beans 
 in the months of February and March 1798, among which 
 a few pease were mixed, in order to improve the straw 
 as fodder for horses, and for making ropes to tie the 
 crop. Tiie whole of the said lands was sown with wheat 
 in the month of October the same year. I shall shortly 
 state the mode of managing the beans, being ready to 
 give any further information that may be required. 
 
 The land was first cross-ploughed during the preced- 
 ing winter, and aI)out twenty acres were dunged previ- 
 ous t© this furrowing being given, and ten acres more in 
 the spring, when the beans were drilled. The quantity 
 of dung applied to the acre was about twelve cart-loads, 
 each drawn by two horses, the weight of which might 
 be about a ton. The land at seed time was clean plough- 
 ed over, and the drill-barrow followed every third plough, 
 which gave an interval between the rows of twenty-six 
 or twenty-seven inches. The quantity of seed sown was 
 from seventeen to nineteen pecks per acre, as those who 
 managed the drill sometimes from inattention allowed it 
 to sow a degree thicker atone time than another. The 
 kind of beans sown was the common horse bean, mixed, 
 as I have already said, with a trifling quantity of pease ; 
 and the average produce per acre of the whole fields 
 sown was nearly thirty-six bushels per acre, the produce 
 being altogether 5258 bushels, Winchester measure. 
 They were reaped from the first to the middle of Sep- 
 tember, and the straw was used for supporting the work- 
 ing-horses during the winter months. 
 
 It is now proper I should explain my method of clean- 
 ing or ploughing the land, when the crop was on the 
 ground, which was effected by a one-horse plough, with- 
 out any hand-hoe being used. I first harrowed it com- 
 pletely before the beans appeared above ground, and wa- 
 ter-furrowed and griped it. As soon as the beans would 
 stand the plough, a gentle furrow was given, and women 
 were employed to turn any of the earth from the plants 
 
 which might have been thrown upon tlicm. Every suc- 
 ceeding furrow was taken deeper, and the last was used 
 lor laying the earth up close to the plunt.s, which I con- 
 sider as of great importance. They were ploughed four 
 times: and 1 estimated llie whole expense of cleaning 
 them at four sliillings per acre, and that of drilling and 
 harrowing at one shilling and fourpence. In no other 
 way can the ground be cleaned at a less expense. 
 
 The soil upon which they were sown was a loam of 
 dift'erent varieties. I have lor many years practised this 
 mode of husbandry for raising beans, which have uni- 
 formly been succeeded by wheat, and shall be happy to 
 give you any information in my power respecting the 
 culture of them. This year I have 1 10 acres, all man- 
 aged in the way described. I enclose two certificates, 
 one of the measurement, and the other from two farmers 
 of character, that I had such fields in beans and wheat." 
 
 It need only be added, that since this communication 
 was made to the Society of Arts, various improvements 
 have. been introduced into this important branch of hus- 
 bandry, particularly in the culture given to the land be- 
 fore receiving the seed, as described in the account al- 
 ready given. Indeed, the bean system has now arrived 
 at a considerable degree of perfection ; though system 
 is of little importance, unless the processes which belong 
 to it are attentively executed. 
 
 Of Pease. 
 
 The culture of pease is now much out of use in va- 
 rious parts of Britain, being found unprofitable, and tend- 
 ing greatly to injure the ground by the quantity of an- 
 nual and perennial weeds which accompanied the crop, 
 or, more strictly speaking, which were allowed to grow 
 and come to perfection, from t'le nature of the cufturc 
 usually given to pease. Drilling has been resorted to 
 for the purpose of removing that defect, but seldom with 
 much advantage, as the plant dropt early down, and thus 
 prevents the necessary hoemg. Pease, however, are 
 partially sown with beans to great advantage ; and, when 
 cultivated in this way, the same system of preparation, 
 &c. described under the head of beans, is to be adopted. 
 Indeed, upon many soils not deep enough for beans, a 
 mixture of pease to the extent of one-third of the seed 
 sown, proves highly advantageous. The beans serve as 
 stabs or props to the pease, and the latter, being thus 
 kept off" the ground, and furnished with air, and other 
 atmospherical nutriment, blossom and pod with much 
 greater effect than when sown according to the broad- 
 cast system. 
 
 Pease agree well with lime and other calcareous sti- 
 mulants, and can hardly be reaped in perfection where 
 these are wanting. The varieties cidlivated are nume- 
 rous ; but those adapted to field culture may be divided 
 into two kinds, namely, early and late, though these 
 branch out again into several varieties. We have white 
 pease both early and late, and likewise gray pease, pos- 
 sessed of similar properties. The nomenclature is en- 
 tiixly arbitrary, and thei'efore not to be illustrated. Asa 
 general rule, the best seed-lime for late pease, is either 
 in February or March, though early ones, such as the 
 Hasting or Magbiehill pea, may be sown successfully 
 after the first of May. Pease ought to be sown tolera- 
 bly thick, so that the ground may be covered as early as 
 possible. Perhaps less than five bushels of firlots ought 
 not to be sown upon a Scotch acre, because the plants 
 never do much good till they begin to lock or twist to-
 
 288 
 
 AGKICULTURE. 
 
 together. IJi'oad-cast pcaic, however, arc now rarely 
 seen, except in upland districts, where soil and clnuatc 
 render beans unlit to be cultivated. One iurrow is ge- 
 nerally bestowed upon the crop ; and the seed sown is, 
 for the most part, one or other of the early varieties. 
 While, or boiling pease, are sown hi several of tUe Eng- 
 lish counties ; but as they do not come regularly unUer 
 the husbandman's notice, it is unnecessary to treat of 
 them in this article. 
 
 Both pease and beans are taken hi England after 
 grass ; but this system we must conUemn as a departure 
 from the pruiciple, which considers the alternate moac 
 of cropping as most wise and benehcial. Pcrnaps we 
 have too few of tne leguminous articles; none ot them, 
 Iherefoie, should be taken m succession. It grass is 
 broke up with oats, then pease and beans follow with 
 propriety ; but to take the latter in the first place, is 
 seituig system at defiance, and introducing confusion 
 into the after rotation. 
 
 Of Tares. 
 
 Tares, vetches, and Scotch gray pease, are all mem- 
 bers of the same family. Possessing similar properties, 
 and yielding similar nourishment, tuey are capable of 
 being used for the same purposes at clifi'erent seasons. 
 Taking tares to be the lather of the family, and esti- 
 mating it of vast advantage when used as an article 
 of green food, we shall restrict our observations to this 
 plant ; though each of them is equally applicable to 
 vetches, and those sorts of gray pease cultivated in 
 many districts for the use of the working stock, particu- 
 larly at that critical period, which ensues betwixt the 
 two crops of grass, when, if drought sets in, green food 
 cannot othen\ ise be procured. 
 
 The tare is a plant of a hardy growth, and, when 
 sown upon rich land, will return a large supply of green 
 fodder, for the consumption of horses, or tor fattening 
 cattle. When intended for this use, the seed ought to 
 be sown tolerably thick, perhaps to the extent of four 
 bushels per Scots acre, though, when intended to stand 
 for seed, a less quantity is required; because otherwise, 
 the thickness of the crop will prevent the plants from 
 blossoming and podding in a sufficient way. When 
 meant for seed, early sowhig ought to be studied, 
 otherwise the return will be imperfect; but when for 
 green food, any time betwixt the first of April and the 
 latter end of May will answer well, provided crops in 
 succession from the first to the last mentioned period 
 be regularly cultivated. Instances are not wanting of 
 a full crop being obtained even when the seed was 
 sown so late as the middle of June, though sowing so 
 late is a practice not to be recommendecl. After the 
 seed is sown, and the Iraid carefully harrowed, a light 
 roller ought to be drawn across, so that the surface 
 may be smoothed, and the sithe permitted to work 
 without interruption. It is proper also to guard the 
 field for several days against the depredations of pi- 
 geons, who are remarkably fond of tares, and will pick 
 up a great part of the seed, unless constantly watched. 
 
 Horses thrive very well upon tares, even better than 
 they do upon clover and rye-grass ; and the same re- 
 mark is applicable to fattening cattle, v/ho feed faster 
 upon this article of green fodder than upon any kind of 
 grass, or esculent, with which we are acquainted. 
 Danger often arises from their eating too many, espe- 
 cially when podded ; as colics, and other stomach dis- 
 
 orde-s, are apt to be produced by the excessive load.' 
 which they devour. Perhaps a great quantity of fixed 
 air is contained m this vegetable ; and as heavy crops 
 are rarely dry at the root wiien cut, it is not to be wou- 
 tleieil tha acciuents often happen when the animal isi 
 indulged witli the unrestraineti consumption ol them. 
 Were oat straw mixed witn the tares ui lUe racks or 
 stalls in wnicn they are aepositeu, it is proL)abie that 
 fewer accidents wouui follow, tnough tnis assistant is 
 only required wncn the tares are wet, lout, and over 
 succulent. Be this as it may, the utdity of tares is 
 abundantly eviuent ; because mey are furnished at a 
 lime wneii olten no other green tood can be obtained 
 It is only by using a large quantity of green food that a 
 sufficient stock of dung can be gathered, for cariying 
 Ibrward a profitable system ot management upon arable 
 land. With clover and rye-grass, tares, turnips, and 
 ruta baga, it is perlectly practicable to teed through the 
 whole Season ; thereby causing an arable farm to Teed a 
 great number of cattle, whilst the corn land is supported 
 and enriched by tiie offal or dung produced by these, 
 cattle. This is a subject, however, which falls more 
 particularly to be treated of in the succeeding Chapter; 
 we shall therefore reserve what we mean to say upon it, 
 till the Grass Husbandry comes under consideration. 
 
 Of Potatoes. 
 
 Potatoes, as an article of human food, are, next to 
 wheat, ol the greatest importance in the eye of a poli- 
 tical economist. From no other crop that can be culti- 
 vated will the public derive so much food as from this 
 valuable escuient ; and it admits of demonstration, that 
 an acre of potatoes will feed double the number of peo- 
 ple that can be fed from an acre of wheat. Potatoes are 
 also a nourishing and healthy food, relished almost by 
 every palate ; and without them it is believed there is 
 hardly a dinner served up for six months of the year, in 
 any part of the kmgdom. Notwithstanding all these 
 things, and they arc of great importance in one point of 
 view, we are doubtful whether potatoes can be placed so 
 high in the scale as sevei-al other articles of produce, 
 when the profit and loss account of the agriculturist is 
 to be ascertained. They require a great deal of manure 
 from the farmer, while, generally speaking, little is re- 
 turned by them ; they are a bulky unhandy article, trou- 
 blesome in the lifting and carrying processes, and inter- 
 fering with the seed season of wheat, the most important 
 one to the. farmer. After all, from particular circum- 
 stances, they cannot be vended unless when raised in the 
 vicinity of large towns ; hence they are in every respect 
 an unprofitable article to the agriculturist. To him the 
 real criterion is the profit which potatoes will return in 
 feeding beasts ; and here we apprehend, the result will 
 altogether be in favour of turnips, and ruta baga, as the 
 most profitable articles for that purpose. 
 
 But laying that criterion aside, and considering pota- 
 toes as an article useful to mankind, and consequently 
 beneficial in a public point of view, it is proper to illus- 
 trate the culture of this esculent in the various stages, 
 from preparing the ground, till the crop is digged up 
 and ready for market. The subject has been so amply 
 discussed in many recent publications, that it is unne- 
 cessary in this place to enlarge upon the several pro- 
 cesses. 
 
 rre/iaration of the ground. — To work the ground till 
 it is completely reduced and free from root-vvecds, may
 
 AGRICULTUUE. 
 
 289 
 
 t»e considered as a dcsidevatum in potatoe husbandry; 
 though in many seasons these operations cannot be per- 
 fectly executed, without losing the proper time for 
 planting, whicli never ouglit to be beyond the first of 
 May, if circumstances do not absolutely interdict it. 
 Three ploughings, with frequent harrowings and loll- 
 ings, arc necessary in most cases, before the land is in 
 suitable condition. When this is accomplished, foi'ni 
 the drills as if they were for turnips; cart out the ma- 
 nure, which ought not to be sparingly applied, plant the 
 seed above the manure, reverse the drills for covering 
 it and the seed, then harrow the drills in length, which 
 completes the preparation and seed process. 
 
 Quantity of seed. — It is not advantageous to cut the 
 sped into small slips ; for the strength of the stem at 
 the outset depends in direct proportion upon the vigour 
 and power of the seed-plant. The seed-plant, therefore, 
 ought to be large, rarely smaller than the fourth part of 
 the potatoe ; and if the seed is of small size, one half of 
 the potatoe may be profitably used. At all events, rather 
 err in giving over large seed than in making it too small ; 
 because by the first error, no great loss can ever be sus- 
 tained ; whereas, by the other, a feeble and late crop 
 may be the consequence. When the seed is properly 
 cut, it requires from ten to twelve hundred weight of 
 potatoes to plant a Scottish acre of ground, where the 
 rows are at 27 inches distance; but this quantity de- 
 pends greatly upon the size of the potatoes used ; if they 
 are large, a greater weight may be required, but the 
 extra quantity will be abundantly repaid by the supe- 
 riority of crop which large seed usually produces. 
 
 Of the kind of fiotatoes which can be most proftablij 
 cultivated The varieties of this excellent root culti- 
 vated in Britain are become so numerous, that it is im- 
 possible to treat of each, or even to give a list of their 
 names or particular properties. It is almost certain, 
 that a new variety may be propagated at any time, by 
 mixing contrary sorts in the same drill ; and if these are 
 allowed to come to maturity, a kind of connexion takes 
 place betwixt the blossoms of each, which produces a 
 jiew i-ace or variety. In this way, the numerous varie- 
 ties of the potatoe root now prevailing in Britain have 
 been procreated and introduced. The leading and pre- 
 vailing variety of field potatoes, is the yellow kidney, 
 which, though not the most prolific, is the most gene- 
 rally relished potatoe that is cultivated. The black po- 
 tatoe is the next favourite ; though it deserves to be re- 
 marked, that this kind being rarely taken up in a ripe 
 state, is not fit for use till the spring months, when it 
 gets a closeness of texture and mellowness, which it 
 does not possess at an earlier period. These two varie- 
 ties, therefore, serve every useful purpose; the yellow 
 kidney for winter use, and the black afterwards. It is 
 unnecessary, in a work of this kind, to enter upon the 
 early sorts of potatoes, because they are hardly known 
 in common husbandry. 
 
 What is called the yam, or Surinam potatoe, is of 
 more importance to the former, because with this vari- 
 ety he has an excellent assistant to his turnip crop, or 
 rather a succedaneum, which is of material benefit when 
 turnips are consumed. Perhaps this root may be culti- 
 vated with greater advantage than ruta bai^a upon many 
 soils, as the precariousness of ruta baga has been ac- 
 knowledged by almost every one who has treated upon 
 the subject. It requires soil of the best quality, and a 
 large dose of rich dung, to ensure eve;; n middling crop 
 ol ruta baga ; therefore it can never be generally nor 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 profitably cultivated by common farmers. We arc well 
 aware, that a root of the same size is nearly of one-third 
 more weight than one of turnips, and that, in point of 
 nourishment there is also a very considerable difference. 
 Still, after all, when we look abroad, and view the small 
 crops that are commonly raised, and take into account 
 the superior care bestowed upon this root, it must be 
 acknowledged, that necessity, not profit, is the impelling 
 cause of its culture. 
 
 On the other hand, yams present every advantage 
 which can be got from ruta baga, and are not so pettish 
 in their growth. Their cultui e is a matter of far less 
 difficulty, as such will grow upon soils where ruta baga 
 would starve. They require less manure, and may be 
 planted as late in the season as the other, thereby ena- 
 bling the farmer to bestow the like previous preparation 
 upon the ground, the want of which is a general argu- 
 ment against ordinary potatoe husbandry. By taking 
 them up in October or November, they may be safely 
 housed, and the ground directly ridged up and sown 
 with wheat. No doubt, ruta baga may be removed at 
 th.e same period ; but it often happens that the root has 
 not then reached maturity ; its growth being rarely im- 
 peded till frost sets in. 
 
 It is believed that very few crops of ruta baga, ex- 
 ceeding ten tons per Scottish acre, have been got in this 
 country, and that many do not exceed one-half of that 
 Weight ; while, on the other hand, we are pretty certain 
 that sixty bolls of yams, which amount exactly to twelve 
 tons, may be got, were such planted upon land similar 
 to what is usually assigned to ruta baga; and presume 
 that the nutritive substance contained in a ton of each, 
 is not materially different. Even under the supposition, 
 that fifty boHs, or ten tons only, were gained, still the 
 preference ought to be assigned to yams, on account of 
 the reasons already mentioned. 
 
 If potatoes are ever to be extensively introduced as 
 an article of fallow crop, it must be with a view of oc- 
 cupying the place of ruta baga, or as the means of car- 
 rying on live stock, after turnips are consumed, till the 
 grass season arrives. During the ordinary season of 
 winter feeding, neither potatoes nor ruta baga can be 
 furnished to stock on the same terms with turnips; 
 though, when turnips arc gone, the next best resource 
 must be sought after. This, in our opinion, can be 
 gained with more facility by raising yams, which, as al- 
 ready said, are not so shy in growing, do not require so 
 much manure, and thrive on soils where ruta baga 
 would not yield a root much exceeding a common sized 
 egg- 
 Though yams are not to be ranked in value with tur- 
 nips as an article of winter feeding, it deserves attention, 
 that they may be successfully cultivated on soils physi- 
 cally unfit for the former root. In fact, the greatest 
 crops of yams are procured from heavy lands ; the soft 
 kindly soils, generally considered most adapted to pota- 
 toe culture, being unfriendly to the growth, or rather to 
 the productiveness of the variety which we are recom- 
 mending 
 
 Cleaning of potatoes. After having detailed the me- 
 thod of cleaning beans so circumstantially, it appears 
 unnecessary to enter at much length upon what is re- 
 quired for potatoes, because one and all of the green 
 crops rcrjuire somewhat similar management, when cul- 
 tivated according to the drill system.— The onlv differ- 
 ence is, that hand-hoeing is necessary betwixt the plants ; 
 but in other respects every part of tJie cleaning process 
 O o
 
 290 
 
 AGRICULTURE, 
 
 may l)e most successfully executed by the horse-hoe. 
 Once for all, it may be remarked, that green crops of 
 every kind are greatly benefited by frequent hoeings, 
 and that their giowth, hi some measure, is regulated by 
 the extent of labour bestowed on them. V/heu treated 
 in a slovenly manner, or left to fight with weeds, or even 
 to encoimter a firm soil, the plants are deprived of nou- 
 rishment, and unable to procreate ilieir kind in due 
 abundance ; on the contrary, when the soil is sufficiently 
 stirred up, and kept free of weeds, nature will return a 
 crop in direct proportion to the quality of the soil, and 
 the quantity of manure bestowed upon it by the cultiva- 
 tor. Nature may be improved by art, but when her 
 bounties are neglected, and not improved, she generally 
 turns aside, and repays the contempt with interest. 
 
 Dhease which tiffccls potatoes. The disease which 
 peculiarly affects potatoes, is called the curl, the real 
 cause of which has not yet been, and probably never will 
 be, ascertained. It seems to be one ol these secrets of 
 nature kept from the knowledge of man ; and though 
 many plausible and ingenious theories have been ofi'ered 
 to the public concerning it, we are just as much in the 
 dark with respect to this abstruse subject, as when the 
 evil was first discovered. 
 
 Lancashire was the first district of the kingdom in 
 which potatoes were extensively cultivated; and it was 
 there that the curl first made its appearance, in 1778 ; 
 before which period it was altogether unknown. Tlie 
 disease, however, rapidly spread over all the low coun- 
 try, or earliest districts, and threatened to put an end 
 to the culture of a root confessedly of manifest utility in 
 supporting the inhabitants. Roused by such an evil, se- 
 veral societies offered premiums for discovering the 
 most proper meajis of averting the threatened danger; 
 and the pens of hundreds of agricultural theorists were 
 put in requisition, to ascertain the nature of the disease, 
 and the most efficient and salutary remedies for remov- 
 ing it. The nature or cause of the disease, as already 
 said, remains unknown; though it is sufficiently ascer- 
 tained, that, by procuring seed-plants from the upland 
 districts, the disorder may be averted for one season at 
 least. The theory which would seem to follow from 
 this result of practice is, that the curl is occasioned by 
 an over-ripeness of the plant, whereby its strength, or 
 procrealive power, is so much debilitated, as to render 
 it unable to bring forward a healtliy plant afterwards. 
 We by no means consider this theory as incontroverti- 
 ble, though undoubtedly it rests upon as strong a basis 
 as many others that have been offered. The fact is, as 
 we have stated, that seed from upland districts will not 
 curl in the first year, when planted in the low districts, 
 though the lowland seed, carried to the first-mentioned 
 districts, are affected as speedily with the disorder as if 
 they had been planted at home. When this baneful dis- 
 ease can be so easily prevented, it is very foolish to risk 
 suspected seed ; and the increased expense of purchas- 
 ing from the late districts is of small consequence, when 
 con>p;'red with the dane;er encountered by the use of 
 old seed. The benefit of such a change is, however, so 
 generally understood, that it is unnecessary to insist far- 
 ther upon it. 
 
 Method of taking u/i the croft, and storing it for con- 
 sumfition. — Potatoes are generally digged up with a 
 three-prong grape, or fork ; but at other times, when 
 the weatlier is dry, the plough is used, which is the 
 most expeditious implement. After gathering the in- 
 terval, the furrow taken by the plough is broken and 
 
 separated ; in which way the crop may be more com- 
 pletely gathered than when taken up by the grape. The 
 potatoes are then stored up for winter and spring use ; 
 and as it is of importance to keep them as long through 
 summer as possible, every endeavour ought to be made 
 to preserve them from frost, and from sprouting in the 
 spring months. The former is accomplished by cover- 
 ing them well with straw when lodged in a house, and 
 by a thick coat of earth, when deposited in a pit; and 
 the latter, by picking them carefully, at different times, 
 when they begin to sprout, drying them sufficiently by 
 exposure to the sun, or by a gentle toast on a kiln. Care- 
 ful people often preserve potatoes in perfection till the 
 succeeding crop is fit for use ; though it rarely happens 
 that they possess their original qualities after summer 
 comm.ences. 
 
 Of Turnifis. 
 
 The introduction of turnips into the husbandly of Bri- 
 tain, occasioned one of those revolutions in rural an 
 which are constantly occurring among husbandmen ; 
 and, though the revolution came on with slow and gra- 
 dual steps, yet it may now be viewed as completely and 
 thoroughly established. Before the introduction of this 
 root, it was impossible to cultivate light soils success- 
 fully, or to devise suitable rotations for cropping them 
 with advantage. It was likewise a difficult task to sup- 
 port live stock through the winter and spring months; 
 and as for feeding and preparing cattle and sheep for 
 market during these inclement seasons, the practice was 
 hardly thought of, and still more rarely attempted, unless 
 where a full stock of hay was provided, which only hap- 
 pened in a very few instances. The benefits derived 
 from turnip husbandi-y are, therefore, of great magni- 
 tude ; light soils are now cultivated with profit and fa- 
 cility; abundance of food is provided for man and beast; 
 the earth is turned to the uses for which it is physically 
 calculated ; and, by being suitably cleaned with this 
 preparatory crop, a bed is provided for grass seeds, 
 wherein they flourish and prosper with greater vigour 
 than after any other preparation. 
 
 Turnips are cultivated in two ways, viz. in the 
 broad-cast and drilled method. In the first way, we 
 view the benefit of this root as but partially and in- 
 completely gained ; for though a full crop may be ob- 
 tained, the ground cannot be cleaned sufficiently as 
 when the drill system is adopted. The great body of 
 cultivators being of this opinion, it is unnecessary to 
 discuss the merits of the two systems ; therefore we 
 shall proceed to detail the various processes which be- 
 long to the culture of this inestimable root, from the 
 preparatory process till the period when the crop is to 
 be used. 
 
 Preparation. — The first ploughing is given imme- 
 diately after harvest, or as soon as the wheat-seed is 
 finished, either in length or across the field, as circum- 
 stances may seem to require. In this state, the ground 
 remains till the oat-seed is finished, when a second 
 ploughing is given to it, usually in a contrary direc- 
 tion to the first. It is then repeatedly harrowed, of- 
 ten rolled between the harrowintjs, and every particle 
 of root weeds carefully picked off with the hand ; a third 
 ploughing is then bestowed, and the other operations 
 are repeated. In this stage, if the ground has not 
 been very foul, the seed process generally commences; 
 but often a fourth ploughing, sometimes a fifth, is ne- 
 cessary, before the ground is sufficiently cleaned. Less
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 291 
 
 liibour, however, is necessary now than in former times, 
 -when a more irregular modeof cropping was commonly 
 followed. 
 
 Manuring. — Turnip land cannot be made too rich, 
 for, in fact, the weight of the crop depends in a great 
 measure upon its condition in this respect. Manure is 
 sometimes applied to tlie crop which immediately pre- 
 cedes the turnips ; but, to answer well in tins way, the 
 land must naturally be of an excellent quality. In other 
 cases, where the land is in good order, it is laid on the 
 stubble previous to the first ploughing. But generally 
 the dung is laid on immediately before the seed is sown ; 
 the ground is formed into drills or ridges, and the ma- 
 nure spread in the intervals between them; the drills 
 are tlien split by the plough, the earth on each side 
 covers the dung, forms a drill where the interval for- 
 merly was, and furnishes a bed for the seed. These 
 operations are now so well understood, that it is unne- 
 cessary to describe them more particularly. 
 
 Solving. — The next part of the process is the sowing 
 of the seed; this, almost in every case since turnips 
 were introduced into Scotland, has been performed by 
 drilling machines, of different sizes and constructions, 
 though all acting on the same principles. At this 
 time, the fashionable machine is drawn by a horse in a 
 pair of shafts, sows two drills at a time, and answers ex- 
 tremely well, where the ground is fiat and the drills 
 properly made up. The weight of the machine ensures 
 a regularity of sowing hardly to be gained by those of a 
 different size and construction. From two to three 
 pounds of seed are sown upon the acre, though the 
 smallest of these quantities will give many more plants, 
 in ordinary seasons, than are necessary ; but, as the seed 
 is not an expensive article, the greater part of farmers 
 incline to sow thick, which both provides against the 
 danger of part of the seed perishing, and gives the 
 young plants an advantage at the outset. 
 
 Time of Sowing. — Tvunips are sown from the begin- 
 ning to the end of June ; but the second and third weeks 
 of the month are, by judicious farmers, accounted the 
 most proper time. Some people have sown as early as 
 May, and with advantage ; but these early fields are apt 
 to run to seed before winter, especially if tiie autumn 
 be favourable to vegetation. As a general rule, it may 
 be laid down, that the earliest sowing should be on the 
 latest soils ; plants on such soils are often long before 
 they make any great progress ; and in the end, may be 
 far behind those, in other situations, which were much 
 later sown. The turnip plant, indeed, does not thrive 
 rapidly till its roots reach the dung ; and the previous 
 nourishment afforded tiiem is often so scanty, as to stunt 
 them altogether before they get so far. 
 
 Cli-a7iing Process. — The first thing to be done in this 
 process is to run a horse-hoe, provincially called a scra- 
 per, along the intervals, keeping at such a distance from 
 the young plants that they shall not be injured ; this 
 operation destroys all the annual weeds which have 
 sprung up, and leaves the plants standing in regular 
 stripes or rows. The hand-hoeing then commences, 
 by which the turnips are all singled out, at a distance 
 of from eight to twelve inches, and the redundant ones 
 drawn into the spaces between the rows. The singling 
 out of the young plants is an operation of great impor- 
 tance, for an error committed in this process can hardly 
 be afterwards rectified. Boys and girls are always em- 
 ployed as hocrs ; but a steady and trusty man-servant is 
 
 usually set over thern, to see that the work be properly- 
 executed. 
 
 In eight or ten days, or such a length of time as cir- 
 cumstances may require, ahorse-lioe of a different con- 
 struction from the scraper is used. Tliis, in fact, is ge- 
 nerally a small plough, of the same kind with tliat com- 
 monly wrought, but of smaller dimensions. By mis im.- 
 plement, the earth is pared away from tlie sides oi the 
 drills, and a sort of new ridge formed in the middle 
 of the former interval. The hand-hoers are again set 
 to work, and every weed and supertluuus Lurnij) is cut 
 up; afterwards the horse-iioe is employed to separate 
 the earth, which it formerly threw into the furrows, 
 and lay it back to the sides of the drills. On dry 
 lands this is done by the scraper; but, where the least 
 tendency to moisture prevails, the small plough is used, 
 in order that the furrows may be perlectly cleaned 
 out. This latter mode, mdeed, is very generally prac- 
 tised. 
 
 Consumjition. — A great part of turnips are consumed 
 by sheep, because the feeding with these animals can bo 
 carried on upon a much larger scale, and at less expense, 
 than in most cases with cattle. It is customary, how- 
 ever, with many people, to consume their turnips both 
 ways; they draw a certain number of drills, generally 
 three or four in one place, and leave as many, or more, 
 to be eaten with the sheep ; by which method the whole 
 ground is equally benefited by the urine and dung of 
 the flock. Some farmers give tneir turnips to the win- 
 tering cattle, kept in the fold-yard upon straw, which 
 causes thtm to feed very rapidly, when put to the grass 
 in the succeeding season; others give them to young 
 stock, and probably with much advantage. Both these 
 last plans are eminently beneficial to such farmers as are 
 disabled, by local circumstances, from cultivating this 
 root extensively. 
 
 What is stated concerning turnips applies to the white 
 or common kind ; but there are other varieties of equal 
 importance to the farmei-, which ought not to be unno- 
 ticed. These are Yellow and Swedish turnips; articles 
 of emuient benefit to feeders in the latter end of sprmg, 
 when common turnips are useless. 
 
 Ytlloiv Turnili. 
 
 _ This variety, as now cultivated in the field, is quite 
 different from the yellow garden turnip, being larger in 
 size, containing more juice or nutritive substance, much 
 easier cultivated, and preserving its powers till the mid- 
 dle of May, when the grass-season may be expected. 
 Upon ordinary soils it is superior to ruta baga, because 
 it will grow to a considerable weight, where the other 
 would be stunted or starved ; and it stands the frost equal- 
 ly well. No farmer who keeps stock to any extent 
 should be without it. The mode of culture required is 
 in every respect similar to what is stated concerning 
 common turnips, with these exceptions, that earlier 
 sowing is necessary, and that the plants need not be set 
 out so wide, as they do not swell to such a size. 
 
 Ruta Baga., or Swedish Turnip. 
 
 This is another article of great importance to the far- 
 mer, affording green food of the choicest ouality, highly 
 relished by every kind of stock, and of ir.tompar-ble ad- 
 vantage in a late season, w'len either cattle or sheep are 
 O o2
 
 292 
 
 AGRICULTUUE. 
 
 to be carried on lor a. inurkcl, or till grass is furuislied. 
 Indeed to procure such anartxlc of green tood, where- 
 by stock could be supported between the turnip and 
 grass seasons, was long a desideratum with agricultu- 
 rists. But this desirable object has been completely 
 gained by the introduction of yellow turnips and ruia 
 l)aga, either being admirably calculated for filling up 
 that blank in the year which farmers looked to wuh so 
 much anxiety. The process of management is precise- 
 ly the same with that of turnips, with this addition, that 
 more dung is required, and that seed-time ought to be 
 three or four weeks earlier. Rich soil, however, is re- 
 quired for this article ; for it will not grow to any size 
 worthwhile on soils of middling quality, wnatever quan- 
 tity of dung may be applied. 
 
 Ruta baga is also ot grtal advantage in the feeding 
 of horses, either wiicn given raw or boiled, or with bro- 
 ken corn. If a sufficient quantity were cultivated, it is 
 plain that a great deal of grain might be saved, while 
 the health and condition ot tne worKing slock would 
 be invigorated and augmented. An evening leed of 
 this nutritious article would be of incalculable benefit; 
 even the most of horses are lond ot common turnip 
 in a raw state; and it is a subject well worthy of every 
 farmer's attention, whether it would not be for his in- 
 terest to raise these esculents in such a quantity as 
 to serve them during the long period when grass can- 
 not be obtained. That the health of the animals would 
 thereby be benefited is unquestionable ; and perhaps 
 the saving of grain would greatly exceed the trou- 
 ble occasioned by furnishing a daily supply of these 
 roots. 
 
 Every farmer who wishes to have any of the va- 
 rieties of turnip of a right kind, ought to -ave seed 
 for himself. It is unnecessary to expect pure seed 
 from the shops, unless an attention is bestowed in the 
 rearing and winning processes, exceeding what is usu- 
 ally given by those concerned in these processes. Hence 
 heavy losses are often sustained by cultivators who 
 trust to these agents ; and this has been the case par- 
 ticularly with ruta baga. A few years ago, this excel- 
 lent root was nearly given up by many farmers, because 
 a spurious seed was furnished by the shops. However, 
 by the attention of some respectable agriculturists, seed 
 of a better kind has again been obtained, which may 
 restore the credit of this valuable root. This credit, 
 however, is only to be preserved by a continuance of the 
 sedulity which caused its renovation ; or, in other words, 
 by keeping ruta baga at a distance from every other va- 
 riety of the turnip and cabbage tribes, when forming its 
 flowers, and procreating its successors. 
 
 We now come to another branch of this subject, not 
 of less importance in many districts than the raising of 
 the crop; and that is the way of preserving turnips 
 through the winter months, and having them at all times 
 at hand, and in condition for feeding cattle and sheep 
 even during the severest storms. With those who are 
 acquainted with, or pay attention to the variable cli- 
 mate of Britain, this part of our subject will appear in- 
 teresting, and of material consequence to the breeders 
 and feeders of live-stock. 
 
 In treating of this subject, we cannot do better than 
 submit to the consideration of our readers, one of the 
 Essays presented to the conductor of the Farmer's 
 Magazine, when a premium was offered by that re- 
 spectable agriculturist sir George Stuart Mackenzie 
 
 of Coul, Bart., for the best essay on storing turnips 
 for winter consunipiion. Though this essay, from 
 particular circumstances, did not gain the premium 
 offered, yet it contains an extent of valuable informa- 
 tion on the question agitated, highly interesting to 
 agriculturists, and particularly those placed in situa- 
 tions where the practice of storing is expedient and 
 necessary. 
 
 " The introduction of turnips into the regular rota- 
 tion of crops, is the most important improvement which 
 agriculture nus received in modern times. Previous to 
 that event, the live stock were maintained, during sum- 
 mer, on the nerbage which nature spontaneously produ- 
 ced on land exhausted by a previous succession of white 
 crops, and overrun with the accumulation of weeds for 
 ages ; during winter, on the straw and ehatf of the preced- 
 ing crop, with an occasional allowance of oats. Under that 
 s) stem, tiie lattcning season was confined within the 
 narrow limits ot the luxuriance of the natural grass : 
 no animal was fit for the shambles till tlie wane of sum- 
 mer ; and as soon as the pasturage began to decline in 
 autumn, the whole fattening stock was hurried indis- 
 criminately to tiiC market ; and their half-fed carcasses, 
 carefully salted, and frugally consumed, satisfied the 
 simple desires of our forefathers till the return of veal 
 and lamb in spring. The condition of the breeding 
 stock, on their winter fare, was tnily deplorable. It 
 the season was unusu.illy severe, or if the spring was 
 unfavourable to vegetation, vast numbers of cattle were 
 literally starved to death ; and those which survived, 
 had become so feeble and emaciated at the approach of 
 summer, as to require no small assistance to lift them, 
 set them on their legs, and support them to the nearest 
 field which happened, in the fashion of those days, to 
 be most grass-proud. 
 
 But, since the introduction of turnips, the grand de- 
 sideratum in the former practice of husbandry has been 
 supplied. From this improvement of their food, young 
 stock cont nue their giowth, and fat cattle are prepared 
 for the market during every season of the year. Tur- 
 nips succeed the decline of the grass, and afford succu- 
 lent and nutritious food till the return of summer. Our 
 farmers seem to brave the disadvantages of their nor- 
 thern situation ; to emulate, by their industry, the natu- 
 ral resources of happier climes ; and to compensate, by 
 the succulence of their turnip crops, the want of peren- 
 nial verdure on their fields. But turnips, though pos- 
 sessing this uivaluable excellence, are in some respects 
 a precarious crop. After escaping the ravages of the 
 fly and caterpillar, after arriving at their full size to- 
 wards the close of autumn, they are liable to be injured, 
 sometimes to be destroyed, by the severities of the en- 
 suing winter. Storing is said, by its advocates, to aflTord 
 complete security against these calamities. In the pre- 
 sent paper, I shall describe the most approved methods 
 of storing, and afterwards estimate the peculiar advan- 
 tages of that practice. 
 
 Though turnips have been cultivated in this country 
 to a considerable extent, for upwards of thirty years, 
 yet storing is a practice of a much later origin, and is 
 still circumscribed within narrow bounds. From the 
 first introduction of that vegetable, some intelligent 
 farmers regularly carried off the field, and laid up, under 
 cover, a quantity of turnips sufficient for two or three 
 weeks' consumption. That practice, affording provision 
 against the contingency of frost, has extended itself into 
 every district where the turnip husbandry is properly
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 29c 
 
 understood. But the plan of raising and storing the 
 whole crop, iniincdialely after harvest, seems to have 
 been adopted tirsi in the Upper Ward of Clydesdale, 
 and to have thence travelled slowly into the adjoining 
 counties. Even in the place of its origin, this practice 
 has met with opposition ; and in no other has it yet gained 
 a complete establishment. 
 
 There is considerable latitude in the season of storing. 
 In wet and clay soils, to avoid the inconveniences of 
 winter poaching, the ground must be cleared of the 
 turnips immediately after harvesting the potatoes ; but, 
 in other soils, they may be allowed, with advantage, to 
 remain on the ground some weeks later, as they continue 
 to swell till overtaken by frost. The ordinary time is 
 about the beginning of November. It is of considerable 
 importance to raise them on a dry day, that as little 
 earth as possible may adhere to their roots, and to se- 
 cure them in the store-heap as they are raised, as a 
 slight degree of frost is then found to be highly inju- 
 rious. As the month of November is proverbial for 
 gloom and rain, it may however, sometimes, be neces- 
 sary to raise them when the weather is wet, or when the 
 ground is moist; and, in this case, the following prac- 
 tical hint may be of advantage. Grasp the turnips by 
 the leaves, give them a smart turn about half round, 
 and then pull them upright from the groUnd. During 
 this operation, the bulbs revolve on the tap-root as on 
 an axis ; the rotatory motion breaks the lateral fibres, 
 and rubs off the adhering earth. It is obvious that this 
 method is much preferable to the common way of raising 
 a turnip clumsily in each hand, and of knocking their 
 bulbs together till the adhering earth fall off. 
 
 Experience has amply demonstrated the necessity of 
 cutting ofl' the leaves and tap-root (provincially called 
 topping and tailing), and ascertained the place where 
 those operations should be performed. The section 
 should be made close to the bulb. If the bulb itself be 
 wounded, rottenness is then apt to ensue, and, though 
 it should be prevented, a quantity of the juices oozes 
 out proportioned to the extent of the wound. The root 
 is disliked by all animals, as its acrid quality occasions 
 an immodei'ate discharge of bile, with its natural con- 
 sequences, gripes and looseness. When any part of 
 the leaves is left, turnips are liable to vegetate on receiv- 
 ing a slight degree of heat. And it is impossible, in 
 practice, always to hit the point of excellence, and to 
 perform the section with mathematical exactness, the 
 operators should be careful to err on the safe side, to 
 leave part of the leaves or root, rather than to injure 
 the bulb, as it is wiser to run the hazard of a slight ve- 
 getation than of entire putrefaction. 
 
 1. The earliest method of storing turnips, was to 
 secure them under roof, as it seemed but an extension 
 of a practice, previously common, of laying in, in fresh 
 weather, a quantity of turnips sufficient for the con- 
 sumpt of several weeks. The disadvantages of that 
 method soon became evident. It was necessary to pile 
 large quantities, to find house-room for the produce of 
 an inconsiderable field ; and turnips, in that situation, 
 spontaneously heated and putrefied. There is even 
 danger in housing small quantities. The heat commu- 
 nicated through a partition wall from the fire of an 
 adjoining apartment, and the breath of cattle, if they 
 have access to the store of turnips, are sufficient to 
 commence and to support a vigorous vegetation. The 
 sprouts exhaust the substance, and corrupt the juices 
 of those turnips from which they rise ; and, pushing up 
 
 between those turnips which arc laid uppermost, mois. 
 ten them with their succulent stems, exclude fresh air, 
 by filling up the interstices, and speedily reduce the 
 whole heap to a putrid mush. 
 
 2. It is well known, that by pitting potatoes in the 
 field, their flavour is better preserved, and their vege- 
 tation is longer prevented, than by storing them in the 
 house. From tne re.emljlance between them and tur- 
 nips, it has been analogically concluded, that the same 
 practice might advantageously be extended to the latter. 
 MrFindlater of Newlands, to whose depth of reasoning, 
 and accuracy of observation, his writhigs bear ample 
 testimony, is the only person we know, who has fairly 
 made Uie experiment, and candidly declared the result. 
 The situation which he chose was perfectly dry ; the 
 pit was about five feet in breadth, and three in depth i 
 the turnips were raised into a ridge of the usual form 
 above the mouth of the pit ; one end was filled with 
 common and the other with Swedish turnips ; the pit 
 was finally secured with a thick cover of straw and 
 earth. A few weeks after Hallowday, when the turnips 
 were stored, the middle of the ridge began to subside ; 
 the depression continually increased, and soon became 
 so great as to create apprehensions for the safety of the 
 contents : the pit was opened in the beginning of Febru- 
 ary, and it was found that almost the whole of the com- 
 mon turnips were destroyed, and that about one half of 
 the Swedish only were preserved. A Roxburghshire 
 correspondent, in the Nineteenth Number of the Far- 
 mer's Magazine, mentions, that turnips may be preser- 
 ved in the field, as well as in the house, if three or four 
 cart-loads only are laid together, and afterwards covered 
 with a layer of earth, or of straw and earth. This mode 
 of pitting has been carried to a much greater extent, 
 and employed for the preservation of his whole crop, by 
 Mr Aitken of CuUands, in the parish of Newlands. The 
 depot is placed on a level with the surface of the ground ; 
 its dimensions are rather smaller than those of the com- 
 mon practice, afterwards to be described ; and their 
 cover consists of successive layers of straw, earth, and 
 straw. In a late conversation which we had with Mr 
 Aitken junior on this subject, we found that this mode, 
 though affording complete security to the turnips, pos- 
 sessed no advantage over the common practice, in pre- 
 serving their succulence, or in retarding their vegeta- 
 tion at the approach of spring. 
 
 3. From those experiments, this conclusion results, 
 that turnips, to be preserved, during winter, from run- 
 ning into the extremes of vegetation or putrefaction, 
 require a considerable exposure to the air. On this 
 principle is founded the present common practice of 
 placing the depot in a well-aired situation, adjoining to 
 the feeding byre, and of protecting it with nothing but 
 a covering of straw. The store-heaps, for convenicncy, 
 are commonly placed in the barn-yard. The turnips are 
 laid down, cart thick, in the form of a narrow tapering 
 ridge ; the breadth is about five feet, the height is about 
 four, and the length is perfectly immaterial ; the depot 
 is covered with a thick thatch of straw, and this thatch 
 is finally secured with ropes. Common turnips stored 
 in this manner, are kept in good preservation till the 
 middle of April. Some intelligent farmers have begun 
 to make alterations, and, it is asserted, improvements, 
 on this practice. They pay more attention to the dry- 
 ness of the situation, than to its nearness to the feeding 
 byre, in choosing a spot for the depot ; bed the bottom 
 well with straw ; erect a three-bar paling, or place sheep
 
 294 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 flakes all aroiuul, iuclining outwards, that the watei--drop 
 may be set off; raise the top of the heap as high as the 
 turnips will lie, and thatch the whole with straw in the 
 visual nianncr. In this case tlic auglc at the top is acute, 
 as the turnips can easily be iiiled up considerably above 
 what is called the si/uare ol a house roof. The depot 
 is about seven or eight feet in breadth at the base, and 
 may safely be continued to any length required for hold- 
 ing the whole. In recommendation of this plan, there 
 is a probability that turnips are better preserved, and a 
 certaiiUy that less straw is required for thatch, in it, than 
 in the common practice. 
 
 With regard to Swedish turnips, the same principles 
 are applicable to them, and they are stored in a similar 
 manner. From their superiority in hardness, they admit 
 of considerable latitude in the season of storing, and in 
 the dimensions of the store-heap. Under this treatment 
 they are easily preserved incorruptible for a great length 
 of time. 
 
 4. The only deviation, on principle, from the common 
 method of storing Swedish turnips, took place last win- 
 ter at Scotstowu. Captain Mackay, who combines, in 
 an uncommon degree, an extensive knowledge of agri- 
 culture, with an accurate superintendence, and, conse- 
 quently, a successful management of his farm, aware 
 that Swedish turnips, on the ground, are indestructible 
 by our severest frosts, and that they, in common with 
 every other species, require in the store-heap a conside- 
 rable exposure to the air, resolved to try how far this 
 principle extended ; and, for this purpose, formed of 
 them a depot of the ordinary dimensions, in a dry, well- 
 aired corner of his barn-yard, without any covering, but 
 branches of spruce fir, to protect them from the depre- 
 dations of poultry. The turnips were stored in the 
 beginning of January. Towards the end of March, about 
 one half had been taken away for the feeding cattle. 
 Excepting those in the centre and bottom of the heap, 
 none were at that time in good preservation. The ap- 
 pearance of those on the outside seemed to be an ex- 
 emplification of the law of putrefaction in vegetables 
 of a firm texture ; those parts of the bulbs which formed 
 the interstices were perfectly safe, while the points of 
 contact, similar to the joints in carpentry, discovered 
 evident signs of incipient putrefaction. From the fail- 
 ure of this experiment, it may be concluded, that Swe- 
 dish, as well as common turnips, become more delicate 
 on being raised from the ground, and require a layer of 
 thatch to protect them from the inclemencies of the 
 weather. 
 
 The advantages which attend the storing of turnips 
 may now be described. 
 
 1. Storing' as a necurity against frost. — That turnips 
 are overtaken by frost, and congealed into a lump of 
 ice, during winter and spring, is a frequent occurrence. 
 It is well known that cattle, with no other food but 
 frozen turnips, are in great danger of falling off, instead 
 of improving. They are difficulted to make an impres- 
 sion with their teeth ; and no sooner have they swallowed 
 a mouthful, than they discover symptoms of universal 
 uneasiness, raise their backs, draw in their feet, and fall 
 a-trcmbling as if seized with the cold fit of an ague. It 
 is universally admitted, that the storing system affords 
 complete security against those evils : but it is equally 
 certain, that the same advantage is attained, in many 
 situations, without storing, and without any great degree 
 of foresight or management. 
 
 In the beginning of winter, turnips are not affected by 
 
 a slighi degree of frost. Before It produces on them 
 any sensible effect, the cold must be so intense as to 
 form, on water, a pretty thick film of ice. The cause 
 of this IS obvious. By the close of autumn, if the tur- 
 nips have been properly set out by hand-hoeing, their 
 leaves must form a close mantle over the whole field ; 
 and this natural covering protects the bulbs from the 
 first attacks of frost. From this circvunstance it follows, 
 that the most improvident farmer, whose cattle arc only 
 supplied day by day from the field, will sustain little da- 
 mage from the transient frosts which usually precede 
 Christmas. After that time, he will be compelled to 
 adopt the precautions employed by his wiser neighbours, 
 of laying in, during fiesh weather, a quantity of tur- 
 nips that will supply his consumption for two or three 
 weeks. It is seldom that our frosts outlast that period. 
 If they should coutiime longer, and if the stock of tur- 
 nips is exhausted, it will be necessary to adopt a prac- 
 tice, often successfully tried in Tweeddale, and almost 
 universal in the more southern counties, of raising them ' 
 frozen as they are in the ground, and of thawing tlieni 
 m a running stream, or in a drinking pool. The turnips 
 are raised with an instrument forined for the purpose, a 
 fork with two prongs, slightly curved inwards, and set 
 perpendicular to the handle. Towards evening, they 
 are carted from the field, and emptied into the pool. The 
 common piactice is to leave them under water till next 
 morning ; but an immersion for two hours is found suffi- 
 cient. When taken out, they are as fresh and sound as 
 if they had never been frozen. 
 
 From the preceding statement, it may be concluded, 
 that, in the most fertile districts of Scotland, where the 
 climate is more genial, and the weather more uniform, 
 the storing system possesses little essential advantage, 
 in point of security against frost, over the practice of 
 leaving turnips on the ground. A little foresight will, 
 in most cases, supersede the necessity of raising them 
 in a frozen state, and, even then, immersion in water is 
 an easy and effectual remedy. It is impossible, however, 
 to adopt this practice, probably, in the Highlands of 
 Scotland, and in many districts of the southern coun- 
 ties. The frosts there set in early, are severe, and last- 
 ing. During the whole winter, there are almost con- 
 tinued storms of frost and snow, which must prevent 
 turnips from being regularly carried off the field to the 
 bestial. It is found that turnips, piled together in a 
 house, begin to decay after three weeks ; and therefore, 
 a stock of turnips, equal to the consimipt of that period, 
 is the utmost that a farmer can provide against the con- 
 tingency of frost. If the frost outlast that time, (which 
 is not an uncommon event,) recourse must be had to tur- 
 nips on the ground ; but it is very difficult to raise them 
 during intense frost, such as often occurs in winter, in 
 elevated districts. A turnip, thoroughly congealed, 
 when struck with an iron tool, will fly into splinters. A 
 pick-ax is necessary to raise it from the ground, and, 
 even with it, great care is required to raise the turnip 
 whole. We have been informed, that a farmer, in an 
 elevated district of Tweeddale, being under the necessity 
 of recurring to his turnip field during an intense frost, 
 found as much difficulty in raisijig the produce of a few 
 yards, as he would have had in storing his whole crop 
 at the proper season. It may thence be concluded, that, 
 though the storing system is not so necessary in low- 
 lying districts, as a security against frost, it is eminently 
 advantageous in more elevated and exposed situations, 
 by rendering tlic farmer independent of the severities of
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 295 
 
 the weather, by enabling him at all times to supply his 
 cattle witli sound ami uutiitive food. 
 
 2. ^torinff a« a /tnvintivf of /iiilrc/aclion. — Tuniips, 
 left on the groiuid, arc liable not only to be congealed 
 into a lump of ice, but also to be reduced into a putrid 
 mash by ibe inclemencies of tlie weatber. The prac- 
 tice of storing, since it has been rightly understood, 
 prevents any loss from putrefaction : it has tlience been 
 concluded, tliat this circumstance is a decided advan- 
 tage in favour of that system. On cxamhiing the mat- 
 ter more closely, and contrasting the loss on the ground 
 with the loss in tlie process of storing, there will appear 
 abundant reason to modify, perhaps to reject, this con- 
 clusion. 
 
 It is imposslljle to form a general estimate of the quan- 
 tity of turnips annually destroyed. The loss is so vari- 
 able, being affected considerably by the soil and expo- 
 sure of the field, though regulated principally by the 
 climate and the season, as to defy the most sanguine 
 calculator. It is even difticult to approximate to the 
 truth ; as the opinions of farmers, on this subject, from 
 the diffirence of their circumstances, are vague and 
 contradictory. A member of the Eddlestone Club has 
 declared, that, in two years out of three, all our turnips 
 on the ground at Christmas are entirely lost by the 
 frost. Having unbounded confidence in the veracity of 
 this declaration, we readily acquit him of all intention to 
 mislead : but, as his statement is quite different from 
 the general sentiment of his neighbours, we are inclined 
 to suspect a mistake of the pen, or a slip of the memory. 
 An intelligent farmer has assured me, that the annual 
 loss which he sustains is seldom considerable ; and that 
 the whole quantity destroyed in the course of eight or 
 ten years will not amount to the produce of an ordinary 
 crop. VVc have been also informed by the Rev. Mr 
 Robertson of Eddlestone, who has the merit of founding 
 the Farmer's Club, which bears the name of his parish, 
 and who has cultivated turnips to a considerable extent 
 for nearly 30 years, that he has lost only two crops in 
 that period ; and that the loss, in both cases, took place 
 in spring. From my own observation, I am convinced 
 that the loss is not so great, and so early, as has been 
 stated. It consists with the experience of every farmer, 
 that turnips suffer little or no injury till the approach of 
 spring. We are convinced that we do not underrate the 
 effects of the weather, when we state, that, on an ave- 
 rage of years, even in an elevated district, one-third of 
 the turnips on the ground at Candlemas only is destroy- 
 ed by frost. It is presumed, that two-thirds of the crop 
 are consumed during the three months of winter, and 
 without any material loss. The third, which remains on 
 the ground till spring, is the only part which suffers ; 
 consequently the annual loss, at an average, may be stat- 
 ed at one-third of one-third, or at one-ninth of the whole 
 crop. 
 
 There is every probability that a considerable loss is 
 sustained by the practice of storing. After lying some 
 time in the store-heap, turnips show evident indications 
 of decay. To the eye they seem shrivelled ; to the 
 hand they feel lighter. It is the common sentiment of 
 all who have tried the experiment, that turnips in a 
 store-heap lose one-third of their weight, before spring 
 — a loss equal to what may be estimated as sustained by 
 turnips when left in the field. Besides this inevitable, 
 there is another probable, disadvantage attendant upon 
 storing. The turnips must be carried off the field soon 
 after, commonly imnaediately after harvesting the pota- 
 
 toes ; their further growth is prevented : whereas, had 
 they been left on the ground, tiicy would certainly have 
 iricreased in size, probably matured and improved their 
 juices, till interrupted by the severity of winter. liut, 
 perhaps, the strongest objection to .the storing system 
 is the circumstance, that turnips, however carefully 
 stored, are less jialatable to cattle, than when taken fresh 
 from the ground. That this inferiority is real, and con- 
 siderable, was satisfactorily evinced by an experiment 
 made in presence of the Eddlestone Farmer's Club, at 
 their meeting in the first week of March last. They 
 produced two turnips, the one from a sound store-heap, 
 and the other fresh from the field. Several cows were 
 turned out successively to prove them, and all, after 
 smelling at both, began to eat the turnip from the field 
 till it was finished, the other not being touched. This 
 inferiority cannot be referred to a dimhiution of succu- 
 lence, (for it was discovered by the sense of smelling,) 
 but to a putrescent flavour, arishig probably from the 
 operations of to/i/iing- and railing. Though the leaves 
 and tap-root were cut off with mathematical precision, 
 still two considerable wounds must be made on each 
 turnip. Tlie juices ooze out at those wounded parts ; 
 and fluids, when partly oxtravasatcd, (if we may adopt 
 medical language,) lose their vitality, and run into putre- 
 faction. A putrid crust is thus formed on the surface of 
 each wound, and must be eaten by cattle before they ar- 
 rive at the sound interior. Of the nature of tliis injury, 
 some conception may be formed by those persons, w ho, 
 from the carelessness of their cooki have accidentally 
 seen, or tasted, a potatoe that had been wounded in the 
 process of harvesting. 
 
 From these observations it is reasonable to conclude, 
 in general, that the severities of the weather occasion 
 less loss than the practice of storing. In favour of the 
 latter, however, there is this great advantage, that the 
 loss is always uniform, and can be foreseen, and provided 
 for; while, in regard to the former, the loss is perfectly 
 uncertain, being regulated by causes which we cannot 
 anticipate, and over which we have no control. This 
 circumstance is often very embarrassing to farmers in 
 exposed situations. In some years, if the weather be 
 favourable, the whole crop may escape unhurt by frost ; 
 and there may be a superabundance in spring, with no 
 adequate stock of cattle to consume it. On the contrary, 
 if the weather be very severe, almost the whole turnips, 
 intended for spring food, are destroyed, and the farmer 
 will find great difficulty, as well as sustain considerable 
 loss, in disposing of his cattle, before they are fully 
 fattened. It may therefore be imagined, tliat, in exposed 
 situations, the practice of storing is advisable to a cer- 
 tain extent, say one-third of the crop, that there may be 
 always a certain supply for sprhig consumpt; but a prac- 
 tice has been introduced, which promises to render even 
 that extent of storing unnecessary, of earthing up the 
 turnips in the drills, w ith a double mould-board plough, 
 at the end of autumn. 
 
 The cause of putrefaction docs not seem to be pre- 
 cisely understood. It certainly is not the frost per se. 
 Turnips, congealed into a lump of ice, are perfectly 
 fresh after being thawed in water. In the beginning of 
 winter, they are scarcely affected by a black frost, though 
 very severe; and even when the season is further ad- 
 vanced, they remain safe during every degree of frost, if 
 the ground is covered with snow. It has also been ob- 
 served, that a turnip field, with a northern exposure, in 
 all cases ■sustains less injury than a fiekl with any other
 
 i96 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 aspect. Prom these facts, it may be inferred, that the 
 sun acts a part in the destruction of turnips, and thai his 
 influence is injurious, by producing a sudden transition 
 from cold to heat. Turnips, in the beginnuig ot wmter, 
 suffer little during black frost, because their leaves, tlien 
 succulent and expanded, intercept completely the rays 
 of the sun ; and at the approach oi spring, the same 
 event happens, though the leaves are destroyed, if snow 
 afford a covering to the bulbs in their stead. But if a 
 black frost occur at that season, turnips suffer an irrepa- 
 rable injury. They freeze every night ; the sun, then 
 pretty high and powerful, thaws them every day. In 
 the morning there is a rapid transition from cold to heat ; 
 and in the evening there is a similar transition from heat 
 to cold. It is well known, that a turnip, when wounded, 
 speedily decays : probably those frequent vicissitudes of 
 heat and cold, by producing sudden alternations of ex- 
 pansion and contraction in turnips, destroy their texture, 
 reduce them to the state of dead matter, and subject 
 Uiem to the general law of putrefaction. 
 
 From this explanation, it will easily be discovered, in 
 what respect earthing-up is beneficial to turnips. In 
 spring frosts, it shields them from the burning rays of 
 the sun, supplying the place of their natural covering of 
 leaves, or of the accidental protection of snow. A spi- 
 rited farmer, in an elevated district of Clydesdale, has 
 carried successfully this principle to its utmost extent, 
 by ploughing-under, and whelming, in the "bottom of the 
 furrow, that part of his turnips intended for spring con- 
 sumption. It is believed that the thick incumbent fur- 
 row-slice, and the reversed position of the turnips, con- 
 siderably retard vegetation at the approach of spring : 
 but this advantage, if it really exist, is certainly coun- 
 terbalanced by the difficulty of raising them from so 
 great a depth. Even earthing up is sometimes produc- 
 tive of inconvenience in this respect. If the frost be 
 severe, it becomes laborious to raise them with a pick- 
 ax ; if the ground be wet, it is difficult to free them 
 from the adhering earth. It seems necessary, there- 
 fore, (to supersede, entirely, not only the necessity, but 
 also the convenience, of the storing system,) that a spe- 
 cies of turnip were discovered possessing a degree of 
 hardiness sufficient to resist every inclemency of our 
 northern climate, and every vicissitude of our variable 
 weather. In the sequel, some reasons will be produced 
 to show that this discovery is now made. 
 
 3. Storing-, as admitting the culture of the more valua- 
 ble s/iecies of turnifis. — Before the introduction of the 
 storing system, its advocates argue, farmers v,ere obli- 
 ged, in exposed situations, to cultivate not the most 
 valuable, but the most hardy species of turnips. The 
 yellow garden variety was found to possess this property, 
 and, notwithstanding the smallness of its size, was cul- 
 tivated to a considerable extent, to secure a certainty of 
 spring food. But, under the system of storing, while 
 this advantage is obtained in its full extent, the greatest 
 latitude of selection is admitted, either as to the greater 
 size of the turnips, or as to their greater palatableness 
 to cattle. This argument seemed conclusive. The 
 yellow garden species was laid aside, and the common 
 white, which is much more valuable, was substituted in 
 its stead. From recent discoveries it seems probable, 
 however, that the storing system is unnecessary to the 
 successful culture of the more valuable varieties. The 
 piic^judice in favour of the delicate and eye-pleasing 
 bulk of common turnips, is on the decline. Experience 
 
 has shown, that the eye is not the best judge, and 
 that bulk is not the surest criterion of excellence in 
 turnips. Facts arc rapidly accumulating to encourage 
 a belief, that a species is discovered, liaiiiy, yet valuable, 
 equal to the conmion in size, and superior to it in nutri- 
 nient. 
 
 The first improvement on the old species, was the in- 
 troduction of the Sweaish turnip, aOoul twelve years 
 ago. lis culture soon became frequent, from the notice 
 taken of it, and the recommtudaiions bestowed on it, in 
 the Bee, a periodical miscellany, taen published in Edin- 
 burgh, by Dr Anderson, most meritorious in its design, 
 and very extensive in its circulaf.on. In the contermin- 
 ous parts ot Clydesdale and Tweeddale, where it has 
 been cultivated for a number of years, its habits and its 
 excellencies are well ascertained. Its superiority in 
 feeding, its vigorous resistance to every inclemency of 
 the weather, and its obstinate retention of succulence 
 after vegetation commences in spring, entitle it indispu- 
 tably to rank as the farmer's latest spring food ; while 
 its affection for a soil rich by nature, or enriched by 
 manure ; its inferiority as a fallow crop, from requiring 
 to be early sown, and from covering imperfectly the 
 ground witii its leaves ; its deficiency of pioduce, even 
 after making every allowance for the richness of its 
 juices, and the density of its texture ; render it an object 
 not so much of choice, as of necessity, and limit its cul- 
 ture to the extent of a succedaneum, when every other 
 species is shrivelled or putrefied. It is possible to pre- 
 serve common turnips, in tolerable condition, till the 
 :niddle of April : but, as they lose greatly when the 
 season is so far advanced, and as they are preserved with 
 difficulty if the weather be genial, it may be more ad- 
 visable to have all of them consumed a month earlier, 
 and to raise of Swedish turnips as many as shall be re- 
 quired to supply the consumpt from the middle of March, 
 till the end of spring. In exposed situations they may 
 advantageously be cultivated to the further extent of 
 affording partial aid to milch cows in the beginning of 
 May, as the pasturage is then seldom forward enougli to 
 supply them with succulent food. When preserved to 
 very late, even Swedish turnips are apt to decay, and, in 
 consequence, to communicate a disagreeable flavour to 
 milk and butter, unless they are topped and tailed when 
 raised from the field, and immediately housed in a cool 
 situation. 
 
 Another species has lately been introduced, which 
 promises to be of incalculable advantage, as they seem 
 to possess, in an eminent degree, the characteristic ex- 
 cellencies of the common and Swedish turnips. They 
 resemble the yellow garden variety in colour, and, as 
 already stated, are superior to ruta baga, because, with 
 equal properties they may be raised on inferior soil, and 
 at the expense of less dung than is required for that va- 
 luable esculent. This species has of late been cultivated 
 extensively in many counties, and promises to be of im- 
 portant advantage in every one of them, where physical 
 circumstances are unfavourable to the culture of ruta 
 baga. Perhaps, in a genei-al point of view, storing is 
 not required either for ruta baga or yellow turnips, be- 
 cause, under a suitable arrangement, neither of these 
 esculents should be used till after the first of April, when 
 the inconvenience of carting from the field, and danger 
 from frost, is little to be dreaded. The greatest injury 
 which both ruta baga and yellow turnips are exposed to 
 m the winter months, is from the depredations of hares.
 
 AGUICULTURK. 
 
 297 
 
 who are uncommonly fond of them as food, and will not 
 taste the common white turnip where others can be pro- 
 cured. Storing is, no doubt, a complete preventive 
 against their attacks; but, unless a removal is made 
 solely with a view of sowhig wheat in November, we 
 cannot reconmiend, that cither ruta baga or yellow tur- 
 nips should be stored. With regard to white turnips, a 
 very difterent opinion must be given, the general seve- 
 rity of winter in North Britain, and the uUcr impractica- 
 bility of providing a regular supply of this esculent to 
 winter stock in every high district, rendering it prudent 
 and expedient to keep a dcjiot at home for supply, even 
 in every season. 
 
 4. Storing, as admitting the introiluctioii of wheat on a 
 turniji fallow. — From the preceding observations, it 
 seems evident, that the storing of turnips is necessary 
 only in exposed and elevated districts, to attain security 
 against the inclemencies of the weather; and that, in 
 every more favoured situation, it is directly injurious, 
 from requiring turnips to be raised from the ground be- 
 fore they have attained their full growth ; from the eva- 
 poration of their juices while they lie in the store-heap ; 
 and from their acciuiring a putrescent flavour, and be- 
 coming unpalatable to cattle. Even in the latter, how- 
 ever, that system is attended with one advantage, which 
 more than compensates its numerous evils, — the facility 
 with which it enables the farmer to introduce wheat on 
 a turnip fallow. 
 
 There can be no doubt, that a turnip fallow, in most 
 cases, is a sufficient preparation for wheat. A bare 
 fallow seems indispensably necessary only on wet and 
 stubborn clays: but this is a species of soil most unfa- 
 vourable to the culture of turnips. If they are forced 
 to grow in such a situation, they cannot serve as a sub- 
 stitute for sutnmer-fallow ; and the storing system must 
 be recurred to intmcdiately after harvest, not to make 
 way for sowing wheat, but because it is impossible, in 
 our moist climate, to carry oft" turnips from such lands 
 during winter. But on a dry soil, of every species froni 
 a light sand to a rich loam, which turnips chiefly affect, 
 every advantage of a summer-fallow is obtained by 
 cropping with turnips : The frequent ploughings before 
 the seed process, and the various hoeings, after the plants 
 appear above ground, till they cover it with their leaves, 
 effectually pulverize the soil, and clear it of weeds. On 
 light lands of this description, if wheat is intended to 
 follow turnips, it may be sown at an early, and at its pro- 
 per season. If the process of storing commence im- 
 mediately after harvesting the potatoes, the ground may 
 be cleared to receive the wheat in the beginning of 
 November. When it is wished, however, to obtain the 
 full benefit of the turnip crop, it will be necessary to 
 delay storing some time longer, till the bulbs arrive at 
 their full size : Yet, even in this case, it will be easy to 
 put the ground in order during the course of winter, 
 and to embrace the most favourable season of sowing it 
 with spring wheat. It is obvious that, if storing be 
 omitted, wheat after turnips is a precarious crop. If 
 the ground is only cleared, as turnips are required for 
 the consumpt of cattle, they must be regularly carried 
 off during the whole of winter, and the beginning of 
 spring. The carriage of such a bulky crop, in our 
 moist climate, and during our wettest season, inevitably 
 occasions a degree of poaching on almost every soil, 
 and greatly retards the operr tlons of ploughing, sowing, 
 and harrowing, ui spring. Unless the weainer be very 
 favourable, the season is too late for sowing wheat ; and 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 it is considered as r.iorc advuntaijtous, in general, to in- 
 troduce barley or oats after a turnip fallow. The stor- 
 ing system, therefore, is advanlngeoiis in the exact pro- 
 portion that a crop of wheat is superior to a crop of bar- 
 ley ; and this profit must greatly overbalance the various 
 losses which turnips sustain in that process. 
 
 The result of the preceding observations is, that the 
 storing of turnips, abstractedly considered, is attended 
 with direct and unavoidable loss ; but, when viewed in 
 reference to the climate and agriculture of Scotland, is 
 necessary in unfavoinable situations, and eventually ad- 
 vantageous in every other ; — necessary in high lands, 
 where the severities of winter prevent turnips from be- 
 ing regularly carried off the ground to supply the con- 
 sumpt of cattle ; and advantageous, in low lands, by 
 enabling the farmer to introduce wheat after turnips, 
 where he coidd otherwise obtain only a crop of oats or 
 barley. 
 
 On Cabbages, 
 
 Though we have advocated the cause of turnips with 
 a degree of keenness adequate to the merits of the se- 
 veral varieties of which the family is composed, yet it 
 is out of our power to bestow the like support upon cab- 
 bage culture, because we view it as much more hazard- 
 ovis, far less profitable, and attended with infinitely more 
 trouble than that ot turnips, while the advantages to be 
 derived from them are not, in our opinion, of a descrip- 
 tion to compensate the extra hazard and trouble thereby 
 incurred. Cabbages have always been a rare article 
 with the farmer, and it is to be hoped they will long con- 
 tinue to be so. Scarcely any plant requires more ma- 
 nure ; and none will scourge the ground more effec- 
 tually. Not wishing, therefore, to encourage the cul- 
 tivation of cabbages, except in gardens, we shall dis- 
 miss the subject without any further investigation. 
 
 Oji Carrots. 
 
 We cannot say much more in favour of the carrot, 
 than we have done of the cabbage husbandry. In fact, 
 both are troublesome articles, and not to be thought of 
 by actual farmers, who must remember term-time ; 
 though both may be highly amusing and interesting to 
 gentlemen who have no rent to pay, and whose welfare 
 depends little upon the profit or loss arising from the 
 mode of cropping exercised, or the value of the crops 
 obtained. To this class of agriculturists wc may say, 
 that carrots require a rich and soft soil; that deep 
 ploughing ought to be given to the ground before the 
 seeds are sown, and that they ought to be drilled and 
 carefully hoed. * 
 
 On Liccern, Burnet, and St Foin. 
 
 These green crops have often been greatly extolled ; 
 but the small progress hitherto made in their cultivation, 
 abundantly justifies the conclusion meant to be drawn, 
 viz. that the climate of the British isles is unfriendly to 
 their growth. In fact, with none of them will the like 
 weight of crop be obtained as with good clover and rye- 
 grass ; and, this being the case, it need not excite won- 
 der that agriculturists should continue to use the plants 
 which yield them the most bountiful return, and avoid 
 exotics not suited to our climate. 
 Pp
 
 298 
 
 AGRlCULTLlti:. 
 
 Tlif iincicnt Roman wiitcis Kpcakruiicli in commen- 
 dation of luccrn, by them called Mcdica ; but wlicthei- 
 it got this name from being used as a medicine for sick 
 cattle, or because it was originally broui^lit from llie 
 ]vini;don^of i\ledia, is unceriaui. Columelia states, that 
 one sow in j^- will last for ten years, and lliat it ought to be 
 cut I'ou)', olicn SIX tunes, in a season. He auds, that it 
 enriclies the land, fattens all kinus of lean cattle, is a 
 remedy lor those that are sick; and iliat one jut^erum 
 (three-fourths of an English acre,J will compittely leeil 
 three horses for a whole year. Palladius speaks nearly 
 to the same purpose in its praise ; and so does Pliny, 
 with this cliHertnce, that he asserts it will last lli.rty 
 years. These, to be sure, are important matters, though 
 we cntertah) doubts whether such crops as are mention- 
 ed by these writers could at this time be realized in the 
 climate oi Italy, far less in the inferior one of Great 
 Britain. When Mr Du Hamel, a great admirer of 
 lucern, speaks of feeding horses of an ordinary size, 
 with five or six pound weight of it per day, we are al- 
 most tempted to smile. The writings of this gentleman, 
 and his friend M. LuUi de Chauteauvieux, are amply 
 filled with connnendalions of lucern ; but we must leave 
 such people as are fond of exotic grasses to learn from 
 these writers what are their respective merits and pro- 
 perties. 
 
 In favour of burnet not much more can be said than 
 of lucern. San-Foin has, however, been sown more ex- 
 tensively than burnet, and with much greater success. 
 Chalky loams and gravelly soils on a calcareous bottom 
 arc most proper fur this grass. It is more adapted to 
 hay tnan pasture ; and much heavier crops of this grass 
 are obtained from thin lands tlian when clover is sown. 
 In short, we consider San-Foin to be a hardy kind of 
 grass, well worth the attention of cultivators in upland 
 districts, where the soil is obdurate and shallow, and 
 where clover and rye-grass can with difficulty be raised 
 to such a height as to stand the sithe. When sown, 
 fresh seed ought constantly to be used, as tlie vegeta- 
 tion of old seed cannot be depended upon. Four bush- 
 els may be used for an acre ; and great care ought to be 
 taken to cover the seed well, and to put it deeper into 
 the ground than the seeds of other grasses. 
 
 Sect. IV. 
 
 On Crofts to be used in jMcvu/actiires. 
 
 Three other green crops remain to be treated of; 
 namely, hemp, flax, and hops. None of these, however, 
 can be viewed as improving crops ; on the contrary, 
 they may be characterized as robbers, that exhaust the 
 soil, and return little, or ratherno manure for restoring 
 it to fertility. They are, however, all necessary articles, 
 and in the present state of public affairs, the culture of 
 the two first, viz. hemp and flax, may be considered as 
 materially connected with national prosperity. 
 
 On Hem/i. 
 
 This is a plant of the herbaceous fibrous-rooted kind, 
 which has a thick strong stem, that rises to a consider- 
 able height, and affords a rind or covering of a firm 
 strong texture, that is valuable for the purpose of being 
 manufactured into cloth, cordage, &c. 
 
 The soils most suited to the culture of this plant, are 
 those of the deep, black, putrid, vegetable kind, that are 
 
 low, and ratlier inclined to moisture, and those of the 
 deep, mellow, loamy, or sandy descriptions. The quan- 
 tity of produce is generally much greater on the former 
 than on the latter ; but it is said to be greaily inferior in 
 quality. It may, however, be grown with success on 
 lands of a less rich and fertile kind, by proper care and 
 attention in their culture and preparation. 
 
 In order to render the grounds proper for the recep- 
 tion of the crop, tiiey should be reduced into a tine mel- 
 low state ot mould, and be perfectly cleared from weeds, 
 by repeated ploughing. When it succeeds grain crops. 
 the work is mostly accomplished by three ploughings. 
 and as many harrowings ; the first being given imme- 
 diately after the preceding crop is removed, the second 
 early in the spring, and the last, or seed earth, just be- 
 fore the seed is to be put in. In the last ploughing, well 
 rotted manure, in the proportion of fifteen or twenty, or 
 good compost, in the quantity of twenty-live or ihiity- 
 three horse-cart loads, should be turned into the land ; 
 as without this it is seldom that good crops can be pro- 
 duced. The surface of the ground being left perfectly flat, 
 and as free from furrows as possible ; as by these means 
 the moisture is more efi'ectually retained, and the growth 
 of the plants more fully promoted. 
 
 Heed, and Method of Hoiving. — It is of much import- 
 ance in the cultivation of hemp crops, that the seed be 
 new, and of a good quality, which may in some measure 
 be known by its feeling heavy in the hand, and being of 
 a bright shining colour. 
 
 The proportion of seed, that is most commonly em- 
 ployed, is from two to three bushels, accoi'ding to the 
 quality of the land ; but, as the crops are greatly injured 
 by the plants standing too closely together, two bushels 
 or two bushels and a half, may be a more advantageous 
 quantity- 
 
 As the hemp plant is extremely tender in its early 
 growth, care should be taken not to put the seed into the 
 ground at so early a period, as that it may be liable to 
 be injured by the effects of frost ; nor to protract the 
 sowing to so late a season, as that the quality of the pro- 
 duce may be affected. The best season, on the drier 
 sorts of land, in the southern districts, is, probably, as 
 soon as possible after the frosts arc over in April, and, 
 on the same descriptions of soil, in the more northern 
 ones, towards the close of the same month, or early in 
 the ensuing one. But, when the ground is more inclined 
 to moisture, it may be a better practice to delay the 
 sowing to a later period in both cases, choosing, if pos- 
 sible, a time when the land is neither too dry nor too 
 moist for perlormiag the business. Sowing as early as 
 possible is, however, in general, to be preferred ; as, 
 wliere this is the case, by the crops becoming more 
 strong and vigorous in the early part of their growth, the 
 hemp is found to withstand the various operations that 
 are afterwards to be performed upon it in a better manner. 
 
 The most general metliod of putting crops of this 
 sort into the soil is the broadcast, the seed being dis- 
 persed over the surface of the land in as even a man- 
 ner as possible, and afterwards covered in by means of a 
 very light harrowing. It is probable, however, that, in 
 many cases, especially where the crops are to stand for 
 seed, the drill method, in rows at small distances, might 
 be had recourse to with advantage ; as, in this way the 
 early growth of the plants would be more effectually 
 promoted, and the land be kept in a more clean and per- 
 fect state of mould, which are circumstances of import- 
 ance in such crops. In whatever method the seed is
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 299 
 
 l>ut in, care must constantly be taken to keep the birds 
 from it for some time afterwards. 
 
 This sort of crop is frcciucnily cultivated on the same 
 piece of ground for a great number of years, without any 
 other kind intervening ; but, in such cases, manure 
 must be applied, with almost every crop, in pretty large 
 proportions, to prevent the exhaustion that must other- 
 wise take place. It may be sown after most sons of 
 grain crops, especially wh^re the land possesses suffi- 
 cient fertility, and is in a proper slate of tillage. 
 
 yifttr CiUntre. — As hemp, from its tall growth and 
 thick foliage, soon covers the surface of the land, and 
 prevents the rising of weeds, little attention is neces- 
 sary after the seed has been put imo the ground, espe- 
 cially where the broadcast metliod of sowing is prac- 
 tised ; but, when put in by the drill machine, a hoeing or 
 two may be had recourse to with advantage in the early 
 growth of the crop. 
 
 In the culture of this plant, it is particularly neces- 
 sary, that the same piece of land contains both male and 
 frniuli , or what is sometimes denominated simfile hemp.' 
 The latter knid contains the seed. 
 
 When the crop is ripe, which is known by its becom- 
 ing of a whitish yellow colour, and a few of the leaves 
 beginning to drop from the stems, which happens com- 
 monly about thirteen or fourteen weeks from the period 
 ot its being sown, according as the season may be dry 
 or wet, the first sort being mostly ripe some weeks be- 
 fore the latter; — tlie next operation is that of taking it 
 from the ground, which is elfccted by pulling it up by 
 the roots, in small parcels at a time, by the hand, taking 
 care to shake off the mould well from them before the 
 handiuls are laid down. In some districts, the whole 
 crop is pulled together, without any distinction being- 
 made between the difterent kinds of hemp ; while, in 
 others, it is the practice to separate and pull them at 
 difterent times, according to their ripeness. The latter 
 is obviously the better practice ; as by pulling a large 
 proportion of the crop before it is in a proper state of 
 maturity, ihe quantity of produce must not only be con- 
 siderably lessened, but its quality greatly injured, by 
 being rendered less durable. The expense of tliis ope- 
 ration varies considerably in different districts ; in some 
 it amounts to eighteen or twenty shillings, while in 
 others it is equally well performed for eleven or twelve. 
 After being thus pulled, it is tied up in small parcels, or 
 what are sometimes provincially termed baits. 
 
 Where crops of this kind are intended for seeding, 
 they should be suffered to stand till the seed becomes 
 in a perfect state of maturity, which is easily known by 
 the appearance of it on inspection. The stems are 
 then pulled and bound up, as in the other case, the 
 bundles being set up in the same manner as grain, until 
 the seed becomes so dry and firm as to shed freely. It 
 is then either immediately thrashed out upon large 
 cloths for the purpose in the field, or taken home to have 
 the operation afterwards performed. 
 
 Tne after-management of hemp crops varies greatly 
 in different places, where their culture is encouraged. 
 In some, it is the practice only to, what is called, dew- 
 rifieji, or ?-f ', the produce, while in others the general 
 custom is to nvater-rct it. 
 
 In the former method, the hemp, immediately after 
 being pulled, is carefully spread out in a very even, re- 
 gular, and thin manner, on a piece of level old pasture, 
 on which it is to remain for five, six, or more weeks, ac- 
 cording to circumstances, being occasionally turned du- 
 
 ring the time. When llic weather is showery, this is 
 mostly done three times in the week; but in other cases 
 twice is commonly sufficient. When the rind or hempy 
 substance becomes easily separable from the woody 
 part, or stem, it is taken up and lied into bundles, either 
 to be slacked up on the spot, or carried home and 
 placed in some convenient situation, where it may re- 
 main until it can be manufactured. In this process, 
 which is termed g-rassitig; great attention is retjuisite to 
 prevent the texture ot ine hemp from being injured by 
 its remaining loo long on the grass. 
 
 But the latter practice is much belter, and more expe- 
 ditious as well as more general. In this, the hemp, as 
 soon as pull; d, is t'ed up in small bundles, freciuentiy at 
 both enas. It is then conveyed to pits, or ponds of stag- 
 nant water, about six or eight feel in depth, such as 
 have a clayey soil being in general preferred, and de- 
 posited in &(d.?, according to their size and depth ; the 
 small bundles being laid both in a straight direction and 
 crosswise of each other, so as to bind perfectly together ; 
 the whole being loaded with timber, or other materials, 
 so as to keep the beds of hemp just below the surface of 
 the water : the quantity of an acre, or three snuii wag- 
 on-loads, being in some instances piled in one bed. 
 But as the action of the atmospheric air is essentially 
 necessary to produce that degree of putrefaction, which 
 is requisite lor destroying the small fibres and vegetable 
 gluten, by which the bark or hempy substance adheres 
 to the bun, or stem, it may be more advantageous to build 
 them in much smaller beds ; as by such means the busi- 
 ness may not only be more expeditiously acconiplislied, 
 but the danger of rotting the hemp too much prevented. 
 On the same principle, the depth of the ponds should 
 not exceed the dimensions given above. It is not usual 
 to water more than four or five times in the same pit, 
 till it has been filled with (resli water. Where tiie ponds 
 are not suSiciently large to contain the whole of the pro- 
 duce at once, it is the practice to pull the hemp only as 
 it can be admitted into them, it being thought diasdvaij- 
 tageous to leave the hemp upon the ground, after 
 being pulled. It is left in these pits, four, five, or 
 six days, or even more, according to the warmth of the 
 season, and the judgment of the operator, on his ex- 
 amining whether the hempy material readily separates 
 from the reed or stem ; and then taken up and conveyed 
 to a pasture field, which is clean and even, the bundles 
 being loosed, and spread out thinly stem by stem, turning 
 it every second or third day, especially in damp weather, 
 to prevent its being injured by worms, or other insects. 
 It should remain in tliis situation for two, three, four, or 
 more weeks, according to circumstances, and be then 
 collected together when in a perfectly dry state, lied up 
 into large bundles, and placed in some secure building 
 until an opportunity is alTorded for breaking it in order 
 to separate the hemp. By this means, tlie process of 
 grasisi/jy is not only shortened, but the more expensive 
 ones of breaking, scutching, and bleaching the yarn, 
 rendered less violent and troublesome. Besides, the 
 hemp managed in this way, sells much dearer than when 
 the former method is adopted. After the hemp has 
 been removed from the field, and the business of gras- 
 shig properly performed, it is in a state to be broken and 
 swingled, operations that are mostly performed by com- 
 mon labourers, by means of machinery for the purpose, 
 the produce being tied up in stones. The refuse, col- 
 lected in the latter processes, is denominated sheaves, 
 and is in some districts emploved for the purposes of fuel, 
 P p 2
 
 300 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 being sold at two pence the stone. Alter having under- 
 gone these different operations, it is ready i'or the pur- 
 poses of the manufacturer. 
 
 On Flax. 
 
 Flax has been sown in Britain fiom time immemorial, 
 though a sufticient quantity has not hitherto been culti- 
 vated to supply the wants of the inhabitants. Whether 
 the British climate is unfavourable to the growth of this 
 article, or whether the constant demand for bread corn 
 prevents a due space of ground from being devoted to 
 its growth, are questions unnecessary to be discussed in 
 this work ; suffice it to say, that, notwithstanding national 
 liberality has stepped forward to promote the growth of 
 flax, and ofi'ered premiums of considerable value both 
 upon flax and the seed produced, still the trade is un- 
 prosperous, and not carried on to such a length as to 
 supply one-half of the demands of our manufacturers. 
 That this is the fact cannot be denied ; though it is 
 equally true, that a great part of British soil, the allu- 
 vial sort particularly, is well qualified for raising this 
 crop in perfection, were the genius and disposition of 
 cultivators bent that way, and no impediments allowed 
 to stand in the way of its culture. 
 
 Flax is not a severe crop on the soil, when pulled 
 green, as it ought to be, if an article of good quality is 
 wished for; though, when allowed to stand for seed, it 
 is as severe a scourge as can be inflicted. The soils 
 most suitable for flax, besides the alluvial kind already 
 mentioned, are deep and friable loams, and such as con- 
 tain a large proportion of vegetable matter in their com- 
 position. Strong clays do not answer well, nor soils of 
 a gravelly or dry sandy nature. But whatever be the 
 liind of soil, it ought neither to be in too poor nor in too 
 rich a condition ; because, in the latter case, the flax is 
 :ipt to grow too luxuriant, and to produce a coarse sort ; 
 and, in the former case, the plant, from growing weakly, 
 affords only a small produce. 
 
 Pr: fiaraiion. — When grass land is intended for flax, 
 it ought to be broke up as early in the season as possi- 
 ble, so that the soil may be duly mellowed by the winter 
 frosts, and in good order for being reduced by the har- 
 rows, when the seed process is attempted. If flax is to 
 succeed a corn crop, the like care is required to procure 
 the aid of frost, w ithout which the surface cannot be ren- 
 dered fine enough for receiving the seed. Less frost, 
 how ever, will do in the last, than in the first case ; there- 
 fore the grass land ought always to be earliest ploughed. 
 At seed time, harrow the land well before the seed is 
 distributed, then cover the seed to a sufficient depth, 
 by giving a close double time of the harrows. Water- 
 furrow the land, and remove any stones and roots that 
 may remain on the surface, which finishes the seed 
 process. 
 
 Quanlily of Seed. — When a crop of seed is intended 
 to be taken, thin sowing is preferable, in order that the 
 plants may have room to fork or spread out their leaves, 
 and to obtain air in the blossoming and filling seasons. 
 But it is a mistake to sow thin, when flax is intended to 
 be taken; for the crop then becomes coarse, and often 
 unproductive. From eight to ten pecks per acre is a 
 proper quantity in the last case; but when seed is the 
 object, six pecks will do very well. 
 
 Time of Pulling. — Different opinions are held with 
 respect to the period when flax can be most profitably 
 pulled ; b\U, generally speaking, it is the safest course 
 ^.o lake it a little early, any thing wanting in quantity 
 
 being, in this way, made up by superiority of quality; 
 besides, when pulled hi u green state, flax is not a 
 scourge, though this objection has been urged a hun- 
 dred limes against its culture. When sufl'ercd to ripen 
 its seed sufficiently, there is no question but that fl^x is 
 a severe crop, though not much more so than ryt-grass, 
 when allowed to stand till the seed is perfectly ripened. 
 But as there is no necessity for allowing any great 
 breadth of flax to remain for seed, the benefits to be de- 
 rived from this crop are numerous, while tiie evils at- 
 tending it are only partial ; and, were sufficient care 
 bestowed, even these evils might be done away almost 
 altogether. Were flax for seed only sown on particular 
 soils, for example on new broke up moors, no detriment 
 would follow ; because these soils are fresh, and in the 
 first instance will produce excellent seed, even of supe- 
 rior quality to what can be raised on lands of three times 
 more value, when applied to corn culture. We have 
 repeatedly ascertained the fact by experiment, and 
 found the seed to be excellent, when sown upon other 
 soils, where flax was taken as a crop. 
 
 Method of JVatering. — When flax is pulled it ought 
 to be immediately put into the water, so that it may part 
 with the rind or shaw, and be fit for the manufacturer. 
 Standing pools, for many reasons, are most proper for 
 the purpose, occasioning the flax to have a better colour, 
 to bo sooner ready for the grass, and even to be of su- 
 perior quality in every respect. When put into the wa- 
 ter, it is tied up in beets, or small sheaves; the smaller 
 the better, because it is then most equally watered. 
 These sheaves ought to be built in the pool in a reclin- 
 ing upright posture, so that the weight placed above 
 may keep the whole firm down. In warm weather, ten 
 days of the watering process is sufficient; but it is pro- 
 per to examine the pools regularly after the seventh 
 day, lest the flax should putrefy or rot, which sometimes 
 happens in very warm weather. Twelve days will an- 
 swer in any sort of weather; though it may be remark- 
 ed, that it is better to give rather too little of the water, 
 than too much, as any deficiency may be easily made up 
 by suffering it to lie longer on the grass, whereas an 
 excess of water admits of no remedy. After lying on 
 the grass for a due time, till any defect of the watering 
 process is rectified, flax is taken up, tied when dry in 
 large sheaves, and carried to the mill to be switched and 
 prepared for the heckle. Switching may also be per- 
 formed by hand-labour; though in this case it is rarely 
 so perfectly accomplished as when machinery is em- 
 ployed. 
 
 From the details already given, it appears that the flax- 
 trade is attended with many difficulties, and that consi- 
 derable labour and industry must be bestowed betwixt 
 the sowing of the sLed and the period when the article 
 is fitted for disposal in the market. These operations, 
 perhaps are inconsistent with the ordinary occupations 
 of a farmer, and suggest the propriety of dividing labour, 
 and separating the raising of flax from the culture of 
 other crops. The farmer may sow the land; but there 
 his labours ought to cease. The assistance of another 
 person ought then to be employed, and the processes of 
 pulling, watering, and switching, be executed under his 
 management. This we believe to be the Dutch and 
 Flanders method ; and unless some system of that na- 
 ture is adopted in Britain, flax husbandry will never 
 thrive, nor become a staple trade in the hands of a corn 
 farmer. 
 
 About twenty -five years ago, this article was exteti-
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 301 
 
 sively raised in East Lothian merely for the seed, which 
 was sold to otiier districts. It was, for that purpose, 
 sown upon fresh moors, and a handsome return was 
 generally received from land comparatively of little va- 
 lue. The zeal, however, of those, who attempted this 
 new method of raising flax, was damped by the difficulty, 
 which often occurred, of finding purchasers ; and it does 
 not appear, that it will soon be revived. Seed, however, 
 was raised of a quality equal, if not superior, to that 
 imported from Holland; but the prejudice, in favour of 
 fortign seed must be removed, before that wiiich is 
 raised at home can find a ready market. That a partial 
 renewal of seed may be necessary, will not be disputed ; 
 but that it ought to be imported eveiy year, seems 
 highly absurd. Some farmers have sown flax-seed, 
 raised on their own land, for ten successive years, with- 
 out perceiving any degeneracy ; and why it should be 
 otherwise with this, and not with seeds of other kinds, 
 cannot be explained. When a degeneracy takes place, 
 in this as in other seeds, a change is certainly i-equisite ; 
 but an annual importation of what we might raise for 
 ourselves, must be regarded as a public loss. The mo- 
 ney, which is m this manner sent out of the country, 
 might be applied to a better purpose. 
 
 Before we leave this article, an observation may be 
 offered, which most of our readers will agree to be well 
 founded ; namely, that the legislature of the country has 
 paid more attention to farming laws, or regulations, re- 
 garding the husbandry of flax, than to any other branch 
 of rural economics. It is well known, that the venders 
 of flax-seed in this country are obliged, by law, to pro- 
 duce certificates to a purchaser, that the seed sold, is 
 not only the growth of a particular country, but also that 
 it was produced in a particular year ; and, should any 
 fraud be discovered on the part of the vender, he is se- 
 verely punishable, accordmg to certain laws enacted for 
 that express purpose. All this may be very well, and 
 we find no fault with it; but if these statutory enact- 
 ments arc right with regard to flax-seed, why are they 
 not extended to seeds of every description ? Considering 
 the immense quantities of seed grain and seed grasses 
 sent from London annually to every part of the king- 
 dom, and the great losses which farmers, in numerous 
 inst;mces, have sustained, from receiving grain or grass 
 seeds of bad or imperfect qualities, it would be equally 
 good policy, were the legislature to establish some re- 
 gulations, whereby evils so great, and so generally com- 
 plained of, might in future be avoided. Why attention 
 has not been paid to these matters, whilst the growth 
 and sale of flax-seed has been thought worthy of being 
 regulated by particular statutes, can alone be attributed 
 to the predilection long shown by the government of 
 Britain to every thing connected with trade and manu- 
 facture. Perhaps the value of grass-seeds sent annually 
 from London, ten times exceeds that of all the flax-seeds 
 vended in the island ; and yet the greatest trade is open 
 and unprotected from frauds, whilst the inferior one is 
 guarded and protected on every hand. The way of car- 
 rying on the grass-seed trade of London is well known 
 to most persons. The old seeds on hand, some of them 
 even two, three, and four years of age, are mixed and 
 remixed together, till qualities of every kind are there- 
 by produced. Sales, in the market, are never at a stand, 
 even in the heat of summer; and the purchaser to-day, 
 after making a suitable intermixture, \\\\\ appear in the 
 market to-morrow, and endeavour to gain a profit from 
 the article thus manufactured and prepared. Were 
 
 certificates required of the age of grass-seeds, matters 
 could not be conducted in this manner, provided that 
 the sellers were liable to heavy penalties, when these 
 certificates were contrary to truth. We by no means 
 recommend, that the growers and sellers of grass-seeds 
 should be exposed to unnecessary trouble; but surely it 
 can be no hardship upon any man, when he sells an ar- 
 ticle, to certify the year of its growth. If the purchaser 
 is pleased to consider the seed, that is of the greatest 
 age, as the preferable sort, then he has only himself to 
 blame in the event of his money being thrown away ; 
 but give him fair play. Let him know the year of its 
 growth, and whether it is British or foreign seed, and 
 he must trust to his senses for the rest. A very con- 
 siderable number of farmers, are, at the best, but im- 
 perfect judges of the quality of grass-seeds ; hence they 
 are entitled to some share of legislative protection. 
 
 When on this subject, another nearly connected with 
 it may be noticed, namely, the trade in the different 
 varieties of turnip-seeds. It is well known, that four 
 or five years ago, it was scarcely practicable to obtain a 
 pound weight of ruta baga, or Swedish turnip-seed, 
 pure and uncontaminatcd, from any shop whatever, as, 
 owing to the negligence of growers, some communication 
 or other had always taken place with other plants, when 
 the blossoming process was going forward. Owing to 
 this negligence, heavy losses were sustained by many 
 farmers, till at last some of them more sagacious than 
 others found that the only remedy was to raise seed for 
 their own supply, in which way the true species of ruta 
 baga has again been happily restored to agriculturists. 
 Perhaps a recent decision of the supreme court in Scot- 
 land, will be of eminent advantage to the farming in- 
 terest. The principles adopted by the court, when 
 deciding upon the cause alluded to, were, that if the 
 purchaser could not make the seller liable for selling 
 seeds of a diff"erent description from what he bargained 
 for, the public could have no security whatever, that 
 they would get the article they were in want of from 
 the seedsmen. Besides, the court seems to have held 
 it to be agreeable to the principles of strict law, that 
 every man, who sells a commodity to another at a fair 
 price, virtually warrants the commodity as of good qual- 
 ity ; and that, if one commodity is sold under the name 
 of another, the seller must be answerable for the con- 
 sequences. 
 
 In the proceedings alluded to, the supreme court ap- 
 pears to have been guided by sound and correct prin- 
 ciples ; and their decision, we have no doubt, will be 
 attended with the most happy consequences. The ex- 
 ternal appearance of many seeds, does not furnish a 
 proof of their particular qualities, as evidenced in the 
 fullest manner by what has happened with some farmers 
 of the first rate abilities, who, even for a great many 
 years, have been in the regular practice of saving these 
 very seeds in considerable quantities. We have seen 
 seed sold for that of turnip, and apparently of excellent 
 quality, which in fact turned out to be a weed of an un- 
 describable nature, and of a species hitherto unknown 
 in this country. In a v ord, there is no other method 
 of making the grower attentive to the article which be 
 disposes of, but the one lately adopted by the supreme 
 court, which, we trust, will be followed by the happiest 
 eff"ects. 
 
 On Holis. 
 
 Hops are a necessary article in brewing, but not ad- 
 vantageous in an agricaltural point of Aiew ; because
 
 302 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 much manure is abstracted by them, while little of none 
 is returned. They arc an uncertain article ol growth, 
 often yieldinj^ large profil.i to the cultivator, and as often 
 niakiniv an imperfect return, barely sufficient to defray 
 the expenses of laljour. In fact, hops are exposed to 
 many more diseases than any other plant with which 
 we are acquainted ; and the trade aflbrds a greater room 
 for speculation, then any other exercised within the Bri- 
 tish dominions. 
 
 When a piece of land is intended to be planted, the 
 first thini; is to plout!;h the land as deep as possible, 
 early in ()cto!)er, and to harrow it level : it is then me- 
 l .d each way with a four rod chain, placing pieces of reed 
 or slick at every tenth link, to murk the place of the 
 liills, which makes looo per acre. This is ihe general 
 method ; but some few grounds are planted 800, and 
 some l^OO per acre ; some are planted wider one way 
 than the other, in order to admit ploughing between the 
 hills, instead of digging. But this practice, although it 
 lias been tried many years, does not seem to increase, on 
 account of the difficidty of digging along the rows, where 
 the plough cannot go ; that part, being much trodden 
 with the horses in ploughing, digs so much the worse, 
 that an extra expense is incurred, which in some mea- 
 sure defeats the economy of the plan. When the hills 
 are nrarked out, holes are dug about the size of a gal- 
 lon, which are filled with fine mould, and the nursery- 
 plants placed in them. 
 
 Some put three plants, others two, and some only one 
 good plant to each hole. If the land is planted with 
 cuttings, instead of nursery -plants, the holes are dug in 
 the spring, as soon as ctitting time commences. Some 
 fine mould is provided to fill up the holes, in which are 
 placed four or five cvittings, each about three or four 
 inches in length. They are covered about an inch deep 
 with fine mould, and pressed down close with the hand. 
 When the land is planted with cuttings, no sticks are 
 required ; but, if nursery plants are used, they require 
 sticks, or small poles, six or seven feet high the first 
 year. In both cases, the land is kept clean, during the 
 summer, by horse and hand hoeing ; the next winter 
 dug with a spade ; and early in the spring the old binds 
 are cut off smooth, about an inch below the surface ; a 
 little fine motild is then drawn over the crown of the hills. 
 As soon as tiie young shoots appear, so that the hills 
 may be seen, they are stuck with small poles, from se- 
 ven to ten feet long, in proportion to the length it is ex- 
 pected the bind will run. These poles are called se- 
 conds, and are generally bought in the woods, at from 
 5s. to 8s. per hundned, and three of them are placed to 
 each hill. As soon as the binds get about two feet in 
 length, women are employed to tie them to the poles. 
 The land is kept clean during the summer, by horse 
 and hand hoeing, as before mentioned. The proper 
 time for gathering them is known by the hop rubbing 
 freely to pieces, and the seed beginning to turn brown. 
 They are picked in baskets, containing five bushels each, 
 and are carried to the oast in bags, at noon and even- 
 ing, for drying. Great care and skill are necessary in 
 this branch of the business ; the smallest neglect or 
 ignorance in the management of the fires, will spoil the 
 hops, and occasion great loss to the phnter. When 
 dried, and sufficiently cool to get a Itttle tough, so as 
 not to crumble to powder, they are put into bags, or 
 pockets, the former containing two hundred weight and 
 a half, and the latter, an hundred and a quarter : they 
 
 are then trodden very close, and weighed by the ex- 
 ciseman. 
 
 The second year after planting, full-sized poles, from 
 15 to 20 feet in length, according to the strength of the 
 land, which cost from 16s. to 36s. per hundred, are pla- 
 ced to the hills instead of the seconds, which arc re- 
 moved to younger grounds. Here great care is neces- 
 sary not to overpole, for by that means young grounds 
 are often much weakened; and it is equally so not to 
 over-dung them, as that will make them mouldy. Kitty 
 cart-loads of well rotted farm yard dung and mould, 
 once in three years, are generally esteemed sufficient for 
 an acre of land. 
 
 ProducfiotiK. — There can be no certain report made 
 of the produce of the hop plantations ; because, in some 
 years, the growth is less than two hundred weight per 
 acre, and in others it is fourteen or fifteen : tie average 
 may be seven or eight. 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 On Grass Husbandry. 
 
 If the introduction of turnips occasioned a revolution 
 in the rural art of Britain, that of artificial grasses pro- 
 duced a change of no less importance at an earlier pe- 
 riod. It is dillitult to fix upon the time, when clover, 
 and other artificial grasses, were introduced into this isl- 
 and ; though it may reasonably be inferred, that the pe- 
 riod was during the reign of Queen Elizabeth, when the 
 nation had almost a constant and regular intercourse with 
 Holland, and the provinces of the Netherlands ; at least, 
 we are certain, that, during the Protectorate, when Blythe 
 published his treatise on agriculture, artificial grasses 
 were well known in England. Many years, however, 
 elapsed before they travelled northward to Scotland, such 
 articles being hardly known by the husbandmen of that 
 country when the two nations were united into one em- 
 pire ; nay, it is not more than forty years since they came 
 to be generally used ; though, at this time, they are 
 sown in greater quantities by the farmers of Scotland 
 than by those in the neighbouring country. 
 
 It is not difficult to account for the predilection of 
 Scottish farmers for artificial grasses. The alternate 
 husbandry is more sedulously followed out by them, than 
 by the great body of farmers in England. Compara- 
 tively speaking, there is a small quantity of old pas- 
 ture or meadow land in Scotland; whereas, in England, 
 immense tracts of old grass are to be found almost in 
 every district. Besides, the soil and climate of Scot- 
 land require, that grasses be often renovated, otherwise 
 the produce, in most cases, is regularly lessened, in pro- 
 portion to the age of the particular grasses cultivated. 
 These things duly considered will account for the 
 strong predilection shown by Scottish farmers for ar- 
 tificial grasses, and why alternate husbandly is more 
 assiduously exercised by them than by the English hus- 
 bandman. 
 
 Sect. I. 
 
 On Grasses far Cutting: 
 
 We are unacquainted with any variety of grass, that 
 will yield a greater return to the farmer, when cut by the 
 silhe, than broad or red clover mixed with a small quan- 
 tity of rye-grass. The first mentioned may be regard-
 
 AGRICULTURK. 
 
 303 
 
 ed, ill most cases, as the parent which produces the 
 crop, and the otlicr only in llie liglit ot an assistant, or 
 nurse, which serves to train up the ciop to maturity, 
 and to protect it trom rude hlasls and inclement storms. 
 I'^ine soils alone arc calculated to produce a heavy crop 
 of grass, when clover is only used as the seed plant; 
 but when a small quantity ot rye-grass is sown along 
 with the clover, it is wondcriul what weight ot crop 
 may be obtained, even from interior soils, when the seeds 
 are sown at a proper season, on land in good order and 
 condition. Some people make a greater mixture, and 
 add a portion of white and yellow clover; but the addi- 
 tion is unnecessary, when a cutting crop only is meant to 
 be taken ; and we are convinced, that grass cut in one 
 year ought to be ploughed in the next, otherwise a crop 
 of inferior value will certainly be obtained. Laying 
 this down therefore as a tixcd rule, we consider sixteen 
 pounds weight of red or broad clover, and two pecks of 
 rye-grass seed, as a full allowance for a Scottish acre of 
 ground, which, as already stated, is one-tilth larger than 
 English statute measure. The seeds, to ensure a good 
 crop of grass, ought always to be sown with a fallow 
 crop; and, if >>ith winter wheat, great care ought to be 
 used to cover them properly, even though the welfare of 
 ttie wheat should be hazarded by the harrowing pro- 
 cess; if with spring wheat or barley, the grass seeds 
 should be sown at the same time with these crops, none 
 of which ought to be thickly seeded, so that the grasses 
 may not be smothered or destroyed. Unless in very 
 favourable seasons, and when the grass has grown to a 
 great length at harvest, neither sheep nor cattle ought 
 lobe allowed to set a foot upon the stubbles; and next 
 spring the ground should be carefully stoned, and after- 
 wards rolled, so that the sithe may run smoothly upon 
 the surface, and cut the crop as close as possible. The 
 closer the first crop is cut, so much faster will the se- 
 cond one rush up, and so much thicker will the roots 
 set out fresh stems, and thus produce a weighty after- 
 math. To cut the aftermath with the sitlie is also the 
 most profitable way of using it; because a great quan- 
 tity of food is thereby provided for live-stock, and a large 
 increase made to the dung-hill. It nmst be remembered, 
 however, that, alter these cuttings, it is necessary to 
 plough the land again ; because the roots of the plants 
 will rot in the succeeding winter, at least many of them 
 will do so, and, of course, a small crop of grass will 
 afterwards be obtained, whether the sithe is used again, 
 or pasturing resorted to. 
 
 Sect. II. 
 
 On the Method of consuming cut Grass. 
 
 Clover and rye-grass, sown for a ctttting crop, may 
 be used in various way's : 1. As green food for the work- 
 ing stock. 2. For fattening the cattle, either put up to 
 the stake, or kept in a court or farm-yard. 3. For hay. 
 On each of these points we shall say a few words. 
 
 1. As green food for the working stock, clover and 
 rye-grass ni'w be used with great advantage, when in a 
 succulent state ; and when cut fresh, and furnished re- 
 gularly, the animals will thrive equally well as if allowed 
 to roam at large, wliile at least one-half less ground is 
 required to support them in the former case than in the 
 fatter. Besides, horses kept in this way are always at 
 hand, and ready for service. They are not in'jured, as 
 in the field, by galloping about and kicking at each 
 other; nor is their dung lost, as it is in a great measure 
 
 when the field is depastured ; but it is preserved in a 
 moist heap, the slruu used for litter being saturated 
 witli the water, wliich, wlicn on this food, they make in 
 great quantuies. Indeed, the practice of soiling horses 
 IS now so hrmly established in all well cultivated dis- 
 tricts, that to say more in support of it would be altoge- 
 ther unnecessary. 
 
 2. The next way of using clover and rj-c-grass cut by 
 the sithe, is to feed cattle upon the grass by tying 
 them up in a sharle, or allowing them to run at large in 
 a farm-yard. This is a practice of more recent date 
 than that of teeding horses, though, by analogy, it may 
 be inferred, that if this mode of feeding answers in the 
 one case, it will do equally well in the other. It is ob- 
 vious, that any quantity of grass may be consumed in 
 this way, to the great beneht of the corn farmer, who 
 generally stands in need of more dung than can be ac- 
 cumulated from the straw of his corn crops ; and it is 
 plain, tliat in no other way can a greater quantity of dung 
 be collected, than where this method is adopted, whilst, 
 at the same time, it is of superior quality to every other 
 kind, that from turnip cattle excepted. The practice, 
 to be sure, is attended with some degree of trouble ; 
 but this objection will not be urged against its utility by 
 any real husbandman ; for, as man must live by the 
 sweat ol his brow, the best management necessarily 
 includes the greatest portion of trouble, and, vice versa, 
 slovenly and imperfect management is most easily exe- 
 cuted. 
 
 But as experience and practice, in all such cases, are 
 the best guides, we shall otfer to the consideration of our 
 readers the result of a trial made at Markle, in the 
 county of Haddington, to ascertain the advantages of 
 home-feeding in the summer months, which seems to 
 be decisive in favour of the practice of using grass in 
 the farm-yard, instead of depasturing it v/ith cattle, ac- 
 cording to the ordinary method. This mode of feeding 
 has been regularly continued since the experiment was 
 made, and the advantages have been so extensive as to 
 justify its continuance. 
 
 Mr Drown, tenant of that farm, having purchased, in 
 October 1804, at Falkirk tryst, 48 Aberdeenshire stots, 
 mostly of a fvill age, which were wintered in the farm- 
 yard, divided them, on the 4th of May 1805, into two 
 lots, when one lot was put to grass, and the other into 
 the farm-yard, where they gut a tasting of ruta baga in 
 addition to their usual fare of straw, till the clover field 
 was fit for cutting. Before the division, a few turnips 
 had been given to 30 of the best and largest cattle in a 
 separate court; but, as that parcel was equally divided 
 previous to the remaining 18 being examined, the re- 
 sult is not thereby atTccted, especially as the turnips and 
 ruta baga are charged against the clover-fed cattle in the 
 after statement. 
 
 On the 1st of June clover was given to the cattle in 
 troughs and cribs ; though, for a week at least, to save 
 danger, the quantity given was much less than they 
 could have consumed. After that time, a full supply 
 was allowed, and the offal or waste furnished main- 
 tenance for a large parcel of swine of different ages. 
 Till the grass got hard and withered, the cattle in gen- 
 eral, after the first fortnight, throve amazingly well, par- 
 ticularly those who had got a few turnips in March and 
 April. Exceptions there were, even amongst them ; for 
 the strongest and boldest cattle generally took posses- 
 sion of the cribs, and would not resign them till their ap- 
 petite was satisfied. This evil must necessarily happen
 
 i0 4. 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 where any conbidoinblc iiumbcr arc kept together, and 
 ran only be avoided by having several courts or feeding 
 places, and selecting liie cuttle for each, according to 
 their size and disposition. 
 
 About the end of July, when the grass was fully 
 ripened, the food was changed, and tares, which were 
 sown in March, were given, and continued, till the se- 
 cond crop of clover was ready for the sithe. On the 
 ..'8th of August, ten of the toli.i were sold, which allowed 
 more justice to be done to those who had hitherto been 
 second in hand. On the 24th September, the remainder 
 were disposed of; though, unfortunately, one of them 
 died of a surfeit on the preceding day, which reduced 
 the account of profits nearly at the rate of 10 ptr ctnt. 
 
 It should have been mentioned, that the farm-yard, 
 or courtine, was regularly littered with straw, which 
 occasioned much excellent dung to be collected. A 
 plentiful supply of water was also at hand ; and the cat- 
 tle reposed, during the heat of the day, in open sheds 
 around the yard much more comfortably than they could 
 have done in any field whatever. This circumstance is 
 mentioned, because several dealers sagaciously con- 
 cluded, that the confined air of the court, and the reflec- 
 tion of sunshine from the houses, would keep the cattle 
 so warm as to prevent tallow from being gathered in any 
 quantity. On the contrary, they were better tallowed 
 than beasts of their size, fed for the like time, generally 
 are. The one which died of a surfeit had 4 stone 61b. 
 Ti'oy, or 96lb. Avoirdupois of tallow, and the weight of 
 the carcass was only 34 stone Dutch. 
 
 The profit and loss account of this parcel, which was 
 made up with every possible attention to accuracy, may 
 now be stated, and it is presented, merely that the result 
 of the experiment may be sufficiently understood. 
 
 Cattle fed at Markle on clover and 
 
 tares, 1805. i?r. 
 
 To prime cost at Falkirk, and ex- 
 penses • i.227. 11 
 
 To wintering on straw, at 15.?. each . . 18 
 
 To proportion of turnips in March and 
 
 April 600 
 
 To l^acre of ruta baga, at 5/. peracre 8 15 O 
 
 Total charge when clover-feeding com- 
 
 second crop of clover, owing to the severe drought, was 
 very light. 
 
 <■' Markle, 2d October, 1805. — These certify, that I 
 have this day measured the clover and tare ground be- 
 longing to Mr Ijrown, the produce of which was con- 
 sumed by cattle in the yard, betwixt the first of June and 
 this daie, and find the contents of the clover to be eight 
 acres, and one hundredth part of an acre ; and the tares, 
 two acres, and ninety-six hundredth parts of an acre, 
 Scotch measure. 
 
 William Dickinsok." 
 
 The net profit, 106/. 7s. may be classed as follows : 
 
 6 Acres of clover, at 12/ L.72 
 
 2 Acres do. 8/ 16 
 
 1 Acre of tares 870 
 
 2 Acres do. 5/ 10 o 
 
 menced 
 
 i.260 6 
 
 Cattle fed at Markle on clover and 
 
 tares, 1805. Cr. 
 
 By 10 sold Aug. 28. at 17/. 15*. . . . L.\77 10 
 
 By 13 sold Sept. 24. at 14/. 55 185 5 
 
 By hide and tallow of the beast that died . 3 18 
 
 i.366 13 
 
 Deducting the 260/. 6.s., when the cattle were put to 
 grass, the net profit was 106/. 7s., besides what was ob- 
 tained from swine maintained on the offal. 
 
 The clover and tare land, which yielded food for the 
 cattle, extended nearly to eleven acres, viz. eight of 
 clover and three of tares ; but the surveyor's certificate, 
 given below, will be the best evidence on this point. It 
 may be added, that six acres of the clover were good, 
 and would have produced 300 stone of hay per acre ; 
 the other two were only middling, and could not be es- 
 timated as exceeding 200 stone. Of the tares, one acre 
 or thereby was good, the remainder indifferent. The 
 
 Z.106 7 
 
 It may be objected, that nothing is stated for the 
 trouble of cutting and carting the clover and tares ; bui 
 it is presumed, this was much more than compensated 
 by the great quantity of fine manure accumulated dur- 
 ing the process. Had the advice of some people been 
 taken, the profit account might have been considerably 
 augmented, by taking credit on that head ; but it was 
 not wished to state it a halfpenny higher than could be 
 sufficiently instructed. Indeed, whoever reflects upon 
 the difficulty of converting straw into dung on clay soils, 
 where turnips cannot be raised with advantage, must al- 
 low, that a benefit of no small importance is gained from 
 using grass in this manner, independent of the direct 
 profit arising from the bestial. 
 
 Had it been practicable to run a comparison betwixt 
 the lot depastured in the field, and the one fed at home, 
 the advantages of the latter mode would have been more 
 strikingly displayed ; but as the former were mixed 
 with other parcels purchased at different periods, it was 
 impracticable, to present a comparative statement, wiiich 
 would have any pretension to correctness. Both lots, 
 however, were sold exactly at the same price, and on the 
 same day, which affords a sufficient foundation for two 
 inferences, viz. 1. That cattle will feed equally well on 
 cut meat, if care is taken to furnish them with a full 
 supply in a regular manner, as they will do in the field, 
 when allowed to roam at large : 2. That the saving of 
 grass must be considerable, though we are unable, from 
 the above circumstance, to ascertain the extent of it with 
 precision. However, from the total result on the dif- 
 ferent parcels of cattle, and other stock depastured, we 
 are inclined to believe, that the saving per acre will 
 amoimt to 50 Jier cent., or, in other, words, that a field 
 of clover and rye-grass will feed one half more beasts, 
 when cut by the sithe, than when it is depastured. A 
 caution must, however, be offered to such people as 
 may attempt to feed in the former way, that a very 
 great degree of attention is necessary in every step, 
 otherwise loss, instead of gain, may eventually follow. 
 The yard, in which the cattle are fed, ought to be com- 
 modiously fitted up ; a plentiful supply of water kept 
 within its bounds ; a careful servant provided for man- 
 agement ; tares sown in different successions, to come 
 in when the grass arrives at maturity ; and fresh pro- 
 vision furnished regularly, at least five times per day. 
 Unless tares are provided when the clover becomes 
 hard and unpalatable, cattle will make no further pro-
 
 AGllICULTLRE. 
 
 505 
 
 gi'css; but having that article of different ages, the 
 process of feeding went regularly forward in the instance 
 mentioned. Some may object, that such a mode of feed- 
 ing is a troublesome one, and that the old way of allow- 
 ing the cattle to seek their own food is much more easy 
 and convenient. We grant that a good deal of trouble 
 accompanies home-feeding ; but are yet to learn the 
 branch of good management, which can be executed 
 with as little trouble as is sustained when the system 
 is slovenly and improvident. The like objection was 
 urged against summer fallow on its first introduction ; it 
 %vas afterwards repeated against the drilling of turnips; 
 and, in short, every perfect plan is of consequence ex- 
 posed to it. Perhaps a general adoption of home-feed- 
 ing would be the greatest improvement that can be in- 
 troduced on clay soils, which naturally are unfit for the 
 growth of turnips. All such soils require a good deal of 
 manure before they can be farmed successfully ; and 
 where situated at a distance from a large town, no ad- 
 ditional supply can be procured. To use resources within 
 their bounds, seems therefore to be sound wisdom, even 
 laying aside all consideration of profit in the first in- 
 stance. If the clover-brcak, where a six-course shift is 
 followed, were regularly cut with the sithe, and con- 
 sumed at home, perhaps every farmer would manure 
 one-sixth more ground annually, than what he is at pre- 
 sent capable of doing. 
 
 One observation occurs, with which these remarks 
 shall be concluded. Cattle, intended for home-feeding, 
 should be in decent condition when grass is first given 
 them ; for, if otherwise, the best part of the season, 
 namely, the month of June, when grass is richest, is 
 over before much alteration can be discovered. It would 
 also be a desirable circumstance to have the main part 
 ready for the butcher by the time that the first crop of 
 grass becomes hard and unpalatable ; for though tares 
 are an excellent succedaneum, yet, considering the dif- 
 ference of produce on a given spot, they are more ex- 
 pensive food ; and the second crop of clover contains 
 much less feeding matter, even from the same bulk, 
 than is yielded from the first one. 
 
 3. To convert clover and rye-grass into hay, or dry 
 fodder, for winter consumption, is another way in which 
 tlicse grasses may be profitably used. It is well known, 
 that, in common seasons, the process of winning clover 
 and rye-grass, and making them into excellent hay, is a 
 very simple matter, and that with no other grasses can 
 the hay process be so easily or speedily executed. To 
 cut the plants a little quick, is obviously the best method 
 of procuring good hay, and likewise of the most advan- 
 tage to the ground ; because the plants, not having per- 
 fected their seeds, extract from the ground much less of 
 its strength or substance than would undoubtedly be 
 drawn out, were they suffered to stand till they arrived 
 at maturity. Clover and rye-grass are great improvers 
 of the soil, when cut at an early period of the season; 
 but if allowed to occupy the ground till their seeds are 
 fully ripened, a different character must be bestowed. 
 In fact, improvement from these varieties of grass is 
 regulated entirely by the time of their cutting; and 
 as it is early or late in the season when the cutting 
 process is performed, so will tlie advantage to be de- 
 rived from these grasses fall to be ascertained. We 
 here speak of the soil, not of the weight of the crop 
 which may be reaped from it ; though, when the first 
 crop is late, or stands long uncut, the second is rarely 
 of much value. 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 Grass, when cut for hay, ought to be quickly raked, in 
 order that its powers may neither be exhausted by the 
 sun, nor dissipated by the air. In the first stage, small 
 cocks are preferable ; and on after days, these may be 
 gathered into larger ones, or hand-ricks, by which me- 
 thod the hay is equally made, and properly sweeted. 
 After standing eight or ten days in these ricks, accord- 
 ing to the nature of the weather, hay may be carted 
 home, and built in stacks of sufficient size for standing- 
 through the winter months. In ordinary weather, the 
 processes of preparing hay and bringing it into good 
 condition are easily executed, though in bad weather 
 few branches of rural economy are attended witii more 
 vexation, or performed with more difficulty. If this is 
 the case with clover and rye-grass, the hazard and trou- 
 ble are ten times greater when natural or meadow 
 grasses are made into hay. In a wet season, these are 
 rarely preserved in a healthy condition ; and in the very 
 best, much more attention and work are required, than 
 when artificial grasses are to be harvested. 
 
 Sect. III. 
 
 Of Grass, nvhen consianed by Live Stock. 
 
 Pasturage is the ancient and common method of con- 
 suming grass ; and as many soils do not yield crops which 
 can be consumed in any other way, it obviously must 
 continue to be followed as the best way in which live 
 stock can in general cases be fed or supported. We 
 are decided advocates for the soiling system, in certain 
 situations, but not so bigoted as to contend for the use 
 of that system upon every soil, and in every situation; 
 because natural impediments are often in the way, which 
 render the system unprofitable and inexpedient. Upon 
 certain soils, and in particular situations, pasturage must 
 be adopted, because the grasses raised are unfit for the 
 sithe, and will not defray the trouble and expense of ga- 
 thering them together, preparatory to being used in 
 home feeding. 
 
 This is the case with many of the upland districts, 
 and with thin soils, wherever they are situated. To 
 land under these circmnstances, the preceding observa- 
 tions are confined ; but there are many fields of old grass 
 in the richest districts, where cutting by the sithe 
 cannot be recommended. It is, however, a very com- 
 mon practice in England to hay such fields, though no 
 doubt can be entertained concerning tlie impropriety 
 of the practice. The soil is not only robbed thereby 
 of its powers, but the roots of the plants are exposed 
 to destruction in the subsequent winter season. In a 
 word haying and pasturing of land arc practices dia- 
 metrically at variance with each other ; and the sithe 
 ought never to enter a pasture field, unless it be to cut 
 weeds. Were artificial grasses sown in the districts 
 where hay is taken on old pasture lands, theie would 
 not be the slightest necessity for cutting them with the 
 sithe ; but as one defect generally causes another, so 
 the neglect of artificial grasses is the real cause why 
 the old pastures are so grossly mismanaged, in order 
 that the first omission may in some measure be recti- 
 fied and supplied. 
 
 Besides, the grasses most fit forthe sithe are not best 
 calculated to make a good pasturage; nor ought seeds 
 in the first mentioned instance to be sown so thick as is 
 necessary when tlie grazing system is to be adopted. 
 We have already said, that red clover and rye-grass are 
 the proper seeds for a crop, either to be used in soiling, 
 
 Q q
 
 ,306 
 
 AGIMCULTLKE. 
 
 or to be nianuliictuixd into liay ; but when pasture is in- 
 tended, wliitc clover sliould be lilierally used. A pas- 
 ture field can scarcely be too thick planted at the out- 
 set; because, being constantly eaten down by the cattle, 
 the thickness of bottom is not detrimental, nay rather 
 advantageous to its alter growth. It is of importance, 
 Tiowever, not to put beasts too early in the season upon 
 new grass, and particularly to keep them off' when the 
 weather is wet. After the surface is consolidated, less 
 risk of damage is encountered, though at all times pas- 
 luring by heavy cattle is attended with evi! consequences 
 during wet weather. 
 
 We are iriends to alternate husbandry, and therefore 
 hostile to every scheme calculated to keep land in grass 
 constantly, or for any period comparatively long. A 
 few old pastures may be useful for particular purposes ; 
 but, generally speakhig, none should exceed the age of 
 five or six years, in a country like Great Britain, where 
 bread-corn is so much in deniand, and where a return 
 of value is generally obtained, sufficient to defray the 
 expenses incurred by allcrnate husbandry. Perhaps, 
 in many cases, one year in grass is sufficient for every 
 useful purpose ; and we arc almost certain that this sys- 
 tem, upon a good soil, is the most profitable one that 
 can be adopted, when discretionary management is per- 
 mitted. There are many soils, however, which require 
 to be longer grazed, not on account of the profit obtain- 
 ed by allowing them to remain in that state, but en- 
 tirely because they will not pay for ploughing, unless 
 freshened and invigorated by grass. The most suitable 
 way of accomplishing these objects is to understock ; for 
 the extent of improvement by grass, upon such soils as 
 those alluded to, is regulated entirely by the way in 
 which they arc depastured. If eaten bare, and left ex- 
 posed to a hot sun, or a scourging wind, the roots of the 
 plants are enfeebled, and prevented from flourishing, 
 whilst the surface, deprived of a cover whereby it may 
 be warmed and fructified, continues equally barren and 
 unproductive as when the grasses were originally sown. 
 Another evil of overstocking such soils, and that not 
 a trifling one, is, that whenever artificial grasses be- 
 come languid and feeble, their place is supplied by 
 the aboriginal inhabitants. Moor-fog, that bane of 
 grass upon thin soils, is sm'C to take possession of the 
 surface, and to put the ground into a worse condition 
 when ploughing is again attempted, than it was when 
 grass seeds were sown. 
 
 From these things it will appear, that a considerable 
 share of judgment is required to manage grass land, so 
 that the soil may be improved, and the occupier benefit- 
 ed. The last object cannot be accomplished, if the first 
 is neglected ; hence it often happens, that the grazing 
 trade becomes a bad one, when in the hands of injudi- 
 cious persons. The radical error lies in overstocking ; 
 and it is even attended with great risk to stock any way 
 fully, till the nature of each season is in some measure 
 ascertained. Froni inattention to these matters, a crop 
 4if grass may be consumed, without benefiting the owner 
 one half so much as it might have done under different 
 management. Nay, in some instances, grass has been 
 lost altogether by overstocking, the cattle depastured 
 thereon being little, if at all, improved at the end of the 
 season. To keep a full bite, is the inaxim of every good 
 grazier; but this cannot be obtained without under- 
 stocking, because an adverse season may come on, and 
 blast the fairest prospect. 
 
 Upon thin soils of every description, sheep arc a safer 
 
 stock than black cattle, beeause the former will thri\e 
 where Jie latter will starve. An annual stock may also 
 be considered as preferable to a breeding or standing 
 one in all low country districts ; and perhaps rearing ol 
 lambs for the butcher, and feeding their dams after- 
 wards, is the most profitable way of keeping sheep. 
 These things, however, will be treated of with more 
 propriety in the next chapter. 
 
 Sect. IV. 
 
 On Breaking ufi old Grass Land by the Plough, and the 
 most jD-vJxtr ivay 'jf uianaging it aftcrwarda. 
 
 There is not a single branch of rural practice in which 
 the farmers of Great Britain arc more defective, than 
 the culture of land broken up from old grass, or one 
 where greater improvement may be introduced, than in 
 the several processes necessary before the roots of these 
 grasses can be sufficiently destroyed, so that crops of 
 grain and artificial grasses maybe successfully cultiva- 
 ted. By old grass land, we mean land that has remain- 
 ed twenty, thirty, fifty, or a greater number of years, 
 without being turned up by the plough. Grassland ol 
 such ages rarely falls to be broken up by many farmers, 
 and those who are concerned in that process, seldom 
 have an opportunity of repeating any improvement made 
 during the course of their first attempt to cultivate old 
 grass land. Hence, though few branches of husbandry 
 afford room for more successful cultivation than the 
 breaking up of old grass land ; yet it generally happens, 
 that those so engaged, seldom gain much profit to them- 
 selves, or convey any benefit to the land under their 
 management. It is presumed, that to the imperfect 
 mode of culture olten practised when the plough was 
 introduced into old grass lands, may be attiibuted the 
 strong antipathy which influences the majority of pro- 
 prietors against renovating them by tillage. In fact, it 
 is consistent with our personal knowledge, that many 
 fields of such land have been considerably injured in 
 consequence of the plough being used, which was en- 
 tirely owing to the proper mode of destroying the abo- 
 riginal inhabitants being omitted. Under these circum- 
 stances, the antipathy of proprietors against breaking 
 up their grass lands, need not excite surprise. A field 
 of old grass land is a treasure v.hich deserves to be 
 guarded, and ought not to be wantonly broken up, un- 
 less it can be shown, that the introduction of tillage will 
 not deteriorate its value, or lessen its ability to carry 
 good crops of grass afterwards. The object of this Sec- 
 tion is, therefore, to show, that it is perfectly practica- 
 ble to plough such lands without dissipathig the trea- 
 sure contained in them, and to restore them to grass, af- 
 ter carrying a round of crops, and being cleaned by bare 
 summer fallow or drilled turnips, according to the na- 
 ture of their soils respectively, or to the climate in which 
 they are situated, and other local circumstances. Plough- 
 ing the land at proper intervals will never reduce the 
 natural value of any land, provided the management in 
 the interim is well executed. 
 
 Land which has lain for a considerable time in grass, 
 is, in every situation, brought with difficulty into a pro- 
 per arable state ; because the roots of the natural grasses 
 retain such a hold of the soil, that artificial plants 
 cannot either thrive or prove productive, till the former 
 are completclv eradicated or destroyed. Tiiis difficulty^ 
 prevails in diff"erent degrees, according to the nature ol"
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 307 
 
 the soil cuUivaied; for, upon soils of a litjht or mellow 
 nature, grassroots may be destroyed willi greater facili- 
 ty, and rorii crops gained for a series of years at much 
 less expense than is practicable upon soils that arc com- 
 posed of clay, or incumbent upon a retentive bottom. 
 But, thouijh corn crops may, hi the first instance, be 
 easier cultivated upon some soils than upon others ; yet 
 no soil whatever can be successfully restored to grass in 
 a suitable manner, without being previously completely 
 summer fsvilowcd, or suflicienlly cleaned by a fallow crop, 
 according' to its nature, and other circumstances. It is 
 from neglecting these radical operations, that the con- 
 version of grass land to tillage so often proves injurious 
 both to proprietors and occupiers. The general rich- 
 ness of such lands, holds out a strong temptation to per- 
 sist in ploughing till the soil is completely possessed by 
 root weeds. In this state it is not one year of summer 
 fallow which will clean it effectually, and, of course, even 
 when that radical operation is administered, it too often 
 proves defective. What is worse, in many cases the 
 disposition of the soil to produce the natural grasses, 
 sometimes influences the possessors to continue the an- 
 cient practice of allowing it to seed itself; and, in others, 
 to dubb it with a thick covering of what is called hay 
 seeds, which are seldom calculated to stock the ground 
 with plants for returning a suitable produce. The good 
 husbandman will not, however, follow any of these plans. 
 He will fallow or clean the ground broke up from old 
 grass as early as possible, and the proper time is gene- 
 rally in the second year immediately after a crop of corn 
 has been taken. By taking one corn crop, which serves 
 to rot the surface grasses, and fallowing in the second 
 year, when these grasses are in a weak and debilitated 
 state, he can with ease put the ground in a husbandman- 
 like condition ; and, by fallowing a second time after 
 four or six crops of grain have been taken, the ground 
 will be brought into the most appropriate condition for 
 being seeded with grasses, and of producing double the 
 quantity of food for cattle or sheep as could be procured 
 from it previous to its renovation by tillage. 
 
 In order that our sentiments on these important mat- 
 ters may be perfectly comprehended, we are under the 
 necessity of entering at some length upon the several 
 processes requisite from breaking up the ground in the 
 first instance, till it is again restored to grass, and also 
 of speaking upon these processes as applicable to diffe- 
 rent soils ; for what is good management upon one 
 variety of soil, may deserve a different character when 
 applied to another. It is in such matters that theorists 
 rhielly act erroneously ; for, like the physician in the 
 play, these gentlemen too often bleed the westward, and 
 jalap the eastward, indiscriminately, without investiga- 
 ting the situation of the patient, or ascertaining whether 
 these remedies ought to be administered. 
 
 We shall first treat of clay soils, because this variety 
 prevails to a greater extent in Britain than any other ; 
 and with them may be included all these soils incumbent 
 upon a retentive bottom, and which of course may be 
 considered as too wet for allowing turnip husbandry to 
 be exercised with advantage. 
 
 Every variety of clay is difficult to cultivate, though, 
 in favourable seasons, under the management of an 
 expert cultivator, some of them are more productive 
 than the richest free soil. The grain produced upon 
 clay land is generally of good quality, and wheat may 
 be raised to a greater extent than is practicable upon 
 light lands. The management, however, of clays is 
 
 always expensive, and, in particular years, crops are 
 exposed to much liazard and danger. Hence, less rent 
 can be paid bom them in proportion to the gross value 
 of produce, than Irom soils of a less expensive and ha- 
 zardous nature. 
 
 No kind of soil reijuires to be oftencr renovated by 
 the plough than clay, espcciaiiy if it be of a thin nature. 
 The best grass is always obtained in the first year after 
 being sown down, while the roots arc creeping upon 
 the surface, and not obstructed by the poverty or steri- 
 lity of the sub-soil. Rich clays will progressively im- 
 prove while kept in grass, though in an inferior degree 
 to those soils of a drier and less obstinate nature. Hence, 
 the great propriety of exercising alternate husbandry 
 upon clay soils; in other words, of breaking them fre- 
 quently up with the plough, and restoring them again 
 to grass, after being cropped for five or six years. 
 
 When grass land of a clay soil is converted to tillage, 
 the first crop, in every case, ought to be oats ; then^ 
 being no other grain that forages so well, and conse- 
 quently makes a greater return of produce at the outset, 
 when the surface is obstinate, and the natural grasses 
 unsubdued. To procure a lull crop, both good plough- 
 ing and plentiful harrowing arc necessary. The plough 
 should go deep, lay the furrow well over, and at the 
 same time leave it with a strong shoulder, so that the 
 harrow may have a face to work upon. In harrowing, 
 the horses ought to be driven lengthwise, till the surface 
 is in some measure broken, when cross harrowing may 
 be resorted to. We have frequently seen old grass land 
 that required eight or nine double lines of harrows be- 
 fore it could be considered as in any thing like af.nished 
 state ; but this seldom happens, unless in seasons when 
 little frost is obtained, or where the surface is strongly 
 bound with grass roots, and other rubbish. 
 
 The most advantageous practice is to summer fallow 
 all such lands in the second year, and this practice is 
 decisively recommended as being most conducive to the 
 interest of the tenant, and the future management of 
 the ground. Repeated trials confirm the sentiments 
 formed on this point, and we are fully satisfied, that 
 heavy land cannot be brought uito a right cultivable 
 state, or corn crops successfully raised, unless this radi- 
 cal measure is resorted to. Besides, the grub-worm is 
 often a dangerous foe to corn crops on clay soils newly 
 broken up from grass, especially in the second and third 
 year, and indeed during every subsequent year till the 
 land is fallowed ; and we know no other method of ex- 
 tirpating this mischievous insect, btit repeatedly plough- 
 ing the ground in the summer months, or paring and 
 burning the surface. Another circumstance which ren- 
 ders an early fallow highly necessary, is the quantity of 
 thistles and other rubbish usually infesting grass land, 
 which, if allowed to remain uiidcstroyed, will eiTectually 
 prevent artificial crops from thriving. It may only be 
 added, that the fallow should be executed in the most 
 perfect style; perhaps seven or eight furrows maybe 
 required, with rolling, harrowing, and hand-picking, till 
 the soil is sufficiently cleaned and pulverized. A dressing 
 with lime will also be highly advantageous, as all old 
 grass land, when first ploughed, is eminently benefited 
 by calcareous matter. Dung will rarely be required in 
 the first instance, the quantity of animal and vegetable 
 substances accumulated in former years, being sufficient 
 for carrying on the growth of plants for a considerable 
 time. 
 
 If the several operations of fallowing are completed 
 
 Q q 2
 
 308 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 in due time, and tlic hcason be favourable, wheal may 
 be sown; but if circumstances prevent seed work troni 
 being executed lielbre the middle ol October, it will be 
 better to delay that process till the spring months, as 
 all land fresh broken up from grass, alter being com- 
 pletely wrought, is apt to throw out the young plants, 
 unless they are well rooted before the winter frosts set 
 in. From repeated trials, February is recommended 
 as a good month for sowing such lands, when a proper 
 autumnal season has been lost ; and, if it were not ior 
 the chance of missing good weather in tlic above month, 
 we should say, tnat the sowing of wheat upon tallows, 
 luider the circumstances described, ought always to be 
 delayed till the arrival of the spring quarter. 
 
 After wheat, beans drilled and horse-hoed are the 
 imost eligible third crop, as the work necessary will re- 
 store tne land to the same good condition in which it 
 was after being summer fallowed. Barley, with grass 
 seeds, may follow the beans; though, as grass seeds, 
 particularly clovers, seldom thrive well so easily upon 
 land which has been depastured for any length of time, 
 we are inclined to recommend a second wheat crop, 
 after which that sunmier fallow should be repeated ; 
 and if dung is applied in this stage, the ground will be 
 in excellent order for being seeded witli grass, whether 
 it is previously sown either with wheat or barley, both 
 these grains being good forerunners of grass seeds. 
 
 According to the above plan, we are certain that there 
 is not a piece of old grass land m the island but what 
 may be safely broken up, provided the several operations 
 are executed in a husbandman-likc manner. Nay, what 
 is better, we are almost confident that such land, after 
 being renovated by the plough, would carry more grass 
 than it did before aration was introduced ; while, in the 
 time it remained under tillage, weighty crops of corn 
 might be obtained at no greater expense than called 
 for by the arable husbandry of the old ploughed lands. 
 Further, as the old arable lands are worn out and ex- 
 hausted by perpetual tillage, the breaking up of the old 
 grass land would furnish an opportunity for laying down 
 the other with grass seeds, and restoring them to pri- 
 mitive vigour. In tliis way a very large part of British 
 soil might be doubled in value ; at least the quantity of 
 grass and corn raised thereupon niight be vastly in- 
 creased, and a full supply of the necessaries of life pro- 
 cured for the people, without being dependent upon 
 other nations, as Britain for many years has been, for 
 wheat, oats, tallow, butter, cheese, flax, and hemp, arti- 
 cles which must be imported under the present state 
 of British agriculture ; though it is obvious, that the 
 whole of them might be cultivated and produced at 
 home, were due attention bestowed upon the resources 
 of the country. 
 
 We have now stated our sentiments respecting the 
 best mode of managing clay soils recently broken up 
 from old grass, and described some of the numerous 
 advantages which the country would derive were old 
 grass land of this kind brought under alternate husban- 
 dry. It shall now be our business to speak of other soils, 
 particularly loams, which being naturally most congenial 
 to the growth of grass, may be considered as the soil of 
 the great majority of the old grass land. 
 
 Loam consists of several varieties, according to the 
 quantity of manure bestowed in former times, and the 
 nature of the subsoil on which it is incumbent. Heavy 
 loam must be treated in every respect as if it were a 
 clay, because it is disqualified by nature from carrying 
 
 a crop of turnips with advantage ; but light loams, Cjr 
 those placed ujjon a dry bottom, are very fit for turnip 
 husbandry, and therelore may be included with gruvcls 
 and sands, because a similar rotation may be practibed, 
 though no doubt with different uegrees ol succcsb. 
 
 When any of these varieties are broken up Irorn old 
 grass, the succeedhig rotation ought to Ue oats, barley, 
 turnips, spring whea, or barley, according to llie time 
 that the turnips are consumed. Witn eitiier ol tiicsc 
 last mentioned grains, grasses ought to be sown, wiiich 
 may remain for one year, when wheat may be taken, 
 and the rotation commence again with a turnip crop. 
 It is proper, however, to explain why barley is recom- 
 mended as the second crop of the first rotation, because 
 such a recommendation is contrary to the rules Oi alter- 
 nate husbandry, which, in general cases, we wish should 
 be steadily adhered lo. Every person acquainted with 
 the breaking up of old grass land, must be aware that 
 the surface grass and roots of different kinds, which all 
 land long under grass is apt to produce, will not be 
 destroyed by the culture given to the first crop, and of 
 course be sensible of the trouble and difficulty which 
 attends the working of such land in the second year. 
 In most instances, when reduced by harrowing, the land 
 may be said to be covered with such a quantity of grass 
 roots, as to render it totally unfit for carrying a crop of 
 turnips ; but, if barley is taken as a second crop, the 
 greatest part of these roots will be destroyed by the 
 weight of the crop, while the soil will be greatly enriched 
 by their destruction. It is obvious, that couch grass or 
 quickens are not included in this description, for such 
 are not to be destroyed in this way, but must be ga- 
 thered by the hand, otherwise the ground would suffer 
 considerably. It is the roots of ordinary pasture grasses 
 which are alluded to, and these undoubtedly may be 
 brought to a state of putrefaction in the way above de- 
 scribed. 
 
 It may not be improper to state, that barley on old 
 grass land, unless lime is applied, is usually inferior in 
 quality to what is produced upon old cultivated land, 
 and of course yields a smaller produce than what the 
 appearance or bulk of the crop upon the ground would 
 seem to indicate. In fact, barley of good quality is 
 not to be obtained without an application of calcareous 
 matter. 
 
 The third crop which ought to be taken, is turnips 
 drilled, and completely hand and horse hoed. This root 
 may now be raised with success, as any of the surface 
 grasses which may remain in life after the barley crop, 
 will be weak and feeble, and easily destroyed by the 
 work given to the turnip crop. The intervals of the 
 drills ought not to be less tlian 30 inches, which will 
 admit horse labour with effect, and probably secure a 
 weightier crop than could be gained from narrower in- 
 tervals. The seed ought to be sown tolerably thick, 
 perhaps not less than 31b. per acre, and the plants set 
 out at 8, 10, or 12 inches from each other, according to 
 the earliness of the season, state of the weather, fertility 
 of the soil, and other circumstances. 
 
 If turnips are consumed at a proper time, say by the 
 first of March, spring wheat may be taken as the fourth 
 crop, provided the weather pennits the land to be duly 
 harrowed ; but failing wheat, barley may be substituted 
 in its place. If tlie ground is ridged up as tlie turnips 
 are consumed, wheat may be sown eveiy day, taking 
 care to protect it from rooks and pigeons, who, at that 
 season, often occasion considerable damage. Wheat may
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 ;o9 
 
 be sown with safety upon well prcpai'cd land till the end 
 ol March, but so iate a time cuni.oi he lecoiiiniencled 
 as a general practice. Grass seeds to he sown wiiaiever 
 grain may he cultivated, and the land to be afterwards 
 pastured lor one or more years, as cncumslances may 
 render necessary. Wiien broken up a second time, 
 oats, beans, and wiieat, may follow in succession, and 
 the rotation be concluded. 
 
 As many old giass lands consist of what is culled Jen 
 «o;V, atew woi-ds may be necessary on this branch ot the 
 subject. Fen land is generally incumbent upon clay or 
 moss. If upon the lornier, they, are a valuable concern, 
 alter being drained ; but if incumbent upon moss, it is 
 scarcely practicable to drain them in a complete manner. 
 In drainuig clay fens, which is necessary betore they can 
 be duly cultivated, the preliminary business is to cut off 
 all the water that issues from the adjoining tiigher 
 grounds, whether flowing from springs, or falling from 
 the clouds. This being attained, the deepness of the 
 fen ought first to be ascertained, which, in a great mea- 
 sure, will point out the number and dimension of the 
 drains that are required. The most accurate levels 
 ought also to be taken, as any defect here will injui'e 
 all the subsequent operations. These preliminary steps 
 bemg executed, a main drain or drains, according to 
 the extent of the fen, should be digged, into which the 
 water from the smaller drains may be disgorged. The 
 number and size of the small drains must be propor- 
 tioned to the quantity of water accumulated in the fen, 
 and by the deeppess of the surface soil ; but the safe 
 extreme- is, to increase the size and number of the 
 drains ; for, if limited or superficial, the whole business 
 must prove abortive. The mam drain or drains may 
 be arched with brick, but land stones will do best for 
 filling the smaller ones, or brush-wood might be used 
 ill case stones cannot be procured. When the fen is 
 in this way laid completely dry, ploughing may be at- 
 tempted, which is commonly severe work at the outset. 
 It is proper to take two crops of oats in succession, in 
 order that the strong sward of all fen lands may be rot- 
 ted. A complete summer fallow, with a strong dose of 
 lime, is then necessary. In this manner, the valuable 
 matter deposited for ages in all fen soils, may be brought 
 into action, and abundant crops of grain and grass in 
 consequence procured. Evei-y thing, however, depends 
 upon putting and preserving the land in a dry state, 
 which will not be difficult, if the intercepting drain and 
 the main leader or leaders are kept in good condition. 
 
 Having now shown the most appropriate methods of 
 introducing alternate husbandry into tliose districts 
 where old grass is prevalent, it remains to give a ge- 
 neral statement concerning the'advantagcs which might 
 reasonably be expected from its introduction. 
 
 The first, and certainly a very important advantage, 
 resulting from ploughing old grass land, is, that a full 
 supply of the necessaries of life would be obtained by 
 the public, in consequence of that measure. It is com- 
 puted, by those versant in such inquiries, that good 
 pasture land does not furnish above 12 stones (I6lb. 
 avoirdupois each) of beef or mutton per acre /icr annum, 
 above the weight of the animal or animals vvhen laid 
 upon the grass; which, upon the supposition tliat a 
 healthy person requires one and a half pound per day 
 to support him, would be consumed exa.ctly in one hiiii- 
 dred and twenty-eisylit days. If this land, however, is 
 converted into tillage, more than triple the number 
 
 may be fed upon its produce, as will appear from the 
 lollowing calculations. Suppose the crop to be only six 
 quarters per acre, wliich is a low estimate upon the 
 lands under consideration, and that four bushels are re- 
 quired for seed, and six buslieis to the liorses employ- 
 ed, there remains a disposable quantity of four quarters, 
 six bushels, which, at the average weight of four hun- 
 dred pounds per quarter, gives nineteen hundred pounds 
 weight of bread corn for the use of the people. If we 
 shall estimate that one-fourth of that weiglit goes for 
 pollard, seeds, or waste in the manufacturing, which is 
 a great allowance, the remainder amounts to fourteen 
 hundred and twenty-five pounds weight of meal or flour 
 to be used for bread and other purposes, which, at three 
 pounds weight per head, per day, will supply the con- 
 sunqjtion of 475 people for one day, instead of 128, who 
 procured food for the same time, from the beef or mut- 
 ton produced upon an acre of grass land. The compa- 
 rison would still be more striking, were it extended to 
 potatoes and other esculents, which, of course, would 
 form a part of every rotation, were convertible hus- 
 bandry introduced. 
 
 But it may be alleged, that a general introduction of 
 the alternate husbandry would occasion a scarcity of 
 butcher meat, and that an exchange of difficulties would 
 be the consequence of adopting the system recommend- 
 ed. To this it may be answered, that, if alternate hus- 
 bandry were practised, the quantity of butcher meat 
 would be immediately increased, to the great advantage 
 both of the public and individuals. After what has al- 
 ready been repeatedly urged in this article, it need 
 hardly be stated, that a considerable quantity of land in 
 England is oppressed by the plough, and that a very 
 great improvement would be accomplished, were it 
 rested and hivigorated under pasture, after being com- 
 pletely summer fallowed, and laid down with suitable 
 grass seeds. If the like quantity of this old tillage land 
 was annually sown with grass seeds, as was broken up 
 from old pasture, perhaps one fourth more cattle and 
 sheep might be fed for the butcher than is practicable 
 under the present system. None but thdse who have 
 tried it, can be sensible of the vast improvement made 
 by grazing old ploughed land. If one million of acres 
 of old tillage land were sown down in a gradual man- 
 ner, and the like extent ol old pasture broken up, it is 
 probable that an additional annual supply, not less than 
 two million of stones of beef and mutton, and three mil- 
 lions of quarters of grain, would be thrown into the 
 public market. In short, were alternate husbandry ge- 
 nerally exercised in Britain, we are satisfied, that dou- 
 ble the extent of its present population might, with 
 case, be maintained ; and this might be proved in the 
 most satisfactory manner, by an appeal to the quantity 
 of grain and butcher meat produced upon these farms, 
 where that system has been adopted and followed. 
 
 Another advantage of great magnitude would neces- 
 sarily be obtained, were the old pasture lands con- 
 verted to tillage, THZ. the immense quantitv of manures 
 which would thereby be furnished for enriching the 
 poorer soils, and ameliorating the old tillage fields, be- 
 fore they were laid down with grass seeds. Every 
 three acres of old grass land broken up, would, with 
 ease, furnish dung for one acre ; consequently the 
 ploughing of one million of acres would return dung 
 for three hundred and thirty-three thousand acres of 
 barren or unproductive land, fier atinum, for three or
 
 310 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 four years al'tcrwarcls. An additional increase of one 
 quarter and a half of produce might reasonably be ex- 
 cxpected to follow from the manure thus afforded to the 
 unproductive lands, while the original stock of manure, 
 like money vested at compound interest, would accumu- 
 late and increase from year to year, till the country was 
 improved to the greatest degree v hich physical circum- 
 stances permitted. 
 
 ■\Ve have been more particular upon this branch of 
 our subject, than at firsi sight may seem to be neces- 
 sary ; but analtenlive examination of the rural economy 
 of the sister kingdom convinced us, that the exclusive 
 system generally followed, was attended with efl'ccts 
 pernicious and destructive to the public interest. At 
 the same time, as the great body of farmers in every 
 district are more defective in the management of land 
 newly broken up from grass, than in any other branch 
 of practice, it occurred, that too much, it it was right 
 said, could not be urged in elucidation of the several 
 processes which ought to be executed, when converti- 
 ble husbandry is introduced. 
 
 We cannot close this branch of our subject, without 
 urging the utility and advantage of conjoining live stock 
 and corn together, and of making the management of 
 the one subservient to the growth of the other. How- 
 ever much the general system of agriculture may have 
 been amended of late years, there are comparatively 
 few arable lands where double the quantity of live stock 
 might not be kept, without lessening the annual pro- 
 duce of grain. By a proper combination of green crops, 
 such as tares and clover for summer, turnips for wni- 
 tcr, and potatoes and ruta baga for spring, the tillage 
 farmer may fatten a quantity of stock equal to the gra- 
 zier. No doubt a considerable capital is required to 
 set such a system on foot, besides a good deal of trou- 
 ble in its execution ; but these are indispensable requi- 
 sites in every improved system. What we chielly con- 
 tcnd for is, that alternate husbandry is most beneficial 
 to cultivators, and to the public ; that a farm managed 
 according to its rules will yield a greater quantity of 
 produce than if any other system is adopted ; that if one 
 half of the farm is kept under artificial grasses, and 
 other green crops, as much live stock may be support- 
 ed and fattened upon their produce as if the whole farm 
 was kept in old pasture ; and that the other half, from 
 the large quantity of dung produced from the consump- 
 tion of green crops, will furnish as much disposable 
 produce for supplying the market, as if the whole farm 
 had been kept in a regular sequence of corn crops. All 
 these advantages may be gained from a conjunction of 
 titock and corn husbandry ; and it is from this conjunc- 
 tion that the superiority of British over Continental hus- 
 bandry, already illustrated in another Chapter, chiefly 
 proceeds. 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 On Live Stock. 
 
 Though horses, neat cattle, sheep, and swine, are of 
 equal importance to the British farmer with corn crops, 
 yet we have few treatises concerning these animals, 
 compared with the immense number that have been 
 written on the management of arable land, or the crops 
 produced upon it. Whether this difference of attention 
 proceeds from an erroneous preference of the plough, 
 or whether it is owing to the ignorance of agricultu- 
 
 rists respecting the properties of live stock, wc shall not 
 stop to consider. The fact is, however, as we have 
 stated it ; though, according to the present improved 
 system of farming, there is such a connexion between 
 the cultivation of the ground and the breeding, rearing, 
 and fattening of domestic animals, that the one cannot 
 be neglected without injuiy to the otncr. 
 
 Though so little has been written concerning the do- 
 mestic animals of Britain, it deserves to be remarked, 
 that the improvement of those animals has not been ne- 
 glected ; on the contrary, it has been studied like a sci- 
 ence, and carried into execution with the most sedulous 
 attention and dexterity. We wish it could be stated, 
 that one half of the care had been applied to the select- 
 ing and breeding of wheat and other grains, which has 
 been displayed in selecting and breeding the best pro- 
 portioned and most kindly feeding sheep. A comparison 
 cannot, however, be made with the slightest degree of 
 success; the exertions of the sheep-farmers having, in 
 every point of view, far exceeded what has been done by 
 the renters of arable land. Even with cattle, considera- 
 ble improvement has taken place. With horses, those 
 of the racing kind excepted, there has been little im- 
 provement ; and as to swine, an animal of great benefit 
 to the farmer, in consuming offal which v.ould other- 
 wise be of no value, matters remain pretty much on their 
 former footing. 
 
 Having made these general remarks, we proceed to 
 illustrate the several Sections of this Chapter. These, 
 of course, are limited to the four kinds of animals al- 
 ready mentioned; and on each of these we shall treat at 
 some length, considering the live stock of Britain to be 
 a subject of vast importance to the national welfare, 
 when the demand for horses is so extensive, and a full 
 supply of butcher meat so necessary for public comfort 
 and luxury. 
 
 Sect. I. 
 
 Of Horses. 
 
 MrCuUcy is of opinion, that there are three distuict 
 breeds ol horses in the island, viz. the heavy Blacks, the 
 Racers, and the Shetland Ponies. We should suspect, 
 however, that there are many more, though it is not 
 easy to say any thing about the origin of these breeds, 
 and whether they have been occasioned by crosses at 
 different periods, till a new breed, or variety was actually 
 produced. The horses in the low-counti-y districts of 
 Scotland are evidently of many breeds ; and from what 
 we have seen in England, the breeds are innumerable; 
 and in shape, size, action, and other properties, are as 
 incongruous and separate as the breeds of sheep in the 
 different districts. What a difference, for instance, is 
 there between the Suffolk Punches and the Cleveland 
 Bays ? If the latter are compared with the Northamp- 
 tonshire horses, it can hardly be said that there is the 
 slightest affinity, as to size, shape, and action; and the 
 most that can be advanced is, that both belong to the 
 tribe of animals called horses. Again, view the Welch 
 horses, a hardy breed, no doubt, though of a size capa- 
 ble of being contained in the inside of the Northampton- 
 shire animal. In short, so many breeds prevail in the 
 island, and these are so frittered down and intermixed, 
 that it is hardly practicable to distinguish the source 
 from which each proceeded. That there are good 
 horses in all breeds, is indisputable ; and the object of
 
 AGRICULTUliE. 
 
 HI 
 
 the farmer is therefore to select such as are best qualified 
 for the uses to which ihey arc to be appropriated. For tlic 
 plough, both strength and agility are required ; a dash 
 of blood, therefore, is not disadvantageous. 
 
 It is not size that confers strength, tlie largest horses 
 being often soonest worn out. A clever step, an easy 
 movement, and a good temper, are qualities of the great- 
 est importance to a working horse; and tlie possession 
 of them is of more avail than big bones, long legs, and 
 a lumpy carcass. To feed well is also a property of 
 great value ; and this property, as all judi^cs know, de- 
 pends much upon the shape of the barrel, deepness of 
 chest, strength of back, and size of the hips or hooks 
 with which the animal is furnished. If straight in the 
 back, and not over short, high in the ribs, and with hooks 
 close and round, the animal is generally hardy, capable 
 of undergoing a great deal of fatigue, without lessening 
 his appetite, or impairing his working powers; whereas 
 horses that arc sharp pointed, flat ribbed, hollow backed, 
 and wide set in the hooks, are usually bad feeders, and 
 soon done up when put to hard work The moment that 
 a horse loses appetite, he must suffer by hard labour; 
 it is therefore a matter of serious consideration to breed 
 only from the hardy and well-proportioned tribes; these 
 being supported at the least expense, and eapable of 
 undergoing without injury, a degree of labour which 
 would disable those of a different constitution. 
 
 The value of horses being now much more augment- 
 ed than that of other animals, it appears that greater en- 
 couragement is thereby offered for breeding the best 
 sorts than was formerly the case, and that regular breed- 
 ing farms would be of benefit to the public, and advan- 
 tageous to those concerned in them. Hitherto, it has 
 been usual to work breeding mares through the greatest 
 part of the year, laying them aside only for a week or 
 two before foaling, and during the summer season, 
 when giving suck to the young foal. In this way, the 
 strength and vigour of the motlier is not only weakened, 
 but the size and powers of the foal stand a great chance 
 of being diminished, by the exertions of the mother 
 when kept at work. Under these impressions, we are 
 led to consider the working of breeding mares as an 
 unprofitable practice. Were they suflered to remain at 
 case, 10 roam upon coarse pastures, where shades were 
 erected in which they might find shelter during incle- 
 ment weather, we arc almost certain that their progeny 
 would cuter upon action with increased abilities. The 
 expense of a brceduig mare kept in this way would not 
 be great, while the advantages would be innumerable. 
 But were the expense even greater than is incurred in 
 the ordinary way, the superiority of the stock thus pro- 
 duced, would much more than compensate it. A pound 
 of horse-flesh is more than double the value of that of 
 neat cattle and sheep; and being as easily reared and 
 produced as the others, great encouragement is thus 
 offered for carrying on the breeding trade as a separate 
 establishment. It is highly inconvenient for corn far- 
 mers to want the use of any part of their working stock 
 during the summer season; the plan, therefore, that we 
 have recommended, seems well calculated to avoid every 
 inconvenience of this nature, and to place the breedhig 
 trade upon a proper footing. In short, we are satisfied, 
 that unless some such plan is adopted, breeding can 
 never succeed in the arable districts, though it is evi- 
 dently in the power of every farmer so situated to breed 
 horses with the same facility as he breeds cattle and 
 sheep, were the like measures resorted to. 
 
 Horses arc generally put to work when five years of 
 age, though it is probable they might be worked a year 
 sooner, were the same attention paid to their keeping 
 as is bestowed by tlie improved breeders of cattle and 
 sheep. We are not advocates for giving nuich grain to 
 yomig horses, thinking it expensive, and not so condu- 
 cive to their health as when they are supported on green 
 food. In the winter and spring montlis, a few turnips 
 are eminently beneficial to young horses, by keeping 
 their blood in good order, swelling their bone, and has- 
 tening their growth. A plentiful supply of grass in 
 summer ought always to be allowed, as their condition 
 through the winter depends greatly upon that circum- 
 stance. It is an object deserving of attention, that flesh 
 once gained ought never to be lost, but that every ani- 
 mal whatever should be kept in a progressive state of 
 improvement, and not suflered to take a retrogiade 
 course, which afterwards must be made up by extra 
 feeding, or a loss be sustained, in direct proportion to 
 the degree of retrogradation that has actually occurred.., 
 
 The diseases of horses are numerous, generally vio- 
 lent, soon reaching a crisis, and often mortal, unless ta- 
 ken at the beginning. The most fatal of these arc dis- 
 orders provincially called baia, or colics, arising, in nine 
 cases out often, from an accumulation of excrement in 
 the intestines. The symptoms of this disorder scarcely 
 require description ; cold dew at the car-roots and 
 flanks, frequent pointing to the seat of complaint, and a 
 desire to lie down and roll; sudden rising, a great agi- 
 tation. To obtain a cure requires prompt and vigorous 
 measures, and plenty ol assistants to conduct them. A 
 separate stable or out-house, well littered with straw, is 
 necessary, so that the horse may have room to roll him- 
 self wdthout injury. A man should attend the head, that 
 it be not beat against the pavement or wall; another to 
 rub the belly at every quiet interval, which is a more 
 ettectual help than is generally imagined. Bleed in the 
 neck veins, if possible ; and whilst medical remedies arc 
 preparing, walk the horse about, but do not, on any pre- 
 tence, drive him so fast as to harass him. Back rake 
 with a small hand, well oiled, and give the common gruel 
 glyster of oil and salt; pour down by the mouth some 
 gruel, mixed with a glass or two of Geneva, and half an 
 ounce of beat saltpetre ; keep the horse on his legs, if 
 possible, and exercise him in a moderate manner. These 
 remedies are generally successful, when applied hi time, 
 but a few hours' delay is commonly fatal; the poor ani- 
 mal generally falling a sacrifice to this dreadful and ex- 
 cruciating disorder. 
 
 The flatulent, or wind colic, is known by a great ful- 
 ness and tension of the belly, from rarefaction of the air 
 contained in the intestines, and frequently by the stran- 
 guary occasioned by the pressure of the straight gut 
 upon the neck of the bladder: this last is denoted by 
 the horse rolling on his back, and attempting to stale. 
 The method of cure plainly consists in a speedy admi- 
 nistering of diuretic and laxative medicines, both in the 
 form of glysters, and by the mouth. Opiates for allay- 
 ing the pain may also be used ; but much attention is 
 required for regulating the quantity, and hitting the 
 critical period when they should be administered. If 
 the opiate is too weak, the pain will be augmented ; and 
 if too powerful, death will be hastened. Another species 
 of colic is the inflammatory, or red one, supposed to 
 originate in some internal injury, brought on by over- 
 strained exertion. The flatulent, or spasmodic colic, is 
 by far the most frequent with horses ; and it is in treat-
 
 H2 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 iniv this apetictt, that common farriers do most mischief. 
 In fact, to ascertain the specific disorder, and find out 
 tlie proper remedies, requires a ijrcater share of knou- 
 ledge and judgment than usually belongs to common 
 farriers. To learn veterinary science require.s years of 
 study, an intimate knowledge of anatomy, and a great 
 deal of practice ; and to the want of these requisites 
 may be attributed the general ignorance of country 
 pi actitioncrs. 
 
 We have mentioned the prominent diseases which cut 
 oft" horses ; but were we to analyse and describe the ca- 
 talogue of disorders to which that useful animal is ex- 
 posed, this article would be swoln beyond the limits 
 assigned to it. It may, however, be added, that cold, or 
 catarrh, seems to be the pro.Kimate cause of them. 
 This cold is citiier general or epidemic, producing lever, 
 glanders, rhcunialism, asthma, broken wind, pleurisy, 
 and often disorders in the intestines. To avoid the 
 proximate cause of these evils, regular treatment seems 
 to be the surest course. Tne kind of treatment which 
 deserves this character is, never to heat nor fatigue 
 horses more than is necessary ; and if they are at any 
 time over-heated and fatigued, to cool them in a gra- 
 dual manner, rubbing them well down, so that perspira- 
 tion may not be obstructed, and administering a warm 
 mash ot boiled food, so that the iiilestijies may be kept 
 open, and the consequent disorders avoided. The horse 
 is a most useful animal, and deserves to be treated with 
 every degree of care. Laying that consideration aside, 
 it is an object of importance to every farmer, to have 
 his working stock preserved in a sound, healthy, and 
 able condition, as his prosperity and success depend, in 
 some measure, upon their capability of performing rural 
 labour with despatch. To be often in the market, is an 
 expensive trade ; and the only way to avoid it is to feed 
 horses regularly, and to exceed as seldom as possible 
 their ordinary working hours. Good stable manage- 
 ment is also of essential service to promote the health 
 of the animals ; and this every farmer should attend to 
 with a degree of diligence proportional to the concomi- 
 tant advantages. 
 
 Sect. II. 
 
 On JVeat Cattle. 
 
 Of this species of domestic animals we have various 
 breeds, though the whole may be arranged into four 
 classes: 1. The short horned; 2. The long horned, or 
 Lancashire ; 3. The Galloway, or polled breed ; 4. The 
 Kyloes, or Highland breed. Though the several breeds 
 may with propriety be classed in this way, yet it must 
 not be understood that the breeds so classed are in every 
 respect alike in size, shape, and disposition to fatten. 
 In each of these circumstances, the last-mentioned class 
 in particular arc widely different ; for the West High- 
 land cattle have separate properties from those reared 
 in the Northern districts ; while again tliere is a wide 
 distinction between both these and the breed which pre- 
 vails in the shires of Banff and Aberdeen. The very 
 texture and appearance of the perfect article are dissi- 
 milar; though these things may depend as much upon 
 the mode of feeding when young, as upon the original 
 constitution of the animal. 
 
 On Short-horned Cattle. 
 
 There is reason to suppose, that short-horned cattle 
 are not a nati\e breed of Britain, but one imported^from 
 
 the continent; because they arc chiefly found on the 
 easte-n coast, and because in many places tiicy retain at 
 this day the name of Dutch cattle. This breed differs 
 from others in the shortness of their horns, and in being 
 wider and thicker in their form or mould, consequent!/ 
 feeding to the most weight, and yielding the greatest 
 quantity of tallow. With regard to constitution, they 
 are not so hardy as the long-horned cattle, being thinner 
 in the skin or hide, and reciuiring better food. They 
 excel, however, in three valuable particulars, viz. in af- 
 fording the greatest quantity of beef, butter, and milk. 
 This breed, however, like all otliers, is better or worse 
 in different districts, according to the attention ol the 
 breeders. In Lincolnshire they are in general more 
 subject to Iyer or black flesh than they are in the dis- 
 tricts which lie farther to the north ; and this evil was 
 originally introduced by an importation of a bad sort of 
 bulls from Holland, by persons who desired to improve 
 the breed, but were not possessed of the skill Uiat is re- 
 quisite for making a suitable selection. The country on 
 both sides of the river Tecs contains the short-hohied 
 breed in perfection. The usual management there, is 
 to give hay and turnip the first winter, coarse pasture 
 through thf following summer, straw in the fold-yard, 
 and a few turnips in the second winter, good pasture in 
 the second summer, and as many turnips as they can 
 eat in the third winter, when they are treated in every 
 respect as fattening cattle. 
 
 The Sussex, Hereford, and Devon cattle, are varieties 
 of the short -horned breed, though probably with a little 
 dash of the Lancashire kind. They are generally of a 
 red colour, fine in the bone, clean in the neck, horns 
 bent upwards, generally well made in the hind-quarters, 
 wide across the hips, rump, and sirloin, but narrow on 
 the chine. These breeds are often used for work, and, 
 when six or seven years of ag>e, are turned off for 
 feeding. 
 
 On the La7uashire, or long-horned Cattle. 
 
 The Lancashii-e, or long-horned breed, is distinguish- 
 ed from every other by length of horns, thickness of 
 skin, large size of hoof, and coarseness of neck. They 
 are deeper in the fore, and lighter in the hind quarter, 
 than other breeds; likewise narrower in shape, and 
 less in point of weight, than the short-horned, though 
 better weigh.rs in proportion to their size. Cows of 
 this kind are not good milkers ; but the milk which they 
 produce yields cream in greater abundance, and of a 
 richer quality, than what is got from short-horned cows. 
 
 It has been generally imagined, that long horned cat- 
 tle are the native or original breed of the island ; but this 
 is a matter which cannot be ascertained. Lancashire, 
 and the western parts of Yorkshire, have long been con- 
 sidered as the mother district of this breed, though novy 
 spread over many of the midland counties. Long horn- 
 ed cattle, however, are usually viewed as dull feeders ; 
 and, when used in the dairy, give less milk tlian the 
 short horned kind. By Mr Bakewell and others, much 
 improvement was made in long homed cattle. That 
 enterprising and judicious breeder, searched the north- 
 ern district for the best bulls, as he did Lancashire for 
 rams; and owing to his exertions, something like a 
 new breed was created. This variety differs from other 
 long horned cattle, in having very fine, clean, small 
 bones in their legs, and thinner hides. They are also of 
 less size, and rounder in the carcass tlian the old long
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 3L 
 
 hOJticd breed, which generally were ill formed, big bon- 
 ed, flat ribbed, and in short a very unsightly sort of 
 cattle. 
 
 On the Polled, or Galloway Cattle. 
 
 The Galloway cattle, though less in weight than 
 those already treated of, sell higher in Smithfield mar- 
 ket, per stone, than any other breed, owing to the fat 
 being laid upon the most valuable parts ; which seems 
 to be a quality of tlie greatest excellence, when the va- 
 lue of feeding cattle is to be ascertained. As their 
 name denotes, they are without horns ; a circumstance 
 which puzzled the learned Dr Johnson, who was greatly 
 at a loss whether to assign the deficiency to a natural or 
 an artificial cause. The hides of this breed are not so 
 thick as those of the long-horned, nor so thin as those of 
 the short-horned breed; but their beef is well marbled 
 or mixed with fat, and therefore, in point of quality, 
 much superior to that of either. Hence the demand 
 for Galloway cattle is always very considerable ; and it 
 is no uncommon thing to see one of these little bullocks 
 cell for as much money in Smithfield as a Lincolnshire 
 ox of double its weight. The cows of this breed are 
 good milkers, and the milk which they yield is of a very 
 rich quality. Several unsuccessful attempts have been 
 made to amend this breed, by crossing with bulls from 
 other counties ; but the result has satisfactorily shown, 
 that the real original polled breed can only be preserved 
 in perfection by selecting bulls at home, of the best figure 
 and properties. By these attempts, the breed has, in 
 some respects, been injured ; though there is little 
 doubt but that the measures recently taken will soon 
 restore it to its original purity and perfection. 
 
 The Suffolk duns are said to be a variety of the Gal- 
 loway breed. Cows of this kind are particularly calcu- 
 lated for dairy management, giving a great quantity of 
 milk, and producing butter of the finest quality. Suf- 
 folk butter is well known to be the richest in the island ; 
 though it is a curious circumstance, that the cheese of 
 that district is the poorest of any made in the whole 
 kingdom of Great Britain. 
 
 On the Kyloe, or Highland Breed. 
 
 The variety of this breed which prevails in Argyle- 
 shire, and several of the Western islands, has all the 
 properties possessed by the Galloway cattle, so far as re- 
 spects the quality of beef; though, having horns, a 
 rougher pile or coat of hair, and being differently pro- 
 portioned, they are evidently a distinct breed. The 
 Argyleshire cattle of the right sort always sell nearly as 
 high as the Galloways, and are much in demand with 
 those who fatten well, or wish to present the best stock 
 in the public market. For private use none are better 
 calculated, the coarse parts being inconsiderable, and 
 the principal pieces, when duly fattened, of the finest 
 quality, and delicious to the appetite ; while, from small- 
 ness of bone, the quantity of offal or waste is altogether 
 trifling. 
 
 The Northern breeds of cattle are neither so valuable 
 with regard to an equal weight of the perfect article ; 
 nor are they so clever feeders, even when put on the 
 same pastures. Perhaps this arises from their being 
 stunted in growth at the outset, and limited as to winter 
 feeding during the time they are kept at home, till of 
 
 Voc. I. Part I. 
 
 sufficient age for being sold to llic grazier, who is to 
 fatten them. The prevalent colour of Kyloes is black ; 
 and it may be renrarked, that those of every other colour, 
 black-brown, or what is called berried excepted, arc 
 generally bad feeders, tender and delicate in constitu- 
 tion; and never purchased by good judges of cattle 
 when they can be avoided. Innumerable are the cattle 
 of the Kyloe sort every year brought southward ; and 
 when properly wintered, and afterwards put upon good 
 pasture through the summer months, it is wonderful to 
 what a size they will grow, and to what a degree of fat- 
 ness they may be carried. They arc always sure, when 
 fat, to sell in the public market in preference to the 
 large breeds ; and this of itself affords great encourage* 
 ment to the purchasers. 
 
 The Aberdeen and Banffshire cattle are the next va- 
 riety of the Kyloe, or Highland breed, which is to be 
 treated of. In these counties the size of cattle is larger, 
 probably occasioned by the superior keep given when 
 they arc young ; which no doubt swells the bones of the 
 animals, and increases their size. A good many turnips 
 are raised in these districts, and by the use of that root 
 the cattle are certainly highly benefited. This sort is 
 undoubtedly the best for wintering in the straw-yard, be- 
 cause few of the others have been accustomed to this 
 mode of treatment, being generally suffered to roam at 
 large upon the hills for the greatest part of the season, 
 and only brought home during severe storms, when food 
 cannot be procured in the open field. The Aberdeen 
 and Banfl'shire cattle, however, are seldom treated in 
 that way ; hence they are well calculated for winter- 
 ing in the low country districts, and, if well chosen, 
 either for feeding upon the pastures, or for receiving 
 cutting grass in the fold-yard during the succeeding 
 summer. 
 
 Several other kinds of Scots cattle might be mention- 
 ed, particularly the Fifeshire breed, which would seem 
 to be a kind of cross betwixt the Kyloes and the south 
 country breeds. The Fife cattle have upright white 
 horns, are thin-thighed, light-lyered, and excellent feed- 
 ers. It appears from Dr Thomson's excellent Sicr\iey of' 
 ■Fife, that they are highly esteemed in Smithfield mar- 
 ket, where they bid fair to rival the Galloway cattle ; a 
 circumstance which affords a good proof of their intrin- 
 sic quality being high in the scale of public opinion. 
 Other kinds might be mentioned, particularly the Alder- 
 ney or French cattle ; but so few of these are kept in 
 Britain, that it is not worth while to enter upon a de- 
 scription of them. Suflice it to say, that any of this 
 breed which have come under our notice, are of so ten- 
 der and delicate a constitution, that we venture to pre- 
 dict that the breed will never become prevalent in Great 
 Britain. 
 
 Sect. III. 
 
 On Sheefi. 
 
 Of all the domestic animals, sheep are of the greatest 
 consequence, both to the nation and to the farmer; be- 
 cause they can be reared in situations, and upon soils, 
 where other animals would not live ; and, in general, 
 afford greater profit than can be obtained either from the 
 rearing or feeding of cattle. The very fleece shorn 
 annually from their backs is of itself a matter worthy of 
 consideration, affording a partial return not to be ob- 
 tained from any other kind of stock. Wool has long 
 Rr
 
 314 
 
 AGKICULTURE. 
 
 been the staple commodity of this island, giving bread 
 to thousands who are eniployed in nianiitaclurini!; it hilo 
 innumerable articles for home cunsumption, and Foreign 
 exportation. In every point ol' view, sheep liusbandry 
 deserves to be esteemed as a chief branch of rural eco- 
 nomy, and claims the utmost attention of agriculturists. 
 For many years back it has been studied with a degree 
 of diligence and assiduity not inferior to its merits ; 
 and the result has been, that this branch of rural ma- 
 nagement has reached a degree of perfection honoura- 
 ble to those who exercised it, and highly advantageous 
 to the public. 
 
 The varieties of sheep spread over the island of Great 
 Britain are so numerous, that it is hardly witliin the 
 power of the greatest connoisseur to class them regu- 
 larly, or to illustriite their different properties. Every 
 useful purpose, however, may be attained, liy classing 
 them into long and short woolled breeds, and into the 
 breeds which have horns, and those that are without 
 that appendage. Of the long-woolled kind we have the 
 Tees Water, the Old and New Leicesters, the Dartmore 
 Nets, the Exmoor, and the Heath sheep ; and of the 
 short-woollcd kind, we have the Dorsetshire, Hereford 
 or Ryeland, the South-down, the Norfolk, the Cheviot, 
 and the Shetland sheep. On the other hand, the Tees 
 Water, Old and New Leicesters, Dartmore Nots, Here- 
 ford, Southdown, Cheviot, and Shetland breeds, arc 
 without horns ; while the Exmoor, Dorsetshire, Nor- 
 folk, and Heath sheep have horns, though of different 
 sizes. From this classification, it will appear, that horns 
 are not necessarily connected either with one kind of 
 wool or another, being found upon the heads both of 
 long and short woolled sheep. The Norfolk sheep, 
 which are slow dull feeders, have long horns, though 
 they carry upon their Ijacks fine short wool, of great 
 value to the manufocturer. This breed, however, is on 
 the decline, and seldom kept, unless where the folding 
 system is retained, being supplanted by the Leicesters 
 and Southdowns, both quicker feeding animals, and the 
 latter yielding wool of a quality not much inferior to 
 what is imported from Spain. 
 
 To treat of the several kinds now mentioned, would 
 lead us into a field of greater extent than circumstances 
 will permit; our illustration, therefore, shall be restrict- 
 ed to the Southdown, Old and New Leicester, Cheviot, 
 and Heath breeds ; these being, in fact, the kinds chiefly 
 reared and fed ; though even of these there are many 
 varieties, according to the mixture of blood communi- 
 cated by crossing with different tups. 
 
 On the Southdomn Shecfi. 
 
 This breed have gray faces and legs, fine bones, and 
 long small necks ; are low before, and light in the fore 
 quarter. Tlieir flesh is fine in the grain, and of an ex- 
 cellent flavour. The defect of this kind arises from 
 their standing higher behind than before, whereby the 
 hind quarters are heaviest; which defect might cer- 
 tainly be remedied by the use of fine woolled tups, suit- 
 ably proportioned. At this time the Southdown sheep 
 arc getting into fashion, being a quick-feeding breed; 
 the wethers are capable of being disposed of at an early 
 age, being seldom kept longer than two years, and of- 
 ten sold fat when only eighteen months old. From trials 
 made in Norfolk, they are reported to stand the fatigues 
 of folding equally well with the old breed of that coun- 
 ■'v, which. as already said, is going out of repute. 
 
 On the Old Leicester, or Lincolnshire Hhetfi. 
 
 The Lincolnshire sheep, for distinction's sake called 
 the t)ld Leicesters, because the Dishley, or improved 
 breed selected from them, are generally denominated 
 New Leicesters, have white faces, long, thin, and weak 
 carcasses, and no horns; they have thick rough white 
 legs, large bones, thick pelts, and long wool, measuring 
 from ten to eighteen inches, and weighing from eight 
 to fourteen pounds per fleece. This kind are naturally 
 dull feeders ; and, even when fat, the carcass is coarse 
 grained, and of inferior value. The great quantity of 
 wool clipped from this breed has, however, kept it lon- 
 ger in reputation than otherwise might have been ex- 
 pected ; though it is only in such a county as Lincoln, 
 where innumerable grass fields of the richest quality 
 are every where to be found, that sheep of this kind can 
 be fattened. After this character, it will appear sur- 
 prising that Mr Bakewell resorted to this very county 
 for selecting the tups and ewes from which his impro- 
 ved breed were raised. Strange as this may appear, it 
 is not the less true on that accomit ; for the Lincolnshire 
 breeders, being led astray by long wool and big bones, 
 suffered themselves to be deprived of their most valua- 
 ble sheep before they were sufficiently sensible of their 
 value. The prejudices v/hich long prevailed against the 
 new breed being now, however, greatly removed, the 
 ancient stock is fast wearing out, whilst its place is sup- 
 plied by quicker-feeding animals, to the great advan- 
 tage of the owners, and to the benefit of the public. 
 Lincolnshire is naturally a most valuable grazing dis- 
 trict ; therefore, in every point of view, it is a matter 
 of serious consideration, that the natural advantages 
 which it oft'ers should not be misapplied by improper 
 management. 
 
 On the Kc'ji Leicester Sheep. 
 
 This valuable breed claims our particular attention, 
 being the easiest fed, and brought sooner to perfection 
 than any other in the island. It was originally selected 
 by Mr Bakewell, from the best of the old Lincolnshire 
 stocks ; and, being crossed and rccrossed, till something 
 like perfection as to shape, size, and disposition for 
 feeding cleverly, was attained, a new breed was llius 
 formed, capable of givmg the greatest return to the 
 feeder and breeder, and consequently of the greatest 
 benefit to the public. 
 
 The new Leicester, or Dishley breed, are spread so 
 extensively over the whole island, and their properties 
 are so well known, that it is almost superfluous to say 
 one word on their merits, or to insist on the benefit 
 which the public would derive, were this breed brought 
 into general use in all the lower districts, where tur- 
 nips can be raised for their winter and spring consump- 
 tion, and good grass for their summer pasture. We 
 are almost certain, that no breed whatever will make a 
 greater return to the farmer for the meat that is con- 
 sumed ; and this we consider to be the true criterion 
 which ought to influence the actual cultivator. If this 
 breed, at two years of age, is equal in value to ohter 
 breeds at three years of age, the keep being alike, there 
 can be no doubt respecting its superior advantages. 
 On these matters hardly any doubt can be entertained, 
 as they have been repeatedly ascertained by the experi- 
 ments of practitioners. We do not mean to say, that 
 the mutton will be equally delicious fo the palate of
 
 AGRICULTUIIE. 
 
 315 
 
 ihe epicure as that of the slower feeding breeds, which 
 is altogether a difliercnt question : all that is meant is, 
 that a given quantity of grass will make a greater re- 
 turn to the occupier when depastured with the new Lei- 
 cester sheep, than with any other of the varieties with 
 which we are acquainted. This is the true ciiterion for 
 tlie farmer, the taste of the consumer being with hini 
 only an object of secondary consideration. 
 
 On the Cheviot Sheeji. 
 
 This is a valuable breed, carrying on their backs wool 
 of fine quality, which always bears a high price in the 
 market, and therefore forms an object of great impor- 
 tance to the breeder. Perhaps a small mixture of the 
 Dishley blood with the original Cheviot sheep is of 
 material advantage to that breed, not in respect of wool, 
 which certainly is not ameliorated, but merely because 
 the size, shape, and disposition of the animal, would 
 thus be greatly improved. The Cheviot sheep have a 
 great affinity with the Southdown breed ; and we are 
 much inclined to think that both originally descended 
 from the same pareats. By covering them with a Dish- 
 ley tup, the deficiency in the fore-quarters of each would 
 be amended, though we do not say that the quality of 
 the wool would be improved. The farmer in managing 
 this breed, must therefore be guided by the relative 
 advantages of wool and carcass. If the first prepon- 
 derates, then no cross should be resorted to which would 
 lessen the value of the fleece ; and if the other, then 
 the shape, size, and disposition of the carcass to fatten, 
 will necessarily claim a priority of attention. In the 
 present state of British markets, meat is an object of 
 greater consideration than wool ; every farmer's at- 
 tention ought, therefore, to be directed more to the 
 improvement of carcass than to the fleece with which it 
 is covered. 
 
 On the Heathi or Mountain Sheefi. 
 
 This is a hardy breed, having spiral horns, black 
 faces, black legs, wild-looking eyes, and short firm car- 
 casses. The sheep of this breed are covered with coarse 
 shaggy wool, and are exceedingly active, and well adap- 
 ted to the mountainous districts in which they are reared. 
 They are seldom fed till three years of age, generally 
 when they are four, but sometimes kept till they arc 
 five, at which time they feed well, and afford mutton of 
 the richest flavour. This hardy tribe is first met with 
 in the north-west of Yorkshire, and are, in a great mea- 
 sure, in possession of the hills in the northern parts of 
 Scotland. Perhaps there may be diftcrent varieties of 
 this breed, particularly in Galloway and Ayrshire, owing 
 to crosses with the Cheviot sheep ; but none are better 
 calculated to thrive in the mountam districts than the 
 original heath sheep ; because none are so constitu- 
 tionally disposed to encounter the hardships which 
 must be undergone in such situations. Their wool is 
 certainly of small value, but might be improved by 
 crosses with other breeds ; though there is a consider- 
 able danger that what was gahied on the fleece might 
 
 , be lost upon the carcass. 
 
 ^ Having now detailed the properties of the chief breeds 
 of sheep kept in the island, it remains to notice the 
 management exercised with these animals, whether 
 considered as breeders or feeders. The object is, in 
 eveiy case, to prepare them for the butcher; though 
 
 this object is obtained in various ways, and at very 
 different periods. 
 
 In the upland, or breeding districts, sheep are dis- 
 posed of at various ages, and for various purposes. A 
 draught of ewes is annually made for the lowland feed- 
 ers, who, after taking a lamb and selling it to the 
 butcher, feed the dams, and dispose of them in like 
 manner. A draught of wether sheep is also annually 
 made to the lowland fiirmers, and tliese are fed either 
 upon grass or turnips, according to the season in which 
 they are purchased. It is generally believed, that ewes 
 and lambs are the most profitable slock in the lowland 
 districts, because the profits of feeder and breeder arc. 
 thus combined. This branch of stock is usually pur- 
 chased at the end of autumn, wintered on tlic stubbles 
 and aftermath, and receives a few turnips in the spring 
 previously to the period of lambing. Afterwards, the 
 ewe and lamb are fed upon early grass; and often in this 
 way both are ready for the butcher at the same time ; 
 though, in general cases, a month or two more is re- 
 quired to prepare the dam for market after the lamb is 
 removed. In this case the fleece is obtained, which if 
 the breed is of a suitable kind, is an important matter 
 to the farmer. Lambs in this way are prepared for the 
 market from Candlemas to Lammas ; though it may be 
 remarked, that those sold aboiu the term of \\'hilsun- 
 day generally yield more profit than what is gauied at 
 an earlier period. The price per pound wuiglit is then 
 certainly reduced ; but taking it accordhig to carcass 
 weight, and the expense of feeding, the profit will be 
 found of equal advantage to the feeder as if the animal 
 had been marketed earlier in the season. 
 
 Wether sheep are partly fed upon grass, but more 
 generally upon turnips. The new Leicestcrs are oltcn 
 fed in this way when only eighteen montjis old, seldom 
 when they exceed thirty months ; but the upland breed 
 of sheep are generally four years of age belbre they are 
 considered fit for turnip feeding. Much depends, how- 
 ever, upon the manner in which each of the several 
 varieties have been guided in the early stages of growth, 
 as their progress to maturity may be hastened or re- 
 tarded by the quality of the food then bestowed upon 
 them. With sheep the feeding in early years has more 
 effect than with any other kind of animals. 
 
 Sect. IV. 
 
 On Swine. 
 
 This species of live stock may be regarded as of con- 
 siderable importance to farmers, consuming the offal of 
 corn, and searching the dinig-liills for every kind of 
 substance which may therein be gathered. To swine 
 the refuse of the fields and the scullery is a feast, and 
 their stomachs are a receptacle for many substances 
 which every other animal would reject. 
 
 Many varieties of this animal prevail in the island, 
 but, without discussing them, it may be observed, in 
 general, that the small breeds are most beneficial to tlie 
 farmer, because, such may be fed upon ordinary ma- 
 terials without putting him to any extraordinary expense 
 to prepare them for market. In fact, swine are the 
 only variety of granivorous animals that can be fed upon, 
 the offal of grain, or such articles as would otherwise 
 go to waste about a fann steading. Since the erection 
 of thrashing machines, amudi greater quantity of light 
 grain is beat from tlie straw than was gained when the 
 R r 2
 
 316 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 flail was employed. To use tliis extra quantity to ad- 
 vantas^c becomes an important concern to the occupiers 
 of land; and the using of" it in raising and supponing 
 swine is by far the most profitable mode of consuming 
 an article, which, in other respects, is comparatively of 
 little value. 
 
 Upon a tillage farm consisting of 300 acres, whereof 
 200 arc kept under the plough, it may be reckoned, 
 that a sum not less than 100/. sterling may be annually 
 gained from keeping swine, were the management ar- 
 ranged in a systematic manner. One main advantage 
 of such a branch of rural economy arises from little or no 
 capital being recpiired to carry it on, while the trouble 
 and outlay attending it scarcely deserve notice. With 
 the addition of one acre of broad clover, and one acre of 
 tares, for the summer and autumn months, and the like 
 extent of ground for turnips and yams during the win- 
 ter and spring months, the whole not exceeding 20/. in 
 value, the stock of swine that we are to recommend may 
 be amply supported. 
 
 Were two breeding sows kept on a farm of the size 
 mentioned, and their produce reared by the farmer, it 
 may be calculated, that 40 swine would be annually fed 
 off, the value of which, in the months of January and 
 February each year, the time w hen pork is much in de- 
 mand, would be 50s. each, even granting that the price 
 of pork was much lower than at present, the total 
 amount being etjual to the sum already mentioned. That 
 such a number of sv inc can be supported and fed upon 
 the offals of a 300 acre farm, and the other auxiliary ar- 
 ticles specified, may be pronounced a certain fact. We 
 have tried it, though rather upon a smaller scale, and 
 the profit gained has been fully more than is here sta- 
 ted. Where such a system of management is pursued, 
 we decidedly recommend the small breed of swine, be- 
 cause they will feed in a shorter period, and thrive upon 
 articles that would starve the larger sized animals. 
 When speaking of a small breed, we do not mean those 
 that pass by the name of Chinese or pot-bellied swine. 
 The kind in view is sw ine that will feed upon common 
 fare to 7 or 8 stones Amsterdam when 11 or 12 months 
 old, or to 9 or 10 stone when put up in the house to re- 
 ceive better fare. Wc are sorry that this breed cannot 
 be classified, but it is by far the best for going on a far- 
 mer's dunghill, and will thrive where finer and larger 
 breeds would be stunted and starved. 
 
 The mod# of management which we recommend is, 
 that a boar and two good sows of a proper age should 
 constantly be kept, and that one young sow shall annually 
 be reared, in order to supply the others when they pass 
 maturity. Wc would cast off the oldest sows, i. c. feed 
 them when they arrive at 3 years of age, which of course 
 would cause four sows to be in hand at one time. These 
 annually would produce more than 40 pigs, which are to 
 be held on ; but the remainder might be sold as they 
 are weaned, there being a regular and steady demand in 
 the country for young pigs. 
 
 It is obvious that, at the present rate of markets, 
 40 swine, weighing 7 or 8 stone each, are worth more 
 money than here staled ; but, even upon the supposition 
 that markets may fall considerably, the net profit will 
 still be as much as is described. We apprehend that 
 people would be readier to admit the truth of this part 
 of the statement, than that such a number can be sup- 
 ported at so little expense ; but this point can only be 
 ■iatisfactorily elucidated by an appeal to experience. 
 
 We have, for a number of years, kept a stock of swine 
 
 in the \.ay now recommended. They go at large in th<i 
 court or yard belonging to the farm, and receive a 
 leeuing of oftal grain in the morning, and of yams or 
 turnips in the evening ; and the meat fed in this way- 
 has constantly drawn the highest price. They get also 
 the dish-washings ol the house, any milk or whey that 
 remauis unconsumed, and have the dunghill to roam 
 upon, where perhaps more food is to be gathered, es- 
 pecially if the horses are fed upon unbroken grain, than 
 commonly imagined. 
 
 It will readily be conceived, that under this mode of 
 management, the latter end of summer and the harvest 
 months is the critical period for carrying on a stock of 
 swine. During these months little thrashing goes for- 
 ward, and horses seldom receive any corn lor aliment; 
 hence, all that can be consistently attempted is to keep 
 the animals in a growing state, and prepare them for fat- 
 tening cleverly, when food of a more nutritious quality- 
 can be procured. Clover and tares will do this effectu- 
 ally, the last particularly so when in a podded state. 
 Turnips can also be got by the end of September; and. 
 it must be recollected, that through the summer months 
 a considerable (quantity of milk and whey can be given, 
 upon which swine will be found to thrive lieartily. 
 
 That swine can be supported upon clover duruig sum* 
 meris not anew doctrine. The practice has long pre- 
 vailed in England, and ought to be adopted extensively 
 in this country. We once enclosed a small part of a, 
 field with boards, into which swine stock was put, taking 
 care to put a ring into their nose before hand, so that 
 they might not injure the ground, and they throve very- 
 well. 
 
 In short, a more beneficial stock cannot be kept upon 
 a farm than swine, so long as the quantity kept is in pro- 
 portion to the extent of offals about the premises. The 
 other articles recommended are merely meant to render 
 the consumption of offals more beneficial, or to carry on 
 the stock at periods when such offals are scarce. The 
 charge of attendance is very small ; indeed the benefit 
 gained by the dunghill will more than compensate the 
 expenses incurred. To make as much profit from cattle 
 or sheep as is mentioned, requires a great advance of 
 money ; but in the article of swine hardly any is neces- 
 sary, while the most part of the articles consumed can- 
 not, in any other way, be converted to such beneficial 
 purposes. 
 
 Like other writers, we might have treated of rabbits, 
 poultry, pigeons, bees, and other minor branches of live 
 stock ; but considering that none of them are objects of 
 much advantage to the farmer, nay rather that almost all 
 of them are attended with positive loss, we shall not say 
 a word about them. It is more important to remark, 
 that the attention lately paid to the useful animals is 
 highly creditable to the British farmer, and, in particu- 
 lar, that the utmost gratitude of the public is due to 
 Messrs Bakewell, Cullcy, and other agriculturists, who 
 have brought the horses, neat cattle, and sheep, of this 
 island to a pitch of improvement, not to be equalled, far 
 less surpassed, by that of other countries. These gentle- 
 men have benefited themselves, as was justly their due, 
 by such meritorious exertions ; but, in ancient Rome, 
 they would have received rewards of a different kind — 
 when in life, their heads would have been crowned with 
 laurels ; and, after their death, statues would have 
 been erected to their memories. In Britain, however, 
 the possession of merit is generally the sole reward of 
 the owner ^ though we state, with pleasure, that a re-
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 517 
 
 ward of a different kind has net only been deserved, but 
 also, in some respect, obtained, by the gentlemen, 
 who have improved the live stock of Britain so much 
 above tliat of every other country in the world. 
 
 Sect. V. 
 
 On Che Use of Oxen and Horses in Rural iMbour. 
 
 Before closing this Chapter, it is proper to say a few 
 words on a subject much agitated ; namely, whether 
 oxen or horses are the most profitable animals for 
 executing rural labour ; in other words, which of these 
 varieties of live stock are best calculated lor that work, 
 and to promote the public interest. On these points, 
 very diil'erent opinions have been entertained, though ac- 
 cording to our views, the real merits of the subject lie 
 in a very narrow compass. 
 
 During the rude state, in which husbandly long re- 
 mained in this island, oxen were generally employed as 
 beasts of labour ; but progressively were laid aside, and 
 horses used in their room, almost in direct proportion as 
 improvements were introduced. This is a fact which 
 ought to go a great length in determining the question, 
 whether oxen or horses are the most useful animals for 
 carrying on farm labour ; because mankind are generally 
 pretty sharp-sighted in evesy matter which affects their 
 interest, and seldoni lay aside an established practice, 
 unless the one to be substituted is completely ascertained 
 to be more profitable and advantageous. Independently 
 of this fact, which is mcontrovertible, practical agricul- 
 turists are fully sensible, that the operations of plough- 
 ing and carting are more expeditiously performed with 
 horses than with oxen ; and this of itself, in such a va- 
 riable climate as that of Great Britain, merits serious 
 consideration. When despatch is to be used in finishing 
 a field, or carting home corn in harvest, horses may be 
 pushed at a good step, without doing them much injury ; 
 but oxen, at least those of Great Britain, are unable 
 to undergo such a measure of fatigue. They must be 
 worked at a regular step ; for, if pushed beyond it, they 
 will be completely disabled. On these accounts, we 
 have always considered horses as the most suitable 
 animals for farm-labour especially since fanns were en- 
 larged, and work regularly executed. In small farms, 
 where circumstances are different, where the plough- 
 man is employed in every thing, in the field to-day, and 
 in the barn to-morrow, oxen may be employed with ad- 
 vantage ; because such an irregular systein of working 
 affords that rest from labour, which the animals confes- 
 sedly require : but in a large farm, where the plough- 
 man has little to do but to manage his team, and where 
 nine or ten hours' labour must each day be regularly per- 
 foi-med, the case is materially altered. Oxen will not 
 suit with such a system of management, nor would it be 
 possible to execute the same work as is done by a pair 
 of horses, without keeping three pair of oxen in their 
 stead. Two pair are necessary at all events, so that they 
 may get sufficient rest, and the other pair would be 
 necessary to make up the deficiency of labour occasioned 
 by their slow motion. 
 
 Most of these positions will be admitted by the sup- 
 porters of oxen ; but, under the admission, they contend, 
 that the great superiority of oxen over horses consists 
 in the difference betwixt their keep, when worked, and 
 the difference of their values at the conclusion, when 
 ihey arc unfit for work. Oxchj it is said, can be worked 
 
 without corn ; whereas one-eighth of the corn produced, 
 is consumed upon every farm where horses are em- 
 ployed. Again, it is alleged, that oxen improve under 
 the yoke, and, at the age of six or seven years, are fitter 
 for fattening than at an earlier period; whereas horses 
 gradually decline, and at last are worth no more than 
 can be got for their skins. We have stated the argu- 
 ments fairly in support of oxen, and shall now offer our 
 opinion with as much brevity as possible. 
 
 In the first place, two horses may be supported 
 through the season on the produce of six acres, viz. 
 three acres of grass and hay, and the corn and straw of 
 three acres of oats ; whereas six oxen will retjuire four 
 acres of grass, at least, through the summer months, 
 with six acres of hay, and two acres of turnips for their 
 winter support, amounting ui all to twelve acres, leaving 
 a balance of six acres on the side of horses. The value 
 of these six acres may be moderately estimated at 
 thirty pounds ficr annum, which certainly gives a large 
 sinking fund for defraying the tear and wear of the 
 horses. Suppose a pair of horses to be worth one hun- 
 dred pounds, the tear and wear of them, at 12i fier cent., 
 the usual allowance, is only twelve pounds ten shillings 
 /ler annum, which leaves the sum of seventeen pounds 
 ten shillings for profit. Perhaps this is a new state of 
 the case, though it is a fair one, and will be realized in 
 every situation, Avhere the active and regular work is 
 executed. 
 
 In the second place, the difference of value betwixt 
 oxen and horses, at the end of their labour, does not in- 
 validate what we have stated in the slightest manner ; 
 because we have shown, that the horse farmer has a 
 sinking fund in his hand, out of which a total loss may be 
 amply supplied. But, setting accidents aside, (and to 
 these the ox farmer is equally liable with the other,) a 
 total loss will rarely be sustained by a judicious farmer ; 
 because, when he finds a horse failing, he will send him 
 to market immediately, there being always a great de- 
 mand for half-wrought horses to supply carriers, higlers, 
 and common carters, from whom full value may be ob- 
 tained. If we suppose three-fourths of the original pur- 
 chase money to be lost in general cases ; that is, w hen 
 horses are seasonably cast, we shall not be wide of the 
 mark ; but in a comparative view, between oxen and 
 horses, this loss is amply compensated by the difference 
 of keep, when the animals are employed, which we have 
 in no shape exaggerated. 
 
 Upon the whole, it would seem, that oxen, in the 
 natural course of things, ought to be fattened for the 
 butcher as early as possible ; and that horses are the 
 most useful and the cheapest animals for performing 
 farm-labour. Were oxen to be universally employed, it 
 is plain, the produce of the earth would, in a great 
 measure, be consumed by the animals kept to work it, 
 whilst mankind would suffer materially by adopting a 
 system erroneously recommended by some well design- 
 ing men, as eminently conducive to their comfort and 
 happiness. 
 
 CHAP. XI. 
 
 On Drainage and Ihrigation. 
 
 The objects of this Chapter may, at first sight, ap- 
 pear to be at variance ; as by the one, superfluous mois- 
 ture is meant to be removed ; whereas, by the other, 
 water is artificially thrown upon the surface of the earth,
 
 318 
 
 AGKICULTURE. 
 
 iind, of covu'st, a iivopoilion ihci'eof received into its 
 bowels. The utility of the operations to be treated of 
 will, however, remove tlie apparent incongruity, both 
 being useful, thouijh in different places and situations, 
 ■.uul cDsui-ing important advantages to the husbandman. 
 
 Sect. I. 
 
 On Draining. 
 
 lew inipiovenieius are attended with more salutary 
 r fleets, than those accomplished by the removal of su- 
 peifluous moisture from arable land ; because, when 
 <iich moisture is suffered to remain, ploughing can only 
 be imperfectly performed, w hilst the benefit of manure 
 is in a great measure lost. To carry off superfluous 
 water is, therefore, an imiwrtant object in the sight of 
 every good farmer, meriting at all times his most assi- 
 duous attention. 
 
 Without stopping to make any inquiry concerning the 
 nature and incUnation of ihe various strata which com- 
 pose the interior parts of the earth, and which serve to 
 •direct or impede the passage of water accumulated, or 
 deposited within its bowels ; it will be sufficient to state, 
 the most approved modes of carrying off that water in 
 an artificial manner, and thus freeing the part affected 
 of the evils resulting to the surface from these internal 
 stores. 
 
 Wherever a burst of water appears in any particular 
 spot, the sure and certain way of getting quit of such an 
 evil is to dig hollow drains, to such a depth below the 
 aurface as is required by the fall or level that can be 
 gained, and by the quantity of water expected to pro- 
 ceed from the burst or spring. Having ascertained the 
 extent of water to be carried off, taken the necessary 
 levels, and cleared a mouth, or leading passage for the 
 water, begin the drain at the extremity next to that lead- 
 er, and go on with the work till the top of the spring is 
 touched, which probably will accomplish the intended 
 object. But if it should not be completely accomplish- 
 ed, run off from the main drain with such a number of 
 branches, as may be required to intercept the water, and 
 in this way, disappointment will hardly be experienced. 
 Drains, to be substantially useful, should seldom be less 
 than three feet in depth, 20 or 24 inches thereof to be 
 close packed with stones or wood, according to circum- 
 stances. The former are the best materials, but in many 
 places are not to be got in sufficient quantities ; re- 
 course therefore must often be made to the latter, though 
 not so effectual or durable. 
 
 It is of vast importance to fill up drains as fast as they 
 are dug out ; because, if left open for any length of time, 
 the earth is not only apt to fall in, but the sides get into 
 a broken irregular state, which cannot afterwards be 
 completely rectified. It also deserves attention, that a 
 proper covering of straw or sod should be put upon the 
 top of the materials, to keep the surface earth from mix- 
 ing with them ; and where wood is the material used 
 for filling up, a double degree of attention is necessary, 
 otherwise the proposed improvement may be effectually 
 frustrated. 
 
 The pit method of draining is a very effectual one, if 
 executed with judgment. When it is sufficiently as- 
 certained where the bed of water is deposited, which 
 can easily be done by boring with an auger, sink a pit 
 into the place, of a size which will allow a man freely 
 to work within its bounds. Dig this pit of such a depth 
 
 as to -each the bed of the water meant to be carried 
 off"; and when this depth is attained, which is easily dis- 
 cerned by tlie rising of the water, fill up ihe pit with big 
 land-stones, and carry off' the water by a stout Urain to 
 some adjoining ditch or mouth, whence it may pioceed 
 to the nearest river. We have tried this metliod re- 
 peatedly, and were never disappointed. Indeed, if the 
 proper spot is pitched upon for putting down the pit, 
 the object nmst be attained ; because the water being 
 there stopped or impeded by a close substratum, is im- 
 mediately set at liberty, when that substratum is pierced 
 and cut through. But, without detailing any part of our 
 own experience iii such matters, which, of course, is of 
 a limited nature, it may be more useful to give a general 
 statement of the way in which drainage is executed, in 
 the different districts of the island. 
 
 The following directions are given by T. B. Bayley, 
 Esq. of Hope, near Manchester : — First make the main 
 drains down the slope or fall of the field. When the 
 land is very wet, or has not much fall, there should in 
 general be two of these to a statute acre ; for the shorter 
 the narrow drains are, the less liable they will be to 
 accidents. The width of the trench for the main drains 
 should be 30 mches at top, but the width at the bottom 
 must be regulated by the nature and size of the materi- 
 als intended to be used. If the drain is to be made of 
 bricks 10 inches long, 3 inches thick, and 4 inches in 
 breadth, then the bottom of the drain must be 12 inches; 
 but if the common sale bricks are used, then the bottom 
 must be proportionably contracted. In both cases there 
 must be an interstice of one inch between the bottom 
 brick and the sides of the trench, and the vacuity must 
 be filled up with straw, rushes, or loose mould. For the 
 purpose of making these drains, the bricks should be 
 moulded 10 inches long, 4 broad, and 3 thick; which 
 dimensions always make the best drain. 
 
 The method which this gentleman pursues in con- 
 structing his main drains is stated by him to be the fol- 
 lowing : When the ground is soft and spongy, the bot- 
 tom of the drain is laid with bricks placed across. On 
 these, on each side, two bricks are laid flat, one upon 
 the other, forming a drain six inches high, and four 
 broad, which is covered with bricks laid flat. — When 
 the bottom of the trench is found to be a firm and solid 
 body ; such as clay or marl, he formerly thought that it 
 might not be necessary to lay the bottom with brick ; 
 but in this he has candidly acknowledged that he was 
 quite wrong. By the runs of water, the alteniate changes 
 from wet to dry, and the access of air, these hard bot- 
 toms were rendered friable, crumbled away, and allowed 
 the drains to fall in and to choke up, that were not sup- 
 ported by a bottom laid with brick or stone. When 
 stones are used instead of bricks, Mr Bayley thinks that 
 the bottom of tlie drain should be about eight inches 
 in width ; and in all cases the bottom of main drains 
 ought to be sunk four inches below the level of the nar- 
 row ones, whose contents they receive, even at the point 
 where the latter fall into them. 
 
 The main drains should be kept open or uncovered 
 till the narrow ones are begun from them, after which 
 they may be finished ; but before the earth is returned 
 upon the stones or bricks, it is advisable to throw in 
 straw, rushes, or brushwood, to increase the freedom of 
 the drain. The small narrow di"ains should be cut at tlie 
 distance of 16 or 18 feet from each other, and should 
 fall into the main drain at very acute angles, to prevent 
 any stoppage. At the point where they fall in, and 8 oj
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 319 
 
 iO inches above it, they should be made firm with tjrick 
 or stone. These drains should be 18 nicncs wide at the 
 top, and 1 6 at bottom. 
 
 A mode of drahiing clay soils wet by rain or surface 
 water, practised by the late Sir Henry Fletcher, Bart. 
 wiUi great success, seems worthy of being staled. The 
 upper soil is of good quality ; but, being situated in a 
 mountainous part of the country, the frequent rains kept 
 it so full of water, that it produced only a coarse grass, 
 worth 3s. per acre. The interior soil ol clay was of great 
 depth. The mode of draining which has been practised 
 upon it is the following : — On grass lands he digs 22 
 inches, or 2 feet deep ; the first spadeful is of the turf, 
 taken so deep, as where it separates from the clay, the 
 turf is dug carefully out and preserved unbroken with 
 its grass side up, and laid on one side of the cut ; then, 
 with a very strong spade, 18 inches long, 6 inches wide 
 at top, and 2 at the bottom, he digs a spadeful in the 
 clay, which the men spread about the land, on the side 
 of the drain opposite to where the turfs were laid, as far 
 as possible from the drain, so that none may get in 
 again. A scoop follows to clear out the fragments in 
 the bottom, which are also spread in like manner. They 
 are then ready for filling ; and, in doing this, he takes 
 three stones of a thin flat fomti, two of which are placed 
 against the sides of the drain, meeting at bottom ; and 
 the third caps the other two. Thus, a hollow triangular 
 space is left to convey the water, which is subject to no 
 accidents that can fill it up, or impede the current. 
 Stones alway sink deeper in the ground ; and in the 
 common method, this frequently causes stoppages, by 
 their being partly buried in the clay ; but the triangle, 
 when it subsides, does it regularly, and keeps its form 
 and the passage for the water clear. One cart-load of 
 stones in this way, will do a considerable length of drain. 
 They are carefully laid down by the side of the cut, with 
 a shovel or basket ; and if there are any small refuse 
 stones left on the ground after the drain is set, they arc 
 thrown in above. The stones being thus fixed, the sods 
 are then trimmed to the shape of the drain, and laid on 
 them with the grass side downwards, and none of the clay 
 used in filling up. 
 
 Not only stones and bricks, but also wood and other 
 materials have been used for filling drains. Upon this 
 point, Lord Petre expresses himself thus : " The drains 
 filled with wood, and covered as usual with straw or 
 rushes, arc preferable to stones or any other kind of 
 materials ; for as the wood decays, the water continues 
 to pass. When filled with stones, and the drains stopt 
 vip, which must be expected to take place in time, the 
 earth becomes quite solid round the stones, and as they 
 do not decay, the filtering of the water is for ever ob- 
 structed. But this is not the case when bushes or 
 wood are used; continual filtering and draining are then 
 for ever to be perceived ; and, by repeating the operation 
 a second time, cutting the drains transversely of the old 
 ones, the benefit of the filterings through the rotten 
 wood is secured, and the spewing up of old, broken, and 
 damaged drains, corrected and carried oft'. Besides, as 
 bushes form a much greater number of cavities than 
 either stones or poles, they are less liable to stop up, and 
 cncovu'age filtering more than large and more solid bo- 
 dies. A load of bushes containing 120 faggots, will do 
 about 360 rods ; and a load of straw containing 120 bot- 
 tles the same ; the load of bushes is generally wortli 
 about Ms. and the straw 18s. per load. I therefore 
 
 calculate this expense about 12s. per acre, ditches a rod 
 apart. 
 
 Richard Preston, Esq. of Blackmore, prefers, on twen- 
 ty years experience, black thorns lo every other mate- 
 rial for filling drains. Wood is sometimes used with 
 this view, in the following manner : Two billets are 
 placed at opposite sides of the drain, and each is made 
 to rest upon the opposite side to that on which its 
 lower part stands, so as to form with each other a St 
 Andrew's cross. The upper part of the cross is filled 
 with brushwood, laid longitudinally, above which straw is 
 placed cross-ways and the mould is thrown in over all. 
 This kind of drain is said to have continued running in 
 Berwickshire for thirty years ; and it is recommended 
 by the autlior of the Agricultural Report of the county 
 of Caermarthen, in Wales. He says, " The completest 
 method I have yet known, is to cut the strongest willows, 
 or other aquatic brushwood, into lengths of about 20 
 inches, and place them alternately in the drain, with one 
 end against one side of the bottom, and the other lean- 
 ing against the opposite side. Having placed the strong 
 wood in this manner, I fill the space kft between them, 
 on the upper side, with the small brushwood, upon 
 which a few rushes or straw being laid, as before men- 
 tioned, the work is done. Willow, alder, asp, or beech 
 boughs, are exceedingly durable if put into the drain 
 green, or before the sap is dried ; but if they are suficr- 
 ed to become dry, and then laid under ground, a rapid 
 decay is the consequence. I have seen willow taken out 
 of a bog, after lying there thirty years, and its bark was 
 as fresh and sappy as if it had been recently cut from the 
 hedge ; and it is well known, that beech laid green in 
 the water will continue sound for any length of time." 
 
 Another method of using wood consists of fixing at 
 every foot distance in the drain, a stick in the form of a 
 semicircular arch, and of laying upon these, longer 
 branches or twigs longitudhially. Thus is a curved ca- 
 vity, or arch, formed beneath, capable of supporting any 
 weight of earth. For this purpose young wood is re- 
 commended, and, in particular, the prunings of larch. 
 
 Instead of wood or stone, in many places it has of late 
 become customary to fill the lowest part of drains with 
 straw, and with that view to make use of wheat-stubblc 
 as the cheapest. On this subject, Mr Vancouver, in his 
 Report of the Essex husbandry, remarks, that when the 
 soil is a very close and retentive clay, the drains should 
 be made proportionally near to each other, shallow, anrl 
 filled with straw only ; it being totally unnecessary to 
 use wood, or any more durable material, upon land where 
 the sides of the drains are not likely to crumble in. He 
 asserts, that drains formed in this manner through the 
 tough and retentive clays, will be found in a short time 
 after the work is finished, to form over the straw, witli 
 which the drain was filled, an arch of sufficient strengtli, 
 to support the incumbent weight of the soil, and the 
 casual traffic of the field. " In twelve or eighteen 
 months, it may be observed, that the straw being of one 
 uniform substance, is all rotted, and carried awav, leav- 
 ing a clear pipe through the land in every drain, into 
 which the passage of the water may have been much, 
 facilitated, by a due attention to tlie filling of the drains 
 with the most friable and porous parts of the surface 
 the field might have afforded." 
 
 As in some situations it is an object of great impor- 
 tance to save the expense of materials commonly used 
 in filling drains, a variety of device-^ have with that viev.-
 
 520 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 been adopted. One of these is of the following nature : 
 A drain is first dug lo the necessary depth, narrow at 
 bottom. Into the trench is laid a smooth tree, or cylin- 
 drical piece of wood, 12 feet long, 6 niches diameter at 
 the one end, and 5 at the oiher, having a ring fastened 
 into the thickest end. Alter strewing a little sand upon 
 the upper side of the tree, the clay, or toughest part ol 
 the contents of tlie trench, is first tluown in upon it, 
 and after that the remainder of tlie earth is lul.y iroddeu 
 down. By means of a rope through the rmg, the tree 
 is then drawn out to within a foot or two of the smaller 
 or hinder end ; and the same operation is repeated till 
 the whole drain is complete. Such a draui is said to 
 have conducted a small run of water a considerable way 
 under ground, for more than 20 years, without any sign 
 of failure. 
 
 What is called the sod or pipe drain consists of a 
 trench dug to a proper deptli ; after which a last spade- 
 ful is taken out in such a way as to leave a narrow 
 channel, which can be covered by a sod or turf dug in 
 grass land, and laid over it, the grass side downwards. 
 Such drains are said to continue hollow, and to discharge 
 well lor a great number of years. Mosses are said to 
 be drained in Lancashire nearly in the same manner, by 
 leaving shoulders about a foot and a half from the bot- 
 tom of the trench, and laying across these pieces of 
 dried peat or turf, cut into lengths of 1& inches, and 8 
 or 9 inches in breadth. 
 
 In Buckinghamshire, in grass lands, the sod drain is 
 thus made : When the line of drain is marked out, a 
 sod is cut in the form of a wedge, the grass side being 
 the narrowest, and the sods being from 12 to 13 inches 
 in length. The drain is then cut to the depth required, 
 but is contracted to a very narrow bottom. The sods 
 are then set in with the grass side downwards, and press- 
 ed as far as they will go. As the figure of the drain 
 does not suffer them to go to the bottom, a cavity is left 
 which serves as a water course; and the space above is 
 filled with tlie earth thrown out. 
 
 Another invention for draining land is described in 
 the Agricultural Report of the County of Essex. It 
 consists of a draining wheel of cast iron, that weighs 
 about 4 cwt. It is 4 feet in diameter, the cutting edge 
 or extremity of the circumference of the wheel is half 
 an inch thick, and it increases in thickness towards the 
 centre. At 15 inches deep it will cut a drain half an 
 inch wide at the bottom, and 4 inches wide at the top. 
 The wheel is so placed in a frame, that it may be loaded 
 at pleasure, and made to operate to a greater or less 
 depth, according to the resistance made by the ground. 
 It is used in winter when the soil is soft ; and the wheel 
 tracks arc either immediately filled with straw ropes, 
 and lightly covered over with earth, or they are left to 
 crack wider and deeper till the ensuing summer; after 
 which the fissures are filled with ropes of straw or of 
 twisted twigs, and lightly covered with the most porous 
 earth that is at hand. Thus, upon grass or ley lands, 
 hollow drains, which answer extremely well, are formed 
 at a trifling expense. It is said that 12 acres may be 
 fully gone over with this draining wheel in one day, so 
 as to make cuts at all necessary distances. 
 
 On sheep pastures a still simpler mode of removing 
 surface water is practised in some places. Wherever the 
 water is apt to stagnate, a deep furrow is turned up with 
 a stout plough. After this, a man with a spade pares 
 off the loose soil from the inverted sod, and scatters it 
 over the field, or casts it into hollow places. The sod 
 
 thus pared, and brought to the thickness of about three 
 inches, is restored to .ts orig.nal situation, with the 
 grassy side uppermost, as if no lurrow hau been made. 
 A pipe or opcnmg is thus tormed beneath it two or three 
 inches deep in the bottom of the furrow, which is suffi- 
 cient to discharge a considerable quantity of surtace 
 water, which readily sinks into it. These furrows, in- 
 deed, are easily choked up by any pressure, or by the 
 growth of the roots of ihe grass ; but they are also easily 
 restored, and no surface is lost by means of them. 
 
 With regard to the duraiion of hollow drains, or the 
 length of time that the water will continue to flow in 
 them, and preserve the soil in a proper slate of dryness, 
 it must necessarily depend, in a great degree, upon the 
 nature of the materials with which they are filled, an4 
 the care that has been taken to prevent their being 
 clicked up by any accession of soft soil. Independent 
 of this last circumstance, a drain filled with stones, like 
 the channel which supplies a natural spring, may endure 
 for ever. Wood, with which many drains have of late 
 years been filled, perishes at certain periods according 
 to its nature ; but it does by no means follow, that the 
 dram should lose its effect in consequence of the de- 
 struction of the wood. If the earth over it form itself 
 into an arch, the water will still continue to flow. Ac- 
 cordingly, drains filled with bushes and straw have been 
 known to run well after forty years. 
 
 Though many of the above methods of draining are 
 confessedly of a superficial nature, and only calculated 
 to serve for a short period, yet a proof is furnished 
 from them, that agriculturists in every quarter consider 
 drainage as a most useful and necessary measure. Per- 
 haps an over-abundance of water is no less pernicious 
 to many plants than the total want of it. At all events, 
 when water stagnates upon the soil, the roots of plants 
 will be rotted and destroyed. Even a temporary stagna- 
 tion renders land unproductive ; and the merits of every 
 farmer may be completely ascertained, by the degree of 
 attention employed to prevent such an evil. 
 
 Sect. II. 
 
 On Irrlt^ation, or the method of imfiroving L,and by flood- 
 ing it with Water. 
 
 This mode of improving land was practised in Eng- 
 land so early as the days of queen Elizabeth, and pro- 
 bably was brought from Italy, where it had long been 
 successfully practised. It has been tried in Scotland to 
 a considerable extent, on the estates of that excellent 
 nobleman the duke of Buccleugh ; and though the im- 
 provement made in consequence has not been so great 
 as what attended similar attempts in England, yet a 
 benefit has been derived sufficiently extensive, not only 
 to defray the expenses incurred, but to afford a hand- 
 some return to the occupiers. These observations will 
 be sufficiently understood from extracts from the paper 
 of the rev. Dr Singers, Kirkpntrick-juxta, on the Prin- 
 ciples aiid Practice of Irrigation, and from his Report 
 made to the Highland Society of Scotland in 1804, con- 
 cerning the watered meadows on or near the rivers Esk, 
 Ewes, Teviot, Ettrick, and Yarrow. From these two 
 papers the practical farmer may derive more informa- 
 tion than from any other source. 
 
 " The quality of the water," says Dr Singers, " may 
 be ascertained by experiment. Let a small portion of 
 land be floated with it for a month, about the latter end 
 of harvest; and afterwards for a week or two, about the
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 021 
 
 eod of spring. The cficcts of this easy cxpcriinent will 
 appear on the grass ; either in respect ot cjuantity, or 
 quuiily, or both : and the warmth of the water may be 
 sufficiently discovered, by its power of resisting early 
 frosts, a matter of importance in irrigation. 
 
 The appearance of the water is not sufficient to deter- 
 muie its qualities. Thick muddy rivers, enriched in 
 their passage through towns, and fertile soils, arc not 
 io irequenlly to be met with in Scotland, as the fiiends 
 of irrigation would wish. When these can be obtained, 
 the operator may depend on their efficacy. But clear 
 alpine streams differ essentially in their qualities ; and 
 "these are saiest and most certainly ascertained, by oli- 
 serving the effect of the water and the periods of its 
 freezing, as recommended above. With regard to those 
 waters which are known to flow through beds of marl, 
 there is reason to believe that much advantage may be 
 obtained from the use of them, in a sweet and rich ver- 
 dure, valuable for pasturage. Warm rivulets, contain- 
 ing great quantities of spring water, and resisting early 
 frosts, may be expected to encourage an early pasturage, 
 and probably also tolerable crops of hay. But mossy wa- 
 ters, darkened by the tincture of peat bogs, are very 
 unpromising for the purposes of irrigation ; though ills 
 proper to give them a trial ; and if mixed with marl 
 waters, or conducted upon soils abounding with calca- 
 reous matters, they may be productive of benefit. 
 
 It is of importance, in many dry pastures, to water 
 lands covered with fog (moss), or with broom, heath, or 
 other plants of less value to the farmer, for the purpose 
 of extirpating these plants, and encouraging palatable 
 grasses. On store farms, which have no tendency to 
 produce the rot, this practice may prove useful ; but 
 when there is any degree of risk from this distemper, 
 the farmer will be cautious ; he will suffer no summer 
 watering ; and he will allow no water to stagnate any 
 where. 
 
 When lime and marl -are very expensive, or difficult 
 to be obtained, and water is at command, farmers in 
 Scotland sometimes water dry slopes, with a view to 
 enrich them for crops of grain. This practice is ancient, 
 and has often succeeded. But, it is admitted, that water 
 enriches the soil for grass better than for corn. — The 
 grain is often late and husky. 
 
 A flat meadov/ can only be watered in ridges, and 
 requires a man of skill to lay it out in proper form, and 
 the work is accomplished at a considerable expense. A 
 slope may generally be watered in catch-work, at much 
 less expense, and with much less water. It is an error, 
 to prefer the flat grounds to the gentle slopes, for water 
 meadows, unless there be ample command of water, 
 and skill and money, to go through the necessary ope- 
 rations. The most rational method of improving flat 
 grounds, is generally by draining, and then giving them 
 a top dressing. Yet, if they can be formed into ridges 
 by the plough, they may be converted into meadows at 
 much less expense, than is necessary, if they should 
 require levelling with the spade. Ti'.is distinction may 
 be kept in view. 
 
 A gentle declivity, which can be watered in catch- 
 work, is an inviting subject. It perhaps produces little 
 in the state of nature, but it may become productive by 
 the application of water. 
 
 The quality of the soil is of little importance, when 
 
 the water deposits a great deal of enriching sediment ; 
 for by means of that substance, any soil is rendered 
 productive. This observation very commonly applies 
 to the water meadows in England ; but it will seldom 
 bL found applical>le to Scotland. And in this latter coun- 
 try, loam ap!)ears always to repay the irrigator with the 
 heaviest and best crops; mossy soils answer very well; 
 clay does not produce so abundantly; and gravel is 
 generally poor and unproductive, in comparison, — at 
 least for some years, and unless fully watered, or the 
 water good. 
 
 It will readily occur to the reader, that streams of 
 equal quality may differ materially in respect of the fa- 
 cility and safety with which they can be managed, and 
 conducted to the grounds which are intended to be 
 floated : that whatever stream is fixed on for this pur- 
 pose, the operator should determine, by means of a level, 
 \vhat lands are capaljlc of being watered from it : that 
 it is always convenient, and generally necessary, to en- 
 close the meadows with proper fences : and that a man 
 of prudence will have an eye to the quantity of water, 
 the demands of his farm, the chance of markets for any 
 surplus he may have to spare, and the prospect of ob- 
 taining suflicient assistance in making his crops of hay, 
 with case and expedition. All these matters will have 
 their due weight, in determining the grounds where a 
 meadow shall be formed, and in fixing on the extent of 
 it. The very common error, of laying out a greater 
 quantity of meadow, than can lie fully and properly float- 
 ed, should by all means be avoided ; as it leads to great 
 expenses, and brings the practice of irrigation into dis- 
 credit." 
 
 After giving an account of the wears or dams. the. 
 conductors or main carriers, and the sluices and hatch- 
 es, and after describing the method cf forming a flat 
 meadow, and a meadow in catch-work, Dr Singers prO' 
 cccds. 
 
 " It ought to be observed, that in catch -work, the 
 surface of the meadow is seldom very much broken. 
 Rough parts may be pared off, and some trivial work 
 done in rafter levelling,* which leaves a part of tl>e 
 sward. If any seeds are wanted, the proper kinds may 
 be understood, by attending to v/hat follows respectiilg 
 flat meadows. 
 
 These are formed into ridges by the spade or plough, 
 and are therefore almost totally destitute of grass, when 
 newly laid down. To sow any seeds that are not peren- 
 nial, or that would not agree with the soil and water, 
 would prove a serious loss. 
 
 If any trial have been made of the water, and it have 
 been found to CKcourage a set of good plants, these 
 ought to be preferred. But it is also necessary to con- 
 sider the soil, and to sow the seeds of such plants as 
 arc known to prosper in soils of a similar description. 
 Attention and experience will be found the surest guides 
 in this important point; that from the first, the meadow 
 may be stocked with such plants as may answer every 
 purpose. 
 
 The following observations on this subject, are sub- 
 mitted to the reader's consideration, as the result of my 
 experience, viz. That natural perennial red clover pros- 
 pers in watered meadows, consisting of haugh soil, with 
 a due proportion of marl or lin:c, either in the soil, or 
 in the stream ; but the common broad red clover speedily 
 
 * R:ifter levelling; is pcrfDrmcd by cuttinpr out slices of the surface earth, and leavinp; others untouched, altcniatcly, and then beating 
 down with inalk'ls, or trcaiUng- dow n those « hich are left, until the surface be reduced into form. 
 
 Vol. I. Paut I. S s
 
 322 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 dies om ; ilui.l i!iC pbnls of llokus lanatun (soft vernal, 
 woolly, or meadow grass) prosper in any soil soil, espe- 
 cially if it be also waRrtd : that Poa triuialia (common 
 poa, or rough stalked meadow grass) delights in the 
 soils last mentioned, if they are possessed of a degree 
 of moisture, between loam and bog : that Cynosurins 
 cristdln.i (crested dog's tail grass) prospers extremely 
 well in watered loams, although botanists have scarcely 
 attended to this fact; that Anthaxanlhum odoratwn 
 (scented vernal grass) will hardly fail in any watered 
 meadow, where it has been once established, however 
 «:oarse the soil ; and that it not only adds to the bulk and 
 weight of hay, but communicates the sweetest odour 
 to the whole crop, if made in dry weather : tliat the 
 genus of grasses called ylgrostts, Bent, furnishes tv^o 
 species, which are very good plants in watered mea- 
 dows, viz. Agroxtis alda, (white bent,) and Agrostis 
 stolr>7ufera, (creeping bent) : that in loams much broken 
 with the spade, and then watered, Trilkum refmis 
 (couch, or quick grass) forms a valuable plant for hay : 
 and, that for bogs extremely soft with peat, and moist 
 also, no plant yields more hay than the common sprat, 
 (Jtincus articulalus,) which, in richly watered meadows, 
 comes forward very early ; and would scarcely be known, 
 if mown before feeding, by those who never saw this 
 plant cut in proper time. 
 
 All these plants are adapted to furnish a crop of hay, 
 and also to yield a very abundant pasturage ; but at pre- 
 sent they can hardly be obtained in the seed shops, ex- 
 cepting perennial red clover, sold under the name of 
 Marl grass. — A farmer must reserve a portion of cor- 
 responding good grass, or purchase it from others ; 
 leaving it to stand till the seeds are mostly ripe, and 
 then taking care to preserve these for sowing in his new 
 meadow grounds. I have not often met witli perennial 
 rye-grass, in watered meadows, and a.m inclined to think, 
 that it does not prosper there ; but as I know that it 
 will stand for a season or more, it may be sown inter- 
 mixed, and will thicken the grass in the mean time. 
 
 The water should be set on, in the month of October; 
 and also, as early in that month as possible. The effects 
 of this watering are very important in strengthening the 
 roots and stalks of the plants, and preparing them for 
 shooting up strong and vigorous, next spring ; and the 
 blades that now rise, form a rough coat against winter, 
 protecting the vital powers of the plants from the seve- 
 rity of that season. It sometimes happens also, that by 
 delaying the watering process too long, early frosts su- 
 pervene, and very much impede, or prevent that opera- 
 tion. Mr Wright observes, that the floods of autumn 
 are very enriching to meadows, which is probably very 
 true; but this benefit is lost sight of, to a certain de- 
 gree, when the process of watering is delayed too long. 
 Indeed, I have reason to believe, that the latter pastu- 
 rage of meadows may generally be consumed early in 
 October ; and that what may then remain is of no im- 
 portance, compared with the advantages to be derived 
 from early watering. — Besides, if the meadov/ must be 
 watered in separate divisions, and at different periods, 
 it must happen, that by delaying the operation till No- 
 vember, some parts of the meadow may receive no wa- 
 ter sooner than December or January; and if these 
 months are very severe, it may be wholly impracticable 
 to complete the process at that season. 
 
 If the land is fine and rich, it will generally be found, 
 that three weeks may be sufficient for the first turn ; 
 
 if sour and coarse, four weeks may be necessary. The 
 verdure will then be fine, and the soil rich and yielding. 
 If scum appear on the grass, the water must be instant- 
 ly removed. 
 
 Should the water not overflow properly, stops must 
 be placed in the small feeders. These are either of 
 stones or stakes, either of which are firm and durable. 
 Sods rise and float away; and boards are seldom finii. 
 enough, though at times they may answer well. If the 
 water, after all, does not flow properly over, notches 
 must be cut, in order to make passages for it. 
 
 Separate divisions of meadow occupy the water in 
 succession throughout w inter ; during which, they ough'. 
 all to have received one turn of the water, as above re- 
 commended, if not given in latter autumn. 
 
 In severe frosts, it is not very safe to remove the wa- 
 ter, as it operates so far to protect the grass ; and if ex- 
 posed wet to frost, it might be greatly injured. If it be 
 necessary to alter the water in such weather, let it bo 
 done in the morning of a dry day. 
 
 In spring, every division of the meadow requires to 
 be again watered ; and the fine rich verdure that ap- 
 pears, with the soft unctuous tread of the soil, are indi- 
 cations of advantage being obtauied ; but the appear- 
 ance of a white scum, warns the floater instantly to re- 
 move the water. If the weather be cold at this season, 
 I have seen water continued a fortnight without leaving 
 any scum on the grass, but less time will answer when 
 the weather is warm. In a late season or climate, it is 
 necessary to conthiue the watering to the end of March ; 
 and sometimes in high backward situations, to the end 
 of April. But in the low wann districts, and in favour- 
 able seasons, the operation is finished in February. 
 
 Should the early gi-ass be consumed in pasturage, 
 ewes and lambs answer well to eat it off; the water hav- 
 ing been removed so long as to let the meadow become 
 firm and dry, before any stock is introduced. Young 
 cattle may also be fed on this early grass, giving dry 
 hay at night ; but in general, I do not consider it good 
 management to put in cattle at all, at this season, if the 
 farmer can afford provender for them otherwise. The 
 grass is very soft, and the meadow at this time easily- 
 poached. At any rate, the meadow should be cleared, 
 and the water again floating by the first of May, in or- 
 der to prepare for a crop of good hay. In a veiy late 
 spring, it is better to dispense with the early pasturage, 
 if the farmer have not a particular necessity for it; and 
 to give every degree of encouragement, so as to in- 
 crease the crop of hay, and to obtain it at an early sea- 
 son also, when it may be safer and easier made ; and that 
 also, in time to expect an abundant latter pasture in au- 
 tumn. 
 
 To prepare for this latter pasture, no water should be 
 used, if sheep must be admitted. But if they are ex- 
 cluded, the water may be sent over the meadow for two 
 or three days, more or less, as may appear safe and ne- 
 cessary; and then the meadow left quite dry, till the 
 grass rise, and all be ready for introducing beasts. 
 
 To get these operations performed in summer, is a 
 great object to the judicious farmer, as the length of the 
 day, and frequently fine weather, enable him to make 
 this hay in the best manner. It is also, naturally better 
 in point of sap and colour, when early made. But the 
 only methods that can promote this object effectually, 
 are, to enrich the lands well, and to remove all stock 
 from them early in the season. In both these particu-
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 lars, natural meadows are often very much neglected ; 
 receiving no manure, and being depastured till Whit- 
 sunday, no wonder the hay is late, scanty, and coarse. 
 Well manured meadows, iVom which llie stock is early 
 removed, may sometimes be ready lor tlie sithc in June, 
 frequently in the beginning of July, and always in the 
 course of that month. It is of consequence to have them 
 in ricks, before the Lammas rains commence. 
 
 But I would not recommend to the farmer to cut the 
 hay of water meadows too soon. In this case, the natu- 
 ral softness of it is increased ; it loses a greater pro- 
 portion of weight and substance in making ; and it is 
 less nourishing (though more palatable) for beasts, as I 
 have experienced. I am of opinion, that even rye-grass 
 ought not to be mown for hay, till the flowers be mostly 
 fallen ; and I have found, that when cut sooner the hay 
 loses much in weight. But the hay of watered mea- 
 dows possesses much less fibre than that of rye-grass, 
 and ought not, perhaps, to be mown till some daysafler 
 the bulk of the flowers have dropped. I except what is 
 laid close down, and would spoil, if not mown ; and in 
 mentioning the flowers, I would be understood to mean 
 the flowers of those plants which constitute the bulk 
 and weight of the hay. W'hen most of the flowers are 
 yet on the meadow plants at the time of mowing, the 
 pollen bursts from the anthers in making, and the hay 
 is full of dust, as if it had heated : Besides, the greener 
 hay is when mown, the more trouble and risk there is in 
 making it. The seeds of common poa, and of scented 
 vernal grass, should be nearly ripe, and those of Ho/cus 
 ianatus, half formed before the sithe be applied to those 
 meadows in which these plants much abound. At this 
 time, the seeds of most of the remaining meadow plants 
 will hardly begin to form. But if Sprat prevail much, 
 it should in all cases be mown before the seed knots be- 
 come perceptible. Rye-grass and clover, lose about two 
 thirds of their weight, in drying ; meadow grasses, if 
 thick and rich, lose more. To smooth the surface of 
 the meadows, it is understood, that in case of mole 
 casts having appeared, they were all scattered ; and the 
 surface, if necessary, levelled with a roller in the end 
 of spring. The sithe afterwards cuts clean to the bot- 
 tom, without interruption. 
 
 In making the hay of water meadows, the whole must 
 be spread out equally to dry; then turned lightly with 
 rakes, and in the evening put into very small cocks. 
 Next day it is again spread out, turned a second time 
 with rakes, and in the evening put into larger cocks. 
 In this form, it may safely remain for some days. It is 
 once more spread out, turned, and carted away to the 
 driest spots, where it is put up in summer ricks, con- 
 taining from 20 to 30 stones each rick, of 24 lb. avoirdu- 
 pois, per stone. The rick is secured with four ropes; 
 and in it the hay remains, till it is taken to the winter 
 stack. The dimensions and form of the winter stack are 
 frequently inconvenient. A round form does not admit 
 of cutting away portions, without loosening the bindings ; 
 and when the size is large, the hay is ready to heat : but 
 fine meadow hay, early cut, is the worse for heating, 
 although coarsei- hay may not suffer much injury by that 
 process, and in some cases, may even be improved by it. 
 There is also some danger in the hcatmg of a vast mass 
 of hay all at once, as it may rot, or take fire. The stack 
 ought to be of a rectangular form, ten or twelve feet 
 
 wide, and of any length, placed with one end towards 
 the north, and tlic other towards the south. In this 
 manner the heat of the sun docs not beat on either side, 
 more than another, and the stack does not incline to 
 lean from that circumstan<;c. The owner begins to cui 
 down any portions he tiiinks proper on the north end of 
 the stack ; and he may do so without loosening any of the 
 ropes except the bosom rope, which is easily fixed again. 
 A stack of this moderate brcaillii does not heat, the hay 
 retains its colour and juices, and even the seed remains 
 sound on the grasses. And if only ten feet wide, thirty 
 feet long, and nine feet high when iiuilt, reckoning from 
 the ground to the eaves, exclusive of the head, and thi- 
 whole properly tramped and drawn, such a stack should 
 contain about five hundred stones of 24 lbs. each. The 
 stacks ought to stand parallel to each other, at least ten 
 feet asunder, to allow laden carts to back in between 
 them, and also to admit a free circulation of air in every 
 direction ; and the bottoms ought to be all laid witli 
 stones. I have experience of the convenience of every 
 part of these arrangements. 
 
 The hay of watered meadows is most properly calcu- 
 lated for black cattle, and on it they thrive extremely. 
 But as to profit, undoubtedly any sort of hay that is 
 eaten by sheep in times of snow storms, is most profita- 
 bly given to feed these animals, and to save snow maills.* 
 With respect to horses, it is much better, so far as L 
 have had experience, to feed them on the hay of rye- 
 grass and clover, or on the natural hay of any dry 
 grounds, than on the best meadow hay ; but from what 
 I have heard from others, meadow hay may be used for 
 horses if prudently selected, and moderately allowed, 
 without perceiving nmch inferiority in it for this pur- 
 pose. 
 
 I have never seen milk cows or young cattle prosper 
 better than when fed in winter on turnips, (in moderate 
 quantities,) with plenty of good straw, weaning them 
 gi-adually oft' the turnips, and putting them entirely to 
 fine hay of watered meadows in spring. Such hay for 
 beasts I esteem fully equal to the best hay of rye-grass 
 and clover, but it does not fetch so high a price in the 
 market. The appearance, however, the sweet smell, 
 and the fine pile of rich watered, or top-dressed mea- 
 dows, when the produce has been well made, and at an 
 early season, quite surpass those of the hay of rye-grass 
 and broad clover. 
 
 As the farmer must have it in his power easily to 
 float his meadows, or lay them perfectly dry, at plea- 
 sure, irrigation includes draining as a part of the sys- 
 tem. It also necessarily embraces enclosing, w'ithout 
 which the meadow may sufl"er from the stock, or the 
 stock may be injured by the meadow. When the land 
 is floated, it should be fully done, not attempting too 
 much at a time ; and when laid dry, it should be cleared 
 of every drop of water. By this alternate succession, — 
 of water to enrich, with all its contents and elementary 
 powers, or to maintahi the temperature most favourable 
 to vegetation, — followed by free air, sun, and light, — 
 the plants not only rise in abundance, but also. prosper 
 to a high degree. And hardly any soil, however amply 
 or expensively manured, returns such weighty crops of 
 hay and paslui'e, as watered meadows : Their ample 
 produce going, in the mean time, to enrich the other 
 contiguous soils ; w hilc on the meadows, no manure 
 
 • Snow main, is the sum paid by a sheep farmer, to any possessor of low grounds, for permitting- the sheep to feed tlieve, in time 
 of deep snow. 
 
 S s 3
 
 ;324 
 
 AGRICULTUKE. 
 
 •whatever is bestowed, except such a.s the water contains. 
 In the practice of inigation, it has been established, 
 that meadows require a nuich greater proportio]i of days 
 throughout the year to be dry, than to be floated ; and 
 this proportion seems to vary according to circum- 
 stances, in the soil, water, and climate; but the periods 
 of watering seem to run between six and nine weeks in 
 the whole year, all the dilVerent periods of floating being 
 included. 
 
 It is evident, that water, as a mere element, raises 
 the temperature during winter, so long as it is capable 
 of resisting the frost, that arrests the course qf vegeta- 
 tion in general. In summer it is equally evident, that 
 moderate watering corrects that extreme droughl, 
 which tends to wither die grass ; and by supplying 
 moisture and nutiiment equal to the growth and per- 
 spiration, the vessels are prevented from shrinking be- 
 fore the drought. It is known, that, in drying, the hay 
 of watered meadows loses more weight than the hay of 
 other meadows exactly similar in point of soil, but not 
 watered. Water may therefore be useful as a mere 
 element, for protecting and nourishing grass, to a cer- 
 tain degree. But when mud is difi'used in it, or calca- 
 reous matters dissolved, and the grass has the power of 
 straining these substances out of the water, their effects 
 may readily be conceived. 
 
 When searched of all its mud and other matters 
 which it holds dissolved, in as far as the grass has that 
 power, the fluid is called 'used water' by the workmen, 
 and considered inferior to fresh water for irrigation. It 
 is certain, that close by the iLcders, the grass on the 
 ridges of floated meadows exceeds that which grows by 
 the drains ; but the workmen do not always appear to 
 consider that the soil is constantly deeper near the small 
 feeders on the crowns of those ridges ; and that during 
 winter, the water must also have had its temperature 
 diminished, on account of its spreading over the surface, 
 by the time it reaches the drain. I have noticed indeed, 
 that the turbid water is flltercd on the grass, and be- 
 comes more clear, so that it must have parted with its 
 mud and sediment; and I have also thought that the 
 water tasted more flat, or vapid, after passing over a 
 considerable surface of grass lands. But watering also 
 appears to assist in the putrefaction of dead substances 
 in the soil, which manure the living plants, and when 
 thus decomposed, and reduced into their original ele- 
 nr.cnts, are fit to form new coml>inations." 
 
 Dr Singers, after stating, that the extent of watered 
 meadows on the duke of Buccleuch's estate, in the 
 above districts, was 415 English acres, says, that " irri- 
 gation was more frequently attended to in Scotland, be- 
 fore the genei'al use of lime and marl. It extirpated 
 broom and moss (fog) ; and prepared the soil for oats ; 
 llie grain, however, was generally considered husky 
 and late. There was no particular plan of watering ; 
 the operation being conducted mostly in catch-work, 
 and according to the form of the surface, and fancy of 
 the operator. 
 
 At the present time, the object of watering is to raise 
 large crops of grass. Mr Stevens has introduced the 
 regular mode of watering, by flat-flooding, into the duke 
 of Buccleuch's estate ; but at the same time, he has re- 
 course to the method of watering in catch-work, when 
 circumstances arc such as to reqviire it. 
 
 If the charges incurred in the mechanical depart- 
 ment of the formation of all these meadows, be stated at 
 five. poutKls per Ticre, it js probably not far from the 
 
 average. Thero have been some which have risen to 
 seven pounds, when there was iiuich cart and spade- 
 work to do ; while others have been laid out at a very 
 low rate. All these expenses arc defrayed by the te- 
 nants. The duke allows Mr Stevens a salary, as the 
 general superintendent of his works on these mea- 
 dows. 
 
 The annual returns, at present, may be safely esti- 
 mated at 150 stone of hay, of 24lbs. avoirdupois in the 
 stone, for every English acre of meadow. Some of 
 them rise above 200 stone, and others fall as low as 100 
 stone, or even less, being as yet unproductive, in conse- 
 quence of unfavourable circumstances. But the average 
 return probably rises above 150 stone. It must be re- 
 membered, however, that the returns of these meadows 
 do not consist wholly of hay. I am disposed to think, 
 that the returns in pasture, exclusive of the hay, do not 
 in general fall short of the full value of the soil in its 
 original unimproved state. 
 
 The annual expenses incurred in keeping up the 
 works on these meadows may be considered, at an 
 average, about five shillings per acre. 
 
 Having stated these general averages of charges and 
 of returns, which are not given as correct, but only as 
 approximating near the truth, according to my informa- 
 tion and remarks, I shall now observe, that the total 
 amount of expenses incurred on these meadows, by the 
 operations at their formation, may be considered as 
 rising above 2000/.; that the annual charges of uphold- 
 ing, may be stated at 100/. and upwards ; and that the 
 returns of hay, exclusive of pasture, may be calculated 
 as exceeding 60,000 stone. 
 
 The value of this hay made, and at market prices, must 
 be above sixpence per stone which is 1500/. a year. 
 But it is fair to deduct about one-fourth part for the 
 expense of making, which reduces the returns in hay to 
 about 1125/. a year, estimating it at the present low 
 prices of 1806 for meadow hay, iu the markets of Dum- 
 fries-shire. • 
 
 As food for sheep in deep snows, the value of this 
 hay is nearly double the above value. A stone of it 
 maintains a score of sheep for anight, as the shepherds 
 generally compute ; and storemaslers generally pay 
 about a shilling per score each night, for a place cf re- 
 treat for the sheep, during deep snows. In this view, 
 the hay of these meadows would support 60,000 sheep 
 in severe weather, during twenty days. Tiie benefit of 
 this relief, during a serious emergency, is not to be es- 
 timated below 3000/. How often such an emergency 
 may occur, no person can pretend to foresee." 
 
 Dr Singers concludes a most able and animated re- 
 port, with the following estimate of the benefits of the 
 watered meadows. 
 
 " To state this in a candid and impartial manner, wc 
 must mention whatever operates either for or against 
 them. 
 
 1st, The expense of laying out and enclosing these 
 meadows is the principal obstacle. But whenthis ex- 
 pense is moderate, and the meadow succeeds well, a 
 single year's crop almost or entirely defrays the charges. 
 When matters are less favourable, they may still be li- 
 quidated in two or three seasons. And when the ex- 
 pense is very low, the first year more than pays it; as 
 must have been the case in various instances, where 
 these meadows were clone in catch-work, and succeed- 
 ed well. But if the forming and enclosing should not 
 bo fully compensated in less than fotjr or five years,
 
 AGRICLLTURE. 
 
 ■Si 2 J 
 
 there is reason still to expect iliat the tenant will be 
 reimbursed. 
 
 2d, The attention which becomes necessary to the 
 watered meadows, in upholding them, and conductiiii!; 
 the wiiteruig process, is mentioned as an incumbrance. 
 I admit the fact, but what does the farmer obtain with- 
 out attention ? Let him consider the pains and trouble 
 he must undergo in manuring, fallowing, sowing, and 
 reaping, from arable soils; and in preserving and bring- 
 ing into use the respective crops which he raises from 
 them. But with respect to watered meadows, if a few 
 of them are situated contiguous to each other, a com- 
 mon labourer emplojed to uphold and water them all, 
 effectually removes this difficulty ; and in other cases a 
 common farm-servant will very soon Icarn to attend to 
 the ordinary matters that require his notice. 
 
 5d, The danger of occasioning the rot among sheep 
 has been mentioned as an objection to irrigation ; but 
 this was done only by such as were not properly inform- 
 ed. P'or no person can state such an objection, who 
 considers the facts, — that these meadows are all enclosed, 
 with only an exception of one or two ; and that no sum- 
 mer watering is admitted on them, or any instance to be 
 heard of sheep being seized with the rot, except one, 
 when sumtner watering for once was tried. 
 
 4th, I have heard it alleged, that the hay of. watered 
 meadows is not wholesome food for horses ; that it breaks 
 their wind ; and that a carrier rejects it on this account. 
 In reply to this allegation, it may be stated, that in- 
 stances are given in the survey, of respectable persons 
 having fed horses with such hay from their watered 
 meadows as they judged proper to give them, without 
 any detriment being sustained. If horses eat too gree- 
 dily even of corn, their wind must be broken ; and pe- 
 rennial red clover swells in the stomach, and miglithavc 
 produced a similar eflect, when too liberally given. But 
 at any rate, it may be asked, wliy raise an objection 
 against the hay of these meadows on account of carriers' 
 horses, for which that produce was certainly r.ot intend- 
 ed? If it answer the sheep in the lirst instance, and the 
 black cattle in the next, every oljjeetion of this sort 
 is removed. The farmer who sells hay to carriers, may 
 sell his hay of rye-grass and clover, and make use of 
 that of his meatlows. 
 
 In behalf of the system of watering, the following ar- 
 guments occm-, which it is hoped will be admitted to be 
 well grounded, viz. 
 
 1st, There is an increase in the quantity of hay, which 
 ?nablesthe farmer to sell part of it for money. 
 
 2d, If the fanner prefer wintering cattle, he may sup- 
 port a greater number, or he may feed them in a more 
 liberal maimer. And in this district, in smiimer so fer- 
 tile in grass, and in winter so abounding in storms, this 
 consideration is of material importance, as a well win- 
 tered beast yields more net profit, than any two which 
 have been poorly fed, in that inclement season. 
 
 3d, The additional hay raised, increases the quan- 
 tity of farm manure, the advantages of which are soon 
 perceived in the supcriorproduce of the manured crops. 
 
 4th, If an early growth of meadow-gras enables ihc 
 farmer to put in weak ewes during spring, he may find 
 such a convenience of great value, for the preservation 
 of the lambs. 
 
 5th, The pasturage of these meadows, after the hay is 
 removed, is generally found to be so profitable, as to 
 balance the original pasturage of the meadow grounds, 
 throughout the year. 
 
 6th, To feed sheep, the hay of these meadows is of 
 importance, in so far as it saves the expense of snow 
 retreats ; which, for these numerous stocks, arc now 
 hardly to be obtained. 
 
 7th, The risk is a more serious matter in such a case, 
 than the expenses to be incurred ; and this risk is always 
 obviated to a ceitain extent, by means of the meadow 
 hay. Should the storemaster neither be able to find hay, 
 nor to bespeak a retreat for his flock, what would he then 
 give to obviate the risk of immediate loss of sheep 
 through famine, or of heavy losses in spring, occasioned 
 by the reduction which want causes, in the health and 
 condition of his flock ? It is far from absurd, to put such 
 a case ; and every storemaster will admit the hazard. It 
 is to be wished that these dangerous emergencies should 
 very seldom occur; let not the prudent farmer, however, 
 disregard them." 
 
 We now come to another branch of irrigation, pro- 
 vincially called warjiing, which is one of the greatest 
 improvements that can be exercised, adding to the value 
 and thickness of the soil every time it is repeated. In 
 fact, a new soil is artificially created by the operation to 
 be treated of, and of a quality superior to that of every 
 natural one. It is only in certain situations, however, 
 that warping can be used; but where such an opportu- 
 nity occurs, it ought never to be omitted. The expense 
 varies according to situation, but can never in the slight- 
 est degree be compared with the immciise benefit de- 
 rived from it. 
 
 Warping originated in Yorkshire, and is carried on 
 there to a great extent, especially upon the banks of the 
 river Ousc, between York and the Huniljer. When in 
 that district, the writer of this article had an opporlunity 
 of examining and ascertaining the ditTcrent branches of 
 that valuable operation, all of which delighted him much, 
 as th.cir effect was precisely the same upon a poor soil 
 as those of the greatest natural value. The river Ouse, 
 from the circumstance of its receiving into its bed most 
 of the Yorkshire waters, is constantly stored with mud 
 and all sorts of aUuvial matter; and these being stirred 
 and kept in motion by the tide, which flows higher than 
 York, are conveyed over the adjoining grounds, which 
 are flat and easily flooded. Embankments, however, are> 
 previously required before warping can be executed ; 
 and these embankments are made of earth taken from 
 the land, and built with a slope of three feet on each 
 side for every perpendicular foot of rise. There are 
 more or fewer openings in the banks according to the 
 extent of ground proposed to be warped; but, in gene- 
 ral, two sluices arc only necessary, one called the flood- 
 gate to admit, the other called the clough to let o(f the 
 water. When the spring tide begins to ebli, the flood- 
 gate is opened to admit the water, while the clough is 
 kept close by the flow, or tide. As the tide ebbs down 
 the river, the pressure upon the outside is taken from 
 the clough, when the weight of water admitted by the 
 flood-gate pushes open the clough, and is discharged 
 slowly through it. The doughs are so constructed, as 
 to let the water run ofl" between the ebb of one tide, and 
 the flow of another; and to tiiis point particular attention 
 is paid. The flood-gates are placed above the level of 
 common tides, it being only the water of spring tides 
 that is admitted. 
 
 It will be understood, from what is stated, that warp 
 consists of the mud and salts left by the water that has 
 been admitted; and that the technical phrase 'ii-ar/iing; 
 comprehends all the processes necessary to admit the
 
 526 
 
 AGRICULTURE, 
 
 tide water, anil to deposit its sediment upon the field 
 that is meant to be improved. Letting in fresh water 
 would not be called warping, but simply flooding. Fresh 
 water, though usel'ul at proper seasons, would by no 
 means answer the same purpose as river water stirred up 
 by the tide ; because it never could furnish a sufficient 
 sediment for thickening the soil ; neither would the sedi- 
 ment left be of so rich a nature as what is furnished by 
 tide watei-. 
 
 A more complete detail of the diflcrcnt operations, as 
 t;iven in the West York Survey, w ill throw additional 
 light upon this subject. 
 
 These details were chiefly furnished by the right ho- 
 nourable lordHawke,a nobleman of distinguished merit, 
 and who had the agricultural interest of Britain much at 
 heart; though imibrtunately, by his death, the country- 
 is now deprived of the eminent talents which he pos- 
 sessed. 
 
 Lord Haivke's Account of the War/iing of Land. 
 
 "The land to be warped must be banked round 
 against the river. The banks arc made of the earth ta- 
 ken on the spot from the land : they must slope six feet; 
 that is, three feet on each side of their top or crown of 
 the bank, for every foot perpendicular of rise: their lop 
 or crown is broader or narrower, according to the im- 
 petuosity of the tide, and the weight and quantity of 
 ■water; and it extends from two feet to twelve: their 
 height is regulated by the height to which the spring 
 tides flow, so as to exclude or let them in at pleasure. 
 In those banks, there are more or fewer openings, ac- 
 cording to the size of the ground to be warped, and to 
 the choice of the occupier; but in general they have only 
 two sluices, one, called the flood-gate, to admit, the other, 
 called the clough, to let oft' the water gently ; these are 
 enough for ten or fifteen acres: When the spring tide 
 begins to ebb, the flood-gate is open to admit the tide, 
 the clough having been previously shut by the weight 
 of water brought up the river by the flow of the tide. 
 As the tide ebbs down the river, the weight or pressure 
 of water being taken from the outside of the clough next 
 the river, the "tide water that has been previously admit- 
 ted by the flood-gate opens the clough again, and dis- 
 charges itself slowly, but completely through it. The 
 clou^hs are so constructed as to let the water run off, 
 between the ebb of the tide that was admitted, and the 
 flow of the next; and to this point particular attention is 
 paid : the flood-gates are placed so high as only to let in 
 the spring tides when opened. They are placed above 
 the level of the common tides. 
 
 Willows are also occasionally planted on the front 
 of the banks, to break the force of the tide, and de- 
 fend the banks by raising the front of them with warp 
 thus collected and accumulated : but these willows must 
 never be planted on the banks, as they would destroy 
 the banks by giving the winds power to shake them. 
 
 The land warped is of every quality ; but to be pro- 
 perly warped it must be situated within the reach of the 
 spring tides, and on a level lower than the level of their 
 flow. ' The land in general is not warped above one year 
 in seven ; a year's warping will do for that time. 
 
 The land is as other land, various as to the preference 
 of grain to be sown on it. Land has been raised consi- 
 derably by warping; one field of bad corn-land, good for 
 nothing, was raised in three years fourteen inches : it lay 
 idle for that time that it might be raised by warping, it 
 
 was so-vn with beans, and promised by appearance a crop 
 of eight quarters. If possible this shall be ascertained 
 as to the quantity thrashed. 
 
 The warp consists of the mud and salts deposited by 
 the ebbing tide : near Howden one tide will deposit an 
 inch of nmd, and this deposit is more or less according 
 to the distance of the place from the Ilumber. 
 
 Cherry Cob Sands were gained from the Ilumber by 
 warping : They are supposed to be four yards thick of 
 warp at least; some of those were ploughed for twelve, 
 fourteen, or sixteen years, before they would grow grass- 
 seeds : the greater part is now in feeding land, and makes 
 very fine pastures. 
 
 The land must be in tillage for some considerable 
 time after warping, for six years at least. The land il 
 laid down to grass, and continued in grass, is not warp- 
 ed ; for the salts in the mud would infallibly kill the 
 grass seeds. 
 
 When it is proposed to sow the land again with corfl, 
 then the land is warped : when they find the grass de- 
 cline, then they warp and plough it out : as the land va- 
 ries in quality, so does the time during which it will pro- 
 duce good grass: the land is never fallowed but in the 
 year when it is warped. 
 
 For a view of a clough, see Mr Young's Northern 
 Tour, Vol. I. Plate III. p. 212. The flood-gates and 
 sluices for letting in the water are like the common 
 sluices and gates in canals for raising the water to 
 assist the passage of boats ; sometimes also the flood- 
 gates or sluices are placed above the clough perpen- 
 dicularly. 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 On Enclosures, anrf Woods, or Plantations of Tim- 
 ber Trees. 
 
 These subjects, though not strictly of one nature, 
 are so connected together, that they may with pro- 
 priety be treated of in one Chapter. The majority of 
 enclosures in Britain being made by planting thorn 
 hedges ; and as all w oods and plantations should be com- 
 pletely fenced, so that they may thrive and prove pro- 
 ductive, the subjects which are included in this Chap- 
 ter are therefore not so incompatible as at first sight 
 may appear. 
 
 Sect. I. 
 
 On Enclosures. 
 
 Enclosures, with some trifling exceptions, are formed 
 in Britain by building stone walls, or planting thorn 
 hedges. According to the first method, the walls are 
 either of dry stone, or of stone and lime ; and in the last 
 instance, lime is either used only in bedding the out- 
 ward part of the wall, or applied to the whole of it, as 
 circumstances may render necessary. These walls are 
 eitl^r coped with sod, or have a cope which tapers to 
 the top,dosely built with stone and lime, or the coping 
 is executed in what is called the Galloway fashion, with 
 large irregular stones, according to the taste and dispo- 
 sitions of the persons by whom they are erected. A wall 
 built with stone and lime is undoubtedly the preferable 
 fence ; but the expense far exceeds the value of tlie m- 
 terest which a tenant generally has in the premises. 
 Such walls ought therefore, in every case, to be erected
 
 AGRICIJLTUllK. 
 
 327 
 
 by ihe proprietor, who thus increases the value of his 
 properly, in a direct proportion with the increased value 
 given to the land, by the erection of such fences. Ge- 
 nerally speakinij, proprietors have not been very for- 
 ward with such improvements, but have thrown them 
 upon the shoulders of the tenantry as often as the latter 
 would undertake them. Hence the bad state of fences 
 in many districts. The tenant having only a limited 
 interest m their success, executes the erection at the 
 least possible expense, and without any regard to their 
 permanence. 
 
 To render a stone wall useful as a fence, its height 
 ought never to be less than five feet three inches, other- 
 wise it will not keep in many of the breeds of sheep 
 which prevail in the country. In erecting the fence, 
 great care ought to be taken to build upon a solid 
 foundation, otherwise the wall is apt to incline to aside, 
 and gradually to fall down. The coping should be 
 made close ; for if water gets down the inside of the 
 wall, it will bulge out, and finally go to ruin. To bed 
 the stones sufficiently, and to give each a hold of the 
 other, arc likewise matters of importance when walls 
 are built; the duration of the wall depending entirely 
 upon the attention given to the particulars which we 
 have mentioned. 
 
 On Thorn Hedges. 
 
 A thorn hedge makes an excellent fence, when once 
 trained up and brought to maturity; but the length of 
 time which elapses before it can prove of much benefit, 
 and the great expense incurred in training it up, render 
 such a fence not much cheaper than a stone wall ; espe- 
 cially if the loss from the want of it in the first instance 
 is duly estimated. The price of such a fence, however, 
 being gradually expended by the farmer, he is not so 
 sensible of its amount as of that of a stone wall, and is 
 therefore generally disposed to give a preference to the 
 former. If the several expenses belonging to hedges, 
 and the extent of ground wasted by this mode of fenc- 
 ing, are fully considered, we are not certain that the ba- 
 lance will be much in favour of them as fences. At all 
 events, a stone wall is useful in the first year, whereas 
 a dozen at least must elapse before a hedge can be of 
 much benefit. 
 
 When a thorn hedge is to be planted, it is of advan- 
 tage to fallow the ground a year before hand ; and if the 
 soil is poor, to dress it with dung, so that the young 
 plants may not be oppressed with weeds, or stunted for 
 want of food, when weak and unable to send forth their 
 fibres in search of nourishment. These things being 
 attended to, and the hedge planted, an annual cleaning 
 ought to be given ; sometimes two cleanings are neces- 
 sary before the hedge will thrive. It is also necessary 
 to fence it at the back with paling, that beasts may be 
 restrained from going over it, and to switch it over 
 when two or three years of age, in order that it may be 
 kept close at the bottom. It may be remarked, that a 
 gap once made is never effectually filled up; and there- 
 fore the utmost care ought to be exerted to keep cattle 
 of all kinds from making trespasses. As the hedge 
 grows up, repeated cuttings are necessary, so that a 
 wide bottom may be gained, without which no hedge 
 can be considered as a suitable fence ; and some atten- 
 tion is required to give a proper shape to the top, which 
 is a matter of much importance to the welfare of the 
 hedge. When thorns arc allowed to grow to uneqvial 
 
 heights, the sliong plants are sure to smoihcr the weak 
 ones; and when the hedge becomes broad at the top, it 
 retains water and snow, to (he great injury of the planrt/. 
 All these evils may be avoided by proper management; 
 though, as we have already said, twelve years must 
 elapse before the best managed hedge can be considered 
 as a sufficient fence; and in may cases double tiiat time 
 must intervene betwixt planting and perfection. Upon 
 many soils, the most arduous endeavours will not make 
 a fence from thorns, though this, alter all, depends much 
 upon the attention bestowed at the outset. If once mar- 
 red in its growth by carelessness and negligence, it is 
 hardly practicable to make up for former errors by addi- 
 tional diligence. In fact, it is an easier business to 
 root up the old hedge, and train up a new one, than te 
 recover a hedge which has been mismanaged, or suffer- 
 ed to get into bad condition, from want of attention to 
 the cleaning and cutting processes. 
 
 Sect. II. 
 
 On Woods., or Plantations of Timber Trees. 
 
 The necessity of having a sufficient stock of timber 
 for making husbandry utensils, by which the ground 
 may be cultivated ; for erecting houses, wherein the 
 people may be sheltered from the inclemency of the 
 weather; and for building ships for national defence, 
 and carrying on trade, is so well known, that it is totally 
 unnecessary to say one word on that subject; but it is 
 matter of regret at this time, when we are likely to be 
 deprived of all foreign supplies, that the quantity of Bri- 
 tish timber is daily decreasing, while little attention is 
 bestowed in planting trees for future consumption, so 
 that the nation may be secured in a suitable supply of 
 timber, for the purposes already mentioned. This ne- 
 glect arises from the circumstance, that those who plant 
 timber trees very rarely cut them, and can only be cor- 
 rected by a legislative enactment, viz. that every landed 
 proprietor shall have such a portion of his property in 
 woodland, leaving it to them to plant such trees as are 
 most suitable for the soil, climate, and situation of their 
 respective properties. 
 
 It would be well if the present state of political affairs 
 induced the legislature to take up the subject imme- 
 diately, and to provide a remedy such as we have point- 
 ed out, otherwise the state of the country may be truly 
 lamentable at a future period, if foreign supplies are 
 wholly interdicted. It is sufficiently evident, that tim- 
 ber is daily decreasing in quantity at home ; because its 
 price has recently advanced much beyond any alteration 
 in the value of money, which is the sure criterion for 
 ascertaining any thing of this kind. Within the last 
 thirty years, timber has quintupled its price ; whereas 
 the value of corn, the staff of lite, has hardly been dou- 
 bled within that period. This sufficiently proves, that 
 tlie quantitv of the one article in hand is much below 
 that of the other; because, had an equal affinity been 
 preserved, the money value of the one would have been 
 exactly the same as that of the other. 
 
 The subject is rather of a melancholy nature ; because 
 a deficiency of timber cannot be speedily supplied, like 
 a deficiency of corn or butcher meat, that are necessary 
 for man's existence; though it is plain, without demon- 
 stration, that the longer the cure is delayed, the longer 
 will the nation be deprived of a sufficient supply of tim- 
 ber. We arc not disposed to be advocates for cumpul-
 
 328 
 
 AGIMCULTLIIE. 
 
 sator) measures; because we judt^c, in ordinai-y cases, 
 that every man ought to be Iclt to nianat;e private pro- 
 perty as lie pleases; but Salus JiopuH siijircma lex being 
 a standard maxim, occasions us to declare decidedly in 
 favour oi legislative interlcrencc in this instance, espe- 
 cially as we arc convinced that the ordinary principles 
 which govern mankind, cannot operate in the present 
 case, the profits Ironi planting being distant and adven- 
 titious. 
 
 Having insisted so far upon t'ne propriety of legisla- 
 tive interference, with respect to the planting of limber 
 trees, we shall say a few words concerning the methods 
 of planting, and the probable success which may thence 
 be expected. 
 
 When a piaiitation of timber is to be formed, the first 
 step necessary is to fence the ground, that is to be 
 piaiitcd, so that cattle of all kinds may be kept from 
 making inroads. The ground to be planted ought to be 
 completely fallowed on the preceding yciir, and, ii in a 
 iTiigh or waste state, two years' fallowing will be useful. 
 If wet or boggy, open drains ought to be dug through 
 all the hollowplaces, so that superfluous moisture may 
 be removed. These operations being performed, the 
 planting may proceed, in executing which, great care 
 should be taken to make the pits of a proper size; and, 
 in filling them up, that the best earth be returned near- 
 est the roots. A mixture of timber, in llie same planta- 
 tion, is always advantageous, and thick planting is eligi- 
 ble, for the purpose of affording shelter. As the plan- 
 tation gets forward, attention must be paid to thinning 
 and pruning- the trees, removing always those first that 
 are either sickly or debilitated ; and, in this way, and 
 by exercising constant attention in the management, 
 timber trees will advance with double rapidity, than 
 v/hen neglected and overlooked. It has been aptly said, 
 that much expense is often incurred in planting trees, 
 which is afterwards lost by neglecting to train them up. 
 Trees, indeed, arc, in most cases, put into the earth, and 
 then left to themselves to grow or die; whereas with 
 them, as with all other plants, the fostering hand of man 
 is indispensably called for in every stage of growth, 
 otherwise they will rarely arrive at perfection, or make 
 that return to the owner, which may be reasonably ex- 
 pected, when the several processes of planting, pruning, 
 and thinning, are duly exercised. 
 
 It may be observed, that planting trees in hedge-rows 
 is not only prejudicial to fences, but of great detriment 
 to corn-crops cultivated in fields surrounded by these 
 hedge-rows, especially if the fields are of a small size; 
 a practice which improperly prevails in many English 
 counties. If shelter is wanted for a field, the best way 
 of procuring it is to form belts, or strips of planting, 
 from fifty to sixty feet wide; for timber trees thrive 
 much better than when planted in rows, or in narrow 
 strips. All cold or moorish soils are greatly benefited 
 by being enclosed in tliis way ; though it may be re- 
 marked that small enclosures ought to be avoided, be- 
 cause they occasion a great waste of ground without af- 
 fording benefit in other respects proportional to the 
 heavy expense entailed upon the proprietor or tenant, 
 for supporting such a number of unnecessary fences. 
 
 Having already described, in as circumstantial a man- 
 ner as the limits of this article allowed, the present 
 state of British husbandry, we shall now point out the 
 Cbstrucj.ions which impede its progress to fnriher per- 
 
 fection. In South Britain, these obstructions are nume- 
 rous; all tending to stop tlie improvement of the soil, 
 and to lessen the value of landed property. Beside the 
 want of leases, and the general nature of covenants, 
 which govern the tenantry, the influence of poor-rates, 
 tyUies, and other public burdens, is hostile to agricultu- 
 ral improvement. In addition to these, the extent of 
 land held upon common-field tenure, together with tliat 
 legally kept in a state of waste, and comparatively in 
 an unproductive condition, all render tlie husbandry of 
 South Britain much inferior to what might be expected 
 under the circumstances of soil, climate, and markets, 
 with which the country is favoured. 
 
 In a preceding part of this article, we made some ob- 
 servations upon the pernicious consequences arising to 
 husbandry Irom the want of leases, and showed, that the 
 general tendency of restrictive covenants was inimical 
 to improvement, and even adverse to the interest of 
 those who imposed them. Referring to what was then 
 stated, we shall now say a few words upon the inexpe- 
 diency and inutility of keeping land in a commonable 
 state, and the pernicious consequences which flow from 
 burdening it with tythes and poor-rates, according to 
 the present system. In our opinion, bgth these burdens 
 might be arranged in such a way as not to stop hnprove- 
 ment in the slightest manner; and, perhaps, it would 
 not be a difficult afl'air to place the whole land of the 
 kingdom in a state of severalty, were the legislature 
 disposed to take up the business in a decisive manner, 
 or to view it as one which materially afl'ected the gene- 
 ral welfare. 
 
 In the first place, so long as the tenth of produce is 
 exacted from the farmer, it is unrcasoPiable to expect 
 that agriculture will be much improved; because \Q fur 
 cent., upon the general run of improvements, is, of itself, 
 a great profit, after the ordinary expenses are defrayed. 
 No person, therefore, will step out of the beaten path, 
 so long as the profits of improvement are to be drawn 
 by another, who is not at any part of the expense, who 
 runs none of the risk, and who experiences none of the 
 trouble attending the improvement, except what neces- 
 sarily accompanies the receipt of an increased quantity 
 of produce. The writer of this article has thought a 
 good deal upon this subject, and viewed it in all the va- 
 rious lights in which it can present itself to the public 
 eye. His sentiments are not hostile to the owners ol 
 tythes, whether laymen or clergymen, and he would b( 
 the last man in the country who v.ould advise, that pri- 
 vate property should be sacrificed without a suitable re- 
 compense, even though a great public good were thus 
 to be accomplished. Under these impressions, the fol- 
 lowing plan for commuting tythe into a share of actual 
 rent is humbly offered to public consideration, which, if 
 carried into execution, may completely remove the evil 
 attending the tythe system, without injuring the rights 
 of tho.se who are at present entitled to draw the tenth of 
 the produce. Without insisting upon the subject, it shall 
 be concisely stated, without argument, leaving it to 
 stand or fall upon its own merits. 
 
 Tythe, though apparently an equal tax, is, in reality, 
 more unequal than any tax yet devised. On poor soils, 
 the tenth of the crop, though nominally exigible, upon 
 the same ratio, is more severely felt by the possessor 
 than when paid from good soils. To those who have 
 studied the subject, an explanation may be superfluous: 
 but to others, who are not so versant in political eeono-
 
 AGIUCULTURE. 
 
 3-29 
 
 my, it cannot be improper to elucidate an opinion whicli, 
 at first sight, may have a paradoxical appearance. 
 
 All poor soils, like land, in its natural state, require 
 considerable outlays before they can be rendered com- 
 paratively fertile and productive. There is not much 
 hazarded in maintaining, that live quarters per acre will 
 be gained at less expense upon rich loams and clays, 
 than three quarters per acre IVonj thin clay and moorish 
 soils. These inferior soils recjuire more manure, more 
 labour, as much if not more, seed than soils of the first 
 description, consequently the disposable balance, from 
 which tythe must be paid, is out of all bounds diminished. 
 In the one case, tythe will amount to about 17 jter cent. 
 on the disposable produce ; whereas, in the other, it will 
 be found not less than 32 /tcr cent, a difference which 
 few people ever trouble themselves to calculate. Wish- 
 ing to make ourselves perfectly understood, a few figures 
 in illustration of the argument are subjoined. 
 
 Take the crop on a rich field of loam or clay at 5 
 quarters per acre on an average, inde 5 qrs. bush. 
 
 Deduct seed, on an ave- 
 rage of grains, 4 bush. 
 
 Corn for working stock, 6 
 
 Ditto for farm servants, 3 
 
 Ditto for incidental ex- 
 penses, such as harvest 
 Work, tear and wear, 
 &c. 4 
 
 which leaves a disposable balance of two quarters seven 
 bushels per acre, as a fund from which tythe can be paid. 
 But as the whole crop is tythable, the amount thereof 
 is four bushels, or nearly 17 fier cent, on the disposable 
 produce. 
 
 Take the crop on thin clay or moorish soil, at three 
 quarters on an average, inde 3 qrs. 
 
 Deduct seed, 4 bush. 
 
 Horse corn, 6 
 
 Farm servants, 3 
 
 Incidents, 3 
 
 — 2 
 
 which leaves a disposable balance of one quarter per 
 acre, as a fund, from which tythe can be paid. The 
 tythe of three quarters is two bushels two pecks, or 
 thereby,or nearly 32 /ler cent, on the disposable produce ; 
 though, in the last case, the incidental expenses are 
 stated at one bushel per acre less than in the other, 
 which, where good management is practised, may be a 
 questionable circumstance. 
 
 Thus it appears, that the possessor of a good soil, 
 who raises five quartei'^ per acre, pays tythe, when it is 
 collected in kind, at the rate of 17 jier cent, of the grain 
 remaining on hand, after the expenses of working the 
 same are defrayed ; while the possessor of inferior soils, 
 who raises three quarters per acre, pays at the rate of 
 32 p.er cent, though the tax, at first sight, is precisely 
 the same in both cases. After this statement, which, it 
 is presumed, as a general illustration, will not be found 
 far from the truth, can it excite surprise, that waste 
 l^nds, and inferior soils, remain unimproved among our 
 southern neighbours ? 
 
 Vox. I. Part. I. 
 
 We might now show in what respect tythcs prevent 
 the cultivation of waste lands, were we not fuily sensible, 
 that few people are so ignorant as to deny the truth of 
 this proposition. Indeed, to attack tylhes merely upon 
 account of their consequences, is little better than attack- 
 ing a man of straw, who is incapable of making the 
 slightest defence. It is not concerning their utility or 
 expediency that economists dispute. Upon this point, 
 almost every one is agreed, who has investigated the 
 subject. The diflference, which prevails, arises entirely 
 from the difficulty of making a just arrangement, whero 
 so many interests are concerned. If tythes, however, 
 prevent the improvement of the country, or, in other 
 words, occasion the national stock to be less than it 
 would be if they ceased to operate, every friend to his 
 country will join in declaring, that a remedy ought to 
 be sought after ; nay, even if a strong measure is neces- 
 sary to remove such an extensive evil, that it is an in- 
 cumbent duty upon the government of the countiy to 
 put such in execution. 
 
 After having fully conceded the right of impropriators, 
 it cannot be supposed, that, in proposing a commutation 
 of tythes, we are in the smallest manner hostile to their 
 interest. The holders are entitled to a full compensa- 
 tion, if the tax were to be abolished; and it is for their 
 real interest, that an adjustment should be made. The 
 unproductive state of such an extensive portion of the 
 national property does not serve them ; nor is it practi- 
 cable to collect the full value of tythes, were laws mul- 
 tiplied ad injtniium. 
 
 Perhaps it is the difficulty, not the inexpediency, of a 
 commutation, which has hitherto prevented such a salu- 
 tary measure from being enacted. It has been proposed 
 to value all the tythes presently paid, and to make that 
 valuation the rule of payment in all time coming. But 
 to this it is objected, that no regard is thus paid to the 
 gradual depreciation of money, and consequently that the 
 real value of the payment might be annually dimin- 
 ished. The plan established in Scotland has been also 
 recommended ; but though this would effectually re- 
 move the evil, yet, as the right of impropriators is now 
 better secured than in Charles I.'s days, it is evident, 
 that such a plan stands little chance of being adopted. 
 Again, acorn rent has been proposed by several people ; 
 and by others, that a certain part of all tythable land 
 should be set apart, instead of an annual payment. To 
 both these modes of adjustment, strong, and in oi r 
 opinion, valid objections may be offered. Corn is but an 
 awkward article for clergymen to deal in, and, at any 
 rate, such a mode of payment could not apply to pas- 
 ture and waste land. Besides, it would open a door 
 for constant discussions about the quality of the article 
 delivered. The other mode of adjustment, viz. giving 
 land instead of tythe, would, so far as the clergy are 
 concerned, be still worse in a national view. It would 
 put such a quantity of land in a state of mortmain, as 
 might increase the evil which the commutation meant 
 to correct. 
 
 From these considerations, it appears, that no method 
 can be devised for regulating tythes sufficient to remove 
 the evils attendant upon the present system, and secure 
 so effectually the mterest of all parties, as a general 
 law fixing a payment in money, according to the rentals 
 of the land from which tythes are exigible. Such a 
 plan, carried into execution, would do away the com- 
 plaint, that tythes obstruct improvement. It would allow 
 the proprietor to receive the full value of his company 
 T t
 
 3t) 
 
 AGlUCLAiTLUK 
 
 roiir.cni ; secure ilie lyUicliolclci' in ins sliarc of ihc 
 (iropcny, as asccnaincil by llie k-gislaUire ; and prevent 
 Ihe fanner from bcinij deprived of llic benefits llowini; 
 from sucli meliorations as lie may liavc made on the land 
 wliicli he occupies. 
 
 We are at a loss to discover any objections that can 
 be made to the principles of this adjustment, though we 
 are aware that, in applying tlic principle to practice, a 
 diversity of opinions may prevail, respecting tiie ratio 
 <jf payment to be substituted; but, with a full considera- 
 tion of the question befoie us, we suggest the follow- 
 ing outlines of an adjustment, that would promote the 
 public welfare, and secure the interest of every hidi- 
 vidual concerned in the collection or payment of tytlies. 
 We propose, that the whole land in England shall be ar- 
 ranged into three classes : 1. Old arable ; 2. Pasture ; 
 ;>. Waste The first class, under the present system, 
 pays almost the whole tythcsthat are collected; there- 
 fore any permanent regulation ought, in justice, to be 
 higher upon this, than the other two classes, even 
 holding the different values in view. The second class 
 is, in nine instances out of ten, kept from convertible 
 husbandry, to escape the burden of tythe ; and the last, 
 except in a few cases, does not yield produce from which 
 tythe can be exacted. Under these circumstances, it 
 would be unreasonable to demand a commutation upon 
 the same ratio, from these different classes, though it is 
 fair that each of them should bear a reasonable propor- 
 tion. 
 
 The Scottish law declares, that one-fifth of the free 
 rental should be held as equal to the tytlie of land. This 
 principle, though evidently a fallacious one, has the 
 merit of being clear and distinct, which is a necessai-y 
 quality in every public measure. The fifth of the rental 
 in all cases, like the tenth of the produce, must operate 
 veiy differently in different situations, but still not to the 
 same extent, when the rental only is affected, and stock 
 in trade and personal abilities are exempted. 
 
 We shall therefore lake the Scottish law as the basis 
 of the proposed adjustment, and recommend, that one- 
 sixth of the rental of land, presently in an arable state, 
 should be set apart, in lieu of tythe, in all time coming ; 
 and that, where fines or grassums are paid, the tythe- 
 lioider should have a claim for the same proportion of 
 all such fines or grassums levied by proprietors. This 
 share of rental should increase or diminish as rents in- 
 creased or diminished, which obviates every objection 
 hitherto offered against a commutation in money, allows 
 the tylhe-holder a due share of every emolument that 
 might arise from the increasing prosperity of the coun- 
 try, and prevents him from suffering a loss, in case mo- 
 ney should fall in value, as has hitherto happened. 
 
 Those, who are acquainted with the ancient Scottish 
 lythe-system, will at once perceive, that though we have 
 taken it as the basis of our plan, yet we have deviated 
 a little from it in the rate of commutation. The propor- 
 tion, in Scotland, is one-fifth of the rent ; but we have 
 stated one-sixth as an equitable payment. It is well 
 known, that, in Scottish valuations, deductions are con- 
 stantly made for improvements ; and that in fact tythe, 
 even at the time of valuation, seldom exceeds one-sixth 
 of the real rental. Besides, under the proposed adjust- 
 ment, the proprietor has a fair claim to an ease, or deduc- 
 tion, upon account of future improvements, from which 
 the tythe-holder would constantly reap profit, without 
 toeing subjected to any expense. 
 
 If we suppose, that the average rent of arable land in 
 
 England, subject to tytlie, is 25«. per acre, and that it 
 would be worth 30.y. when exonerated, tlien the sum 
 payable to the tythc-holder would, under this supposition, 
 amount to 5s. per acre, so long as the scale of rent re- 
 mained on its present footing. If rent increased, so 
 would the tythe duty increase ; the interest of all the 
 parties would go hand in hand, and v.hile the obstacle 
 to improvement would be removed, which is the chief 
 object intended, security would be gained, by all con- 
 cerned, for enjoyhig the full advantage of their sepa- 
 rate riglits. 
 
 The second class of land is the old pastures. The in- 
 troduction of convertible husbandry, the main source of 
 tythcs, is effectually prevented upon land of this de- 
 scription; and as, without convertible husbandry, few 
 tythes can be collected, it must appear reasonable, that 
 a difl'erent basis should be assumed when treating of the 
 rate to be paid in lieu of tythe, under such circumstances. 
 Perhaps one -tenth of the rent is too much to be levied up- 
 on such lands. We are convinced it ought not to be high- 
 er; and, when the general richness of the old pastures is 
 considered, it seems probable, that a tenth here will be 
 equal to a sixth of the rent of old arable land. This 
 rate, we propose, should continue in all time coming, 
 whether convertible husbandry is, or is not, introduced. 
 
 The last class is the waste lands. Here it is obvious, 
 that tythe from such lands depends entirely upon the 
 nature and extent of the improvements that are made ; 
 for, in their natural state, the tythable produce is very- 
 limited. As it is pcrliaps upon lands presently charac- 
 terized as wastes that the greatest artificial improve- 
 ments woidd be made, it is absolutely necessary, that the 
 rate of payment should nominally be much lower than 
 specified with regard to the other two classes ; though 
 we have no doubt, but that, in reality, the greatest in- 
 crease of tythe would arise in this class. We propose 
 therefore, that one-fifteenth of the rent should be con- 
 sidered as a full compensation for tythe, upon all lands 
 of this description. Perhaps many people may view 
 this as too high a compensation ; but when it is con- 
 sidered that rent, at the outsetting, when improvements 
 are making, must, of course be veiy low, and that it can- 
 not rise till a degree of perfect culture is established, we 
 entertain a hope, that the rate proposed will be viewed 
 as equitable and reasonable. 
 
 Thus we have briefly stated the outlines of a plan for 
 removing an important agricultural grievance ; and 
 there cannot be a doubt, but that tlie public interest, as 
 well as thatof individuals, would be materially advanced, 
 were such a plan carried into execution. The public 
 would be benefited by a general introduction of convert- 
 ible husbandry, and by the culture of that large portion 
 of the island, which, to the shame of our government, 
 is suffered to remain almost in a non-productive state. 
 The landed proprietor would receive the full value of his 
 property ; as a removal of tythes would instantly occa- 
 sion convertible husbandry to be generally disseminated, 
 and be the forerunner of a great rise of rent. The 
 tythe-holders, whether clergymen or lay impropriators, 
 would likewise participate in the general advantage. At 
 the outset, it is probable, that the amount of tythe"S 
 would exceed, at least it would be equal to, the tax in 
 kind, or the money presently levied in lieu of it, while 
 all the drudgery, all the ill will, which inevitably fall to 
 the lot of the collector, would be avoided. As to the 
 farmers, they would most likely gain more than the pro- 
 prietors or tythe-holder.s, by the establishment of such a
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 <'omniutation. They would be free of arljitraiy exactions 
 levied in direct proportion to the extent of tlieir merits 
 and abilities. Wiien improvements were made, they 
 would be secured from the interposition of a third per- 
 son ; and rent being hxcd, no demand for a share of pro- 
 fits could be made, during the currency of a lease, by 
 tuiy person whatever. 
 
 In order that a commutation of tythes, so devoutly 
 to be wished, might be carried into execution, all that 
 seems necessary, in the first instance, is an act of 
 the legislature to ascertain the basis upon which the 
 CQjnmutation is to be made. Under the supposition, that 
 a plan, such as this, is just and equitable, tlie act should 
 direct, that a commission for each couiity should be 
 granted, with power to name sub-commissions for each 
 parish, by whom the whole lands thereui situated should 
 be classed. The county commissioners should review 
 and amend the parochial reports where necessary ; and, 
 being made up, they should be registered in the county 
 records, as a rule of payment for the future. 
 
 It may perhaps be expedient to allow proprietors of 
 land the alternative of accepting a commutation or not ; 
 but having once taken the benetil of it, no change should 
 be allowed afterwards. Where a modus has been legally 
 settled, or is supported by prescription, the act ought 
 not to include such cases, as the object in view has been 
 already obtained. 
 
 In these outlines, we make no reference to a sale of 
 tythes, but leave proprietors on both sides, to make ar- 
 rangements, as may be done in other cases with any 
 branch of private property. Whether sales take place 
 or not, is a circumstance unconnected with the public 
 good ; for if tythes are constituted a rent charge upon 
 permanent principles, it does not matter to whom they 
 belong. 
 
 We now come to poor-rates, which are still a more 
 uncertain burden upon the tenantry than tythe, and which 
 alter and vary according to the prosperity of the coun- 
 try, and in some respects according to the manners and 
 disposition of the lower ranks ; more so than their actual 
 wants or necessities. It is not our object here to discuss 
 the expediency or utility of the present system, but 
 iTierely to consider it as affecting agriculture, and as 
 hostile to improvement. We are therefore convinced, 
 that every indefinite burden must be injurious to those 
 who enter upon the profession of agriculture, because, 
 when they agree to bear the public burdens which affect 
 ihe land under their occupation, they cannot know the 
 extent of that burden till it fall upon them ; therefore, 
 as it is more or less heavy, so will their condition be 
 good or bad according to the weight of the burden, or 
 the extent of the tax which falls to their share. View- 
 ing the matter in this light, we have long thought that if 
 all these public burdens were defrayed by the pro- 
 prietor, agriculture would be greatly benefited, while the 
 rent lolls of proprietors would be increased in a degree 
 much exceeding the public burdens devolved upon them. 
 We see this to be the case in North Britain, and why 
 the like effect should not happen in the sister country, we 
 are at a loss to discern. Besides, were these burdens 
 sustained by proprietors in the first instance, we are al- 
 most certain that greater economy would be exercised 
 than luider the existing system. Were the payers to 
 be the distriluilors, it is more than probable that the 
 abuses of the poor-rate laws would soon be corrected, 
 though there is small prospect of any remedy so long 
 as the present system continues. 
 
 The last obstruction lo Enp^lish improvement whicii 
 shall be mentioned, is the immense tracts held in a state 
 of commonty, whether arable or waste, by which the. 
 common stock of the nation is ainised and misapplied, 
 making a return not one half of what it is capable of af- 
 fording, thus lessening considerably the produce of the 
 country, and preventing that increase of population 
 which otherwise might be supported and kept in em- 
 ployment. We arc tiuite aware that strong measures 
 are necessary before the connnonable lands can be di- 
 vided and placed in a state of severalty ; but why nol 
 put strong measures into execution, since the national 
 welfare depends so much upon them. The countiy has 
 shown, in many recent instances, that strong measures 
 are not contrary to the national disposition ; and there- 
 fore, why delay similar ones, when an object of materia! 
 importance is at stake. In the ordinary way of dividing 
 commonable land, we venture to say, that the object will 
 not be gained in a couple of centuries, even though 
 division bills should be as numerous as they have been 
 for many years past. A general bill would greatly les- 
 sen the evil complained of, would save an immense 
 expense to those concerned, and separated from en- 
 closing, (which we view as an unnecessary appendage,) 
 would soon place the whole country in a cultivated state ; 
 at least, it would enable the owners of commonable land 
 to participate of the benefits arising from holding land 
 in severalty whenever they were disposed to partake of 
 such an advantage. 
 
 The legal polity of Scotland, as it affects the occu- 
 piers of land, is much more favourable to agriculture 
 than the Englisli system, though still it has defects 
 which might be remedied without injury to proprietors. 
 The tenant has not thtit power over his lease, which he 
 ought to enjoy, nor can he legally transfer it to another, 
 unless the proprietor be pleased to consent to the trans- 
 action. He cannot even assign his lease to any mem- 
 ber of his family, the eldest son excepted, who probably 
 is bred to some other trade, or may be unqualified for 
 the occupation of a farmer. The hardships, which af- 
 fect the Scottish tenantry, \\\\\ appear in a clear point of 
 view, from the following considerations, with which we 
 shall conclude this article. 
 
 In the ^rsc place, the situation of cultivators, though 
 undoubtedly much improved, remains more precarious 
 and dependent than that of merchants and manufacturers. 
 In various points of view, the former have less command 
 of their property than the latter; the property, invested 
 in rural improvement, not being convertible into money 
 with the same facility as may be exercised with that 
 devoted to trading purposes. Under these circum- 
 stances, persons possessed of property are deterred 
 from laying out any considerable part of it in the im- 
 provement of land ; because it cannot be called back 
 when wanted, or even destined for those purposes, to 
 which it may be the ardent wish of the owner to apply 
 it. Were leases rendered a marketable article, these 
 objections would be removed. Were they even to be 
 at the tenant's disposal, witeii he cmdd farm no more, the 
 evil would be partially remedied. The improvement of 
 land is now become an expensive task ; therefore, when 
 a tenant's stock is put into the ground, and not receiv- 
 ed back at his decease, one member of his family may 
 be enriched at the expense of the remainder. But a 
 case is supposable, which necessarily must produce con- 
 sequences infinitely worse ; nimely. when the tenant 
 dies, and leaves a young family behind him, none of 
 T t 2
 
 332 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 whom arc capable of following out his plans, or of exer- 
 cising nicabutes suilablc foi- accomplishing a recovery 
 of the cap.tal stock cxpinded on previous improvements. 
 In such a case, a family may be ruined, even though 
 their prospects are extensively afHuent. Were the le- 
 gal system of Scotland conu-ived in such a vtfay, as to 
 render a settlement of a tenant's affairs as easy a bu- 
 siness as that of a merchant or maiuifaclurer, the advan- 
 tages of the change would be numerous. Could a lease 
 be sold, or subset, at the tenant's death, and the stock 
 upon the farm be converted into money, the interest of 
 all concerned would be greatly promoted. According 
 to existing regulations, a partnership in agriculture is 
 almost an impracticable measure, at least it is an impru- 
 dent one ; but were things otherwise regulated, were 
 leases allowed to be sold, partnerships would frequently 
 take place, much to the benefit of those extensively em- 
 barked in agriculture. Agriculturists, as happens with 
 other people, have different talents ; some are better 
 calculated for managing arable farms, than for general 
 purposes; others may be qualified for attending markets, 
 or may be good judges of live stock. Blending these 
 different qualihcations in a partnership would therefore 
 be eminently useful, though it is evident, that no such 
 arrangement can successfully take place under the pre- 
 sent system. 
 
 In the second place, agriculture would be benefited 
 were leases, of longer continuance than 19 years, pro- 
 tected from the claims of singular successors. Such 
 singular successors would not thus be placed in a worse 
 situation than the direct heirs of the granter ; and why 
 they should be placed in a better one we are at a loss to 
 conjecture. A law, which declared every lease to be le- 
 gal and valid that was regularly executed, no matter 
 •what were its duration and terms, would be attended 
 with mcaiculable advantages. Should it be urged, that 
 such a law would prove injurious to heirs and expect- 
 ants, we answer, that the injury, in such instances, would 
 
 be less than when sales are made ; and as every per- 
 son, not restricted by entail, may sell the subject which 
 belongs to him, no solid reason can be adduced, why he 
 nuiy not make a partial disposal of the same for a limited 
 term. 
 
 In the i/iirtl place, were leases considered as proper- 
 ty, numberless evils would disappear, which at present 
 obstruct and inconnnode agriculture. We cannot con- 
 jecture the injury, which proprietors would sustain, 
 were this character bestowed on leases, though it is not 
 difficult to recognise the advantages, which would follow. 
 Every circumstance, which contributes to place the 
 holder of a lease in a more respectable condition, neces- 
 sarily serves to increase the value of landed property. 
 The system of connexion, betwixt landlord and tenant, 
 is constructed on more liberal terms in Scotland than in 
 England ; hence, a given spot of ground yields much 
 more rent in the former than in the latter country. But 
 were the impediments to be done away, which we have 
 suggested, the difference would become greater still, by 
 the rapid spring which would thus be given to agricul- 
 tural improvement. 
 
 Lastly, were every feudal custom abolished, and ten- 
 ants placed on the same footing with other members of 
 the community, the public good would be considerably 
 increased. Were the lease framed on plain and solid 
 pruiciples ; were its conditions to be the only law obli- 
 gatory on the parties ; were every reference to ancient 
 custom and usage to be given up and done away ; and 
 were all attempts to put constructive burdens on the ten- 
 ant prohibited by an express act of the legislature, — then 
 we might expect that agriculture would flourish with 
 rapidity ; that the occupiers of the ground would advance 
 in character and reputation ; that the country would in- 
 crease in durable riches ; and that the condition of all 
 ranks, from the lowest to the highest, would be meliora- 
 ted and rendered more comfortable than has hitherto 
 been the case, (b) 
 
 Note. — The preceding article contains such full, and 
 judicious remarks, on the theory and practice of agri- 
 culture, that It would be superfluous to take up that 
 branch of the subject ; or indeed to offer any thing in 
 the form of instruction in this valuable science. But it 
 unfortunately so happens, that both in Europe, and 
 America, very humiliating, and let me add, very unjust 
 ideas are enteitained of the state of agriculture in the 
 United States of America; and as the effect of these, 
 is to deter many useful men from migrating to a coun- 
 try where their labours would be better rewarded than 
 they are at home, and to diminish the satisfaction that 
 the American farmer finds in his situation ; it is a duty 
 to society to remove erroneous impressions, which tend 
 (o lessen the general mass of human happiness. 
 
 It may perhaps be received as an axiom, that where 
 men enjoy equal moral and physical advantages, their 
 progress in science will be equal ; and particularly in 
 those branches of it to which their own interests, and 
 ihat of the community of which they are members most 
 naturally lead. In islands, or sterile countries in the 
 vicinity of the sea, the inhabitants, according to the 
 state of civilization among them, will be expert fisher- 
 men, or distinguished merchants. In those that contain 
 large tracts of fertile land, the inhabitants, W'hen ad- 
 
 vanced beyond the shepherd state, will render their 
 lands sufficiently productive to supply their wants ; and 
 when civilization has increased those wants, they will 
 seek in agriculture, the means of supplying the conve- 
 niences, and luxuries, that are to be obtained through 
 the medium of commerce. 
 
 We may then, almost to a certainty, pronounce upon 
 the relative state of agriculture in any civilized society 
 that enjoys the advantages of a free commerce, by know- 
 ing their moral, and political situation, their habits, and 
 how far they indulge themselves in the conveniences, 
 and luxuries enjoyed by the nations with whom we com- 
 pare them ; more particularly, if agriculture, and not 
 manufactures, form the basis of their commerce. One 
 might then be surprised at the contempt with which 
 Europeans, who have never seen the country, or travel- 
 lers who have seen it with ignorant or jealous eyes, speak 
 of the agriculture of the United States, did we not 
 know the prejudices that it is the interest of European 
 governments to keep up, against a country which offers 
 an asylum from the oppression and the wants, that 
 weigh heavy on their subjects. To this we must add an 
 erroneous idea, that most strangers entertain on the 
 perfection of agriculture: they presume, that it consists 
 in obtaining the greatest quantity of produce from a
 
 AGRICULTUBE. 
 
 333 
 
 given qviaiuity of land ; and when they find that the ara- 
 ble yield ol' our fields is less than that of their native 
 country, they at once pronounce us miserable farmers ; 
 not considering, that agriculture is good, or bad, in 
 proportion to the return it makes for the capital employ- 
 ed, anti that the capital consists not of land only, but of 
 stock, land, and labour. In couniries in which a great 
 popu.ation causes land to be dear, and labour cheap, the 
 farmer expends much labour on little land, and renders 
 that extremely productive, and the reverse where land 
 is cheap, and labour dear. A Chinese would pass the 
 same censure on British agriciUture, that a Briton does 
 upon that of the United States ; and yet a Yorkshire far- 
 mer is in all probability a much better cultivator than the 
 Chinese : that is, he lives more comfortably, and reaps 
 a greater profit from his capital. Considered in this 
 view, we are much inclined to think, that the agriculture 
 of the United States is at least equal to that ol Europe; 
 and that the American agriculturist enjoys physical and 
 moral advantages, which no part of Europe possesses. 
 We ground our opinion upon this undeniable fact: Labour 
 commands more money, and money more of the neces- 
 saries of life in the United States, than in Europe ; of 
 course, the American labourer lives better, and rears a 
 family more easily here than elsewhere ; of this the 
 rapid increase of our population affords the proof. 
 And yet, the American farmer can sell the produce of 
 his land so cheap, as to supply the European market — 
 To what is this owing ? Must we not reply, to the moral 
 or physical advantages he possesses? It maybe said, 
 that as land is cheap, the capital in that article is less 
 here than in Europe ; and that this counterbalances the 
 advanced price of labour. Be it so: then, in the price 
 of land, he enjoys an advantage which is not enjoyed 
 elsewhere ; which is what is contended for ; and that his 
 advantages, in whatever they may consist, are so great, 
 that he can render the people he employs happier, while 
 he undersells the European farmer m his own market. 
 If he effects this by employing little labour on much 
 land, he shows as much judgment as the Chinese does 
 in employing much labour on little land, and is the abler 
 farmer of the two ; because the relative profit is greater, 
 and his own wants and those of his family are infinitely 
 better supplied. As our object is to correct errors by 
 laying down rules by which foreigners may form a more 
 accurate judgment of our agriculture than they can 
 possibly do from the fictitious travels that are daily put 
 in circulation (too often under the encouragement of in- 
 terested governments, or individuals) we shall give a 
 slight sketch of the manner in which the cultivators of 
 the land live and manage their farms ; then point out 
 their moral and political advantages or disadvantages, 
 and the physical benefits or evils of their soil and cli- 
 mate ; and conclude with some observations on their 
 agriculture as it respects them. 
 
 Individual inlerests, or those of the community. 
 
 To give a correct idea of the agriculture of the Uni- 
 ted States, would require a very considerable volume ; 
 since it embraces ail the productions of Eiu'ope, except 
 wine and oil, and some even of those which are not found 
 there, such as sugar and indigo. Its staple commodi- 
 ties may be numbered under the following heads : Grain 
 of every species produced in the temperate climates of 
 Europe ; cattle of every kind except the buffaloe ; sheep, 
 horses, asses, and mules ; tobacco, cotton, rice, indigo, 
 
 sugar, flax, hemp, hops; and every specie.^, of fruit and 
 leguniens reared in any part ol Eui'ope. To treat of 
 the culture of each of these, would lead us too far; and 
 jKrhaps they will be best considered, at least so far as 
 relates to the rich productions of the southern states, 
 under separate heads. Indeed the moral and political 
 elleets of slavery upon agriculture will furnish matter 
 for much reflection, and a separate essay. We shall 
 content ourselves with considering the agriculture of 
 those parts of the United States in which slavery is 
 wholly prohibited, or confined only to domestic slaves, 
 and even to those, in very small comparative numbers. 
 This may, generally speaking, be considered as the si- 
 tuation of all the eastern, middle, and northern states ; 
 or, in other words, of all the states that do not raise to- 
 bacco, rice, indigo, cotton, or sugar : the culture of which 
 is confined to Maryland and Virginia for tobacco ; and to 
 the two Carolinas and Georgia for rice, indigo, and 
 cotton, and some tobacco ; and to Louisiana for all these 
 productions with the addition of sugar. The farms, in 
 the stales of which we propose particularly to treat, 
 consist generally ol from one to two hundred acres, 
 seldom arising to more than three, and generally falling 
 short of two hundred acres. Every farm is enclosed 
 and divided either by stone walls or rail fences, very 
 few hedges being planted, wood or stone having hither- 
 to afl'ordcd a readier and cheaper fence; but as the lat- 
 ter is daily advancing in price, the farmer will ere long 
 be compelled to recur to hedges. The buildings upon 
 the farms are sometimes of stone, but generally of tim- 
 ber, boarded, and covered with shingles. Mud-walled 
 cottages and thatched roofs are unknown, except that 
 barns are sometimes thatched. The farm houses ge- 
 nerally consist of a common dining room, and kitchen, 
 and two or three bed rooms on the same floor. They 
 are universally furnished with a good cellar, which the 
 nature of the climate renders necessary. The farm 
 buildings consist always of a barn proportioned to the 
 size of the farm, with stables for horses and cows on 
 each side, and a threshing floor in the middle. Instead 
 of stacking the hay and grain, particularly the latter, 
 as is generally done in Europe, it is commonly housed 
 in what is here called a barrack: it consists of four, and 
 sometimes of five, upright pieces of timber, set on stone 
 pillars, and connected together by cross pieces at the 
 height of about six feet from the ground ; to this is 
 subjoined a conical thatched roof, that may be raised up 
 or let down, and retained in its position by pins passed 
 through holes in the posts ; poles laid across from one 
 string piece to the other, sustain the grain or hay ; and 
 the lower part of the barrack frequently serves as a 
 shelter to cattle, or a repository for farming carriages ; 
 in which latter case it is generally boarded up. A good 
 farmer in the northern states has frequently four or five 
 of these barracks, and sheds for his cattle. All the old 
 cultivated farms have an orchard of from one to three 
 hundred apple trees ; and some have thrice that number, 
 cider being the farmer's common beverage, as wine is 
 in France or beer in England. As the trees are planted 
 regularly, and at a proper distance, the orchards are 
 cultivated occasionally, but are more frequently laid 
 down to grass. The rest of the farm is commonly divi- 
 ded, in proportion of its size, into lots, of from fifteen to 
 twenty acres, and ploughed in succession every third 
 year, and sometimes oftener. The most usual course 
 of cropping is to break up in the spring for maize or 
 Indian corn ; for which there is sufficient time, as the
 
 534 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 g-rain need not be planted till June or late in May. When 
 the maize is plucked, wheat or rye is sometimes put in 
 upon one plouiifhing ; orthe (ground is once plouu;hcd in 
 the autumn, and laid up for the winter in rid'^es, if a 
 wet soil, and in the spring [iloughed down and sown with 
 oats or barley ; thougli much of the latter grain is not 
 cultivated. It has within the last ten years, since the 
 general introduction of gypsum as a manure, been the 
 practice of good farmers to sow with their summer 
 grain, or in the spring over their winter grain, about 
 eight pounds of clover, and half a peck of timothy 
 [herds or phleimi pratense] grass seed, and to scatter 
 about four bushels of gypsum per acre ; which never fails 
 to ensure a crop of from one ton to a ton and a half of 
 hay at the first cutting. A part of almost every farm 
 lays down in meadow ; which is kept entirely for hay, 
 and very seldom ploughed, being generally moist ground 
 through which a rivulet flows; for there are very few 
 farms, in the country spoken of, that have not one or 
 more streams passing through them. When these 
 meadows are first freed from their timber, they arc ge- 
 nerally so rough as to render it necessary to plough them 
 two or more seasons in succession, and to sow them with 
 oats. When they are sufficiently smooth by that means, 
 they are seeded with timothy seed, and seldom after- 
 wards broken up. On light grounds, and particularly on 
 the interval lands on the rivers, pease are frequently 
 cultivated ; and almost every farmer raises more or less 
 buckwheat, which, with many, supplies the place of a 
 fallow, the buckwheat being always followed by a crop 
 of rye ; and of late some have sown the rye in July with 
 their buckwheat, which keeps the rye down, so as to 
 prevent its being too forward when the buckwheat comes 
 off. This is a labour-saving culture ; and we have seen 
 veiy good crops of rye raised in this way, but still think 
 that it is better husbandry to plough up the ground after 
 the buckwheat comes off. 
 
 Most farmers plant from half an acre to four acres of 
 potatoes, which they cultivate as in England, in rows, 
 and sometimes in hills, placing dung in the furrow, be- 
 fore the potatoes are planted, and clean them with the 
 plough twice, and once with the hoc. They are given 
 to hogs and ewes in the spring. Beans arc never cul- 
 tivated except in gardens for the use of the table ; but 
 their place is amply supplied by maize or Indian corn. 
 This plant may justly be considered as the most valuable 
 in the whole circle of American husbandry. Beans re- 
 quire richer ground, and arc very improductive, unless 
 sown so early in the season as would render it extreme- 
 ly difficult to prepare the ground for them, at least in 
 this climate. Indian corn is cultivated in the following 
 manner : If designed to be planted on clover hay, or 
 heavy soil, the furrow is turned over as flat as possible, 
 and then harrowed in the line of the furrow. The 
 ground is then either marked by drawing an ox chain 
 or a pair of wheels across and along the furrow, or with 
 a light plough, the furrows crossing each other. At 
 the place of intersection the earth is moved by a hoe, 
 when four or five grains are planted and lightly covered. 
 Corn planted in this way is tended, and cleaned, by hoe- 
 ing round the hill, and passing through the intervals 
 with a triangular harrow, that has a handle by which to 
 direct it, and is not ploughed till the sod has rotted. 
 The roots of the grain penetrate the sod, which rots 
 and furnishes much paljulum to the corn: and in this 
 way, good crops are raised on heavy soils with little 
 labour. But vherc the soil is loose, and the sod 
 
 easily broken, it is usual to plough twice for corn ; 
 which there is sufficient time to do, even in the spring, 
 though most good farmers give one plouglung in au- 
 tumn. From the 20th of May, to the first of June, i* 
 the season for planting. The hills of com arc generall) 
 placed about five feet apait in the northern stales; in 
 the southern states, a large species of corn is cultivated 
 which requires more space and earlier. planting. One 
 peculiarity of this grain is, that there are varieties suited 
 to almost every climate in the United States. The more 
 northerly states cultivate a small hardy sort, which ripens 
 early ; while the southern corn is much larger and longer 
 in ripening, but less flinty and heavy, than the early 
 species. Before the introduction of gypsum as a ma- 
 nure, most of the dung of the bam yard was applied to 
 maize, and put in the hills ; of late it is generally reser- 
 ved for the wheat land or meadows. And as a substi- 
 tute for it, the corn is steeped for one night in water, 
 and gypsum is sifted over it. After the corn comes up 
 it is hoed, and a tea-spoonfuU of gypsum is put to each 
 hill ; it is cleaned with a one horse plough, which turns 
 the furrow from- the corn, going as near to it as possible ; 
 and then the interval is ploughed up. Near the sea, 
 (where gypsum has no effect) ashes are substituted. 
 When the corn is more advanced, it is ploughed a se- 
 cond time, reversing the furrows : the plough each time 
 is followed by a hoer, who extricates the corn that is 
 buried by the plough, and loosens the ground about the 
 hill with his hoe. Thus the field is left till the plant 
 sheds its farina, when the tops are cut oft' as near as may 
 be to where the ears are set, then are tied into bundles 
 and put up to dry; by this means, an acre of corn gener- 
 ally yields about half a ton of very fine provender, equal, 
 for the use of cows or sheep, to the best hay : in the 
 southern states, they not only cut the tops, but pluck the 
 blades. In addition to which, it is a common practice 
 at the first hoeing, to put a few pumpkin seeds into 
 every second hill of corn, which afford a very consider- 
 able weight of this rich vegetable, without any expense 
 or trotible ; the crop of maize being in no sort dimin- 
 ished by them : these are fed to hogs and cows in the 
 beginning of the winter ; it being difficult to preserve 
 them after the first of January. We estimate the value 
 of this vegetable as little short of half a ton of hay an 
 acre, if raised on good ground, and the season not 
 peculiarly unfavourable. The corn is gathered at any- 
 time during the autumn which suits the fanner's con- 
 venience, as it will not spoil if left out for a long period 
 after it is ripe ; but if it is proposed to sow the ground 
 with winter grain, as is often done, the corn may be cut 
 up with the stalk and stacked ; in which state, the grain 
 will dry and harden perfectly. Some plough between 
 the corn and sow wheat or rye while the corn stands. 
 In our own country this valuable branch of husbandly 
 is well understood. Let us stop a moment, while 
 we convince foreigners, that in this we possess a great 
 physical advantage over every part of Europe in which 
 it is not raised ; and even over those parts in which we 
 have seen it, from errors in the manner in which it is 
 cultivated, or some defect in the climate to bring it to 
 the perfection at which it arrives in the United States. 
 First, as to the value of the grain itself — There is none 
 that has been found better adapted for the food of man 
 and the domestic animals on which he depends for 
 support. In the eastern states, (by which I mean those 
 on the east of Connecticutt river) where little wheat is 
 raised, it is, mixed with rye, in the proportion of two
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 335 
 
 oi corn to one of rye, the common bread of the inhabi- 
 tants, of such at least us ilo not reside in towns ; and no 
 people in America, or perhups in the worhl, are heallliicr, 
 stronger, or more active than tliosc of Newhanipshire, 
 Massacluisetts, Connecticut and Rhode Island. Tlie 
 cattle, pork, and poultry, fattened with it, arc very su- 
 perior in flavor to that fatted on any other grain. In 
 cither of these particulars, beans will bear no compa- 
 rison with it. Its yield, independent of the forage it 
 affords, and every part of the stem and husk are appli- 
 ed to the feeding of cattle, is considerable ; the average 
 of the crop being about thirty-five bushels, and frequent- 
 ly more than the double of that ; its increase behig in 
 some sort independnet of the season, and governed only 
 by the attention and care of the cultivator, the severest 
 droughts will not injure it ; the plough will supply the 
 place of rain. We have seen two crops raised in the vi- 
 cinity of New York, the one yielding one hundred and 
 twenty-five, the other ninety-five, bushels of shelled corn 
 per acre. It will be no exaggeration to say, that two 
 bushels of corn, are at least equal in value, to three 
 bushels of beans as a food for horses and cattle ; for bread, 
 the latter cannot be substituted. The European wri- 
 ters on agriculture are constantly enforcing the neces- 
 sity of horse hoeing, as a means of eradicating weeds, 
 and improving the soil. But unfortunately, they pos- 
 sess no plant that will afford the expense of this cul- 
 ture upon an extensive scale : turnips are uncertain in 
 their yield, and of trifling value compared to the ex- 
 pense of cultivation ; beans are too near to each other, 
 and must be tended too early, to aflPord a proper sub- 
 ject for this culture ; and the hoeing is sometimes prac- 
 tised, and always necessary, yet, it is attended with too 
 much expense and trouble, to become general. Maize, 
 on the contrary, bchig planted at the distance of five 
 feet, the plant being large and strong, admits of the 
 niost complete ploughing in every direction, while the 
 hoe IS only used in the neighbourhood of the young plant, 
 and that, after the ground is ploughed ; so that not more 
 than one foot in ten is touched with the hoe, even when 
 the plant is well cultivated. Ten acres of corn are hoed 
 with less expense, than one of beans or turnips, and a 
 most complete fallow made for the ensuing crop. The 
 consequence is, that at least five times more land is 
 horse and hand hoed here, in proportion to that under 
 cultivation,, than in Europe. 
 
 But to return from this digression — Flax is only cul- 
 tivated for the use of the farmer's family, and is sufiered 
 to grow ripe that the seed may pay the expense of the 
 culture. It is for this reason, that little fine linen is 
 made. Hemp, though not generally cultivated, affords a 
 most pi'ofitable crop on those rich bottoms on which it is 
 sown ; and indeed, if we may jvidge by what we have seen 
 in France and Flanders, and even in Holland, is more 
 congenial to our climate, and grows much more luxuri- 
 antly than in that of Europe ; unless it be in the more 
 northern parts of it ; with which we are not acquainted. 
 Culmiferous crops are mown, and not cut by a sickle : a 
 sithe is affixed to what is here called a cradle, consist- 
 ing of five or more ribs of strong pointed elastic wood, 
 into which the sheaf falls as it is cut, and is laid in re- 
 gular rows for the binders. One advantage of this mode 
 of reaping is, that the straw being cut low, the whole of 
 it is brought to tlie barn-yard ; and another, that it re- 
 quires much less labour than reaping with the sithe. 
 The average quantity of wheat per acre, upon unma- 
 nured lands, throughou tthe country described, without 
 
 taking in the new settlements where the yield is nmch 
 greater, may be about thirteen bushels per acre. In the 
 southeni Atlantic states, it is much less. On heavy 
 clays, fallcjwing for wheat crops is the general practice ; 
 but more than two pluughings are seldom given in such 
 soils: Doubtless more ploughing over, and water fur- 
 rowing, would render them more productive ; but the 
 saving of labour being the object of the American far- 
 mer, it becomes a mere matter of calculation with him, 
 whether it is more profitable to raise, at a greater ex- 
 pense of labour and manure, twenty-six bushels on one 
 acre, or on two. That he calculates justly, appears 
 from his receiving more for his labour than the Euro- 
 pean farmer, and yet selling cheaper. Large crops may 
 be I'aised here, and are, when the farmer takes a pride 
 or pleasure in seeing them. We have frequently seen 
 forty bushels of wheat raised, and witnessed some crops 
 of barley of eighty bushels to the aci'e ; but whether 
 the profit would be adequate to the expense, if this 
 system was generally pursued, we much doubt. — 
 Since lands have risen in value, in the old cultivated 
 countries, many farmers have paid more attention to 
 husbanding their land, and hicreased their produce by 
 additional expenditures of labour. The introduction of 
 clover, which is now very rapidly spreading, by aftbrd- 
 ing more manure, and diminishing the necessity for 
 sunnner fallowing, has within the last ten years made 
 a very sensible improvement in the agriculture of the 
 country. The common grasses of our pasture, are white 
 clover, spear grass (poa pratensis,) blue grass (poa tri- 
 vialis,) cow grass or perennial red clover ; — of our mea- 
 dows, timothy, and a grass of which we know not the 
 botanical name, that has lately introduced itself, and is 
 rapidly spreading ; which is here called red-top : it 
 bears a very great burden, and makes good hay : it is 
 we believe a species of the holcus lanatus. Much red 
 clover is now raised, since it is found to succeed remark- 
 ably well when manured with gypsum. Some rye-grass 
 is sown ; but it does not appear to be much relished by 
 cattle, either green or in the hay : its principal virtue 
 consists in its vegetating early; and on this account it 
 merits more attention than it has met with. Indeed it 
 is only within the last twenty years that any grass seed 
 has been sown ; and it will be no exaggeration to say, that 
 more clover seed has been put in, within the last eight 
 years, than has ever been sown since the country was 
 inhal)ited. No estimate therefore .can be formed of our 
 agriculture now, from a knowledg'e of what it was twenty 
 years since. 
 
 The stock of a farm, consisting of one hundred and 
 thirty acres, may generally be estimated at eight or nine 
 horses, including breed mares and their colts, where 
 horses only are worked ; where both horses and oxen, 
 at half that number of horses, and four oxen — ten cows, 
 and five or six yearlings and two-year old cattle — twenty- 
 five sheep — and as many hogs as will afford an ample 
 supply for the family, and from one to tv.o thousand 
 weight surplus for sale. This stock must however vary 
 with the nature of the farm. Some are turned to daries; 
 and of course more cows and fewer working cattle are 
 kept. In the eastern states, comparatively, fewer horses 
 are kept, than in the middle and northern ones. Wheat 
 being but little cultivated among them, it having been 
 found subject to blight in the vicinity of the sea, and 
 their lands being extremely productive of grass, they 
 prefer oxen for the draft ; which are found preferable, 
 as when they obtain the proper age they can be fatted
 
 336 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 for murkcl : tiicy even contrive to plough the intervals of 
 their maize lanil w ilh them, hy using a yoke ol'a peculiar 
 lonn. Much of their lands arc turned to the fatting of 
 cattle, and to darics ; pork, beef, cheese, and butter, to- 
 gether with oats and maize, being their staple produc- 
 tions. 
 
 The farming utensils are, a wagon, an ox cart, 
 ploughs, harrows. The wagons are such as arc used 
 in Holland, but much wider and larger. The ploughs 
 are of various forms, according to the nature of the soil 
 and habit of the farmer. The descendants of the Dutch, 
 who generally possess the interval land, and those most 
 free from stones, use the wheel plough. Though the 
 foot plough, generally with one, but sometimes with two 
 handles, is in common use ; and ot late years, particularly 
 in stony land, the coulter is not added to the plough. 
 Upon the whole, wc see the same variety of ploughs in 
 the United States, that are found in England; though we 
 think that plougiiing is in general more carelessly per- 
 formed here, than it is done in Britain, or even in France 
 with a much clumsier plough. Horses are generally 
 drawn three abreast in the plough ; and the driver holds 
 the plough and the reuis. It is seldom that a driver, 
 other than the ploughman, is used, even with oxen, un- 
 less four oxen are put to the plough, as they generally 
 are for breaking up heavy sod ; and in this case an old 
 horse, upon which a boy r.des, is often put before the 
 oxen ; and thus the labour of a man is saved. The oxen 
 work with yokes, and never with harness. It is very 
 doubtful whether it would not be an improvement to 
 work them by the harness ; as from what we have seen 
 in several parts of Europe, we are induced to believe, 
 that they not only can draw greater weights in this way, 
 but that in warm or wet weather, they suffer less from 
 galling than they do under the yoke. The cattle of the 
 eastern states are in general large, and very much re- 
 semble those of the north of France. The cows of the 
 more southern states are smaller, and resemble the 
 Aldemey and Britanny cattle. It is not till within a few 
 years that much attention has been paid to the improve- 
 ment of the breed of cattle (if increasing their size can 
 be called an improvement). Of late years, many fine 
 bulls and cows have been imported, both from England 
 and Holland. This stock would increase more rapidly, 
 if it had not generally been thought, and, as we believe 
 with reason, that they were less hardy, and the cows 
 less fit for the dairy .than our native stock. 
 
 The horses seem to have originated in three distinct 
 races, though they are at present very much blended. 
 Those of the eastern states, commonly called Narragan- 
 sets, are a very peculiar race. Their prototype, if they 
 came from England, as they probably did, is apparently 
 lost. They have handsome foreheads, the head clean, 
 the neck long, the arms and legs thin and taper ; the 
 hind quarters are narrow, and the hocks a little crooked, 
 which is here called sickle hocked, which turns the 
 hind feet a little out ; their colour is generally, though 
 not always, a bright sorrel ; they are very spirited, and 
 carry both the head and tail high. But what is very re- 
 markable, is, that they amble with more speed than most 
 horses trot, in so much that it is difficult to put some of 
 them upon a gallop. Notwithstanding this facility of 
 ambling, where the ground requires it, as when the 
 roads arc rough and stony, they have a fine easy single 
 footed trot. These circumstances, together with their 
 being very sure-footed, render them the finest saddle 
 horses in the world: they neither fatigue themselves 
 
 nor their rider. It is greatly to be lamented, that this in- 
 valuable breed of horses is almost lost, by being mixed 
 with those imported from England, and from other parts 
 of the United States. Wliat has contributed to liiir; 
 change is, that their spirit and their form fit them less 
 for the drudgery of a larm than heavier moulded anU 
 slower horses. 
 
 It is probable that when members of parliament tra- 
 velled up to London on horseback, and ladies knew not 
 the luxuiy of carriages with springs, that ihese ambling 
 horses have been in great request in England, and 
 might probably have been those most in use when 
 the first colonies were planted iji America. This race, 
 may have been since lost there, as it probably will soon 
 be in the eastern slates, and from t!ie same cause. 
 
 The second breed of horses is large and heavy, but 
 active, and strong, and appears to us to l.ave origina- 
 ted Irom the Norman horse, being less heavy, and more 
 active than those of Flanders. The breed of these has 
 been preserved in more purity in Kingston or Esopus, 
 in the state of New York, than elsewhere. They are 
 therefore generally called here Esopus horses. They 
 arc certainly valuable for the plough and carriage, pos- 
 sessing less beauty, but more spirit and vigour for the 
 draught than the English race horses, without being so 
 unwieldy as the dray horses: They are generally about 
 fifteen and an half hands high; though many exceed 
 sixteen and an half. These horses are extensively dif- 
 fused through Pennsylvania, where they are preferred, 
 for their heavy teams, to any other breed. Within the 
 last thirty years, the great proporiion of the horses of 
 the country are a mixture of this breed with the Eng- 
 lish race horse, the Arabian horse, and the barb ; several 
 of all these sorts having been imported, but chiefly the 
 first; and as they are the common stud horses in every 
 part of the Union, the American horses are more and 
 more assimilating to them, not however as far as we 
 have observed to the advantage of the country, as it 
 respects either farm or road horses. In every state, many 
 of the high-blood race horses are raised for the turf, 
 but mostly in the southern states. They appear to re- 
 tain their vigour and beauty of form ; but those bred 
 there become more delicate and slender in their shape, 
 which may probably be owing to the pastures of those 
 states being less succulent than in England, and their 
 winter food being corn blades and grain, instead of hay. 
 They retain, however, all their native force and activity, 
 and seem to approximate more to the Arabian horse, 
 from which the English race horse originally descend- 
 ed. This race is, by admixture with our native breed, 
 rapidly extending itself through the Union, though they 
 are obviously less fitted for the saddle than the Narra- 
 ganset, and for the plough, farm, or carriage, than the 
 Esopus horse, and are at least one year, and probably 
 two, longer in coming to perfection ; whether they re- 
 tain their vigour to a later period, we have not ascer- 
 tained. 
 
 Sheep have not heretofore been kept in any great 
 numbers. They never made an object in American 
 husbandry. Every farmer kept a few, to run over his 
 stubble, and pick up the hay that the horses and cattle 
 wasted. There being no regular demand for wool, no 
 more sheep were kept than supplied the farmer's family 
 with what was necessary for their domestic manufacture 
 of stockings, mittens, petticoats, coverlids, and coarse 
 cloth for servants or children : all these were made in 
 the family. But wiUiin the last four years the stock of
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 33: 
 
 sliecp have become a leading object ; and it is 110 exag- 
 geration to say, that witiiin that time their number has 
 at least increased fourfold. This has principally origi- 
 nated in the following causes : first, The advance in the 
 price of English cloth, that used to atlbrd a great pro- 
 portion of the farmer's clothing ; second, The duties 
 both here and in England, that have added to the price; 
 third. The invention oi carding mills, by which a great 
 proportion of the expense and labour of carding is saved ; 
 and lastly, The introduction of Merino sheep, which 
 has stamped a new value upon their flocks, and render- 
 ed their domestic cloth so much better than foreign 
 cloth of the same price with that which they now make 
 in their families, that a great proportion of what they 
 formerly got Irom foreign looms, gives place to that 
 which is manufactured at home. Tlie sheep of the Uni- 
 ted States were pretty uniformly alike, and greatly re- 
 sembled the Southdown sheep of England, both in their 
 form and quality of fleece. The only exception to this 
 was to be found in particular neighbourhoods, into which 
 sometimes the long woolled sheep of England, sometimes 
 the BakewcU sheep, and sometimes the sheep from 
 Holland and the Texel,had been introduced. The crosses 
 from these distinguished many of our flocks from the 
 original stock, which has gained thereby somewhat in 
 point of size, form, and quantity of wool, but lost in its 
 quality. As the Merino sheep, and the crosses from it, 
 now begin to make a great feature in American agricul- 
 ture, it is proper to notice their introduction. In the 
 year 1802, a ram was sent over from France, by Mr 
 Dupont; and it is not improbable that others may have 
 been previously sent. But the farmers not estimating 
 their value, no attention was paid to breeding from thcin, 
 or keeping the stock pure. In the same year the wri- 
 ter of this article, then minister plenipotentiary in France, 
 sent two rams and two ewes, which were selected with 
 great care from the national flock in France. These 
 were the first couples ever introduced into the United 
 States ; not long after tiiis,col. Humphreys brought from 
 Spain near one hundred sheep. They did not, however, 
 appear to attract the attention of farmers till a few years 
 after, when the writer of this article published some 
 essays and calculations to show their importance and 
 value : these made such an impression upon the farmers 
 of the country in the northern states, that sheep, to which 
 they had paid no attention, rose to one hundred dollars 
 each, and from that kept advancing to one thousand, 
 which was the current price for a long time ; and we 
 have been credibly informed, that twenty-five hundred 
 dollars have been offered, and refused, for some of the 
 Clermont stock rams. Circumstances like this, could 
 not but awaken the attention of merchants. Vessels 
 were fitted out by them, and even by some companies 
 of farmers, on purpose to bring in Merino sheep ; qua- 
 lified persons were sent to select them ; and, in a short 
 time, from the best calculations we can make, upwards 
 of twelve thousand were introduced; the peculiar cir- 
 cumstances of Spain facilitating this operation. At 
 present the United States possess a great number se- 
 lected from the finest flocks in Spain. — The Paular — 
 the Cxuadaloupe — the Escurial — and Infantado, rank 
 highest in their estimation, for the beauty of their 
 fleeces; while the Ncgretti is preferred by some on ac- 
 count of the superiority of their size ; and the Ramboul- 
 let sheep are in great request, from uniting the advan- 
 tages of quality and quantity of fleece, to a fine form, 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 and better size, than any other of the imported Merinos 
 Experience has convinced the tarniers, that they ra- 
 ther improve than degenerate in our climate. The na- 
 tive flocks are rapidly changing into Merinos. It may 
 here be proper to note, that the high price given for 
 imported horses, cattle, and sheep, where they ready 
 or apparently possess advantages over native breeds, 
 demoiis4f-ate, that the American farmer feels none of 
 those m-flj'^'dices which obstruct improvements in other 
 countriSfe ; and that where tiic utility of an object is 
 apparent, he is not less willing nor aoie to make pecu- 
 niary advances to obtain il, than the most spirited far- 
 mers in Europe. Such facts as these, speak more to an 
 intelligent and enlightened statesman, than a thousand 
 volumes written by Smiths, Welles, Parkinsons, kc. 
 The rot is unknow n in this climate ; and indeed the sheep 
 here are more healthy than in any part of Europe. Il 
 is somewhat to be feared, that new complaints may be 
 introduced l)y our Spanish emigrants; many of wiiom 
 were infected with the rot, scab, and oiaveau or small- 
 pox, on their arrival. 
 
 Sheep are wintered generally upon hay, and maize 
 tops, which are very nutritious, containing much sac- 
 charine matter. The farmers do not generally permit 
 the lambs to drop till early in April. But those who 
 suffer them to come in the winter, or the month of 
 March, provide some green fodder for them, as pota- 
 toes or tmnips, and with these the rouen or second crop 
 of clover ; upon which, and a little bran, they yield abun- 
 dant nourishment to their Iambs. Since the introduction 
 of Merino sheep, farmers are much moi'c attentive to 
 housing and feeding them than they formerly were ; and 
 the consequence is an evident amelioration in their 
 stock. There is every reason to believe, that the Me- 
 rinos of the United States will in a few years be much 
 finer than those of Spain. Two circumstances will con- 
 tribute to this. First, better keeping; and 2dly, greater 
 care in the selection of breeders, — of rams particularly. 
 Those who have seen, with an attentive eye, the flocks 
 imported into this country, have been siirprised at the 
 little respect that appears to be paid to that object in 
 Spain. In the finest and highest bred flocks, the master 
 ram is often a very bad sheep, both in regard to fleece 
 and form ; while others that excelled in these were only- 
 left to struggle with such as were inferior. This pro- 
 bably arises from their castrating or killing the male 
 lambs so young as to make a selection impossible, hav- 
 ing only so many ram lambs as ai-e necessary for their 
 flocks. A contrary practice is followed by the Ameri- 
 can fanners. 
 
 JManures. — A very general defect in our husbandry 
 is the want of proper attention to jnanures : but as land 
 is rising in value, this evil is finding its remedy, and 
 particularly on those farms where a bad system has 
 prevailed for so many years, as to have in a great 
 measure exhausted the original fertility of the soil. 
 They are now in a progressive state of improvement, 
 from more attention being given to manures, and the 
 introduction of clover. 
 
 The barn-yard manure was for many years the only 
 resource of our farmers, and this was generally very 
 badly managed ; being seldom made into compost, or 
 even heaped up, till within a few days of its being ap- 
 plied to grain or spread on grass. 
 
 Lime has been much used in Pennsylvania, and we 
 believe with considerable effect; but it has not been ap- 
 U u
 
 338 
 
 AGlUCtLTUUE. 
 
 plied, as fai' as \vc have observed, in any other part of 
 the union. 
 
 (iypsum is now the great fructificr of our fields. 
 From two to four bushels of this is an ample drcssmtj 
 for an acre of clover. It is pulverized and scattered 
 over the fields in the spring. One bushel will ensure 
 a good crop of Indian corn ; and two or three never fail 
 to improve flax, potatoes, pease, and buckwhea|| Tlie 
 practice of wetting the seed oats, and sifting "^psum 
 over it, is now becoming very general, from its ■evident 
 utility. This is so unfailing a manure upon all dry 
 grounds, whatever be the nature of the soil, (if beyond 
 the influence of the sea air) that many tiiousand tons 
 are annually imported, and many mills erected in every 
 neighbourhood for breaking and grinding it. The com- 
 mon price per bushel is about half a dollar. Though 
 much gypsum is found in the state of New York, of 
 very good quality, yet as it lies at some distance from 
 the Mohawk river, the nearest navigable water, it is 
 found cheaper to procure it from Nova Scotia or France. 
 In the vicinity of the sea, soaper's ashes, or wood ashes 
 undrawn, is the most invigorating manure. These 
 ashes are carried 160 miles down Hudson's river, from 
 the potash works, to be sold to farmers on the sea 
 coast ; it being found so much more useful to them, 
 than to those at a distance from the sea, as to induce 
 the first to purchase vessel loads subject to this heavy 
 portage ; while farmers in the vicinity of the potash 
 works, hardly think it worth the expense of ridding out : — 
 this curious fact merits the attention of the chemist. 
 Many of our bog meadows afford shell marl, which has 
 of late years been much used. Clay marl is very com- 
 jnon, but not used on account of the expense of carry- 
 ing out. 
 
 As the greater part of our farms are of moderate 
 size, so the capital of the farmer is generally propor- 
 tioned to this circumstance. Most of our farmers cul- 
 tivate their farms with their own hands, aided by their 
 sons when of proper age to be serviceable. Women 
 labour in harvest, and in haying, and in planting corn, 
 before they are mothers, but very seldom afterwards; 
 the care of their children, and their domestic concerns, 
 occupy their time after this period. To this circum- 
 stance we are probably indebted for the number of 
 healthy and robust children with which every farm 
 house abounds ; and from this, too, may be inferred the 
 general ease and competence that prevail among our 
 husbandmen. Without these, in a country where hands 
 are scarce, and labour dear, that of women would not 
 otherwise be dispensed with. 
 
 As the whole work of the farm, except in haying or 
 harvest, is generally carried on by the farmer and his 
 sons, an American cultivator has the address to supply 
 all his wants. He can mend his plough, erect his 
 v.alls, thrash his corn, handle his ax, his hoe, his sithe, 
 his saw, break a colt, or drive a team, with equal ad- 
 dress ; being habituated from early life to rely upon him- 
 self, he acquires a skill in every branch of his profes- 
 sion, which is unknown in countries where labour is 
 more divided. The division of laboiu- is doubtless use- 
 ful in manufactories, but very inconvenient in husband- 
 ry, particularly where the people are thuily settled. 
 Much time would be lost in sending for a carpenter to 
 mend a plough, or do any other job, the want of which 
 stops the business of the farm. An American cultiva- 
 tor, who is always provided with the necessary tools, 
 ami knows how to handle them, can often despatch in 
 
 an hour, what othciwisc, probably the distance, absentt, 
 or occupations of the carpenter, would delay a week. 
 
 Altei- giving this rapid skctcli of American Agricul- 
 ture, it may be expected that we should enter into 
 more minute details; but this would lead us into great 
 length, without afi'oiding much that would either in- 
 struct or entertahi; because our agriculture differs little 
 from that of Europe, except in the circumstances men- 
 tioned. We prefer exerting our labour upon a largo 
 field, to employing the same labour on a small one. 
 Deviating, however, from this rule in the vicinity of 
 towns, and on navigable waters, where the price of land 
 enters more highly into the farming capital. The Ame- 
 rican farmer considers labour and land as a compound 
 stock, and endeavours, by the bringhig more of the one, 
 or of the other into use, according to circumstances, to 
 draw the best interest from both. That he will do 
 this judiciously, might be inferred a priori from h'n 
 being uncontrolled iji his operations ; being bound by 
 no strict leases with covenants adapted to the whim or 
 the interest of a landlord, to prefer one mode of farm- 
 ing to another; from his being at least as well educa- 
 ted as cultivators of the earth are in any other pait of 
 the world ; from his having all the motives to industry 
 that liberty, luxury, civilization, and free commerce 
 can give him ; from his being a member of a com- 
 munity, in which he is associated with the natives oi 
 every part of Europe. Some of his neighbours arc 
 from Ireland, others from Britain, France, Holland, Ger- 
 many, Switzerland, Sec. all bringing something of their 
 manners, and their modes of agricultiu'c with them; 
 all contributing to eradicate those prejudices, which 
 people who never converse with strangers imbibe and 
 obstinately retain, thereby obstructing eveiy improve- 
 ment in agriculture, till lime forces conviction upon 
 them. This is the common complaint of writers upon 
 agriculture in every country. In America the reverse 
 is the case. They have Ijeen taught to believe by 
 foreign nations, and these boastful strangers, (even 
 those that quit Europe for America,) that it is inferior 
 in all things ; that the land of tlieir ancestors possesses a 
 thousand advantages which the American is eager to 
 learn and copy. If they reject what may be recommend- 
 ed, it is not from prejudice, but from conviction of its in- 
 utility. In such a country, it is utterly impossible, 
 agriculture being the basis of their commerce, and the 
 great employment of the people, that it should not be 
 judiciously carried on, and more advantageously, than 
 in any other that does not possess superior moral and 
 physical advantages. Let us see whether any such 
 country exists; if not, we need then be no longer at a 
 loss to say why the American farmer is able to transport 
 his grain to England, subject to the expense of freight, 
 ensurance, and the mercantile profit, and yet undersell 
 the British cultivator. 
 
 To run a parallel between the United States and all 
 Europe, would lead to an investigation not only of the 
 agriculture, but of the habits, manners, governments, of 
 all the nations, climates, and soils, that it possesses — a 
 work of too much time, and too great length to find 
 place here ; but as Britain certainly enjoys more advan- 
 tages, civil and political, than any other nation in Europe, 
 and has carried agriculture, in all its branches, to a 
 higher degree of perfection, it will suffice to compare 
 the advantages and disadvantages that the cultivators 
 experience in Britain and the United States. 
 
 In both countries property is free from invasion.
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 both enjoy equal civil lights; but in the United States, 
 the cultivator is the propi-ietor of the soil, or il' a tenant, 
 generally holds his land by a perpetual lease, or a lease 
 for lives; which is the common tenure, by vv^hich the 
 tenants, of the few great landed estates that still subsist 
 in the United Slates, hold. . 
 
 In Britain, not one thousandth part of the cultivators 
 hold their land in fee, and very few by long leases; their 
 improvements, then, are made under great disadvan- 
 tages ; and as they must ultimately be lost to them, their 
 value must be deducted from their profits. In the Uni- 
 ted States, improvements descend to the children of the 
 cultivator. 
 
 In England a tythc is taken of the produce ; a tenth 
 part of every man's improvement is there made, not for 
 himself, but for the church; and the interest of religion 
 is but little promoted, by the invidious light in which 
 this places the clergy, and the perpetual disputes to 
 which it gives birth. In some few of these states, the 
 ministers of religion are supported by a general tax, but 
 in most of them, by voluntary donations. Thus none are 
 maintained, who do not perform the duties of their sta- 
 tion, and whose conduct is not such as to meet the ap- 
 probation of those they instruct. 
 
 The legislators in the United States are chosen by 
 the cultivators ; and nine-tenths of them are selected 
 from their order. It is impossible then, that any law 
 should pass subversive of their interests. 
 
 Their commerce of export is unrestrained, and not, 
 as in Britain, ijpade subservient to their manufactures. 
 
 The taxes, which weigh so heavily upon the agricul- 
 ture of Britain, are hardly felt here ; and as ours are laid 
 chiefly upon luxuries, the farmer, whose circumstances 
 require it, may, by living within himself, totally avoid 
 them, or reduce them to a very trifling object. 
 
 The price of labour, which is supposed to be a tax 
 upon our agriculture, is in fact a premium, where the 
 farmer cultivates his own farm ; because the profit of his 
 labour is added to that of his land. 
 
 In point of intelligence, it is presumed, that the Bri- 
 tish agriculturist enjoys no superiority over the Ame- 
 rican. The motives for education are greater in the 
 United States ; because, from the equality of rights, 
 every man knows that his son may aspire to the highest 
 honours. Education therefore is more attended to, both 
 by the members of the community, and the government, 
 iii the United States, than in Britain. The fonn too of 
 the town, county, and state, administrations, which are 
 ■wholly in the hands of farmers, occasions such a constant 
 intercourse between them, as must doubtless conduce to 
 their instruction ; we have already mentioned the causes 
 which render the prejudices that obstruct agriculture, 
 less prevalent in the United States, than in any other 
 part of the world. 
 
 What moral or political advantages then do the far- 
 mers of.Britain enjoy which are not at least equalled by 
 those of America? If none, why should we suppose our 
 agriculture worse conducted than the agriculture of that 
 country with a reference to the interest of the farmer; 
 which he certainly is left more at liberty to consult here, 
 than in any other part of the world ? 
 
 Let us now see, whether Britain enjoys advantages 
 in its soil or climate, which are unknown to the United 
 States ; and if it does, in what do they consist ? The land 
 unfit for cultivation in proportion to the quantity is much 
 greater in the island of Great Britain than in the United 
 
 States, and amount,; to little less than one-fifth of the 
 whole quantity in liie kingdom. Wc can hardly be said 
 to have any barren land. The sandy tracts upon the sea 
 coasts produce useful pine timber, and would not be 
 less productive, if cultivated wiib equal attention, than 
 the light sand of Norlolk. The mountains of Briuin 
 are barren ; in America they arc covered with useful 
 timber, and when cleared are very generally productive 
 of fine pasture. Bogs, heath downs, and chalky lands, 
 which are found in such abundance in Britain, are hardly 
 known in the United Stales. In England, large tracts 
 are loose and spongy, the water lying below the surface; 
 these fields cannot be cultivated Ijut by draining at very 
 great expense; hence blind draining makes a great arti- 
 cle in British agricultural improvement, and in British 
 expense; very little land of this description has fallen 
 under our observation within the United States. 
 
 The gre'atest advantage that South Britain possesses 
 over us, is the mildness of its winter, which enables the 
 farmer to prepare his grounds earlier for a spring crop. 
 Thus beans can be cultivated to advantage in England, 
 and not in the United States; because they should be 
 sown in March to ensure a crop. The same circum- 
 stance too enables the British farmer to feed his turnips 
 on the ground — an advantage however which North Bri- 
 tain does not possess: there, turnips require to be pro- 
 tected from the frost, as in America. To this cause 
 among others it is probably owing, that few turnips are 
 raised here for sheep or cattle, but principally because 
 they are a very expensive crop in proportion to their 
 value, and comparatively more so, in a country in which 
 hay is so much more easily made and cured than in 
 England. It is supposed that the winter is much shorter 
 in England than in the United States. This is an error : 
 there is not one fortnight difference, between the time 
 of foddering their cattle, even in South Britain, and in 
 New York or New Jersey. The autumn, as well as the 
 spring, is cold and wet, and accompanied not only with 
 more rain, but with much higher winds, than in Ame- 
 rica. It is true, that having little snow, the sheep and 
 young cattle are enabled to glean something on their 
 pastures, and are not housed or folded as in the United 
 States. This however appears to us rather a disadvan- 
 tage than otherwise, if we may speak from our own ex- 
 perience. When the winter is close, and the ground 
 covered with snow, the appetite of the cattle is keen: 
 they are content with the coarsest food, and thrive upon 
 it. When, on the contrary, the winter is open, and the 
 cattle suffered to run out, they are unable to fill them- 
 selves on the fields, and yet lose their relish for straw 
 or coarse hay, in tlie barn-yard ; and we have invariably- 
 found, that both cattle and sheep are in better condition, 
 during a severe, than during a mild winter, to say no- 
 thing of the loss of manure, and the injury to the land, 
 when they are suffered to run out. Whatever may be 
 the state of the weather, good farmers among us keep 
 up their cattle during the whole winter, and till there is 
 a bite of grass in the spring. And it will be found, that, 
 except with respect to sheep, the same practice is fol- 
 lowed in Britain. It is also supposed, that as the climate 
 of Britain is more moist than that of the United States, 
 it must be much more productive of grass. This is we 
 believe an error. It is certain that every thing grows 
 more rapidly in the spring, in proportion as it is checked 
 by cold in the winter. Immediately after the snow goes 
 off in northern climates, the grass vegetates, and sum- 
 Uu 2
 
 340 
 
 AGRICULTURK. 
 
 mer succeeds lo winter, without tlic intervention of 
 spring. In the United States, the harvest is near a 
 month earlier than in liritaiii,and the straw much longer. 
 It is tlien certain, that straw must grow more rapidly in 
 one, tlian in the other, and tor tlie same reason grass ; 
 which is indeed the fact: our hay as well as our grain is 
 gut earlier, and of course must grow faster. 
 
 Not knowing any otlier advantage which Britain pos- 
 sesses, let us examine those which the United States 
 enjoy. 
 
 We have already mentioned the culture of maize, as 
 a very leading feature in American agriculture, and one 
 that gives ii an advantage over any country in which it 
 is not cultivated. To lUis we may add, the facility with 
 which iiay is made in the United States, and its supe- 
 rior quality. It is cut at a season ot the year which is 
 generally tree trom rain, and is richer and heavier from 
 owing its growth more to heat than moistul-e. Every 
 farmer knows the difference between hay mown on up- 
 land, and on watered meadows. The facility with which 
 grass and a variety of grains are raised, since the intro- 
 duction ot gypsum (.which has been iound to have little 
 effect in England) has of late years given great advan- 
 tages to the Anitrieau farmer over those of almost any 
 other country. 
 
 We have mentioned the benefit that may be derived 
 from pumpkins ; and when it becomes an object to obtain 
 tlie greatest possible produce from our fields, and to 
 save hay, it cannot be doubted, that they will be much 
 more extensively cultivated than they now are. 
 
 It has been supposed, that the nalive soil of Britain 
 was superior to that of the United States. For our part, 
 we can only say, that from an attentive examination of 
 the soil, not only in Britain, but in France, Flanders, 
 Germany, and Italy, we have found no cause to think 
 that of the United States inferior to tkeirs. If Flanders, 
 and more particularly Lombarciy, which is certainly the 
 finest country in Europe, present us with large tracts 
 of fertile land, we may certainly compare with the first, 
 the whole of the country which lies between the Hud- 
 son and Connecticut rivers, and the north-west parts of 
 the states of New York and Pennsylvania; and with 
 Lor.ibardy, tracts of much greater extent upon the Ohio, 
 and the rivers that fall into it ; to say nothing of the se- 
 f.ond Egypt, that is to be found upon the waters of the 
 Mississippi. 
 
 If the earth owes its fertility to the decay of vegeta- 
 bles, the United States should naturally be much more 
 fertile than Britain; since this cause has been operating 
 in America some thousand years longer than in Eu- 
 rope. And this reasoning seems to be justified by the 
 fact. We have mentioned the more rapid growth of 
 grain and grass : this is ec]U;illy true with respect to 
 fruit and forest trees. In the United States every farmer 
 enjoys a luxury which wealth can hardly procure in 
 England. In five years from planting the stone, he may 
 eat the fruit of his peach-trees. In England a man may 
 plant out an orchard of apple or pear-trees for posterity, 
 but seldom hopes to gather the fruit himself. In the 
 United States, in six or seven years from setting out an 
 orchard, it will furnish a plentiful supply of fruit for his 
 table, and in less than ten years will store his cellar 
 with its rich and wholesome liquors. There are no 
 European fruits which do not come to perfection in 
 America, and no farmers, whose board may not be am- 
 ply supplied with them, as well as with melons and a 
 
 variet" of Icgumens which the want of a genial sua- 
 keeps from ripening in Great Britain, except at great 
 expense. 
 
 We return, then, lo the position we set out with. That 
 the people ot the United Stales, neither wanting edu- 
 cation nor intelligence, and enjoying all the moral, poli- 
 tical and physical advantages, that are fouud in the most 
 favoured parts of Europe, and having the same stimu- 
 lants to their industry, must necessarily conduct their 
 agriculture upon principles adapted to tlieir situation; 
 and that the censures, passed upon it, citlur proceed 
 from prejudice, or from not entering into the circum- 
 stances that govern their conduct ; and that their agri- 
 culture approximates to that > f Europe, as their lands 
 ri'-e more iu value; and that whenever tlie farming ca- 
 pital consists rather in land than in labour, more of the 
 last will be expended upon Itie fiist. All farming is, as 
 we have said, grounded upon a calculation of profit, and 
 less on the capital employed. When land was so plenty 
 as to be had tor taking up, the only question whli the. 
 farmer was, whether it was better to clear a new field 
 when the old one was exhausted, or to preserve its fcr- 
 tilily by carrying out the manure thai liad been for 
 years accumulating at his barn-door. 
 
 We would not be understood lo maintain, that this 
 was not bad husbandry in the United Stales; the contrary- 
 is known to be the fact. All we insist on is, that the 
 system generally pursued is that best adapted to the 
 interest of the individual. It remains to be considered, 
 how far it may be more advantageously directed for the 
 public good, without injury lo the cultivator. In ge- 
 neral, the agriculture, that contributes most to the hap- 
 piness of the farmer, is most useful to the community; not 
 only because of the interest that it has in his welfare 
 but because of its iirtiuence upon the well being of tiie 
 nation. The cultivator, who is employed in raising 
 food and raiment, provides for the great physical wants 
 of man, and is himself happier than one whose occupa- 
 tion it is to supply luxuries. Every man, who has seen 
 tlie wine countries of Europe, must have observed the 
 poverty of the vine-dresser, and the greater case and 
 comfort enjoyed by those who cultivate gi-ain. The 
 reason is, the last labours, first to provide a competence 
 for his family, and next to supply tlieir artificial wants, 
 by his surplus productions. If a drought prevails, and 
 his crops fall short, it seldom happens that he has not 
 at least enough to support himself, and he only sacil- 
 fices his luxuries. The vine-dresser depends upon the 
 sale of his wine for the necessaries of life. If his crop 
 fails, which it often does, he suffers much. If it is too 
 abundant, he is agaui injured; because, as the demand 
 is Imiited, he may not be so fortunate as to be able to 
 dispose of any part, or only of a small proportion of his 
 wine, and that at a very reduced price. And what is 
 etill more unfortunate, he not only suffers when his own 
 crop fails, but v/hen that of ike cultivator of bi:ead and 
 •meat does not obtain his usual increase. First, because 
 in that case the farmer consumes little or no wine; and 
 next because the price of those necessaries is enhanced. 
 If the sale of his produce depends upon a foreign mar- 
 ket, his situation is rendered still more precarious, 
 from the various causes that may diminish or destroy 
 the ('emand. It can never, therefore, be the interest of 
 a nation to encourage the cultivation of the vine to a 
 much greater extent, than may serve to supply the re- 
 gular deniaud at home ; because it can only <lo it at tlje
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 341 
 
 expense of the happiness of one class of its own people, 
 and by rendering them dependent upon the fasluon or 
 caprice of foreign nations. What we have ol)served with 
 respect to wine, applies still more forcibly to tobacco. 
 The consumption ol this at home is very small; the sale 
 depends on a foreign demand. As it is the most useless 
 of all luxuries, it is only encouraged in Europe as a 
 means of levying a tax. The cultivator receives much 
 less for the production than the governments that ad- 
 mit it do in duties. As every nation can dispense with 
 it, the cultivator is always dependent upon foreign na- 
 tions, upon the fiscal arrangements of their govern- 
 ments, and the whim and fashion of the consumers. At 
 present, none but the lower class of people, except in 
 Holland, consume tobacco in any other form than snufl'; 
 and this is also going out of fashion ; and as the poor 
 sooner or later copy the modes ol the rich, the demand 
 for it must necessarily diminish, and with it the profit 
 of the cultivator; which indeed has already so far sunk, 
 that much of the tobacco land is now turned to more 
 useful objects, the cultivation of grain. And this is the 
 less to be lamented, as tobacco requires fertile land, 
 which it exhausts without giving any tiling by which its 
 fertility may be restored. As the agriculture that is 
 employed in raising luxuries renders a country depend- 
 ent upon foreign nations, that are the buyers, so that 
 which supplies them with necessaries creates a depend- 
 ence upon the sellers ; and it is this circumstance that 
 gives the United States the weight they possess in Eu- 
 rope. 
 
 The invention of machinery for the spinning of cot- 
 ton has excited a great demand for that article, and as 
 this too may be counted among the necessaries of life, 
 has had the same effect that is produced by the trade in 
 grain. It has also been attended with extraordinary 
 profit to the cultivator. This last, however, must dimi- 
 nish, while its utility as a national staple increases. 
 Where the land and climate, suited to any agricultural 
 production, is in some sort unlimited, the profit in rais- 
 ing such production must be regulated by the price of 
 labour, or rather by the capital employed. Thus, in 
 Virginia, it is not more profitable now to raise tobacco 
 than Indian corn, because there are more lands fit for 
 tobacco than are necessary to supply the demand. The 
 same thing must happen with regard to the culture of 
 cotton, if we except those species of it which can only 
 be raised in small tracts in the vicinity of the sea. The 
 price of cotton lands is not greater than those which 
 arc proper for wheat. If, then, a farmer can raise only 
 so much wheat as pays him one hundred dollars for 
 every hand he employs, and the cotton planter receives 
 five hundred dollars for every labourer occupied in the 
 culture of cotton, the price of that article must fall to 
 four-fifths of what is now given. This fall will, however, 
 be gradual ; because the consumption of cotton will in- 
 crease as it becomes cheaper : tiiat circumstance will 
 render it more a necessary of life, and enable it to sup- 
 ply the place of flax, and in some sort of wool; besides 
 that, it will in that case wholly banish the East India 
 cottons, and take their place in the market. 
 
 This article of agriculture, then, merits the greatest 
 attention, not onlv as it affords a supply to our own 
 'A'ants, and is the pabulum of manufactoriesj but as it 
 
 will render the nations to whom it becomes a necessary 
 of life dependent upon our conmierce. As the situation 
 and policy of the Unileil Slates naturally lead them to 
 seek peace, and shun tlie broils that vex tlie old world, it 
 is desirable that they should be as independent for other 
 necessaries of lile as they are for food. Clothing has 
 hitherto been in a great measure obtahied from abroad. 
 The consequence has been, that they have not only been 
 drained of their specie, but subjected to the inconve- 
 niences that result from the taxes and restrictions they 
 impose upon their commerce, and the interruptions it 
 sufiers during a war. Every man that wears a British 
 coat, pays the tythes, the poor-taxes, the rents, the taxes 
 of England, with export duties and profits to foreign 
 merchants ; all of which is so much actual loss to the 
 country. But this is trifiing compared to the dependence 
 it creates upon them, and llie interest it forces the inha- 
 bitants of the United States to take in their peace or 
 wars. An idea has prevailed that this country is not 
 yet ripe enough for manufactures ; and this idea has in 
 some measure paralyzed their exertions to establish 
 them; yet the fact is that the United States ship very 
 few raw materials, except cotton. All its iron, wool, 
 leather, sheep skins, flax and hemp, arc manufactured 
 at home, and considerable quantities of leather, hemp, 
 and iron imported. Is there then not strong reason to 
 believe, that if the agriculture of the country was turn- 
 ed to the production of articles which are manufactured 
 at home, that it would render the United States as inde- 
 pendent for clothing as they now are for food r The con- 
 tinuance of wars in Europe, or such protecting duties* 
 and prohibitions as will assure the farmer that peace will 
 not ruin the manufactures that are to consume his pro- 
 duce, and in favour of which he changes his system of 
 husbandry, cannot fail to bring about this desirable state 
 of things. The facility, with which the people of the 
 United States embrace any object useful to their coun- 
 try and themselves, must astonish those who observe 
 the extreme difficulty with which old habits are relin- 
 quished in other portions of the globe. The circimi- 
 stances we have mentioned relative to the introduction 
 and prices of Merino sheep, and the sudden extension of 
 our flocks within the last four years, must convince every 
 reflecting man, that every article of woollen clothing 
 must soon be made at home. Already we find the in- 
 crease of manufactures of that kind keeping pace with 
 the increase of wool, and the reduction of the price of 
 cotton, and the war charges upon imported goods, opera- 
 ting upon the establishment of many manufactures of that 
 article. The fertility of lands in the western states, and 
 the expense of bringing grain to market, naturally lead 
 them to the culture of flax and hemp, whose value will 
 better bear the charge of transportation. This cause is 
 already operating. A considerable tiuantily of hemp is 
 raised and worked into cordage on the Oiiio. To the 
 remoter parts of the union we may early look (if fos- 
 tered by the attention of government) for an ample sup- 
 ply of canvas and cordage and coarse linens. While 
 we keep up our connexion with Europe by allowing 
 them the advantage of a commerce in luxuries, in ex- 
 change for our superfluous provisions, let us depend 
 only on our own agriculture and manufactures for ne- 
 cessaries. LiVI.VGSlOV.
 
 .J 4 2 
 
 AGRICULTURE. 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 AgiicuUun- 'iC Ri-eater iinporlfinfr to a 
 criHiiiry tltuti ivnilt' iiiitl urn- 
 liuliiciurfs, pafj*^' 205. 
 Iii'ttory of, 20('. 
 vx'll iiiidet'stuutl by ()u- Rumaiis, 
 
 stHlfof, ill England, iliirin;^ the 
 
 Siixoii (^ovorniiK'nt. il>. 
 imj)ntvfci l)y (he writings of 
 ■ .luilge Fit/Jiei-hei-t. 207 
 impi-uvetl !»y the wiiliiigs ol" 
 
 ViiltfV Klylhe, atul oihei-s, 
 
 (lining xhv Hi-oteclontti-. ib. 
 bfiiL-fiu-i! by iIm- i-slabliOimeiit 
 
 of a iintiona! Hoanl, 200. 
 Statf of, in SLOllaml.iluiing the 
 
 AngloHavon (iyirtsty, 210. 
 Stale- ol" in Scotland, at tlif i-nd 
 
 nf die lliirlet-iith ct^iiluiy, 
 
 212. 
 bi'iif tiled by tlie intriKluciion of 
 
 luri'igiKVs, il). 
 bt'nt--fii<d by the founding of 
 
 I'L-ligious hoiisfs. ib. 
 iiiilMided b\ the Succc-ssion War, 
 
 213. 
 dtt'line of, in the fifteenih and 
 
 sixteenth cenfurits, ib. 
 revival of, iifier the lUTorma* 
 
 tion, ib. 
 bciieliifd by the valuation of 
 
 lyllies. ib. 
 bflitiUed by sev<T;il laws passed 
 
 it! lite seventeenth centurv, 
 
 215. 
 benefited by the jm-isdiciion act 
 
 in 17-18, ib. 
 giT-aily impfove<l since tlie con- 
 clusion of the Amencan war, 
 
 ib. 
 llieoiyof, 216. 
 nnliquily of, 206. 
 iatruduced into Dritain by the 
 
 Konmns, ib. 
 state of, in England, under ilic 
 
 commonwealih. 207. 
 fundunieiital principles of. 216. 
 keeping land in old pasture de- 
 
 ti'inienial tOj 222. 
 accession of James VI. to the 
 
 throne of England hostile to, 
 
 in Scotland, 235. 
 exertions of Mr Hope of Ran- 
 
 keillor in favour ot, 214. 
 improvements in, by Mr Cock- 
 
 burn of Oi'Utiston.ib. 
 improvements in, by Mr Tull, 
 
 208. 
 Alga ^larinn, on the application and ef- 
 fects of, as a niannre, 270. 
 of greater benefit to light thao 
 
 to clay soils, 271. 
 Mildew preventwl by the use of 
 
 it, ib. 
 Alternate husbandry, tlie siipei-ior ad- 
 
 vaiit:iges of, tlenionslrated, 
 
 310. 
 Arable land, on the management of, 
 
 272. 
 
 rotation of crops. 273. 
 
 ctiliivaiiun ofculmiferous crops, 
 274. 
 
 cultivation of leguminous crops, 
 233. 
 
 cnUivacion of crops used in ma- 
 nufactures, 398 
 Ashes, of their beneficial effect as a ma- 
 nure, 271. 
 
 Exlracis from Uie agricultunil 
 meinoi-andums, of RoWvt 
 Ainstie, respecting them, ib. 
 
 Bailey, John, Esq. description of drilling 
 machines invented by him, 
 24S. 
 description of a tlu-ashing ma. 
 chine elected by him, 253. 
 Bakewell, his impioveUK-nt in long horn- 
 ed cattle, 322. 
 his improvement in die breed of 
 
 sheep. 31-1. 
 Eailey, delnil f^f processes in the culture 
 of. ?81- 
 
 1. Piepni-ation. 
 
 2. Qiiiiiility ol' seed. 
 
 3. H:irv.-^t nianagenif-nt. 
 Huvley, T. R. his diieciion* for draining, 
 
 SIS. 
 
 Beans, mode of culti\-ating, 233. 
 
 1. Prenaration. 
 
 2. Mode of sowing. 
 
 3. Quantity of seed. 
 
 4. Hoeing i)roeess. 
 
 5. Harvest .nanagement. 
 
 6. I'roduce. 
 
 drilling and horse-hoeing them 
 
 reconiinended, ill. 
 a good preparatory crop to 
 wheal, 285. 
 
 Bell, Benjamin. Esq. experinmits made 
 by, to ascertain wheiher liyht 
 and imperfect secil would pro- 
 duce a crop e(pial to seed 
 uh'ch had been perfectly ri- 
 pened, 280. 
 
 Blight, 277. 
 
 IJhie marl, 270. 
 
 BIj tlu '» « riiings account of, 208. 
 uldily of, ib. 
 
 JJrt-eding tuares. management of, 311. 
 
 Brown, Mr, of Markle, his method of 
 soiling cattle, 30.3. 
 
 Burning and paring not injurious to the 
 soil, 271. 
 
 Burning peai-earih. method of, ib. 
 
 Uurning moss, method of, 272, 
 
 Cabbages, their culture considered as not 
 beneficial to the farmer, 297. 
 
 Carrots, their culture not beneficial to 
 the farmer, ib. 
 
 Cattle, the dirt'eivnt varieties or breeds 
 of, described, 312. 
 
 1. Short horned, ib. 
 
 2. Long horned, or Lancashire, 
 ib. 
 
 3. PoIle<l, or Galloway, 313. 
 
 4. Kyloe, or Highland, ib. 
 Cheviot sheep, 315, 
 
 Clay marl, 270. 
 
 soil, sowing upon the winter 
 furrow recoihmended, 27-1. 
 Clover, when introduced into England, 
 302. 
 tlie most profit-ible way of using 
 
 it. ib. 
 soiling particularly recommend- 
 ed. 303. 
 experiments to ascertain the ad- 
 
 vant«ges of soiling, 304. 
 pasturage necessary in upland 
 diitricts, 305 
 Cockburn, Mr, his improvements in agri- 
 culture, 215. 
 Commonly lands an ohstruction to agri- 
 cultural imjirovement, 331. 
 Compos^middcns, on the advantages of, 
 264. 
 ingredients used in making, ib. 
 Lord Meadovvbank's method, ib. 
 Com, description of a machine invented 
 for reajiing, by Mr Gladstones, 
 Castle Douglas, 2-19. 
 method of treading it out in 
 America, 255. 
 Covenants, resirrictivc, in leases, bad ef- 
 fects of, 230. 
 Crops, the most suitable rotations of, elu- 
 cidated, 273. 
 Culley on breeds of horses, 310. 
 Culoiiferous crops, on the culture and 
 management of, 274. 
 
 Dickson's, Dr, opinion concerning soils, 
 
 218. 
 Disease, a peculiar one injured the crop 
 
 of J 808. 273. 
 Diseases of wheat, 277. 
 Drainage, bene"fitsof, described, 318. 
 mode of executing, ib. 
 pit. highly advantageous, ib. 
 Prilling machines, description of, 247. 
 DrilHrig beans. 2.S3. 
 Drill, for sowing turnips, 248. 
 Drills, description of, commonly used, 
 247. 
 description of, invented by Mr 
 Bailey, 248. 
 Dung, proi)er quantity of it to be used, 
 260. 
 spreading of it, 2r"il. 
 9pplicati<in of it to turnips, ib, 
 application of it t^ potatoes, ib. 
 application of it to clay soils, 202. 
 on the raanagemem and appli- 
 cation of, 257. 
 
 Dung, quantity thereof greatly incvea* 
 Ged by soiling, 263. 
 
 E 
 
 Enclosures, metliod of executing, 326. 
 stone walls recommended, 327. 
 ntnde of planting and Iraiuing 
 Iml^fs, ib. 
 Exjierituents with lime detailed, 267. 
 
 pi-actical inferencei therefrom, 
 269. 
 
 Fallow, summer, theliest mode of, clean- 
 ing land 232. 
 
 perfect husbandry not att.^innble 
 on strong soils without ii, ib. 
 
 should l>e cleaned before they 
 are dunged, 262. 
 
 quantity of dung for, ib. 
 Fanners, account of the introduction of, 
 into Britain, 256. 
 
 introduced under the patronage 
 of Mr Fletcher of Salion, by 
 James Meikle. father of the 
 tenth man who invented the 
 thrashing nmchine, ib. 
 
 first erected at ballon barley 
 mill, ib. 
 Fanning, system of, practised in Great 
 Britain. 220. 
 
 Buperior to that of the Conti- 
 nent, and causes thereof, ib. 
 
 ancient system of, in Great Bri- 
 tain, 220. 
 
 obstacles in the way of, ib. 
 Farms, regular breeding ones recom- 
 mended, 311. 
 
 on the si/x' of, 223. 
 
 on the hiring or renting of, 224. 
 Fit2herbert"s, Sir Anthony, ti-eatise ou 
 
 agriculture 207. 
 Flax, on the culture and management 
 of, 800. 
 
 1. Preparation. 
 
 2. Quantiivof seed, 
 
 3. 'I ime of pulling. 
 
 4. Method of watt-ring. 
 
 may be grown on moorish soils, 
 for the sake of the seed, with 
 gi-eat advantage, 301. 
 
 Fletcher, Su- H. his method of draimng, 
 319. 
 
 Flooding land, 320. 
 
 Foin, St, 297. 
 
 Gladstones. Mr, account of a machine in- 
 vented by him for reaping 
 corn, 249. 
 
 Grass husbandry, the nature and advan- 
 tages of, elucidate-d, 302, 
 
 1. Grasses forcutting. 
 
 2. Methods of consuming them. 
 
 3. Pasturage. 
 
 Gmss lands, on breaking up with the 
 plough, 306, 
 
 on their after management, ib. 
 
 when tJie soil is clay, 307. 
 
 when the soil is loant, 308. 
 
 wheM it is fen soil. 309. 
 Grass, when consumed byhve stock, 305. 
 Gravelly soils, naturally barren, 218. 
 
 deep ploughing beneficial to, ib. 
 
 H 
 
 Harrows, description of. 244. 
 Han-owing, object and best method of, 
 
 ib. 
 Hanest management of beans, 284, 
 
 of wheat, 2S0. 
 
 of barley, 281. 
 
 of oats, 282. 
 Hawke, Lord, on warping land, 326. 
 Heath or mountain sheep, 315. 
 Hedges, ihom. 327. 
 
 method of planting and train- 
 ing, ib. 
 Hemp, the culture of, described, 203. 
 
 seed, and metliod of sowing it, 
 ib. 
 
 after culture, 299, 
 
 method of keeping it, ib. 
 Hoeing beans. 284. 
 Hdllow drains. 320. 
 Ho[ie, Mr, of Rankeillor. his exertions in 
 
 favour of agriculture, 21-1. 
 Hops, on tlie tulture of, 301, 
 
 Horses, thediflTci'ent breeds of, ciplain ~ 
 
 ed, 310. 
 their diseases, and method ol 
 
 cure, 311. 
 for fann work, ib. 
 liiod projur for ihem, ib. 
 Husbandry, row, noi cnlculated for the 
 
 generalit) of British soili, 247, 
 unfavourable lo the rauing o) 
 
 culmifeious crops, ib, 
 corn, the chief object of Britiib 
 
 farmers, 225. 
 implements, description of those 
 
 used in Britain, 237. 
 obstacles lothe iuiprovement of, 
 
 324. 
 
 Jefferson President, his mode of forming 
 
 the plough t^r, 242 
 Implements of husl>andr>-, description oi, 
 
 237. 
 
 Improvements in husbandry, obstacle^ 
 
 to, 324. 
 Irrigation, antiquity of, 320. 
 
 praciiit^ to a considerable ex- 
 tent on the Duke of Buc* 
 clench's estates, ib. 
 estimate of the benefits of^ ib. 
 
 Kames on leases, 229, 
 
 K>loe or Highland breed, 313^. 
 
 Labour, rural, comparative view of oxen 
 
 to horses for. 317. 
 Land, mode of occupying it in Great 
 Britain, 225. 
 chiefly rented by farmers, ib, 
 tenures on which it is possessed, 
 
 ib. 
 rent of. 231. 
 Lease, an ancient mode of tenure inBri- 
 tain, 226. 
 did not afford perfect security to 
 the farmers of Scotland till 
 1449, 227, 
 nor in England till the reign of 
 Henr> Vlll, ib. 
 Leases, Mr Young's opinion concerning, 
 228. 
 benefit of, strikingly exempli- 
 fied in Scotland, ib. 
 bad effects of restrictive cove- 
 nants in England, 230. 
 Leguminous crops, on the culture and 
 
 management of, 283. 
 Leicester sheep, old, 314. 
 
 new. ib. 
 Lime husbandrj-, described, 266. 
 
 used witli great success in every 
 
 part of Bntain, ib. 
 theoreiioal writers mistaken as 
 to the nature and properties 
 of, ib, 
 experiments with, 267. 
 Lincolnshire sheep* 314. 
 Live stock, 3 10. 
 
 stock, on conjoining it with 
 com, ib. 
 Lomax, Mr, introduces the Rotherham 
 
 plough into Stotland, 239. 
 Lueem, 297. 
 
 M 
 
 Machine, thrashing, 250, 253. 
 
 reaping, 249. 
 Machinerj', objections against the intro- 
 duction of, answered, 255, 
 Manufactures, crops used in, 98. 
 >lanures, on the benefits or advantages 
 of, 256. 
 
 management and application of 
 dung, 257. 
 
 eompost middens, 264. 
 
 lime, 266. 
 
 marl, 270. 
 
 sea weed, ib. 
 
 ashes. 271. 
 Mares for breeding, management of, 311. 
 Marl, the several kinds of, noticed, 270. 
 
 Shelly marl. 
 
 Clay marl. 
 
 Stone marl. 
 
 Blue marl. 
 
 Impure and mixed mar). 
 Meado'ST bank's, Lord, account of his
 
 AGU 
 
 AG 11 
 
 34; 
 
 method of mflking compost 
 
 mid<l(?ii9, 2(.4 
 MciklC) Mr, atfouni of hU in^fiitinn of 
 
 tlie ihra^liinfj niiicliiiic, 251. 
 obJiKH'"''!!^ ^^i*-' to him by the 
 
 piiblii' on thai nccoimt, 255. 
 ri'ii)ainsiinrfwardi.-d, ib. 
 Meniicj, Mr Mich;u-I, accoinit of n mn- 
 
 chiiie cnctvd by hjin for 
 
 thrashing' corn wiih HuiIs, 252. 
 ^liililfiis, coiuiiost, 264. 
 Mildew, 277. 
 Mutimaiii ithee]), 315. 
 
 Veat cattle, 312. 
 
 N 
 
 O 
 
 Oats, mode of ctiUure and niannpement, 
 
 282. 
 of the several varieties cnUivat- 
 
 c-d in Brituin, ib. 
 1. Coiiiiiioii; 2. AnRiis ; 3. Po- 
 
 (imd ; 4. In'iexland ; 5. Red ; 
 
 6. Dun; 7. Tartar ; 8, Po- 
 
 tatoe. 
 
 1. Preparation. 
 
 2. t^unntity of seed. 
 
 3. Harvesting. 
 
 4. Produce. 
 
 Obstacles to improvement pointed out, 
 
 32-1. 
 Qxen, comparative view betwixt them 
 
 and hordes for rural labour, 
 
 317. 
 
 Paringand burning, not injurious to the 
 
 soil, 271. ] 
 
 Pease the culture of tliis pulse now 
 much disused in Britain, 287. 
 agree well with iinie, ib, 
 souie'.inu'S sown after grass, 283. 
 Scotch gray, il>. 
 Peat-earth, essay oil, by Mr. Rcnnie, 219. 
 dirferent opinions on the origin 
 of, ib. 
 Peti-e, Lonl, on filling drains, 310. 
 Pipe drains, 320. 
 
 Plougli, description of the various kinds 
 of, 237. 
 two sets of. required for perfect 
 
 tillage, 23S. 
 bad disadvantages of, ib. 
 history of, 23». 
 Kcjiherham, 23R. 
 ihi- Uutherham, introduced into 
 
 Scotland by MrLon)ax,239. 
 of Mr SnialPs improve*!, ib. . 
 new, of Mr Veitch's, 240. ' 
 old Scots, defects <»f, 2-1 1. 
 us<'ful for ploughing stony 
 
 land, ib. « 
 
 of wherl ploughs, ib. 
 cleaning or horse hoe, 242. 
 Plough-ear, President Jetl'erson's method 
 
 of forming it, ib. 
 Polled, or Galloway cattle, 313. 
 rotatoes. on the culture of, 2S8. 
 
 I. I'iTparalion of the ground. 
 
 2. (Quantity of ^eed. 
 
 3. The best ^'arieti(■s of. 
 
 4. Cleanmg process. 
 
 5. Curl. 
 
 0. Mi-thod of taking up and 
 storing the crop. 
 
 cainiol be rjistd in great tjiran- 
 
 lities except in the \ itiinily of 
 
 towns, ib. 
 Poor's rates, .131. 
 Poultry, R;c. of no advantage to the far- 
 
 iiit r. 3ie. 
 Principles, fiinduniental, of agriculture, 
 
 217. 
 Putrefaction of turnips prevented by 
 
 storing, 295. 
 
 1\ 
 
 Rabbits, &c. of no advantage to the far- 
 mer, 316. 
 Red clover. .102. 
 Kent of laud anciently |>aid in l.iiiil. 231. 
 
 now generally in nmney, ib. 
 Rollers, description of. 245. 
 Rolling, across most advantageous, ib. 
 Kotaituns of erops, the most improved 
 ones described, 273. 
 
 1. Fur deep rieli soils. 
 
 ^ 2. For loams and cla)S. 
 
 3. For loa'ms and tla) s of an m- 
 ierior desciiptioil. 
 
 4. For thin cla>s. 
 
 5. For soils mixed uith peat 
 earth. 
 
 fi. For light or gravelly soils. 
 
 7. For sandy soils, 
 Rotherham plough. 238. 
 Rural labour, comparative view of oxen 
 
 and horses for, 317- 
 Rust, 277. 
 Ruta baga, or Sw edish turnip, 291. 
 
 useful for horses, 292. 
 Rye-grass, 303. 
 
 makes excellent hay, 305. 
 Rye less cultivated now than in former 
 times, 282. 
 
 S 
 
 Sea weed, on the application and effects 
 of, 270. 
 of more benefit to light than 
 clay soils, 271. 
 
 Seed, imperfect, Dr Bell's e\periiuents 
 on the vegetation oli 280. 
 best kind should always be 
 used, ib. 
 
 Sheep, the numerous breeds of, classi- 
 fied, 314. 
 
 1. The Southdown. 
 
 2. The Lincolnshire. 
 
 3. Ihe New Leicester. 
 
 4. The Cheviot. 
 
 5. The Heath, or mountain, 
 modeof management of, 315. 
 
 Shelly marl, 270- 
 
 Sinclair, Sir .Tohn, establishes a Board of 
 Agriculture, 209. 
 
 Singt?rs, Dr, account by, of the improve- 
 ments made by irrigation on 
 the Duke of Buccleuch's es- 
 tate, 320. 
 
 Small, Janies, hi') iniprovcnients on the 
 Botherltiim ph.iigh. 23y. 
 his i-piniun on «hetl ploughs, 
 2-11. 
 Sod drains, 320. 
 buil, conipoinnt parls of. 217. 
 
 Dr Diek'on's opinion concera- 
 iiig, 21H. 
 Soiling ciitlii-, method of, 303. 
 Soils deliiiid, 2J». 
 
 iiiur primitive or original kinds 
 of soiK, viK. clay, ^and, gra- 
 vel, and peat. ib. 
 dcscrijiliun ot clay, ib. 
 ot sand, ib. 
 of gravel, ib. 
 
 of peat tarih or moss, 210. 
 
 uses to «hiili lath kind nmy be 
 
 most advaniHgeoiisly apjdicd, 
 
 ib. 
 
 ligiii, best adapted to grass ami 
 
 iiiintp husliandrj-, ih. 
 thin ones should be depastured 
 by sheep, 30(j. 
 Southdo\\n dieep. 314. 
 So«ingon ilie m niter fuiTOw most eligi- 
 ble on cliiy land, 271. 
 Souiiig ofwlieut, 276. 
 Stirling, Micliael, iiiv<nts a thrashing 
 
 .ii;K-hine, 250. 
 Stock, li\<, 310. 
 Stone « alls. 327. 
 
 mar!, 270. 
 Storing turnips, for winter consumption, 
 
 recommended, 292. 
 SunnnerfalloWj advantages of. 232. 
 opinion of Ur Dickson, 236. 
 niueh pi-aetised by the ancients, 
 
 235. 
 turnips may be taken on light 
 soils in lieu of, 236. 
 Surinam potatoes, or \auis, 230- 
 
 a good substitute for turnips in 
 spring, ib. 
 Swedish tin'iiip, or ruta bag;i, 291. 
 excellent fur horses, 202. 
 Swine, a species uf hve stock of considiT- 
 abte imjiortance to farmers, 
 315. 
 advantages of, shown, 316. 
 
 Tares, a idant ofahanly nature. 288. 
 
 slioidd be sown early when 
 
 meant for a crop, ib. 
 a beneficial article for soiling 
 horses and cattle, ib. 
 Tenants, public burdens borne by, 231. 
 heavier in England than in 
 Scotl;ind, ib 
 Thorn hedges, mode of planting and 
 
 traming, 327. 
 Thrashing inaehines, account of. 250. 
 history of the inveiHiun, ib. 
 benefits accruing from the in- 
 vention enuniti-ited. 251. 
 description and c:ilcidation of 
 one erected at Chillingham by 
 Mr Bailey, 253. 
 of wheat, 280. 
 Tillage, definiiion and objects of, 232. 
 
 anciently performed by manual 
 labour, ib. 
 
 Tillage, perfiirmcd in r.iodeni times by 
 
 lhr|.(nugll, ib. 
 ob^(n:ctioi:> tu. ib. 
 gi-eaily beueliied by summer 
 
 fallow, ib. 
 pert' ct, i«o acts of |iloughs rc- 
 
 tpiireil lor, 23«. 
 Turnips, on tin binufu^of that root, 290. 
 motle of euhixuling, ib. 
 
 1. Preparation. 
 
 2. Manuring. 
 
 3. Sow iiig, 
 
 4. 'J'iuie of sowing. 
 
 5. Cleaning pnicess, 
 _ (S. Consumptimi. 
 
 Turnip, yellow, the uselidneM of, point- 
 ed out, 291. 
 
 Swedish, (he culture of. recom- 
 mended, ib. 
 
 the advantages of storing for 
 winier toiisumpiior., 2'>2, 
 
 new variety of, recently intr<i- 
 dric»d, 2'»). 
 Tylhes, a gieai obHtaelc to improve- 
 ment. 32». 
 
 plan tui cummutijig, ib. 
 
 Vetches, 288. 
 
 Veittli, Jatnes, his improvements on llif" 
 
 plough, 240. 
 Virginia, method of thrashing, or tread- 
 
 iug out wheat, 255, 
 
 W 
 
 Walls, stone, 327. 
 
 >V:iiping or flondlng land, a henefical 
 practice. 325. 
 originated in Yorkshii-c. ib. 
 di-serib-d by Loj-d Haw ke. 326. 
 AVhcat, detail of the different processes 
 ri quired in the culture and 
 m:inagenu'nt of, 275. 
 
 1. Of the soil best adapted to the 
 grijwth of wheat. 
 
 2. Of the culture required. 
 
 3. Of the varieties ol seed. 
 
 4. Of setd-Avork. 
 
 5. Of pickling. 
 P. Of diseases. 
 
 7. Of harvest management. 
 
 8. Oftlnaslnng. 
 Wheel-can'iigcs. descrijitiim of the kinds 
 
 generallv used for farm pur- 
 poses, 245. 
 
 wagons not ttseftd to farmers, ib, 
 
 comparison betwixt one and two 
 horse carts. 246. 
 
 broad « heels recommended, ib. 
 Woods or plantations of trees, 327. 
 
 method of forming a planta- 
 tion, 328. 
 
 Yams, or Surinam potatoes, 25!0. 
 
 exctlieni substitute for turnips 
 in spring, ib. 
 Yellow tnrwips. 2yi, 
 Vuung, Arthur, his opinion on leases, 223. 
 
 AGRIGAN, or the island St Francis Xavier, is one 
 of the Ladrone or Mariana islands. It is about 47 miles 
 in circumference. It is very mountainous, and has se- 
 veral volcanoes. E. Long. 146°. N. Lat. 19° 40'. (j) 
 
 AGRIGENTUM, called by the Greeks Jcragas, a 
 •city on the south-east of Sicily, the site of which is 
 now pailly occupied by Girgenti. The principal part 
 of Agrigentum, next to Syracuse, the largest city in the 
 island, was situated in the vale ; but its citadel stood 
 near the top of a mountain, about 1100 feet above the 
 level of the sea, forming a most magnificent spectacle 
 at a distance. Antiquity has transmitted various tradi- 
 tions concerning its origin. Daedalus, the most cele- 
 brated artist of the fabulous ages, is said to have fled 
 hither from the resentment of Minos, and to have built 
 many wonderful edifices at the request of Cocalus, who 
 then reigned in Sicily. Thucydidcs informs us, that 
 long after that period, a colony from Gela settled on 
 
 this spot ; and, having greatly enlarged the town, gave 
 it the name of Acragas, from a neighbouring stream. 
 According to Polybius, however, it was founded by a 
 colony of Rhodians ; while Strabo assigns that honour 
 to the lonians. No situation could be more pleasant 
 than that of Agrigentum, or more favourable for the 
 purposes either of security or of commerce. The am- 
 ple vale on which it stood was watered by tlae rivers 
 Hypsa and Acragas, at the mouth of the latter of which 
 there was a commodious harbour; while the plain, 
 widening towards the shore, was freshened perpetually 
 by the sea-breeze ; and aftbrded a noble and uninterrupt- 
 ed prospect of the ocean : Verdant hills sheltered it 
 behind, and a ridge of abi'upt rocks presented a strong 
 natural barrier, which the additional fortifications of art 
 rendered almost impregnable. The commercial spirit 
 which these natural advantages excited, derived still 
 greater energy from the freedom of their government.
 
 344 
 
 AGU 
 
 AGR 
 
 and raised llicm to a liciglit of opulence and power, 
 rivalled by the Syracusanb alone. Buildings of singular 
 beauty and grandeur adorned all parts of the city. Of 
 these tlie temple of .hipiter Olympius was the most re- 
 markable. It was 340 feet long, 60 broad, and 12u in 
 height. Its columns and porticoes were in the finest 
 style of architecture : and its bas-reliefs and paintings 
 executed with admirable taste. On its eastern wall was 
 sculptured the battle of the giants; while the western 
 represented the Tiojan war, corresponding exactly with 
 the description which Virgil has given of the painting 
 in the temple of Juno at C^arthage ; {JEncid. i. 460.) A 
 church is now erected on foundations of large regular 
 stones, which were formerly part of a temple dedicated 
 to Ceres and Proserpine ; and a road to this temple ap- 
 pears, hewn in the solid rock. Majestic columns siill 
 remain, which indicate the former grandeur of the tem- 
 ple of Juno. An edifice of the Doric order, called the 
 Temfilc of Concord, has still its walls, its columns, en- 
 tablature, and pediments, entire ; and is now converted 
 into a church, consecrated to St Gregory, bishop of Gir- 
 genti. The other remains of the ancient magnificence 
 of Agrigentuni, are, the temple of Hercules, the tomb 
 of Hiero, the temple of jEsculapius, and the temple of 
 Castor and Pollux. On one side of the city there was a 
 large lake or fish-pond, dug out of the solid rock by Car- 
 thaginian captives, and to which the water was convey- 
 ed from the hills. It is described by Diodorus as seven 
 furlongs in circuit, and thirty feet deep ; great quanti- 
 ties of fish were bred in it for the public feasts; swans 
 and other water fowls were kept on it lor the amuse- 
 ment of the citizens ; and the depth of its water secured 
 the city on that side from the sudden assault of an ene- 
 my. Mr Swinburne informs us, that it is now quite dry, 
 and has been converted into a garden. It is a curious 
 fact, that though the whole space within the walls of 
 the ancient city abounds with traces of antiquity, there 
 are no ruins which can be supposed to have belonged 
 to places of public entertainment. The Agrigentines 
 ■were remarkably fond of shows and dramatic entertain- 
 ments ; and their connexion with the Romans must have 
 introduced among them the savage games of the circus. 
 Theatres and amphitheatres seem peculiarly calculated 
 to resist the outrages of time ; yet not a vestige of their 
 form is to be seen on the site of Agrigentum. 
 
 The Agrigentines were addicted to all the vices which 
 opulence usually produces. Their luxury and effemi- 
 nacy was proverbial. Empedocles, who attempted their 
 reformation, reproached them with building as if they 
 were to live for ever, and indulging in pleasure as if 
 every day were to be their last. Thus enervated and 
 corrupted, they could not long preserve their liberties; 
 but fell an easy sacrifice to the ambition of their rulers, 
 or the power of their foreign enemies. Phalaris was the 
 first who reduced thein to slavery, B.C. 571. He con- 
 tinued to rule for 15 years, detested for his cruelty, till 
 at length he was put to death, as some historians assert, 
 in the brazen bull which he had employed for torturing 
 his enemies. The Agrigentines, after his death, conti- 
 nued to enjoy their liberty for about 50 years, when 
 Thero usurped the sovereign power. During his active, 
 mild, and just government, they were tranquil, secure, 
 and happy. He joined his son-in-law Gelo, king of 
 Svracuse, in opposing t!ie Carthaginians; and, by their 
 united valour. S'cily was delivered for a time from her 
 African oppressors His son Thrasidjcus, who succeed- 
 ed him, was soon stripped of royalty ; and the Agrigen- 
 
 tines recovered their ancient democratical form of go 
 vernment. But their tranquillity was disturbed by 
 Ducetius, a chief of the mountaineers descended from 
 the Siculi ; and though their alliance with the Syracu- 
 sans enabled them to withstand his attempts, they were 
 involved in a quarrel with their allies themselves, and 
 forced, after an unsuccessful contest, to suljniit to hu- 
 miliating terms. Jealousy and resentment induced them 
 to join the Athenians in an attack against Syracuse ; but 
 finding that the protection of these new friends could 
 only be purchased by the loss oi liberty and fortune, they 
 soon returned to their former connexion. About seven 
 years after the defeat of the Athenians, Agrigentum was 
 besieged by a powerful army of Carthaginians, com- 
 manded by Hamilcar. The siege lasted for eight 
 months, during which the inhabitants had suffered the 
 most dreadful hardships : Many of them had removed 
 to Gela, and those who remained were put to the sword. 
 The city was reduced to ashes ; and its prodigious wealth, 
 which had never before been plundered, was now rifled 
 by the conquerors. For fifty years Agrigentum continued 
 a heap of ruins; till Timoleon, after defeating the Car- 
 thaginians, and restoring the liberxy of Sicily, collected 
 the descendants of the Agrigentines, and sent them to 
 rebuild the city of their ancestors. In a few years Agri- 
 gentum rose beyond its former power and importance, 
 and even arrogated the supremacy over all the Sicilian 
 republics. But their ambition was unsuccessful. After 
 a few brilliant exploits, they were defeated in a severe 
 engagement by Agathocks, to whom they humbly sued 
 for peace. The Agrigentines afterwards joined with 
 Pyrrlius, in his attempt upon Italy ; and, when that 
 prince left Sicily, they had recourse to the Carthaginians 
 for protection. Agrigentum was the head-quarters of 
 their new allies during the first Punic war. It was 
 therefore besieged by the Roman consuls ; and, though 
 defended by a numerous garrison, under the command 
 of Hanno, was compelled to surrender after a blockade 
 of eight months. From that period nothing remarkable 
 occurs in the history of Agrigentum. It was crushed 
 in the general fall of the Grecian state ; and its wretched 
 inhabitants, expelled by the Saracens, took refuge among 
 the bleak and Liaccessible rocks on which Girgenti now 
 stands, {k) 
 
 AGRIMONIA, a genus of plants belonging to the 
 class Dodecandria, and order Trigynij. See Bota- 
 ny, (ro) 
 
 AGRIONIA, Agriania, or Agrania, annual festi- 
 vals instituted at Argos, according to some, in honour of 
 Bacchus ; while others affirm, that they were held in 
 honour of a daughter of Proteus. They were celebra- 
 ted generally during the night, and those who attended 
 were crowned with garlands of ground ivy. In the de- 
 scription which Plutarch has given us of this festival, 
 the women are represented as engaged in a diligent 
 search for the jolly god, which having proved fruitless, 
 they all exclaim, " he is gone to the Muses !" They af- 
 terwards sup together, and spend the night in proposing 
 and solving enigmas. This mystery intimates, that 
 good cheer should always accompany learning and 
 genius, and that the votaries of Bacchus delight to as- 
 sociate with the Muses. All are excluded from this 
 feast whose family has ever been engaged in any barba- 
 rous enterprise ; and it is supposed to be the same with 
 that which was celeUiated at Thebes in honour of the 
 dead, {fi) 
 
 AGRIPPA, HENRt Cornelius, celebrated as one of
 
 AGRIPPA. 
 
 G45 
 
 the vcformcrs of learning, was born on the 14th Septem- 
 ber, 1486, at Cologne, of the noble and ancient family of 
 Netteshcym. Following the profession of his ancestors, 
 who had long been in the service of the house of Aus- 
 tria, he entered early into the army. Here his talents 
 procured him the situation of secretary to the emperor 
 Maximilian ; and after seven years service in Italy, 
 where he exhibited many proofs of his valour, he was 
 invested by that monarch with the lionourof knighthood. 
 Agrippa, however, was not satisfied with military glory : 
 He panted after literary distinction ; and, by his exten- 
 sive acquirements in languages, and his acquaintance 
 with the sciences of the times, he soon obtained the 
 honours to which he aspired. 
 
 After being created Doctor of Laws and Physic, his 
 attention was engaged by the chimerical projects of the 
 alchemists. He was i-ecommended to several princes, 
 as peculiarly qualified to find the philosopher's stone, the 
 grand talisman for converting the baser metals into 
 gold ; and while he looked forward to opulence and 
 fame as the recompense of this great discovery, his 
 liberty was frequently endangered, from the avarice of 
 the povrerful, %vho were desirous to obtain possession of 
 a man whom they imagined to be blessed with such pe- 
 culiar accomplishments. 
 
 With these wild and romantic views, Agrippa began 
 his travels, and spent a considerable time in Spain, 
 France, England, and Italy. When he was at Dole, in 
 Burgundy, he read lectures in the college, in order to 
 explain the mysterious work of Reuchlin, De Verbo 
 Mirifico ; and was honoured with the applause, as well 
 as with the presence, of the counsellors of parlia- 
 ment. 
 
 To obtain the good graces of Margaret of Austria, 
 he composed his Treatise on the Excellence of Women ; 
 but having unfortunately provoked the hostility of the 
 monks, by the freedom and novelty of his commenta- 
 ries on Reuchlin, he was prevented from publishmg it, 
 and was induced to depart for England, where he cm- 
 ployed himself in studying the Epistles of St Paul. 
 
 Upon his return to the continent, he read lectures on 
 theology at Cologne. He then joined the army of Max- 
 imilian in Italy, where he continued till he was sent for 
 to the council at Pisa. When this assembly was dis- 
 solved, he gave a course of theological lectures at Pavia 
 and Turin. During such a wandering and unsettled life, 
 Agrippa was unable to provide for the wants of a wife 
 and son, for whom he cherished the warmest affection. 
 He was therefore compelled to quit Pavia, and return 
 to his friends at Cologne ; by whose exertions, to pro- 
 cure him an honourable and permanent settlement, he 
 obtained the office of Syndic, Advocate, and Orator to 
 the city of Metz. This respectable office, however, 
 Agrippa was not destined to enjoy. The freedom of 
 thought which he had formerly ventured to exercise at 
 Dole was not soon forgotten; and the monks, who con- 
 tinued to follow him with an evil eye, soon found, in the 
 imprudence of Agrippa, sufficient means to excite 
 against him new jealousies and persecutions. Having 
 ventured to refute some foolish notions respecting the 
 mother of the Virgin Mary, and to save from the stake 
 an unhappy female, who was supposed to have inherited 
 witchcraft from her parents, the unextinguished hosti- 
 lity of the clergy again broke forth, and compelled him, 
 in 1520, to return for shelter to his native city. The 
 restlessness of his temper did n,ot permit him to remain 
 long at Cologne. He removed to Geneva in 1521, to 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 Friburg in 1523, and to Lyons In 1526, where he suc- 
 cessively praciised as a physician. 
 
 Louisa of Savoy, the mother of Francis I., to whom 
 Agrippa was now engaged as physici.in at Lyons, with 
 a handsome pension from her son, requested him to in- 
 form her, upon the principles of astrology, what suc- 
 cess would attend the arms of Francis I., in the war 
 which he then carried on willi the Constable of Bour- 
 bon. With this simple request Agrippa was not dis- 
 posed to comply. He reprobated the curiosity of tlie 
 lady as idle and impertinent, and refused to debase his 
 understanding, by exercising it on so ignoble a subject. 
 Unfortunately, however, for Agrippa, he had on some 
 former occasion calculated the nativity of the Constable, 
 and promised him, from the aspect of the heavens, a 
 glorious triumph over the arms of France. This cir- 
 cumstance soon reached the ears of his royal mistress ; 
 and though she might have borne from Agrippa the 
 indignity of a refusal, she could not brook the thought 
 that he had granted the same favour to another, and 
 flattered with the hopes of victory the enemies of her 
 country. Agrippa was dismissed from her service ; 
 his pension was stopped, and his name struck from the 
 civil list. This severe retaliation made a deep impres- 
 sion upon his mind. Again abandoned to tlie mercy of 
 the world, he could not conceal the mortification and 
 chagrin which preyed upon his spirits. Neither the re- 
 membrance of ibrmer sufferings, nor the consciousness 
 of integrity, could calm the tempest of indignation that 
 agitated his breast : It burst forth with the most licen- 
 tious fury ; and Agrippa, execrating the perfidy of his 
 mistress, and threatening revenge against the courtiers 
 that had ruined him, displayed in his conduct all the 
 impotent violence of the passions. As soon as reason 
 had resumed its influence, he began to look around him 
 for a new settlement. He fixed upon Antwerp, in the 
 Low Countries, where he arrived in 1528, and where 
 the singular variety of his talents excited universal no- 
 tice, and procured him numerous offers of distinguished 
 patronage. In the year 1529, he received invitations 
 from Henry VIII. of England, from the chancellor of 
 the emperor, from an Italian mai'quis, and from Marga- 
 ret of Austria, governess of the Low Countries. Agrip- 
 pa accepted the patronage of Margaret of Austria, who 
 immediately appointed him historiographer to her bro- 
 ther the emperor. In this honourable situation, he soon 
 found leisure for prosecuting his literary studies. He 
 published " The History of the Government of Charles 
 V.;" and in 1530, appeared his work, entitled "The 
 Vanity of the Sciences." In composing this treatise, 
 Agrippa seems to have forgotten the consequences of 
 his former imprudence. With an unmerciful hand, he 
 lashed the vices and prejudices of the times ; and at 
 such a signal the whole swarm of monks and theologians 
 were in arms. Working upon the weak mind of Mar- 
 garet of Austria, they persuaded her to desert her friend ; 
 and so far did she carry her hostility, that she even in- 
 duced the emperor to withdraw the pension of Agrippa, 
 and suffered him to be imprisoned for debt at Brussels, 
 in 1531. The death of Margaret, which happened soon 
 after, relieved Agrippa from confinement ; but his tran- 
 quillity was again disturbed by the publication of his 
 "Occult Philosophy ;" in which he proposed to explain 
 die harmony of the elementary, the intellectual, and the 
 celestial worlds. Tiiough this work met with the ap- 
 probation of many eminent prelates, the inferior clergy 
 suspected that error and heresy lurked in its pages, and 
 X X
 
 346 
 
 AGRIPPA. 
 
 succeeded in preventing the publication of a second 
 edition. This success, however, was only temporary : 
 Agrippa published his work at Cologne, in 1533; and, 
 in an apology for himself to the senate of his native city, 
 he inveighed with freedom and warmth against the bigo- 
 try of his accusers. The violent resentment excited by 
 this new attack upon the clergy, involved Agrippa in 
 fresh calamities. He was compelled to v/ithdraw to 
 Bonn, from which, after a short stay, he returned to 
 Lyons. Here he was thrown into prison, on account 
 of some satirical compositions which he had published 
 against the mother of Francis I. ; and being released 
 from confinement by the interposition of his friends, he 
 retired to Grenoble, where he died in 1535, at the age 
 of forty-nine. 
 
 In following Agrippa through the different stages of 
 his eventful life, we cannot fail to be struck with that 
 wonderful variety of talents which fitted him for the 
 numerous duties which he discharged. As a soldier and 
 a physician, a lawyer and a lecturer, a metaphysician 
 and a theologian, the versatility of his genius enabled 
 him to attain the highest distinction. But with all his 
 accomplishments, and with all the attention that he re- 
 ceived from the most illustrious princes of the age, 
 Agrippa was not destined to enjoy a life of comfortable 
 independence. No sooner was he settled in some ho- 
 nourable situation, than his restless and capricious spirit 
 began to disturb his repose ; while the rashness and im- 
 prudence of his conduct excited around him a crowd of 
 enemies. With a mind far exalted above the superstitious 
 prejudices of the age, and armed with the most dauntless 
 and obstinate fortitude, he nobly dared to think for him- 
 self, and fearlessly to speak and write the sentiments 
 ■which he cherished. Though attached to the Catholic 
 faith, he boldly attacked the ignorance and folly of the 
 times, and exposed the intrigues and errors of a cor- 
 rupted priesthood. At a time when Luther was propa- 
 gating the principles of the i-eformation, and had in 
 some measure unsettled the foundation of the Romish 
 hierarchy, the Catholic priests were particularly jealous 
 of new opinions, and ready to detect and punish every 
 attempt even against the outworks of their faith. Hence 
 Agrippa was assailed with all the malignity of an exas- 
 perated clergy : He was represented to his royal patrons 
 as the friend of heresy and reform ; and, driven from 
 city to city, he experienced all the embarrassments of 
 a dependent and unsettled life, and all the unsteadiness 
 of princely favour. But though the exertions of Agrip- 
 pa were not rewarded by his contemporaries, posterity 
 will do justice to his memory, and will rank him with 
 those intrepid sages who have opposed the progress of 
 vice and error, and sacrificed the tranquillity of their 
 lives to the interests of truth and science. 
 
 The pretensions of Agrippa as an alchemist and an 
 astrologer, are not easily reconciled with that candour 
 and love of truth which seemed to adorn his character. 
 If he had not calculated the nativity of the constable 
 Bourbon, nor written a commentary upon the works of 
 Raymond LuUy, that notorious impostor, we might have 
 regarded his attention to these studies as the submission 
 of a great mind to the harmless prejudices of the age ; 
 but he who can seriously employ the cool moments of 
 retirement, to compose a process for converting iron 
 Into silver, and brass into gold, and who can publish it 
 TO the world with all the confidence of truth, must, we 
 fear, be animated by some less honourable motive than 
 a spirit of accommodation, or a love of fame. Before 
 
 censuring Agrippa, however, we ought to remember, 
 that our celebrated countiyman, Roger Bacon, was also 
 an alchemist ; that in the seventeenth century, several 
 distinguished characters were in quest of the philoso- 
 pher's stone ; and that, even in the present enlightened 
 age, there are not a few who spend their days and their 
 nights in search of the perpetual motion. 
 
 Besides the works which have been already mentioned, 
 Agrippa wrote a " Dissertation upon original sin," in 
 which he maintains, that the fall was occasioned by the 
 immodesty and lust of our first parents. He also com- 
 posed a work on the crimes and heresies of the Domi- 
 nicans, who were the chief directors of the Inquisition, 
 but this treatise was never published. An imperfect 
 edition of his works in 8vo, was printed at Lyons in 1586, 
 and at Paris in 1726. His Vanity of the Sciences was 
 published at Antwerp in 1530, 1532, and 1539 ; at Paris, 
 in 8vo, in 1531 ; and has been translated into French and 
 Italian. (|3) 
 
 AGRIPPA, Marcus Vipsanius, a celebrated Roman 
 general, who flourished in the reign of Augustus. 
 Though of obscure origin, he was chosen at an early 
 age to be the companion and fellow-student of the 
 young Octavitts, between whom and Agrippa a friend- 
 ship commenced, which ended only with their lives. At- 
 tached by gratitude, as well as by inclination, to the 
 family of Coesar, he strenuously exerted himself in pro- 
 moting its glory. During the long and arduous strug- 
 gles, which, at that period, agitated the Roman world, 
 Agrippa continued the stedfast adviser and supporter of 
 his friend. His eloquence and his sword were equally- 
 devoted to his interests. He appeared before the senate 
 as the accuser of Cassius for the murder of Caesar ; and 
 his services in the field, and on the sea, were the great 
 means of placing, and maintaining, Octavius upon the 
 throne of Rome. With a body of veteran troops he 
 rescued his general Salvidienus from a most perilous 
 situation, into which he had been brought by Lucius, 
 the brother of Antony, and compelled the enemy to re- 
 tire into Perusia, which soon after surrendered to the. 
 arms of his master. It was to his skill and braveiy, also, 
 that Octavius was indebted for the defeat of S. Pompey's 
 fleet on the coast of Sicily ; and for the famous victory 
 at Actium, in the year B. C. 31, the consequences of 
 which left him without a competitor in the empire. 
 Such signal services were not forgotten by Octavius, 
 nor were the favours of his master ever abused by Agrip- 
 pa. Octavius having now obtained the supreme au- 
 thority, consulted with Maecenas and Agrippa, his con- 
 fidential friends, concerning his future conduct in the 
 commonwealth. Agrippa, with a generous frankness 
 and honesty seldom found in the favourite of a great 
 prince recommended a general resignation of his power 
 into the hands of the senate, to convince the world, that 
 he had taken up arms, not for his own aggrandizement, 
 but only to revenge the death of his father, and to restore 
 liberty to his country. He put him in mind of the fate 
 of Sylla and Caesar, and represented to him the inevita- 
 ble dangers attending the government of a people who 
 were jealous of their rights, and accustomed to liberty. 
 The advice of the courtly Maecenas, however was mere 
 palatable to a victorious Roman : — to retain the superi- 
 ority which he had acquired, and not to intrust the welfare 
 of the state in the hands of men, who might again open 
 the still bleeding wounds of their country, and embroil it 
 in all the horrors of another civil war ; but he besought 
 him to use his authority, as one who knew what it was to
 
 AGHIPPA. 
 
 347 
 
 obey as well as to command. Though the advice of 
 Agi-ippa was disregarded, his fidelity remained unshaken, 
 and Octavius still continued to give him the most flat- 
 tering marks of his favour and esteem. He was 
 twice his colleague in the consulate. He conferred 
 upon him the joint command of the army with him- 
 self, by which he enjoyed equal power and honour as 
 his master. He even adopted him into the imperial 
 family by giving him in marriage his niece Marcella, 
 the sister of the young Marccllus ; and such was his 
 regard for his friend, and the firm confidence which he 
 placed in his abilities, that when his life was supposed 
 to be in danger, in the year B. C 23. he gave his ring 
 to Agrippa, without naming a successor ; no doubt in- 
 timating by this, tliat he considered him the fittest per- 
 son to succeed him-^to preserve the peace, and to main- 
 tain the dignity of the empire. This last circumstance, 
 howevei", drew upon Agrippa the severe displeasure of 
 Marcellus, who having married Julia, the daughter of 
 Augustus, had looked with confidence to the throne of 
 his father-in-law. So much indeed, was Marcellus af- 
 fected by this disappointment, that Augustus, on his re- 
 covery, thought it advisable to remove Agrippa frosn 
 court, by appointing him to the rich government of Sy- 
 ria. But Agrippa contented himself with sending his 
 lieutenants into that province, and residing himself as a 
 private individual at Mitylene. Upon the death of Mar- 
 cellus, which happened the same year, Agrippa was re- 
 called to Rome, where some disturbances rendered his 
 presence necessary, and he received from the emperor 
 the hand of his daughter Julia, the witlow of Marcellus. 
 When Maecenas was consulted about this marriage, he 
 replied, " You have made Agrippa so great, that you 
 must either take him off, or make him your son-in-law." 
 But his public prosperity was greatly imbittercd by his 
 domestic misfortunes. The abandoned conduct of the 
 infamous Julia is well known in the history of that pe- 
 riod. 
 
 Since the accession of Augustus, the enemies of the 
 empire had remained quiet on the frontiers, without 
 attempting to disturb its peace, when all on a sudden, 
 an irruption of the Germans into Gaul called for the im- 
 mediate presence of Agrippa ; but such was the terror 
 which his name inspired, that they quickly recrossed the 
 Rhine at the news of his approach. But tlie reduction 
 of the Cantabrians, a warlike nation in Spain, who had 
 revolted from the Roman yoke, required all his skill and 
 exertions. This people were well acquainted with the Ro- 
 inan discipline and valour, and anticipating the dreadful 
 vengeance which would attend their failure, they marched 
 to battle with a determination either to conquer or fall ; 
 and they fought with all the fury of despair. The Ro- 
 mans, awed by the intrepidity and fierceness of their 
 manner, were unable to withstand their attack, and were 
 obliged to retreat witli precipitation and disgrace. It 
 required all the abilities and courage of Agrippa to re- 
 trieve his disasters. Threats and entreaties were em- 
 ployed in vain, and it was not until he had branded a 
 whole legion with ignominy, that he restoi-ed discipline 
 to his troops, and brought them to oppose the enemy. 
 His endeavours were at last successful. Animated by 
 his example, the Romans gained a most decisive victory, 
 which put an end to the war, and Agrippa himself con- 
 fessed, that he had never been engaged in an enterprise 
 more difficult and dangerous than this. Upon his re- 
 turn a triumph was decreed him by the senate, which 
 he refused (as is supposed) at the desire of the em- 
 
 peror ; and the trlbunitian power was conferred upon 
 him for five years. 
 
 During the absence of Augustus, who had gone to vi- 
 sit his eastern provinces, Agrippa was appointed to the 
 government of the city, an office which he discharged 
 with great affability and firnuicss. He was allerward.s 
 instituted joint censor with the emperor, who, with the 
 assistance of Agrippa, proceeded lo the reformation of 
 the laws, and the various abuses of the government, 
 particularly of the senatorial order. In the year B. C". 
 14, he was sent to settle tlie aftairs in Asia Minoi'. He- 
 was received with great honour by Herod, king of Judca, 
 at whose request he confirmed the Jews in their privi- 
 leges, — the free exercise of their religion, and exemp- 
 tion from military duty, of which they had been deprived 
 by the Roman governors. From thence he proeecded 
 with an expedition to quiet some disturbances in the 
 Cimmerian Bosphorus ; for which service he was de- 
 creed a triumph by the senate, which he again refused, 
 and the tribunitian power was conferred upon him for 
 five years more. His last expedition was to Panonia, 
 where, having been sent with a large army, and uncon- 
 trolled authority, he quieted, by his presence alone, the 
 troubles which had arisen in that quarter. Returning 
 to Rome, he was seized with a violent fever in Campa- 
 nia, which soon terminated his existence in the 51st 
 year of his age, B. C. 12. Augustus was inconsolable 
 for his loss. He ordered his body to be conveyed to 
 Rome : He pronounced his funeral eulogy, and buried 
 him in his own mausoleum, near the body of Marcellus, 
 declaring that he would not be separated after his death 
 from those to whom he was so tenderly attached during 
 his life. 
 
 As a commander, Agrippa was equalled by few, and 
 surpassed by none, in the troublesome times in which he 
 lived. To this Horace bears eminent testimony, in his 
 6th Ode, B. I., where he confesses his inability to cele- 
 brate worthily his great exploits ; and the sketch of his 
 character forms a most conspicuous feature in Virgil's 
 noble description of the battle of Actium : 
 
 Parte alia ventis, et Dis Agrippa secundis, 
 Ardiius, agmen agens : cui, belli insigiie superbuitl, 
 Tempora navali fulgent rostrata corona. 
 
 JEx. viii. 682. 
 
 But it was not for his military operations alone that he 
 was distinguished. To him Rome was indebted for 
 some of its most nragnificent decorations, of which the 
 most remarkable were his portico for the use of the 
 public assemblies, and the Pantheon, which still remains 
 an object of admiration. The public shows with which 
 he entertained the people when he held the office 
 of jEdile, were conducted with a magnificence before 
 unknown ; and upon this subject Horace pays him a 
 high, and at the same time a most delicate compliment 
 in his 3d Satire, Book H. 
 
 Scilicet ut plausus, quos feit Agrippa, feras tii, 
 Astuta ingenuum vulpes imitata leonem ? 
 
 His liberality was equalled by his modesty. His declin- 
 ing to accept of the highest honours, from a regard to 
 the ieelings of his prince, could not but endear him to 
 Augustus, who lost in Agrippa his ablest general, his 
 wisest minister, and his most faithful friend. Indeed, 
 in every action of his life were displayed the purest love 
 for his country, and the most disinterested fidelity to 
 X X 3
 
 348 
 
 AGHIPPA. 
 
 Ilia master. Sec Sueton. vU. August. Dion. Cass. lib. 
 45. 54. An^ Un. Hist. vol. xii. Gen. Biog. Crevier's 
 Hist. Horn. £m/i.\o\. iii. (//) 
 
 AGRIPPA Menenius, was l)orn of a plebeian family, 
 but soon rose to the highest rank in the state. He was 
 consul at Rome A. U. 251, B. C. 503, and obtained the 
 honours of a triumph for a decisive victory, which he 
 gained over the Sabines. In the disputes which arose 
 between the plebeians and patricians concerning the 
 punishment of insolvent debtors, when the commons, 
 in the consulate of Virginius and Velurius, retired to the 
 sacred mount, and refused to submit to the authority of 
 the consuls until their grievances were redressed, Me- 
 nenius was chosen the deputy of the patricians, with the 
 injunction tn endeavour, by every means, to bring about 
 a reconciliation. He was an able orator, and much be- 
 loved by the people on account of his mean origin. 
 "\Vhen admitted within the camp, he is said to have pro- 
 nounced the celebrated apologue of the Stomach and 
 the Members, which so softened their resentment, that 
 being allowed to have magistrates of their own choosing, 
 called Tribunes, whose persons were to be sacred, they 
 returned to the city. Menenius died at an advanced age, 
 universally regretted, both by the patricians and the 
 commons, to whom he had performed the most impor- 
 tant services; and highly esteemed for wisdom and in- 
 tegrity, yet so poor, that he did not leave what was ne- 
 cessary to defray the expenses oJ his funeral. He was 
 buried, however, in a magnificent manner, according to 
 Livy, at the charge of the people, who assessed them- 
 selves for that purpose ; while others affirm, that the 
 expenses of his funeral were defrayed by the senate out 
 of the public treasury, and that the assessment of the 
 commons was given as dowries to his daughters. See 
 -Lru. Lib. ii. c. 16. 32. 33. Diuiiys. Halicarn. torn. 1. p. 
 340. 390. Flurian, b. i. c. 23. (/(.) 
 
 AGRIPPA, Herod, was the son of Aristobulus and 
 Berenice,* and grandson of Herod the great. He was 
 born about seven years before the Christian era. After 
 the death of his father, Herod directed his education, 
 and sent him to Rome. He was favourably received by 
 Tiberius, and placed about the person of his son Drusus; 
 but, after the death of that prince, all who had been his 
 companions were commanded by the emperor to leave 
 Rome, lest their presence should recal the remembrance 
 of his son, and renew his affliction for his loss. Agrippa 
 had lived very profusely, and when he left Rome, was 
 burdened with debts. As he was therefore unable to 
 appear at Jerusalem, in a manner suited to his rank, 
 he retired to the castle of Massada, and lived there in 
 a very private manner. Herod Antipas, his uncle, as- 
 sisted him with great generosity ; appointed huu chief 
 magistrate of Tiberias, and presented him with consider- 
 able sums of money. His extravagance, however, was 
 so excessive, that at length Herod found it necessary to 
 hint to him the impropriety of his conduct. This re- 
 monstrance so much offended Agrippa, that he resolved 
 to leave Judea; and, having borrowed money, through 
 the influence of his wife Cypros, and his freedman 
 Maryas, he set out for Rome, A. D. 35. He was per- 
 mitted to join Tiberius at Caprea, and received an apart- 
 ment in his palace. He was afterwards directed by the 
 emperor to attend Tiberius Nero, the son of Drusus ; 
 but he chose rather to attach himself to Caius Caligula, 
 
 the son of Gcrmanicus. As he was conversing on one 
 occasion with this prince, he expressed a wish for the 
 death of Tiberius, and for the elevation of his friend to 
 the throne. Having been overheard, and accused to 
 the emperor, by one of his own slaves, whom he had 
 made free, he was thrown into prison, and loaded with 
 fetters ; but, Tiberius dying soon after, Caligula, who 
 succeeded him, changed the iron chain of Agrippa into 
 one of gold oi the same weight; placed a diadem on liis 
 head ; gave him the title of king ; and bestowed upon 
 him the greater part of Judea as his dominions. 
 
 His sister Herodias, who was married to his uncle 
 Herod Antipas, the tetrarch of Galilee, being very de- 
 sirous that her husband also should have the title of 
 king, induced him to go to Rome, in order to obtain it 
 from Caligula. But, while he was receiving audience 
 of the emperor, P'ortunatus, the freedman of Agrippa, 
 presented letters from his master, accusing Herod of 
 having formerly held a secret correspondence with Se- 
 janus ; of being in treaty with Artabanus, king of Par- 
 thia ; and of having already collected arms for 70,000 
 troops. Herod was immediately banished into Gaul, 
 and his tetrarchy given to Agrippa. A short time af- 
 ter this, Agrippa went again to Rome, and prevailed 
 with the emperor to abandon his purpose of compelling 
 the Jews to honour him with a statue, and to worship 
 him as a divinity in their temple. While he was still 
 at Rome, Caligula was cut off by a conspiracy ; and he 
 assisted greatly to advance Claudius to the empire. 
 For this service, he received farther additions to his 
 dominions, and returned to Judea, in possession of terri- 
 tories as extensive as those of his grandfather Herod. 
 He had influence also with Claudius to procure the 
 kingdom of Chalcis for his brother Herod. In order to 
 please the Jews (who seem to have been satisfied with 
 his government,) he persecuted the Christians ; put to 
 death James, the brother of John the Evangelist, and 
 imprisoned the Apostle Peter, Acts xii. 1, 2, 3. Soon 
 after this, he went to Caesarea, and there instituted 
 games in honour of the emperor Claudius. At the 
 same time there came to him ambassadors from Tyre 
 and Sidon, to sue for peace. He gave them audience 
 in the theatre, early in tlie morning, and appeared in 
 great magnificence. When he spoke, his flatterers ex- 
 claimed, that it was the voice of a god and not of a 
 man. They were joined by the multitude in these im- 
 pious acclamations, and were encouraged in their blas- 
 phemy by the gi-acious manner in which it was received 
 by Agrippa. He was instantly seized with violent pains 
 in his bowels, and carried back to his palace. His body 
 began to be devoured by worms ; and, after suffering 
 extreme agony for the space of five days, he died about 
 the year 44, leaving a son named Agrippa, and three 
 daughters, Berenice, Mariamne, and Drusilla. Joseph. 
 Antiij. lib. xviii. c. 7, &c. lib. xix. c. 3. &c. (y) 
 
 AGRIPPA, the younger, son of Agrippa Herod, was 
 at Rome when his father died ; and Claudius was at 
 first disposed to give him all the dominions which his 
 father had possessed ; but as Agrippa was then only 17 
 years of age, he kept him four years at his court ; and 
 sent Cuspius Fadus, in the mean time, to govern in Ju- 
 dea. In the following year, he rendered considerable 
 service to the Jews, by his influence with the emperoF, 
 and secured to them several of their privileges, which 
 
 • In several sketches of his history, he has been called the son of Aristobulus and Mariamne. His father Aristobulus was tlie son of 
 Herod the Great, by his wife Marjamne ; but the wifs of Arislobidus and mother of Agrippa, was named Berenice. Joseph, .ir.tiq. 
 Kb. xvi. c. 2.
 
 AGR 
 
 AGU 
 
 349 
 
 they were in danger of losing. After the death of Herod, 
 king of Chalcis, uncle to Agrippa, the emperor bestowed 
 that kingaoni upon the young prince, but still kept him 
 in Romu. He sent him to Judea, A. D. 53; and, in- 
 stead of Chalcis, gave him the province of Felix, and 
 the territories which had belonged to Lysanias. After 
 the deatli of Claudius, Agrippa was also favoured by 
 Nero, and leceivetl from him still farther additions to 
 his dominions. When Festus, governor of Judea, was 
 on nis way to Jerusalem, A. D. 60, Agrippa, and his 
 sister Berenice, went to meet him at Caesaiea. They 
 continued there some time ; and happening to converse 
 about the affair of Paul (who had been imprisoned two 
 years before, and who had appealed to the emperor), 
 Agrippa expressed a wish to hear him ; and, as Festus 
 was also desirous to have Agrippa's opinion on the case, 
 he ordered Paul to be brought before them the day iol- 
 lowing. For an account of Paul's defence, see Acts 
 XXVI. Agrippa exerted himself to repress the com- 
 motions which began to prevail in Judea about this time ; 
 but the Jews, excited by turbulent men, and exasperated 
 by the cruelties of their governors, declared war against 
 the Romans, A. D. 66. Agrippa then joined his troops 
 with the Romans, and assisted in the siege of Jerusalem. 
 After the destruction of that city, he retired to Rome 
 witn nis sister Berenice (with whom he was suspected of 
 living in a manner not to be mentioned), and died at 70 
 years of age, A. D. 98. Joseph. AntUj. lib. xix. c. 9.; 
 lib. XX. c. 1, 3, 5, 7. De Bello Jud. lib. ii. c. 22. 23, 24. ; 
 lib. iii. c. 2. ; lib. iv. c. 3, 6. ; lib. vi. c. 2. (y) 
 
 AGRIPPINA, the wife of the emperor Tiberius, was 
 the daughter of M. Agrippa, (the intimate friend of Au- 
 gustus) and of Marcella, the niece of Augustus. She 
 was much beloved by her husband Tiberius ; and it was 
 with great reluctance that he put her away, in order to 
 unite himself with Julia, the daughter of Augustus : 
 (^Sueton. -Aug. c. 63. Tiber, c. 7.) She afterwards mar- 
 ried Asinius Gallus, the son of Asinius PoUio ; but Ti- 
 berius was so much offended by this marriage, and by 
 some expressions which Gallus had used in the senate, 
 that he threw him into prison, and starved him to death. 
 Tacit, jinn. 1. i. c. 12. (</) 
 
 AGRIPPINA, the wife of Germanicus, was the 
 daughter of M. Agrippa, and of Julia, the daughter of 
 Augustus. She was remarkable for her ambition, cou- 
 rage, and attachment to her husband ; and prosecuted 
 his murderers with the utmost resolution. Tiberius, 
 however, who was suspected of having procured the 
 death of Germanicus, treated her and her children with 
 great injustice : {Sueton. Tiber, c. 52.) He at length 
 charged her with various crimes ; and commanded her 
 to be punished in so disgraceful and barbarous a manner, 
 that she starved herself to death. Sueton. Tiber, c. 64. 
 Tacit. Ann. 1. 16. c. 25. (?) 
 
 AGRIPPINA, the daughter of Germanicus, was born 
 in a city of the Ubians, now Cologne, in Germany. She 
 was a woman of great talents, and composed several 
 memoirs, from which Tacitus acknowledges, that he 
 drew some of the materials of his history {Tacit. Ann. 
 1. iv. c. 58.) ; but she was equally remarkable for her 
 pride, cruelty, and profligacy. She was much admired 
 for her beauty ; and was three times married. Her last 
 husband was Claudius the Emperor, her own uncle ; with 
 whom she was anxious to be connected, and whom she 
 persuaded to adopt her son Nero. She spared no means 
 to accomplish her purpose ; procuring the death of some 
 who stood in her way, and prostituting her person to 
 
 others, whose influence she wished to secure. {Tacit. 
 Ann. 1. xi. c. 3. 8c 24.) She at length poisoned her hus- 
 band to make room for her son; and recalled Seneca 
 from exile, to superintend his instruction {Tacit. Ann. 
 1. xii. c. 66.) Stdl, however, she wished to direct every 
 thing in the empire ; but Nero soon began to resist and 
 reduce her influence. He attempted to destroy her by 
 drowning ; and, when his plot failed, he ordered her to 
 be murdered in her chamber. {Suetcrn. JVero, c. xxxiv.) 
 It is said, that she requested the executioner to slab her 
 in the belly, which had brought forth such a monster as 
 Nero. {Tacit, ylnn. 1. xiv. c. 8.) She was related to a 
 greater number of emperors than any woman before her 
 time : as she was the sister of Caligula, the wife of Clau- 
 dius, and the mother of Nero, (y) 
 
 AGROM, a disease common in Bengal, and other dis- 
 tricts of Hindostan ; and supposed to arise from extreme 
 heat of the stomach. It consists in a chopping and 
 cleaving of the tongue, which becomes exceedingly 
 rough, and sometimes disfigured with white spots. The 
 general remedy for this disease is to chew the black- 
 seeded basilica, and drink the juice of mint, or some 
 chalybeate water, (to) 
 
 AGROSTEMMA, from «/j« and n/^fia, the garland 
 of the field., or corn cockle, is a genus of plants belonging 
 to the class Dccandria, and order Pentagynia. See 
 Botany, {iv) 
 
 AGROSTIS, a genus of plants belonging to the 
 class Triandria, and order Digynia. See Botany, (to) 
 
 AGROSTOGRAPIIIA,from a/^o?;?, ,gTas«,and yja^jj, 
 description, is the history and description of different 
 kinds of grasses. A learned work was written on this 
 subject by John Sceucher, containing an account of four 
 hundred species of grass, (to) 
 
 AGROTIRI, the most southern promontory of the 
 island of Cyprus, now called Cape de Gatti, from the 
 number of cats kept by the monks for hunting the snakes, 
 which had become very numerous. See Sonnini's Tra- 
 vels, p. 56. (o) 
 
 AGUE, a disorder belonging to the class of Fevers, 
 in which the paroxysms return at particular periods. 
 See Medicine, (to) 
 
 AGUER, the Visugriim of the ancients, a seaport 
 town in Africa, built by the Portuguese near Cape 
 Geer. Mohammed, who became emperor of Morocco 
 and Fez, attacked it in 1536, and lost 16,000 men before 
 it capitulated. In revenge for this loss, he put the 
 whole garrison to the sword, except the governor, 
 Mont Roy, whom Mohammed spared on account of his 
 daughter, Donna Mercia, who consented to marry him. 
 
 AGUESSEAU, Henry Francis D', a chancellor of 
 France, and, according to Voltaire, the most learned 
 magistrate which that country ever possessed, was born 
 at Limoges in 1 658. He filled the onicc of advocate-gen- 
 eral for 10 years, and was promoted to that of procureur- 
 general in 1700 ; in both of which offices, he was distin- 
 guished by all the qualities which can adorn a public 
 character, and by all the virtues of private life. He was 
 made chancellor under the regency of the duke of Or- 
 leans, and performed the duties of that higli station with 
 that prudence and fortitude which was suited to the 
 exigencies of the times. He resisted, for a considerable 
 time, the financial project of Law ; but as the regen' 
 had resolved to adopt that measure, the chancellor was 
 obliged to retire from office in 1719. The dignity of 
 chancellor, however, was a second time conferred upon
 
 350 
 
 AHA 
 
 AHA 
 
 him in 1720. In 1722, he was again dcprivcil of that 
 office, but was recalled by cardinal Fleuiy in 1727 ; and, 
 in 1737, he was a third time put in possession of the 
 seals, which he retained during the reinainder of his 
 life. In 1750, the infirmities of age bearini^ licavily 
 upon his constitution, induced him to withdraw from 
 his public duties, and terminated his life in 1751, at the 
 age of 83. 
 
 As an active and upright statesman, Aguesscau has 
 seldom been equalled. When deprived of the dignity 
 and emoluments of office, he never made the least at- 
 tempt to regain thcni, but, disclaiming the intrigues of 
 faction, he uniformly evinced a desire to serve his fcoun- 
 try rather than himself. During the last 20 years of his 
 life, the whole force of his mind was directed to the 
 great object of remcdyhig the defects of the laws, cor- 
 recting their abuses, and facilitating the administration 
 of public justice. As a literary character, Aguesseau 
 was highly distinguished. He was well acquainted with 
 the languages of antiquity as well as the principal ones 
 of modern times. His knowledge of histoiy and juris- 
 prudence was solid and extensive ; his eloquence was 
 rich and persuasive; and his style chaste and harmonious. 
 His works have been piiblished in nine volumes 4to. (o) 
 
 AGUIGAN, one of tlie Ladrone isles, about nine 
 •miles in circumference. It is pleasant, though moun- 
 tainous, and was formerly well inhabited. E. Long. 146° 
 5'. N. Lat. 14° 43'. (w) 
 
 AGUILA, a district in the kingdom of Fez, in Africa, 
 which has a capital of the same name, situated on the 
 River Aguila. In general it is sandy and barren, though 
 some places produce abundance of dates, {m) 
 
 AGUILLANEUF, from a, to, gui, misleto, and fan 
 neuf, the new year, is the name given to a ceremony, 
 with which the ancient Franks hailed the commence- 
 ment of the year. It is supposed to have been borrowed 
 from tlie druids, who went in solemn procession, in the 
 month of December, to gather the misleto from the oak. 
 The arch-druid, ascending the oak, cut off the misleto 
 with a golden sickle, and the attending druids received 
 it in a white cloth. The misleto, after being blessed, and 
 consecrated, with the cry of J gui L\in neiif, was dis- 
 tributed among the people on the first day of the year. 
 The same appellation has been transferred to other ridi- 
 culous ceremonies, (o) 
 
 AGUSTINE, a name given by Trommsdorff to a new 
 earth, which he supposed he had discovered in the Saxon 
 beryl, in 1800. See Annales de C/iimie, vol. xxxiv. p. 
 133. (to) 
 
 AGYEI, were obelisks of timber or stone consecrated 
 to Apollo, or, as some say, to Bacchus, as the protector 
 of the highways. Some authors have considered them 
 as a kind of direction-posts intended to point out tlie 
 town to which the roads conducted, (to) 
 
 AGYNEIA, a genus of plants belonging to the 
 class Moncccia, and order Gynandria. See Botany, (w) 
 
 AHAB, king of Israel, was the son and successor of 
 Omri. He married Jezebel, the daughter of Ethbaal, 
 king of the Sidonians ; and was persuaded by her to es- 
 tablish in Israel the idols Baal and Ashtaroth. The pro- 
 phet Elijah reproved him for his idolatry, and predicted 
 a famine of three years, duration in his dominions. About 
 the end of that period, Ahab, at the request of Elijah, as- 
 sembled the people of Israel, and the prophets of Baal, 
 to offer sacrifice. Elijah then proposed to ascertain 
 which was the true God, whether Baal or Jehovah, by 
 calling upon them separately to consume the offering on 
 
 theii respective altars, by fire from heaven. Tlie pro- 
 posal was accepted ; and, at the prayer of Elijah, " the 
 lire of the Lord fell and consun»ed his burnt offering ;" 
 while the priests of Baal invoked their idol in vain. They 
 were instantly put to death, as false prophets; and the 
 land was freed from its barrenness. About six years af- 
 terwards, Benhadad, the king of Assyria, laid siege to 
 the city of Samaria, and insulted Ahab with messages of 
 defiance. Ahab made a sally with a few chosen troops, 
 while Benhadad and his princes were indulging them- 
 selves at a banquet, and routed the whole Syrian army 
 with great slaughter. Benhadad returned the following 
 year, as a prophet had predicted ; but Ahab, with a very 
 inferior force, gave him battle, and gained a complete 
 victory. Benhadad surrendered hunselfto Ahab, who 
 received him very favourably, and immediately formed 
 an alliance with him, upon his engaging to restore the 
 cities which his father had taken, and to allow Ahab cer- 
 tain privileges in the city of Damascus. About a year 
 after this, Ahab was guilty of a very unjust and inhu- 
 man act, which proved fatal to himself and his whole 
 family. He was desirous to purchase the vineyard of 
 Naboth, an inhabitant of Jezreel, in order to make an 
 addition to the gardens of his palace in that city ; but 
 Naboth, in obedience to the law, refused to sell the in- 
 heritance of his fathers. Ahab was so mortified by this 
 trifling incident, that he threw himself upon his bed in 
 a fit of vexation, and refused all nourishment. Jezebel, 
 however, who had still less principle and feeling than 
 her husband, wrote letters, in his name, to the elders of 
 Jezreel, and directed them to procure, by false wit- 
 nesses, the death of Naboth, as a blasphemer and a 
 traitor. These orders were faithfully executed ; and 
 Ahab took possession of the property of Naboth. For 
 this deed of oppression, he was severely reproved by- 
 Elijah ; and threatened with the judgments of heaven 
 upon his house. But, upon expressing his sorrow and 
 contrition, the prophet was directed to declare, that 
 these evils should not take place in his days. About 
 two years afterwards, in opposition to the advice of the 
 prophet Micaiah, he went out with Jehosaphat, king of 
 Judah, to attack Ramoth Gilead, which Benhadad had re- 
 fused to deliver up to him, according to their late treaty. 
 The prophet had foretold, that he should not return in 
 safety, and Ahab therefore resolved to enter the battle 
 in disguise. He was wounded, however, by a random 
 shot from a Syrian bow ; and, having desired his chario- 
 teer to turn aside, lest his troops should be dishearten- 
 ed by the sight of his wound, he continued to face the 
 enemy, while his blood flowed upon his chariot. He ex- 
 pired in the evening of the same day, and was buried in 
 the city of Samaria, in the year before Christ 897. When 
 his chariot and horses' reins were brought to be washed 
 at the fish-pool of Samaria, the dogs licked his blood, 
 with which they were stained ; and thus fulfilled the 
 prediction of the prophet Elijah. He reigned 22 years ; 
 and exceeded all his predecessors in impiety. See 1 
 Kings, xvii.. Sec Joseph, jintiq. 1. viii. c. 7, &c. Ancient 
 Universal History, vol. 4. b. i. c. 7. (9) 
 
 AHAZ, kmg of Judah, succeeded his father Jotham; 
 and his reign was in every respect unfortunate and in- 
 glorious. He was scarcely seated on his throne, when 
 ins kingdom was invaded by the united forces of Rezm 
 kmg of Syria, and Pekah king of Isi-ael. Ahaz was 
 struck with the utmost consternation, but was encou- 
 raged by the prophet Isaiah. {Isaiah, vii.) The allied 
 princes being unable to take the city of Jerusalem, to
 
 AHA 
 
 AHI 
 
 351 
 
 ■which they had laid siege, turned their arms against 
 the city ol Elath, and some other towns, destroyed the 
 inliabitanls, plundered the country, and departed laden 
 wuli spoil. Alter the depariure ot Rezin to Damascus, 
 Ahaz attacked the king of Israel, but was deleated with 
 great slaughter. Pekah carried uH" an inmiense num- 
 ber of captives lo Samaria ; but, at the remonstrance of 
 the prophet Oded, he sent them back to Judea. The 
 foUowmg year, Rezin and Pekah again returned, and 
 laid waste the kingdom of Judah. At the same time, 
 the Edomites and Philistines made incursions into the 
 territories of Abaz. In this extremity, he had recourse 
 to the king of Assyria ; and, in order to procure his as- 
 sistance, he sent him all the gold and silver which he 
 could collect from his treasury, and from the temple. 
 Tiglath Pileser accepted his presents, and promised to 
 comply with his request; but, instead of coming to pro- 
 tect him against his enemies, he contented himself witb 
 ravaging Syria, slew khig Rezin, removed the inhabit- 
 ants of Damascus to Upper Media, and replaced them 
 with Assyrians. Ahaz went to visit him in Damascus, 
 from which he sent the model of an altar, to be used in 
 the temple at Jerusalem. He imitated all the idolatrous 
 practices of the kings of Israel, and worshipped the false 
 deities of every nation. He put a stop to the worship 
 and sacrifices in the temple, stripped it of its treasures, 
 removed its sacred utensils, and erected altars to idols 
 in every corner of Jerusalem, and in every quarter of 
 Judah. He died at the age of 36, after having reigned 
 16 years; and was buried in Jerusalem, but not in the 
 sepulchres of the kmgs, in the year before Christ 726. 
 2 Kings, xvi. 2 Cliron. xxviii. Joseph. Antiq. 1. ix. c. 1 1. 
 and 12. Ancient Universal History, \o{. 4. b. i. c. 7. Pri- 
 deaux, vol. 1. b. i. (y) 
 
 AHAZIAH, king of Israel, the son of Ahab, suc- 
 ceeded his father in the kingdom; and imitated him in 
 his idolatrous practices. In the second year of his reign, 
 the Moabites revolted against him, and refused the tri- 
 bute which they had paid to Ahab. Having received a 
 dangerous hurt by a fall from the terrace of his house, 
 he sent messengers to consult Beelzebub, the god of 
 Ekron, about his recovery. These were met by the 
 prophet Elijah, reproved for their reverence for idols, 
 and sent back to Ahaziah with the assurance, that he 
 should die of his illness. Upon receiving this intima- 
 tion, he inquired concerning the person who had sent 
 him such a message ; and, discovering that it was Eli- 
 jah, instead of reverencing the prophet, and preparing 
 for death, he gave orders to have him apprehended and 
 brought before him. Two of his officers, with 50 men 
 each, perished by fire from heaven, when attempting to 
 execute his commands. A third party was sent on the 
 same dangerous errand ; and, at the supplication of their 
 chief, Elijah agreed to accompany him into the presence 
 of Ahaziah, where he again warned him of his approach- 
 ing dissolution, and of his having been thus punished 
 for deserting the true God. The words of the prophet 
 were verified by the death of Ahaziah, after a reign of 
 two years. He died before Christ 896 ; and as he left no 
 children, he was succeeded by his brother Jehoram, or 
 Jorani. Sec 3 Kings, i. Joseph. Antiq. 1. ix. c. 1. An- 
 cient Universal History, vol. 4. b. i. c. 7. (a) 
 
 AHAZIAH, king of Judah, succeeded his father Je- 
 horam. He was the son of Athalia, daughter of Ahab, 
 and was thus the nephew of the former Ahaziah. He 
 •was the youngest, and the only child of his family, who 
 
 escaped alive, when the Arabs and Piiilistines plundered 
 the palace at Jerusalem, lie resembled, in wickedness 
 and idolatry, the family of Ahab, to which he was re- 
 lated; and, alter a short reign, he Inst his life in the fol- 
 lowing manner: — Ho had gone to Jezreel to visit Jorani 
 king of Israel, (son of Alnib, and brother of the last- 
 mentioned Ahaziah,) who had bein brought there to 
 be cureil of a wound, which he had received in the siege 
 of Ramoth Gilead. In the mean time, Jehu, one of liis 
 generals, who had been left to carry on the siege, and 
 who took the city by assault, was anointed king of Is- 
 rael by the direction of Elijah, and commissioned to ex- 
 tirpate the family of Ahab. He instantly set out for Jez- 
 reel with a party of horsemen, and was nut in the field 
 of Naboth by Joram and Ahaziah. He reproached Jo- 
 ram with the wickedness of his family, and pierced him 
 through the heart with an arrow, as he was turning to 
 avoid him. Ahaziah also, who was related to Ahab, was 
 pursued and wounded by a party of Jehu's company. 
 He reached, however, the city of Megiddo, in Samaria, 
 where he either died of his wounds, or was put to death 
 by the command of Jehu. He reigned only one year; 
 and was buried in Jerusalem, before Christ 884. See 3 
 Kings, viii. and ix. 2 Chron. xxii. Joseph. Antiq. 1. ix. c. 4. 
 and 5. .Ancient Universal History, vol. 4. b. i. c. 7. (y) 
 
 AHITOPHEL, a celebrated character in scripture. 
 He was at one time David's most intimate friend and 
 counsellor; but afterwards became his most inveterate 
 enemy ; for after Absalom had succeeded in exciting 
 a general disaffection to his father's government, Ahi- 
 tophel instantly joined him, and became the inost active 
 of all the conspirators. David was more alarmed by the 
 defection of this experienced politician, than by all the 
 thousands who crowded round the standard of rebellion; 
 and he earnestly prayed, that the Lord might turn his 
 counsel into foolishness. It was not without reason that 
 David was thus alarmed; for we find Ahitophel instantly 
 recommending the most prompt and effectual measures 
 to destroy the power and authority of his former friend. 
 The first thing he recommended was, that Absalom 
 should go in to his father's concubines, m the sight of 
 all Israel. The object of this nefarious counsel was, to 
 cut off all hopes of reconciliation between the father and 
 son, and to drive Absalom to such extremes, that, de- 
 spairing of pardon, he might execute with vigour the 
 plan he had undertaken. After carrying this point, the 
 next measure, proposed by Ahitophel, was intended to 
 be still more decisive ; he requested permission to pur- 
 sue David with twelve thousand chosen men, promising 
 confidently, that he would instantly put an end to the war, 
 by the death of the king. But, on this subject, Hushai the 
 Archite, (who had joined Absalom for the express pur- 
 pose of defeating the counsel of Ahitophel,) being asked 
 his opinion, recommended a very different mode of pro- 
 ceeding. He advised Absalom to collect all Israel, from 
 Dan to Beersheba, and thus to overwhelm the king with 
 numbers, stating, very plausibly, the danger of driving a 
 person of David's known courage to desperation. As 
 this appeared the safest plan, it was adopted in preference 
 to that of Ahitophel, who, foreseeing that this measure 
 would end in the total ruin of the conspirators, and cha- 
 grined, that his counsels, which used to be received as ■ 
 oracles, had been rejected, instantly went home, set his 
 house in order, and hanged himself. In order to ac- 
 count for the defection of Ahitophel, the Jews have a 
 story of his being the grandfather of Bathshcba ; and
 
 .)52 
 
 AJA 
 
 AJA 
 
 that it Mas to avenge her dishonour that lie took up 
 arms against his sovereign. This story rests on riO au- 
 thority, and besides is very improbable ; lor, if he was 
 the ijrandiathcr of Bathsheba, he must have been a very 
 old man at the time of Absalom's rLbellion, wliicli 
 would accord ill with the vigour of counsel and promp- 
 titude of action, which he displayed. Tne truth seems 
 to be, that he was a man without any principle but am- 
 bition; and that he hoped to enjoy a still higher degree 
 of power and authority under a weak and inexperienced 
 young man, than he did under the vigorous and saga- 
 cious policy of his father; and, having once taken his 
 measures, he saw that he could not retreat with safety. 
 This circumstance urged him on to the most desperate 
 tmdertakings. And he entertained the greater animo- 
 sity against David, as we generally hate most the per- 
 sons whom we have most offended. (,§•) 
 
 A -HEAD, an object is said to be ahead of a ship, when 
 it is placed at any distance before her stem, (w) 
 
 AHLEDEN, a bailiwick of the principality of Lune- 
 burgh Zell. It is about five miles long; and furnishes 
 great quantities of timber, which are conveyed to Bre- 
 men in floats. (7(1) 
 
 AHMEDABAD, or Amedabad, the capital of the 
 province Guzerat, in Hindostan, situated in a delightful 
 plain, watered by the river Sabermatty. It received its 
 name from Sultan Ahmed, who was king of Guzerat. 
 The city, which, witli the suburbs, is about four miles 
 and a half long, has twelve gates, and its walls are so 
 flanked with battlements and large towers, as to render 
 it one of the best fortified cities in India. The chief or- 
 naments of the town arc, the castle, which is very spa- 
 cious ; the palace ; the king's square ; the caravansary ; 
 and the English factory. Here the Hindoos have an hos- 
 pital for sick birds, and another for sick beasts. Ahmed- 
 abad rivals the first cities of Europe in size and opu- 
 lence. Its revenue is nearly ten times as great as that 
 of Surat. It was taken by the English, under Gencial 
 Goddart, in 1780 ; but vt^as restored to the Mahrattas at 
 the peace of 1783. Distance from Surat 86 coss; from 
 Delhi 224 coss; E. Long. 72° 37'. Lat. 22° 58' 3o". See 
 Mod. Univ. Hist. vol. v. p. 293; and Eraser's KuU Khan, 
 p. 29. (0) 
 
 A-HULL, a ship is said to be a-hull, when the vio- 
 lence of a tempest renders it necessary to furl all her 
 bails, and w hen, with her helm lashed to her lee-side, she 
 lies nearly with her side to the wind and sea. {in) 
 
 AHWAZ, one of the most considerable rivers of Per- 
 sia, its course being about 400 miles long. It seems to 
 be the Gyndes of Herodotus ; now called the Zeindeh, 
 according to D'Anville; and by the Turks Kari Sou, or 
 the black river. It rises among the mountains of El- 
 wend, and runs towards the south, till one branch of it 
 enters the Tigris, above its junction with the Euphrates, 
 while the main branch flows into the estuary of these 
 combined rivers, (tu) 
 
 AIAGHA Tag, the name given by the Turks, to a 
 parallel ridge of mountains in the west of Persia, ex- 
 tending to the lake of Van, and supposed to be the 
 2agres of the ancients, which separated Assyria from 
 Media. See D'Anville's Anc. Geog. ii. 463. {0) 
 
 AJ AN, the Jzania of Ptolemy, a country on the east- 
 ern coast of Africa, reaching from Magadoxa to Cape 
 Guardafui, and comprehending Adel and Magadoxa. 
 The eastern coast of Ajan is the habitation of wild 
 beasts; but, towards the north, the country produces 
 viU kinds of provisions, and an excellent breed of horses, 
 
 which foreigners purchase with silks, cottons, &cc. The 
 inhal itanls on the coast are commonly white, with long 
 hair; but they become tawny, and even black, towards 
 the nonh. (0) 
 
 AJASULUCK, the name given by the Turks to the 
 ancient city ol Ephcsus. See Ephesus. 
 
 AJAX, the son of Telamon. He was, next to Achil- 
 les, the bravest and most redoubtable cliampiou of all the 
 Greeks. We have a recapitulation of his pruicipal ex- 
 ploits in the beautiful episode of Ovid, respecting the 
 dispute about the armour of Achilles. He took it so 
 much to heart that this valuable prize was adjudged t» 
 Ulysses, that he imineuiately lost his senses. Indeed it 
 does not appear that Uiis was a quality for which he wa* 
 ever very tamous. His chief qualifications seem to have 
 been the via conniiii exfiers, and the impetuosity of ani- 
 mal courage, rather than that fortitude which is directed 
 by wisdom, and tempered by prudence. Accordingly, 
 we are informed, that he did hifinitely more mischief to 
 the Trojans alter the total derangement of his senses, 
 than when possessed of all the faculties he ever enjoyed. 
 Fortis yljax scmfier, fortistiimus tamen in furore. Apud 
 Cic. Tui. 4. He is represented as a despiser of the 
 gods ; and when his father advised him always to im- 
 plore their assistance, to second the efforts of his cou- 
 rage, he answered, that even a coward might obtain 
 victory by such means, and that he would be indepen- 
 dent of it. 
 
 — — ©f»i? (Ji.ii x«» /U)iJV at ofi^ 
 K^ccrei KctTUKTi-trcciT' . Eyo i'e >C S'ij,^» 
 Keitay, rrcTrtiiu t8t' (Vic-zs-atrav xAcc;. 
 
 Sopliocl. in Ajac. 
 
 The account given above is that which is most gene- 
 rally received, though it is inconsistent with that which 
 represents Ajax as destroying himself immediately alter 
 his unsuccessful contest with Ulysses. The story of 
 Ajax is the subject of several pieces, both on the Greek 
 and Roman stage. (§•) 
 
 AJAX, the son of ()ileus, prince of the Locrians. He 
 was one of the most celebrated of the Grecian captains 
 who went to the siege of Troy. He equipped no less 
 than forty vessels for that expedition, and signalized 
 himself on many occasions. He is one of Homer's 
 swift-footed heroes ; and Horace speaks of him in the 
 same character, cclerem arqui Jjacem. It is probable, 
 however, that the epithet rnx^h "velox, by which he is 
 usually designated by Homer, is rather intended to de- 
 note rapidity and promptitude in action, than swiftness 
 of foot. At any rate, it appears from Servius, in jEneid, 
 lib. 1. v. 41, that the velocity of Ajax was supposed to 
 lie in his hands rather than in his feet ; for he says, a 
 multis historicis Grtecis tertiam manum dicitur fioatea- 
 <jtiam habuisse ; guod idea est fctzim, quia sic celeriter 
 utebatur in Jirtelio manibus, lit tertiam habere putaretur. 
 He is said to have ravished Cassandra in the temple of 
 Minerva; on account of which outrage the goddess de- 
 stroyed his fleet with a tempest, and transfixed him with 
 a thunderbolt, on the rock to which he had escaped for 
 safety. This is the account given by Virgil about the 
 beginning of the first ./Eneid: 
 
 " Pallasne exurere classem 
 Arglvum, atque ipsos potuit submergere ponto 
 Uiiius ob noxam et farias Ajacis Oilei? 
 Ipsa Jovis ropiduin, jaculala e nubibus igTiem 
 Disjecitque rates, evertitque jeqnora ventis. 
 lUum espirantem ti'ansfixo pectore flammas 
 Tui'bine conipuit, scopuloquc infixit acuto"
 
 AIK 
 
 AIL 
 
 353 
 
 This is somewhat different from the account given by 
 Homer. Vid. Oihjss. I. 5. (g) 
 
 AJAZZO, or AjACCio,a sea-port town, situated on a 
 gulf of tlie same name, in the south-west of the island 
 of Corsica, and remarkable for the superior excellence 
 of its wines. Ajazzo is the finest cily of (Corsica; its 
 streets being straight and spacious, the houses well 
 Ijuill, and the surrounding walks agreeable. It is de- 
 fended by a citadel, l)uilt by marshal Termcs. 
 
 The fishery of black, white, and red coral, is here 
 very abundant. This polypus substance has always been 
 a great object of commerce to the people who live on 
 the shores of the Medilerranean. It is sent to Marseilles 
 and to Ciotat, where it is polished, and sent to the Afri- 
 can coast, to be exchanged for negroes. The Gulf of 
 Ajazzo affords a safe and commodious, anchorage to 
 ships of considerable burden. The town was built in 
 1435; but the ruins of the ancient town are still seen, 
 at the distance of nearly a league from the present. 
 Population, 6030. East Long. 8° 44-' 4". North Lat. 
 41"55'1". (-w) 
 
 AICHSTADT, a city of Germany, the capital of a 
 bishopric of the same name in Franconia, founded, in 
 748, by St Boniface, archbishop of Mentz. This place 
 is remarkable for a vessel of gold, called the Sun of the 
 Holy Sacramelit, of the weight of 40 marcs, encircled 
 with 350 diamonds, 1400 pearls, 250 rubies, and other 
 valuable minerals. It was presented to the cathedral 
 by the bishop of the diocese in 1611. E. Long. 1 1° 10'. 
 N. Lat. 40°. (w) 
 
 AIDERBEITZAN. See Aderbijan. 
 AIRMAN, William, an eminent Scottish portrait- 
 painter, was born on the 24th October, 1682. His father, 
 William Aikman of Cairney, Esq. advocate, intended 
 him for the Scottish bar; but the genius of the son dis- 
 covering no charms in that laborious profession, impel- 
 led him to more congenial studies. Painting, and the 
 fine arts, occupied the whole of his attention; and after 
 prosecuting these studies with ardour in his native 
 country, he went to Italy in 1707. He spent three years 
 in Rome, studying the works of the first masters, and re- 
 turned to Britain in 1712, by the way of Smyrna and 
 Constantinople. In 1732 he settled in London, as a 
 portrait-painter, under the patronage of the duke of Ar- 
 gyle, the carl of BurUngton, sir Godfrey Kneller, and 
 other eminent characters of the day. Some of his chief 
 paintings are in the possession of the duke of Devon- 
 shire, the duke of Argyle, the duke of Hamilton, Sec. 
 Mr Aikman died in London on the 7th June, O. S., 1731, 
 in the 49th year of his age. His remains, along with 
 ihose of his son, who had died about six months before, 
 were removed to Edinburgh, and interred at the same 
 time in the Gray Friars churchyard, where the follow- 
 ing epitaph, by his friend Mr Mallet, is engraven on his 
 
 tomb : 
 
 • 
 
 De.ir to tlie {food and wise, dispr.iised by none. 
 Here sleep, in peace, the father and the son ; 
 By vii'tiie, as by nature, close allied, 
 Tlie ])ainter's penius, l)ut without the pride : 
 Worth unambitious, wit afraid to si line, 
 Honour's clear liglit, and fi-iendslii])'s w arnith divine. 
 The son, fair rising", knew too short a date : 
 ^ But, oh ! how more severe the father's fate ! 
 He saw him torn untimely from his side. 
 Felt all a father's anguish — wept and died. 
 
 The celebrated Allan Ramsay, Mr Somerville, the 
 author of " The Chace," and the immortal atithor of 
 Vol.. I. Part. I. 
 
 " The Seasons," were among the companions and friends 
 of Mr. Aikman, and testified their respect for his me- 
 mory by some of the finest productions of their muse. 
 Mr Thomson's poem on the death <)FMrAikm;ui closes 
 with the following inimitable lines, full of sentiment and 
 feeling : 
 
 Oh, could I draw, my fiiend, thy genuine mind, 
 
 .lust as the living form's by thee designed, 
 
 Of Raphael's fi^^urcs none could fairer shine, 
 
 Nor Titian's colouiinc- longer last than mine. 
 
 A mind in wisdom okf, in lenience young-. 
 
 From fervent truth where every virtue sprung; 
 
 Where all was real, modest, plain, sincere, 
 
 Wortli above show, and goodness unsevei'e. 
 
 Viewed round and round, as lucid diamonds throw, 
 
 Still as you turn them, a revolving glow. 
 
 So did his mind reflect, with secret ray, 
 
 In various virtues, heaven's eternal day ; 
 
 Whether in high discourse it soared sublime. 
 
 And sprung, impatient, o'er the bounds of time. 
 
 Or wandering n.ature through, with raptured eye. 
 
 Adored the hand th.at made yon azure skv. 
 
 Whether to social life he bent his thought. 
 
 And the right poise of mingled passions sought, 
 
 (iay converse blessed, or in the thoughtful grove 
 
 Hid the heart open every source of love. 
 
 New v.ar}ing lights still set before your eyes 
 
 The just, the good, the social, or the wise. 
 
 For such a death, who can, who viill refuse 
 
 The friend a tear, a verse the mournful muse ! 
 
 Vet pay we must acknowledgment to heaven. 
 
 Though snatched so soon, that Aikman e'er was giveii. 
 
 A friend, when dead, is but removed from sight. 
 
 Sunk hi the lustre of eternal liglit ; 
 
 And when the parting storms of lite are o'er. 
 
 May yet rejoin us on a hajipier shore. 
 
 As those we love decay, we die in part ; 
 
 Siring after string, is severed from the heart, 
 
 Till loosened life, at last but breathing clay, 
 
 Without one pang- is glad to tall away. 
 
 Unhappy he who latest feels the blow. 
 
 Whose eyes have wej^t o'er e\'ery friend laid low ; 
 
 Dragged lingering on from partial death to death. 
 
 Till, dying, all he can resign is breath. 
 
 Mr Aikman's style of painting was characterized by 
 the most pleasing simplicity, by soft lights, mellow 
 shades, and mild and harnioiiious colouring. His por- 
 traits do not possess the force or the harshness of Ru- 
 bens, nor are they, like those of sir J. Reynolds, adorned 
 with adventitious ornaments. They have a greater re- 
 semblance to the portraits of KncUer than to those of 
 any other artist, (o) 
 
 AILSA, a stupendous insulated rock on the western 
 coast of Scotland, between the shores of Ayrshire and 
 Cantyre. It is estimated to be two miles in circumfe- 
 rence at the base, and about nine hundred and forty feet 
 above the level of the sea. Its shape is somewliat coni- 
 cal, and it is very precipitous on all sides ; the only 
 landing place being on the north-east, where there is a 
 small beach, formed by the fragments which have fallen 
 from the neighbouring rocks. The cliffs are in several 
 places distinctly columnar; and the whole isle appears 
 to be composed of rocks belonging to the newest floetz 
 trap formation, the individual members of which resem- 
 ble those that occur in the interesting island of Arran. 
 It is inhabited by numberless flocks of birds, particularly 
 gannets, or solan geese (Pelicanus Basnanus, Lum.), 
 whose young are sometimes used at table ; other birds 
 are caught for their feathers. The rock is rented from 
 the earl of Cassilis at 33/. yearly. See Pennant's Tour; 
 Jameson's iMineralogy o/l/ie Scottish Isies, vol, 1 . p. 9. (r) 
 Y y
 
 354 
 
 AIR 
 
 AIS 
 
 AIMUR, one of the grand divisions of Hindostan, ac- 
 cording to the Ayccii Akbcrry, possessed by Scindiah 
 and the Maliiatlas, and containing seven cii'cars or coun- 
 ties. It lias a revenue ol 71,979/. sterling, and can bring 
 to the field 547,000 'ufantry, and 86,500 cavalry, (ro) 
 
 AIN, one of the departments of France, which takes 
 its name from the river Ain, that traverses it from north 
 to south. This river rises in mount Jura, and after a 
 course of 35 leagues, discharges itself into the Rhone, 
 about five leagues above Lyons. This department is 
 formed out of the provinces of Bresse, liugey, and a 
 part of the country of Gcx. Its surface is about 287 
 square leagues, or 5675 square kilionietrcs; its popula- 
 tion 284,455 ; and its contribution in the year 11, 1,757,343 
 francs. It is bounded on the north by the department 
 of the Saone and Loire, and by that of Jura; on the west, 
 by the department of Saone and Loiie, and that of the 
 Rhone; on the south, by the department of Iserc; and 
 on the cast, by the department of Mont Blanc and Lc- 
 man. Its chief towns are Bourg, Belley, Nantua, Tre- 
 Toux ; of which Bourg is the capital of the department. 
 The north-east portion of the department exhibits no- 
 thing but naked rocks and barren mountains, stunted 
 woods and stagnant pools without number. The north- 
 west is more fertile, and produces grain sufficient for 
 the support of the inhabitants, (to) 
 
 AIXSWORTH, Robert, a learned grammarian and 
 antiquary, was born at Neodyale, near Manchester, in 
 1660. He received his education at Bolton in Lancashire, 
 where he afterwards exercised the profession of a 
 schoolmaster. From this place he removed to Bethnal 
 fJrcen, where he employed himself in the education of 
 youth, and published his "Short Treatise of Grammati- 
 cal Institution." . After acquiring a decent competency, 
 he relired from the labours of teaching, and employed 
 himself in searching for old coins, and other remnants of 
 antiquity. In 1714, he began his "Dictionary of the 
 Latin Language ;" which, after many harassing inter- 
 ruptions, he published in 1736, in two volumes 4to. This 
 work is now in general use ; and, with the improvements 
 of Patrick, Ward, Young, and Morell, it is esteemed the 
 most complete dictionary of the Latin language. 
 
 We arc informed, upon good authority, that when 
 !Mr Ainsworth was engaged in his laborious work, his 
 wife made heavy complaints at enjoying so little of his 
 society. When he had reached the letter S of his dic- 
 tionary, the patience of his female friend was complete- 
 ly exhausted ; and in a fit of ill nature, she revenged 
 herself for the loss of his company, by committing the 
 whole manuscript to the flames. Such an accident 
 ^vould have deterred most men from prosecuting the 
 undertaking ; but the persevering industry of Ains- 
 worth repaired the loss of his manuscript, by the most 
 assiduous application. He died at London in 1743, and 
 was interred at Poplar, where his tombstone exhibits 
 the following inscription, written by himself; from 
 which he seems to have forgi\ en the impetuosity of his 
 wife : 
 
 Kob. Ainswortli, et uxor ejus, adinodum senes, 
 Unrmituri vestem detritam hie exuerunt, 
 Nov.im, piimo munc surgentes, iiiduturi- 
 Dum fus, mortalis, sapias, et respice finem 
 Hoc suadent manes, hoc cunct Amramides. (o) 
 
 AIR, is the fine, expansive, transparent fluid which we 
 breathe. It constitutes the vast mass of atmosphere 
 that encompasses our globe. 
 
 Air, or «>)f, was reckoned one of the tour elements, 
 and formed the connecting medium between fire and 
 water. By one of the ancient philosophers, it was held 
 to be the principle of all thh.gs. An, as opposed to 
 ether, was referred by the ancients lo the lower and 
 grosser portions of our atmosphere, the receptacle of all 
 sorts of exhalations, and the proper region ol clouds and 
 vapours. 
 
 But air is not the only diffusible elastic fluid. The 
 diligence of modern experimenters has detected a variety 
 of other analogous fluids, which come under the general 
 description of gas. These researches, vigorously pros- 
 ecuted for upwards of half a century past, have led to 
 discoveries the most brilliant and important in chemical 
 science. 
 
 Air performs a capital part in the economy of nature. 
 It is tlie vehicle of sound, of smell, and even of heat; it 
 exhales moisture from the land and the ocean; and, 
 mingling its contrasted currents in the higher regions, it 
 again precipitates its watery stores in the form of rain or 
 dew, or hail or snow. By the activity, the character, 
 and extent of its motions, it tempers the imequal energy 
 of the solar beams, and diffuses a more uniform warmth 
 over the surface of our globe ; it not only supplies the 
 breath of life, but supports inflammation, and contributes 
 essentially to the germination and growth of plants; 
 and, presenting the more elevated portions of atmos- 
 phere to the illumination of the sun's rays, it scatters 
 these by repeated, though enfeebling reflexions, along 
 the concave of heaven ; and thus prolongs the cheering 
 influence of light, and prevents the inhabitants of this 
 earth from being ever left in total darkness. See At- 
 mosphere, Climate, Gas, Meteorology, and Pneu- 
 matics, (y) 
 
 AIR, in music, is strictly speaking, a composition 
 written for a single voice, and applied to words ; though 
 it is sometimes employed to signify any melody, the pas- 
 sages of which are so constructed as to lie within the 
 province of vocal expression, or which, when sung or 
 played, forms that connected chain of sounds, which we 
 call a tunc. See Busby's Mus. Diet, (o) 
 
 AIR Balloox. See Aeronautics. 
 
 AIR Bladder. See Ichthyology, and Ornitho- 
 logy. 
 
 AIR Gun. See Pneumatics. 
 
 AIR Lamp. See Pneumatics. 
 
 AIR Pipes. Sec Ventilation. 
 
 AIR Pump. See Pneumatics. 
 
 AIR Shafts. See Mining. 
 
 AIR Trunk. See Ventilation. 
 
 AIR Vane. See Anemoscope. 
 
 AIRA, a genus of plants belonging to the class Tri- 
 andria, and order Digynia. See Botany, (to) 
 
 AIRE, a town in France, in the department of Landes, 
 It was the Vicus Julii of the Romans ; and was taken 
 from them by thi Visigoths, who adorned it, and forti- 
 fied it with a castle. Population 2999. E. Long. 5° 26'. 
 N. Lat. 43° 4r52". (to) 
 
 AISNE, a department in the north of France, form- 
 ed out of the old provinces of Soissonois and Laon- 
 nois. It derives its name from the river Aisne, which 
 is navigable through the whole department. This 
 river rises'in Champagne, and, passing Soissons, fells 
 into the Oise above Compiegre. The department 
 is bounded on the north by the departments of the 
 North and of Jemmapcs ; on the east, by those of the 
 Marne and Ardennes ; on the south, by those of the
 
 AIT 
 
 AIX 
 
 355 
 
 Seine and Marnc ; and on the west, l)y (he depart- 
 ment of the Oise. It contains the to'iMis of Laon, St 
 Qucntin, Soissons, Chateau-Thierry, and Vervins, l^aou 
 being the capital. This department is intersected by 
 several canals, the chief of which are, the ijrand siil)- 
 terranoan canal, which commences at St Qucntin ; 
 the canal of Crozat, which extends from St Quonliu 
 to Chauny ; the canal of Ourcq, which is recently open- 
 ed for the purpose of conveying to Paris wood for 
 fuel from the forest of Villers-Cotterels. The forests 
 extend over a space of one hundred and eleven thou- 
 sand hectares. In the middle of the forest of St Go- 
 bin are situated the glass-works, in which is made 
 the glass which goes by that name. The extent of the 
 department is three hundred and seventy-six square 
 leagues, or seven thousand four hundred and twenty- 
 two square kiliometres. Its population 439,628 ; its 
 contributions, in 1803, 4,651,498 francs; and the pro- 
 ductions of the soil, corn, fruits, cider, wood, and cat- 
 tle, (o) 
 
 AISTULPH, or Aistulfhus, king of the Lombards, 
 who succeeded to the throne A. D. 751. Though at 
 peace with pope Stephen, he led his forces against the 
 exarchate of Ravenna, which he subdued and added to 
 the kingdom of the Lombards. He then proceeded 
 against the Roman dukedom, and, with his army at the 
 gates of Rome, he threatened destruction to the city and 
 to its inhabitants, unless his sovereignty was acknow- 
 ledged, and an annual tribute allowed him. Alarmed 
 at this unexpected assault, the pope begged assistance 
 from Pepin, king of France, who sent an army into Italy, 
 routed Aistulph, and invested Pavia, where the Lombard 
 king had fled for shelter. Aistulph was thus compel- 
 led to sue for a humiliating peace, by which he restored 
 the exarchate to the Roman pontiff. As soon as the 
 French army had quilted Italy, Aistulph, in violation of 
 the treaty, again besieged Rome. The assistance of 
 Pepin was a second time obtained ; and the French army, 
 with its former success, pursued Aistulph, and reduced 
 him to the necessity of again suing for peace, within the 
 walls of Pavia. The proud and restless spirit of the 
 Lombard king, however, was not to be subdued by mis- 
 fortunes. He seized the first opportunity of preparing 
 for hostilities ; but, in the midst of his plans, he was kill- 
 ed when hunting, A. D. 756. See Ancie?;! Univ. Hist. 
 vol. xvii. p. 482. (o) 
 
 AITON, William, eminent for his skill in botany 
 and horticulture, was born in Scotland, in 1731, at a small 
 village near Hamilton. At the age of 23, he went to 
 England, and was employed as the assistant of Mr P. 
 Miller, the author of the Gardener's Dictionary, who 
 then superintended the physic garden at Chelsea. He 
 continued in this situation for nearly five years, till, in 
 1759, he was appointed to the management of the bota- 
 nical garden at Kew, where the fine collection of curious 
 plants afforded ample scope for the exercise of his abili- 
 ties. His assiduity and zeal, in this situation, was re- 
 warded, in 1783, by the additional and lucrative office of 
 managing the pleasure and kitchen gardens at Kew. In 
 1789, Mr Alton published a "Catalogue of the Plants 
 cultivated in the Botanic Garden at Kew," under the title 
 of Hortus Ketuensis, in 3 vols. 8vo. with 13 plates, a 
 work on which he laboured for many years, and which 
 contains between five and six thousand species. Mr 
 Alton died of a scirrhous liver, in 1793, in the sixty- 
 second year of his age ; and left behind Kim a charac- 
 ter distinguished by every social and domestic virtue, (o) 
 
 AITONIA, a name taken from the subject of the pre- 
 ceding article, to denote a genus of ])lanls belonging to 
 the class Monadelpliia, and order (Jctandria. See lio- 
 TANV. (w) 
 
 AJUGA, a genus of plants belonging to the class 
 Didynamia, and order Gynniospermia. Sec Botany, (w) 
 
 AlUS LoquENS, or Locurus, or ii/icak-iiit; Voice, u 
 Roman deity, to whom a temjjlc was erected at Rome. 
 A supernatural voice was one evening heard near the 
 temple of Vesla, warning the Romans, that the Gauls 
 were approaching. The Romans having suffered from 
 neglecting this celestial intimation, Camillus advised 
 them to expiate their guilt, by erecting a temple in ho- 
 hour of this invisible deity. See Plutarch, In Camill. 
 Livij, lib. v. cap. 50. (rj) 
 
 AJUTAGE, is generally synonymous with the aper- 
 ture through which water issues from a vessel ; though 
 it is most frecjuently employed to signify a small piece of 
 metal, through which jet d' eaux are projected. See 
 Hydrodynamics, (w) 
 
 AIX, in geography, a city of France, and capital of the 
 department of the Bouches du Rhone, formerly Provence. 
 This is one of the most ancient cities in France. It was 
 the first place which the Romans occupied as a settle- 
 ment in that country ; and C. Sextus Calvinus, the con- 
 sul, is reported to have established a colony here, as 
 early as the year 124 A. C. or 630 years after the build- 
 ing of Rome. From him, and from its medicinal springs, 
 the town was called Aqua; Sextia:. But, notwithstand- 
 ing the antiquity of Aix, it is not distinguished by any 
 conspicuous remains of former times. The ancient 
 baths were discovered A. D. 1704; and several altar'; 
 have been found in their vicinity, with inscriptions to 
 the god Priapus, from whose peculiar and auspicious 
 influence the waters were supposed to derive their re- 
 storative qualities. The modern city is rather populous 
 than large ; but its streets are elegant, and its public 
 buildings handsome and spacious. Of these last, the 
 town-hall, the hall of audience, the cathedral church, the 
 church of the fathers of the oratory, and the chapel 
 of the blue penitents, are most deserving of notice. In 
 the chiuxh belonging to the convent of the preachers, 
 there is a silver statue of the Virgin Mary, nearly 
 as large as life! Another remarkable place within 
 the city is the corse, or orbitellc, a walk 160 yards in 
 length, surrounded with trees, and interspersed with 
 fountains. 
 
 The chief trade of Aix consists in oil ; but this trade 
 has been much diminished since the year 1788, owing 
 to the destruction of the olive-trees, from the fruit of 
 which the oil is extracted. Population 23,686, exclusive 
 of the two cantons. It is 163 leagues distant from Paris, 
 and five from Marseilles. E. Long. 5° 26' 48". N. Lat. 
 43" 31' 47". (A) 
 
 AIX-LA-CHAPELLE, {Urhs Ai/uensis, or A</iiis- 
 granum,') a free and imperial city of Germany, in the 
 circle of Westphalia, and dutchy of Juliers, and capi- 
 tal of the department of Roer. It is distinguished 
 from Aix, the chief city of Provence, by the addition 
 which appears at the end of its name, and which 
 was derived from a chapel raised in this place by Charle- 
 magne, and dedicated by the same monarch to the 
 holy Virgin. The latitude of Aix-la-Chapelle is 51° 53' 
 north, and its longitude 5" 54' east. Its population is 
 estimated by Tinseau at 23,412 souls. (Statist. View of 
 France.^ 
 
 The city is very ancient. It was the usual residence 
 y y2
 
 356 
 
 AIX 
 
 AKB 
 
 of the emperor Cliarlcmagnc, who repaired and beauti- 
 fied it, after it had been destroyed by the Jiiuis, under 
 Attila their leader, A. D. 451. It was here loo, that 
 the king of the Romans was generally crowned ; and 
 this city is still llie depository of the sword of Charle- 
 magne, the bell, the book of the gospels, and the jewels 
 of the empire, all of which are used at the ceremony of 
 coronation. While the Germanic coiisHtution existed, 
 Aix-Ia-Chapelle occupied the seconci place on the Rhe- 
 nish bencli, among the imperial cities which had a seat 
 and a voice in the diets of the circle of Westphalia; and 
 it held the same place in the college oltne cities of the 
 einpire. The town stands in a valiey, but is not un- 
 wholesome. It properly consists of two towns, one en- 
 circling the other ; of thtse, the inner, which is the 
 most ancient, is flanked by ten towers, and is above two 
 miles in circumference ; while tUe outer, which was built 
 A. D. 1172, extends in circuit about two leagues. This 
 city is refreshed by 20 fountains, and watered by many 
 rivulets which run through it. The principal buildings 
 are the stadthouse and the cathedral. Aix-la-Chapelle 
 is not unknown in the history of Europe. In the 9th and 
 10th centuries, councils were held in this city, with a 
 view to settle religious disputes, and determine the 
 Catholic faith ; and here, likewise, rival nations, and con- 
 tending powers, wearied with warfare, have met, and 
 agreed upon articles of pacification. A treaty was con- 
 cluded at this place, A. D. 1668, between France and 
 Spain; and another between France, England, and the 
 Allies, in 1748. Busching, vol. iv. p. 56 J. Mud. Un. 
 Hist. vol. xxxii. p. 223. 
 
 But the sulphureous waters of this city {Thtrtme 
 Acjuisgrancnses) have contributed most to its celebrity 
 and opulence. Their reputation was high in the time 
 of Charlemagne ; and they have since attracted a great 
 concourse of people, who resort to their vlciiiity, and 
 often experience their salutary efiects. The water rises 
 with great quickness from the springs, and sends forth 
 bubbles of air, which explode with a slight noise, when 
 they reach the surface. It emits also a large portion of 
 steam, on account of the iinmensc quantity of sulphuret- 
 ted hydrogen gas, wliich the fluid contains; and it dif- 
 fuses, at the same time, a smell, which is perceptible at 
 a great distance. This smell resembles that of the 
 Harrowgate water. The principal spring is enclosed 
 in a cistern of stone, which is vaulted, and almost coni- 
 cal at the top ; and the parts of which are cemented with 
 the utmost care, in order to prevent the v'apour from es- 
 caping. On the surface of the stones, a large portion of 
 uncombined sulphur is to be fovmd, which settles there 
 by a natiu'al process of sublimation. It is removed from 
 time to time, and sold under the name of Aix n2ilfihur. 
 The temperature of the water varies from 112° to 143° 
 of Fahrenheit ; that of the vapour does not appear to 
 have been ascertained, The baths are so constructed, 
 that either the whole body, or a part of it, may be ex- 
 posed to the stream. The water is generally drunk at 
 the temperature of 112° ; for, when it is allowed to cool, 
 it becomes thick and milky, depositing a calcareous se- 
 diment, and parting with a considerable portion of its 
 sulphuretted hydrogen gas. It is soft, and some- 
 what saponaceous to the touch, owing probably to tl.e 
 quantity of carbonate of soda, which it holds in solu- 
 tion. 
 
 The chemical ingredients of the water are either 
 elastic or solid. Of the former, the principal is sulphu- 
 retted hydrogen gas ; and in these springs it is not 
 
 found in the state, in which it exists in the sulphurcouii 
 waters of Great Britain, whose tempeiatuie is low; but 
 is very highly saturated with sulphur, which, as we 
 have already mentioned, is deposited when the vapour 
 has risen to the top of the cistern, and experienced a 
 diminution of its heat. When a portion of the water 
 has been evaporated to dryness, the whole of the sulphur 
 disappears, for no traces of it can be discovered in the 
 residuum. Besides the sulphuretted hydrogen gas, the 
 water likewise contains a small quantity of carbonic acid 
 in the elastic state. The solid ingredients of these 
 waters are carbonate of soda, muriate of soda, and car- 
 bonate of lime ; and, from the analysis of Bergman, we 
 reckon, that they are present in nearly the following 
 proportions : — A wine pint (English weight and mea- 
 sure,) contains 
 
 Of carbonate of lime, 4| grains 
 Of muriate of soda, 5 do. 
 Of carbonate of soda, 12 do. 
 
 The proportion of the gaseous ingredients has not been 
 ascertained with sufficient accuracy. 
 
 From this analysis, we may explain the phenomena, 
 which take place when the water is subjected to the 
 common re-agents. A piece of lead, suspended in the 
 vapour is blackened in a few days, and corroded through- 
 out, from the union of the compound gas with the 
 metal. Solutions of lead, or silver, added to the water, 
 when hot and fresh, produce a blackish precipitate from 
 the same cause, though the effect may depend likewise 
 on the presence of the muriate and the high tempera- 
 ture ; as the precipitate is white, if the solutions be 
 added to the water when it is cold. Syrup of violets is 
 changed to a green, owing to the action of the gas, 
 which, it is affirmed, gives rise to this change ; (Mur- 
 ray's Chemistry, vol. ii. p. 443.) or the alterations of the 
 colour may be produced by the alkaline carbonate. The 
 same change takes place when the carbonate of lime 
 has been precipitated by cooling. 
 
 The water is used internally as a gentle stimulant and 
 corroborant, and also as a diuretic. It is found to be 
 sei-viceable in morbid affections of the chylopoetic 
 viscera; and it is highly useful in disorders of the kid- 
 nevs and bladder. It is likewise employed externally in 
 cases of paralysis, gout, and rheumatism. See Bergman's 
 Physical and Chemical Essays, vol. i. p. 285. Blondel. 
 Dcscrifi. Therm. Ac/uisgranens. Lucas on Aliiieral 
 IVaters. Saunders on Mineral Waters. Ash's Exfieri- 
 ments and Obserx'ations on the Mineral IVaters of Sfia 
 and Aix-la-Chap lie. Dr Rutty's Methodical Synopsis of 
 Mineral Waters, p. 625. 4to. (A) 
 
 AIZOON, a genus of plants belonging to the class 
 Icosandria, and order Pentagynia. See Botany, (to) 
 
 AKBAH, a celebrated Saracen conqueror, who over- 
 ran the whole of Africa, from Cairo to the Atlantic Ocean. 
 At the head of ten thousand of the bravest Arabs, he 
 marched from Damascus, and gradually increased his 
 army by numbers of the barbarians, whom he had con- 
 quered and converted. Amid the fictions of oriental 
 writers, it is not easy to follow Akbah through the line 
 of his victories. We know merely that he penetrated 
 with dauntless intrepidity the very heart of the country, 
 and after traversing the wilderness, where his succes- 
 sors erected the capitals of Fez and Morocco, that he 
 carried his arms to the Western Ocean. Distressed at 
 this limitation which nature had set to his brilliant ca- 
 reer, he spurred his horse into the ocean, and exclaimed,
 
 AKB 
 
 AKE 
 
 357 
 
 "Great God 1 if iny course ^vcrc not terminated by this 
 sea, 1 would still udvancc to the unknown regions ot tiic 
 West, preaching the unity of tliy lioly name, and putluig 
 to the sword the reLielliuus nations tiiat worslup any 
 other God than thee." A general revolt among llie 
 Greeks and Africans recalled liim i'roni tin; West, and 
 proved the means of his cleslruciion. The insurgents 
 trusted to the revenge of an ambitious chiel, who had 
 disputed the command, and having tailed in his designs 
 was led about as a prisoner in the camp of Akbah. lie 
 revealed tlieir design, however, to the Arabian general, 
 who, under the impulse ot gratitude, unloosed his tetters, 
 and gave him leave to retire. The generous chief chose 
 rather to die with his benefactor, and having embraced 
 each other as fellow martyrs, and broken to pieces their 
 scabbards, they fell by each other's side, after a glorious 
 conflict with the insurgents. 
 
 Akbah proposed to establish an Arabian colony in the 
 interior ot Atrica, in order to check tlie barbarians, and 
 secure a place of refuge to the families of the Saracens. 
 He accordingly foimded Cairoan, under the title of a 
 Caravan Station, in the 50tli year of the Hegira. He en- 
 compassed an area 12000 paces in diameter, with a brick 
 wall, and in five years the palace of the governor was 
 encircled with a number of private dwellings ; and a 
 splendid mosque was erected upon five hundred columns 
 of granite, porphyry, and Numidiaii marble. See Ock- 
 ley's Hint, of the Huracens, vol. ii. p. 129. Leo ylfri:anus, 
 fol. 75. Shaw's Travels, p. 115. Marmol, Desaiptioji de 
 I'Afriijue, torn. iii. p. 33. and Gibbon's Hist. vol. ix. p. 
 407, 12mo. chap. 51. (ro) 
 
 AKUAR, or Ekb.\r, Sult.vn, one of the Mogul em- 
 perors, was born in 1542, and succeeded to the throne of 
 his fatlier in 1556. After quelling several insurrections, 
 which marked the beginning of his reign, he completed 
 the castle of Agra, at the expense of 2,000,500 rupees, 
 expended one million and a half on the palace and walls 
 of Fettipur, and began to erect the sumptuous sepul- 
 chres of his family at Schandar. Ambitious views now 
 began to agitate his mind ; the conquest of Bengal be- 
 came a favourite object, which he soon cfl'cctcd after re- 
 ducing the city of Patau. The countries of Kabul, Kan- 
 dahar, Kashmir, and Sindi, were next added to his 
 empire ; and, alter a vigorous resistance, several provin- 
 ces of the kingdom of Dekan submitted to his sway. 
 When engaged in the Dekan war, a succession of do- 
 mestic misfortunes interrupted his ambitious career. 
 Two of his sons were cut oil by intemperance ; and his 
 son Selim, takii-.g advantage of his absence, s>.ized the 
 treasures of Agra, and marched with a numerous army 
 to seat himself upon his father's throne. When the 
 emperor received intelligence of this unnatural attempt 
 of his son, he hastened to his capital, and, with all the 
 tender remonstrances of an afl'ectionate parent, laboured 
 to soften the heart of the young rebel. After many un- 
 successful attempts, he at last effected a reconciliation, 
 which, however, he was not destined long to survive. 
 Being enraged at Mirza, a governor of one of his pro- 
 vinces, he resolved to poison him ; and for this purpose, 
 procured two pills of opium ; one of v/hich containing 
 poison, was intended for the governor. This poisoned 
 pill, however, was by mistake reserved for himself; and 
 brought him to the grave in the year 1505, at the age 
 of 63. 
 
 Akbar, with the assistance of his enlightened minister 
 Abul Fazl, made the deepest inquiries into the religion, 
 laws, and institutions, of the Hindoos, who formed the 
 
 great body of his subjects. By the most assiduous re- 
 search, they were enabled to favour the world with a 
 compenditun ol Hindoo jurisprudence, in the Ayeen Ak- 
 berry. See Eraser's nint. A'adir S/ta/i, p. 11. Mod. 
 Umvcrs. Hint. vol. v. p. 365. (o) 
 
 AKENSIUE, MAUi:,who has been styled the British 
 Lucretius, was boi'n at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, ontlie 9th 
 day of November 1721. His father, a-subslantial butcher 
 in that town, was a presbyterian dissenter ; and seems 
 to have destined his son for the clerical oflice before he 
 himself could form any idea of its importance, or give 
 any indication of those talents and dispositions, without 
 which a clergyman cannot reasonably hope to be either 
 useful or respectable. The capacity and fondness for 
 learning whicli \oung Akenside displayed when sent to 
 school, confirme<l his father's resolution, and warranted 
 the most sanguine hopes which he could entertain of the 
 future eminence of his son. From the grammar-school 
 of Newcastle, he was removed to the private academy of 
 Mr Wilson, a dissenting clergyman ; whose admiration 
 he excited by his rapid progress in classical literature, 
 and by the striking marks of genius which distinguished 
 his exercises. At the age of 18, he went to the univer- 
 sity of Edinburgh ; and continued for a year to pursue 
 that course of study which was necessary to qualify him 
 for the oflice of a presbyterian minister. He had de- 
 rived some assistance from a fund appropi iated by the 
 English dissenters to the education of their young men 
 of scanty fortune, who study divinity. But the perplexed 
 and thorny mazes of theological controversy were trod- 
 den by Akenside with extreme reluctance ; and he 
 turned from them in disgust, to range unconfined in the 
 fields of elegant literature, v/here p:iths more ample and 
 inviting were laid open to his ambition. As he posses- 
 sed not the means of indulging in these favourite pur- 
 suits, without following some profession, he now re- 
 solved to study physic ; and, with tlie most honourable 
 integrity refunded that contribution, which, as it was 
 given for a dilierent purpose, he could not conscien- 
 tiously retain. 
 
 " Whether, when he resolved not to be a dissenting 
 minister, he ceased to be a dissenter," it is surely un- 
 necessary to inquire. It is of more- importance to know 
 tliat he did not cease to be a Christian ; and that he re- 
 linquished none of those liberal and exalted principles, 
 which are generally cherished with enthusiasm by youth- 
 ful genius, and from which it derives its brightest lustre. 
 An ardent and rnanly zeal for civil and religious liberty 
 influenced him through life, and breaks forth in his 
 writings with inspiring energy. 'We envy not the mind 
 which couid turn from the page that glows with such 
 sentiments, to remark, with illiberal and far-misplaced 
 sagacity, that this zeal for liberty "■ sometimes disguises 
 from the world, and not rarely from the mind wliich it 
 possesses, an envious desire of plundering wealth, and 
 degrading greatness; and of which the immediate ten- 
 dency is innovation and anarchy, an impetuous eager- 
 ness to subvert and confound, with very little care what 
 shall be established." Let the admirers of our consti- 
 tution determine, whether it is more in danger from him 
 whose breast is fired with a generous passion for liberty, 
 who is feelingly alive to the privileges of freemen, and 
 prompt to resent any attempt to invade them ; — or from 
 the wretch, who, with a cowardly dread of innovation, 
 and servile reverence for the great, would patiently en- 
 dure to see the sceptre converted into a rod of iron, and 
 bov/ his neck to the yoke, however oppressive, v.hich
 
 258 
 
 AKENSIDE. 
 
 blioukl 1)0 imposed by ihc sacrctl Land of power. So 
 little is the genuine love ol" tVccdoni allied to the spirit 
 of levelling or discontent, that, in a country blessed with 
 such a constitution as ours, its natural tendency is to 
 lieightcn our gratitude for the advantages which we en- 
 joy, and make us bold in their defence ; to strengthen 
 our loyalty by the aid of principle ; and to inspire us 
 with the noblest and most ardent patriotism. 
 
 Akcnside, while he continued at Edinburgh, culti- 
 vated his poetical talents with great assiduity. It was 
 there that he composed his Ode on the Winter Hohtice ; 
 and his greatest work. The Pleasures of Imagination, was 
 probably completed about the same time ; though it has 
 been said that it was written at Morpeth, on the banks 
 of the Wcntsbcck, while he was on a visit to his rela- 
 tions, before he went to the university of Editjburgh. 
 His talents procured huu an easy introduction into the 
 most respectable literary associations among his fellow- 
 students ; and, in the year 1740, he was elected a mem- 
 ber of the Medical Society ; " an institution," says l)r 
 Anderson, " coeval with the establishment of a regular 
 school of physic in the university. 
 
 After remaining three years at Edinburgh, he went 
 to complete his medical studies at Lcyden, where Mr 
 Dyson was at the same time engaged in the study of 
 civil law. With this gentleman Akenside contracted a 
 friendship which was of the most essential service to 
 him through the remainder of life. When he had pass- 
 ed three years at that celebrated university, he took the 
 degree of Doctor in Medicine ; and as it was necessary 
 to publish an inaugural dissertation, he chose for his 
 subject, De ortu et incrementofatns /luniani. In this trea- 
 tise he displayed much ingenuity, hi refuting the opinions 
 of Lewenhoek, which then generally prevailed; and in 
 proposing an hypothesis, which has since been adopted 
 bv the most eminent physicians. 
 
 After having graduated, he returned to England with 
 Mr Dyson, and, during the same year, published IVie 
 Pleasures of Imagination ; a work which raised him very 
 high in the estimation of men of taste and learning. 
 Akenside himself seems to have been conscious of its 
 value ; for he demanded for the copyright a price which 
 was then accounted high, and which was seldom given 
 for a work of that nature, particularly from an author 
 yet unknown to fame. Dodsley, to whom he offered it, 
 being inclined to hesitate on his demand, carried the 
 poem to Pope, who, having looked into it, advised him 
 not to make a niggardly offer, for " this was no every- 
 day poet." A note in the third book, in which the au- 
 thor adopts Shaftesbury's assertion of the efficacy of ridi- 
 cule as a test of truth, excited the displeasure of War- 
 burton, who, in a preface to one of his publications, at- 
 tacked him with great severity ; not, however, as a poet, 
 but as a philosopher. Mr Dyson, in defence of his friend, 
 wrote an anonymous " Epistle to Mr W^aiburton, occa- 
 sioned by his treatment of the Author of the Pleasures 
 of Invagination ; but Warburton's strictures were after- 
 wards reprinted, without any notice of what had been 
 said in Akensidc's defence. 
 
 Soon after the publication of this poem, he wrote a 
 very spirited Epistle to Pulteney, who had recently de- 
 serted the cause of independence, which he had vindicated 
 with such ability while out of place, and who was there- 
 fore justly stigmatized by our author under the name of 
 Curio, as the betrayer of his country. This Epistle, 
 which is distinguished by the most vigorous and poign- 
 
 ant satire, he afterwaids transformctl into a very pal 
 try Ode. 
 
 lie was now to live by his profession ; and, with that 
 view, fixed his residence at Northampton, where Di- 
 Stonehouse then practised with such success and repu- 
 tation, as to defy all competition. Akenside tried the 
 contest for a while, but finding it in \ ain, he removed to 
 Hampstead, where he resided more than two years, sup- 
 ported chieily by the generosity of Mr Dyson. At Hamp- 
 stead he had the fairest prospects of success. His re- 
 pulation had gone before him ; and his generous patron 
 took every method of bringing him forward into notice. 
 He not only introduced him to the long-room, and t« 
 every place of public resort, but recommended him, hi 
 the strongest terms, as a physician, to all the inhabit- 
 ants with whom he could take such liberty. But the im- 
 prudence and vanity of .\kcnside counteraoted all his 
 friend's exertions. He had conceived such a lofty idea 
 of his own talents and acquirements, that he affected to 
 disdain all ordinary men as beings of a lower rank in 
 the scale of intelligence. la the clubs and assemblies 
 which he frequented, he perpetually involved himself in 
 disputes ; and expected such unreasonable deference to 
 his assertions or arguments, that though he frecjuently 
 took the wrong side for the purpose of displaying his 
 abilities, he treated with the most contemptuous rude- 
 ness all who dared to contradict him. His insolence 
 naturally created many enemies. They discovered that 
 he was a man of low birth, and a dependent ; — and, as 
 they scrupled not to reproach him with these circum- 
 stances, he was reduced to the necessity of asserting 
 that he was a gentleman. After matters had proceeded 
 to this extremity, he could not expect' to succeed in 
 practice at Hampstead, or to reside there with any com- 
 fort. Mr Dyson, therefore, parted with his villa at 
 North-End, settled his friend in a small house in Blooms- 
 bury Square, and, with a generosity that has few exam- 
 ples, assigned him 300/. a-year, to enable him to make 
 a proper appearance in the world. — "A physician in a 
 great city," says Dr Johnson, " seems to be the mere 
 plaything of Fortune ; his degree of reputation is, for 
 the most part, totally casual ; they that employ \\\m. 
 know not his excellence ; they that reject him know- 
 not his deficience." — Akenside was known in London 
 as a poet, and gradually advanced in medical reputation ; 
 but never attained much popularity, or any great extent 
 of practice. His pride, his insolence, and impatience 
 of opposition, exposed him to general disrike, and drew 
 him sometimes into very awkward and disagreeable situ- 
 ations. In the winter evenings, he frequented Tom's 
 Coffee-house in Devereux Court, at that time the resort 
 of men of learning and ingenuity, with some of whom 
 he became entangled in disputes and altercations, chiefly 
 on subjects of literature and politics. A dispute, which 
 one evening took place between him and counsellor 
 Ballow, a man of learning, but violent in his temper, 
 and vulgar in his manners, rose to such a height, that 
 Ballow uttered some expressions for which Akenside 
 thought himself obliged to demand an apology, and, 
 when that was refused, he sent his adversary a challenge. 
 An answer, however, was declined ; and though Aken- 
 side more than once attempted to see Ballow at his 
 lodgings, the counsellor kept close till the quarrel was 
 adjusted. It has been said, that an accommodation was 
 effected, not by any mutual concessions, but by a reso- 
 lution from which neither of them ^voitld depart, — the
 
 AKE^811)E. 
 
 559 
 
 •ne would not fight in the morning, nor the other in the 
 evening. Akcnside bcccuuc so notorious ior his irasci- 
 bility, Uiat even those wlio most admired iiis genius and 
 accomplishments, were shy of becoming intimate witli 
 him; — yet it is only justice to say, tliM his irascibility 
 was seldom excited, except when he thought his literary 
 reputation was concerned. On other occasions he was 
 an easy and agreeable companion, and could even tole- 
 rate rudeness which any other person woidd have re- 
 sented. 
 
 Alter settling in London, he wrote little poetry, but 
 engaged with indefatigable vigour in his medical duties ; 
 and used eveiy exertion to force himself into notice as 
 a physician. He placed himself in view by all the com- 
 mon methods, and attained to most of the honours con- 
 nected with his profession. He became a Fellow of the 
 Royal Society ; he obtained from the university of Cam- 
 bridge the degree of Doctor in Physic, and was admit- 
 ted into the College of Physicians ; he was appointed 
 Reader of the Gulstonian and Croonian Lectures; be- 
 came Physician of St Thomas's Hospital; and, on the 
 establishment of the Queen's Household, was made one 
 of the Physicians to her Majesty. But wjiile he was 
 advancing rapidly in affluence and in fame, he was seized 
 with a putrid fever, which put an end to his existence on 
 the 2jd of June 1770, in the 49th year of his age. 
 
 Sir John Hawkins, in his " Liie of Ur Johnson," has 
 delineated the character of Akensidc in tci-ms at once 
 so elegant, and so favourable, tliat we shall make no 
 apology for presenting it to our readers in his own 
 words. 
 
 "The value of that precept, which exhorts us to live 
 peaceably with all men, or, in other words, to avoid cre- 
 ating enemies, can only be estimated by reflecting on 
 those many amiable qualities against which the want of 
 it will preponderate. Akenside was a man of religion, 
 and strict virtue ; a philosopher, a scholar, and a line 
 poet. His conversation was of the most delightful 
 kind, learned, instructive, and, without any affectation 
 of wit, cheerful and entertaining. One of the plcasant- 
 cst days in my life I passed with him, Mr Dyson, and 
 another friend, at Putney bowling-green house, where 
 a neat and elegant dinner, the enlivening sunshine of a 
 simimer day, and the view of an unclouded sky, were 
 the least of our gratifications. In perfect good humour 
 with himself and all around him, he seemed to feel a 
 joy tliat he lived, and poured out his gratulations to 
 the great Disposer of all felicity, in expressions that 
 Plato himself might have uttered on such an occasion. 
 In conversation with select friends, and those whose 
 course of study had been nearly the same with his own, 
 it was an usual thing with him, in libations to the me- 
 mory of eminent men among the ancients, to bring their 
 characters into view, and thereby give occasion to ex- 
 patiate on those particulars of their lives that had ren- 
 dered them famous. His method was to arrange them in 
 three classes, philosophers, poets, and legislators. 
 
 "That a character thus formed should fail of recom- 
 mending itself, and oi procuring to its possessor those 
 benefits which it is in the power of mankind to bestow, 
 is a wonder; but it is often seen that negative qualities 
 are more conducive to this end than positive, and that, 
 with no higher a character than is attainable by any one 
 who, with a studious taciturnity, will keep his opinions 
 to himself, conform to the practice of others, and enter- 
 tain neither friendship for, nor enmity against any one, a 
 competition for the good opinion of the world may, for 
 
 emoluments and even dignities, stand abetter chance of 
 success than one of the most established reputation for 
 learning and ingenuity. The truth of this ol)servatiou 
 Akenside himself lived to experience, who, in a com- 
 petition for the place of pliysicianto the Charter-house, 
 was unable tu prevail against an obscure man, devoid of 
 every quality that might serve to recommend him, and 
 whose sole merit was that of behig distantly related to 
 lord Holland." 
 
 The author of " The Pleasures of Imagination" must 
 undotibtedly have possessed many excellent ijualities. 
 Tlie long and uninterrupted attachment which existed 
 between him and Mr Dyson, sufficiently proves that his 
 heart was formed for friendship; nor were the generous 
 and exalted sentiments which distinguish his writings 
 much at variance with the general tenor of his life. But 
 his overweening vanity threw a deep shade over all his 
 excellencies. No superiority of talents could justify 
 that arrogant contempt which he invariably expressed 
 for those whom he supposed his inferiors in mental en- 
 dowments ; nor can there be a more mortifying specta- 
 cle, than that of a man, whom Nature has blessed with 
 every pleasing quality, sacrificing to literary pride the 
 finest feelings of his heart, and the dearest friendships 
 of his life. Surely that genius is little to be envied, 
 which, while it raises us above " life's weakness," raises 
 us at the same time above its most endearing charities ; 
 and, directing all our estimation to the endowments of 
 the head, renders us totally insensible to the virtues of 
 the heart. 
 
 The accomplishments of Akenside were splendid and 
 numerous. His taste was refined by an intimate acquaint- 
 ance with the ancient classics, and his mind was well 
 stored with the treasures of philosophy. Of the ancient 
 philosophers, he chiefly admired Plato and Cicero; 
 Shaftesbury and Hutchison were his favourites among 
 the moderns. A high and settled veneration for the 
 Supreme Being, and enlarged ideas of Divine wisdom 
 and benevolence, gave a noble elevation to his sentiments, 
 and inspired him with aidentzeal in the cause of virtue. 
 A sacred enthusiasm for liberty forms the characteristic 
 excellence of his poetry, and entitled him in a peculiar 
 degree to the epithet of " Poet of the Community." 
 His Epistle to Curio, his Odes to the earl of Hunting- 
 don, and to the bishop of Winchester, would have done 
 honour to the best days of Greek or Roman indepen- 
 dence. So strenuously, indeed, did he advocate the 
 cause of freedom, that he was even suspected of en- 
 tertaining republican principles ; but nothing appears in 
 his writings to justify such a suspicion. The freedom 
 fw which he contends in reference to his own country, 
 was that established by the Revolution ; for the magna- 
 nimous promoters of which he professed the highest 
 veneration. 
 
 As a poet, Akenside is entitled to praise of the high- 
 est kind. His great work, " The Pleasures of the Ima- 
 gination," is perhaps the best didactic poem of whicli 
 ancient or modern times can boast ; and, when we re- 
 member that it was published at the age of 23, and that 
 great part of it was probably written before he had 
 reached his 18th year, it is not hyperbolical to say, that 
 it is the finest effort of youthful genius that was ever 
 presented to the world. No subject could have been 
 more happily chosen for displaying the brilliant images 
 of his fancy, and the uncommon amplitude of acquisi- 
 tions with which his mind was enriched. Every poeti- 
 cal beauty was nattirally included in his plan : and has
 
 )(iO 
 
 AKK 
 
 ALA 
 
 l)ecu exemplified in his verses vviih sitigular tclicity. 
 In this admirable poem wc arc charmed at once with 
 the most melodious versification, the most luxuriant 
 imagery, and tlie happiest elegance of diction; while its 
 parts are so artfully disposed, that the arrangement 
 could not be changed witliout materially injuring the 
 general design. But these beauties, captivating as they 
 are, form in fact the least part of its excellence. It de- 
 rives its most fascinating charm from that high tone 
 of moral feeling, — from those glowing emotions which 
 fire the breast of the youthful bard, and which irresisti- 
 bly convince us, that 
 
 from He.ivcn descends 
 The flame of genius to the linnuin breast, 
 And love and beauty and poetic joy, 
 And inspiration ! 
 
 Let the youth who wishes to attain suhliinity of senti- 
 ment, or firmness of principle, enrich his memory with 
 the ennobling strains of the Pleasures of the Imagina- 
 tion. Who can read such lines as these without catch- 
 ing the enthusiasm of virtue, and feeling himself pre- 
 pared for every great and noble achievement ! 
 
 Say, wliy was man so cniintntly raised 
 
 Amid the vast creation ; why ordain'd 
 
 Tbrouifh life and death to dart his picrcins;- eye 
 
 AV'ith thouf^hts beyond llie limit of his frame; 
 
 But tliat th' Omnipotent niii,dit send him forth 
 
 In sight of mortal and immortal powers. 
 
 As on a boinidless theatre, to nm 
 
 The great career of justice; to exalt 
 
 His generous aim to all diviner deeds ; 
 
 To chase each partial purpose from liis breast ; 
 
 And through the mists of passion and of sense, 
 
 And through the tossing tide of cliance and pain, 
 
 To hold his course unfaltering, while the voice 
 
 Of Truth and Virtue, up the steep ascent 
 
 Of N.ature calls him to his high reward, 
 
 Th' applauding smile of Heaven > Else wherefore burns 
 
 In morial bosoms, this unquenclied hope 
 
 That breathes from day to daj' svdjlimei' things. 
 
 And mocks possession? wherefore darts the mind. 
 
 With such resistless ardour, to enibr;ice 
 
 Majestic forms : impatient to be free, 
 
 Spurning the gross control of wilful might, 
 
 Proud of the strong contention of her toils. 
 
 Proud to be daring >. 
 
 From the author of this poem, it is surely little de- 
 traction to say, that he is not always equal ; — that his 
 fancy does not always preserve the same height to 
 which she occasionally soars. It is but seldom, how- 
 ever, that she deigns " to rest her wing beneath her 
 native quarry ;" — and never, perhaps, was there a poem 
 of equal length, which was distinguished by such a con- 
 tinued strain of sublime sentiment' and poetical diction. 
 His chief fatjit is, that from too anxious a desire to 
 avoid low and vulgar expressions, he sometimes involvas 
 himself in obscurity ; — yet, even in his obscurity, he is 
 frequently splendid, — he hides himself " in a veil of 
 light," and conceals his natural grandeur by superfluity 
 of ornament. He himself was sensible of the imperfec- 
 tions of his poem : and went on for several years revising 
 and correcting it, till, feeling the work grow on his 
 hand, he resolved to write it altogether anew, upon a 
 plan somewhat different and enlarged. Two books, and 
 great part of a third, were finished before his death, and 
 were published, along with the original poem, by his 
 friend Mr Dyson. The admirers of poetry will not 
 much regret that his plan was rrcver completed ; for 
 
 though his reformed work is more correct and close, ii. 
 is niucn less splendid and jjoetical than its original. 
 
 From contemplating this wonderful production, w'e 
 turn, with some regret, to his Odes. We cannot, in- 
 deed, subscribe to the unjust and illiberal censure 
 passed upon them by Dr Jolinsc>n. Though they may 
 be inferior to the odes of Dryden and of Gray, they fre- 
 quently breathe the true spirit of poetry ; and would, 
 perhaps, be read with higher admiration, were they not 
 the ofl'spring of the same genius which produced the 
 Pleasures of Imagination ? His Ode to the Eail of Hun- 
 tingdon, and that to the Earl of Winchester, would have 
 been sufTicicnl to rank him high among lyric poets ; and 
 his Hymn to the Naiads is esteemed one of the finest 
 specimens of classical elegance. His talent for satire 
 is very strikingly displayed in his K/iimlc to Curio. It 
 is difficult to imagine what could induce him to change 
 it afterwards into an Ode, which, I)r Johnson remarks, 
 is disgraceful only to the author. 
 
 Besides his poems, Akcnside published, in the Philo- 
 sophical Transactions, several medical treatises, which 
 displayed much ingenuity and an intimate knowledge of 
 the science. His Discourse on the Dysentery was con- 
 sidered as a very conspicuous specimen of latinity, and 
 raised his reputation as a scholar as high as that which 
 he already enjoyed as a poet. (/:) 
 
 AKHISAR, or Jl'/iitc-Cast/c, the name now given to 
 the ancient Thyatira, from its quarries of white marble. 
 It is situated on the river Hermus, on a fertile plain, I8 
 miles broad ; and is 49 miles S. E. of Pergamo. It 
 abounds in grain and cotton, and carries on a trade in 
 opium and Turkey carpets. Population 5000. E. Long. 
 28" 30'. N. Lat. 38° 5u'. (o) 
 
 AKH-SHEHR, the Jntiochia ad Phidium of the an- 
 cients, is the capital of the ancient province of Pisidia, 
 now called Sangiakat dc yJs/i/u/ur by the Turks, to whom 
 it belongs, (w) 
 
 AL, a particle in the Arabic language, which signi- 
 fies t/ie, as Al Koran, i/ic Koran. 
 
 ALABA, or Alava, a small district of Biscay, in 
 Spain, stretching along the Ebro, from Navarre to the 
 Biscayan mountains. It is about 7 or 8 leagues long, 
 and 6 or 7 broad, producing vines, wheat, rye, and bar- 
 ley. It has also iron mines, which furnish the inhabit- 
 ants with articles of commerce. The kings of Navarre 
 were anciently called kings of Alaba.(Tu) 
 
 ALABANDINE, or Almandine, the name of a gem 
 described by the ancients as having a deep red colour, 
 and a hardness intermediate between that of ruby and 
 garnet. It was found near Alabanda, an ancient city 
 in Asia Minor. It appears to be the precious garnet of 
 modern mineralogists ; and not the oriental ruby, as 
 stated by Wallerius. Sec P/iii. Hist. A'atur. lib. xxxvii. 
 Boctius de Boot's Gemtnaruin ct Lapidmn Histcria, p. 
 159. WMcrius's Mineralogie, torn. i. p. 215. Bertrand's 
 Dictionnaire Univer.icl dcs Fossilcn firofires., et des Fos- 
 silvs accident els, tom. i. p. 15. Karsten's Mineralogische 
 Tabelicn. p. 69. Brongniart's Mineralogie, tom. i. p. 595. 
 Jameson's Mineralogy, vol. i. p. 64. (r) 
 
 ALABASTER, the name applied by ancient and mo- 
 dern artists to certain kinds of gypsum and calc-sinter. 
 The kinds of gypsum are the compact and foliated ; and 
 these, on account of their softness, and the delicate po- 
 lish they receive, have been long employed in statuary, 
 and frequently also for vases, pillars in the interior of 
 halls. Sec. The gypsum of Volterra, near Florence,
 
 ALA 
 
 ALA 
 
 361 
 
 wliich Is remarkable for its traneludlcity, is cut into 
 beautiful figures and vases. When a candle or lamp is 
 put into a vase of this kind, it difluses a very agreeable 
 and delicate light. It is said the ancients used this 
 mineral in their temples in place of glass, in order that 
 the light might be pale and feeble, and thus harmonize 
 in some measure with the general character of the 
 place. The calc-sinter, when it occurs iu large masses, 
 is sometimes cut into statues and vases. The most 
 beautiful kinds, wiiich have a yellowish colour, are found 
 in the Thebaid, situated between the Nile and the Red 
 Sea, near to the town of Alabastron. In one of the pub- 
 lic museums in Paris, the Napoleon Museum, there is 
 a colossal figure of an Egyptian deity, cut in calc-sinter. 
 Older mineralogists, as Boetius dc Boot, sir John Hill, 
 Bertrand, and Rome de Lisle, divide alabaster into two 
 kinds, alabastrum, and aiabastrites. The alabastrum is 
 gypsum, and the alabastrites is a harder calcareous 
 stone, corresponding in external characters to the calc- 
 sinter of modern mineralogists. La Metherie and ol'iiers, 
 on the contrary, consider the alabastrites as compact 
 gypsum ; and Pliny, under the same denomination, in- 
 cludes both gypsum and calc-sinter. See Hauy's Mi- 
 neralogie. Brongniart's Mineralogie. Schmieder's Lithur- 
 gik. Jameson's Mineralogy, (r) 
 
 ALABASTER, the name of a vial used by the an- 
 cients for holding odoriferous liquors, on account of those 
 vessels being generally made of alabaster. Qiv) 
 
 ALABASTER, or Eleuthera, one of the Bahama 
 orLucaya islands, where above 60 families settled under 
 Governor Holmes, and erected a small fort. This island 
 produces the greatest proportion of the pine-apples that 
 are exported. \V. Long. "5" to 76' 5'. N. Lat. 25° to 25° 
 26'. (o) 
 
 ALACHUA Savannah, a flat and verdant plain, about 
 is miles broad, and 50 in circumference, belonging to 
 the Indians in East Florida. It is encircled with high 
 sloping hills, whose fertile soil supports many fragrant 
 orange groves, and extensive forests. The town of Ala- 
 chua formerly stood upon the borders of this plain ; but 
 the insalubrity of the situation, occasioned by the stench 
 of putrid fish and reptiles, driven on shore durijig sum- 
 mer and autumn by the alligators, compelled the Indians 
 to remove to Cuscowilla, two miles distant. The horses 
 and horned cattle fed in this plain are large and fat ; but 
 the warm water of the Savannah afflicts them with mor- 
 tal diseases. {iv) 
 
 ALAIS, or Alez, the Alezia of Julius Caesar, a city of 
 France, in the department of the Gard, situated on an 
 arm of the river Gard, at the foot of the Cevennes. The 
 territory of Alais is mountainous, though generally fer- 
 tile, producing grain, olives, and mulberries. The wealth 
 of this place is derived from the exportation of raw and 
 wrought silk. The citadel of Alais was built in 1689, 
 by Lewis XIV. for the purpose of awing the Protestants, 
 wlio have at this day a place of worship here. Alais is 
 132 leagues S. E. of Paris. Population 8944. East Long. 
 4° 4' 0" N. Lat. 44° 7' 22". {w) 
 
 ALAMAGAN, or the Conception Island, one of 
 the Ladrones or Marian Isles, is about 18 miles in cir- 
 cumference. In the northwest coast of the island there 
 is a volcano of a conical form about 50 yards high, with a 
 base of 400 yards in diameter. The cone is surrounded 
 with cinders, and streams of black lava may be traced 
 along its sides to the shore. In 1799, captain Bass, who 
 visited this island to procure fresh water, heard a rum- 
 bling noise, accompanied with an immense quantity of 
 
 Vol.. I. Part I. 
 
 smoke issuing from the crater, which sccnicJ to indicate 
 an approaching eruption. The only quadrupeds on the 
 island arc green-taikd lizards. The iand-cral)s arc large 
 and numerous; and partridges, quails, owls, thrushes, 
 bulfinches, and pigeons, are also found. The vegetation 
 on the lower parts of tlic island is luxuriant. The cocoa- 
 nut tree, the bread-tree of the Nicobar island, and seve- 
 ral kinds of stone fruit, grow in abundance. During the 
 prevalence oi the trade-winds, ships may ride securely in 
 a small bay on the western side of the island. E. Loiig 
 146° 47'. N. Lat. 18° 5'. (o) 
 
 ALAMAK, a name given by tlie Arabs to a star of the 
 second magnitude in the southern foot of Andromeda. 
 It is marked y in our catalogues, (w) 
 
 ALAMANNI, Luigi, celebrated by his composi- 
 tions in the lighter species of poetry, was born of ft 
 noble family, at Florence, on the 28th October, 1495. 
 Under the tuition of Jacopo Uiacccto, he made such 
 progress in his studies at tlie university of Florence, 
 as to outstrip all his fellow-students. The literary con- 
 versazione, which were at this time held in the gar- 
 den of Bernardo Rucellai, were frequented by the most 
 celebrated character^ of the age ; and Alamanni, who 
 was a regular visiter, did not fail to profit by such choice 
 society. 
 
 The republic of Florence was at this time under the 
 government of the cardinal Julius de Medici, to whose 
 family and faction the father of Alamanni was strongly 
 attached : The merits of the father were in some mea- 
 sure reflected to the son, and Alamanni stood high in 
 the cardinal's favour. The cardinal, however, having 
 issued an order, prohibiting, under a severe punish- 
 ment, the carrying of arms, Alamanni was arrested, 
 during night, for a violation of the order, and subjected 
 to the punishment which was threatened. The higli 
 spirit of the poet could not brook the injury which he 
 fancied he had received. His irritation against the car- 
 dinal swelled into revenge, and he was resolved to gra- 
 tify the malignity of his passions. Upon the death of 
 Leo X. in 1521, he entered into a conspiracy with Za- 
 nobi Buondelmonti, Jacopo Diacceto, Antonio Bruccioli, 
 and his cousin Tommaso Alamanni, who had different 
 causes of resentment against the cardinal, and conceal- 
 ed his designs under the pretence of restoring the 
 liberties of the Florentines. Alamanni, it is said, of- 
 fered to assassinate the cardinal with his own hand ; 
 but the plot was detected, and the conspirators com- 
 pelled to save themselves by flight. Alamanni escap- 
 ed with difficulty, and took shelter in the states of 
 the duke d'Urbino. Diacceto and his cousin were 
 seized and beheaded ; and he himself was prosecu- 
 ted as a rebel, and 500 florins of gold offered for 
 his person. He now retired to Venice, where he 
 was kindly received by Carlo Capello, a Venetian sena- 
 tor, and a learned man, who took a lively interest in 
 the safety of the poet. The cardinal Julius having 
 succeeded to the pontificate, Alamanni did not think 
 himself secure at Venice. He set out for France ; but, 
 on passing through Brescia, he was arrested by order 
 of the pope. The imprisonment of Alamanni having 
 reached the ears of his friend Capello, he exerted all 
 his influence in his behalf, and, by pretending to be un- 
 acquainted with him, he obtained his release. After 
 this narrow escape, Alamanni travelled through differ- 
 ent countries, waiting for some fortunate revolution 
 which might restore him to his native country. In' 
 France he was received by Francis I. with everv mark of 
 
 Zz
 
 362 
 
 ALA 
 
 ALA 
 
 respect, and was honoured with the most Jistinguished 
 favours. 
 
 In consequence of the occupation of Rome, in 1527, 
 by the arms of Charles V. his hohncss was compelled 
 to take refuge in the castle of St Angelo. The nobility 
 and the people took advantage of his ill fortune, 
 and revolted against the family of the Medici, who 
 were obliged to al)andon the government. Alamanni 
 and Buondelmonti were recalled to their native city, 
 where the former devoted himself to his poetical pur- 
 suits; but the unsettled state of parties rendered it 
 prudent for him to spend the greater part of his time at 
 Genoa. 
 
 The emperor Charles having succeeded in placing 
 Alexander de Medicis at the head of the government 
 of Florence, Alamanni was again obliged, in !2j2, to 
 withdraw from his native city. He put himself under 
 the protection of Francis I., who employed him hi 
 several important affairs, honoured him with the collar 
 of the order of St Michael, and appointed him steward 
 of the household of Catharine de Medicis. Upon the 
 death of the pope in 1534, and of Alexander de Medicis 
 in 153", the hopes of liberty again animated the hearts 
 of the Florentines ; and Alamanni did not fail to en- 
 courage them, both by his letters and his presence. 
 When peace was concluded in 1544, between the em- 
 peror and Francis I., Alamanni was sent ambassador to 
 the former. In one of his poems in praise of Francis, 
 there were some satirical passages against the emperor, 
 and one particularly, in which the Cock says to the 
 Eagle, 
 
 L"uq\iila gi'ifa;;ii,T. 
 Clio per plu divorai- due bucclii porta. 
 
 " Two crooked bills tlic ravor.ous eagle bears 
 The better to devour." 
 
 The emperor recollected the passage, and when Ala- 
 manni was pronouncing a fine speech in his praise, be- 
 ginning every sentence with the word JrjuUu., Charles 
 made no other reply than in the words already quoted. 
 Alamanni evaded the severity of the retort, and gave 
 great satisfaction to the emperor, by remarking, that he 
 then spoke as a poet, whose province is fiction, but that 
 he now spoke as an ambassador, who was bound to tell 
 the truth. 
 
 After the death of Francis, his successor Henry W. em- 
 ployed Alamanni in various political missions. Upon his 
 return, from an embassy to Italy, to Amboise, the resi- 
 dence of the court, he died of dysentery, on the 1 3th April 
 1556, in the 60th year of bis age. His epitaph, written 
 by his friend Benedict Varchi, concluded with the fol- 
 lowing lines : 
 
 S])ai-ge rosas tuniulo violasque ; hie lUe -Vlmaiinus 
 I'elrarcha: vcrsu proxiinus ut patria. 
 
 Ahl'.ough the character of Alamanni seems to have 
 been generally esteemed, we cannot close this sketch of 
 his life witliout severely reprobating that barbarous 
 resolution which formed the basis of his future adven- 
 tures. Had the restoration of liberty to the Florentines 
 been the real object of the conspirators, we might have 
 found some apology in human passions, for the atro- 
 cious deed by which they proposed to secure it. But 
 no considei'ation can lessen the villany of the man who 
 raises the arm of an assassin to gratify the malignity of 
 private revenge. The cardinal Julius was entitled to 
 the highc.st praise, for fairly administering the laws 
 
 ■fthieh lie had framed. He has shown, in the punisli- 
 meiil of Alamanni, that he had not one statute for the 
 rich and another for the poor ; and for this pai't of his 
 life posterity will do justice to his name. But whatever 
 may have been the subsequent conduct of Alamanni, 
 and however high be the reputation which he has ob- 
 tahied as a literaiy character, we can only view him as a 
 culprit who had the good fortune to elude the vigilance 
 of justice. 
 
 The printed works of Alamanni are, 1, Ofure Toncane, 
 2. vols. 1532, 1533, containing Elegies, Eclogues, Son- 
 nets, Satires, Tragedies, &cc. 2. A Poem on Agricul- 
 ture, entitled, La C'oltivazi'jtie., 1546. 3. Girone H Cor- 
 icse, or Giron the Courteous, 1548. 4. An Epic Poem, 
 called /,V/i'arc/j(c/(-, or the Siege of Bourges, 1570. 5. 
 J-'lora, a Comedy, 1556. 6. Lpiiframini. 7. His Ora- 
 zlone e Selva. 8. Mime, or Verses. He is also the au- 
 thor of Letters, Orations, Elegies, and several unpub- 
 lished works, he. See Mazzuchelli's Hcriiruri {I'lcaHa, 
 torn. i. p. 245. (/3) 
 
 AL.\N, or ALLEN, WiLLi.^M, a celebrated cardinal, 
 was born at Rossal, in Lancashire, in 1532. After a 
 successful prosecution of his studies at Oriel College, 
 Oxford, he was, in 1556, made principal of St Mary's 
 Hall, and one of the proctors of the university. In 1 558, 
 he was raised to the dignity of canon of York ; but, from 
 his attachment to the catholic faith, his hopes of prefer- 
 ment were blasted by the death of queen Mary. He 
 therefore quitted his native country in 1560, and connect- 
 ed huiiselt with the English College at Louvain. Here 
 he was universally esteemed for the extent of his erudi- 
 tion, and the affability of his manners, and obtained the 
 highest distinction from a work which he published at 
 Antwerp in 1565, entitled, "A Defence of the Doctrine 
 of Purgatory, and Prayers for the Dead." From his 
 extreme application to study, his health began to de- 
 cline ; and he was induced to return to England in 1565, 
 for the benefit of his native air. His zeal for the reli- 
 gion which he was taught, did not here forsake him. 
 His industry in making proselytes rendered him highly 
 obnoxious, and compelled him to conceal himself in the 
 neighbourhood of Oxford, where he found leisure to 
 write a defence of the Catholic faith. The attempts, 
 however, which he was perpetually making in favour of 
 his religion, again excited notice, and forced him, in 
 1568, to retire to Flanders. His character as a learned 
 and able theologian induced the university of Douay to 
 make him a doctor of divinity, and obtained him the of- 
 fice of canon of Cambray. The attention of Alan was 
 now solely occupied in establishing seminaries for the 
 education of English Catholics, and in com.posing trea- 
 tises in defence of the doctrines and ceremonies of the 
 Romish church. His works were regarded as treason- 
 able in England : They were prohibited to be either sold 
 or read; and Alfield,a Jesuit, was executed in 1585, for 
 importing them into the kingdom. The hostility of 
 Alan to the religion and government of his native coun- 
 try was not merely displayed in his writings in favour of 
 the Romish hierarchy; he united with some exiled Eng- 
 lish noblemen in instigating Philip II, of Spain to make 
 a descent upon England ; and vindicated the treachery' of 
 sir W. Stanley, in surrendering Daventer to the Spanish 
 arms. As a reward for these services, he was created 
 a cardinal in 1587; and the Spanish monarch appointed 
 him to a valuable abbey in tlie kingdom of js'aples. 
 Encouraged by these preferments, the cardinal took 
 an active share m promoting the views of the Span-
 
 ALA 
 
 ALA 
 
 O /^ '^ 
 
 ish armada. He is said to have composed a work, 
 of whicli an immense impression was tluown ofl" at 
 Antwerp, for the purpose of disseminating seditious 
 principles in Enijland, and of alienating his countrymen 
 from the laws, as well as from the faith of their country. 
 The violence which characterized this inilumniatory 
 productidn was not approved of by the more sober 
 Catholics; but it raised the cardinal to higher favour 
 with the king of Spain, who now promoted him to the 
 archbishopric of Mechlin. He continued, however, to 
 reside at Rome, afl'ording an asylum to his exiled coun- 
 trymen, and exerting his talents in support of the 
 Catholic faith. About the close of his life, he is said lo 
 have regretted the measures which he promoted against 
 his native country, and lo have expressed an anxiety fur 
 reconciling the Protestants and Catholics. There does 
 .not appear, however, to be sufficient evidence for this 
 conjecture. The character of the cardinal was too de- 
 cided, his attachment to the Catholic superstition too 
 strong, and his enmity to England too frequently shown, 
 and too deliberately clierished, to admit of any unmanly 
 mitigation at the hour of death. He died in 1594, and 
 was suspected, though without reason, to have been poi- 
 soned by the Jesuits. His remains were carried in great 
 pomp to the chapel of the English College at Rome, 
 where a splendid monument still records his sufferings 
 and labours. 
 
 The character of cardinal Alan has been depicted in 
 various colours. As a zealous Catholic, who boldly 
 defended the religion which he taught, no liberal man 
 can throw the least imputation upon his name. He 
 who maintains with uniform firmness the deliberate 
 convictions of his mind, however false or dangerous 
 these convictions may be, is more an object of praise 
 than of censure ; but he who maintains them in the 
 worst of times, at the expense of his tranquillity, and 
 the risk of his life, exhibits the features of a great 
 and intrepid soul, which claims even the reverence and 
 esteem of his enemies. Such was the character of 
 cardinal Alan as a defenderof the church of Rome. 
 
 But here our approbation of his conduct must termi- 
 nate. No sophistry can justify his repeated attempts 
 against the security of his native land; and, whatever 
 jpalliation may be found in the persecutions v/hich he 
 sustained, or in the political principles of his faith, v,-e 
 cannot stain our page with an apology for the cold- 
 blooded traitor, who allows personal suffering lo extin- 
 guish in his breast the first and the noblest of all feel- 
 ings, — the love of country. An invisible chain, forged 
 by the hand of nature, connects the heart of man with 
 the soil on which he first drew his breath. The very 
 turf on which he treads is hallowed in a patriot's eye; 
 and the remembrance of early attachments becomes a 
 powerful check upon every emotion that tends to weak- 
 en or dissolve the sacred tie. A patriot in exile is one 
 of the noblest of human beings : he may lawfully sigh for 
 some change of affairs, which will permit him to return 
 to his country; but he will never sacrilegiously lift his 
 arm against the land that gave him birth. Such ought 
 to have been the cardinal's conduct. He v.ould not, in- 
 deed, have been elevated to the splendour of archiepis- 
 copal dignity, but he would have left behind him a name 
 which poslerity would have cherished, and which every 
 liberal Protestant and Catholic would have mentioned 
 with reverence and respect. 
 
 As an author, Alan has been ranked among the ablest 
 defenders of the docti'ines of his church. His writings 
 
 on this subject are numerous ; but the ablest of them i^ 
 a work entitled, A True, Sincere, and Modest Defence 
 of Christian Catholics, that sufl'ered for their Faith ai 
 home and abroad, 1583." It is a reply to a work written 
 by Lord Burleigh, and has been highly esteemed. See 
 Fuller's Hort/iii-s, and Andrew's Jliat. of Gnat Brilain, 
 3d edit. p. 51 1,524. (;3) 
 
 ALAND, an island in the Baltic, which gives the 
 name to a cluster of 80 adjacent islands buJoi'ving to 
 Sweden, is 20 miles long and 16 broad. There are 3750 
 acres of land in cultivation, which produce wheat, bar- 
 ley, oats, and rye. The quantity of wheat annually pro- 
 duced is about 2500 barrels. The climate of Aland 
 seems to be uncommonly salubrious. Instances of lon- 
 gevity are very numerous ; and one-sixth of tlie inhabi- 
 tants are «bove 30 years of age. According to Mr Coxc 
 and Acerbi, the mountains arc chiefly of granite ; and 
 the soil is so fertile, that scarcity of corn is seldom ex- 
 perienced. The inhabitants subsist by agriculture, 
 hunting, and fishing, and carry on a traffic in coals, lime, 
 butter. Sec. As a proof of the regularity of the inhabi- 
 tants, it has been stated, that from 1749 to 1753, only 
 ncvcn murders have been committed, and seven crimi- 
 nals capitally convicted. The principal town is Castel- 
 holm, situated in the south-east of the island. The ani 
 nual revenue which Aland yields to the king of Sweden 
 is 19,986 rix-doUars. The population, in 1792, was 
 11,260. E. Long. 20° 5'. N. Lat. 60° 19'. See Coxc's 
 Travels, and Acerbi's Travels, y. i. p. 194 — 201. (c;) 
 
 ALANGIUM, a genus of plants, of the class Polyan- 
 dria, and order Monogynia. See Botany, (tf) 
 
 ALANS, a fierce and warlike people, of Asiatic, and 
 probably of Tartar origin. Their early residence ap- 
 pears to have been near the districts of Oufa and Solem- 
 skoi, and the mountainous country where the Jaick 
 takes its rise ; but they afterwards migrated towards the 
 south, and occupied the pkdns M'hich lie to the north of 
 Derbend and Circassia. Of an adventurous and martial 
 disposition, they at length reached the Danube ; and 
 proceeding from their settlements on that river, they 
 traversed Gaul, A. D. 406, and established themselves 
 at the foot of the Pyrenees. They next entered Spain, 
 and took possession of many of its finest pi-o-vinces ; but 
 they were afterwards dispersed by the Goths and Franks, 
 and their name was ultimately lost in those of their 
 conquerors. The Alans resemliled the Tartars in many 
 of their habits and customs. Like them, they travelled 
 in wagons from place to place ; like them too, they re- 
 garded their flocks as their principal riches ; and, like 
 many tribes of the same people, they adorned the trap- 
 pings of their horses with the scalps of their enemies 
 whom they had slain in the field. Their chief occupa- 
 tion was the exercise ol arms ; they considered those 
 who died in battle as fortunate and happy, wliile they 
 reckoned it disgraceful to wait the approaches of dis- 
 solution among their women and children. Such was' 
 their inclination to war, that it is said they worshipped 
 a naked scymitar fixed in the earlh ; but whether as a 
 divinity, or only as an emblem of the God of battles, his- 
 tory does not enable us to determine. See .Inunian, 
 Marcell. xxxi. 2.; (iibbon. Hist. vol. ii. p. 56. chap. 12. 
 vol. iv. p. 312, 335, chap. 26. De Guigne's HistQire des 
 Huns, torn. ii. p. 279. (/;) 
 
 ALARIC I., king of the Visigotlis, and sprung from 
 
 the noble race of tlie Balli, who yielded only to the 
 
 Amali in the fame which arises from barbarous valour. 
 
 He first became distinguished A. D. 576, when he pas- 
 
 Z z 2-
 
 364 
 
 ALA 
 
 ALA 
 
 sed the Danube at the head of 200,000 men ; and, af- 
 ter a life spent in continual warfare, he died in the 
 year 410. 
 
 When the Roman emperors perceived the difficulty 
 of maintaining their possessions in Gaul and Germany, 
 they adopted the policy of hiring one tribe of the bar- 
 barians who invaded them, to defend the provinces 
 against Uie irruptions of another. Accordingly Alaric I. 
 served with great reputation in the war with the Goths, 
 which was terminated A. D. 382; but after the death 
 of Theodosius, he imagined that he was overlooked ; 
 and, collecting an army, he ravaged Pannonia and Dacia, 
 and burst with resistless fury into Greece. He soon 
 laid waste the fairest regions of that country. The 
 whole territory of Attica, from the promontory of Su- 
 rium to the town of Megara, was desolated by the march 
 of his troops ; and the city itself was spared only by the 
 readiness with which the Athenians admitted the con- 
 queror within their walls. Having spent a short time 
 at Athens, the Gothic leader advanced into Pelopon- 
 nesus, marking his way with all the cruelty and des- 
 truction which attend the progress of men who are 
 fierce by nature, and powerful by their numbers, and 
 whose rapacity is stimulated by the immediate prospect 
 of wealth. But though the Roman valour had declined, 
 it was not extinct. The career of Alaric was stopt by 
 Stilicho, a general of the empire, who compelled him 
 to retreat to Arcadia; but cither by negligence or con- 
 nivance, he was allowed to escape, and take refuge in 
 Epirus. Cunning, however, as well as brave, he en- 
 tered into a treaty with Arcadius the eastern emperor, 
 and was raised to the government of the provinces 
 Which he had laid waste ; till having amused both Ar- 
 cadius and Honorius, his rival in power, with deceitful 
 procrastination, he invaded Italy A. D. 400, and ravaged 
 it for some time without opposition. Unable to resist 
 the fury of the barbarians, Honorius fled at their ap- 
 proach. Alaric drove him from one fortress to another, 
 and would have reduced him to utter subjection, if Sti- 
 licho had not advanced to his relief; and, by a success- 
 ful attack upon the Goths, when celebrating the festival 
 of Eastei-, overthrown them with great slaughter, and 
 vindicated the honour of the Roman name. After the 
 death of Stilicho, Alaric invaded Italy a second time. 
 He passed the Alps and the Po ; and being joined by 
 J00,000 auxiliaries, he pitched his camp before the walls 
 of Rome. He was induced, however, by large sums of 
 money, to raise the siege ; but having received a pow- 
 erful reinforcement of Goths and Huns, led from the 
 banks of the Danube by Adolphus his relation, he again 
 invested the capital, entered it by force, deprived Hono- 
 rius of the imperial dignity, and finally (A. D. 410, 
 A. U. C. 1163) gave up the city to be plundered by his 
 soldiers. Yet as some of the Goths were Christians, 
 .they spared many of the inhabitants, and respected the 
 edifices sacred to the worship of God ; but the Huns, 
 and other savage tribes, who formed a part of the vic- 
 torious army, indulged their cruelty, their ferocity, and 
 their lust, without pity or restraint; and the awful de- 
 vastation continued no fewer than six days. After the 
 taking of Rome, Alaric died, while his troops were em- 
 barking for Sicily, and was buried in the channel of the 
 river Busentius, the water of which had been diverted 
 ?rom its course, that the body might be interred. 
 
 Alaric was a Goth, but not one of the rudest sort. 
 He not only possessed the direct and brutal courage of 
 a barbarian, but was eminent, in sojjac degree, for the 
 
 penetr?tlon and the policy of more cultivated times. Gib- 
 bon, Hint. vol. V. p. 147. chap. 30. Ancitnl. Univ. Hint. 
 vol. xvii. p. 191, (ft scq. Goldsmith's Hint, of Jiome, 
 vol. ii. (/() 
 
 ALAHIC H., in Biography, king of the Visigoths. 
 He succeeded his father Kuric in the year 484, and died 
 A. D. 507. He reigned over all the country which ex- 
 tends from the Garonne to the Rhone ; he adapted the 
 Theodosian laws to the situation and manners of his peo- 
 ple, and published them as the institutes by which 
 they were to be governed. These institutes were after- 
 wards known by the title of 2V;e code of Ataric. Ac- 
 cording to Bouchard, this code was compiled from the 
 Gregorian, Hcrmogenian, and Theodosian laws, and 
 from the works of Caius, Julius, Paulus, and Papianus. 
 In the reign of this prince, the Christian world was di- 
 vided by the Arian controversy. He espoused the ten-- 
 cts of the hercsiarch, and, as was usual at that period, 
 drew his sword in order to support them ; but he found 
 a powerful antagonist in Clovis, the monarch of the 
 Franks, who led an army against him, witli a view to 
 maintaui the orthodox belief. Guided by a white hart 
 of singular beauty, and directed by a meteor which ho- 
 vered over the cathedral of Poictiers, Clovis ad- 
 vanced to the Champagne de St Hilare, and routed the 
 Goths, whom prodigies and evil omens had deprived of 
 their wonted courage. The two kuigs met in single 
 encounter; but the fortune of Clovis prevailed, and Ala- 
 ric fell by the hand of his rival. He was succeeded by 
 Gesalaic, his natural son. Gibbon, vol. vi. chap. 38, tt 
 aecj. Univ. History, vol. xvi. p. 6. (/i) See Bouchard's 
 Memoir on the laws of Alaric, in the Mem. de I'Institut. 
 Kational, torn. iv. (w) 
 
 ALASCANI, the name of a religious sect, who took 
 their name from John Alasco, a Polish nobleman, and a 
 near relation of the king of Poland. He was originally 
 a bishop of the church of Rome, and purchased the 
 valuable library of Erasmus, when that learned man was 
 lying on his death-bed. In consequence of having adop- 
 ted the principles of the Reformation, he was banished 
 from his native country. Alasco took the charge of a 
 Protestant church in Embden ; but, on the promulgation 
 of the Interim, he and his congregation fled for shelter 
 to England, where the reformed religion was making 
 rapid progress under the auspices of Edward VI. These, 
 and other Protestant refugees, to the number of 380, 
 were made denizens of England : they were erected 
 into a corporation by Edward, under the care of Alasco, 
 and received a grant of the church of the Augustin 
 friars, in 1550. Upon the accession of Maiy, however, 
 most of the Alascani were obliged to fly, tlie kingdom. 
 Alasco, and some of his congregation, embarked for 
 Denmark ; but as soon as their principles were made 
 known, they were compelled to depart in the midst of 
 winter. They afterwards went to Lubec, Wismar, and 
 Hamburgh ; but, in consequence of the religious an- 
 imosities which prevailed, they were expelled from 
 these towns, after the most barbarous treatment. They 
 at last found an asylum at Embden. In 1560, when the 
 supreme power devolved on Elizabeth, the Alascani 
 were restored to their privileges, on condition that no 
 foreigner should be at the head of their congregation. 
 They were therefore obliged to depose Alasco, and to 
 choose Grindal, Bishop of London. The church in 
 Austin Friars, which was then given them, is s.till re- 
 tained by their descendants. By the kindness of Sigis- 
 niund, Alaseo spent the latter part of his life in Poland,
 
 ALB 
 
 ALB 
 
 363 
 
 where he died I SCO. The Alascani were hostile to 
 episcopal forms, they received the sacrament sitting, 
 they denied the necessity of baptism, and maintained, 
 that the expression, " This is my body," in the institu- 
 tion of the eucharist, refers not merely to the bread, but 
 to the whole celebration of the supper. Sec Neal's ///.vf. 
 of the Puritans. yo\. i. p. 165, and Andrew's Britain, vol. 
 i. 18, 357,415, 467. (o) 
 
 ALATAM AH A, a navigable river in Georgia, which 
 rises in the Cherokee mountains ; and, after traversing 
 .500 miles of country, discharges itself by several mouths, 
 into the Atlantic, where its breadth is about 500 miles. 
 
 ALAUDA, or Lauk, a genus of birds, of the order 
 of Passeres. See Ornithology. 
 
 ALAY, or Tkiumpii, the name of a ceremony prac- 
 tised by the Turks at the commencement of war. We 
 are informed by baron Tott, who saw the ceremony 
 which accompanied the breaking out of a war between 
 Russia and the Porte, that the alay consists of a kind of 
 masquerade, in which the different tradesmen exhibit 
 to the spectators the implements of their respective 
 arts, and their mode of operation. The husbandman 
 guides his plough ; the joiner handles his plane; and 
 tliese motley groups, seated in splendid cars, begin the 
 procession. Then follows the standard of their prophet 
 Mahomet, brought from the Seraglio to be carried to 
 the Ottoman army. This sacred banner is viewed with 
 the most stupid fanaticism. None but the emirs are 
 allowed to touch it ; and the very look of an infidel is 
 sufficient to profane the consecrated standard. The 
 alay having been almost forgotten, from the long peace 
 which preceded the war which we have mentioned, the 
 Christians imprudently crowded to witness the exhibi- 
 tion. The emir, who preceded the holy standard, cried 
 with a loud voice, " Let no infidel profane with his pre- 
 sence the banner of the Prophet; and let every Mussul- 
 man who perceives an unbeliever, make it known, under 
 pain of reprobation." 
 
 At the sound of these words, the brutal fanaticism of 
 the Turks was roused. A thirst for Christian blood seized 
 every breast, and a scene of massacre ensued, which 
 language is too feeble to describe. Neither the help- 
 lessness of infancy, nor the infirmities of age, nor the 
 most affecting circumstances of female distress, could 
 save the devoted Christians from the knives of their re- 
 ligious assassins. (/3) 
 
 ALBA, Alba Pom/ieia of the Romans, a city in France, 
 in the department of Tanaro, and situated on the river 
 Tanaro. Besides its cathedral, there are six churches, 
 and seven convents. Population, 9650. E. Long. 7° 51'. 
 N. Lat. 44° 40'. (7u) 
 
 ALBA. See Albi. 
 
 ALBAN, St, celebrated as the first Christian martyr 
 in Britain, was born at Verulam, about the middle of the 
 third century. In the early p?.rt of his life, he went to 
 Rome along with the monk Amphibalus, and sei'ved se- 
 ven years in the army of Dioclesian. Upon his return 
 to the place of his nativity, he was converted to the 
 Christian faith by Amphibalus; but, being cited before 
 the Roman governor for harboiu'ing Amphibalus in his 
 house, he suffered martyrdom, about 303, in the per- 
 secution which happened under the reign of Dioclesian. 
 A number of miracles are said to have marked the exe- 
 cution of St Alban, but we cannot stoop to notice such 
 contemptible forgeries. A magnificent monastery was 
 erected to his memory by Offa; king of the Mercians ; 
 
 and the town of St .Mbans borrows its name from this il- 
 lustrious martyr. While the church of Sl Albans was re- 
 pairing in 12.17, several leaden chests were found, con- 
 Uiining relics ; and on a plate of lead was the following 
 inscription: — " /« hoc mausoUo, invcntum cut venerabilc 
 corjiim Suiicti yllbani, lirolomurtijrm ylngl'jrum." (o) 
 
 ALBANI, or Aldano, Francis, a celebrated painter, 
 was the son of a silk merchant at Bologna, and was hovn 
 in that city on the 17th March, 1578. He w^s intended 
 for the profession of his father; but the attachment to 
 painting, which he showed at the age of twelve, was not 
 congenial with these commercial views. The death of 
 his father, however, left him at full liberty to prosecute 
 his favourite studies. He studied imder Dcnys Calvert 
 along with the celebrated Guide Rheni, who gave him 
 more instruction than his master, and with -whom he 
 formed the most intimate friendship. Albani followed 
 Guido to the school of the Caracci, but mutual jealousies 
 began to cool the friendship which they had contracted. 
 From the school of the Caracci, Albani went to Rome, 
 where he resided 18 years; but, in consequence of the 
 death of his wife, he was induced to return to Bologna, 
 where he married a second wife, by whom he had twelve 
 children. Albani employed his wife and children as the 
 models of Venuscs and Cupids ; but though the origi- 
 nals were well proportioned, and extremely beautiful, 
 yet, by constantly painting from them, his figures exhibit 
 too great a similarity, both in form and attitude. In the 
 retirement of one of his country houses, which v,'as ro- 
 mantically decorated with groves and fountains, he stu- 
 died the landscape scenery, with which his pictures 
 were enriched ; and in this department he displayed that 
 harmony of colouring and elegance of design, which 
 mark the productions of his pencil. One of the most 
 celebrated of Albani's pictures is his painting of the 
 Four Elements, which is preserved in the palace of Tu- 
 rin. His other principal works are at Bologna and Rome ; 
 and his cabinet pictures are to be found in most collec- 
 tions of any considerable extent. 
 
 The private character of Albani was marked by mild- 
 ness of disposition, and the most unaffected modesty. 
 He was agreeable in conversation, kind and attentive to 
 his pupils, and distinguished by all the domestic virtues. 
 Albani was favoured with visits from the most illustrious 
 painters. He was honoured with the correspondence of 
 several princes, and was invited to England by Charles I., 
 in a letter signed with his own hand. Albani lived to a 
 great age, in the full enjoyment of his faculties. He died 
 at Bologna in 1660, in the eighty-second year of his 
 age. See d'Argenville's Abrege de la Vie des Pcintres, 
 torn. i. p. 295, and Pclsina Pittrice, vol. ii, (o) 
 
 ALBANIA, the ancient name of a kingdom in Asia, 
 situated between the Euxine and Caspian seas. It is 
 now known by the names of Shirwan and East Georgia. 
 Strabo informs us, that the Albani had twenty-six differ- 
 ent languages, and as many kings and kingdoms. This 
 country was governed by its own monarchs, till it was 
 subdued by Leontius, in the reign of Justinian II. Its 
 capital was Albania, now Nias-abad, which had a well fre- 
 quented harbour, that still exists. On the south-west of 
 the city lies the defile, called by the ancients Pyls Al- 
 bania, to which the Arabs have given the name of Bab- 
 ul-abuad. (w) 
 
 ALBANIA, sometimes called Arnaut, is one of the 
 provinces of Turkey in Europe, situated on the Adriatic. 
 It is the Illyricum Gmciense of the Greeks, and the Efd^ 
 riis of the Romans, Its principal towns are Durazzo and
 
 366 
 
 ALB 
 
 ALB 
 
 Polina, anciently Dyn-uc/iium and Jjtollrjyiia. Its Icngtli 
 is 80 niiits, antl its brcatlth 20. The soil is fertile, and 
 it produces excellent wines ; and its manufacture is chief- 
 ly carpets. Malioniet II., wlio conquered this province, 
 aiuiexcd it to the Ottoman empire in 1467. Some of the 
 western part of Albania belongs to the Venetians. E. 
 Long, from 18" 34' to 21" 53'. N. l.ut. from 3y° to 43=. 
 
 (") 
 
 ALBANO, a town in Italy, in the Campagna di Roma, 
 built by Nero on the i-uins of Jlba Longa, and situated 
 on a lake of the same name. At the entrance of Albano 
 appears a mausoleum in ruins, which is said to be As- 
 canius'b tomb ; and another mausoleum about 45 feet 
 ■square, with live pyramids about 10 feet in diameter, is 
 reputed to be the tomb of the Horatii and Curiatii, 
 though some are of opinion, that it is the tomb of Pom- 
 pey. The ruins of Domitian's palace likewise is in the 
 neighbourhood of Albano. The lake of Albano is of an 
 elliptical form. It is seven nriles in circumference, and 
 is surrounded by very high mountains. The water is 
 conveyed by a canal, which is said to have been con- 
 structed about 398 years before the Christian era. The 
 Roman nobility retire during summer to Albano, which 
 is remarkable lor the excellence of its wines, and the 
 salubrity of its climate. It is 15 miles south-east of 
 Rome. E. Long. 12" 38' lo". N. Lat. 41° 45' 50''. (o) 
 
 ALBANS, St, a borough and market-town in Hert- 
 fordshire, built near the ancient Verulam, of which no- 
 thing remains but the ruins of a few walls, and earth- 
 works, where Roman coins and pottery aie frctpiently 
 found. In 795, Offa, king of the Mercians, erected a 
 monastery to St Alban, on the place where he suffered 
 martyrdom ; from which circumstance, the town that 
 was afterwards built near the spot derived its name. In 
 the church belonging to the monastery are the tombs of 
 OfFa its founder, St Alban, and Humphrey duke of 
 Gloucester. The vault which contains the tomb of the 
 duke was discovered about 80 years ago, when the body 
 was entire. An ancient fort in the neighbourhood, called 
 Oysterhills, which exists only in ruins, is supposed to 
 be the camp of Ostorius. It was at Verulam that Ca;sar 
 defeated Cassibelan, and that Boadicea massacred 70,000 
 Romans and Britons, v.ho had joined them. The mo- 
 nument of the illustrious Francis Baron, lord Veru- 
 lam, built by his secretary sir Thomas Meautys, adorns 
 the church of St Michael. Population 4304. W. Long. 
 0° 12'. N.Lat. 51° 44'. See Newcome's Hist, of Sc Al- 
 bans, (-r) 
 
 ALBANY, the capital of a county of the same name 
 in New York. The position of Albany for commerce, 
 is unrivalled, being situated at the head of a sloop navi- 
 gation in Hudson's river. Tl;e climate is healthy, the 
 surrounding coiuUry is fertile, and is watered with innu- 
 merable navigable lakes, creeks, and rivers; so that, 
 willi the contemplated improvements of canals, arches, 
 and roads, Albany will probably be one of the first towns 
 in the United States. The inhabitants are collected 
 from various parts of th.c \vorkl, and speak a variety of 
 lanp:uages, th('!'gh the English predominates. About a 
 miic tr tl'iC north of the city, are erected very ingenious 
 •ard extensive works for the manufacture of snuff, tobac- 
 co, chocokile, mustard, starch, hair-powder, split-pease, 
 and hulled barky. These works are superior to any in 
 America, and are all moved by v.atcr. In this place all 
 the treaties were transacted between the English and 
 the Irotiuois. Population, in 1797, 6021. Distance 
 from New York 160 miles north, and from Quebec 
 
 340 soL'th. West Long. 73° 30'. NoAh Lat. 42" 39'i 
 
 ALBATEGNI, a celel)rated astronomical observer, 
 was born about the middle of the ninth century, at ISata7i 
 in Mesopotamia; from whence he received the name of 
 Albatani, or Albategni. In the year 882, he observed 
 that the autunmal equinox was, on the 19th September, 
 at 13h. 15', at Aracta, or Ruca, a town of Chaldea. Ill 
 883, he found the longitude of the 1st star of Aries, to 
 be 18° 2'; the obliquity of the ecliptic, lo be 23° 35'; 
 and the motion of the earth's aphelion and that of the 
 stars, one degree in 70 years. He also ascertained the 
 eccentricity of the earth's orbit. The imperfections of 
 the astronomical tables of Ptolemy induced Albategni 
 to compute new ones, which he adapted to the meridian 
 of Aracta. His work, entitled, "The Science of the 
 Stars," founded on his own observations, as well as those 
 ol Ptolemy, was translated into Latin from the original 
 Arabic, which lies unpublished in the Vatican, by Plato 
 of Tibur. It was published at Nuremberg in 1537, 
 with some additions, by Regiomontanus, and was repub- 
 lished at Bologna in 1695, with annotations by the same 
 author. Albategni died in 888. See /"//(/. /"ra/is. 1693, 
 No. 204; and D'Herbelol's Biblioth. Oriint. {iv) 
 
 ALBEGAL, the Arabian name of the star Lyra. 
 
 ALBERES, Battle of, was fought in 1784, be- 
 tween the French and Spaniards, in which the former, 
 under general Dugommier, beat the latter, and took 
 from them 200 pieces of cannon, and 2000 men. (w) 
 
 ALBERONI, Cardinal, an illustrious statesman, 
 was born in 1644, at Placentia, where he followed the 
 profession of a gardener till the age of 14. In consequence 
 of having relieved the secretary of the duke of Ven- 
 dom.e, who was i-obbed near the village where Alberoni 
 resided, he was patronized by that distinguished general, 
 and induced to accompany him to Spain. In that coun- 
 try his talents and ambition advanced him to notice. 
 Having planned and effected a marriage between the 
 princess of Parma and Philip V., the princess took a 
 deep interest in his promotion, and had sufficient influ- 
 ence to procure him the dignities of Cardinal and Arch- 
 bishop of Valencia ; from which he rose to tlie office of 
 prime minister to the king of Spain. After having effect- 
 ed some new arrangements and domestic reforms, and 
 exerted every nerve to regenerate the Spanish navv, his 
 anibilious and intriguing spirit projected the most en- 
 terprising designs; and directed the eyes of Europe to 
 the Spanish nation, which had for more than a centuiy 
 been sunk in the most torpid lethargy. He projected an 
 expedition against Sicily and Sardinia; and, in order lo 
 accomplish his purpose without opposition, he entered 
 into a strict alliance with Peter the Great, Charles XII.. 
 and the Ottoman government'. He likewise proposed to 
 
 *As early as 1610 the Dutch advanced as far up 
 the Hudson as where the city of Albany is situated, and 
 about the same time erected a fortification which they 
 called Fort Orange. The city of Albany is nearly of the 
 same date as New York. It was incorporated by go- 
 vernor Uougan in 1686, and is now under the jurisdic- 
 tion of a mayor, aldermen, and assistants. There are :i 
 number of public buildings in this city ; among the prin- 
 cipal of which may be mentioned the capital, the bank, 
 and scvei-al houses for public worship. Present popula- 
 tion in 1810, 9356 inhabitants. Hosack k. FsAxciSi
 
 ALB 
 
 ALB 
 
 ->G7 
 
 employ the influence of these two powerful nionarclis 
 in raisini; tlie Pretender to tlie throne of Enjijlund — to 
 wrest the regency of France from the hands of the duke 
 of Orleans— to excite the Turks against the emperor of 
 Germany — and to destroy the German power in Italy. 
 The discovery of these daring projects produced a 
 coalition against Spain, between France and England. 
 War was declared in 1719 ; and the condition of peace 
 insisted upon by the allies was the banishment of Al- 
 beroni. In December 1720, he received an order to quit 
 the metropolis in twenty-four hours, and not to remain 
 above a fortnight in the kingdom. Alberoni retired from 
 Madrid in the greatest opulence, carrying along with 
 him the testament of Charles II. of Spain, which appoint- 
 ed Philip universal heir of the monarchy. This circum- 
 stance was not discovered till two days after his depar- 
 ture ; but messengers being immediately despatched, 
 the testament was taken from him by force. When he 
 arrived at Genoa, he was arrested by the Pope, under 
 the charge of carrying on a negotiation with the sublime 
 Porte ; and was confined for a year in the convent of the 
 Jesuits Upon his acquittal from this accusation, his 
 intriguing spirit again began to display itself, but receiv- 
 ed a check in the unsuccessful enterprise which he 
 planned against the small republic of Si Marino. The 
 approach of old age, combined with the reverses of for- 
 tune which he liad sustained, now began to moderate his 
 ambition. He directed his attention to the more laudable 
 object of establishing and endowing a seminary in his 
 native city for the education of the poor. He took great 
 pleasure in reciting the exploits in which he had been 
 engaged; and the vivacity of his tempci", and the extent 
 of his information, rendered him on these occasions ex- 
 ceedingly amusing. He died in 1752, at the great age 
 of 87. Alberoni was of an irascible temper, and could 
 not brook contradiction. He has left Ijehiud him the 
 character of a daring and unprincipled politician. His 
 life to the year 1719 has been published by John Rousset, 
 translated from the Spanish. His Tesfametit Politiijue, 
 published at Lausanne in 1753, is generally considered 
 as spurious. See Conthuiation de Renault. Hist Aom. i. p. 
 48. Universal Hist. \o\. x.xxii. p. 565. vol. xxxviii. p. 232. 
 
 ALBERT I. and II., dukes of Austria, and Emper- 
 ors of Germany. See Mid. Uiiivers. Hist. vol. xxvi. p. 
 130,273 ; see also Austria, and Germany, (w) 
 
 ALHERTUS MAGNUS, or Albert the Great, 
 one of the most celebrated alchemists, was born in Swa- 
 bia, at Lawingen on the Danube, about 1195, or 1205. 
 After receiving his education at Pavia, he went to Paris, 
 where he was created doctor of medicine. Haviiig ac- 
 cidentally heard the preaching of Father Jourdain, a 
 Dominican friar, he was inclined to enter into that or- 
 der ; and so prominent were the talents of their new 
 convert, that his superior sent him to Cologne to read 
 lectures on philosophy, theology, and medicine. Here he 
 acquitted himself to the astonishment of numerous au- 
 ditories ; and so zealous was he in his new office, that 
 he read lectures also at Hildesheim,Fribourg, Ratisbon, 
 and Strasburg. Ho returned to Cologne in 1240, and 
 numbered among his disciples the celebrated Thomas 
 Aquinas, to whom he resigned his chair, when he went 
 to be a professor at Paris. After remaining three years 
 at Paris where his lectures were so numerously attend- 
 ed that he was obliged to deliver them in the open air, 
 he returned to Cologne, and was raised to the dignity 
 of provincial, or vicar-gencral of the Doiniaican order. 
 
 Having visited the Vovinces in a pedestrian tour, he 
 went to Rome at the command of Alexander IV. Here 
 he held the high ollice of master of the sacred palace ; 
 and also read lectures in divinity. He leturned to Ger- 
 many in 1260, and was created bishop of Ratisljon ; but 
 he resigned this oHice, after holding it three years, and 
 returned to his cell at Cologne. I'rom this retirement, 
 Albert was summoned by the pope, to preach the cru- 
 sades in Germany and Bohemia ; and he attended the 
 council of Lyons, in the character of the emperor's am- 
 bassador. The remainder of his life seems to have 
 been spent in instructing the religious of his order in 
 Cologne, where he died on the I5th November, 1288, at 
 the age of 75, or 87. His works, which are filled with 
 scholastic subtilities, and the philosophy of the Peripa- 
 tetics, were published at Lyons, in 1615, in 21 volumes 
 folio, by Father Jammi. The treatise Dc Secrclis ATu- 
 licruin, is'c, generally ascribed to him, was written by 
 one of his disciples, Hcnricus de Saxonia. He wrote a 
 work entitled, De S/iluera, de .Osiris, de .istroiiomia, item 
 i>/ieciilum Jtstronomicum. 
 
 Albertus Magnus was a man of short stature, but of 
 a great and comprehensive mind. The superiority of 
 his genius obtained him the appellation of a magician 
 and a conjurer, names which, though dishonourable in 
 the estimation of those who employed them, posterity 
 have found to have been ajiplied only to men of trans- 
 cendent talents. He was regarded by the alchemists 
 as one of the most illustrious of their sect; and was 
 celebrated among them for having discovered that there 
 were several philosopher's stones. He is said to have 
 contrived an androide.^, or speaking figure, which both 
 pronounced words distinctly, and opened the door to 
 those who knocked : but the stories, which have been 
 related concerning this machine, and respecting several 
 adventures of our author, are so truly ridiculous, that 
 we cannot be the means of perpetuating their remem- 
 brance. See Bullart. .Icademie dcs Sciences, tom. ii. p 
 145. (o) 
 
 ALBI, a town in Italy, formerly called .4l6a J''uce>iiis. 
 From its iTiountainous situation, it was chosen by the 
 Romans as their state prison, in which they confined 
 their captive monarchs, afier they had sustained the 
 ignominy of a public triumph. The remains of the for- 
 tification, w'hich increased the securitv that art had 
 given it, are still visible ; and likev. ise the ruins of an 
 amphitheatre, a temple, and other public building. Sec 
 Swinburne's Travels, vol. iv. p. 367. (;;) 
 
 ALBI, or Alby, a town in France, the capital of the 
 department of Tarn. It is situated on an eminence on 
 the banks of the river Tarn ; and is remarkable for the 
 choir of its cathedral, and the silver shrines of mosaic 
 workmanship, which contained the relics of St Clair, the 
 first bishop of the place. The diocese of AIbi contains 
 three chapters and 337 parishes; and the revenue of 
 the archbishop is 20,000 livres. It was formerly tlie 
 capital of the small district of Albigeois, and has the 
 honour of giving birth to La Peyrouse, the celebrated 
 navigator. Population 9649. E. Long. 2" 8' 18". N. 
 Lat. 43" 55' 36". See Ai.bigenses, and Tars, (tu) 
 
 ALBIGENSES, in Church History, the name of a 
 religious party, distinguisiied by their opposition to the 
 church of Rome. 
 
 Is is very difficult to ascertain either their origin or 
 their opinions. As to their origin, Mosheim maintains, 
 that they were Paulicians, who, flying from the persecu- 
 tions of the Creeks, gradually spread themselves over
 
 368 
 
 ALli 
 
 ALB 
 
 the soiilli ol' Europe, but settled chiefly in tlic south ol' 
 r'rancc ; and tliey were denominated J/higenses, IVoni 
 Albi, in Latin Jtbigia, in Langucdoc ; not, it seems, be- 
 cause that was the chief place of their residence, but be- 
 cause their opinions were condemned in a council held 
 there in the year 1176. The chief argument in favour 
 of this origin of the name, arises from the circumstance, 
 that they never were known by that appellation till af- 
 ter the council held at Albi ; though it must be confessed 
 that this etymology is disputed by some, who refer it to 
 Albigensium, formerly the general name of Narbonne- 
 Gaul, where the Albigenses had their chief settlements. 
 Vide Histoire Gcnemle de Languedoc, torn. iii. note 13. 
 p. 552. 
 
 But allowing this to be the origin of the sect, and of 
 its designation, we are still as far as ever from being 
 able to ascertain the pecvdiar tenets by which it was 
 distinguished. Of the Paulicians, we have nothing but 
 the most imperfect account, and that too from the writ- 
 ings of their adversaries, who, we may believe, would 
 give an exaggerated statement of their errors, and throw 
 a shade over their virtues. Six heavy charges arc 
 brought against them by the orthodox writers of those 
 days ; the principal of which are, that they denied this 
 inferior and visible world to be the production of the 
 Supreme Being ; that they showed contempt for the 
 Virgin Mary, for the cross, and for the sacraments. 
 These, with other errors imputed to the Paulicians, 
 may be collected from Photius, Petrus Siculus, and 
 Cedrcnus ; and they agree pretty well with the charges 
 brought against the Albigenses by their enemies ; for 
 they are universally accused of Manicheism ; which the 
 first of the Paulician tenets, as stated above, evidently 
 implies. It is probable, however, that this odious charge 
 ■was fixed upon them by their adversaries, with a view 
 to bring their opinions into discredit; and that the chief 
 heresies of which they were guilty were, denying the 
 Pope's supremacy, and laughing at purgatory, and the 
 seven sacraments. These were charges which they 
 never attempted to evade ; and as nothing could render 
 them so obnoxious to the Roman hierarchy, we need not 
 be surprised at the invectives and misrepresentations 
 with which they are loaded by the supporters of that 
 spiritual despotism. They are represented as maintain- 
 ing marriage to be unlawful ; the amount of which 
 charge is, in all probability, no more than this, that they 
 denied marriage to be a sacrament. They are also ac- 
 cused of holding the eucharist in abhorrence, probably 
 because they rejected it in the form of transubstantia- 
 tion. Accordingly, most Protestant writers maintain, 
 that the opinions of the Albigenses were nearly the same 
 as those afterwards adopted by the reformers ; and it is 
 certain, that all of those who remained till the time of 
 the Reformation, readily embraced the doctrines and dis- 
 cipline which it introduced. 
 
 But the term Albigenses was very generally used in 
 a much more extensive sense than that which we have 
 now assigned to it, and was employed to denote every 
 description of heretics ; that is, all, of whatever denom- 
 ination, who dissented from the church of Rome. This 
 we learn from Pctrua Sarnensis, who in the dedication 
 of his history of the Albigenses to Innocent III., ex- 
 presses himself thus : " Tolcsani aliaruin cruitatmn et 
 castrorum hxretici, et defensoren eorum, generaliter Al- 
 bigenses z>ocan/iir." This circumstance renders it next 
 to impossible to ascertain the precise opinions of the 
 Albigenses ; since all who differed from the church of 
 
 Rome, however much they might differ from each 
 other, were comprehended under this denomination. 
 This may also account for the great variety of appella- 
 tions by which the Albigenses were known ; for they 
 were called by different authors, Henricians, Abelardists, 
 Catharests, Publicans, and Bulgarians ; either on ac- 
 count of the persons who patronized them, the cha- 
 racter they assumed, or the country from which they 
 came. They are also frequently confounded with the 
 Waldenscs. 
 
 The Albigenses were persecuted with the utmost 
 fury by the church of Rome. A crusade was proclaim- 
 ed against them, in the name of the Pope ; and, in the 
 year 1209, a formidable army, commanded by the 
 famous, Simon, earl of Montford, was led into the field 
 against them. This war, distinguished by the intrepid 
 bravery and unparalleled barljarity with which it was 
 conducted on the part of the commander in chief, 
 ended in the complete discomfiture of the Albigenses, 
 and in the ruin of the Counts of Toulouse, who support- 
 ed them. See Hume's Hist. vol. ii. p. 70. chap. ix. 
 Velley's ^'fiu Hi/it. of France. Mosheim's Church His- 
 tory, (g) 
 
 ALBINO, a term which appears to have been first 
 employed by the Portuguese, to designate a variety of 
 the human species that occurs among the negroes, the 
 peculiarity of which consists in the hair and skin being 
 perfectly white, while, in every circumstance except 
 colour, these persons exactly resemble the other natives 
 of Africa. We are informed by Wafer, who accompanied 
 Dampier in his voyage round the world, that the same 
 variety is occasionally found among the Indians who 
 inhabit the isthmus of Darien : and Albinos are also 
 described as occurring among the natives of Java and 
 Ceylon. The skin of the Albino is, as the name imports, 
 literally white, approaching to the colour of milk, or to 
 that of a recently dead body, without that intermixture 
 of red which is found in the complexion of the European. 
 Another peculiarity of the Albinos is the state of the 
 eye, which is so sensible to light that they are scarcely 
 able to keep it open in the sunshine ; although in the 
 shade, or in the dark of the evening, their vision seems 
 to be sufficiently perfect. In different parts of Africa 
 and America, the Albinos are so numerous, that some 
 persons have imagined them to be a distinct race of men, 
 who have been accidentally removed from their original 
 climate, and intermixed with the negroes. But the 
 opinion which on every account seems more probable 
 is, that this peculiar colour of the skin depends upon a 
 morbid condition of the body, induced by some cause 
 hitherto undiscovered. . The proof of this is indeed 
 complete, for Albinos are known to be bom from parents 
 whose skin has nothing unusual in its appearance. 
 
 Individuals are occasionally observed in our quarter 
 of the world to whom the title of Albino is applied, and 
 who possess nearly the same relation to the European 
 that the African Albino does to his countrymen. The 
 European Albino has nothing peculiar in his features, or 
 in the foitnation of his body ; but his skin is of the most 
 delicate hue, his hair is white and silky, the coloured 
 part of the eye is of a beautiful pink colour ; and, like the 
 African Albinos, they are unable to bear a bright light. 
 The skin of the European Albino does not, however, ex- 
 hibit that perfect whiteness which is described in the 
 African ; nor does it appear that he has necessarily any- 
 general weakness of constitution, or deficiency of 
 strength. It has been observed, that males are the
 
 ALB 
 
 ALB 
 
 369 
 
 most frequent subjects of this disease, if it may be so call- 
 ed ; and some writers have gone so far as to assert, that it 
 is exclusively confined to them. But this opinion is cer- 
 tainty incorrect ; as there arc some well known instances 
 of female Albinos, although it is not improbable that the 
 males may be more numerous. 
 
 Many attempts have been made to account for this 
 peculiarity. Iluffon attributes it to a tendency in the 
 human species to assume, what he calls " the primitive 
 " colour of nature ; which climate, nourishment, and man- 
 ners, alter and change to yellow, brown, or black ; and 
 ■which reappears in certain circumstances, but with so 
 great an alteration, that it does not resemble the primi- 
 tive white. As a proof that Albinos are " individuals 
 who are degenerated from their species," he remarks, 
 tluU they arc uniformly deficient in strength and vigour, 
 and exhibit every mark of a relaxed and debilitated con- 
 stitution. He farther observes, tliat white animals, par- 
 ticularly those that have red eyes, are more weak and 
 delicate than others of the same species. We have a 
 very accurate account given by Saussure of two Albinos 
 that were born at Chamouin in Switzerland. These 
 young men had the white skin and hair, and the rose- 
 coloured eye ; their sight was delicate ; and they seem 
 to have been unable to go through the same degree of 
 labour with those persons of the same age and condition 
 in life. Saussure, like Buffon, considers this affection 
 as a kind of organic weakness of the body ; and supposes 
 that the eye has its vessels so relaxed, as to permit the 
 red globules of the blood to enter into it in an unusual 
 quantity. These, however, are but hasty hypotheses, 
 and cannot be considered as throwing any real light 
 upon the subject. It is to an ingenious conjecture of 
 professor Blumenbach that we owe our knowledge of 
 the peculiarity in the eye of the Albino. He ascribed 
 its pink colour, and its delicate sensibility, to the absence 
 of the pigmentum nigrum, a black mucous substance 
 which is spread over the iris and choroid coat. This 
 conjecture was verified by Buzzi of Milan, who had an 
 opportunity of dissecting the eye of an Albino, and found 
 it to correspond with Blumenbach's supposition. He at 
 the same time examined the skin, and discovered that 
 it was devoid of that part which is usually called the 
 rete mucosum ; and to the absence of this substance he 
 justly attributes its whiteness. There is reason to con- 
 clude, that the peculiar state of the skin which charac- 
 terizes the Albino, is an affection which has a tendency 
 to become hereditary ; for among the instances which 
 are upon record, several have been members of the 
 same family. What it is in the constitution or habits 
 of the parent, which gives rise to this peculiarity in their 
 offspring, is totally unknown. Albinos have been born 
 in different countries and climates, and under circum- 
 stances which have no point of resemblance to which 
 ve can with any probability refer the phenomenon. The 
 knowledge which we possess respecting the animal 
 economy, does not enable us to form the most remote 
 conjecture concerning the operation of any cause, which 
 should so far affect the skin, as to deprive it of its rete 
 mucosum ; but it is analogous to other facts which fall 
 under our observation, that when this structure has once 
 taken place, it should be propagated by hereditary de- 
 scent. 
 
 The circumstances which have been ascertained re- 
 specting the Albino, decidedly prove, that the various 
 shades of the complexion, which characterize the inha- 
 bitants of different climates, depend upon the colour of 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 the rete mucosum, and that wiiliout it the skin is nearly 
 white. They also admirably ilhistrate the use of thi- 
 pigmentum nigrum of the eye, Ijy showing the incon- 
 venience under which those persons labour who art 
 unprovided with that substance. See /•"/;//. Trans. 1706, 
 17o7, vol. XXV. Soemmering Iconcs Oculi llumani. p. 6. 
 Buffon's Hint. A''ci/. tom. iii. Saussure's Voyagrs dans les- 
 Allien, ch. 47. Nicholson's Journal, vol. xix. p. Bl. vol. 
 xxi. 203. Dapper's Discriplion de rjfrique,,-a. 332. See 
 also Anatomy chap. ii. p. 792, col. 2. (a) 
 
 ALBINUS, Bernard SiEri?RED, or Siegfkoi, one 
 of tlie most eminent of the foreign anatomists, and pro- 
 fessor of anatomy and surgery at Leyden, was born a( 
 Frankfort upon the Oder, iii the year 1698. He recei- 
 ved the first part of his education at Leyden, where his 
 father, Bernard Albinus Weiss, was professor of medi- 
 cine : and in very early life he showed an uncommoii 
 attachir.ent to the studies which he afterwards prosecuted 
 with so much success. His diligence and zeal, as wcl! 
 as his undivided attention to anatomical pursuits, gained 
 him the friendship of Ruysch, who then llourislicd in 
 Leyden. Under the notice of that distinguished man, 
 and the guidance of Raw, the celebrated lithotomist, 
 Albinus made such progress in his favourite studies, 
 that the latter is said never to have undertaken any 
 operation of consequence, without inviting him to be 
 present. This encouragement was great, and it was not 
 without its effect. The young Albinus persevered in his 
 investigations, and redoubled his diligence : and it is 
 perhaps owing to the timely patronage of Ruysch and 
 of Raw that the medical world is now in possession of 
 the " Historia Musculorum Hoininis," and the various 
 Tabulx which have contributed so much to facilitate the 
 study of anatomy in every country of Europe. Having 
 finished his education at Leyden, Albinus removed to 
 Paris, and attended the most eminent lecturers and de- 
 monstrators in that city. But he had scarcely been there 
 a year, when, upon the recommendation of Bocrhaave, 
 he was appointed first lecturer and then professor of 
 anatomy and surgery in the university of Leyden. He 
 was admitted into his office A. D. 1718, and delivered 
 an inaugural oration, " De Anatome Comfiarata" which 
 was received with universal applause. 
 
 When settled at Leyden, Albinus devoted himself 
 exclusively to those branches of medical science which 
 he had engaged to teach. In surgery, and especially 
 in anatomy, more can be done by patient inspection and 
 minute examination, than in any other department of 
 human knowledge. Here genius has little room for ex- 
 ercise. The chief business of the anatomist is to dissect, 
 and to observe ; to mark the designs of nature, and the 
 wonderful adaptation of means to the accomplishment 
 of her purposes. But to the qualities which are neces- 
 sary for this, the teacher of anatomy must add the power 
 of exhibiting the different parts of the body, and thei;- 
 uses and dependencies, or the talent of communicating 
 to others the information which he has acquired. On 
 this his success as a lecturer will materially depend ; 
 and without it, his knowledge, however extensive and 
 accurate, will be of little use to any but himself For 
 all these qualities Albinus was remarkable. His dili- 
 gence was unwearied ; and though we have not learned 
 that he was distinpuished by the fluency of his expres- 
 sion, or the oratorical elegance of his style, yet his abi- 
 lities as a demonstrator were such as to place him on a 
 level with the most successful teachers of anatomy. Nor 
 did he confine himself to the exercise of private instruc- 
 3 A
 
 70 
 
 ALB 
 
 ALB 
 
 tion. He aspired after more general utility, and a high- 
 er degree of fame. Besides many other works with 
 which, says Haller, " rem aiiatomkum diiavit," Albinus 
 published, A. D. 1734, the Historia Musculorum Homi- 
 7ii.t ; a pcilormancc which is alone suiTicient to entitle 
 him to immortality. It is divided into four books : In 
 the iirst, he treats of the muscles in general, of their 
 structure, and of the cellular substance which lubr.cates 
 and supports them ; in the second, he considers their 
 position, beginning with those which are nearest the 
 surface ; in the third book, he describes the muscles 
 individually, and attends to their origm, the direction of 
 thcii fibres, and their insertion; and in the last, he 
 arranges them into classes, and takes a view of their 
 action and use. The chief works of Albinus, however, 
 are his Anatomical Plates and Illustrations. They appear- 
 ed at diil'erent times, as the reader will see by the list 
 •which is subjoined to this article ; but they are comnion- 
 ly to be met wiih in 3 vols, folio. The first contains, an 
 explication of llie Tables of Eustachius; the second 
 presents to us the Figures of the Muscles ; and the third 
 exhibits the Bones. The plates are executed with llie 
 utmost accuracy and elegance, and are unquestionably 
 the most useful of any to which the student of anatomy 
 can have recourse. 
 
 In 1745, Albinus was removed from the professorship 
 of anatomy to that of medicine in the same university ; 
 and in the former of these offices he was succeeded by 
 Fred. Bern. Albinus, his brother. His reputation was 
 now so great and extensive, that the societies of London, 
 Petersburgh, and Haarlem, received him into the num- 
 ber of their associates. He was twice rector of tlie 
 university of Lcyden ; and he as often declined that high 
 honour when it would have been conferred upon him. 
 But he did not suffer these creditable testimonies of his 
 merits to relax his diligence, or abridge the time which 
 he had devoted to study ; his mind was bent towards the 
 improvement of medical science, and his zeal to promote 
 it was never diminished. He still prosecuted his inqui- 
 ries with all the vigour of youth, and with all the activity 
 of one whose reputation is not yet established. It was 
 only two years before his death that lie published the 
 last volume of his anatomical annotations. At length, 
 worn out with study, and full of days, he expired on the 
 9th September, 1770. 
 
 The following is a list of the works of Albinus, in the 
 order in which they appeared. Oratio. inaug. de Anato- 
 mc comfiarata. LeidiE. 1719. Oratio de vera -via que ad 
 fabric X corfi. Inun. cognitionem ducit. Leid. 1721. Index 
 sujifielUclilis Anatomicx quam Academix (Leidensi) lega- 
 vit, J. J. Raw, Leid. 1725. De Ossibics corfi. hum. ad 
 auditorrs suos, Leid. 1726. Hist. Muscul. Horn. Leid. 
 1735. " C'est le meilleur ouvrage (says Portal,) dont 
 nous jouissons aujourdhui." De Arleriin et Venis intes- 
 tinorum hominin, Leid. 1737. " Un chef d'oeuvre, (accord- 
 ing to Portal) de peinturc et d'exactitude. Di-nsert. Ida, 
 de scde et causa coloris JEthiofium., etc. Leid. 1 757. Icones 
 Ossium fcetus /ntmani : accedit ostevgenice brenis historia, 
 Leid. 1737. "Ad miraculum pulchrae sunt," (Haller.) 
 Jixfilicatio Tabid. Anat. B. Eustachii, Leid. 1743 et 1761. 
 Tabulx Scelc/i et Muscul. corfi. Hum. Leid. 1747. Tabulx 
 VII. Uteri ISIutieris gravida:, cum jam fiarturiret mortua, 
 Leid. fere 1747, et Apfi. ad Tab. I. A. D. 1751. Tabula 
 Fasis Chijlifcri, cum vena azygo, arteriis intcrcostalibus, 
 aliisqiie vicinis fiarlibus. 'Leid. 1757. De Sccleto hu?nano, 
 Leid. 1762. Annotat. Anatom., volumina octo ; quorum 
 pvimum prodiit A. D. 1752, etultimum A. D. 1768, Leid. 
 
 Besides these, he wrote a preface to the works of 
 Vesaliub, and a Life of that Anatomist, (Leyden 1725.) 
 He edited likewise the Works of Harvey and of Fabri- 
 cius, ab Aquafiendent: , (Leyden 1737), and wrote a pre- 
 face to each — See Haller. Bibliothecu Anatom. torn. ii. 
 p. 126, et seq. Histoire de I'Anatomie ei de la Chirurgif, 
 fiar I-'ortalitom. iv. p. 548, et iieq. Hutchinson's Jiiogra- 
 fihia Med. vol. ii. p. 525. addend. (A) 
 
 ALBION, a word of uncertain etymology, which was 
 formerly the name of the island of Britain. The name 
 of AV'TO Albion has been given by sir Francis Drake to 
 California, and part of the north-west coast of America. 
 This country was visited on the 7th March, 1778, by 
 captain Cooke, by Mearcs, Dixon, Vancouver, La Pey \ 
 rouse, and other able navigators, and more recently by 
 Mackenzie, who was the first that visited the Pacific by 
 an inland journey from the east. See Cooke's Voyagea, 
 Vancouver's Voyage of Discovery to the North Pacific 
 Ocean, in 1798, and Califounia. (to) 
 
 ALBIREO, the name of a star in the constellation 
 Cygiius, marked /3 in our catalogues, {iv) 
 
 ALBiS, the ancient name of the Elbe. See Tacitus 
 Annul, iv. cap. 44, and Elbe, (w) 
 
 ALBIS, a mountain in Switzerland, covered with ex- 
 cellent pasture and extensive forests. It stretches over 
 a lengtii of five leagues, from the frontiers ot the canton 
 01 Zug to the city ot Zurich. See Reichard's Guide des 
 Voyagcurs, tom. i. p. 365. (t) 
 
 ALBOIN, a king of the Lombards. Having slain the 
 son of Turisund, king of the Gepidse, when fighting 
 under the banners of his father Audoin,' the Lombards 
 requested that Alboin should be permitted to sit at the 
 royal feast, by which the victory was to be commemo- 
 rated. But, as this was contrary to the custom of the 
 country, till the young prince should be invested with 
 arms by a foreign king, Alboin set out with 40 of his 
 companions to visit the court of Turisund. At the en- 
 tertainment prepared for the occasion, Alboin occupied 
 the seat of the prince, whom he had slain in battle. This 
 circumstance awakened the feelings of the father ; and 
 his surviving son Cuiiismund, with the other Gepidae, 
 who perceived his agitation, determined to be revenged 
 upon the Lombard prince. They addressed their visiters 
 in the language of reproach and contumely. The Gepidse 
 sprung from their seats at tlie appointed signal. The 
 young hero and his brave associates grasped their swords; 
 but the rising tumult was Instantly assuaged by the in- 
 terference of Turisund, who generously dismissed Al- 
 boin with the blood-stained arms of tlie prince whom he 
 had slain. 
 
 When Alboin succeeded to the throne, he asked in 
 marriage the beautiful Rosamond, the daughter of Cu- 
 nismund, who now swayed the sceptre of the Gepidae. 
 This request being refused, the Lombard king, with the 
 assistance of the Avars, overturned the kingdom of the 
 Gepidae in 566 ; and Cunismund having fallen in battle, 
 his fair daughter became the prize, and afterwards the 
 wife, of her victorious lover. Having relinquished 
 these territories to the Avars, who promised to restore 
 them, in the event of misfortunes, the Lombards attacked 
 Italy, and made themselves masters of the whole coun- 
 try, from the mountains of Trent to the gates of Raven- 
 na and Rome, which henceforth became the kingdom of 
 the conquerors. 
 
 In a feast at Verona, given by Alboin to his fellow-sol- 
 diers, a cup, formed of the skull of Cunismund, was in- 
 troduced upon the table. The brutal and unfeeling Lorn-
 
 ALB 
 
 bard placed k in the hands of Rosamond. She touched 
 the sacred cup wiUi trembling lips, which at the same 
 instant muttered vengeance against licr savage lord. 
 After some fruitless attempts to procure an accomplice, 
 slic selected Peredcus, one of the Lombard chiefs ; but 
 found it necessary to employ art to secure his assistance. 
 Rosamond secretly supplied the pl:\ce of one of Pere- 
 deus's mistresses, and then assured her deceived com- 
 panion, that either his death, or that of Alboin, must be 
 the consequence of their criminal indulgence. Pere- 
 deus did not hesitate about the alternative which he was 
 to choose. He introduced the assassin into the chamber 
 of his master : Alboin starting from his sleep, attempted 
 to draw his sword, but Rosamond had secured it hi the 
 scabbard ; and the Lombard king, with only a stool to de- 
 fend him, fell by the spears of his murderers, A. D.573. 
 Thus it is, that domestic treachery, or female revenge, 
 often humbles the tyrants, who have forced the hearts, 
 or insulted the honour of their helpless captives. See 
 Univers. Hist. vol. xvii. p. 337. Gibbon, vol. viii. p. 107. 
 chap. 44. Giannone, Hist, de A'ri/i/es, liv. iii. cap. 4. (o) 
 ALBOURG. See Aalbourg. 
 
 ALBUCA, a genus of plants of the class Hexandria, 
 and order Monogynia. See Botany, (to) 
 
 ALBUCASIS, a celebrated Arabian physician, of 
 whom little more is known, than that he died in 1106. 
 His work, entitled J\ledendi Mt-thodus, isfc. was publish- 
 ed in Arabic and Latin, at Oxford, in 1778, by MrChan- 
 ning. See Haller, Biblioth. Surg. vol. i. p. 137, and His- 
 tory o/ Surgery, under that article, (o) 
 
 ALBUGO, or Leucoma, in surgery, is a disease of 
 the eye, arising from a white spot upon the cornea, 
 which does not transmit the incident rays. See War- 
 drop's Jissays on the Alorbid Anatomy of the Human 
 JEye. {ii>) 
 
 ALBUM, a register, or white board in which the 
 names of public offices and public transactions were en- 
 tered, (w) 
 
 ALBUMEN, one of the constituent parts of animal 
 and vegetable substances, received its name from being 
 found in birds' eggs, of which it forms what is generally 
 called the white. See Ann. de C/iimie, tom. xxix. ; 
 Fourcroy's Systeme des Connaiss. Chimirjue, tom. viii. 9 ; 
 Mr Hatchet's valuable paper in the Phil. Trans, vol. xc. ; 
 and Chemistry, (w) 
 
 ALBUQUERQUE, Alphonso De, called by his 
 countrymen Albuyuerque the Great, was born in 1452, 
 and was governor of the Portuguese territories in the 
 East Indies, which he widely extended by his victories. 
 In 1 S 1 1 , he reduced and burnt Calicut with a fleet of 30 
 ships ; and Goa, Malacca, and Ormuz, surrendered to 
 his arms. Albuquerque had formed several extensive 
 projects respecting the transportation of Eastern com. 
 modities to Europe ; but he did not live to accomplish 
 them. The boundless ambition of this general induced 
 him to solicit from the king of Portugal a grant of Goa, 
 with the title of a dutchy, as a reward for his services ; 
 but the enemies of Albviquerque rendered this request a 
 mean for exciting the king's jealousy, and he was dis- 
 missed from the office of governor. He died at Goa on 
 the 16th December 1515, at the age of 63. 
 
 Albuquerque was distinguished by the generous libe- 
 rality of his disposition. He was a man of the greatest 
 temperance and abstemiousness, and of the strictest 
 honour; but his rigid adherence to justice, the severity 
 of his discipline, and his insatiable ambition, raised a 
 crowd of enemies., who succeeded in alienating the af- 
 
 ALC 
 
 371 
 
 fcctions of an ungrateful sovcriign. See Mod. Univ. 
 Hist. vol. viii. p. 43. (tt) 
 
 ALBURNUM, a white soft substance, intermediate, 
 both in position and in texture, to the bark and the wood 
 of trees ; or it is the inner layer of the bark, which has 
 not yet attained the solidity of the wood. See Mr 
 Knight's valuable papers on this subject in the laic 
 volumes of the Phit. Trans,, m\A Botany, (to) 
 ^ ALCA, a genus of birds, arranged by Linnjeus and 
 Cuvier under the order Anseres, and forming one of the 
 tribes in the family of Brachypteres of Cuvier. Sec 
 Ornithology, (jiv) 
 
 ALCAEUS, an eminent Grecian lyric poet, was born 
 at Mitylene, in the island of Lesbos, an island remarka- 
 ble in ancient times for the fertility of its soil, the excel- 
 lence of its wines, the beauty of its wonien, and the ce- 
 lebrity of its musicians and poets. This author flourish- 
 ed about 600 years before Christ, and was contempo- 
 rary with Pittacus, tyrant of Mitylene, and with the 
 celebrated Sappho. Strabo, xiii. 617. 
 
 Alcaeus may justly bo ranked among the number of 
 those unfortunate authors, who once filled the civilized 
 World with their fame, and of whom, to our regret, time 
 has preserved little more than their names. Besides 
 the cultivation of poetry, he practised music, and devo- 
 ted himself to the military profession. His exertions, 
 in the two first-mentioned capacities, seem however to 
 have been more praise-worthy, at least more successful, 
 than his conduct as a warrior ; for Herodotus informs 
 us, that he threw away his arms and fled, in a battle 
 gained over the Lesbians by the Athenians, who after- 
 wards suspended his armour in the temple of Minerva, 
 at Ligaeum. {Herod. \. v. c. 95.) He appears to have 
 lived in constant enmity with Pittacus, whom he haras- 
 sed with the most bitter invectives ; but, upon being 
 taken prisoner by the tyrant, he was treated with much 
 clemency, and set at liberty. Val. Max. 1. iv. c. 6. ex- 
 tern. 6. 
 
 The productions of this poet, which we have reason to 
 believe were pretty numerous, have all perished, except- 
 ing a few fragments. They are said to have been wan- 
 tonly destroyed, along with many other exquisite mor- 
 sels of antiquity, by the Greek ecclesiastics of the early 
 ages, whose sordid envy of such inimitable models of 
 composition prompted them to annihilate, what they 
 despaired of being able to equal; and who endeavoured 
 to conceal their true motives under the mask of moral 
 purity and religious zeal. See Moore's Rem. on Ana- 
 creon, p. 24. et. seq. 
 
 Alcaeus appears to have been one of the most accom- 
 plished lyiic poets of all antiquity. He composed many 
 amatory and bacchanalian songs, in the style and charac- 
 ter of the times : 
 
 Liberum, et Musas, Veneremque, et illi 
 Semper hsrentem puerum canebat. 
 
 HoRAT. Carm. i.32. 
 
 But these compositions seem to have been merely the 
 effusions of hilarity in convivial moments ; for Athensus 
 reports, that his songs were produced when the poet 
 was under the influence of the jolly god. {Deifinos, 1. 
 X.) His natural disposition of mind directed his serious 
 thoughts to subjects of a more sublime and interesting 
 nature ; and his Muse appears to have been more con- 
 genially occupied in denouncing vengeance on the heads 
 of the tyrants of Greece, and in supporting the cause 
 3A 2
 
 372 
 
 ALC 
 
 ALC 
 
 of morality and virtue. Sec Horat. carm. ii. 13. Quint. 
 Jnnt. X. 1. 
 
 The works of Alcacus were very highly esteemed by 
 the ancients. Horace, the prince of Roman lyric poets, 
 seems to have been indebted to him for several of his 
 most beautilul odes, and frequently alludes to him in 
 terms of admiration. (2) 
 
 ALCAICS, from Alcaeus, a name given by the an- 
 cients to several species of versification, supposed to 
 have been introduced by that poet. The alcaic versifi- 
 cation consisted principally ot two kinds ; dactylic and 
 simple alcaics. The dactylic alcaic verse was of two 
 sorts ; the one consisted of a spondee or iambus, an 
 iambus, a long syllable, and two dactyles ; the other had 
 two dactyles, and two trochees. The simple alcaic 
 verse consisted of an epitritc, two choriambuses, and a 
 bachius. 
 
 The alcaic ode was divided into several strophes, of 
 four verses each. The two first verses were dactylic al- 
 caics of the first kind ; the third consisted of four iam- 
 bic feet, with the addition of a long syllable ; and the 
 fourth was a dactylic alcaic verse of the second kind. 
 
 The dactylic alcaic metre has been imitated by 
 Klopstock, and other German poets, in some of their 
 odes (z) 
 
 ALCAID, Alcade, ALCALD,or Alvacide, an Arabic 
 word, from cil, the, and kad, to rule, is the name of an 
 officer of justice among the Spaniards, Portuguese, and 
 Moors. In Spain, an alcaid is nearly the same with a 
 justice of the peace in England. (71;) 
 
 ALC ALA DK Henares, or Alcala de S. Just, the 
 Cowplutium of the ancients, a beautiful town in New 
 Castile, situated on the river Henares, and belonging to 
 the archbishop of Toledo. Its university, founded in 
 1253 by Sancho king of Castile, and the greatest hi 
 Spain next to Sulamanca, was restored in 1494, by Car- 
 dinal Ximcnes, who is buried in the church connected 
 with that institution. The university was celebrated for 
 its curious manuscripts, which cost about 4000 gold 
 crowns. Among these were 7 Hebrew bibles, and pro- 
 bably the Greek manuscripts employed for the Complu- 
 tensian edition of the Greek Testament. In 1784, Pro- 
 fessor Moldenhower went to Alcala, for the purpose 
 of discovering these valuable remains of antiquity ; but 
 he found, that, about the year 1749, some barbarous li- 
 brarian, in order to make room for new books, sold the 
 MSS. as materials for making fire-rockets. In the 
 neighbourhood of Alcala is a fine spring, whose waters 
 are so pure, that they are conveyed to Madrid for the 
 use of the royal family. This town is 13 miles east 
 of Madrid. Population 'sOOO. W. Long. 4° 20'. N. Lat. 
 40" 35'. (0) 
 
 ALCAMO, a town in Sicily, which takes its name 
 from .idalcam, the caliph's lieutenant, who conquered 
 Sicily in 827, and erected a fortress in Monte Bonifati. 
 Frederic of Swabia, having driven out the Saracens, de- 
 stroved the fort, and built Alcamo at the foot of the moun- 
 tain. The town, which is situated in the valley of Migara, 
 is 20 miles south-west of Palermo. Population 8500. 
 E. Long. 12° 56'. N. Lat. 38° 2'. See Swmbume's Tra- 
 veU; vol. iii. p. 346. (iv) 
 
 ALCANNA, or Elhanna, a drug brought from 
 Egypt, and the Levant, and prepared from the leaves of 
 the Egyptian privet, the Lawsonia Inermis of the Lin- 
 naean system. It is an article of trade with the inhabit- 
 ants of Cairo, who employ it to give a golden hue to their 
 nails, hands, and hair, and to the manes and tails of their 
 
 horses. Oil of Cyprus is extracted from the berries 
 of alcanna. See Dapper's L)c.icri/ilio?t di- l^A/rii/ue, p. 
 83. Murray's A/a;. Med. vol. ii. p. 112. /•/«/. Traw. 
 vol. XX. p. 295. (0) 
 
 ALCANTARA, the M'orba Cxsarca of the ancients, a 
 fortified town, situated in the Spanish province of Estre- 
 madura, on the banks of the Tagus. It was built b/ 
 the Moors, from the convenience of a fine stone bridge, 
 erected by the order of Trajan. Hence it derived the 
 name of M-cantara, or the Stone Bridge. The bridge 
 consists of six arches ; it is raised about 200 feet above 
 the water, and is 670 feet long, and 28 broad. This 
 town was taken from the Moors in 1214, by Alphonso 
 IX. king of Castile, and was presented by him to the 
 knights of Calatrava, who afterwards took the title of 
 Alcantara. Distance from Madrid 45 leagues. W.Long. 
 7° 12'. N. Lat. 39° 32'. Qiv) 
 
 ALCANTARA, Order of, an ancient military order 
 in Spain. This order, which, at its first institution, was 
 called the order of St Julian, was founded in 1156, by 
 Don Suero Fernandes, and Don Gomez Fernandes Ba- 
 nientos, two brothers from Salamanca, whose religious 
 zeal induced them to form an association against the in- 
 fidels. The bishop of Salamanca confirmed their plan, 
 and having obtained the pope's approbation, they were 
 enjoined to observe the rules of St Benedict. In 1219, 
 their principal house was transferred to Alcantara, which 
 gave its name to the order. Though this order is not 
 so rich as formerly, it still possesses 33 commanderies, 
 4 alcaydies, and 4 priories, which produce an annual 
 revenue of 80,000 ducats. When the town of Alcantara 
 was given by Alphonso to the order of Calatrava, the 
 two orders were united. (0) 
 
 ALCANTARA, a large river in Sicily, which, rising 
 in the Peloro mountains, runs to the north side ofiEtna, 
 defines the boundaries of that mountain for the space of 
 sixty miles, and runs into the sea near St Chiffe. Some 
 parts of its course have been obstructed by volcanic 
 eruptions; and, in other places, the stream has laid bare 
 the solid lava to the depth of 50 or 60 feet. See Brydone's 
 7o;(r, vol. i. p. 119. {tu) 
 
 ALCARAZ, a town in Spain, in the canton of La 
 Mancha, in New Castile, situated amid mountains on the 
 river Guardamena, defended by a strong castle, and ce- 
 lebrated for the remains of an ancient aqueduct. After 
 a siege of two years, this town was taken from the Moors, 
 in 1213, by Alonzo, king of Castile. Its breed of small 
 horses is famous for fleetness and strength. W. Long. 
 2° 3'. N. Lat. 38° 28'. {iv) 
 
 ALCARRAZAS, in pottery, are a kind of vessels for 
 cooling wine or water, wlien intended for drinking. As 
 they are exceedingly porous, the liquor oozes through 
 them on all sides; the air which comes in contact with 
 it, by making it evaporate, carries off the heat contained 
 in the water, 8cc. in the vessel ; thus the liquid remain- 
 ing in the jar continues at a temperature considerably 
 below the surrounding atmosphere. 
 
 The peculiar convenience attached to these vessels 
 has introduced them to numerous places of the world, 
 where the heat renders the coolness of what is drunk 
 greatly to be desired. Thus they are used in Egypt as 
 well as many other parts of Africa: They are known in 
 the East Indies, Syria, Persia, China, and in other parts 
 of Asia; they are general in the Spanish colonies of 
 America; and in Europe, they were introduced into 
 Spain by the ingenious people of Arabia. 
 
 France, so nearly allied to Spain, by intercovirse and
 
 ALCARKAZAS. 
 
 373 
 
 by situation, and to whom the inti'oJuction of alcarrazas 
 would be as bcncHcial as to the former, cannot boast of 
 a manufactory of this article. Cit. Durzet was anxious 
 to analyze this white marly earth, and by employing all 
 the precision necessary for that purpose, he found that 
 one liundred grains of it contained sixty of calcareous 
 earth, mixed with alumine, and a little oxyd of iron, 
 difficult to be dissolved, and '36\ of siliceous earth, also 
 mixed with alumine and the same oxyd. The quantity 
 of iron may be estimated at almost a grain. 
 
 The manufactory of alcarrazas possesses recommen- 
 dations, which most others do not easily admit. The 
 expense of forming erections for this process is very 
 trifling. The process, by which the jars are made, as 
 we shall see below, is very simple ; and the profits are 
 very certain, if the public do not refuse to adopt so use- 
 ful a practice. 
 
 The preparation, given to the earth, may be reduced 
 to three principal operations : 
 
 First, Suppose it were necessary to manufacture 150 
 pounds of earth : — After it has been dried, and divided 
 into portions of the size of a walnut, it is macerated in 
 a basin or tub, by proceeding m the following manner: 
 The workman takes about three or four celeminfi of earth, 
 (a celcrnin is a measure of capacity, which contains about 
 seven pounds of grain,) which are spread out equally in 
 the basin, and water is poured over it; he then throws 
 in three or four celemins more of earth, which are wa- 
 tered as before, and thus repeats these operations until 
 the tub be sufficiently full. In pouring on the last water, 
 care is taken not to add any more than may be neces- 
 sary to cover the whole mass. In this state, it is suf- 
 fered to remain twelve hours ; after which, it is worked 
 and kneaded by the hands in the tub, until it is reduced 
 to tlie consistence of a tough paste. The earth is then 
 deposited on a smooth flat form, covered with brick, 
 kept exceedingly clean, over which is strewed a little 
 sifted ashes. It is formed into a cake, about six inches 
 in thickness, which is smoothed at the surface as well 
 as at the sides. It is left in that state, until it begins to 
 crack, after which it is freed from the ashes which ad- 
 here to it, and removed to another tiled place, made ex- 
 ceedingly clean. 
 
 Second Pre/mra I ion.— To this earth, the workman 
 adds seven pounds of sea salt, if he wishes to make jar- 
 ras ; and only the half, if it is destined for the fabrica- 
 tion of botizas, or cantaros. This difference arises from 
 the greater or less capacity intended to be given to the 
 vases ; the larger the vase is, its sides must be so much 
 thicker, that it may have the necessary degree of 
 strength ; but the earth, at the same time, must be more 
 porous, otherwise the water would not filter through 
 with ease; and, for this reason, the workman adds a 
 greater quantity of salt, when he wishes to make jarras, 
 which are much larger than the botizas, or can/aros. 
 The earth is kneaded with the feet, adding the salt gra- 
 dually, and this labour is repeated at least three times, 
 without the necessity of adding more water, as the mois- 
 ture retained by the material is sufficient. 
 
 Third Prefiaration. — The earth, after being thus sub- 
 jected to these various manipulations, is now fit to be 
 applied to the lathe. The man, who is employed for 
 this work, ought to beat it well with his hands, taking 
 care to extract the stones, even the smallest which he 
 may meet with, as well as every other foreign body. 
 He then forms it into lumps, which he applies to the 
 lathes to be made into vases or jars. The alcarrazas 
 
 may be baked in any kind of furnace used by potters. 
 Those employed hi Spain are eighteen feet square in 
 the inside, and five feet three inclics high. The flame 
 enters by a hole, one foot four inches in diameter, situ- 
 ated in the centre. Such a furnace will contain 800 dif- 
 ferent pieces of different sizes, including 500 jarras. 
 Pottery of nuich greater strength than the alcarrazas 
 may be baked in the same furnace, if care be taken to 
 keep up the fire for one or two hours longer. The al- 
 carrazas, which require to be only half baked, remain 
 there ten or twelve hours, according to the tempera- 
 ture of the air, or the greater or less quantity of the fuel 
 employed. Processes are followed in some of the pot- 
 teries of Spain, varying in some degree from the above 
 routine; but they all depend on tlie same principles. 
 After the earth has been pounded, it is suffered to ma- 
 cerate in a tub for twenty-four hours; the whole is then 
 mixed with a stick, and it is freed from the straws, or 
 other foreign bodies, that float on the surface ; the stones 
 and coarser parts of the earth fall to the bottom of the 
 vessel, and the finer is drawn off" by a hole four inches 
 above it. The earth is then left to dry to a requisite 
 degree, and is afterwards deposited in a moist place, to 
 be employed as may be found necessary. In other ma- 
 nufactories, the earth, when dry, is ground below a rol- 
 ler, after which it is sifted, and the proper quantity of 
 salt and water being added, it is then kneaded. The 
 proportion of salt is not every where the same. In some 
 places, the same quantity of earth requires a half less 
 of salt. Care is always taken to choose earth of a proper 
 quality, without ever having occasion to add to it a mix- 
 ture of sand. The same earth is employed also for com- 
 mon pottery; the only difference is, that salt is added to 
 the clay used for the alcarrazas, and that they are only 
 half baked. 
 
 The Arabs were the first who introduced the manu- 
 facture and use of these vessels into Spain, where they 
 are now manufactured in several different places. They 
 are made, as we have seen, of different forms and various 
 sizes, and are generally of a grayish-white colour. The 
 most celebrated place for this species of pottery, and 
 that from which all the vessels of this kind, used at 
 Madrid, are brought, is Anduxar, in Andalusia. The 
 banks of a rivulet, called Pamusoro, which is situated at 
 the distance of a quarter of a league from the above 
 town, abounds with earth for making them. 
 
 There is not a single family in Madrid, and scarcely 
 a house in all Spain, where alcarrazas are not in constant 
 use. A kind of red vessel, called -buccarrjs, employed 
 likewise to cool water, is also made at a place called 
 Salvatierra, in Estremadura; but the earth being less 
 porous, it is not so proper for the intended purpose. 
 Besides, these vases communicate to the water a disa- 
 greeable argillaceous taste ; in which they differ little 
 from the effect of the common filtering basins, or 
 stones, used in England. Among the ladies of Madrid, 
 these buccaros are in great request, some of whom 
 pound fragments of them, and mix the powder with 
 snuff. Young girls have a particular fondness for this 
 kind of pottery, and eat it when they are troubled with 
 the chlorosis 
 
 Vases of a similar kind to those above described, are 
 employed in Portugal for moistening snuff. They are 
 plunged into water, after being filled with that article, 
 and the liquid, filtering insensibly through them, com- 
 municates to the ingredient enclosed, after a few hours 
 are expired, the necessary degree of humidity.
 
 374 
 
 ALC 
 
 ALC 
 
 The editor of the Journal tic Physique is of opinion, the cl'>menls which entered into its composition, and the 
 
 that the mixture of fossil meal with common potter's mode in which they were combined, liy elements, liow- 
 
 earth might afl'ord an useful substitute, both for the al- ever, they did not, as in modern chemistr)', mean pri- 
 
 carrazas and the filtering stones. The fossil meal is mai7 principles, which no operation of nature or art is 
 
 that of which the floatini^ bricks of Tuscany are made, capable of changing ; for they believed that the different 
 
 and which, according to the testimony of Pliny and elements were mutually convertible. Thus Ileraclitus 
 
 Strabo, was anciently found in great plenty both in Asia says, ■sri/fos .S^«»«To5 asji yfvm-ti Jj «£f«5 .9-ay<»7«5 u^uti ynii-n : 
 
 and Spain. To the proposed use, however, of this sub- And again, oa«7i .■>«v«7«5 yivyevfcr^ai ; that is, the deatli of 
 
 stitutc, the earthy flavour, which it would communicate fire is generation to air, and the death of air is genera- 
 
 to the water, has been thought a radical objection; but tion to water : and it is death to water to become earth. 
 
 this, we have seen, is an efl'cct attending also the filter- By this hypothesis, these philosophers explained several 
 
 ing stones of England. See Cooleu, Egujitian ; Ev.v- of the appearances in nature. They did not attempt, 
 
 poration; Hygrometer, (e) however, to make any application of this theory to the 
 
 ALCASSAR, or Alcazar Quibir, formerly Casar al arts ; a neglect which seems to have arisen from the cir- 
 
 Cablris, a city of Barbary, situated in Asga, a province of cumstance, that, as the manual arts were then pi-actised 
 
 the kingdom of Fez. It was built by Jacob Almazer, chiefly by slaves, men of liberal education considered 
 
 king of Fez, about 1180; and was intended as a depot any attention to them as a degradation of their character, 
 
 for the immense stores, and a rendezvous for the pow- But when, by the universal difl"usion of Christianity, 
 
 erful army, with which he meant to enter Granada, in slavery was abolished, and the arts were cultivated by 
 
 Spain. The Portuguese made themselves masters of free men, these prejudices were gradually removed, and 
 
 this town in 1458; before which time it was the resi- philosophers no longer disdained to engage in manual 
 
 dence of a governor, and a place of considerable trade, operations, either for instruction or for profit. They 
 
 It is now in a ruinous state, inundated with water in soon perceived that it followed as a necessary conse- 
 
 winter, and scorched with heat in summer. It was in qucnce, from the theories of their predecessors, that any 
 
 tlie vicinity of this town, upon the river Elma-hassan, substance in nature may be changed into any other, 
 
 that a famous battle was fought, in 1578, between Se- either by adding to it or subtracting from it, a portion of 
 
 bastian, king of Portugal, and the Moors, in which three certain elements, or by transmuting some of those ele- 
 
 kings were slain, viz. the king of Portugal, Abdelme- ments which it contains into different ones. The science 
 
 lech, king of Morocco, and Mahomet, the usurper. W. of chemistry, which treats of the changes produced in 
 
 Long. 12° 35'. N. Lat. 35° 15'. {i") bodies by different agents, held out the prospect of ena- 
 
 ALCAVALA, a tax upon transferable property, im- bling them to effectuate such permutations, and some of 
 
 posed under the Spanish and Neapolitan governments, its results were adapted, in that state of science, to flatter 
 
 In Naples, it was only 3 percent.; but in Spain, it rose them with the idea of having actually changed a small 
 
 from 10 to 14 per cent., and afterwards decreased to 6 portion of the inferior metals into gold or silver. Lead 
 
 per cent. See Smith's IVcatth of A'lilions, vol. iii. p. and copper are frequently alloyed with these valuable 
 
 381. (o) metals. Consequently, when the former are subjected 
 
 ALCEA, or Holly //or X, a genus of plants of the class to the operation of powerful chemical agents, the latter, 
 
 Monadelphia, and order Polyandria. See Botany, (to) which do not so easily put off the metallic aspect, would 
 
 ALCEDO, or King Fisher, a genus of birds, arranged 
 by Linnseus in the order of Picae, and by Cuvier under 
 the order of Passeres, and family Tenuirostres. See 
 Ornithology. (/) 
 
 ALCHEMILLA, a genus of plants of the class Te- 
 trandria, and order Monogynia. See Botany, (w) 
 
 sometimes become apparent in the residuum. Such a 
 esult would naturally give rise to a belief, that these 
 metals had been actually formed during the operation, 
 and would lead the artist to imagine, that by varying the 
 process he could procure them in greater quantity. 
 These are probably the particular circumstances from 
 
 ALCHEMY, an occult science, which pretended, by which alchemy had its origin ; but the early history of 
 
 means of a sublimer chemistry, to teach modes of form- this delusion is involved in too much obscurity to ena- 
 
 ing the philosopher's stone, the universal medicine, and ble us to form a decided opinion. 
 
 the universal solvent; and of producing the precious The alchemists pretend that Noah was acquainted 
 metals and gems from common and cheap materials, with this art. It is even shrewdly suspected by these 
 The term alchemy, however, has been usually employ- gentlemen, that Adam had considerable knowledge of 
 ed in a more limited sense, to denote the art of foiTnmg the subject. After the death of Noah, his descendants 
 the philosopher's stone, and, by means of it, transmuting carried with them this science into the different regions 
 the inferior metals into gold and silver. This subject of the earth over which they were dispersed. Some 
 derives considerable interest from the strange delusion of these colonies, however, gradually sunk into ignor- 
 with which it misled philosophers for a period of more ance, while others cultivated the different parts of know- 
 than one thousand years ; from tlie effects of that delu- ledge with considerable success. The most celebrated 
 sion upon the happiness of society during its reign ; and of the ancient nations, for their acquisitions in science, 
 from the powerful influence which it has had upon the were the Egyptians ; among w-hom Heraies Trismegis- 
 proTress of science. Wc shall on these accounts con- tus, at a very early period, is alleged to have been a 
 sider it more fully than, from its intrinsic merit, the sub» great master in alchemy, and to have inscribed his dis- 
 ject deserves. coveries upon stone pillars. These discoveries were al- 
 The ancient philosophers conceived the various bo- so preserved by the Egyptian priests, in hieroglyphic 
 dies in nature to be composed of four elements, viz. characters, upon the walls of their temples, and in writ- 
 earth, water, air, and fire. (See jEther,) Of these ten books, which they kept particularly secret. The 
 philosophers, the atomists, who had by far the most cor- Egyptians were supposed to have communicated this 
 rect views of physical science, held, that each body knowledge to Pythagoras and several other Grecian 
 derived its peculiar properties from the proportion of philosophers, after piany years anxious attendance and
 
 ALCHEMY. 
 
 O/ 3 
 
 earnest solicitation. This account of tlic origin of al- 
 clituiy, ioundua on forced iiUci'prctaLious and spurious 
 works oi unciciit authors, is vvhoiiy unworihy of credit. 
 Tiic first certain notices vvhicii we have of the existence 
 01 alchemy arc referable to the third or fuurtli century, 
 about \Miich time it appears to have been pursued with 
 considerable ardour uy die Greek ecclesiasiics, whose 
 treatises upon tnc bUbject arc numerous, though little 
 valued by their successors. At this period the attention 
 of alchemists sccais to have been chiefly turned towards 
 the lormatioii of silver and gold. In consequence of tlie 
 Mahometan conquests, alchemy was transferred from the 
 Greeks to the Aiabians; and, by this change, became 
 more extensive in its signification, as well as more en- 
 couraged by the patronage of the great. The Arabian 
 physicians introduced into medicine the use of mercurial 
 preparations, and were led, by the success of this first 
 experiment, to form very presumptuous hopes of the 
 power of chemical substances in curing disease. Al- 
 chemy was then no longer confined to the transmutation 
 of metals, but included an art not less interesting to the 
 human mind, — that of preparing an universal medicine, 
 which should be a remedy for all diseases, and the means 
 of protracting indefinitely the life of man. Thus ad- 
 dressing itself to two of the most powerful principles of 
 our nature, the desire of riches and longevity, this delu- 
 sion extended its fascination to every rank in society. 
 It was patronized by the rich, and eagerly prosecuted 
 by the learned. The illustrious names of Geber, Rha- 
 zes, and Avicenna, appear, in the number of its votai'ies. 
 
 Little is known of the history of alchemy during the ele- 
 venth and tw ellth centuries. The sciences had then begun 
 to decline in the eastern world, and had only shed a faint 
 light upon the western parts of Europe. About the mid- 
 dle of the thirteenth century, Albertus Magnus, Roger 
 Bacon, I^aymond LuUy, and Arnoldus de Villanova, by 
 their writings and examples attracted the attention of 
 learned men to the subject of alchemy. The preten- 
 sions of alchemists became more bold than at any for- 
 mer period. They professed to developc the constituent 
 principles of gems, and to communicate pi-ocesscs by 
 which they might be produced. The discovery of the 
 philosopher's stone was now supposed not only to give 
 the power of forming the precious metals, but to in- 
 volve many wonderful mysteries in religion and science. 
 
 During the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, the 
 impulse which Roger Bacon and his contemporaries had 
 given to the public mind, was maintained by the abili- 
 ties of several philosophers, and by the example of dif- 
 ferent princes and men of rank, who engaged in this 
 delusive pursuit. By their influence, the belief in al- 
 chemy became almost universal ; and impostors, who 
 pretended to possess the philosopher's stone, and to 
 teach the secret for a sum of money, were enabled to 
 profit by the credulity and ignorance of the times. These 
 impositions at length alarmed the higher ranks in so- 
 ciety, and brought the whole class of alchemists into 
 disrepute. Laws were enacted against them by the 
 diflcrcnt princes of Europe ; and men of learning began 
 to dispute the practicability of transmuting the metals, 
 and to question the validity of the evidence that such 
 transmutations had ever been efifected. 
 
 Another branch of alchemy, viz. that of forming an 
 universal medicine, began about this [jcriod to rise into 
 celebrity. The chief supporter of this empiricism was 
 the celebrated Paracelsus, who, in the sixteenth century, 
 by a bold administration of chemical preparations, cured 
 
 several diseases which transcended the power of tiie 
 feeble medicines then in use. His death, in the 4~th 
 year of his age, alter having ])retended to possess the 
 univeraal remedy, and promised by means of it to confei- 
 longevity on his patients, gave a shock to this branch of 
 alchemy, from which it never recovered. In consequence 
 of these events, and of the gradual improvements in 
 knowledge which enabled learned men to perceive the 
 fallacies by which their predecessors had been misled, 
 and to detect the impostures of those who, from time to 
 time, pretended to perform transmutations, the study 
 of alchemy, after a gradual decline during the seven- 
 teenth and eighteenth centuiies, has now totally disap- 
 peared. 
 
 One naturally fccis a desire to know by what theories 
 the alchemists guided their researches in pursuit of the 
 philosopher's stone, and by what processes they directed 
 their disciples to form this invaluable sul)stance. If we 
 have recourse to their writings with this view, we shall 
 be astonished at the impenetrable obscurity in which they 
 are involved. The alchemists pretend, that the know- 
 ledge of the philosopher's stone was reserved by Provi- 
 dence for a few select persons, who, by a diligent study 
 of the alchemical authors, by patient perseverance in the 
 piirsuit of experiment, and by an iniblemished course of 
 virtue, had rendered themselves worthy of having this 
 secret revealed to them. Tliey accordingly threatened, 
 with the severest vengeance of Heaven, both in this and 
 a future state, that person who should counteract the 
 designs of Providence by disclosing this divhie art to 
 the profane vulgar. Their books were, therefore, written 
 in a style of studied obscurity, in order that none but 
 the peculiar favourites of Heaven might be able to un- 
 derstand them. Some of these writers adopt such mys- 
 tical modes of expression, or employ such peculiar dia- 
 grams and symbols, as to be absolutely unintelligible; 
 while others, after professing to speak plainly, and for 
 some time employing the known terms of chemistry, 
 suddenly disappoint our expectations. Just as we begin 
 to flatter ourselves that we understand their processes, 
 and perceive the particular object which they have in 
 view, they tell us that the copper or the silver which 
 they have immediately before commanded us to employ, 
 is (now vulgi sed 7ios!rum,') not the copper or silver of 
 the vulgar, but of philosophers. When, after deluding 
 their readers in this manner, they conclude by an (intd- 
 liffe si petes,) — understand me if you can; — or, (si /ilura 
 dicerem etiam pueri intetliffi-renl,) if I should say more, 
 even children would understand ; — we can scarcely help 
 believing, that their works were intended rather to ridi- 
 cule than explain the science. Thus the unhappy per- 
 sons who addicted themselves to the study of alchemy 
 always remained uncertain how to interpret the author 
 whom they chose as their instructor; and instead of be- 
 ing led, from the unfortunate issue of their experiments, 
 to doubt the authority of their guide, and desist entirely 
 from .the pursuit, rather supposed that they had misun- 
 derstood the author; and attempted, by a more attentive 
 study of his works, to arrive at his true meaning. They 
 were thus led on from one delusive hope to another, 
 from one expensive process to another still more expen- 
 sive, till the complete expenditin-e of their own funds, 
 and the failure of their credit with others, forced them 
 unwillingly to desist from their experiments. After 
 having thus spent their lives in perpetual labours and 
 disappointments; after having injured their health by 
 the processes in which they were employed ; and redu-
 
 .TTG 
 
 ALC 
 
 ALC 
 
 ced themselves to absolute poverty, in llieii- chase after 
 an iniaguiary object, the alchemists were seldom cured 
 of their folly, but indulging, in retirement, in their vi- 
 sionary speculations, they at last, either from mental de- 
 rangement, or from the want of funds sufficient to dis- 
 prove their new theory by experiment, believed them- 
 selves to have become acquainted with the mode of 
 forming the philosopher's stone ; and composed mystical 
 books to teach the art to others. 
 
 We have already mentioned, that the belief in alchemy 
 probably had its rise from an application of the atomic 
 theory to the phenomena of chemistry. But from the 
 obscure style of alchemical authors, it is impossible to 
 trace a distinct theory in most of their writings, or to 
 find a consistency in their ideas. Some of these writers 
 indulge in the reveries of the Platonists; others are 
 deeply infected with the delusion of celestial influences, 
 and a thousand other ridiculous fancies. It will there- 
 fore be sufficient to mention the theory, which has been 
 avowed by the latest and most intelligent of the alche- 
 mists. They supposed the metals to be composed of 
 two substances, metallic earth, and an inflammable prin- 
 ciple, which they called sulphur. In gold, these prin- 
 ciples were found nearly pure ; but, in the other metals, 
 they were contaminated with different foreign ingre- 
 dients, by being purified from which, they would be con- 
 verted into gold. To this purification, their various 
 processes had a reference. Among the earliest of the 
 alchemists, who held this theory, neither the earth, nor 
 sulphur of metals, seem to have been considered as sim- 
 ple elements ; but the later alchemists appear to have 
 viewed them in that light. The great instrument by 
 which the purification of the metals was to be produced, 
 they called, — the philosopher's stone, the lapis tingens, 
 the medicina metallorum, the elixir, the powder of pro- 
 jections, &c. A small portion of this substance, by be- 
 ing projected into any of the inferior metals, while in 
 fusion, would convert the whole mass into gold or sil- 
 ver. The opinions, concerning the operation of the 
 philosopher's stone, were various. Some conceived it to 
 act as a ferment upon the inferior metals ; others as a 
 corrosive, which consumed their impurities ; and a third 
 set seem to have conceived its action somewhat similar 
 to that of lead, in refining the superior metals. The 
 first alchemists believed in only one species of philoso- 
 pher's stone ; but the inconsistencies of different au- 
 thors, in treating of its powers, rendered it necessaiy 
 for their successors to believe, that this stone differed 
 in the quantity of metal, which a given weight of it was 
 capable of converting into gold ; thus, when formed ac- 
 cording to one process, an ounce of tlie stone could con- 
 vert only ten ounces of lead or copper into gold ; but, if 
 formed according to another process, it was capable of 
 transmuting one thousand times its own weight. Basil 
 Valentine makes a farther distinction between different 
 stones ; besides the lajiis fihilosofihorum, or philosopher's 
 stone, which is formed from gold, and converts all metals 
 into that substance, he supposes several other stones, 
 ■which are only capable of transmuting particular metals ; 
 " sed lafiis ignis" says he, " nciii tingit univeraaliter, 
 sicut la/iis /ihiloso/i/ioru/n giii ex solis essentia fiaratur : 
 nef/uaquam. F.tenim tantum ei concesstim 7ion est, ad ef- 
 Jiciendum sua viriuie, verian tingit particulariter, nemfie 
 luJiam in solem prater stannum et plumbum : Marten et 
 Venerem eguidem omitlit." All the adepts agree that the 
 colour of the philosopher's stone was red ; but differ very 
 much concerning the substances, from which it may be 
 
 formed. In consequence of this diversity of opinion, it 
 has been sought for in innumerable bodies, some of then; 
 the most execrable, and by processes extremely tedious 
 and pernicious to the health of the operator. See An- 
 drew's History; vol. ii. p. 87. ; Poritanus and Hainvl ; 
 Ireneu.i Philatetha ; Price's pamphlet, entitled, y/cfCiuni« 
 from Kxjieriments performed at Guilford. A. C 
 
 ALCIBIADES, an Athenian general, was descended 
 from one of the first families at Athens, and was pos- 
 sessed of great personal accomplishments. He was 
 eminent in the field, by his high military talents; and 
 not less so in the forum, by his graceful and command- 
 ing eloquence. At times, he was studious and tempe- 
 rate ; and again, luxurious and dissipated; capable of as- 
 suming any character, and of shining in any company ; 
 extraordinary, in short, both for his gcKjd and bad qualr- 
 tics. He was educated in the house of Pericles, and at- 
 tended the instructions of Socrates. He acquired so 
 much influence among his fellow-citizens, by his gene- 
 rosity in bestowing money and pleading causes, that he 
 began to be viewed with a jealous eye, as possessing 
 more power than was becoming in a private person, or 
 consistent with the safety of a republic. While con- 
 ducting an expedition against the Syracusans, he was 
 accused, in his absence, of sacrilege ; and a vessel was 
 sent to Sicily to bring him home to take his trial. 
 Aware of the suspicious and fickle temper of his coun- 
 trymen, he endeavoured to avoid the storm, which 
 threatened him, by retiring to Thebes. But when he 
 understood there, that his person was condemned, his 
 property confiscated, and his name laid under a curse, 
 he joined the Lacedaemonians, and soon rendered them 
 victorious over the Athenians. The more, however, 
 that they profited by his aid, the more they dreaded his 
 return to Athens ; and, therefore, they laid plans against 
 his life. Alcibiades, discovering their designs, repair- 
 ed to Tissaphernes, an officer of the Persian prince, 
 conferred with the Athenian commanders, Thrasybulus 
 and Theramenes, was restored by their intercession to 
 the favour of his countiymen, and united with them in 
 the command of the forces. He strengthened the Athe- 
 nians by many important conquests and alliances, forced 
 the Lacedaemonians to sue for peace, and returned in 
 triumph to Athens. He was welcomed by the people 
 as their deliverer, presented with crowns of gold, rein- 
 stated in his possessions, and loaded with honours. But 
 this high opinion, which his countrymen entertained 
 of his talents, was the great source of all his troubles. 
 Sensible of his unbounded influence, they were con- 
 tinually alarmed, lest he should seize upon the sove- 
 reignty ; and, convinced that there was nothing which 
 he could not accomplish, they were ready to suspect 
 him of treachery, whenever he failed in any undertaking. 
 Hence, upon occasion of some bad success, he was 
 again deprived of his command. But, instead of return- 
 ing home, he collected a body of men, and made incur- 
 sions into Thrace ; w^atching always for the good of his 
 ungrateful country, and often giving useful warnings 
 to her generals. Finding himself not sufficiently safe 
 in Thrace from the vengeance of tlie Lacedaemonians, 
 he took refuge with Pharnabazus, into whose good 
 graces he soon insinuated himself, and from whom he 
 received a possession in Phrygia. While he was taking 
 measures to engage the Persian monarch on the side of 
 the Athenians, the Lacedaemonians prevailed with Phar- 
 nabazus to send persons to take away his life. The 
 party, despatched for tliis purpose, afraid to attack
 
 ALC 
 
 AhC 
 
 371 
 
 this hiiiijlc mau face to face, in a cowavdly manner 
 set fire to ills liouse, during tlic niglit, and pierced iiim 
 witli arrows from a distance, as lie was ciideavouiing 
 to escape from tlic flames. Sec Corn. A^ip. and I'lu- 
 farch. {(/) 
 
 ALCINOUS, Icing of Plioeacia, now Corfu. He re- 
 ceived Ulysses with great hospitality, when he was ship- 
 wrecked upon his coast. He offered him his daughter 
 in marriage, and conveyed him to Ithaca, loaded with 
 presents. Alcinous was regarded as a just prince ; and 
 has been celebrated for the splendour of his gardens. 
 Sec Homer's Odysnty, b. vi. vii. {w) 
 
 ALCIATI, Andrew, a celebrated lawyer, was born 
 at Mil.ui, on the 8th May, 1492. He was the only son 
 cfAmbrogio, ambassador to the republic of Venice, and 
 of Margaret Landriana, a lady of noble family, who is 
 reported to have felt no pains at his birth. He was 
 sent, at the age of IS, to study law at the universities of 
 Padua and Bologna, and such progress had he made in 
 his studies, that, in 1513, he was able to write commen- 
 tai'ies upon the three last books of Justinian's code. 
 After taking the degree of doctor of laws, at the age of 
 22, he exercised the profession of an advocate, in his 
 native city, for the space of three years, when he was 
 called to the chair of law in the university of Avignon, 
 with a salary of 500 crowns. Here he lectured to 700 
 auditors ; and so far did he extend his reputation, that 
 even prelates, abbots, and counts, thronged to his lec- 
 tures; and Leo X. raised him to the dignity of a count 
 Palatine. 
 
 The entreaties of his mother, and the inability of the 
 city of Avignon to pay his salary, induced him to return 
 to Milan, on the 5th November, 1521; where he re- 
 sumed his profession, till he was prevailed upon, in 1527, 
 by Francis I. to teach law in the university of Bourges. 
 Here he was honoured with the presence of the French 
 king, to whom he gave the highest satisfaction, by an 
 elegant and extemporaneous oration. Francis Sforza, 
 duke of Milan, having heard of the fame of Alciati, in- 
 duced him to leave Bourges, in 1532, by appointing 
 him professor at Pavia, with a salary of 1 500 crowns, 
 and raising him to the dignity of a senator. From the 
 university of Pavia, he went to that of Bologna; from 
 l^ologna to Pavia, and thence to Ferrara, where he re- 
 mained four years ; but the fickleness of his humour in- 
 duced him again to return to Pavia, where he died on 
 the 12th January, 1550, in the fifty-eighth year of his 
 age. 
 
 Alciati seems to have been a man of an avaricious 
 disposition. He emigrated from one university to ano- 
 ther, yielding to every lucrative offer, and appears never 
 to have felt the comforts of a settled life. He had the 
 merit of being the first, who mingled polite literature 
 wilh his exposition of the law, and banished the barba- 
 rity of language, which had hitherto disfigured the lec- 
 tures and the writings of lawyers. His printed works 
 are, I. Commentarii in Ju.i Civile et Canonicnw, (jtiibus 
 adduntur Ewblemal-um Liber ; de Magistrat . Civil. Libi-r ; 
 ct Aiinot. in Taciturn. 6 vols, folio, Lcyden, 1560 ; Basil, 
 1571; Basil, 1582; Argentin, 1616 ; Francfort, 1617. 2. 
 Co}2silia, Venet. 1566. 3. lies/icnsa, Lugd. 1561. 4. 
 De Formula Roman. Imjicrii, Basil, 1559. 5. Ejiigram- 
 j)7a;a Sf/cc/a. Latine versa, Basil, 1529. 6. Hist. Mcdio- 
 /c?!("?;«. Mediolani, 1625. 7. De Plaiidiiorum Carminum 
 7-atione. 8. De Legum Interfiretibu.i I'arandis, 1566. 
 9. £ncotniu?n Historia, 1530. 10. Palma. W. Jndiciarii 
 Processus Comjiendium, 1536. 12. Contra Vit. JSTcnast. 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 1695, 13. jVote in I'.jiint. I'ain. Ciccronin, 1557. 14. 
 li/iistola, 1697. 
 
 Alciati left behind him about 2 1 difFerent works, which 
 have not been published. An account of them will 
 be found in Mazzuchclli's Scrittori D'ltalia, vol. i. p 
 370. (o) 
 
 ALCINA, in botany, the generic name of anew plant 
 brought from Mexico, and described by Cowanilles. It 
 is arranged by the French Ijotanists among the Corym- 
 liiterae of Jussieu. See Diclionnaire dcs iicieiices A'atu- 
 rdlcs, lorn. i. p. 441. (./) 
 
 ALCIONIO, PKTEn, a learned Italian, was born of 
 poor parents, between Uie years 1490 and 1500. As he 
 uniformly chose to throw a mystery over the place of 
 his birth, with the hopes, it was alleged, that several ci- 
 ties would contend Ibrtliat honour, it cannot now be ex- 
 actly ascertained, though the presumption is in favour 
 of Venice. After finishing his studies in the Greek 
 and Latin, he found it necessary to seek a livelihood as 
 a corrector of the press, and in tins capacity it is said he 
 served Aldus Manutius for several years, contributing 
 not a little to the rcmarkalile accuracy of that cclebi'ated 
 printer. He afterwards studied medichic, but felt his 
 inclinations too strongly devoted to classical litera- 
 ture to admit of his pursuing that profession with advan- 
 tage. 
 
 In 1517 he was an unsuccessful candidate for the 
 Greek chair at V^enice. Five years after, through the 
 interest of cardinal Julius de Medicis, he was made 
 professor of Greek at Florence, with a liberal salary 
 and many privileges; and he was also employed by tlu. 
 same prince in translating Galen's work De Partibvs 
 Animalium., for which he was paid at the rate often du- 
 cats a-month. His patron being raised to the papal 
 throne, by the name of Clement VII. Alcionio was in- 
 flamed with the hopes of advancing his fortune and 
 reputation under his auspices, and repaired to Rome 
 without oljtaining the pennission of the Florentines.- 
 whom he ungratefully abandoned before they could 
 piovide a successor. His reception at Rome bv no 
 means corresponded with his expectations. — All that 
 he could obtain was the chair of eloquence, where hi.s 
 emoluments and advantages were not to be compared 
 with those which he enjoyed at Florence ; and in the 
 second year after his arrival, his property and apart- 
 ments in the apostolic palace, were destroyed by the 
 troops of the cardinal Colonna, who were then besieging 
 the city. In 1527, Rome M'as taken by Charles V. and 
 while flying into the castle of St Angelo, Alcionio re- 
 ceived a wound in the arm with a musket. On the re- 
 storation of tranquillity, irritated by tlie appearance of 
 neglect on the part of the pontiff, he abandoned his party 
 and went over to cardinal Colonna, in whose house he 
 died some months after. 
 
 In the personal character of Alcionio there is indeed 
 nothing to admire. His vanity and arrogaace became 
 proverbial, and they were displayed equally in extolling 
 his own writings, and in detracting from the merits of 
 his contemporaries. >This conduct, with his brutish 
 manners, his ungrateful and avaricious disposition, ren- 
 dered him the object of general hatred. It is said 
 also, that the cardinal de Medicis was guilty of en- 
 couraging and enjoying the feuds of literary men; and 
 that, in particular, he took pleasure in wort ing on the 
 irritability of Alcionio to involve him in perpetual quar- 
 rels. The most disgusting stories are related of his 
 intemperance and gluttonv ; but these perhaps we may 
 .SB
 
 378 
 
 ALC 
 
 ALC 
 
 be allowed lo call in question, Uiougli there seems little 
 doubt that siich vices also disgraced his character. 
 
 }Iis translations from Aristotle are allowed to bo ele- 
 gant ; but not being suflicicntly accurate, they were at- 
 tacked and exposed with such dexterity by Sepulveda, a 
 learned Spaniard and translator of the same works, as 
 inflicted the severest punishment on the vanity of Alcio- 
 nio, who displayed his rage and completed his disgrace, 
 by purchasing and destroying every copy of his rival's 
 work he could find. 
 
 His dialogue, Dc Jixi/io, needs no other panegyric, 
 than that Alcionio's bitterest enemies accused him of 
 having drawn the finest passages of it from a work of 
 Cicero's Be Gloria, the manuscript of which, it was 
 said, he had stolen from a nunnery, where he was phy- 
 sician ; and lest his plagiarisms should afterwards be 
 detected, committed it to the flames. In refutation of this 
 charge, it seems only necessary to observe, that it was 
 at first propagated by Paul Jovius, his avowed rival, be- 
 fore the publication of Alcionio's eloquent orations against 
 Charles tl.c Fifth, after the taking of Rome, which are 
 acknowledged to be worthy of the genius displayed in 
 the work Dc Exilio ; the uniformity of the style, the 
 strict adaptation of the language and sentiments to the 
 speakers (who were three of the Medicaean family) and 
 to the subject, in neither of which could there be any 
 coincidence with a work of Cicero's JOe Gloria, furnish 
 additional internal evidence that it was a genuine pro- 
 duction of Alcionio's. Even the existence of the manu- 
 sci'ipl at this time seems doubtful. No one had ever 
 seen it, and the whole evidence consisted in the title of 
 such a work being observed in the catalogue of the 
 library of Bernard Justinian, which had been bequeath- 
 ed a long time before to a nunnery in Italy, but had not 
 since been discovered. 
 
 The printed works of Alcionio are, 1. ./iristotclis 
 Optra xtaria La 1 171 e, Venet. 1521. 2. Medices l.egatus, 
 seu De Jixilio, libri duo, Venet. 1522. He left in manu- 
 script a variety of works, a list of which will be found 
 in Mazzuchelli. (r) 
 
 ALCMAER, or Alkm.\ep., the capital of North Hol- 
 land, is situated near Schemeer, one of the largest lakes 
 ill North Holland, between the North Sea and the Zuy- 
 der Sea, on the bank of a drained marsh. The houses 
 are handsome, the streets clean and regular, the walks 
 beautiful, and the public buildings magnificent. The 
 marsh land, round the town, has been converted into 
 excellent meadow land, and the most productive gar- 
 dens and orchards. It is recorded in the register of 
 this city, that, at a public sale, for the benefit of the 
 orprians, 120 tulips were sold for 90,000 florins. The 
 fii ' canal, which extends from Alcmaer to Horrn, on the 
 Zuvder Sea, was cut about the beginning of the seven- 
 te nth century. The bravery of the inhabitants of Alc- 
 maei resisted the Spanish arms, in 1573, during a siege 
 of t .ree months. In 1799, however, it soon yielded to 
 th( British troops, after the second battle, near Bergen. 
 E. Lons;. 4° 38' 35". N. Lat. 52° 37' 1 1". (o) 
 
 ALCMAN, or Alcmaeon, one of the most ancient 
 among the lyric poets of Greece, flourished in the 27th 
 Olympiad, about 670 years before Christ. {Suidas in 
 ^llcman.) According to some authors, this poet was born 
 at Sardis, the capital of Lydia ; while others say, he was 
 by birth a Lacedaemonian. It appears, however, from 
 an epigram preserved by Plutarch, in his Treatise on 
 Jixilr, that he enjoyed tlie rights of a citizen of Sparta. 
 He is said to have written a considerable number of 
 
 verses, in the Doric dialect ; but these have all pcrish» 
 ed, excepting a very few fragments cited by Alhanaeus, 
 and other ancient authors. (See Alhen. 1. xiii.) lie is 
 likewise considered by some as the inventor of a variety 
 of dift'erent kinds of lyric versification, (z) 
 
 ALCO, the common name of the CanU AmerkanuB 
 of Linnaeus, (to) 
 
 ALCOUACA, a beautiful market town in Estrema- 
 dura, in Portugal, situated between the rivulets Alcoa 
 and Baca, and surrounded by mountains. On the north 
 and south-west. Sandstone Mountains press close upon 
 the town, and a high naked range of hills rises to the 
 westward, and runs parallel with the coast. Excellent 
 marble is found in a part of this range, called Porto dc 
 Moz. The surrounding country is extremely cheerful, 
 containing much coppice and many meadows. It is re- 
 markable for the celebrated Cistertian abbey, erected, 
 in 1148, by Alphonso I., which has been the general 
 sepulchre of the Portuguese monarchs, and possesses 
 an annual revenue of 20,000/. The church an- the mon- 
 astery is one of the most magnificent monuments of 
 Gothic architecture in Europe, and the chapel contains 
 the finest collection of paintings in the kingdom. Vari- 
 ous manufactures are carried on in this town ; the 
 oldest of them is in the monastery, where it was esta- 
 blished by Pombal. Cambrics, linens, and woollens, are 
 manufactured here ; but the woollen manufactory and 
 that for spinning wool is the most extensive. Alcobaca 
 is north of Lisbon, and south-west of Liria. W. Long. 
 8° 45'. N. Lat. 39° 29'. See Link's Travels in Ponugaly 
 p. 278, and Reichard's Guide cies Voijageun, torn. i. p. 
 19. (to) 
 
 ALCOCK, John, a celebrated English divine, was 
 born at Beverly, in Yorkshire, about the beginning of 
 the fifteenth century, and educated in the university of 
 Cambridge, where he took the degree of doctor of laws. 
 In 1462, he was appointed master of the rolls; in 1470, 
 a privy counsellor, and one of the ambassadors to the 
 king of Castile ; in 1471, bishop of Rochester, and one 
 of the commissioners to treat with the king of Scotland ; 
 in 1472, lord high chancellor of England; in 1476, 
 bishop of Worcester, from which he was translated, in 
 1486, to the see of Ely. Dr Alcock was distinguished 
 by his piety and learning, and by the uncommon purity 
 of his conduct. He was so deeply skilled in architec- 
 ture, that Henry II. appointed him comptroller of his 
 royal works and buildings. He founded Schools at 
 Beverly, and Kingston-upon-HuU, and built the spacious 
 hall, which belongs to the Episcopal palace of Ely. Al- 
 cock died at Worcester on the 1st October, 1500, and 
 was interred in the sumptuous and beautiful chapel at 
 Kingston-upon-Hull, which he had erected for himself. 
 Besides some religious works, he published an address 
 to the clergy of his diocese, under the title of Galli can- 
 tus ad Com/iatres suos ; or, the Crowing of the Cock to 
 his Brethren, (o) 
 
 ALCOGRADE, or Alcohmeter; a name given by 
 Hassenfratz, to an areometrical instrument, for determin- 
 ing the proportions of alcohol and water, in any combi- 
 nations of these two fluids. See jinnales de Chiniie, or 
 Repertory of Arts. vol. xiii. p. 45. (o) 
 
 ALCOHOL. See Alkohol. 
 
 ALCOR, the Arabian name of the beautiful little star 
 near Alioth, in the Great Bear, {yi) 
 
 ALCORAN. SeeAL-KORAN. 
 
 ALCOVE, a recess, or part of a chamber for holding 
 a bed, separated by a partition of columns. They seem
 
 ALC 
 
 ALC 
 
 579 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 to have originated in Africa or Asia. From Arabia, 
 they were introduced by the Saracens into Spain, where 
 they are much in use. They have also been used in 
 other parts of Europe ; but they seem to have been 
 banished from Enghsh architecture, (tv) 
 
 ALCUIN, an eminent EngUsh writer, was born in 
 the north of England, about the middle of the eighth 
 century. He received his education under Egbert, 
 archbishop of York, who appointed him keeper of the 
 curious library, which he had established in that city ; 
 and who afterwards made him deacon of the church of 
 York, and abbot of Canterbury. In the year 793, he was 
 sent on an cmliassy to the emperor Charlemagne, by 
 the king of Mercia. The emperor was so delighted 
 with the character and talents of the ambassador, that 
 he invited him to become his preceptor, and to assist 
 him in settling tlie religious contentions, with which 
 speculative theologians had disturbed the tranquillity of 
 the kingdom. Under the care of Alcuin, Charlemagne 
 was initiated into the sciences of mathematics, rhetoric, 
 logic, and divinity ; and Alcuin stood so high in the 
 royal favour, that he was denominated the emperor's 
 delight. A new heresy having been propagated by Fe- 
 lix, bishop of Urgel, in Catalonia, Alcuin wrote several 
 books in defence of the orthodox faitli ; and, at the coun- 
 cil of Frankfort, held in 794, in the presence of three 
 hundred bishops, he convinced Felix of his errors, and 
 induced him to return into the bosom of the church. 
 
 The rapid advancement of learning in France, during 
 the brilliant reign of Charlemagne, was chiefly owing to 
 the enlightened exertions of Alcuin. By his advice and 
 assistance, the universities of Paris, Tours, Fulden, 
 Soissons, and several others, were founded and endow- 
 ed ; and an academy, for the advancement of learning, 
 was established in the imperial palace, and composed of 
 the most distinguished literati in the kingdom. Every 
 member, when in the academy, assumed the name of 
 some distinguished personage of antiquity, and Alcuin 
 chose the appellation of Albinus Flaccus. After several 
 attempts to withdraw himself from the bustle and splen- 
 dour of the French court, he obtained leave, in 801, to 
 retire to his abbey of St Martin's at Tours. Here he 
 maintained a constant correspondence with Charlemagne, 
 who often tried to allure him into the activity of public 
 life. But no inducements could draw him from his 
 peaceful and honourable retreat, where he spent his 
 time in the superintendence of a seminary, which he 
 had founded in the city, and in those acts of piety and 
 devotion which are congenial with the feelings of every 
 enlightened mind. He died at Tours on the 19th May, 
 A. D. 804, and was buried in tlie church of St Martin's, 
 where an epitaph, of his own composition, records his 
 character and labours. 
 
 The works of Alcuin were collected and published 
 in one volume folio, by Andrew du Chesne, at Paris, in 
 1617. They contain tracts upon scripture, doctrine, 
 discipline, morality, and history, and likewise letters 
 and poems. The style of Alcuin is neat and animated. 
 His compositions are often distinguished by a lively elo- 
 quence, by purity of language, and an elegance of ex- 
 pression. A long list of his works may be found in 
 Bayle, or the Biograjihia Britarjinca. (o) 
 
 ALCYON, or Halcyon, the ancient name of the 
 birds of Linnaeus' tribe Atcedo, and adopted by the 
 French naturalists as the denomination of the same ge- 
 nus. See Alcedo, Ornithology. (/) 
 
 ALCYONE, the name of the brightest star of the 
 Pleiades, marked y in our catalogues, {w) 
 
 ALCYONIUM, a genus of zoophytes; for an ac- 
 count of which, see Zooimiytolooy. (J") 
 
 ALDEBARAN, or Palilicium, the Arabian name 
 of a star of the fiist magnitude, situated in the eye oi 
 Taurus, and generally called the liuil's Eye. See IIU 
 toire de I'yhtronomie par M. Bailly. (w) 
 
 ALDERMAN, among our ancient Saxon ancestors, 
 was the second of their three orders of nobility. Aider- 
 man, in its original, is compounded of two words, elder 
 and maii^ Elderman. It must be however observed, that 
 among the Saxons that word was joined to others, still 
 further designating title or office : Tlius they had Ahlrr- 
 mannus Tolius An^^lice, Atderina?i?izi.i Hfffia, Comitatua, 
 Civita/is, Burgi, Castetli, Hiindrcdi, sive IVaJienfac/iii, 
 and Decimorum. The first of these seems to be the 
 same officer to whom the title was afterwards given ot 
 Cajiitalin justitiarius Ang-lia;, or chief justice of Eng- 
 land ; the second we suppose to have been a magistrate 
 acting with occasional authority, answering to the pre- 
 sent office of his majesty's justice of assize ; the third 
 held a middle rank between what was afterwards called 
 earl and sherift"; he sat at the trial causes, with the 
 bishop; and whilst the latter expounded the ecclesias- 
 tical, it was the duly of the former to declare the com- 
 mon law of the land: The fourth, fifth, and following 
 offices, perhaps, are now combined in that of our pre- 
 sent alderman, whose duties, Sec. we shall notice, after 
 having enumerated those which anciently belonged to 
 the title. We learn from the most respectable autho- 
 rities, that Comes, iEldorman, and Earl, are equivalent 
 in Latin Saxon, and Danish Saxon. The holders of 
 these offices were admitted into the Wittenagemot, or 
 great council of the nation, and gave consent to pub- 
 lic statutes ; they assisted the bishops, as we have be- 
 fore seen ; but except to keep order among the free- 
 holders, and to interpose with their opinion, they had 
 no further power: they received a third of the fines, 
 however, and, as most of the punishments were then 
 pecuniary, this formed a considerable part of their re- 
 sources. Excepting when restrained in their judicial 
 authority by the bishops, they appear to have been pos- 
 sessed of the highest dignity and power; this office was 
 therefore generally enjoyed by Thanes of large estates, 
 and ancient families. Possessmg the civil and military 
 government of his shire, the earl swelled into the im- 
 portance of a petty king ; and in his own domains, as- 
 sumed that title in his subscription of charters and every 
 other deed. It was in war that he enjoyed actually the 
 consideration he only usurped in peace ; and that the 
 Thane, who durst not oppose the bishop even in his 
 own shiremotes or courts, became the Heretogen of 
 commander, and was honoured as a powerful prince. 
 This office was, in the most ancient times of the Anglo- 
 Saxon governments, filled by royal appointment ; but 
 towards the conclusion of that period, aldemien were 
 elected by the votes of the shire. Lands were allotted 
 them to enable them to support their dignity ; and froni 
 this custom we have the term " the earl's lands :" To 
 these may be added the fines above mentioned, and other 
 less important perquisites. Though possessing so muck 
 power, and, from being the choice of the people, so 
 much popularity, they could be displaced by the sove- 
 reign, when they were either thouqrht to be too power- 
 ful, or not sufficiently suppliant. Towards tlie conclu- 
 3B 2
 
 380 
 
 ALU 
 
 ALB 
 
 sion of the Anglo-Saxon government, lliey wei-e most 
 tVenucntly succeeded by ihcir sons ; — and a power which 
 at first was elective and uncertain, became, by conni- 
 vance, by stratagem, or by force, hereditary and fixed. 
 As in the ancient governments of the Anglo-Saxons, the 
 term alderman was applied, in conjunction with other 
 titles, to many offices, so in our ancient governments 
 the law dictated the title annexed also to that of others; 
 thus we had the Aldermen of the Merchants, of Hos- 
 pitals, of ilundreds, or Wapentakes, &c. &c. 
 
 The duties of aldermen, as the title at present is un- 
 derstood, the privileges and advantages of the office, 
 may be collected from the following observations : — Al- 
 dermen are joined to the mayor, or chief-magistrate of 
 a corporate town or city, for the better administration of 
 his office; they form, together with him, a council; and 
 govern the place where they reside according to the re- 
 gulations of its charters ; whilst they also act as justices 
 of the peace, (by the 15th Geo. II.,) and in that character 
 take cognisance of civil as well as criminal matters ; that 
 is to say, at one time they administer laws emanating 
 from a British parliament, and at another they act under 
 a code of corporation-laws, many of which have been 
 pronoiniced from the highest legal authorities, laws in 
 restraint of trade; in other words, laws made in open 
 hostility to those of the kingdom. Their numliers vary 
 in various places ; the extremes arc six to twenty-six ; 
 out of these the mayor is elected, who fills his office for 
 a year, and is then succeeded by another; and thus that 
 office circulates by a regular, fixed, and positive routine. 
 In London the 26 wards of the city have each an alder- 
 man to represent them in the civic council. When one 
 dies or resigns, a successor is chosen by the wardmote, 
 (or ward-meeting,) that is vacant ; he is admitted, and 
 is sworn into office by the lord-mayor and the other 
 aldermen. Amongst their privileges, they are exempt 
 from sitting in inferior offices ; they can neither be put 
 upon assizes, nor serve on juries. See Millar on Go- 
 rvemmerit, vol. i. p. 78. Hume's Hist. vol. i. p. 211. note 
 G. (0 
 
 ALDERNEY, Jurigny, Ftub.no, the ylrka of the Ro- 
 mans, an island in the English Channel, and on the coast 
 of France, belonging to Great Britain. It is about four 
 miles from west to cast, and nearly eight miles in cir- 
 cumference. It is separated from Cape la Hogue by a 
 strait two leagues broad, through which the French 
 fleet escaped, in 1692, after their defeat at La Hogue. 
 The ridge of rocks called the Gaskings or Casyuets, 
 and those named Burroches, arc much dreaded by mari- 
 ners, and the whole coast is dangerous in stormy wea- 
 ther. In 1119, prince Henry, duke of Normandy, with 
 many of the nobility, were overtaken by a storm, and 
 lost near Alderney ; and, on the same rocks, in 1744, 
 the Victory of 110 guns, admiral sir John Balchen, 
 foundered, and the whole crew, amounting to 1100, 
 perished. The town La Villc, situated in the centre of 
 the island, contains 200 houses, and 1000 inhabitants. 
 The air is extremely salubrious, and the land in a high 
 state of cultivation. Alderney is governed by its own 
 laws. It is famous for its excellent breed of cows. W. 
 Long. 2° 7'. N. Lat. 49" 45'. See History of the Bri- 
 tish Isles, and Blackstone's Commentaries, vol. 1. p. 107. 
 Qtv) 
 
 ALDHELM, or Adki.me, a celebrated English wri- 
 ter, was born at Malmesbury about the middle of the 
 seventh century, and was educated by Maidulphus, or 
 ^^actU^fT, a learned ScotcJunaii, at his native town, and 
 
 afterwaida in France and Italy. Ui)on the death of Iii» 
 master, Aldhelm succeeded to the scliool, and erected 
 a splendid monastery, of wiiicli lie was the first abbot. 
 After the kingdom of the West Saxons was divided 
 into two dioceses, king Ina, his relation, promoted Ald- 
 helm to the bishopric of Shireburn, in 705. When he 
 went to Rome to be consecrated by Pope Sergius I. he 
 is said to have reproved his holiness for having a child; 
 but this is probably to be ranked among those miracles 
 and falsehoods, with which superstition lias stained the 
 memory of Aldhelm. Aldhelm died at Shireburn on 
 the 25th May, 709. 
 
 Aldhelm was acquainted with the most celebrated 
 Greek and Roman authors, and was the first Englishman 
 who wrote in the Latin language. His Latin composi- 
 tions, both in prose and verse, were deemed extraordi- 
 nary productions, and excited the admiration of the 
 most learned foreigners. Alfred reckoned him the best 
 of the Saxon poets ; and he was equally distinguished by 
 his skill in music, and in the liberal arts. An account 
 of Aldhelm's works, which it would be tedious to give 
 in this work, may be seen in the Biogra/ihia Britannica ; 
 and in Bayle, under Adelme. See also Henry's His- 
 tory of Britain, 8vo, vol. iv. p. 10 ; Warton's History of 
 Ln^iish Poetry, vol. i. dissert. 2 ; and Cave's. Hist. Lii^ 
 sect. 7. (o) 
 
 ALDRED, a haughty and ambitious prelate, who rais- 
 ed himself from ttie low station of a monk to the arch- 
 bishopric of York. About the year 1050, nearly four 
 years after he was promoted to the see of Worcester, he 
 went to Jerusalem by the way of Hungary ; and on his 
 return he was sent by Edward as ambassador to the em- 
 peror Henry II. Upon the death of his patron Edward, 
 m 1066, he crowned Harold his successor, and after- 
 wards placed the diadem upon the head of William the 
 Conqueror. This imperious monarch obeyed the arch- 
 bishop of York with the most implicit servility, the off- 
 spring cither of gratitude or of fear. In consequence 
 of an unjust seizure of some of Afdred's property, and 
 a rcfusaf of the high sheriff to grant him restitution, the 
 prelate, followed lay a train of ecclesiastics, abruptly 
 entered the, king's council, when deliberating at West- 
 minster, and addressed the monarch in terms of the 
 most extreme insolence and reproach. The king threw 
 himself at the feet of the archbishop, and requested to 
 know the offence which he had committed. When the 
 nobility expressed their indignation at seeing their so- 
 vereign at the prelate's feet, the haughty Aldred ex- 
 claimed, " Let him lie, he is not fallen at my feet, but at 
 the feet of St Peter." He at length condescended to 
 raise the king, who granted him redress, and loaded him 
 with presents. From the rigour with which William 
 afterwards treated the English prelates, Aldred died of 
 grief and vexation, and, with his dying breath, pronoun- 
 ced a curse upon the head of the oppressor. 
 
 Aldred was in no respect distinguished as a literary 
 character. He is indebted for immortality to the ambi- 
 tion and arrogance which marked his conduct. The 
 luiman mind is pleased with the recital even of the ini- 
 quities of unprincipled greatness. Amusement and in- 
 struction may be gathered from details at which the 
 heart rises either in pity or indignation. How debased 
 must have been the feelings and understanding of the 
 English people, and how great the insolence of eccle- 
 siastical power, when a monk of Winchester durst throw 
 himself into the deliberative council of William the 
 Conqueror, and almost trample upon the person of that
 
 ALD 
 
 ALD 
 
 i81 
 
 iiupci'ious mona»"ch ! See Hume's liini. vdI. i. p. 2<j9, 
 chap. iv. (o) 
 
 ALDRICIi, Henry, an accomplished scholar, and 
 eminent divuie, was born al Westminster in 1647. He 
 was admitted into Christ's Church Collcj^e, Oxford, in 
 1622, where he prosecuted his studies with ardour and 
 success, and took out the degrees of Bachelor and Mas- 
 ter of Arts, and Bachelor and Doctor of Divinity. In 
 1681 he was appointed canon, and in 1689dcan of Ciirist's 
 Church ; and in the same year he had the honour of be- 
 ing appointed by William HI. one of the commissioners 
 for altering the church service, and bringing about an 
 accommodation with the dissenters. During the reign 
 of James H., he wrote several tracts against popery; a 
 subject which, according to bishop Burnet, "he exa- 
 mined with a solidity of judgment, a clearness of argu- 
 ment, a depth of learning, and a vivacity of writing, far 
 beyond any thing that had before appeared in our lan- 
 guage." In 1702, Dr Aldrich was chosen prolocutor of 
 the convocation. He died on the 14th December, 1710, 
 and was interred in the cathedral, according to his own 
 request, without any monimient to distinguish his grave. 
 
 Music, poetry, and architecture, seem to have been 
 the favourite studies of Aldrich. His musical talents 
 were of the first order, as appears from the anthems, 
 &c. which he composed for the church-service. He is 
 the author of the popular catch, entitled, "Hark, the 
 bonny Christ-Church Bells;" and two of his Latin poems 
 are published in the "il/u«ie Atiglicaiue." The following 
 humorous epigram, entitled, '■'■ Caiisie Bibcndi" has been 
 ascribed to Aldrich, though others suppose it to be the 
 production of Pere Sirmond : 
 
 Si bene quid memini, causK sunt (ininqiie I)ibendi, 
 Hospitis adventus ; pr3eseiis sitis atque Cutura ; 
 Aut villi boiiitas ; aut quselibet altera causa. 
 
 The following translation of this epigram seems to 
 convey the ideas of the original better than those which 
 have been usually given : 
 
 If memory fail me not a little, 
 There are five reasons why we tipple : 
 Good wine, — an old com]ianion by, — 
 Because 1 am, — or may be dry, — 
 Or any other reason wjjy. 
 
 The talents of Aldrich, as an architect, were of the 
 first order. His " Elements of Architecture," which 
 he left behind him in manuscript, and which were trans- 
 lated and published by Mr Smyth, in 1790, display an 
 intimate acquaintance with the science of building; 
 while the buildings which he designed, form a lasting 
 monument to Lis taste and genius. Peckwater Court, 
 at Christ Church, Oxford, and the parish church of All 
 Saints in Oxford, were built from the designs of Dr 
 Aldrich. See Dallaway's Anecdotes of the Arts in Eng- 
 land, p. 103. 
 
 Aldrich was a man of distinguished talents, admired 
 for the amiable qualities of his heart, and esteemed as 
 the friend and patron of learning. His unaffected mo- 
 desty prevented him from putting his name to the tracts 
 which he published. He wrote a work, entitled, Artis 
 Logics Coinpcndium, 1707 ; Elements of Geometry, which 
 were never published; Notes on Havercamp's edition 
 of Josephus ; and other books, which may be seen in 
 more detailed sketches of his life, (to) 
 
 ALDROVANDA, in Botany, a generic name given 
 In honour of Aldrovandus, to a water plant that is pretty 
 
 common in Italy and the south of Trance. It is arranged 
 by the Linnaean botanists under Uic class and order Pen- 
 tandria Pentagynia ; and by Jussieu in his family of Ca- 
 parides. See Bota.ny. {f) 
 
 ALDROVANDI, Ulysses, in Biography, a cele- 
 brated Italian, who was one of tlie earliest and most 
 assiduous improvers of Natural History, after the revi- 
 val of literature in Europe. He was boin at Bologna 
 in 1525, and was descended from a noble family. He 
 commenced his studies in his native city, and afterwards 
 prosecuted them at Padua; but it is not certain of what 
 nature these earlier studies were. He seems to have 
 been, even while very young, a zealous inquirer after 
 truth, and was probably very liberal in delivering the 
 opinions which he had formed; for we find that, in 1550, 
 he had rendered himself an object of jealous animad- 
 version to the Popish bigots of that age ; and \vas obli- 
 ged to repair to Rome, to defend himself against a charge 
 of heresy. In this seat of the polite arts, Aldrovandi 
 occupied Jiimself in the study of antiquities; and drew 
 up an account of ancient statues, which was published 
 in a work on Roman antiquities by Lucio Mauso. Here, 
 too, he became acquainted with Rondclet, an eminent 
 writer on fishes ; and appears now first to have imbibed 
 that taste for natural history for wluch he was after- 
 wards so much distinguished. Returning to his native 
 city, he entered on the study of botany; and, in 1553, 
 was made a graduate in physic by that university, an 
 honour which was soon followed by an appointment to 
 the professorship of philosopliy and logic, and the lec- 
 tureship on botany. From tliis period we may date his 
 eminence as a naturalist. He examined with ardour and 
 assiduity every department of Nature's works, and 
 formed a plan of describing and arranging them, so ex- 
 tensive as to entitle liim to tlic appellation of the Modern 
 Pliny. In the .prosecution of this plan, he spared neither 
 labour nor expense. He collected books, maintained 
 an epistolary correspondence with learned men in almost 
 every part of Europe; undertook many journeys; and 
 employed, at a great expense, persons to collect rare 
 and curious productions, and eminent artists to delineate 
 and engrave them. In prosecuting these undertakings, 
 and in the formation of a museum, he received liberal 
 assistance from otheis; but it has been asserted, that ho 
 entirely exhausted his own fortune, and involved him- 
 self in such pecuniary difficulties, that he died in the 
 hospital at Bologna, in tlie year 1605, having attained 
 the age of 79. This fact, so disgraceful to human na- 
 ture, there seems reason for calling in question. Be- 
 sides that it appears so extremely improbable, that the 
 senate of Bologna, and so many illustrious princes and 
 noblemen, who had hitherto been his patrons, should so 
 disgracefully abandon him, we have the positive asser- 
 tion of some contemporary writers, that he died rich, 
 and loaded with honours ; and the silence of other au- 
 thors, who had had every opportunity of ascertaining 
 so remarkable a circumstance, furnishes an additional 
 proof of its falsehood. 
 
 The university of Bologna was much indebted to Al- 
 drovandi ; for, besides bequeathing to it his valuable mu- 
 seum, which was the principal part of that which now 
 exists there, he was the chief promoter of tlie botanic 
 garden, which v.'as founded at Bologna, in the year 1567. 
 The works on natural history that pass under his name, 
 form 13 volumes in folio ; but it is not certain that more 
 than six are genuine, viz. three on birds, and one tn 
 insects, which were published during his life in 1599;
 
 382 
 
 ALE 
 
 ALE 
 
 one on bloodless uuimvils; and one on fishes, ^\luch wci-c 
 composed by him, and left ready for publication. The 
 other seven, treating on quadrupeds, serpents, monsters, 
 metals, and trees, were coinpiled partly from materials 
 collected by him, and paitly from other sources. Besides, 
 these volumes on natural history, Aldrovandi is said to 
 have composed essays and treatises on a great variety of 
 subjects. He also left a llortus niccu.i, or collection of 
 dried plants, which filled IC large folio volumes, and 
 which was to be seen nearly a century after his death. 
 
 The talents and industry of this naturalist must cer- 
 tainly have been great ; and had these been equalled by 
 his taste and judgment, his writings would have been 
 uivaluable. He is characterized by Buffon as the most 
 laborious and the most learned of all the naturalists ; 
 and tne same writer highly commends the plan and dis- 
 tribution of his works, and the exactness of his descrip- 
 tions. He is still quoted with respect ; and it is probable 
 that as our own knowledge increases, and we thus be- 
 come more able to appreciate his merits, we tyay derive 
 from his writings considerable advantage. 
 
 The following is a correct list of the multifarious pro- 
 ductions that are ascribed to Aldrovandi. 1. Ornitholo- 
 gix, hoc est, de Miihus Hislfjrix, lib. xii., 3 vols, fol., 
 first published at Bologna in 1 599, and frequently repub- 
 lished, both at Bologna and at Frankfort. 2. De Ani- 
 malibus InsectisyVib. vii. cu7niconibu.i.,io\. Bononiae, 1602. 
 3. DeReli(/uisAnimalihunExangiiibus,\\b.\\. fol. Bonon. 
 1606. 4. Z>f Piscibus, lib. v., ct dc Cells, lib. i., fol. Bonon. 
 1613. 5. De Quadru/iedibu.i so/i/iedibiis Vclumen inte- 
 grum, fol. Bon. 1616. 6. Quadritfiedum omnium Bisulco- 
 rum Historia, drawn up from our author's papers by 
 Joh. Cornelius Utervesius, and the famous Thomas 
 Dempster, fol. Bon. 1613. 7. De Quadrufiedibus digitatis 
 viviparis, lib. iii., et De Quadrufiedibus digitalis ovi/iaris, 
 lib. ii., fol. Bonon. 1637. 8. Serpentum et Draconum 
 Historia, lib. ii., fol. Bon. 1640. 9. Monstrorum Histo- 
 ria, cum Paralifiomenis Historix omnium Animalium, folio, 
 Bon. 1642. 10. J\Iustcum MctalUcum, in lib. iv., fol. Bon. 
 1648. W. Dendrologix iiatiiratis, scu arborum historix, 
 lio. ii. fol. Bon. 1548, and frequently republished. 12. 
 Animalium Encomia, fol. Ilanovice, 1619. 13. Antid'ita- 
 rium Bononiense, 4to, Bon. 1574; besides the Essay on 
 Ancient Statues, above mentioned, published in Lucio 
 Mauro's " Antichita de la Citta di Roma," 8vo. Venet. 
 1556 ; a Latin letter De Lotis, and several unedited ma- 
 nuscripts. (/) 
 
 ALE, a fermented liquor, made from malt and hops. 
 This drink was originally made in Egypt, where it sup- 
 plied the want of liquors prepared from the grape, and 
 has been a favourite beverage in almost all countries. 
 For the facts connected with the history of this liquor, 
 see Diodorus Siculus, lib. iv. cap. 26.; Pliny, A'at. Hist. 
 lib. xiv. cap. 29.; Henry's Hist. ^//England, Svo. vol. ii. 
 p. 364; Hume's Hist. vol. ii. p. 224; Pinkerton's Geogra- 
 phy, vol. i. p. 65. For a method of preserving ale in long 
 voyages, see a paper by Dr Stubbs in the Phil. Trans. 
 No. 27. On the salubrity of ale; see Cullen's Mat. Med. 
 vol. i. p. 418. See also Brewing, (o) 
 
 ALECTO, in Mythology, one of the three Furies. 
 Virgil has given a fine description of her in the seventh 
 book of the JEneid. (w) 
 
 ALECTORIA, the name of a stone found in the gall- 
 bladders of old cocks; which, according to some, is ge- 
 nerated in that cavity, while others think that it has been 
 swallowed, to promote digestion, (w) 
 
 ALECTOROMANTIA, from ummu^, a cock, and 
 
 pi.it\iTti!i, divination. A species of divination performed 
 by placing grains of wheat upon spaces marked by the 
 letters of the alphabet. From the letters corresponding 
 to the grains picked up l)y the animal, the ionuncs of 
 individuals were predicted, (w) 
 
 ALKCTRA, a genus of plants, of the class Didyna- 
 mia, and order Gymnospermia. Sec Botany, (jiu) 
 
 ALECTRIDES, in Zoology, the name given by Cu- 
 vier to a family of birds, of the order Gallinacex, and 
 which have wings adapted to flying. (/) 
 
 ALEM ANNI, a body of men of all nations, but chief- 
 ly Suevi, who, in the third century, impelled either by a 
 thirst of plunder, or a desire of martial glory, frequently 
 ravaged Gaul and Italy, and experienced great variety 
 of fortune, till they were finally dispersed. They were 
 characterized by the most obstinate bravery, and by a 
 love of freedom which nothing could extinguish. Those 
 who were taken prisoners chose rather to die than be 
 sold for slaves ; and some of them, when sold, often de- 
 stroyed both themselves and their children. See Dion 
 Cassias, lib. Ixxvii.; Gibbon, vol. i. p. 4.; vol. ii. p. 21. 
 Ancient Univ. History, vol. xvii. p. 288. (w) 
 
 ALEMBERT, John le Rond D', one of the most il- 
 lustrious mathematicians and literary characters of the 
 18th century, was born at Paris on the 17th November, 
 1717. Being exposed by his mother, Madame de Ten- 
 cin, near the church of St Jean le Rond, from which he 
 derives his name, the infant, in a slate of extreme weak- 
 ness, and almost dying, was carried to a commissary, 
 who placed it under the charge of a glazier's wife, with 
 whom it might receive that kind of alleviation of dis- 
 tress which a public hospital could not easily supply. A 
 few days had scarcely elapsed, till M. Destouches, the fa- 
 ther of D'Alembert, heard of the commissary's humanity, 
 and under the impulse of duty and feeling, provided for 
 the education and independence of the child. 
 
 D'Alembert received the first elements of learning 
 from the Jansenists of the College of the Four Nations. 
 He had acquired, at the age of 10, all that his masters 
 could teach him ; and in his early progress, as well as in 
 a Commentary which he wrote on the Epistle to the 
 Romans, he exhibited proofs of that brilliant genius 
 which has conducted him to immortal fame. Proud of 
 the talents of their young pupil, the Jansenists com- 
 pared him to the celebrated Pascal, and endeavoured to 
 perfect the resemblance by directing his attention to 
 the mathematical sciences. Here the genius of D'Alem- 
 bert found its proper field of exertion ; and though the 
 Jansenists, who perceived his passion for the sciences, 
 used every means to unfix his attachment, yet nothing 
 could induce him to abandon a study, where truth, un- 
 mixed with error, is the splendid reward of investiga- 
 tion.' 
 
 After quitting the college, D'Alembert naturally- 
 looked around him for some tranquil retreat. Finding 
 himself alone in the world, without a relation, and with- 
 out a home, he sought an asylum in the house of his 
 nurse, where he continued for 40 years, prosecuting his 
 favourite studies; concealing from her the celebrity 
 which he had gained ; and contributing, by his genero- 
 sity, to the comfort of her domestic circle. His nurse, 
 who had heard him spoken of as the author of several 
 works, beheld him with pity rather than admiration. 
 " You will never," said she, " be any thing but a philo- 
 sopher; and what is a philosopher but a fool, who tor- 
 ments himself during his life, that people may talk of 
 him when he is no more."
 
 AI^EMBEirr. 
 
 383 
 
 While D'Alcmbert was pursuing with ardour the 
 study ot geouiciry, many orij^iual views picscntucl tliciu- 
 selves to his pciictratuig nuiid ; and he began to I'eel 
 that high elevation of soul wliich the lUseovery oi truth, 
 and the anlieipation ol lame, never Tail to inspue. but 
 this, lever of delight did not long continue. As he be- 
 came acquainted with the writings of otiicrs, he saw 
 with vexation that he had been anticipated in his disco- 
 veries ; and finduig himself stripped of the first fruits of 
 his talents, he abandoned his mind to melancholy and 
 despair. He thought tliat Heaven had denied him ge- 
 nius, and that he was lor ever doomed to tread in the 
 footsteps of his predecessors. 13ut the love of study, 
 which still animated his breast, prevented the surrender 
 ot his mind to the first suggestions of disappointment. 
 
 The fortune of 1200 livres a-year, which D'Alcmbert 
 enjoyed, being scarcely sufiicient to maintain a com- 
 fortable independence, he resolved, at the earnest soli- 
 citation of his friends, to follow one of the learned pro- 
 fessions. After taking his second degree in arts, he 
 commenced the study of jurisprudence; but as his mind 
 was perpetually tvirning to its favourite pursuits, the 
 whole time of his law noviciate was consumed in the 
 study of mathematics. With a degree of patience, how- 
 ever, which could scarcely have been expected, he took 
 out his iaw degrees, and was admitted an advocate ; but 
 his predominant passion overruled every motive of pru- 
 dence, and induced him to reUnquish a profession which 
 afforded no scope for the display either of his taste or 
 genius. The pressing entreaties of his friends again 
 turned his thoughts to the necessity of engaging in 
 some lucrative employment. In the profession of me- 
 dicine he perceived room for the exercise of his talents; 
 and with a bold, though short-lived resolution, he deter- 
 mined to follow it with all the energy of his mind. He 
 even conveyed to a friend the whole of his mathem<ftical 
 works, lest his attention might be distracted with the 
 recollection of early studies; but this measure, bold as 
 it was, soon proved to be ineffectual. Neither the lux- 
 uries ot opulence, nor the dread of poverty, could over- 
 come the powerful attachments which he had formed : 
 His mathematical books gradually returned into his li- 
 brary : The study of medicine was prosecuted with in- 
 creasing languor, and his whole soul was again absorb- 
 ed ill the study of geometry. 
 
 The talents of D'Alcmbert were in some measure 
 known by some corrections on the Jnalyse Demontree 
 of Father Reinau, which had occurred to him when stu- 
 dying that work; and in 174 1, he was thought worthy, at 
 the age of 24, to be admitted a member of the Acade- 
 my of Sciences. 
 
 In the year 174.'i, appeared the Traile de Dynamiyue 
 of D'Alcmbert, founded on a new and fertile principle 
 of mechanics. He has shown, that in whatever way the 
 bodies of one system act upon those of another, the ac- 
 tion of the moving forces may, at every instant, be de- 
 composed into two parts, the one producing the motion 
 of the body in the second instant, and the other destroy- 
 ing that which it had in the first. This simple principle 
 had been in some measure employed by James Ber- 
 nouilli, in his solution of the problem of the centre of 
 oscillation ; but D'Alcmbert made the discovery his 
 own, by simplifying and generalizing it, and by applying 
 it to the resolution of many beautiful problems, and par- 
 ticularly that of the procession of the equinoxes. 
 
 The mathematical sciences were enriched with an- 
 other discovery by this illustrious geometer. The equa- 
 
 tions to which he was conducted in the application of his 
 new prhiciple to the theory of iluids, often resisted all 
 the resources of the common analysis. A new calculus, 
 theretore, seemed necessary for their resolution, and 
 D'Alcmbert had the high honour of making the dis- 
 covery. In his lirjlcxiun nur Ich cuu.ien gciiira/rs (Irs 
 Vcjits which was crowned by the Academy of Berlin in 
 1746, he gave the first details of the integral calculus 
 with partial difterenccs ; and in 1747, he applied it to 
 (he solution of Dr Taylor's problem of vibrating chords. 
 Eulcr seems to have given some hints concerning this 
 calculus in a paper published in the Pctersburgh Trans- 
 actions for 1734; but D'Alcmbert has evidently the 
 honour of the discovery, though the nature and algo- 
 rithm of the calculus was afterwards completely ex- 
 plained by Euler, in his paper, entitled, " InvestigaCio 
 Juuiclirmum, Sec." 1762. 
 
 His treatise on Dynamics was followed, in 1752, by 
 his Jinsais d'une nrmvcUe Tlicorie da mouxiement des 
 -Fluidci- a work of singular merit, by his Elemens dc 
 Alusi(jue Theorujue et Pratiijiie, .luh'ant les Princijies de 
 M. Jiameau, 1752 ; and by his Rrchfrchcs sur le Calcul 
 Integral, in the Memoirs of the Berlin Academy for the 
 same year. 
 
 Hitherto the talents of D'Alcmbert had been applied 
 chiefly to geometry and physics ; and though both 
 these branches of knowledge were deeply indebted to 
 his genius, yet the reputation which he enjoyed had 
 scarcely extended beyond the small circle of friends, 
 with whom he was daily associated. The only persons 
 in office with whom he was acquainted, were the two 
 ministers, Messrs D'Argenson, men who were distin- 
 guislied by their abilities, as well as by the most amia- 
 ble qualities of the heart. His fame, however, began to 
 extend, and, as if it had been confined by some unnatu- 
 ral restraint, it now spread with astonishing rapidity. 
 The dedication of his treatise on Winds, to the king of 
 Prussia, had procured him the notice of that patron of 
 merit ; and he was now rewarded with a pension from 
 the French king, a favour which he owed more to the 
 friendship of the count D'Argenson, than to the wisdom 
 and generosity of his sovereign. 
 
 While D'Alcmbert was treading in the thomy paths 
 of geometry, he had few rivals, and therefore few ene- 
 mies. But when the Encyclopaedia, which he had under- 
 taken in conjunction with Diderot, gave him frequent 
 opportunities of displaying his fine taste for literature 
 and the arts, a crowd of inferior authors, who felt their 
 reputation obscured by the splendour of his name, con- 
 spired to disturb his repose, and to bring him down to 
 their own level, by the formidable weapons of calumny 
 and detraction. The discourse, which he prefixed to 
 this immortal work, and the other articles, with which 
 he enriched it, exhibited a depth and fertility of under- 
 standing, an elegance and correctness of taste, a bril- 
 liancy and luxuriance of imagination, a richness and 
 splendour of eloquence, a clearness and energy of style, 
 which are seldom united in the same character, and 
 which have raised him to a most distinguished place 
 among those illustrious philosophers, who have been the 
 brightest ornaments of their species. 
 
 A short time afterwards, he published his Melanges 
 df P/iUosofi/iie, D' Hintrjirc ft dt Literature ; his Memoirs 
 of Christina, queen of Sweden ; his Essay on the Inter- 
 course of Men of Letters with Persons of Rank and Of- 
 fice ; and his Traductioti de Diverse Morceaux de Tacite, 
 works which are adorned with the most generous and
 
 384 
 
 ALEMBERT. 
 
 exalted sentiments, and which, by r;iising his fame, in- 
 creased ihc number and the malignity ol his enemies. 
 
 The next work published by D'Alembert was tlie lie 
 cherclus stir dijj'crcntsi Ptjints imjvirlunts du Hystemf du 
 Mmde, in 1754, and 1756, in which he improved the so- 
 lution of the problem of three bodies. The honour of 
 resolvmg this impoituul problem belongs equally to 
 Euler, Clairaut, and D'Alembert, who, without the least 
 communication, gave a more accurate determination ot 
 the lunar incfiualilies, as considered by Newton, confirm- 
 ed some which he had merely learned from observa- 
 tion, and discovered others which liad hitherto been un- 
 known. Clairaut had the honour of being the first who 
 applied his solution to the motion of comets ; and in 
 1758, he announced to the academy, that the comet of 
 1682 would appear in the beginning of 1759. The cu- 
 riosity of the public was excited by this notice, and the 
 name of Clairaut was every where mentioned with ap- 
 plause. In opposition to the claims of Halley, he was 
 regarded as the sole author of the prediction; and some 
 of his pupils were imprudent enough to maintain, that 
 the solution of Clairaut was more applicable to the mo- 
 tion of comets, than those of Euler and D'Alembert. 
 This claim of superiority Clairaut was supposed to have 
 arrogated in private. Euler was in no respect affected 
 with the injustice that liad been done to him ; but 
 D'Alembert, whose temper was more keen, and who 
 then lived in Paris, where these erroneous opinions were 
 cherished, could not remain a silent spectator. He at- 
 tacked the solution given by Clairaut as inaccurate and 
 defective, and resolved the problem of comets in a way 
 which was at once simple and complete. Thus were 
 two of the first mathematicians in Europe opposed to 
 each other in open war ; and thoHgh the subject of dis- 
 pute was intelligible only to a few, yet every literary 
 circle in Paris was ranged on the side of its favourite 
 philosopher. Clairaut had the happiness of enjoying 
 universal esteem. The gentleness of his dispositions, 
 the urbanity of his manners, and his extreme tenderness 
 for the feelings of others, could not fail to fix the af- 
 fections of all who knew him ; while his ambition of 
 fame led him to pursuits which could be generally ap- 
 preciated, and which were therefore more likely to ex- 
 cite public applause. The character of D'Alembeit, on 
 the contrary, was distinguished by that stern honesty of 
 mind which cannot stoop to the arts by which fame is 
 generally acquired. Accustomed to speak what he 
 tliought,and even to indulge his wit and raillery beyond 
 the limits which prudence would have prescribed, he- 
 was more apt to make enemies than to acquire friends. 
 He disdained that species of applause which is propaga- 
 ted merely by the lips of the vulgar ; and therefore he 
 dismissed, without ceremony, the numerous visiters who 
 came to court and to flatter him. From these causes, 
 Clairaut enjoyed, during his life, a much higher repu- 
 tation than D'Alembert ; but as he did not equal him in 
 genius, posterity have corrected this unequal distribu- 
 tion of praise. 
 
 In 1756, D'Alembert received from the academy the 
 title of Supernumerary Pensionary ; a distinction which 
 was contrary to the usage of the academy, and therefore 
 a more flattering proof of the estimation in which he 
 was held by his colleagues. In 1759, he published his 
 ''Elements of Philosophy," a work of remarkable acute- 
 ness, and containing, as it were, the metaphysics ot the 
 sciences. 
 
 The tranquillity of D'.'Vlembert was now disturbed by 
 
 new persecutions. The freedom of thought which he 
 ventured to indulge in some of his papers in the Ency- 
 clopxdia, involved him in a contest which was long and 
 keenly maintained. In the article on Geneva, he hap- 
 pened to censure the bigotry and mtolerance which for- 
 merly reigned in that city, to throw a suspicion upon the 
 orthodoxy of the Genevese clergy, and to regret that 
 the proscription pronounced by Calvin against the thea- 
 tre and other public amusements, was still enforced 
 by the ministers of religion. The zeal of D'Alembert 
 for the liberty of his fellow creatures, could not brook 
 the idea that such an authority should be usurped 
 over the consciences of men, and might have justified 
 him in speaking with greater severity of any despotic 
 enactment, which prohibited the enjoyment of rational 
 pleasure. His language, however, is as temperate as 
 his arguments are clear. He shows the effects of a well 
 regulated stage upon the taste and manners of the citi- 
 zens, and suggests the mcansof preventing it from being 
 an instrument of immorality. The reasoning of D'Alem- 
 bert was keenly and eloquently controverted by Rous- 
 seau ; and the arguments of an author, who had himself 
 written a comedy and an opera, had a surprising eflect 
 upon the public opinion. D'Alembert replied to the 
 Letter of Rousseau ; but his answer did not meet with 
 the same approbation and success. Voltaire, who was 
 then residing at Geneva, brought to the assistance of 
 his friend the weapons of wit and ridicule, which he 
 never wielded without effect; but he felt little concern 
 in the issue of the contest, and D'Alembert alone was 
 exposed to the assaults of the enemy. 
 
 In the midst of this literary war, the king of Prussia, 
 after the peace of 1763, invited D'Alembeit to his capi- 
 tal, to fill the oflice of president of the academy of Ber- 
 lin, which was newly vacant by the death of Mauper- 
 tuis.* The Ercnch geometer refused this high and 
 honourable situation, and preferred a life of poverty in 
 his own country to the most splendid situation in another. 
 He cherished, however, the liveliest gratitude to Frede- 
 rick for his proffered kindness, and spent several 
 months at the Prussian court. A short time before, 
 D'Alembert had been solicited by the empress of Rus- 
 sia to superintend the education of her family ; but 
 neither the offer of titles or fortune could induce him 
 to comply. 
 
 In 1772, D'Alembert was appointed perpetual secre- 
 tary to the French academy ; and no sooner was this 
 honour conferred upon him, than he formed the design 
 of writing the lives of all the academicians from 1700 
 to 1772. In three years, he executed this grand design, 
 by composing no less than 70 eloges. 
 
 Besides the works which have been already mentioned<i 
 D'Alembert published a treatise, entitled, De la Dt- 
 structhn des Jesuitcs ; a collection of memoirs and 
 treatises under the title of 0/iuscuIe.<! Mat/ienialirjues ; 
 and an immense variety of papers in the Memoirs of 
 the academies of Paris, Berlin, and Turin. 
 
 Hitherto D'Alembert has appeared chiefly as a phi- 
 losopher, passionately devoted to literature and science ; 
 but an event now occurred which unfolded new features 
 of his character, and shows what a feeble resistance phi- 
 losophy can make to the most outrageous of our pas- 
 sions, even when age has circumscribed its extravagance, 
 and experience pointed out the littleness of what we 
 pursue. 
 
 In the literary circles which D'Alembert frequented 
 at Paris, he met with the marchioness du Defant, an old
 
 ALEMBEUT. 
 
 585 
 
 lady, whose capricious and splcnclic dis^wsition was 
 rendered tolcraljlc only by lier wit and genius. Cliarmcd 
 with each other's talents, D'Alenibcrt was a daily visi- 
 ter at the convent to which the narrow iorlune at" the 
 Marchioness had compelled her to retire ; and the 
 pleasure of these visits was considerably heightened by 
 the presence of Mademoiselle L'Espinasse, wiiom Ma- 
 dame du Defant had selected as the companion of her 
 solitude.* This young lady, always attractive by the 
 elegance of her accomplishments, was peculiarly en- 
 deared to D'Alembert by the siu>ilarity of their misfor- 
 tunes, and every interview gave additional ardour to the 
 flame which was already lighted in their breasts. In 
 consequence of a difference between the two ladies, 
 D'Alembert was arrogantly commanded by the mar- 
 chioness, either to renounce her friendship, or the socie- 
 ty of Mademoiselle L'Espinasse. The alternative was not 
 painful, nor the choice difficult to make : The attraction 
 of wit and high birth sunk before the enchantments of 
 youth and beauty. 
 
 About this time (1755) D'Alembert was seized with 
 a putrid fever which threatened his existence ; and, as 
 the house of his nurse was both badly aired, and des- 
 titute of accommodation, he was removed, by order of 
 his physician, to more healthy lodgings. Regardless of 
 the opinion of the world. Mademoiselle L'Espinasse de- 
 termined to be his nurse. She watched over the couch 
 of her friend with the most affectionate fidelity, and con- 
 tributed by her kind attentions to alleviate and remove 
 his distress. The heart of D'Alembert was filled with 
 gratitude for this generous participation in his suffer- 
 ings : His friendship swelled into a higher passion, till 
 his brain was almost turned with the delirium of love. 
 An affection equally tender, but inferior in violence, 
 was cherished by Mademoiselle L'Espmasse, who 
 permitted D'Alembert to take up his residence in her 
 house. This union of hearts, which malice itself never 
 represented as impure, did not contribute much to the 
 happiness of either party. The capricious disposition of 
 the lady sought for a variety of lovers; and no sooner 
 had she secured possession of D'Alembert's heart, than 
 she meditated more splendid conquests. InHuenced 
 either by the love of show, or the dread of penury, she 
 conceived the ambitious hope of being some day united 
 to one of the distinguished characters that frequented 
 her liteiary parties. She well knew the power of her 
 charms over the hearts of her visiters; and she never 
 failed to exercise it with the most consummate skill. A 
 complete knowledge of the human heart, and a passion- 
 ate eloquence of sentiment, heightened by an insinuating 
 frankness of address, gave an interesting brilliancy to 
 her conversation; and enabled her to fascinate her ad- 
 mirers with all the blandishments and sorcery of love. 
 The Marquis de Mora, a young Spanish nobleman, was 
 the first victim of this seductive enchantress. She saw 
 the devotion with which she inspired him ; a glimpse of 
 future splendour animated her hopes, and she called 
 forth all the resources of her art to fix the idolater at 
 her shrine. A rumour of the Marquis's attachment 
 having reached his friends in Spain, he was ordered in- 
 stantly to return. His absence from Paris, though it 
 raised the almost extinguished hopes of his rival, did 
 not weaken the affection of Mademoiselle L'Espinasse. 
 D'Alembert saw the fickleness of his mistress, and the 
 
 feeble impression whicli was made by talents and repu- 
 tation, when opposed to (he allurements of rank and for- 
 tune ; but he sLill cherished his attachment, and seems 
 to have been satisfied wiih the second place in her 
 heart. Anticipating, probalily, some change of circum- 
 stances which might unfix toe lady's ailtctions, he still 
 contniued his obsequious attenlions, and even conde- 
 scended to be the Ijearer of the Marquis's letters from 
 the post-oflice. No sooner had De Mora returned to 
 Spain than he fell suddenly ill : the affliciing intelli- 
 gence having been quickly conveyed to Paris, Made- 
 'moiselle L'Espinasse had tiie address to make D'Alem- 
 bert procure a certificate from an eminent physician, 
 that the air of France was necessary for the recovery of 
 the Spanish nobleman. His friends being influenced by 
 this advice, he left his native country, but died bolore he 
 arrived at Paris. This disastrous event preyed upon the 
 mmd of Mademoiselle L'Espinasse, and brought her 
 prematurely to tlie grave. D'Alembert was inconsolable 
 for the loss of his friend: In solitaiy anguish he brooded 
 over his distress, and, overwhelmed in that immoderate 
 grief which could spring only from the most extravagant 
 passion, he seems eiilier to have forgotten, or despised 
 the consolations which philosophy offers to the unfortu- 
 nate. " What now remains for me !" said he to Marmon- 
 tel: "when I return home, I find only her shadow: 
 home to me exhibits all the horrors of the tomb." A 
 long period elapsed before the mind of this great man 
 was restored to its former balance. He cherished a dis- 
 like to the society of men, and even to his former stu- 
 dies ; and until time, the universal anodyne of grief, 
 had corrected these erroneous impressions, he appears 
 to have regarded the highest of all cai-thly enjoyments, 
 the cultivation of the mind, as one of the vanities of 
 human life. 
 
 The remainder of D'Alembert's life was chiefly de- 
 voted to the society of his friends, in whose tender sym- 
 pathies he found a balm for the melancholy recollections 
 which often agitated his mind. He had now lost the 
 gaiety and vivacity of his happier days, and old age, 
 with disease in its train, was rapidly advancing. The 
 torments of the stone had already begun to prey upon 
 his licalth ; and he expired of this fatal disease, on the 
 29th October, 1783, in tlie 66th year of his age. 
 
 While D'Alembert resided under the roof of his 
 nurse, he showed the most amiable and aflectionate dis- 
 positions. Unambitious of preferment, he was solicitous 
 only about the cultivation of liis mind, and the happiness 
 of the little domestic circle M'hom his generosity sup- 
 ported. That simplicity of manners v.hich arose from 
 his peculiar situation, followed him in his intercourse 
 with the world. From an ignorance of tlic ceremonies 
 of fashionable life, he conducted himself with that blunt- 
 iiess of demeanour v>'hich is the offspring of a frank and 
 honest mind ; and was frequently embarrassed by the 
 compliments which were occasionally paid to the 
 splendour of his talents: but though his conversation 
 was sometimes unpolished, and his manners ungraceful, 
 he was never charged with uncivility and rudeness. 
 Without possessing the gallantry and address of a cour- 
 tier, his conversation was pleasing and cheerful, enli- 
 vened by frequent sallies of delicate wit, and by a gaietv 
 of manner which is seldom the companion of profound 
 talents. On some occasions, serious and gloomy, he 
 
 " Dutens asserts, th»t Mademoi«elIe L'Espinasse was the natural daughter of the marquis dU Defant. .Mem. d'un Voyageur, voL i;. 
 Vol. I. Part I. 3 C
 
 386 
 
 ALE 
 
 ALE 
 
 burrcnclerccl liis mind to those mclanclioly impressions 
 which are the ofVspring and the scourge of genius. At 
 other times, lie seems to liavc forgotten the command- 
 ing reputation which he enjoyed : He was all life and 
 jocularitvi indulging in that sportive gaiety, and playful- 
 ness of wit, which frequently borders on childishness. 
 The professed champion of liberty of tliought, he felt 
 no desire to force his opinions upon others ; and hence 
 lie disliked that controversial disposition which destroys 
 the harmony of social intercourse, alleging, that in all 
 subjects, except the mathematical sciences, there was 
 room for difi'ercncc of sentiment, and that almost in 
 every thing men may say what they choose. From the 
 impatient violence of his temper, he could not bear to 
 be thwarted and opposed : His impetuosity, however, 
 soon subsided : it was the irritation of the moment, and 
 never terminated in revenge. 
 
 When the reputation of D'Alcnibert brought around 
 him a crowd of idle flatterers and pretenders to science, 
 he often treated them with little ceremony ; and not 
 unfrequently amused himself at their expense, by a se- 
 verity of satire, and a keenness of remark, which were 
 the worst shades in his character. This bitterness of 
 invective, however, did not proceed from a disregard 
 to the feelings of others. It sprung rather from thought- 
 lessness than from malignity, and was chiefly directed 
 against presumption and empiricism. He had too good 
 a heart to be deliberately the cause of misery even to his 
 enemies ; but his unfortunate propensity for raillery, 
 often led him to indulge his ill humour, before he could 
 calculate the pain which it gave to others, or the injury 
 which it did to himself. 
 
 Before closing this sketch of D'Alcmbert's life, we 
 must make a few remarks on his religious and moral 
 character. In this country he has been long regarded 
 as the apostle of anarchy and irreligion ; and even his 
 connexion with Mademoiselle L'Espinassc, has, contrary 
 to the most positive evidence, been represented as im- 
 moral and licentious. As if the malignity of his ene- 
 mies had not sufficiently harassed him during life, he 
 has for more than twenty years been persecuted in the 
 tomb. That sanctuary of the dead, before which the 
 slanderer generally stands mute and pale, has been wan- 
 tonly invaded by an order of men who could not appre- 
 ciate the omnipotence of his talents, and with a degree 
 of rancorous hostility, which should have been excited 
 only by living baseness. The associates of his glory, and 
 liis successors in the brilliant career of discovery, have 
 been assailed by the same malignant spirit ; and a road 
 to the temple of fame has been opened, for English phi- 
 losophers, over the bleeding characters of those mighty 
 sages, whom the universal suffrage of posterity will one 
 day place at its altar. — It is easy to account for those 
 erroneous impressions of character which are drawn 
 from the conduct of those who took an active part in 
 the French Revolution. Time alone can cool the pas- 
 sions of men who were performers in that great drama 
 of blood and terror, and correct the opinions which were 
 formed in the moment of agitation or revenge : but 
 D'Alembert was in his grave long before this convulsion 
 took place ; and we can account for the calumnies with 
 which his memory has been loaded, only from the ab- 
 
 surd hypothesis, that the seeds of the French Revolutiou 
 were sown by the writers of the Encijcl'jjiii:diu, and those 
 distinguished men who then adorned the literature of 
 France. The ati-ocious calumnies of Uarruel, which for 
 a while deceived the credulity of this country, still 
 maintain their impression upon weak minds ; though 
 we believe, that every man possessed of common rea.- 
 son, has indignantly spurned from his understandiiig 
 these impious delusions. Calumny, like every other 
 instrument of intrigue, has but a temporary existence. 
 The detractor may perform with success, and even with 
 applause, the little part which he has to act in the poli- 
 tical turmoils of the day; but time and impi^rtial justice 
 will unveil the characters over whicli his black mantle 
 has been cast, and commit to the mercy of posterity 
 those who have wantonly scattered from their urn the 
 ashes of deparicd genius. 
 
 It is not the provinc of a biographer to ascertain the 
 articles which composed the creed of D'Alembert. The 
 celebrated La Harpe, who will not be suspected of un- 
 due partiality, admits, that he never could find in his 
 writings a sentiment hostile to religion. D'Alcmbeit 
 frequently speaks with feeling of the beauties of Scrip- 
 ture, and has done ample justice to the illustrious 
 preachers who adorned the reign of Lewis XIV. But 
 if he were an infidel; if, to use the words of a Christian 
 bishop, " he did not think so well as he wrote ; no per- 
 son has a right to interrogate his conscience."* We 
 may lament his unbelief as a misfortune ; but we have 
 no title to reprobate it as a crime. It is the avowed infi- 
 del, who insults the public feeling by his vices, or shakes 
 the public faith by his outrageous zeal, that is the object 
 of general abhorrence. The sound theist, who worships 
 the same God, and cherishes the same hopes as the 
 Christian, is a character which no man ought rashly to 
 condemn. From licentious manners and immoral con- 
 duct, it is not charitable to infer either hypocrisy or 
 unbelief. But a life distinguished like that of D'Alem- 
 bert, by unimpeachable morality and the most amiable 
 virtues, bids defiance to the groundless insinuations of 
 malevolence, and makes a powerful appeal from con- 
 temporary bigotiy, to the charitable judgment of more 
 enlightened times. (/3) 
 
 ALEMBIC, a chemical vessel, borrowed from the 
 Arabians, and formerly used for distillation, but now 
 superseded by the retort and the still. An account of a 
 new alembic, invented by M. Macers, may be seen in 
 the Encycloji. Method. Physique. Art. Alambic. (to) 
 
 ALEMTEJO, or Alentejo, from akin, beyond, and 
 Teja, the Tugus, is one of the least populous, though 
 most extensive provinces of Portugal. It is bounded on 
 the north by the Tagus, on the north-west by the pro- 
 vince of Estremadura, on the west by the Atlantic 
 Ocean, on the south by the mountains of Algarva, and 
 on the east by the Guadiana and the Spanish frontiers. 
 Its length froin north to south, which is equal to its 
 breadth, is nearly 108 miles. It is divided into 358 pa- 
 rishes, and contains four cities, and about 339,355 inha- 
 bitants. The Portuguese government is supplied with 
 one-fourth of its military establishment from this pro- 
 vince, which maintains no fewer than ten regiments of 
 infantiy, and four of cavalry. About the distance of a 
 
 • " I (lid not know liis person" said Cocstlosquet, bisliop of Limoges, " but I have always heard that his manners were simple, and 
 liis conduct without reproach. With reg'ard to his works, I read them frequently, .and I find in lliem much talent, a great portion of 
 illumination, and sound morality. If he did not think so well as he wrote, it was his misfortune: No person has a right to interrogate 
 his conscience."
 
 ALE 
 
 ALE 
 
 387 
 
 league from Aldea Gallega, a market town opposite to 
 Lisbon, there stands a church upon an eminence, dedi- 
 cated to Mosna Senhora da jitalai/a, " Our Lady of the 
 Watch Tower." The Negroes from Lisbon perform an 
 annual pilgrimage to this church, and great crowds of 
 people follow thcni, in order to witness tlie sable proces- 
 sion. Though the soil of this province is in many places 
 remarkable for its fertility, yet it is generally ill culti- 
 vated, being sown only once in three years. Its principal 
 productions are wheat and barley, and in some districts, 
 grapes, olives, and other fruits abound. Extensive im- 
 proveable heaths, occupying a space about 30 leagues 
 in circumference, are per.nitted to lie in an uncultivated 
 state, and serve only to delight the eye, by the beautiful 
 variety of heath plants which they produce ; and aflbrd 
 a sustenance to numerous herds of sheep and goats be- 
 longing to the nobility, who find it their interest to keep 
 these extensive commons in an uncultivated state. The 
 thin population, and unproductive condition of Alemte- 
 jo, arise from the badness of the roads, the luxurious 
 indolence of the peasantry, the frequent recurrence of 
 religious festivals, and the numerous wars between Spain 
 and Portugal, of which this province was generally the 
 theatre. — A complete account of Alcmtejo, by Antonio 
 Henriqiies da Silveira, will be found in the Ulcmorias 
 Economicas of the Lisbon Academy, vol. i. See also 
 Link's Travels in Portugal, p. 150. (w) 
 
 ALENCON, a city of France, capital of the depart- 
 ment of Orne, [part of ancient Normandy] built in a 
 fertile plain, on the banks of the river Sartc. According 
 to Chantreaux, it contains 12,407 inhabitants. The ma- 
 nufactures of Alengon are chiefly lace, linen, woollen 
 ptuffs, and leather. In the mine of Hertre, at the dis- 
 tance of two leagues from Alen9on, false diamonds, 
 called the diamonds of Alengon, were found among the 
 atones for building. This mine, which is now nearly ex- 
 hausted, produced such brilliant stones of this kind, that 
 they were mistaken by connoisseurs for real diamonds. 
 It is situated 105 miles south-west of Paris, 75 south- 
 west of Rouen, and 24 north of Mons ; in N. Lat. 48° 
 25'. Long. 0". (i|.) {w) 
 
 ALEPPO, in Arabic, Haleb, the present metropolis 
 of Syria, and, in point of importance, the third city in the 
 Ottoman empire. In situation, magnitude, population, 
 and opulence, it is much inferior to Constantinople and 
 Cairo; but, in salubrity of air, in the solidity and ele- 
 gance of its private buildings, as well as in the conve- 
 nience and neatness of its streets, it may be reckoned 
 superior to both. And though no longer possessed of 
 the same commercial advantages as in former times, it 
 still continues to maintain a share of trade far from in- 
 considerable. 
 
 Aleppo is situated in N. Lat. 36° 1 1' 25". E. Long., 
 from Greenwich, 37° 10' 15". Its distance from Scan- 
 deroon, the nearest sea-port, is about 60 or 70 miles, in 
 a straight line ; but the usual road for caravans, through 
 Antioch, is computed to be between 90 and 100 miles. 
 Aleppo is supposed, by some, to be the Zobah of Scrip- 
 ture, mentioned 2 Sam. viii. 12. And such as wish to 
 see this point discussed may consult Bochart's Geogra/ili. 
 Sacr. col. 79. But, however this may be, there can be 
 little doubt, that Aleppo is the Berroea of the Greeks; 
 for we learn from Procopius, (Bell. Persic. 1. ii. c. 7.) 
 that Berrosa was situated between Antioch and Hiera- 
 polis, about two days' journey from each, which answers 
 exattly to the description of Aleppo. And we hai!fe a 
 still more explicit testimony, to the same effect, in Jtire 
 
 Graco-Roman. p. 292, Evr<««(«« £5r(5-/,oiT<i5 tjjs fiifaXin Bi^ 
 
 Aleppo is encompassed, at the distance of a few miles, 
 by a circle of hills, which, though not high, are, in most 
 places, higher than the rising grounds nearer the town. 
 They present but a barren appearance, being, for the 
 most part, rocky, scantily provided with springs, and 
 totally destitute of trees. The river Kowick', which 
 rises near Aintab, glides with a slow and silent current 
 westward of the city ; but, by the time that it reaches 
 Aleppo, it is reduced to a small stream, having been let 
 off, in many places, into the adjacent fields, as well as 
 drained of large quantities of water for the use of the 
 Aleppo gardens commencing at Heylan. Yet this stream, 
 insignificant as it is in appearance, sometimes swells in 
 the winter season to a formidable river; and, when the 
 Christian army was besieging Aleppo, in the year 1 123, 
 the_ Kowick, suddenly overflowing its banks, swept away 
 their tents, baggage, and a great number of men, which 
 obliged them to raise the siege. 
 
 The city of Aleppo, including its extensive suburbs, 
 occupies eight small hills of unequal height, the inter- 
 mediate valleys, and a considerable extent of flat ground ; 
 the whole comprehending a circuit of about seven miles. 
 The city itself is not above three miles and a half in cir- 
 cumference, and is surrounded by an ancient wall, which, 
 like those of other fortified towns in that country, is 
 mouldering fast into ruui through neglect. Besides the 
 wall, the city was formerly fortified with a broad deep 
 ditch, which at present is, in most places, filled up with 
 rubbish, or converted into garden ground. The city of 
 Aleppo makes a fine appearance at a distance ; the 
 mosques, the minarets and numerous cupolas, form a 
 splendid spectacle ; and the flat roofs of the houses, 
 which are situated on the hills, rising one behind ano- 
 ther, present a succession of hanging terraces, inter- 
 spersed with cypress and poplar trees ; and the castle, 
 placed on a hill, which towers above all the rest, pre- 
 sents a magnificent object to the eye of the approach- 
 ing traveller. But, as is the case with most other Turk- 
 ish cities, the ideas of splendour suggested by a distant 
 prospect of Aleppo, subside on entering the gates. The 
 streets, on account of the high stone walls on each hand, 
 appear gloomy, and more narrow than they really are ; 
 and some of the best houses exhibit the appearance of 
 mmneries, from the few high windows guarded with 
 lattices, which only are visible. At the same time, it 
 must be confessed, that some of the streets are spacious 
 and handsome, and well paved with flag stones; and, in 
 some of them, you look at once through several arches, 
 which form an agreeable vista. 
 
 The iTiosques are numerous in Aleppo ; seven or eight 
 of them are reckoned magnificent, though none of them 
 have more than a single minaret, or steeple, whence 
 the people are summoned to prayers. In front of the 
 mosques is a spacious paved court, with a covered foun- 
 tain in the middle, which has cocks on all sides to sup- 
 ply water for the appointed ablutions before prayers. 
 The roofs of all the houses, except where there are 
 domes, are flat, and plastered with a composition of tar, 
 mortar, ashes, and sand, which in time becomes veiy 
 hard ; but, when not laid on at the proper season, the 
 terrace is apt to crack in the winter. These flat roofs 
 arc separated by parapet walls, and most of the natives 
 sleep on them in the summer. The Franks, who live 
 contiguous, have doors of communication in these walls ; 
 and, by means of their own, and the bazar terraces, can 
 3 C 2
 
 J88 
 
 ALEPPO. 
 
 make a large circuit without descending into the street ; 
 a circumstance which illustrates a passage in Scripture, 
 where our Lord conimands those who are on the house- 
 top to flyovithout coming down to take any thing out oC 
 the liouse. The Turks of Aleppo arc not fond of this 
 kind of communication i and lluy raise their walla to 
 such a height, as may screen them from the view of 
 their neighbours. 
 
 The fuel universally used at Aleppo is wood and 
 charcoaL And the former, though brought on camels 
 from the mountains, two or three days' journey distant, 
 is sold at a reasonable rate. Indeed, there is little fuel 
 used by the natives, except in their kilcliens, their prin- 
 cipal apartments not being even provided with chinuieys. 
 The bagnios are heated chiefly by the dung of animaU, 
 the parings of fruit, and other offals collected in the 
 streets, which both in drying and burning create an in- 
 tolerable nuisance. 
 
 The city is supplied with good water from two springs, 
 which rise near Heylan, a village about eight miles dis- 
 tant to the northward. It is conveyed thence by an 
 aqueduct, partly on a level with the ground, in some 
 places covered, but mostly opeYi, and partly subterra- 
 neous, refreshed by air-shafts. From this aqueduct, the 
 water is distributed by means of earthen or leaden pipes 
 to the different fountains, baths. Sec; and many of the 
 khans, as well as the private houses, have large subter- 
 raneous reservoirs for water These arc filled either 
 by pipes directly from tlic aqueduct, or by the sackles, 
 or watermen ; and, as soon as they are filled, they are 
 closely shut up till the hot months, when, by means of a 
 leaden cup and rope, the water is drawn up perfectly 
 clear, as we are assured, and most deliciously cool. It 
 is not easy however to conceive, how it should be cirfier 
 wholesome or agreeable, after remaining stagnant for 
 two or three months. 
 
 There arc numerous gardens about Aleppo, both along 
 the banks of the aqueduct and of the river Kowick ; and 
 though they are neither cultivated with taste, nor laid 
 out with uniformity, they afford nevertheless a voluptu- 
 ous retreat to the languid traveller. The natives always 
 talk of them with rapture ; and they are certainly of 
 immense advantage to the city, as tliey supply it with 
 abundance of delicious fruits and wholesome vegetables, 
 and serve, at the same time to aUure the inhabitants 
 fiom that sedentary life, to which, in common with all 
 tiie Turks, they are so much disposed, to purer air, and 
 gentle exercise. 
 
 The climate of Aleppo is peculiarly mild, consider- 
 ing the latitude in which it lies. The westerly winds, 
 which prevail during the summer months, moderate the 
 excessive heat, and produce an agreeable temperature ; 
 and we may judge of the salubrity of the air from this 
 circumstance, that from the end of May to the middle of 
 September, the inhabitants are accustomed to sleep ex- 
 posed on their terraces, under the canopy of heaven, 
 without danger from damps, or otlicr noxious qualities 
 of the atmosphere. 
 
 With regard to the population of Aleppo, authors dif- 
 fer widely in their calculations. M- d'Arvicux, who was 
 French consul at Aleppo, makes the population, in 1683, 
 to amount to 285,000; M. Tavernier computes it at 
 258,000; whilst others are for reducing it as low as 
 100,000. We cannot help thinking, however, that this 
 calculation must be below the truth; for Dr Russel, 
 who had the best opportunity of ascertaining the truth, 
 (having resided many years at Aleppo, as physician to 
 
 the Br'tibh factory,) computes the population at 2^5,000 ; 
 ol which he reckons 200,000 to be Turks, 30,000 Chris- 
 tians, and 5000 Jews. 
 
 We deem it altogether unnecessary to enter into a 
 minute description of the nuuiners of the inhabitants of 
 Aleppo, as they are for the most part such as are com- 
 mon to the Turks in general. It is however observed, 
 that the Turks of Aleppo possess less of thiit' superci- 
 lious manner so general amongst their brethrifn in other 
 parts of the empire; and that foreigners, particularly 
 the English, are treated with more distinction than in 
 most other places in the Turkish dominions. The 
 Aleppines, however, are extitmely effeminate, and to- 
 tally averse to bodily exertiois. And though certainly, 
 in religion, bodily exercise profiteth little, hi resjx:ct of 
 rational devotion ; yet in the Mahometan creed, it be- 
 comes useful m preventing the torpor of the bodily or- 
 gans, and the absolute stagnation of the mental faculties. 
 The Turks of Aleppo spend most of their time in the 
 prayers and ablutions prescribed by the Koran, in smok- 
 ing tobacco, and in the immoderate use of the bagnio, 
 which, from the way in which it is conducted, one v.ould 
 imagine to be a most enervating process. Th»;y go into 
 the bagnio, heated to about 100° of Fahrenheit's ther- 
 mometer, where after having used the depilatory, the> 
 sit down on the heated floor, and submit to be rubbed 
 and washed all over by an operator, who attends for that 
 purpose. The attendant, as an essential part of the pro- 
 cess, makes every joint of the bather's fingers ci-ack 
 successively; after which, laying him flat on his back, 
 and bringing the arms across the breast, the shoulder 
 joints are made to crack in like manner ; and, last of all, 
 (which to strangers is the most alarming part of the 
 operation,) the neck is made to crack also, by raising 
 the head, and bringing the chin forward upon the breast. 
 The whole of this process seems to be an elaborate effort 
 to combine two things, in their nature essentially oppo- 
 site, idleness and exercise. 
 
 The connnerce of Aleppo, as has already been inti- 
 mated, has much declined fi om v/hat it was in former 
 times. It is still the emporium of Annenia and Diar- 
 bcker. It sends caravans to Bassora on the Euphrates, 
 to Damascus, and Scanderoon. Its exports are chiefly 
 raw or spun cottons, silk stuff's, copper, goats' hair from 
 Natolia, the gall-nuts of Curdestan, Indian shawls and 
 muslins, and pistachio-nuts, for which Aleppo has been 
 famous since the days of Galen. The British iiictory 
 was established at Aleppo in the time of Elizabeth ; but 
 the French have got the advantage of them, it is said, 
 both by the superiority and cheapness of their manufac- 
 tures. The French have a consul and seven counting 
 houses at Aleppo, the English and Venetians two, the 
 merchants of Leghorn and Holland one. 
 
 The Aleppines are more tolerant, with regard to reli- 
 gion, than the other Turks. The Armenians, Greeks, 
 Syrians, and Maronites, have churches in Aleppo; the 
 two former have a bishop. The Jews have a synagogue, 
 in which is preserved a manuscript of the Old Testa- 
 ment, to which they ascribe high antiquity. A speci- 
 men of it was sent to Dr Kennicott, who did not see 
 reason to admit its pretensions. 
 
 The plague is supposed to appear at Aleppo about 
 once in ten years, and sometimes makes terrible havoc. 
 There is also a disease peculiar to Aleppo, and therefore 
 called the Mai d'Aleppo. It consists in a very trouble- 
 son^ eruption, which frequently leaves an unseemly 
 scar : and, from this di,sease, scarcely any, cither natives
 
 ALE 
 
 ALE 
 
 !8y 
 
 sr foreigners, arc excmpiccl. Pocock supposes it to 
 arise liom tut (juuiity ol liie wiUcr. For fiUUicr parti- 
 culars, tcspuLiuig Akjjpo, \vc might rtltr to 'I'avc;- 
 nier, Pocock, Volue-y, (jnlliths, and many others; but 
 we beg leave lo leler those who wish lor a most minute 
 ana particular ilcscripaon of Aleppo, of its inhabitants, 
 productions, merchandise, kc. to Ur Russel's Natural 
 Jiisturij of Alc/ifio, in 2 vOiS. 4to, on whose authority we 
 have chiefly depended. See also Gibbon's hist. vol. ix. 
 p. oio, chap. 51 ; vol. x. p. 82. chap. 52; vol. xii. p. 18. 
 chap. 65. (§■) 
 
 ALETRIS, a genus of plants belonging to the class 
 Hexandria, and order Monogynia. See Botany, (tu) 
 
 ALLU RITES, a genus ol planis belonging to ihc 
 class Moiioecia, and order Moiiadclphia. Sec lioiANV. 
 
 ALEUTIAN, or Aleutsky Islands, a group of isl- 
 ands, situated in the Northern Pacific Ocean. This 
 name is, by some geographers, applied to that whole 
 chain of islands, which runs in a westerly direction, from 
 the promontory of Alaska, in America, towards the pe- 
 ninsula of Kamtschatka, in Asia ; but by others it is 
 limited to the western extremity of the chain, the cen- 
 tral group being denominated Andreanofskoi, and the 
 eastern, adjacent to America, the Fox islands. These 
 islands are subject to the Russian empire, and furnish a 
 considerable portion ot the furs, in which the Russians 
 carry on a highly advantageous commerce witii China. 
 The inhabitants are in the savage state, of a gloomy dis- 
 position, and frequently impelled by slight misfortunes 
 to commit suicide. (+) 
 
 ALEXANDER rHE Cheat, the most renowned hero 
 in ancient history, was son of Philip king of Maccdon. 
 His father was one of the ablest generals and most pro- 
 found politicians of the age in which he lived ; and by his 
 unwearied and successful exertions in destroying the 
 liberties of Greece, he laid the foundation of the Ma- 
 cedonian power, and of his son's future greatness. The 
 Greeks having successfully repelled all the attempts of 
 Persian invasion, had long been meditating a descent on 
 the rich provinces of Asia, and had been prevented from 
 carrying their design into execution, only by the dis- 
 sensions and mutual distrust which prevailed among the 
 different states. When this contentious spirit was re- 
 pressed by the total sulijection of all the states of Greece 
 to the, Macedonian power, Philip did not lose sight of 
 the great object which had so long engaged the atten- 
 tion of the Greeks ; and was unanimously elected gen- 
 eralissimo of the coml)ined forces of Greece, to carry in- 
 to effect the project ol invading Persia. He had made 
 the necessary preparations for this extensive undertak- 
 ing, when he was murdered by Pausanias, a younu; man 
 of honourable connxions, who had been grossly hijurcd 
 by one of Philip's principal officers, and whose wrongs 
 the king had been too slow to redress. In this way, the 
 sceptre of Macedon came into the hands of Alexander 
 when he was only twenty years of age ; and he is not al- 
 together free from suspicions of having been accessory 
 10 his father's deatli. It is certain, that a misunderstand- 
 ing had for a considerable time prevailed between Alex- 
 ander and his father, on accoimt of Philip's having di- 
 vorced Olympias, Alexander's mother, and taken another 
 ■wife, whose offspring Alexander had reason to fear 
 might be preferred to him in the succession to the 
 throne. Though Alexander had given early promise of 
 splendid talents, and of great military capacity, yet the 
 states of Greece, which had reluctantly submitted to 
 
 Philip, encouraged by Alexander's youth, and prompted 
 by Demosthenes, tlie hiveterate enemy of Pliilip's house, 
 began to hope that a lavourable opportunity would now 
 be a.iorded iheni lor throwing oft' the Macedonian yoke. 
 Accordingly, whilst Alexander was engaged in reducing 
 to suljjcclion some of the barbarous nations lo the north 
 of Macedon, a report of his death, industriously propa- 
 gated by the enemies of the Macedonian power, tlirev/ 
 all Greece into commotion ; and the Tliebans rose in 
 open rebellion. Alexander, on receiving intelligence of 
 this revolt, acted with his usual decision ; and it is doubt- 
 ful whether his merit as a general and politician be more 
 conspicuous on any occasion, tiian in reducing so (|uickly 
 to subjection the turbulent states of Greece, lie im- 
 mediately deserted his conquests in the north, and 
 marched into Greece with a rapidity which astonished 
 and overawed the disatt'e-cted. The Thebans, however, 
 had gone too far to retreat, and therefore they prepared 
 to oppose him with all their forces. After a short but 
 desjjerate resistance, Thebes was taken by storm ; all its 
 buildings, except the house of Pindar, which the con- 
 queror ordered to be spared, were levelled to the ground, 
 and thirty thousand of the inhabitants sold for slaves. 
 This severity, which was exercised as a measure of 
 policy, to deter the Grecian states from making any far- 
 ther attempt to recover their independence, had the de- 
 sired etfect ; but it is said to have cost Alexander many 
 bitter reflections afterwards. As soon as Greece was 
 settled in tranquillity, a general assembly of the states was 
 held at Corinth, in which Alexander was solemnly re- 
 cognised as generalissimo against the Persians ; and al! 
 Greece, with the exception of the Lactdxmonians, 
 agreed to concur in the enterprise. 
 
 Every thing being thus settled to Alexander's satis- 
 faction, he immediately set about carrying into execu- 
 tion the design of invading Persia. And co apparently 
 inadequate were the means for accomplishing this great 
 object, that, had not the Persian empire been doomed 
 to destruction, they never could have been successful ; 
 for the whole force engaged in this great enterprise 
 amounted only, according to Arrian, to 30,000 foot and 
 5U0 . horse : and, what is still more extraordinary, Alex- 
 ander is said to have h.\d only 70 talents to defray the 
 expense of the expedition. But these things did not 
 deter the hero : (Jn the contrary, from the romantic 
 turn of his character, he gloried in attempting things 
 which toothers might appear impossible ; and that en- 
 terprise was always the most eagerly prosecuted, which 
 was attended with the greatest difficulties. This impe- 
 tuous and romantic spirit was the chief cause of that ra- 
 pid and splendid success with which his arms were 
 crowned. For though, generally speaking, prudence and 
 wise precaution bid fairest to ensure success, yet it has 
 often been found, that those daring attempts which baf- 
 fle the calculations of prudence and political sagacity, 
 have succeeded, where more sober r.nd rational mea- 
 sures would have utterly failed. And this may be easily 
 accounted for on the known principles of human nature ; 
 for the mind has a natural tendency to rise in proportion 
 to the magnitude of the object at which it aims ; whilst 
 those who are attacked in an unusual manner, being 
 unprepared to meet such unexpected exigencies, are 
 thrown into confusion, and not unfrequently subjugated, 
 before they recover from their consternation. 
 
 Alexander having crossed the Hellespont with his 
 army of heroes, marched to Ilium, where he off'cred 
 sacrifices to the manes of the Grecian captains who fell
 
 390 
 
 ALEXANDER. 
 
 in the Trojan war, and particularly to Achilles, whom 
 he declared to be the most fortiuiate of men, in having 
 Patroclus lor a friend, and Homer for a panegyrist. In 
 the mean time, Darius's generals prepared to oppose 
 his progress with an army of 100,000 foot and 20,000 
 horse. For this purpose they took an advantageous 
 position on the banks of the river Granicus, which 
 Alexander had to pass before he could reach them. 
 The most experienced of his officers were apprehensive 
 of the depth of the stream ; and Parmenio, in particular, 
 remonstrated against attempting a passage late in the 
 day, which appeared to be the king's design; to which 
 Alexander replied, "the Hellespont would blush, if, 
 after having crossed it, I should be afraid of the Grani- 
 cus." At the same time he threw himself into the river 
 with 1 3 troops of horse ; and advanced in the face of the 
 enemy, who were waiting for him on the opposite bank. 
 Here an obstinate engagement took place ; and Alexan- 
 der was in imminent danger before his infantry could 
 get up to support him. He was attacked by two Per- 
 sian officers of distinction, at the same time, one of whom 
 had nearly cleft his head with a battle-ax, and was go- 
 ing to repeat the blow, when Clitus prevented him by 
 running him through the body Avilh a spear. As soon 
 as the infantry passed the river, the enemy instantly 
 turned their backs, and were pursued with great slaugh- 
 ter. According to Plutarch, the Persians lost in this 
 engagement 20,000 foot, and upwards of 2000 horse ; 
 whilst Alexander lost in all only 34 men. This is 
 almost incredible : although it is said, that Q. Metellus, 
 a long time afterwards, removed from Dio, in Macedo- 
 nia, to Rome, the statues of brass which Alexander 
 ordered to be erected to the heroes who fell at the 
 Granicus. 
 
 The consequences of this victory were of the utmost 
 importance to Alexander. It put him in possession of 
 Sardis, the capital of Lydia, and all the riches which it 
 contained ; which proved a very seasonable supply to 
 his slender resources. After having besieged and ta- 
 ken Miletus, Halicarnassus, and some other places of 
 importance, which put him in possession of the greater 
 part of Lesser Asia, he granted permission to all the 
 new-married soldiers to return and spend the winter 
 with their wives in Macedonia: a concession so very 
 tmusual, that it has generally been thought that he 
 adopted it from the Jews, who enjoyed this indulgence 
 by a particular injunction in their law. (Dcul. xxiv. 5.) 
 
 The next campaign was opened early in the spring ; 
 and Alexander having quickly overrun Paphlagonia 
 and Cappadocia, advanced by rapid marches into Cili- 
 cia. Being arrived at Tarsus, and excessively fatigued 
 by the march, he threw himself into the river Cydnus, 
 which runs through the town, and was immediately 
 seized with a dangerous distemper. This threw the 
 army into the utmost confusion, for the Persians were ad- 
 vancing fast upon them with an army, it is said, of 600,000 
 men. He was cured by the skill of Philip his physi- 
 cian ; whom Alexander made no hesitation in trusting, 
 though he had been assured that he was bribed to poi- 
 son him. But he declared, that in his circumstances a 
 speedy death was better than a slow recovery. His 
 confidence in his physician was not misplaced, for Li 
 three days he was able to present himself to his army. 
 He immediately advanced to meet Darius, who was so 
 infatuated as to leave the open country where his im- 
 mense army could have acted with effect, and to advance 
 into t)ic narrpw defiles of Cilicia. The reason whicli 
 
 induecd him to adopt this conduct was, as he himself 
 
 declares, lest the Cireeks, if admitted into the champaign 
 country, should have an opportunity of running away. 
 The two armies passed each other in the night; and 
 Alexander was so much surprised when he was told 
 that Darius was behind him, that he would scarcely be- 
 lieve it. As soon, however, as he was convinced of its 
 truth, he immediately began to repass the mountains. 
 Darius had also turned back, on finding that he had 
 missed his enemy : and both armies met at Issus. ticre 
 a terrible engagement took place. Darius, from the 
 nature of the place, derived no advantage from the su- 
 periority of numbers; on the contrary, they served only 
 to trample one another to death, after the foremost 
 ranks had been repulsed by the firmness of the Macedo- 
 nian phalanx. The carnage therefore was dreadful; 
 for, according to Plutarch, 1 10,000, and according to 
 Diodorus Siculus, 130,000 of the Persians fell in this 
 engagement. The tent of Darius, his mother, wife, 
 and two daughters, fell into the hands of Alexander, 
 who treated the royal captives with the utmost respect, 
 and did evei-y thing in his power to alleviate their suf- 
 ferings. Alexander made the best use of his victory ; 
 and proceeded to make himself master of all the sea- 
 coast, that he might defeat the operations of the Per- 
 sians, who were still powerful by sea. The Tyrians, 
 amongst others, had sent deputies, after the battle of 
 Issus, to make their submission to the conqueror. But 
 they refused to admit him into their city, though he pro- 
 fessed to enter it only for the purpose of sacrificing to 
 the Tyrian Hercules. Alexander was so much exas- 
 perated by this refusal, that he resolved on the reduc- 
 tion of the place before he proceeded farther. This he 
 accomplished aftera siege of sevenmonths, and after he 
 had, with immense labour, joined the island on which 
 Tyre stood, with the main land, by means of a causeway. 
 On this occasion he exercised apiece of wanton cruelty, 
 altogether unworthy of a great conqueror. For, besides 
 all those who were put to the sword, or sold for slaves, 
 he ordered 2000 to be crucified, pretending that the 
 Tyrians were descended from a race of slaves, who had 
 formerly put their masters to death, and taken posses- 
 sion of the place. 
 
 From Tyre Alexander proceeded to Jerusalem, to 
 chastise the Jews for having refused to supply him with 
 provisions during the siege. Here, as we are told, an 
 extraordinary scene was exhibited. Jaddua, the high- 
 priest, being warned in a vision, ordered all the priests 
 to put on their respective .ceremonial dresses ; and, 
 having arrayed himself in his pontifical robes, they all 
 marched out m procession to meet Alexander, and de- 
 precate his vengeance. When, to the astonishment of 
 all, the haughty conqueror bowed himself to the ground, 
 before the high-priest, and saluted him with religious 
 veneration ; assigning, as the reason, that this very per- 
 son had appeared to him, in a dream, in Macedonia, and 
 encouraged him to proceed in his expedition against 
 the Persians. — We may be permitted to doubt this ac- 
 count, without incurring the charge of scepticism. It 
 rests solely on the authority of Josephtis, who, though' 
 in general deserving of credit, appears in this instance 
 to have been misled by rabbinical traditions, invented to 
 exalt the importance of the Jews. All the ancient his- 
 torians are not only silent respecting this memorable 
 occurrence, but in a manner expressly contradict it. 
 They all declare, that Alexander went straight from 
 Tyre to Gaza ; and make no mention of his ever having
 
 ALEXAN13EK. 
 
 391 
 
 Dccn at Jerusalem. Besides, ihcrc are some cireuni- 
 staiiccs in the story which cannot possibly be true. 
 Alexander is represented as accompanied hi his Tnarch 
 towards Jerusalem, by the Phoenicians and Cliahlcans : 
 With regard to the latter people, this could not be true ; 
 for at that lime he had neither conquered nor seen 
 Chaldea. Another improbable circumstance is related 
 by Joscphus. Parmenio is represented as asking Alex- 
 ander, how he, whom all the world adored, came to 
 adore the Jewish high-priest ? Now, it is well known 
 that Alexander liad not at Uiat time made any preten- 
 sions to divine honours ; nor did he order himself to be 
 adored till after the complete conquest of Persia. And 
 farther, according to the most approved chronology, 
 Jaddua the high-priest was dead some years before Da- 
 rius Codomanus came to the throne. 
 
 After having invested and taken Gaza, which made 
 an obstinate resistance, Alexander marched towards 
 Egypt : which was at that time subject to the Persians. 
 So great was the dissimilarity between the Egyptians 
 and Persians, in point of manners and religion, that the 
 former never were cordial in their allegiance. The 
 Persians, who worshipped the fire or the heavenly bo- 
 dies, took every opportunity of ridiculing the gross ido- 
 latry of the Egyptians ; and of insulting them, on a point 
 in which men can least bear indignity, the religious in- 
 stitutions of their ancestors. The Egyptians, therefore, 
 were glad of an opportunity of throwing off the Persian 
 yoke ; and Alexander took possession of their country 
 without resistance. It was at this time that he founded 
 the city of Alexandria,* which long remained a monu- 
 ment of his political sagacity, after the empire which 
 he had won by his arms had fallen to pieces. Here he 
 formed the clesign of visiting the temple of Jupiter 
 Amnion, nobody knows well lor what. This temple was 
 situated in a fertile oasis, in the midst of the Libyan 
 desert, and was almost inaccessible. Cambyses had lost 
 the greater part of his army in an attempt to penetrate 
 lo it. This, however, did not deter Alexander, who 
 accomplished the journey, after surmoimting incredible 
 difficulties ; and, as the reward of his labours, was 
 gratified with the title of the Son of Jujuter. It is men- 
 tioned, however, by Plutarch, in his Life of Alexander, 
 that some were of opinion that the king received this 
 honourable title, ratlier from a blunder of the priest, 
 than from the response of the oracle. For when he 
 wished to address Alexander in Greek, with the title of 
 TXi^iav, my son, from his ignorance of the language he 
 pronounced the word, Ti-ai Aid?, which signifies Sott of 
 Jufiitcr. However this might be, Alexander was ex- 
 ceedingly well pleased with his designation ; and in a 
 letter to his mother on that occasion, hinted that he had 
 made some important discoveries. Olympias, however, 
 had too much sense to listen to such absurdities ; and 
 ironically entreated of her son not to embroil her with 
 Juno. 
 
 Alexander returned with all possible speed from this 
 romantic expedition, and arrived at Tyre, which had 
 been appointed as the general rendezvous of the forces. 
 Darius, about this time, made very advantageous pro- 
 posals to Alexander, offering to surrender to him the 
 whole country between the Euphrates and the Helles- 
 pont ; but nothing short of the empire of all Asia could 
 satisfy the ambition of Alexander. The proposals there- 
 
 fore were rejected ; and Alexander crossed the Eu- 
 phrates in search of his enemies. The two armies met 
 near Arbela ; Darius's consisting, it is said, of 600,000 
 foot, and 40,000 horse ; whilst Alexander's consisted 
 only of 40,000 foot, and 7000 or SOOOcavaliy. A terrible 
 engagement ensued, in which the Persian army was 
 entirely routed, with the loss, it is said, of 300,000 men. 
 See AuBELA. 
 
 This battle decided the fate of Asia, and introduced 
 a new era into the history of the world. Alexander en- 
 tered Babylon without opposition ; — and Darius, being 
 shortly after this murdered by his rebellious subjects, 
 left the conqueror without an enemy in Persia. After 
 having subdued many of the barbarous nations, which 
 had professed a nominal allegiance to the Persian go- 
 vernment, Alexander turned his thoughts towards India, 
 and actually penetrated as far as the Hyphasis, the mo- 
 dern Beyah. He was preparing to cross this river, for 
 no other purpose than to seek new adventures, when 
 his soldiers, seeing no end to his enterprises, began to 
 murmur, and clamorously to demand that they might be 
 permitted to return to their own country. Finding it 
 impossible to allay this spirit, and not being able to as- 
 sign any good reason for advancing farther, he was 
 obliged to yield to the importunities of his soldiers, and 
 reluctantly consented to return. His mind therefore 
 being called off from conquest, he began to turn his 
 attention to the more rational project of exploring the 
 country through part of which he had already passed. 
 A curious circumstance served to confirm him in this 
 resolution. He had observed many crocodiles in the 
 rivers which fell into the Indus : as these creatures 
 were not known to exist but in Egypt, he concluded 
 that he had discovered the sources of the Nile ; and in 
 this persuasion he prepared a fleet to sail down that 
 river to Egypt. After various adventures, he at last 
 reached the ocean, having spent nine months in this 
 navigation. Here he gave directions to conduct his fleet 
 through the Persian gulf, and to proceed up the river 
 Tigris to meet him and his army in Mesopotamia; re- 
 solving to return to Babylon with his forces by land. 
 This he effected with much difficulty, after having lost 
 about the fourth part of his army. Here terminated the 
 career of this mighty conqueror. For whilst he was 
 engaged at Babylon in lormuig schemes of future con- 
 quests, he was suddenly seized with a fever, in con- 
 sequence, as some say, of poison being administered 
 to him ; but more probably from the effects of exces- 
 sive drinking, to which he had become very much ad- 
 dicted. 
 
 The character of Alexander is familiar to every read- 
 er ; and yet it is not easy to delineate it with accuracy, 
 nor to say whether his virtues or his vices prepondera- 
 ted. That he possessed great natural endowments, 
 cannot be denied. In his early days he had a strong 
 turn for literature ; and, under the direction of Aristo- 
 tle and other eminent masters, he made rapid progress 
 in all those kinds of learning which were most calcula- 
 ted to give him an ascendency in society. He had indeed 
 the same ambition to excel in knovvlcdge that he had 
 to conquer by his arms ; and was much offended with 
 Aristotle for publishing some parts of his instructions, 
 which he thought should have been reserved for him- 
 self alone. It would have been well for himself, andf 
 
 • This is the account of Arrian. 
 Ammon. 
 
 Diodorus and others say, tliat Alexander founded this city after bis return fiom tlie tcmpk of .Tupitev
 
 392 
 
 ALEXANDER. 
 
 probably for the world, had lie confined his ambition to 
 lliis more harmless species of conquest. For the tri- 
 >miphs of litcraliirc liave this advantage, that whilst 
 they exalt the individual who acquires tliem, they tend 
 to enlarge the sphere of human knowledge, and to in- 
 crease the sum of rational enjoyment; whilst the tri- 
 umphs of war serve only to extend the empire of slavery 
 and desolation. It must also be confessed, that Alexan- 
 der possessed military talents of the very highest order; 
 and that many of his actions, which seemed to proceed 
 from rashness, were in fact liie result of superior dis- 
 cernment, which enabled him to perceive the extent of 
 the danger, and to devise proper measures for surmount- 
 ing it. We have often seen commanders who never 
 seemed to make a wrong movement, who were notwith- 
 ■standing never successful ; whilst others, who had cou- 
 rage to depart from the trammels of system, have per- 
 Ibrmed exploits which have astonished the world. In 
 addition to these splendid qualities, nobody possessed 
 self-government in a greater degree than Alexander did 
 in the beghining of his career. Even during his most 
 brilliant conquests, he was seldom guilty of any excess 
 either in eating, drinking, or illicit indulgence. Nothing 
 could be more honourable than his treatment of the wife 
 and daughters of Darius, who fell into his hands after 
 the battle of Issus. He never visited them but once, 
 and that in the most respectful manner; and thougii they 
 were most beautiful women, he would never permit any 
 to speak of their beauty in his presence, being afraid to 
 trust the frailly of his nature. 
 
 Alexander's success was so very extraordinary, that 
 it is no wonder he was in some degree intoxicated by 
 it; and since his vanity from the beginning was exces- 
 sive, as is confessed by one of his most partial biogra- 
 phers, a number of worthless sycophants, some of whom 
 degraded the name of philosopher, were continually 
 perverting his judgment with the most extravagant 
 adulations. He soon laid aside the severity of Grecian 
 manners, and imitated the pomp and luxury of the Per- 
 sians. He refused to listen any longer to the remon- 
 strances of his faitliful friends ; and when Clitus, who 
 had saved his life at the Granicus, ventured to contradict 
 him, he murdered him on the spot, by running him 
 through the body v/ith a spear ; and though his com- 
 punction for this act of cruelty and ingratitude was most 
 severe, yet the perversion of his understanding was 
 manifest from the way in which his sorrow was remo- 
 ved ; for he was soon convinced by his flatterers, that 
 the son of Jupiter, and the conqueror of tlie world, 
 could do no wrong, and that his will ought to be the 
 supreme law to his subjects. His conduct to Callisthe- 
 nes also, who refused to pay him adoration, has brought 
 eternal infamy on his name, and is reckoned by Seneca 
 more than a counterbalance to all the good actions he 
 ever performed. From the history of this prince, we 
 may see how easily uninterrupted success degrades the 
 character, and corrupts the heart ; and how necessary 
 disappointments and niisforfunes are, to teach us com- 
 mon sense, reason, and humanity. Alexander had the 
 absurdity to believe himseif a god; but on a certain 
 occasion, being severely Mounded, and seeing the blood 
 streaming from the wound, he exclaimed, " This is not 
 the ichor of the gods, but the blood of a mortal man." 
 ■In short, he \^as raised up by Providence as a scourge, 
 not as a blcs;sing to mankhid ; as an instrument of ven- 
 geance agair.st the guilty nations, not as a beneficent 
 dispense^ of happiness lo the human race. — Sir Wil- 
 
 liam Ouscley is at present engaged in writing a life of 
 Alexander chiefly founded on oriental manuscripts, (.f) 
 
 ALEX.\NDER, William, eminent as a poet, and 
 statesman, was l>orn at Minsirie, his father's estate, in 
 Scotland, A. D. 1580. Alter completing his education, 
 he travelled as tutor or companion to the duke of Ar- 
 gyll; and on his return, spent some time in retirement, 
 amusing himself with composing amorous verses. At 
 the couit of king James VI. lo which he next removed, 
 he distinguished himself by his genius and accomplish- 
 ments; and, directing his poetical talents to the instruc- 
 tion of kings and nobles, composed a series of tragedies, 
 with choruses, in imitation of the Greek and Ron»an 
 models. Nor did his muse disdain to sing on political 
 subjects : his Parxnesis, addressed to prince Henry, 
 contained many lessons exceedingly valuable to the heir- 
 apparent to a throne. He wrote likewise a Supplement 
 to the Third Part of Sir Philip Sidney's Romance, whicli 
 he published in 1613, when he was sworn one of the 
 gentlemen-ushers of the presence to prince Charles; 
 and in the following year appeared his poem, entitled, 
 " Doomsday." About this time he was knighted by 
 king James, and made master of the requests; and was 
 now to act a distinguished part in the political transac- 
 tions of that period. Having projected the establish- 
 ment of a colony at Nova Scotia, he obtained a grant of 
 that country by royal charter, in 1621. The project was 
 encouraged by Charles on his accession: Sir William 
 set forth, in a pamphlet, the advantages which the na- 
 tion would derive from it; he was appointed lieutenant 
 of Nova Scotia, and invested with the privilege of coin- 
 ing small copper money. Nay, so sanguine were the 
 hopes which Charles entertained of this settlement, thai 
 he instituted, in Scotland, a new order of knights baro- 
 net, who were to support this colony, on condition that 
 a portion of land should be assigned to each of them in 
 the new plantation. Notwithstanding these advantages, 
 the project failed ; the country was sold to the French 
 for five or six thousand pounds ; and in the conduct of 
 the whole transaction, sir William seemed to merit a 
 considerable degree of reproach. His sovereign, how- 
 ever, retained his confidence in his talents and integrity. 
 In 1626, he was raised to the office of secretary of state 
 for Scotland; and four years after, was created a peer 
 of that kingdom, by the title of viscount Stirling. At 
 his majesty's coronation, in the palace of Holyroodhouse 
 (A. D. 1633), he was made earl of Stirling, and conti- 
 nued to discharge the oflice of secretary of state with 
 great reputation, till his death, which happened in the 
 year 1640. Were we to judge of his writings by the 
 encomiums of his contemporaries, we should entertain 
 a very high opinion of his genius; and indeed those 
 works must possess a very considerable portion of merit, 
 of which Mr Addison declares, " that he had read them 
 over with the greatest satisfaction." Besides his four 
 inonarchic tragedies, and the other poems which we 
 have mentioned, he wrote an heroic poem, entitled, 
 " Jonathan," which was published with his other works, 
 about three years before his death. His plays are more 
 adapted for perusal in the closet than for theatrical re- 
 presentation. (Ic) 
 
 ALEXANDER, Severus, one of the Roman emper- 
 ors, see Jnc. Univ. Hist. vol. viii. p. 432. Crevier't 
 Rom. Emfi. vol. viii. page 279. book xxiv. Gibbon, voU 
 i. page 205. chap, vi ; page 289. chap. viii. ; vol. ii. page 
 373. chap. xvi. See also Rome, (o) 
 
 ALEXANDER was the name of three kings of Sco*
 
 ALE 
 
 ALE 
 
 393 
 
 land, the particulars of whose reigns will be given un- 
 der the article Scotland ; and of eight Popes, for 
 whose history the reader may consult Dupiu's Keel. Ilini. 
 Bower's Hist, of the Po/ies, and Mosheini's Cluirch 
 Hist, {id) 
 
 ALEXANDER'S Tomb, a valuable relic of antiquity, 
 now deposited in the British Museum, of which wc 
 have given a drawing in Plate IX. Fig. 2. It consists 
 of a single block of stone above ten feet long, nearly 
 four in height, and at a medium about five in breadth. 
 It is of surprising beauty, and all sculptured over with 
 an incredible variety of hieroglyphics, in a high state of 
 
 ALEXANDER, James, Esq. an eminent lawyer and 
 mathematician, born in Scotland, and came to New-York 
 in the year 1715. Not long after his arrival he was ap- 
 pointed to a station in the office of the secretary of the 
 province, where, to his great attainments in the law, he 
 now added a considerable acquaintance with public af- 
 fairs. Shortly after this period, in 1720, when William 
 Burnet, Esq. was appointed governor, he was chosen by 
 him, in conjunction with the celebrated Dr Colder, a 
 member of tlie council board ; "in wnich choice," says 
 the historian of New-York, (Smith) "the governor show- 
 ed his wisdom ; for they were both men of learning, 
 good morals, and solid parts." Though wanting in those 
 peculiar arts which characterize the orator, and conse- 
 quently little known as a public speaker, he was at the 
 head of his profession for profound legal knowledge, 
 sagacity and penetration. He was regularly consulted 
 on the most important questions ; and iiis replies were 
 received as tlie answers of an oracle. He was the 
 principal author, with Dr Colder, of a memorable re- 
 port on the Indian trade, in defence of the conduct of 
 governor Burnet. Upon the organization of the Ame- 
 rican Philosophical Society, in 1744, with Franklin, Hop- 
 kinson, and several other eminent men, he was created 
 a member. During a considerable part of his life, he 
 kept a Diary of the most important public events : this 
 he extended to seven or eight folio volumes, which con- 
 tain many interesting facts for the future historian. In 
 one of his volumes, he gives a minute account of the 
 yellow fever which prevailed in the city of New-York in 
 1702. He died in April, 1756. Smith's Hist of jYcw- 
 York. .American Med. and Phil. Register., vol. ii. JYeiv- 
 For;-, 1811. Francis. 
 
 ALEXANDER, William, better known by the name 
 of Lord Sterling, a brave and distinguished oflicer in 
 the American revolution; was a native of the city of 
 New-York, and born the year 1726. He was considered 
 by many as the rightful heir to the title and estate of 
 an earldom in Scotland, though he failed in obtaining an 
 acknowledgment of his claim by government. In the 
 battle at Long Island, on the 27th of August 1776, he 
 was taken prisoner, after having secured to a large de- 
 tachment an opportunity to escape by a bold attack with 
 four hundred men upon a corps under lord Cornwallis. 
 His attachment to the commander in chief of the Ame- 
 rican army was abundantly proved in the latter part of 
 1777, by his transmitting Uim an account of the disaf- 
 fection of general Conway. He is said to have discover- 
 ed an early fondness for mathematical and astronomical 
 studies, and to have obtained great eminence in these 
 sciences. He died at Albany January ISth, 1783. Jllen's 
 .,4iner. Biog. Marshall's Life of Washington, vol. iii. 
 HosACK and Francis. 
 
 Vol. I. Pakt I. 
 
 preservation. The stone, of which the sarcophagus is 
 made, appears to be a |)arliciilar kind of primitive con- 
 glomerate, resembling that which lies under the second 
 porphyry formation. 
 
 On the death of Alexander, his body was inshrined 
 in a golden chase-work, fitted lo the skin, covered with 
 a garment also of gold, over v/hich were put a purple 
 vestment, and then his armour. Two years were oc- 
 cupied in preparations for his funeral ; when his body, 
 placed in a splendid car, was conveyed from Bal)ylon to 
 Alexandria, with unequalled magnificence, and there 
 deposited in the tomb which was prepared for it by Pto- 
 lemy. Alexander was the thirteenth god of the Egyp- 
 tians. The Corabiasis also esteemed him a god, and 
 thence his tomb was worshipped. Three centuries 
 after his death, Augustus the Roman emperor viewed 
 his body, still entire, and scattered flowers on his tomb, 
 in token of his deification. Septimus Severus likewise 
 visited it 202 years after Christ, and Caracalla a few 
 years afterwards. Before that period, Caligula had 
 removed Alexander's breast-plate, and wore it himself. 
 
 Though his body long reposed in this sarcophagus, 
 it was at length removed, at a period which is unknown^ 
 The sarcophagus itself, however, continues to be wor- 
 shipped by pious Mahometans, down to the present 
 day ; and their jealousy having guarded it against the 
 approach of Christians, few had seen it during several 
 centuries. But the Frcncli, whose penetrating researches 
 have of late called many obscure, though valuable ob- 
 jects into light, despoiled the Turks of this precious re- 
 lic, during their incursion into Egypt. Though they 
 carefully secreted their acquisition, as the richest trea- 
 sure, it was at last discovered in the hold of a ship, and 
 included in the surrender to the British at Alexandria, 
 in the year 1801. See Sti-abo, lib. xvii. Diodorus Si- 
 culiis,\ih. -KX. Suetonius, f« Vita Angvsti. Alexander's 
 Egyptian Monuments, No. 1. Dr Clarke's Tomb of 
 Alexander, (c) 
 
 ALEXANDRETTA, calle^l Scanderoon by the' 
 Turks, a small sea-port town in Syria, situated on the 
 Gulf of Ajazzo. Tlic harbour ol this village aflbrds a 
 good bottom for anchoring, but is exposed to land-winds, 
 which sometimes force ships to drag their anchors for 
 several leagues, and make it impossible to enter it dur- 
 ing some months of the year. On the land side, Alex- 
 andretta is surrounded by a marshy plain, which ren- 
 ders it exceedingly unhealthy. From the month of 
 May to September, a malignant fever prevails, by which 
 ships frequently have lost their whole crew in a few 
 months. The sickly aspect of the inhabitants, at all 
 seasons, sufhciently indicates the insalubrity of the air 
 which they breathe. With such inconveniences, this 
 village entirely owes its importance to its being cm- 
 ployed as the port of Aleppo, from which it is distant 
 about 70 miles in a direct line, but upwards of 90 by the 
 usual road for caravans. E. Long. 55° 55' 15". N. Lat. 
 36° 35' 27". (^) 
 
 ALEXANDRIA, called by the Turks Scanderia, a 
 city of Lower Egypt, situated on the Mediterranean, in 
 N. Lat. 31° 13' 5''. and E. Long. 29° 55' 45". 
 
 This city, though now of but little consequence, was 
 once one of the most flourishing and celebrated of the 
 world, the populous metropolis of the kings of Egypt, 
 and long the grand seat of commerce and of wealth. 
 It was founded by Alexander the Great, who gave it his 
 own name, about 333 years before Christ, and is now the 
 only remaining monument of the widely extended con- 
 5D
 
 394 
 
 ALEXANDRIA. 
 
 quests of liiat great ami icnowncil warrior. The long 
 iinil severe check whicli he met with before the city of 
 Tyre, in the career of his victories would no doubt con- 
 vince liini of the vast resources of a nraritime power, 
 and of the immense importance of commerce ; and it 
 ■was this which is supposed to have induced him, after 
 the subjection of Egypt, to avail himself of the favour- 
 able commercial situation of that couatiy, and to lay ilie 
 foundation of that city, which, from its vicinity to the 
 Mediterranean Sea and the Arabian Gulf, has, amidst 
 all the successive revolutions of Egypt, from the time 
 of the Ptolemies till the discovery of the navigation by 
 the Cape of Good Hope, commaniltd the trade of both 
 the east and the west. From that period, however, 
 which begins a new era in the history ot commerce, the 
 trade of India has flowed in other channels; and the 
 streams of its former wealth being dried up, Alexan- 
 dria has gradually decayed, and is now deserving of no- 
 tice only on account of Us past greatness and celebrity. 
 Alexander himself drew the plan of the new city ; and 
 as there were no instruments at hand proper for the 
 purpose, he traced out the course of the walls, by scat- 
 tering meal along the ground ; a circumstance which 
 his sooth-sayer interpreted as a presage of future 
 abundance. The execution of the plan was intrusted to 
 Denocratcs, the celebrated architect, who rebuilt the 
 temple of Diana at Ephesus, whilst Alexander advanced 
 to survey the wonders of Upper Egypt. Upon his re- 
 turn about a year afterwards, the city was nearly finish- 
 ed ; and having peopled it with inhabitants from the 
 neighbouring towns, he pursued the course of his con- 
 quests. 
 
 Ancient Alexandria stood about 12 miles from the 
 Canopic branch of the Nile, with which it was united by 
 a canal. The lake Mareolis bathed its walls on the south, 
 and the Mediterranean on the north. It was divided 
 into straight parallel streets, cutting one another at 
 right angles. One great street, 2000 feet wide, ran 
 through the whole length of the city, beginning at the 
 gate of the Sea, and terminating at the gate of Canopus. 
 It was intersected by another of the same breadth, 
 which formed a square at their junction half a league in 
 circumference. From the centre of this great place, 
 the two gates were to be seen at once, and vessels ar- 
 riving under full sail from both the north and the south. 
 In these two principal streets, the noblest in the universe, 
 stood their most magnificent palaces, ternples, and pub- 
 lic buildings, in which the eye was never tired with 
 admiring the marble, the porphyry, and the obelisks, 
 ivhich were destined at some future day to embellish 
 the metropolis of the world. The chief glory of Alex- 
 andria was its harbour. It was a deep and secure bay 
 ill the Mediterranean, formed by the shore on the one 
 side, and the island of Pharos on the other, and where 
 numerous fleets might lie in complete safety. From the 
 island of Pharos, a moat of a mile in length, stretched 
 to the continent, and divided the great harbour into two. 
 That which was to the northward was called the Great 
 Port ; the other, Eunortos, or the Safe Return. With- 
 out the walls of Alexandria, and stretching along the 
 shores of the Mediterranean, near to the promontory of 
 Lcctreos was situated the palace and gardens of the 
 Ptolemies. They contained within their enclosure the 
 museum, an asylum for learned men, groves and build- 
 ings worthy of royal majesty, and a temple where the 
 body of Alexander was deposited m a golden coffin. It 
 were endless to enumerate tlie many palaces, fpmples, 
 
 theatres, and other buildings with which Alexandria and 
 its suburbs were adorned. 
 
 Alexandria owed much of its glory to the Ptolemies. 
 Ptolemy Soter, the first of that line of kings, and one of 
 the captains of Alexander, who, on the death of his mas- 
 ter, seized on his Egyptian dominions, fixed the royal 
 residence in this city, about 304 years before ClirisU 
 This prince instituted the academy called the Musuem. 
 in which a society of learned men devoted themselves to 
 the study of the sciences. He likewise founded for 
 their use the Alexandrian library, which was afterwards 
 so prodigiously increased, and one of the greatest orna- 
 ments ol tins celebrated city. It is said to have amoun- 
 ted to no less than 700,000 volumes before its destruc- 
 tion. With these advantages, and under the continuec^ 
 patronage of its sovereigns, Alexandria soon became 
 one of the most disthiguishcd seats of learning and phi- 
 losophy, and preserved its celebrity till it was plunder- 
 ed of all its literary treasures by the barbarovis hands of 
 the Saracens. Ptolemy Philadelphus, the son of Soter,- 
 completed the tower of Pharos, which his father had al- 
 ready begun. This was the famous light-house which 
 was built on the island of that name, tor the direction of 
 the innumerable vessels which entered the harbour, and 
 was reckoned amongst tlie wonders of the world. 
 
 Alexandria continued for nearly 300 years in the pos- 
 session of the Ptolemies ; but at the death of Cleopatra, 
 it passed into the power of the Romans, and was the 
 theatre of several memorable events in the history of 
 that people. It sometimes might receive a favour at 
 the hands of its masters ; but it as frequently obtained 
 its full share of all the calamities which the tyranny, 
 the cruelty, or weakness of the Roman emperors in- 
 flicted on the rest of the empire. 
 
 In 638, the Saracens invaded Egypt, and the follow- 
 ing year Amrou their general commenced the siege of 
 Alexandria, which was perhaps the most arduous en- . 
 terprise in the annals of his conquests. After a vigorous 
 resistance of about fourteen months, the Saracens, how- 
 ever, prevailed, and the standard of Mahomet was plan- 
 ted on the walls of the capital of Egypt. It was at this 
 time that the Alexandrian library met with its memor- 
 able fate. Abulfaragius, an Arabian historian, gives the 
 following account of this catastrophe. John Philoponus, 
 surnamed the Grammarian, a famous Peripatetic philo- 
 sopher, being at Alexandria when the city was taken by 
 the Sai"acens, was admitted to familiar intercourse with 
 Amrou, and presumed to solicit a gift, inestimable in 
 his opinion, but contemptible in that of the barbarians,— 
 and that was the royal library. Amrou was inclined to 
 gratify his wish ; but his rigid integrity scrupled to 
 alienate the least object without the consent of the Ca- 
 liph. He accordingly wrote to Omar, whose well-known 
 answer was dictated by the ignorance of a fanatic. "If 
 these writings of the Greeks agree with the Koran, or 
 book of God, they are useless, and need not be preserv- 
 ed ; if they disagree, they are pernicious, and ought to 
 be destroyed." The sentence of destruction was ex- 
 ecuted with blind obedience ; the volumes of paper or 
 parchment were distributed to the 4000 baths of the 
 city ; and such was their number, that six weeks was 
 barely sufficient for the consumption of this precious 
 fuel. 
 
 Under the Roman and Greek emperors, as well as 
 under the Ptolemies, for nearly a space of 1000 years, 
 Alexandria continued to maintain its reputation for 
 power and wealtbj and l^ewise for literature and sci-
 
 ALE 
 
 ALE 
 
 395 
 
 encfe ; but from the pei-iod -when it came under the do- 
 minion of the Saracens, all its glories have declined, 
 till it has gradually arrived at its present degradation. 
 When commerce revived in the 13Ui century, it natu- 
 rally looked out for its former well known channel ; and 
 the condition of Alexandria began again for a short time 
 to brighten; but the discovery of the Cape of Good 
 Hope, which was made about tliat time, soon crushed its 
 returning prosperity, and foi' ever diverted the sources 
 of its wealth into a different channel. 
 
 The present state of this city presents a scene of 
 magnificent ruin and desolation. For the space of two 
 leagues, nothing is to be seen but the remains of pilas- 
 ters, of capitals, and of obelisks, and whole mountains 
 of shattered monuments of ancient art, heaped upon 
 one another to a greater height than that of the houses. 
 The famous tower of Pharos has been long since demo- 
 lished, and a square castle, without taste, ornament, or 
 strength, erected in its stead. The lake Mareotis, 
 through the carelessness of the Turks in preserving the 
 canals which conveyed the waters of the Nile, no lon- 
 ger exists ; but its place is now occupied by the sands of 
 Libya. 
 
 The modern city is built near the brink of the sea, on 
 a kind of peninsula situated between the two harbours 
 above mentioned, called now the New and Old harbours. 
 The New port, which is allotted for Europeans, is 
 clogged up with sand, which renders its entrance diffi- 
 cult and dangerous. The Old port, or, as it is some- 
 times called, the Port of Africa, into which Christian 
 vessels are not allowed to enter, is much larger than the 
 former, and has much deeper water; but as the vessels 
 are continually throwing their ballast into it, this har- 
 bour likewise is in danger of being at last filled up. 
 The houses of Alexandria, like those of the Levant, 
 have flat terrace roofs ; they have no windows ; the 
 apertures which supply their place are so entirely ob- 
 structed by wooden lattices, that the light can scarcely 
 force a passage. The streets are narrow, and awkwardly 
 disposed, and are without pavement. No public edifice, 
 no private building, arrests the eye of the stranger. 
 The nvmiber of inhabitants, consisting of a collection 
 from various nations, may be estimated at 5000, as far 
 as an estimation can be made in a country where no re- 
 gister of any thing is kept. The British and French 
 nations carry on a considerable trade with Alexandria, 
 and have each a consul residing there. The subjects 
 of those kingdoms who have no consul are subjected to 
 a tax by the Grand Siguier. The language of this place 
 is Arabic ; but most of the inhabitants speak likewise 
 Italian. The government of Alexandria is like that of 
 other places of Egypt, and is conducted by an Aga, who 
 has under him a kadi and sub-basha. It has a small gar- 
 rison, who are haughty and insolent, not only to stran- 
 gers, but to the mercantile and industrious part of the 
 inhabitants. By established regulations, the castle of 
 Pharos ought to be garrisoned with 500 troops ; but it 
 never has half that number, nor more than four cannons. 
 The whole of the fortifications of Alexandria might 
 easily be beaten down by a single frigate ; but from the 
 want of water, it would be difficult to keep possession of 
 the town, without being masters of the surrounding coun- 
 try. In the year 1798, when the French government 
 sent out an expedition under Bonaparte, for the purpose 
 of taklne possession of Egypt, Alexandria was carried 
 by assaulion the 4th July; the Arabs and Mamelukes 
 v-ho defended il were put to flight, and about 900 of them 
 
 killed. It remained in possession of the French till 1801, 
 when it was retaken by the English army under the com- 
 mand of general Hutchinson. At the conclusion of the 
 war, it was restored to the Turks, under whose domi- 
 nion it has since continued. See Aminian. Marccllw. 
 lib. xxii. cap. 16.; Ancient Universal History, \o\. viii. p. 
 165.; Gibbon, vol. ix. p. 392., I2mo. chap. 51. ; White't 
 Jiffy/itiaca ; Mcmoires sur t'Egyfitc, Paris, 1802 ; Walsh's 
 Journal of the Camjiaign in Jig-yfit, p. 229; Regnier's 
 ^lafe of Jiify/it aflcr chc Battle of Hcliopolis, p. 36. (6) 
 
 ALEXANDRIA, or Alessandria, a city of Italy, 
 in the district of Alexandrin, or Alexandrino, in the 
 dutchy of Milan, situated in a marshy country, on the 
 river Tanaro. It was built by Pope Alexander III.; 
 who, in founding a dutchy hi this country, changed its 
 former name Ca:sario into that of Alexandria. This 
 pope made it a bishopric, suflVagan of Milan, and con- 
 ferred on it several other privileges. It was surnamed 
 Delia Paglia, eitlier because the inhabitants use stubble 
 for fuel, or because the Germans contemptuously called 
 it Palcaris, a fortress of straw. It is now the capital of 
 the department of Marengo, in the French empire, si- 
 tuated about 170 leagues S. E. of Paris, and is said to 
 contain 32,225 inhabitants. It is 38 miles east of Turin, 
 and 37 S. S. W. of Milan. N. Lat. 4^ 48'. E. Long. 8° 
 59'. (yC-)* 
 
 ALEXIPPOS, a name given by its inventor, Mr. 
 Snart, to a sliding lever, to be fixed to the under side 
 of a cart, for the relief of horses, when thrown down, 
 or entangled in the thills. See Transactions of the So- 
 ciety for the Encouragement of Arts, vol. xviii. p. 234; 
 or Refiertory of Arts, vol. xv. p. 110. (o) 
 
 ALEXIS, MicHAELowiTz, one of the czars of Russia, 
 distinguished by the excellence of his character, both 
 as a man and a prince. See Modern Universal History, 
 vol. xxxi. p. 424. 462.; Tooke's History of Russia, vol. 
 ii. p. 14.; and Russia. {iu) 
 
 ALEXIUS, CoMNENus I., emperor of the East. See 
 Ancient Universal History, vol. xv. p. 136. 151.; Gib- 
 bon's History, vol. ix. p. 70. 12mo. chap. 48.; Hume, 
 vol. i. p. 323. chap. 6. ; and Ro^me. (tu) 
 
 ALEXIUS, CoMxENUs II., the son of the former, 
 and emperor of the East. See Ancient Universal History, 
 vol. XV. p. 157.; Gibbon's History, vol. ix. p. 78. chap. 
 48. ; and Rome, (nu) 
 
 • ALFRAGAN, or al Fargani, a celebrated Arabic 
 astronomer, who was born at Fcrgan about the end of 
 the 8th century, during the caliphate of the illustrious 
 Almamon. He wrote a treatise on elementary astronomy, 
 in thirty sections, founded on the Ptolemaic hypothesis. 
 This work has been thrice translated into Latin. See 
 Modern Universal History, vol. ii. p. 202.; and Hutton's 
 Math. Diet. Art. Alfragan. {o) 
 
 ALFRED THE Great, king of England, was the 
 fourth son of Ethelwolf; and, at the age of 23 years, 
 
 * ALEXANDRIA, a flourishing city in Virginia, on 
 the south bank of the Potomac river, about five miles 
 south-west from the Federal City, lat. 38° 45' N. 77° 10' 
 W. long. Its situation is elevated and pleasant ; the 
 soil, however, is clayey, and the inhabitants are greatly 
 incommoded from the want of good water. The streets 
 are laid out after the manner of those in Philadelphia. 
 Mount Vernon, the seat of the celebrated Washington, 
 is seated about nine miles below tliis city on the bank 
 of the Potqjuac. IIosack & Francis. 
 ■3D*2
 
 396 
 
 ALFRED. 
 
 succeedcdliis brother Ethclrcd, in 871. He was called 
 to the throne, in preference to his brother's children, 
 both by the will of his father, and by the wishes of the 
 whole nation. The dangers, whicli threatened the king- 
 dom, required an active and intelligent prince to be im- 
 meaiatcly placed at the head of attUirs ; and scarcely 
 had Alfred passed through the ceremony of coronation 
 when he had to contend with a formidable enemy in the 
 heart of his domhiious. The Danes, who were in pos- 
 session of Northumberland and East Anglia, iiad seize3 
 upon Wiitoii, and commenced their usual ravages. Al- 
 fred collected hastdy a lew troops, and marched against 
 them ; engaged them with considerable success at first, 
 but was obliged, by the superiority of their numbers, to 
 leave the held. He recruited his army, however, so 
 vigorously, and the Danes had sufl'ered so severely in 
 the late contest, that they sued for peace ; and agreed 
 to depart from his territories, on condition that he should 
 not appear against them in any other part of England. 
 They retired to London, and turned their arms against 
 Mercia, whose king, Buthred, they laid under heavy 
 contributions, and forced at length to abandon his king- 
 dom. A fresh body of Danes airived, in 875, under 
 Haldene their chief; but Alfred, trusting to the late 
 treaty, took no measures against them. They made a 
 sudden incursion into the centre of his dominions, and 
 {seized Wercham, one of his strongest fortresses. He 
 soon reduced them to enter into a treaty; and bound 
 them to the observance of it, by making them swear on 
 the holy relics. This new compact they broke almost 
 instantly; surprised and routed the army of Alfred; 
 marched to Exeter, and made themselves masters of the 
 place. The prince, collecting arid animating his troops, 
 pressed them with the greatest vigour, and, by mean-s 
 of a few galleys which he had fitted out, reduced them 
 to such extremities, that they capitulated, gave hosta- 
 ges, and agreed to settle peaceably in the country. These 
 new settlers, however, finding themselves straitened for 
 ■want of territory, and the old settlers being afraid of 
 losing their possessions, and some fresh bands having 
 arrived from Denmark, tliese all united in a body, and 
 poured into Essex. The subjects of Alfred, w-orn out 
 by so many continued sU'uggles, and affrighted by this 
 torrent of invaders, deserted their prince, and submitted 
 to their enemies. He was obliged to dismiss'even the 
 few faitliful attendants, who were willing to follow him; 
 disguised himself in a peasant's dress ; and sought con- 
 cealment in a neat-herd's cottage, where he continued 
 for some timet patiently submitting to be treated as a 
 servant. From this retreat, he passed with a few adhe- 
 rents, whom he had collected, to the isle of Athelney, 
 in Somersetshire, where he was secured in the centre 
 of a morass, and from v/hich he n^ade frequent excur- 
 sions. In the mean time, the earl of Devonshire, who 
 had taken shelter with a fev/ followers in Kenwith cas- 
 tle, was besieged by the Danes. Being pressed with 
 the want of provisions, and observing that his enemies 
 were not very watchful against any attempt from his little 
 garrison, he made a vigorous sally upon the Danish 
 forces, threw them into the utmost confusion, slew 
 Hubba their chief, and took their famous standard, 
 which was supposed to be possessed of a prophetical 
 power, and of magical influence. Alfred, having heard 
 of this success, began to concert measures with his 
 friends; collected small bodies of men in different parts, 
 
 ready to unite at the shortest warning ; and, in order 
 to discover the state of the enemy, entered the Danish 
 camp in the disguise of a harper. Having examined it 
 for several days, and ascertanied its unguaided condi- 
 tion, he returned to his adherents; appointed Selwood 
 forest as the rendezvous of his troops ; and, before the 
 Danes could have any intelligence of his motions, ap- 
 peared before them with a numerous army, attacked 
 them in the midst of their surprise, and defeated thcni 
 with great slaughter. Those who escaped, soon sub- 
 mitted to his power, and had their lives spared, upon 
 condition either of inmiediately leaving the island, or 
 of becoming Christians, and settling among his subjects. 
 The greater part, with Guthrum their general, accepted 
 the latter proposal ; and the rest, with Hastings at theii 
 head, sailed to I'landers in quest of plunder. Alfred, 
 freed from his enemies, began to pursue the most pru- 
 dent and active measures for the security of his king- 
 dom, formed his subjects into a regular militia, erected 
 fortresses, and surrounded his towns with walls. He 
 particularly repaired and strengthened the city of Lon- 
 don, and increased and improved his naval force. Bv 
 these, and other wise regulations, he prevented farther 
 invasions from the Danes, and kept those, who were in 
 the khigdom, in quiet submission. This tranquillity, 
 which had continued about ten or twelve years, was in- 
 terrupted in 893, by the return of Hastings with an im- 
 mense lleet, and by the rebellion of the Danish settlers' 
 in Northurnbria. With these invaders, Alfred carried on 
 a long and arduous struggle, defeated them in many en- 
 gagements; pursued their divided bands from place to 
 place ; drove them at length from his dominions, or re- 
 duced them to subjection ; and, having established peace 
 over all England, reigned in full tranquillity during the 
 remainder of his life. After having filled the throne 
 nearly thirty years, highly respected and beloved by his 
 subjects, he died in the fifty-second year, of his aee, .A.D. 
 991, and was interred in the church of Great Driffield, 
 in Yorkshire. By his wife Ethelswitha, he had three 
 sons and three daughters. The eldest of his sons, Ed- 
 mund, died before his father; the second, Ethehvold, 
 retired to a private life, and devoted himself to study ; 
 and the third, Edward, succeeded to the throne. 
 
 The character of Alfred stands high in the records of 
 history, and he is considered as one of the best and 
 wisest princes that ever adorned the annals of any na- 
 tion. As a king, he was peculiarly eminent for his civil 
 and military qualities, and did every thing possible for 
 the good of his people ; as a man, he set them an exam- 
 ple of every personal virtue. It would require a volume 
 to give a particular detail of his political institutions and 
 domestic arrangements. He secured his kingdom from 
 external violence, by a judicious disposition of his fleet 
 and militia: he provided for the internal peace of his 
 dominions, by drawing up a code of laws;* by appoint- 
 ing proper courts; by hiquirlng carefully into the con- 
 duct and qualifications of the judges; by dividing the 
 kingdom into counties, hundreds, and tythings, for the 
 purpose of repressing vagrants, and discovering offend- 
 ers. He promoted the prosperity and comfort of his 
 subjects, by encouraging commerce; by institutins; ma- 
 nufactures ; by exciting an attention to the common arts 
 of life ; by inviting from all qviarters, and rewarding li- 
 berally, industrious mechanics, and ingenious artists, of 
 every description. He took the most effectual measures 
 
 TUs, though now lost, is supposed to have been the foundation of the cororaon law of En jUand.
 
 ALG 
 
 ALG 
 
 397 
 
 for the instruclion of his people hi religious and useful 
 knowledge, by repairing Uic inonasleries, and I'eple- 
 nibhing tlieii- libraries; by founding and endowing col- 
 ^eges at Oxford; l)y inviting the niosL celebrated scho- 
 lars in Europe to liis court ; by establishing schools every 
 where, enjoining every frcclioldcr, possessing two hides 
 of land, (what was sullicient to employ two ploughs,) to 
 send his children to these seminaries; and preforiing, 
 both in church and slate, those who had made most pro- 
 ficiency in knowledge, lie gave a still farther encou- 
 ragement to learning by his own example ; and increased 
 the means ot knowledge by his own exertions. He is 
 said to have been the best Saxon poet of his time ; and 
 composed, in verse, various fables, parables, and stories, 
 suited to the instruction of an unenlightened people. 
 He was eminent also as a grammarian, philosopher, ar- 
 chitect, mathematician, and historian. He composed a 
 variety of works ; and translated several authors, such as 
 the Fables of Esop, Gregory's Pastoral Care, Bedc's 
 Ecclesiastical History, and Boetius on the Consolations 
 of Philosophy, with which last he was so much delighted 
 that he always carried it in his bosom. He is said to have 
 translated tlie Old and New Testaments ; and it is at 
 least certain, that he had made considerable progress in 
 a version of the Psalms. It was impossible that he coidd 
 have found leisure for these literary occupations, if he 
 had not made a regular distribution, as well as diligent 
 application of his time ; he devoted eight hours to study 
 and devotion ; eight to the discharge of public business ; 
 and eight to the refreshment of his body, by food, exer- 
 cise and sleep.* He was equally faithful and regular in 
 the use of his private wealth, which he divided into two 
 parts ; one of these was assigned entirely to charitable 
 purposes, and distributed into four portions: the first, 
 for alms to the poor ; the second, for the maintenance of 
 monasteries; the third,for the support of professors and 
 students ; and the lourth for tiie relief of indigent 
 monks. The other half was applied to the three fol- 
 lowing uses: to the expenditure of his household; to 
 the payment of architects, and other artists; and to the 
 pensioning of learned foreigners, whom he had brought 
 to his kingdom. " O Alfred !" we may justly exclaim 
 in the words of an old writei-, " the wonder and astonish- 
 ment of all ages 1 If we reflect upon the devout part of 
 him, he seems to have lived always in a cloister ; if, on 
 his conduct and exploits in the field, one woidd think 
 he had spent his days in the camfi ; if, on his writings 
 and studies, one would conclude that the university had 
 engrossed him ; and, lastly, if we regard his prudence 
 and skill in the administration of government, he seems 
 to have made law and /lotitics his whole study." 
 
 The particular spot in the church of Great Driffield, 
 where the remains of Alfred were deposited, was dis- 
 covered in 1784, by two members of the Antiquarian 
 Society. Upon opening the stone coffin, they discover- 
 ed the complete skeleton of Alfred, along with the 
 greater part of his steel armour. From respect to the 
 remains of that illustrious king, the coffin and grave 
 were immediately closed. See Rapin's Hist, of Kng. 
 vol. i. Hume's Ditto, vol. i. chap. ii. Asserius. Spel- 
 man's Life of Alfred. (</) 
 
 ALGiE, a division of plants in the class cryptogamia, 
 eomprehending all the sea-weeds and other aquatic 
 
 plants. Sec Withering's Arrangement cf British I'lants, 
 v. ]. p. 369. Transactions of the Linnean Hocieti/, v. iii. p. 
 84. Commentut. Acad. Theod',ro-Pulatinx, torn. ii. p. 423. 
 Transactions of the American Pliiloso/ihical Society, v. iii. 
 p. 202. P////. '/Vans. 1796, p. 4'J4. See also Botany, (o) 
 
 ALGAROTTI, Count, was born at Venice, of a re- 
 spectable family, on the 1 Ith December, 1712. At the 
 age of 14, after his father's death, he was sent to Bo- 
 logna, and prosecuted his stutlies, under the care ol Eu- 
 stachio Manfredi, and Francis Zanoiti. Tho latter in- 
 spired him with a passion for mathematics and physics ; 
 and such were his talents, and attractive manners, that 
 each of his masters composed a work for his parlicuhu' 
 improvement. That of Zanotti was a Treatise on Op- 
 tics, agreeably to the Newtonian theory; that of Man- 
 fredi, a Tract on Chronology, as connected with astro- 
 nomy. 
 
 Algarotti very early appeared as a poet, and love was 
 the parent of his first compositions ; but he afterwards 
 confined himself to the graver subjects of philosophy. 
 At Bologna, also, he directed his attention to anatomy, 
 medicine, and theology. 
 
 While he remained in this city, Rizetti published his 
 work lie Luminis affectionibus, in which he zealouslv 
 controverted the opinions of Newton. Bologna v/as di- 
 vided into two parties, and the celebrity of this author 
 gained many converts to his doctrines. Algarotti, 
 though very young, stood forth as the champion of New- 
 ton, and repeated all his experiments on colours, in the 
 presence of the whole university, with such success, as 
 to silence his antagonists, and procure for the Newto- 
 nian theory a more general reception. The effect of 
 these experiments was seconded by an ingenious dis- 
 sertation, written ui Latin ; which he read to the acade- 
 my of Bologna, with great applause. 
 
 In 1732, he visited Florence, in company with Za- 
 notti, for whom he always entertained the highest af- 
 fection and gratitude ; a proof of which he gave, in pub- 
 lishing, at his own expense, in Venice, an edition of his 
 friend's poems, and sending every copy to him, accom- 
 panied with an elegant dedication lo his other precep- 
 tor, Manfredi. From Florence he went to Rome, and 
 assiduously improved the advantages which that city 
 afforded him, lor cultivating the fine arts, in which he 
 quickly became a distinguished connoisseur. It was 
 here too he put the first hand to the best of all his 
 works, *' II Newtonianismo per Ic Dame." These dia- 
 logues he had projected some time before ; and the mo- 
 del which he proposed to himself was the celebrated 
 work of Fontenelle, on the plurarity of worlds; but, in 
 spite of the confidence which he uniformly discovered 
 in his own powers, he despaired of executing his task 
 successfully, and had entirely abandoned it, till the ur- 
 gent and flattering entreaties of his friends at Rome, 
 engaged him to renew his labours. It was not, how-, 
 ever, till several years after, that this work was given to 
 the world; and, during this interval, every feeling and 
 occupation seem to have been subservient to his desire 
 of rendering it worthy of a high reputation. From Rome 
 Algarotti removed to Paris, wlierc his wit and genius 
 introduced him to inany of the distinguished literati of 
 France ; but, in this luxurious city, he also contracted a 
 love of pleasure, which deeply sullied his character. 
 
 • In order to measure out these divisions of his time, he employed, for every tventy-fi air hours, six wax candles, each a foot in lencftb, 
 havinpr thi- iiirlies marked by circvilar coloured lines. Every inch usually lasted the third part of an hour; and to make tlicm burn nior-e 
 equally, he enclosed themin lanthorns of horn.
 
 )98 
 
 ALG 
 
 ALG 
 
 Wc afterwards find him in England, on an intimate 
 fooling with Lord Harvey, Lady W. Montague, Mr 
 I'opc, Lord burlinglon, aiui other celebrated characters. 
 lie cultivated particularly the friendship of Mr Folk.es, 
 the President of the Royal Society, of which he was ad- 
 mitted a fellow; and that of Mrs Conduit, the niece of 
 Sir Isaac Newton, in whose house lie was gralitied witn 
 an examination ot some manuscripts, and other precious 
 relics of that illustrious philosopher. 
 
 Before leaving France, Algarotti had visited Voltaire 
 and the Marchioness of Chatellel, atCircy, and had read 
 to them his dialogues, with which they were highly in- 
 terested ; and, on nis return to England, he had the gra- 
 tihcation to find, that this circumstance had directed 
 their attention in the most ardent manner to similar 
 subjects. The Marchioness was surrounded with books 
 on geometry and physics ; and Voltaire had already 
 sketched the elements of his work on the Newtonian 
 philosophy. 
 
 An attack by Monsier Du Fay, on the Newtonian 
 theory of colours, again called forth the enthusiasm of 
 Algarotti in its defence. Du Fay professed to resolve 
 light only into three primitive colours, and Algarotti 
 contended for its distribution into seven, in two me- 
 moirs, written in French ; which he entitled, " Le pour 
 et Le contre." 
 
 By the invitation of Lord Baltimore, he accompanied 
 that nobleman to Petersburgh, and thence to Berlin, 
 where he was introduced to the Prince Royal of Prussia, 
 afterwards Frederic the Great. This visit seems to 
 have made a veiy strong impression on Frederic ; for, 
 no sooner had he ascended the throne, than he invited 
 Algarotti to his court, retained him about his person, 
 created him a count and knight of the Order of Merit, 
 and, in 1747, appointed him his chamberlain, with a 
 a splendid salary. Nor was it merely as a philosopher, 
 or man of taste and letters, that he enjoyed the intimacy 
 of this prince ; for we find, that his talents as a poli- 
 tician were likewise called into action, in sonle diplo- 
 matic transactions of considerable nicety and import- 
 ance. These Algarotti managed with an ability not to 
 be expected from a man whose life had been devoted to 
 such difl'erent pursuits. While in Berlin, he is thus cha- 
 racterized by another of the literary companions of Fre- 
 deric : " He was full of wit, of affectation and of self- 
 love ; a Frenchman in genius, an Italian in character, 
 disagreeable in society, otten exposed to the royal plea- 
 santry, and receiving it as a favour." But, if a rival, 
 picqued probably by Algarotti's superior attainments, 
 can paint him in no darker colours than these, we might 
 almost be tempted to consider this description as ap- 
 proaching to a panegyric. Algarotti, from a humble 
 situation, had raised himself to be the companion of 
 princes, who appeared to contend for his friendship ; and 
 a prince had even condescended to be the translator of 
 his work into the Russian tongue. To profound genius 
 he added the most brilliant powers of wit and humour, 
 which were embellished by the possession of every per- 
 sonal accomplishment. He was distinguished as a phi- 
 losopher, a poet, a politician, and a connoisseur and pro- 
 ficient in most of the fine arts. That such a man Should 
 have acquired such a confidence in himself, that, by his 
 rivals, was construed into ridiculous vanity and affecta- 
 tion, is surely no subject of wonder; and if it was a 
 weakness in Algarotti not to return blow for blow, when 
 his royal, but jealous and irritable benefactor, thought 
 proper to assail him with his wit, it was certainly a 
 
 weaknr^ss from which few courtiers arc free, and which 
 seems to have been chargeaoie on every iiiUiviaual of 
 that bnlliant circle of philosophers wnicii Frederick, had 
 collected about his tnrone. 
 
 Algarotti was ao less a favourite of Stanislaus, king 
 of Poland and elector ot Saxony, who rcwarucu his ex- 
 ertions lor introducing anu iiiiprovuig the fine arts in 
 his dominions, by creatuig him a counsellor of war, and 
 conterring upon nun oiiier honours. At the courts of 
 Berlin and Dresden, making occasional excursions to his 
 native country, he spent the reiuainuer oi liis days, and 
 died at Pisa, in tne year 1764. in nis will, he allotted 
 a sum of money for building his tomt), the plan of which, 
 with the epitaph, he had previously designed. This 
 circumstance has been construed inio a proof of extrava- 
 gant vanity, perhaps with injustice, as the sum allotted 
 lor this purpose, to a man ol Algarotti's fortune, was in- 
 considerable, and lar Irom adequate to the erection ot so 
 splendid a structure as ouglit to b. mg nis memory un- 
 der this imputation. The upi.aph is well known: "Mc 
 jacct Algarotti, std 7ion omnin;" and, if we consider these 
 words merely as a declaration of his belief in a future 
 state of existence, it has a claim to our approbation, for 
 its impressive and decent simplicity. 
 
 The works of Algarotti have never attamed a high 
 reputation in this country, but many editions of them 
 have appeared on the Continent. His Mime, or verses, 
 are full of rich imagery and poetical sentiment. His 
 prose works discover learning, elegance, ingenuity, and 
 protound reflection ; but his compositions are in general 
 chai'actenzed by the want of simplicity, and passion for 
 brilliant conceits. His Newtonianism is a popular and 
 interesting illustration of the subject, and is well fitted 
 to attract young minds to a study, from which they 
 might be deterred by the more difficult and profound 
 treatises of other writers. * 
 
 His works, written in Italian, are, L Rime, 1733. 2. 
 Jl jVeii'ionianismo fler le Dame, ovvero Dialogki,aofira la 
 Luce, e i Colori. 3. JLettere di Potiatizio ad Ermogene 
 intunio alia Traduzione dell' Uneide del Caro. 4. Saggio 
 Critico intorno alle Facolla della Mente Umana. 5. // 
 Congresso di Citera. 6. Ragionamenlo so/ira la durata 
 de' Regni de' Re di Roma. 7. Lettera in Risfiosta di 
 quanto si dice contra il J^ewtonianisnio, dell' Antinewto- 
 nianismo dell' Sig. Conte Gio. Rizetli. Besides these, he 
 published in French, 1. Memoire sur la Recherche enter- 
 prise, fiar Monsieur Dufay, s'iln'y a effectivement dans la 
 Lumiere que trois Couleurs /irimitives. 2. Second Me- 
 moire sur les sept Couleurs primitives pour servir de Re- 
 ponse a ce que M. Dufay, a (lit a ce Sujet dans la feuille 
 233 du Pour et Contre. He likewise published in Latin, 
 De Coloruni immutabilitate, eorumque diversa rejrangibili- 
 tatc,Dissertatio. The works of Algarotti were publish- 
 ed in 16 vols. 8 vo, in 1791. (r) 
 
 ALGARVA, Algarvia, Algarvez, is the most 
 southern province of Portugal, and still retains the title 
 of a kingdom. It is bounded on the south and west by 
 the Atlantic ocean; on the east by the Guadiana, which 
 separates it from Andalusia; and, on the north, it is 
 separated from Alentejo, by a broken chain of moun- 
 tains, called Serra de Algarvc, and Serra de Monchique, 
 which extend from Villa do Bispo to the Guadiana, and 
 are composed of sand-stone and argillaceous schistus. 
 These wild and barren mountains are separated by nar- 
 row valleys, from a chain of low but steep limestone 
 mountains, uncultivated, and covered with loose stones, 
 which extend from Cape St Vincent to Tavira, where
 
 ALU 
 
 ALG 
 
 399 
 
 they icrnimatc in a narrow strip ol' cultivatcil land, 
 reaching to the sea, on which arc built most oi the towns 
 and villages of Algarva. The hills grow constantly flat- 
 ter towards Cape St Vincent, and the proniontoiy it- 
 self, consisting of gray limestone, is so bare and rug- 
 ged, that it is difficult to travel over it. The sea-coast 
 is bold and rocky, rising occasionally to a height of 80 
 feet. This province, which is 90 miles long, and 201 
 broad, is in general well cultivated ; but, at a distance 
 of two leagues from the coast, nothing is to be seen but 
 barren hills. Though the consumption of corn exceeds 
 the produce of the country, yet the bread in Algarva is 
 superior to that in any other part of Portugal. The oil 
 is also of a superior quality, and is exported in great 
 quantities. Contrary to the custom of the country, all 
 the wine is white. The principal produce of Algarva 
 is figs, which are exported when dried ; and almonds 
 grow in great quantities round Tavira, where there is 
 also much garden fruit, Spanish reeds, and flax. With 
 the exception of Greece, Algarva is the only country 
 that practises caprification, or the method of ripening 
 
 the domestic fig by the puncturing of gnats. This pro- 
 vince is capable of great improvement. Excepting in 
 the neighbourhood of Faro, there are no high-roads in 
 the province, but merely puilis for foot passengers and 
 horses. During the earthquake at Lisbon, in 1755, the 
 sea swelled to such a degree, that it passed over the 
 creek at the port of Sagres, and inundated the whole 
 country. The inhabitants of Algarva are inferior to the 
 rest of the Portuguese in politeness and refinement, 
 but this defect is compensated by superior wit and 
 acutencss. As mariners, they are unrivalled by any of 
 their countrymen. The boatmen of Lisbon are chiefly 
 Algarvians, and it is not uncommon to find the inhabi- 
 tants of this province servhig in the navy of other na- 
 tions. The chief town of Algarva is properly La- 
 gos, though the governor, along with a provcdor, re- 
 sides at Tavira. The population of this province, ac- 
 cording to the enumeration of the governor in 1780, is 
 93,472, of whom 6521 were husbandmen, and 5575 la- 
 bourers. See Link's Travels in Portut^al., p. 434— 
 343. (jr) 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 I. The science of algebra, like that of arithmetic, is 
 employed in reasoning concerning the relations which 
 subsist among different quantities, in respect of their 
 magnitudes. In both sciences the quantities treated of 
 are expressed by symbols. In arithmetic, these are the 
 ten numeral characters ; but, in algebra, they may be 
 any characters whatever: the letters of the alphabet 
 are however, at present, always used ; and these are 
 employed to denote, not only the known or given quan- 
 tities, to which alone the arithmetical notation will ap- 
 ply, but also the unknown quantities, or such as are re- 
 quired to be found. 
 
 2. The two sciences thus agreeing in the objects of 
 which they treat, and, to a certain extent, in their rea- 
 sonings being carried on by means of symbols, they, 
 of course, depend upon the same first principles. In- 
 deed, such is their connexion, that algebra has been 
 denominated universal arithmetic, a name, which, in 
 some respects, is proper enough, although it does not 
 completely express the distinction between them ; the 
 essential character of algebra consisting in this, that, 
 when all the quantities concerned in any inquiry, to 
 which it is applied, are denoted by general symbols, 
 the results of its operations do not, like those of arith- 
 metic and geometry, give the individual values of the 
 quantities sought, but only show what are the arithmeti- 
 cal, or geometrical, operations, which ought to be per- 
 formed on the original given quantities, in order to de- 
 termine these values. 
 
 History. 
 
 3. The earliest writer on algebra, whose works have 
 descended to the present times, was Diophantus, one 
 of the most celebrated mathematicians of the Alexan- 
 drian school. He flourished about the year 350 after 
 Christ, and wrote thirteen books, in the Greek language, 
 on algebra, or arithmetic, of which, however, only six 
 are at present extant, and an imperfect book on a par- 
 ticular class of numbers. His work is not an elemen- 
 tary treatise on algebra, but only collections of diffi- 
 
 cult questions, relative to square and cube numbers, 
 and other curious properties of numbers, with their 
 solutions. 
 
 It is not possible to determine whether or not Dio- 
 phantus himself was the inventor of this science. It 
 is certain, however, that he was deeply skilled in it, 
 although we cannot exactly say to what extent. It ap- 
 pears from some parts of his work, that he knew the 
 composition of the third and fourth powers of a binomial 
 quantity, as he puts down all their terms. He also men- 
 tions a compound quadratic equation ; but his assump- 
 tions and notations are all so contrived, as to produce 
 simple equations, or at most pure quadratics. The 
 celebrated Hypatia, the daughter of Theon, wrote a com- 
 mentary on his writings, which however is lost. Such 
 of his works, as are at present known, were found in the 
 Vatican library, about the middle of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury. They were then translated into Latin, and pub- 
 lished with a commentary by Xylander in 1575. But 
 the best edition of his works is that published in 1670, 
 in Greek and Latin, with a commentary by Bachet, and 
 the notes of Fermat. 
 
 4. Although Diophantus was the earliest known wri- 
 tei- on algebra, yet it was not from him, but from the 
 Arabians or Moors, that the science was first received 
 in Europe. It is not certainly known, how they became 
 acquainted with it. As, however, they possessed it at 
 nearly as early a period as the other sciences, which they 
 certainly received from the Greeks, they probably de- 
 rived their knowledge of algebra from Diophantus, or 
 other Greek writers. Some, however, have supposed, 
 that they had it from the Persians, and these again froni 
 the Indians, as well as the arithmetical method of com- 
 puting by ten characters or figures; and this opinion is 
 founded upon the Arabians having, in denominating 
 the powers of quantities, adopted a different method 
 from that of Diophantus. The Arabians themselves 
 ascribe the invention of the science to a writer of their 
 own country, one JMafiomrt ben Musa, or son of Mo- 
 ses, who, it seems, flourished about the eighth or ninth 
 century. It is more likely, however, that he was not
 
 400 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 the inventor, l)ut only a person well skilled in the ait. 
 And, upon the whole, the first opinion we have men- 
 tioned seems the most probable, namely, that alii;ebra, 
 like its kindred scienees, geometry and astronomy, 
 passed from Greece into Arabia; and, in this last 
 country it certainly received the name it now bears, 
 the exact etymology of which, however, is not exactly 
 known. 
 
 5. Wc do not precisely know the extent of the pro- 
 gress which the Arabians made in algebra ; but it is said, 
 that, in the Leyden iiljrary, there is an Arabian manu- 
 script, entitled, 'I'lic Jlli^ebra of Cubic K(jvati'j7is or the 
 Solution of solid I'roblew^. If this be true, they must 
 
 have gone fartlier than IJiopliautus, wlio does not ap- 
 pear to have advanced beyond equations of the second 
 degree. 
 
 6. From the East, algeljra was first brought into Italy 
 by one Leonard, a rich merchant of Pisa, who taught it 
 to his countrymen about the beginning of the thirteenth 
 century. Mr Cossali, a canon of Parma, has of late years 
 discovered and quoted a manuscript by Leonard, which 
 is dated 1202, and which was enlarged, and re-written in 
 1228. It appears from tliis, that he was very skdful in 
 algebra, particularly in problems of the kind treated by 
 Uiophanlus ; and the extract which Mr Cossali has given, 
 shows, that the author had proceeded as far as the re- 
 solution of cubic equations, and those of higher powers 
 capable of being reduced to the seconder tliird degree. 
 
 7. The first printed treatise on algebra was given to 
 the world by Lucas Pacciolus, or Lucas de Borgo, a 
 Franciscan monk, in a work published in 1494, entitled, 
 Szi/nnia de .iri//iinctica, Gconwtrica, Pro/io/'tio7ii, et Pro- 
 port ionali In. At this time, the analytical works of Leo- 
 nard of Pisa, which have always remained in manuscript, 
 must have been absolutely unknown, even in Italy ; for 
 Lucas de Borgo's work, which may be considered as 
 exhibiting the stale of the science at that period, is con- 
 fined to the complete resolution of equations of the first 
 and second order. It also appears, that, at this period, 
 only the positive roots were used, and only one unknown 
 quantity ; and that there were no marks or signs for 
 either quantities or operations, exceptiog a few abbre- 
 viations of the words, or names, themselves ; and lastly, 
 that the art was only employed in resolving certain nu- 
 meral problems. 
 
 8. About the year 1505, Scipio Ferrcus, a professor 
 of mathematics at Bologna, found a rule for resolving 
 one case of cubic equations. But he kept his discovery 
 secret, according to the custom of that age, with a view 
 to perplex his rivals, by proposing to them hard ques- 
 tions, which, from their ignorance of his rule, they could 
 not resolve. 
 
 9. About the year 1533, the same rule, as also the 
 rules for other cases, were discovered by Nicolas Tar- 
 taglia, or Tartalea, of Brescia, who, in the year 1539, 
 communicated them, but without their demonstrations, 
 to Hieronymus Cardan of Bononia, at his earnest re- 
 quest, and under the strictest injunctions, and even an 
 oath of secrecy. Notwithstanding this promise, Cardan, 
 having by his own exertions and those of Ids disciple 
 Lewis Ferrari, discovered their demonstrations, and 
 also greatly extended and improved them, he published 
 them to the world, in his book De Arte Magna., which 
 came out in the year 1545; a work which, besides a 
 very full and complete treatise on cubic equations, con- 
 tains many other in>provcn\ci!t5 and discoveries in the 
 
 science, and, in particular, a rule, investigated by Lewis 
 Ferrari, for resolving equations of the fourth order. 
 
 Tartalea also prhited, in 1550, a work on arithmetic, 
 geometry, and algebra; but this last subject is carried 
 no farther than (piadratic equations, owing to the death 
 of the author, which happened before it was completed. 
 
 10. (3ur limits permit us to mention only such writers 
 as have contributed essentially to the progress of alge- 
 bra; and of this number was Vieta, a French mathema- 
 tician, who wrote about the year 1600. The improve- 
 ments he made in the science vifere numerous and great. 
 He was the first who introduced the use of symbols to 
 denote, not only the unknown, but also the known quan- 
 tities; thus giving to algebra that degree of generality, 
 which constitutes its chief excellence: he showed also 
 how to transform equations into others, so as to prepare 
 them for resolution; he gave new and ingenious resolu- 
 tions of equations of the third and fourth order; he 
 showed how the roots of certain equations might be ex- 
 hibited by means of a section of an angle, which, how- 
 ever, had been before adverted to by Bembeili, an Ita- 
 lian mathematician ; but his chief improvement was, the 
 method he gave for approximating to the roots of equa- 
 tions of all orders. 
 
 1 1. The next great improver of algebra was our coun- 
 tryman Harriot, who probably wrote about 1610, but 
 whose works did not appear till 1631, ten years after his 
 death. To him we are indebted for the important dis- 
 covery, that every equation whatever, is the product of 
 as many simple equations, or factors, as there are units 
 in the number expressing its ^degree ; a theorem ex- 
 tremely fertile in consequences, and the foundation of 
 sonre of the most extensive theories in mathematics. 
 
 12. The celebrated philosopher Descartes also made 
 several improvements in the science. Jn particular, he 
 was the first who clearly explained the nature of the 
 negative roots of an equation ; and he found a rule lor 
 determining, in the case of equations having all their 
 roots real, how many of these were positive, and how- 
 many negative. He also showed the use which might 
 be made of the assumption of indeterminate quantities, 
 which had been but oljscurely indicated by Vieta. But 
 the greatest improvement he made, was his applying 
 algebra to the geometry of curve lines ; for, by this union 
 of the sciences of algebra and geometry, the form of the 
 latter has been completely changed, and the most im- 
 portant discoveries made in it. The writings of Des- 
 cartes on algebra are contained in his Geometrica, pub- 
 lished for the first time in 163"; but to the later editions 
 are added, a commentary by Schooten, and notes by 
 Beaune, as well as other tracts. 
 
 13. Next to Descartes, we may mention Fermat, his 
 contemporary and rival in the career of discovery; for 
 this excellent mathematician had treated of the applica- 
 tion of algebra to the theory of curve lines, before Des- 
 cartcs's Geometry appeared. He was also deeply learned 
 in the class of problems treated by Diophantus ; and the 
 best edition of the works of the celebrated ancient, is 
 that which is enriched with Fermat's notes. 
 
 14. From this period, the writers on algebra became 
 too numerous to be all noticed in the short sketch, to 
 which we must confine ourselves. Suffice it to say, that 
 almost every one of that constellation of mathematicians, 
 which adorned the seventeenth and beginning of the 
 eighteenth centuries, contributed more or less to its 
 improvement; as Schooten, IIuygcns,Slusius,Mercator,
 
 ALGEBRA, 
 
 4U1 
 
 Leibnitz', and niany other foreign mathematicians ; and, 
 in Britain, we may reckon Wallis, Gregory, Brounckcr, 
 Barrow, Halley, Cotes, Raphson, Demoivre, and parti- 
 cularly Newton, who furnished the science with one of 
 its most powerful instruments of analysis, namely, his 
 binomial theorem. At a later period, we have to reckon 
 among its improvers, Taylor, Nicole, Maclaurin, Clai- 
 r»ut, Euler, [Waring, Maseres,] Lagrange, Legendre, 
 Laplace, Sec. 
 
 15. The treatises on algebra which have appeared are 
 innumerable. The following, however, may be reckon- 
 ed as belonging to the best class : — Newton's Arilhmctka 
 Universalis ; Sanderson's Algebra; Clah"uit's JUemeria 
 d'Mgcbre ; Maclaurin's Algebra; Simpson's Algebra; 
 Euler's Elements of Algebra, (an English translation); 
 [Hale's Analysis jEquationum ;] La Croix's Elemens 
 d'Algcbre ; L'Huillier's Elemens Raisonnes d'Algebre ; 
 Wood's Algebra. 
 
 16. The rules of arithmetic being continually wanted 
 in the application of algebra, in treating of the latter we 
 must necessarily suppose the reader acquainted with the 
 principles of the former, as far as relates to the method 
 of notation, the rules of addition, subtraction, multipli- 
 cation, and division, and the theories of vulgar and deci- 
 mal fractions ; all vvl«ch he will find explained in the 
 article Arithmetic. With this preliminary knowledge 
 he may read whatever is delivered in the foilowing trea- 
 tise relating to pure algebra, or to its applications to 
 numbers; — but to understand that part which treats of 
 its application to geometry, it is equally necessary that 
 he be acquainted with the elements of that science. 
 
 n. Although a knowledge of geometry be required, 
 in order to be able to understand the nature of those 
 applications which are made of algebra to that science, 
 yet it must be observed, that the principles of algebra 
 are independent of geometry, and may be explained 
 without any reference to it; as, on the other hand, the 
 principles of geometry are equally independent of alge- 
 bra. The notation and mode of reasoning, however, 
 employed in algebra, may sometimes be employed with 
 advantage in geometry; and of this circumstance we 
 shall avail ourselves when we come to treat of that 
 science. 
 
 Dejinitions and Frincifiles. 
 
 18. In arithmetic there are ten characters, which, be- 
 ing variously combined, according to certain determi- 
 nate rules, serve to express all known numbers what- 
 ever: — and as the characters themselves, as well as the 
 rules by which they are combined, are conventional, the 
 same number is always expressed by the same charac- 
 ter, or combination of characters. In like manner in 
 algebra, all quantities whatever are also denoted by cha- 
 racters or symbols ; but here the characters are altoge- 
 ther arbitrary, and instead of being employed to denote 
 only known quantities, as in arithmetic, they are alike 
 employed to denote the given or known quantities in 
 any question, and the quantities which are required, or 
 unknown. In some cases the known quantities will be 
 most conveniently expressed by the common numeral 
 characters, as in arithmetic ; but in others, it will be 
 better to represent both the known and unknown quan- 
 tities by other symbols. The letters of the alphabet are 
 usually employed for this purpose; those at the begin- 
 ning, viz. c, b, c. Sec. being put for known quantities, 
 
 Vol. I. Part. II. 
 
 and those at the end, viz. r, y, x, Sec. for such as arc 
 unknown. 
 
 19. There are also certain aibitrary signs employed 
 to express the relations of (juaniitics to one another, and 
 the operations which may be performed on them. 
 
 The relation of equality is represented by the sign 
 =5, which means C(/ual. Thus a=a6 signifies that the 
 quantity represented by the symbol a is equal to another 
 quantity represented by the symbol b : Or, to speak 
 more concisely, the quantity a is equal to the quantity b. 
 
 20. The two signs, "^^ and ^^ , are employed to dc» 
 note inequality. Thus, fi-p^d signifies that the ([uantity 
 a is greater than the quantity b; and n.«iCi signifies that 
 the quantity a is less than the quantity b. 
 
 21. The sum of two or more quantities is expressed 
 by writing the quantities, one after another, with the 
 sign -{- (which is read /;/;;«,) interposed between them. 
 Thus, 5 + '' means the sum of 3 and 7, or 10: Also, «-f /) 
 means the sum of the quantities a and b ; and c-f-rf-f:/\ 
 means the sum of the quantities r, (/, and /. 
 
 22. The difference between two quantities is expres- 
 sed by writing the quantity to be subtracted after the 
 other, with the sign — (which is read minus,^ between- 
 them. Thus, 8 — 5 means the difference between 8 and 
 5, or 3. Also, a — b denotes the excess of the ejuantity 
 a above the quantity b. 
 
 23. If several quantities are to be added, and others 
 to be subtracted from the sum, the quantities may be 
 written one after another in any order, observing to pre- 
 fix the sign -f- to such as are to be added, and the sign 
 — to those to be subtracted. If, for example, the num- 
 bers 5 and 8 are to be added together, and the number 
 5 subtracted from the sum, these operations may be in- 
 dicated thus, -f5 + 8 — 3; or tlius, +5 — 3-f-8; or thus, 
 — 3-|-5-|-8. If, however, the quantity which stands first 
 is one of those to be added, it is usual to omit its sign ; 
 Thus, 5-f 8 — 3 means the same thing as -f 5-|-8 — 3. So, 
 in like manner, -{-a — A-f-r — rf, (which signifies that the 
 quantites b and d are to be subtracted from the sum of 
 a and r,) may be also written simply thus, a — b+c — d; 
 or thus, f-f a — b — d; or thus, — b-{-a-[-c — d. 
 
 24. The signs -J- and — , besides serving to denote 
 that the operations of addition and subtraction are to be 
 performed on quantities, may also be considered as ex- 
 pressing the state or condition in which the quantities, 
 represented by the symbols to which they are prefixed, 
 exist in respect of each other. To illustrate this, let us 
 consider some determinate species of quantity, for ex- 
 ample, a man's property, or what he is worth; and 
 which is to be estimated by taking into account the ef- 
 fects in his possession, and the debts duo to him on the 
 one hand ; and on the other, the debts which he owes. 
 Now, whether we conceive him as entitled to receive 
 100/. from another person, or as incurring a debt to the 
 amount of 100/., in either case the change in the state 
 of his property is the same as to quantity, and is ex- 
 pressed by the same symbol, namely, 100; but the 
 nature or kind of change in the one case is just the re- 
 verse of what it is in the other, seeing that, in the for- 
 mer, it serves to increase his property, but, in the latter, 
 to diminish it. Let a denote the number of pounds the 
 person is worth before this change ; then, in conformity" 
 to the notation explained in last article, in the event of 
 his being entitled to receive 100/., his property isa-f-100; 
 but, on the contrary, if he h&s.incurred a debt of 100/., 
 it is a — 100. Now, as these expressions, for the two 
 states of his property, differ from each other only in the 
 
 3 E
 
 402 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 sign prefixed to the number denoting llio magnitude of 
 Ihu change, it being in the one case + {/ilus), and in the 
 other \iiniius), we may consider these signs as indica- 
 ting the nature ol the cUange itsell, in either case, and 
 »ay, that in the former it is -f 100, hut in the latter it is 
 
 100. Again, let us suppose tnat a man's eBects arc 
 
 worth lOul., but that lie also owes 100/.; tlien because 
 of the ecjualily ol tnese two sums, we may hlly express 
 Ids absolute worth by the cliaracter 0, or nothing. Let 
 us next suppose, that, instead of owing lou/., he only 
 owes 60/., tlien, because Ins effects exceed his debts by 
 40/., in estimating his worth, we may employ the num- 
 ber 40 to denote iis quantity, and prefix the sign +, 
 making it -|-40, to indicate the nature of that excess, or 
 that it will increase any property he may afterwaras ac- 
 quire. If, however, on the otlier hanu, he hau owed 
 140/., then, as the difference bciween his effects and 
 debts are in this case the same as betore, in expressing 
 nuineiicaliy the state of his affairs, we may employ the 
 same characters, viz. 40, as betore, but prelix the aign 
 
 thus, — 40, thereby indicating that this difference is 
 
 ot such a nature as to dimmish tne properly he may in 
 future acquire; an effect just the reverse of that pro- 
 duced in the olher case. 
 
 25. There are various other kinds of quantity to 
 which the same mode of illusuation will equally apply. 
 Thus, if a star be elevated 10 degrees above the hori- 
 zon, we may indicate its position, in respect of the hori- 
 zon, by -J- 10° ; and, on the contrary, if it be depressed 
 12 decrees below it, we may say that its distance from 
 the horizon is — 12°. Similar remarks may be made re- 
 garding the latitude of a place on the globe, which may 
 be either north or south, in respect of the equator ; or 
 its longitude, which may be east or west, in respect of 
 some determinate meridian. 
 
 26. A quantity, having the sign + {/ilus) either pre- 
 fixed to it, or understood to be prefixed, with a view to 
 indicate its nature in respect to some other quantity, (as 
 expluiiied in the two last §§), is said to be /lositive ; but it 
 is said to be negative if it has the sign — {inmus.) Thus, 
 in estimating a man's property, the debts due to him may 
 be considered as positive quant ties, but the debts he 
 owes, as negative quantities. Also, a force acting in 
 some determinate direction being considered as positive, 
 a force acting in the contrary direction may be reckon- 
 ed negative ; and so of other quantities. It is however, 
 if not absolutely necessary, at least often convenient, to 
 apply the terms /losinve and negative to abstract num- 
 bers, or symbols, without immediately considering the 
 particular nature of the quantities which these symbols 
 represent. Thus, in a complex expression of calcula- 
 tion, such as a -f b — c — d, the quantities b and a, having 
 tlie one the sign -f prefixed to it, and the other the 
 same sign understood, may be regarded as positive ; 
 while the quantities c and rf, having both the sign — be- 
 fore them, may be considered as negative. 
 
 27. A number prefixed to a letter is called its co- 
 efficient, and shows how often the quantity represented 
 by the letter is to be taken. Thus 2fi means, that the 
 quantity a is to be taken twice ; 3a, that it is to be taken 
 thrice, and soon. If there be no number prefixed to the 
 letter, the coefficient is understood to be unity ; thus the 
 coefficient of n is 1. 
 
 28, Tlic jiroduct of two or more quantities is some- 
 times expressed by placing the sign X between them. 
 Thus, 3X5 means the product of 3 and 5, or 15 ; also 
 « X 6 means the product of a by b. If^ however, the 
 
 quantities to be multiplied arc expressed by letters, theii 
 product is indicated by joining them together like a 
 word ; thus ab means the product of the quantities a and 
 b ; and cde means the product of c, d, and e. 
 
 2y. The quotient arising from the division of one 
 quantity by another is sometimes denoted by placing Uie 
 sign -j- between the dividend (which stands firstj and 
 the divisor. Thus, a -i- b means that a is divided bjfc A; 
 also, (f -f- d) -j- (l — f) means, that the sum of c and d 
 is divided by the difference between e and/". It is, how- 
 ever, more common to express the quotient in the form 
 
 of a 
 c + d 
 
 fraction, thus-r-means the same as n -4- 6 ; and 
 
 means the same as (c -f- rf) -i- (e — /). 
 
 30. Quantities denoted by the same letter or letter*, 
 and which differ from each other only in their coeffi- 
 cients and signs, are said to be like, or similar. Thus, 
 3 a antl 5 a are like quantities : so also are 7 ab and — 1 1 
 ab. But quantities expressed by different letters are 
 said to be unlike ; thus a and 6, also cd and ef, are un- 
 like quantities. 
 
 31. A complex quantity is said to consist of as many 
 terms as it has parts joined by the signs -J- and — . If 
 it consist of one term only, as a, it is sometimes called 
 a inunoinidl ; if it consist of two, as a -f A, it is called a 
 binomial ; if it have three, as a -f6-j- r, it is called a 
 ti-inomial ; and if it consist of many terms, as a — b -}- c — d 
 -}- ,-, &c. it is called a inidtinomial, or ■a. pobjnomial. Al- 
 so, a quantity is said to be simfile., if it consist of only 
 one term ; but compoimd, ii' it consist of two or more 
 terms. 
 
 The remaining characters employed, and terms of the 
 science, will be explained as they occur. 
 
 Sect. I. Fundamental Ofierations. 
 
 32. The fundamental operations of algebra, like those 
 of arithmetic, are, addition, subtraction, multiplication, 
 and division. We begin with the first of these, namely, 
 addition. 
 
 Of Addition. 
 
 33. When the quantities to be added are represented 
 by different letters, and have no assigned relations to 
 each other, then, in conformity to the notation laid down 
 in ^ 21, their sum will be expressed by writing the 
 quantities, one after another, with the sign -)- between 
 them. Thus, the sum of the quantities a, b, 3f, and 5rf, 
 will be a + A -|- 3f -f- srf. But tliis is evidently nothing 
 more than an application of the rules of notation. 
 
 If the quantities to be added are like, (§ £0.) as, for 
 example, a, 5a, 5a, and 8a, then their sum will evidently 
 be expressed by prefixing the sum of their co-efficients 
 to the common letter or letters. Thus the sum of the 
 foregoing quantities is 17a. 
 
 If the quantities, besides being like, are also of such 
 a nature as to admit of being considered as positive or 
 negative, (§ 26.) then, in estimating their sum, we must 
 also take into account the sign that ought to be pre- 
 fixed to it. Suppose it is required to find the sum of 
 -\- a, -\- 3a, and -|- 7a, where the sign -f denotes, that 
 the quantities have the nature of an increment, then, as 
 their sum will also be an increment, it will evidently be 
 -f 11a. 
 
 Again, suppose the sum of — 3b, — ib, and— lOi, is 
 sought, where the sign — indicates, that the quantities
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 'iOJ 
 
 ate decrements, UicH, their sum bcinij also a decrement, 
 must necessarily be — 176. 
 
 34. Hence it appears, that, to add together like quan- 
 tities with like signs, we must add together the coeffi- 
 cients, and prefix the common sign to the sum, and annex 
 the common letter or letters. 
 
 S5. If it be required to add together like quantities, 
 which are partly positive and partly negative, that is, 
 which may be regarded partly as increments and partly 
 as decrements, (§ 26.) as, for example, + 8a, + 5a, — 3«, 
 and — a, we may, in the first place, collect all the incre- 
 ments into one sum, and all the decrements into ano- 
 ther ; thus we shall reduce the whole to two quantities, 
 namely -}- 1 3o, and — 4a. We must nest find the sum of 
 -f- 13a, and — 4(7, or, in other words, we must find what 
 change will take place upon any proposed quantity, 
 if it receive an increment of 13a, and at the same time 
 be diminished by 4a : now the result will evidently 
 be the same as if the quantity had only been increa- 
 sed by 9a, that is, hy the difference between 13a and 4a. 
 
 36. Hence we may conclude, that to add like quan- 
 tities with unlike signs, we much add the positive coeffi- 
 cients, if there be several, into one sum, and the nega- 
 tive ones into another; we must next subtract the lesser 
 sum from the greater, and then prefix the sign of the 
 greater to the remainder, and annex the common letter 
 or letters. 
 
 37. From what has been just shewn, it will appear, 
 that the term addition is taken in a more extensive 
 sense in algebra than in arithmetic ; and that it is an- 
 alogous to the balance which is struck when a mer- 
 chant makes up a state of his affairs ; an operation in 
 which he collects his effects and the debts owing to him 
 into one sum, and the debts he owes to others into ano- 
 ther, and takes their difference, as the amount of his 
 property, if the former exceed the latter ; or as what he 
 is behind hand, if the latter exceed the former. 
 
 38. We shall now add a few examples to shew the 
 application of these rules : 
 
 £jc: I. Required the sum of x., Sjc, and 7x. 
 
 Here the quantities are like, and have like signs ; 
 therefore, by § 34, the coefficient of the sum is 1 -)- 3 -|- 
 7 := 1 1, and the sum itself is 1 l.r. 
 
 £x. 2. Required the sum of — 5b, — 3b, — 104 and 
 — 206. 
 
 Here also the quantities are like, and have like signs : 
 therefore the coefficient of the sum is 5 + 3 -f 10 -f 20 
 = 38, and sum itself— 386. 
 
 £jc:. 3. Required the sum of 14a, 5a, — a, and — 12a. 
 
 Here the quantities are like, but have unlike signs ; 
 therefore, by § 56, we find the sum of the positive coeffi- 
 cients = 19, and the sum of the negative coefficients = 
 13, wliich being less than the former, the answer is a 
 positive quantity. Now the difference of these sums 
 is 6 ; therefore, prefixing the sign -|- to this number, and 
 joining the common letter, we have -f 6a, or simply 6a 
 for the answer. 
 
 £x. 4. Required the sum of 3a6. 5nb, and — 10a6. 
 
 Here 8, the amount of the positive coefficient, is less 
 hy 2 than 10, the negative coefficient ; therefore the an- 
 swer is — 2ab. 
 
 Ex. 5. Required the sum of these compound quantities, 
 
 4 -I- 6 J- — 3i/ — 8r 
 Txj — 8-f5.r-f9r. 
 lljr+3!/+17— ^ 
 
 In this example, before we proceed lo fnid the suni, 
 it will be proper to arrange the <|uaniities anew, so thai 
 like terms may sl;ind under each other,thus, 
 
 4-f6j" — 3y — 8z 
 
 — 8-i-5.r-|-7!/-f9z 
 
 17-Fll,r+Jt/— z 
 
 The sum is 
 
 l3-|-22a--|-7!/ 
 
 Here, the terms being so arranged that like quantities' 
 are found in the same vertical coluum, we find the sums 
 of each by the application of the foregoing rules, prefix- 
 ing to the result their proper signs. And as the amount 
 of the negative terms containing z is exactly equal to. 
 the positive term, the two kinds of terms destroy each 
 other; and thus z is not found in the final expression for 
 the suin. 
 
 39. Although it be a matter of indifference in what 
 order the tern)s of a compound expression are placed, 
 provided each have its proper sign, yet, for the sake of 
 uniform arrangement, it may be convenient to place 
 them so that the letters may stand in the order of the 
 alphabet. 
 
 Of Subtraction. 
 
 40. As addition shews how the sum of two quantities 
 may be found when each of them is given, so, on the 
 contrary, subtraction teaches how, from the sum being 
 given, and also one of the quantities, the other may be 
 found. Now, according lo the extended sense in which 
 the term additiuJi is understood in algebra, a sum may 
 be formed by the union of quantities which are indif- 
 ferently positive, or negative ; therefore, also in subtrac- 
 tion the quantity to be subtracted may be positive, or it 
 may be negative. 
 
 41. Let a denote any quantity whatever, positive or 
 negative; also let /;,or-f /;, denote a positive quantity, 
 and — 9 a negative quantity. Then, because the quan- 
 tity a may be considered as the sum of these two quan- 
 tities + fia.nda — fi, and because that if from the sum 
 of two quantities one of them be subtracted, the other 
 quantity is the remainder, it follows, that if from a, 
 the quantity -\-fi be subtracted, the remamder is a — /;. 
 
 Again, because a may be also considered as the sum 
 of these two quantities, — (/ and a -|- y, it follows, that 
 if from a we subtract — y, the remainder is necessarily 
 a + (/. 
 
 Since the quantity a ■— /i, which we have just now 
 shewn to be the proper expression for the excess of the 
 quantity a above the qviantity -f- fi, is also, from the na- 
 ture of addition, the expression for the sum of the quan- 
 tities a and — /; ; and since -f /) may be regarded as an 
 increment, and — /; as a decrement, it follows, that to 
 subtract an increment from any quantity is the same 
 thing in effect as to add an equal decrement. And since 
 a -^- (/, which has been shewn to be the expression for 
 the excess of the quantity a above the quantity — g, is 
 also the expression for the sum of a and -j- y, we may 
 hence infer, that to subtract a decrement from any quan- 
 tity is the same thing as to add an equal increment. 
 Hence we derive the following general rule for sub- 
 traction. 
 
 42. Change the signs of the terms of the quantity to 
 be subtracted into the contrary signs, or conceive them 
 to be so changed ; then add the quantity, having its 
 signs thus changed, to the other quantity from which it 
 was to be subtracted, by the rules for addition. 
 
 3E 2
 
 404 
 
 VLGEBEA. 
 
 From 
 Subtract 
 
 I'rom 
 Subtract 
 
 Jixamjile \. 
 -i-7a} or, cliunging the } To 7a 
 -f4«$ sign of 4a, 5 ^dd — 4a 
 
 Tlie remainder is -f 3o 
 
 — lOx? 
 
 £x. 2. 
 or, changing 
 tlic sign, 
 
 ;To — lOx 
 ;Add +12jr 
 
 The remainder is 
 
 2x 
 
 In these two examples wc have actually changed the 
 sign of the quantity to be subtracted ; in the following, 
 we shall suppose the reader to change the signs men- 
 tally, as he goes along. 
 
 Ex. 3. 
 From -j- Sab 
 Subtract — ab 
 
 Ex. 4. 
 From — Tax 
 Subtract + 2ax 
 
 Remainder -f- 9ab Remainder — lOax 
 
 Ex. 5. Ex. 6, 
 From a + b From 1 2.r — 3y + 5: — 7 
 Subtract a — b Subtract 5jr + 4!/+5r+4 
 
 Reniaindev 25 Remain. 7x — 7y — 11 
 
 Of Muld/ilicatirjn. 
 
 43. The term multiplication has the same meaning in 
 algebra as in arithmetic ; it signifies that the multipli- 
 cand, or quantity to be multiplied, is to be taken a cer- 
 tain number of times, or as often as unity is contained in 
 the multiplier ; so that while the former may be a quan- 
 tity of any kind whatever, the latter can only be an ab- 
 stract number. In algebra, however, as the quantities to 
 be multiplied may be cither positive or negative, the 
 products will in some cases be positive, and in others 
 negative. 
 
 44. As a positive quantity taken any number of times 
 is a positive quantity, and a negative quantity taken any 
 number of times is a negative quantity ; therefore, put- 
 ting n for any number, the product arising from the mul- 
 tiplication of any poiilive quantity a (that is -f- a,) by ;;, 
 and which, by the notation laid down in § 28., is na, must 
 be considered as having the sign -f, or must be a posi- 
 tive quantity. Also, the product arising from the mul- 
 tiplication of — b, any negative quantity by ?;, must be 
 — nb, a negative quantity. 
 
 45. When the multiplicand, as well as the multiplier, 
 is regarded merely as a number, then, like as the pro- 
 duct of o multiplied by 5 is equal to the product of 5 
 multiplied by 3, so, in general, the product of any num- 
 ber o, multiplied by any other number n, is equal to the 
 product of 71 multiplied by a ; and maybe expressed in- 
 differently by 7ia or a?i. 
 
 46. When the quantities to be multiplied are them- 
 selves products ; as if it be required to multiply ab by 
 rcl, then, proceeding according to the principles of mul- 
 tiplication in arithmetic, the product of the quantities is 
 found by takuig the continual product of all their factors : 
 so that, as the product of 8=2x4, and 15=3X5, is 
 identical with that obtained by imiltiplying any one of the 
 factors 2, 4, 3, 5, by all the others, taken in any order, in 
 like manner, the product of ab by cd will be abed, or 
 bacd or chad, kc. the letters being placed in any order 
 whatever. 
 
 47 Hence it appears, that if the quantities to be ratil- 
 tiplicd have numeral coefficients, we may take their pro- 
 duct and prefix it as a coefficient to the remaining part 
 of the expression for the product required. Tlius the 
 product of 6a and Sn will be 30an. 
 
 48. When a product is formed by the multiplication 
 of any quantity, as a, by itself, although it may be ex- 
 pressed thus, ua, yet, for the sake of brevity, it is more 
 conmion to write it tlius, a'^, where the number 2 indi- 
 cates how often the factor a occurs in the product. So, 
 in like manner, instead of aaa, which denotes a product 
 formed by multiplying the quantity a by itself twice, it 
 is belter to write a' ; and instead of aaaa, to write a*, 
 and so on. 
 
 Agreeably to this notation, the product aoodAc, will be 
 otherwise written thus, a^b^c ; and the product Saxxyz 
 will be written thus, Sax'^yz. 
 
 49. The number which is thus placed to the right of 
 a quantity, and a little above it, to indicate how often it 
 enters as a factor in a product, is called its index or ex-- 
 jionent. In the expression Ta'^b^c, which is equivalent 
 to Taabbbc, the index or exponent of a is 2, that of b is 
 3 ; and although c has no figure placed over it, yet its 
 exponent is understood to be unity, or 1, and it might be 
 written thus, c'. The cxfionent of a quantity must be 
 carefully distinguished from its corjjicitnt ; for, by at- 
 tending to the definitions of these terms, it will imme- 
 diately appear that 2a and a^ mean very different 
 things. 
 
 50. A product, formed by the repeated multiplication 
 of any quantity by itself, is called a /iowfr of that quan- 
 tity. Thus aa, or a-, is a power of a, and is called its 
 second power ; also aaa, orc^, is called its third power ; 
 and so on. The quantity a itself is considered as having 
 unity for its exponent, and is therefore called the first 
 power of a. 
 
 51. Because a'^ is just another expression for aa,and a~' 
 for aaa, therefore the product of a^ and a^ is equivalent 
 to the product of aa and aaa ; that is, to aaaaa, which is 
 otherwise more briefly expre«sed by a'. In general, the 
 product of any two powers of the same quantity, is ex- 
 pressed by that power of the quantity which has for its 
 exponent the sum of the exponents of the powers to be 
 multiplied. 
 
 52. Let the product arising from the multiplication of 
 a compound quantity a + b, by a number «, be required. 
 Then, because a-\-b, taken twice, is2a-j-2ii, and, taken 
 thrice, is 3a+3A, therefore, in general, a-{-b taken n 
 times, is na-\-Hb. That is, 
 
 if (7-f-6 
 be multiplied by n 
 
 The product is na-\-nb 
 
 In the very same way it will appear, that 
 if a—b 
 be multiplied by n 
 
 The product is na — nb. 
 
 53. Let us next suppose, that the multiplier consists 
 of two terms, and that it is required to multiply a + i by 
 n+fi. To effect this, we must consider that to multiply 
 a-\-b by -"-{.fi means, that the compound quantity a-\-b is 
 to be taken as often as ri-\-fi contains unity; but the 
 number of times that n-f/? contains unity is equal to 
 the mtmber of times that n contains unity, added to the
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 405 
 
 number of times/! contains unity : therefore, to multi- 
 ply a-f"* Ijy «+/'i we must take tz-f i first n limes, aiul 
 then /i times, and add the two products tos^ethcr. Now, 
 a+b taken n times is wn-f""* (last §.) and taken/; times, 
 is /ia-\-/i/), and the sum of these is na-\-nb-\-{ui-\-']ib ; 
 therefore 
 
 if a+b 
 be multiplied by n-\-fi 
 
 RxamfUc 1. 
 
 Multiply (fi — Mib -f 4Aa 
 by lab 
 
 The product is na-\-nb-\-pa+Jib. 
 
 54. Next, let it be proposed to multiply a — b by 7i — ji. 
 Then, because the number of times that n — /i contains 
 unity is evidently equal to the number of times that n 
 contains unity, diminished by the number of times ft con- 
 tains unity, we must take a — b first « times, and then/z 
 times, and subtract the latter product from the former. 
 Now, (§ 52.) a — b taken n times, is na — nb ; and taken/i 
 times, is Jia — fib ; the latter of these being subtracted 
 from" the former, the remainder (§ 42.) is jia—nb — fia-\- 
 fxb. Therefore, 
 
 if a — b 
 be multiplied by n — fi 
 
 The 
 
 product is na — nb — fia-\-fib. 
 
 55. If we attend to the manner in which the last pro- 
 duct, na — nb — fia+fib, is formed from the two factors 
 a — b and n — fi, it Viill appear, 
 
 1st, That the product is made up of a scries of terms, 
 formed by multiplying all the terms of the multiplicand 
 by each term of the multiplier, one after another. And 
 the same observation may be made upon the three for- 
 mer examples. 
 
 2d, That the term a, which is understood to have the 
 sing +, being multiplied by the term n, which is also un- 
 derstood to have the sign -j-, the product is na, which is 
 understood to have the sign -f . 
 
 3d, That the term — b, which has the sign — , being 
 multiplied by n, which is understood to have the sign 
 -f , the product is — nb, which has the sign — . 
 
 4th, The term a, which is understood to have the sign 
 -f-, being multiplied by — ft, which has the sign, — , 
 the product is — fta, which has also the sign — . 
 
 5th, Lastly, the term — b, which has the sign — , 
 being multiplied by — fi, which has also the sign — , the 
 product is +fib, which has the sign -}-. 
 
 56. From these observations we derive the following 
 general rule for multiplication, when either one or both 
 ihe factors are compound quantities. 
 
 Multiply successively all the terms of the multiplicand 
 by each term of the multiplier, observing, that if the 
 signs of any two terms be either both +, or both — , 
 then the sign of their product is +; but if the one be 
 -f, and the other — , then the sign of their product is — . 
 And these products collected into one sum will be the 
 product required. 
 
 57. In finding the successive products of the terms 
 by the foregoing rules, we may begin with any term. 
 It is usual, however, to begin at the left hand, and mul- 
 tiply from left to right, which is contrary to the way of 
 multiplying numbers. 
 
 We have already given examples of the multiplication 
 of simple quantities, and powers ; we shall now give a 
 few examples, h\ which the factors are compound. 
 
 Product 
 
 Multiply 
 by 
 
 .2(z3i— 6a»/;2-f8a6i 
 Kx aw file 2. 
 
 .r- — a 
 
 
 x^+ax 
 — ax— -a 2 
 
 Multiply 
 by 
 
 x2 —a- 
 
 Examfile 3. 
 c2-f-2a6-f6* 
 a —3b 
 
 
 «^-f 2a = 6+ ab- 
 — 3n^6 — 6ab^ — 3i>' 
 
 Product 
 
 Multiply 
 by 
 
 Examfile 4 
 a"-\-ab -f b^ 
 a —b 
 
 
 — a'^b — ab- — b> 
 
 Product^ "! ••• ° - ^ -*' 
 5 or a^ — b^ 
 
 58. Instead of actually multiplying compound quanti- 
 ties, it is often more convenient merely to mdicate, that 
 the operation is to l)e performed. Suppose that a^ + 
 3ab — .4 2 is to be multiplied by 2a — 3b; then, placing 
 each of the factors in a parenthesis, their product may 
 be expressed thus, (2« — 3b) X {a--{-3ab — b^); or thus 
 (2a_36) . {a'^+3ab—b^), or simply thus, (2a— 36) {a'- + 
 Zab — b'^); but some writers draw a line over each of the 
 factors, and place them thus, 2a — SAxa^-f 3a6 — b^. 
 
 Of Division. 
 
 59. In algebra, as in arithmetic, division is an opera- 
 tion in its nature the converse of multiplication, and its 
 object in both sciences is the same, namely, to find 
 either a certain proposed part of the dividend, or how 
 often the divisor is contained in the dividend. 
 
 60. Because the dividend is equal to the product of 
 the divisor and quotient, it will contain all the simple 
 factors of both the divisor and quotient, and no others ; 
 therefore, when the divisor and dividend consist each 
 of one term only, and all the letters, or factors of the 
 divisor are found also in the dividend, if we strike out 
 of the latter such factors as are common to both, those 
 which remain will be the expression for the quotient. 
 
 And, if the letters have exponents, we must subtract 
 the exponent of every letter in the divisor from the ex- 
 ponent of the same letter in the dividend, and the product 
 of.all the quantities, with their exponents thus diminish- 
 ed, will be the quotient sought. 
 
 £x. 1. It is required to divide dabcd, or Sx2abcd, by 
 2ab. 
 
 Here we strike 2ab out of the dividend, and the re- 
 maining part 3c(J is the quotient required. 
 
 Jix. 2. The quotient of a''6V2 by a-bc is required. 
 
 }lcrej proceeding according to the second part of the
 
 406 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 above I'ulc, we diminisli 4, the exponent of a in the 
 tliviilend, \iy 2, its exponent in the divisor, and thus 
 obtain a~ for one factor of the quotient. We, in like 
 manner, diminish 3, the exponent of b in the dividend, 
 by its exponent in the divisor, and 2, the exponent of 
 I in the dividend, by its exponent in the divisor, and 
 obtain b^ and c for the remaining factors of the quo- 
 tient. Tlierelure the complete expression for the quo- 
 tient is u-b-c. 
 
 61. It may happen, that a letter lias the same exponent 
 in botli divisor and dividend, as, for example, the quan- 
 tity may be a^ ; in this case, proceeding by the rule, 
 and subtracting one exponent from the other, we obtain 
 a° for one of the factors of the quotient. But, as any 
 quantity, divided by itself, gives unity for a quotient, 
 it is evident that a'^ is merely an algebraic symbol for 
 unity, and, as often as it occurs, we may substitute 
 iniity instead of it. Thus, in dividing irbc^, by a^bc'^, 
 instead of ub^c°, which is the quotient obtained by fol- 
 lowing strictly the rule, we may write a x I X 1, or 
 simply a. 
 
 62. The divisor being still supposed to consist of one 
 term, let the dividend be composed of several terms. 
 Then, since the quotient must be such a quanliiy, as by 
 multiplying all its terms, one after another, by ihe divi- 
 sor, sliall produce the dividend ; so, on the contrary, if 
 the terms of the dividend be divided one after another, 
 by the divisor, the results will be the successive terms 
 of the quotient. And as, if the divisor and any term of 
 the quotient have the same sign, the term of the divi- 
 dend, which is their product, will have the sign -f-, but 
 ii they have opposite signs, that term will have the sign 
 — ; so, on the contrary, if the divisor and any term of 
 the dividend have the same sign, the quotient, which 
 results from the division of one by the other, will have 
 the sign +, but if they have opposite signs, then it will 
 have the sign — . 
 
 Example. It is required to divide 2ci''b — ia'j^+\0b3 
 by 2 6. 
 
 In the first place, we divide 2a-/» by 26, and ob- 
 tain fi2 for the first term of the quotient; and this term 
 must be positive, because the quantities from which it 
 has been obtained are understood to have the same sign. 
 We next divide — iab^ by 26, and obtain — 2ab for the 
 second term, which is negative, because the signs of 
 the quantities 26 and — icib^ are unlike. And, lastly, 
 we divide + 1063 by 26, and as these quantities have 
 iike signs, there results -f 56^ for the third term of the 
 quotient. Thus the whole quotient is a' — 2ab-\-5b'^. 
 
 By the same mode of proceeding, if Sa^b — 2a'6^ 
 
 n2i.3 be divided by ab, the quotient will be found to be 
 3n3 — 2fi26 — o62. 
 
 63. We come now to consider how the quotient is to 
 be found, when the divisor and dividend are both com- 
 pound quantities ; and here it will be proper to attend 
 to the way in which a compound quantity is formed 
 from the product of two factors. Let us tlierefore as- 
 sume two factors 2a^ — Sab + 6^ and Sa^-f 2a6, then, the 
 operation, by which their product is found, will stand 
 thus : 
 
 Multiplicand 2,:^ — Sa6+6» 
 Multiplier 3a^+2ab 
 
 6a* — \Sa^+ 3a^b2 
 
 + 4a^b — 10o26'-f2a63 
 
 Heie the nuiltiplicand and multiplier being so arran- 
 ged, that the terms involving the highest power of a 
 stand first in each, and the tenns involving the iiext 
 highest in the second place, and so on, it appears, that 
 the terms of the product are also arranged according to 
 the powers of a ; and furtlier, that its first term, 6a*, is 
 the product of 2a2 and 5«^, the first terms of the multi- 
 plicand nmlliplier. 
 
 64. Hence we may conclude, that shice, in division, 
 the dividend is the product of the divisor and quotient, 
 if the dividend and divisor be both arranged according 
 to the powers of the same letter, and tlie first term of 
 the former be divided by the first term of the latter, the 
 result will be the first term of the quotient. 
 
 If therefore we assume the above product 6a* — lla^fi 
 — 7a2|52^2a63 for a dividend, and one of its factors 2a^— 
 5ab-j-b^ lor a divisor, then, dividing 6a*, the first term 
 of the former, by 2a'', the first term of the latter, we 
 obtain Sa^ for the first term of the quotient. 
 
 Now the dividend being, from the nature of multipli- 
 cation, the sum of the products formed by multiplying 
 the whole divisor by the tenns of the quotient, one after 
 another, if we subtract from the dividend the product 
 of the divisor, by the first of these terms, the remainder 
 must be the product of the divisor by the sum of the 
 remaining terms. If theiefore we consider this remain- 
 der as a second, or new dividend, the divisor being the 
 same as before, by an-anging their terms, as at first, and 
 dividing the first term of this new dividend, by the first 
 term of the divisor, we shall obtain, for the first term 
 of a new quotient, a quantity which will be the second 
 term of the general quotient. Thus, In the present ex- 
 ample, we multiply the divisor 2a^ — 5o6 + 6* by Sa^, the 
 first term of the quotient required, and subtract the pro- 
 duct 6n< — 15a3A-f5o262 from 6a* — Wa^b — 7a^b'-\-2ab\ 
 and the remainder 40^6 — \0a^b'^-{-2ab^ is the new divi- 
 dend. We now divide ia^b, the term containing the 
 highest power of a in this quantity, by 2a^, the first 
 term of the divisor, and get •j-2ab for the first term of 
 a new quotient, or for the second term of the quotient 
 required. 
 
 We may proceed in the operation, and find a third 
 term of the quotient in the same way as we found the 
 second, namely, by subtracting the product of the divi- 
 sor by the second term of the quotient from the second 
 dividend, and taking the remainder for a third dividend, 
 which, being arranged in respect to the powers of some 
 one of its letters, similarly to the divisor, its first term, 
 divided by the first term of the divisor, will give the 
 third teiTn of the quotient, and so on. 
 
 In the present example, the product of 2a6, the se- 
 cond term of the quotient, by 2a'' — 5a6+6", the divisor, 
 is 40^6 — 10a'62-|-2a63, a quantity identical with the se- 
 cond dividend, from which it is to be subtracted; there- 
 fore, there is no third dividend, and the complete quo- 
 tient is Sa^-\-2ab. The whole operation may stand thus- 
 
 Divisor. 
 
 Dividend. 
 
 Quotient. 
 
 2a'~5ab+b2')6a*—\\aH—7aU2+2ab^(3a2+2ab 
 6a* — I5a36+3a26' 
 
 Second dividend. 
 
 _f- 4q35 — \Qa'b^+2ab^ 
 4- 4a^b — I0a^b^+2abi 
 
 Product 
 
 6«* 
 
 .11036 — 7a262-f2a63 
 
 65. From these remarks, we deduce the following 
 general rule for division.
 
 ALGEBKA. 
 
 407 
 
 1. Let the terms of the divisor and dividend be ar- 
 ranged according to the powers of the same letter. 
 
 2. Diviilc the first term of the dividend by the first 
 term of the divisor, and take the result for the first ternl 
 of the quotient. 
 
 3. Multiply the whole divisor by the first term of the 
 quotient, and subtract the product from the dividend 
 and take the remainder as a new dividend. 
 
 4. Divide the first term ot this new dividend by the 
 first term of the divisor, and take the result for the se- 
 cond term of the quotient. 
 
 5. Multiply the whole divisor by the second term of 
 the quotient, and subtract the product from the new di- 
 vidend, and, if there be no remainder, the division is 
 finished ; but, if there be a remainder, it is to be taken 
 for a second new dividend. 
 
 In this manner the operation is to be continued, till 
 at last tliere be no remainder, or till it appear that there 
 will always be some remainder. 
 
 66. We shall now give a few examples to sho\7 the 
 manner of applying the rule : 
 
 Examfile 1. 
 
 Divisor. Dividend. Quotient. 
 
 a~-byi'^—1ab-\-b'^{a—b 
 a^-—ab 
 
 Kv. 
 
 Ex, S. 
 Divid. Quot. 
 
 jb + b^ 
 2b+b2 
 
 Ex. 2. 
 
 Divls. Div. Quot. 
 
 a+6>2— b2(«_,^ 
 
 '+ab 
 
 jb—b'' 
 
 ib—b"' 
 
 Ex, 3. 
 Divisor. Dividend. Quotient. 
 Ja— 4)2a3— 16(a24-2a+4 
 2a3 — 4a 2 
 
 -f4rt2_i5 
 -f4.a2 — 8a 
 
 -fSa— 16 
 +8a — 15 
 
 It is sometimes convenient, for the sake of room, to 
 write the divisor in the place usually assigned to the 
 quotient, and to write the quotient below it, as in the 
 next example. 
 
 Dividend. 
 a* —2a^b^ 
 
 a*+-^a3b+ a^b^ 
 
 Ex. 4. 
 
 Divisor. 
 
 + b* f n^-f 2«6-f 42 
 
 —2a^b—5a^b^ +b* 
 
 —2a^b — ia'^b^—lab^ 
 
 b* fa^-f 2«i 
 — (_a2 — 2(1 
 
 b + b"^ 
 Quotient. 
 
 3b' 
 
 a 4- 6 V >— a 6 + 4 2 (a— 2 4 H- — -r 
 
 -f a^b^+2abi-f-b'<' 
 + a^-b^+2ab3+b* 
 
 — 2ab+ 42 
 — 2ft 4 — 242 
 
 + 342 remainder. 
 If there is a remainder, as in this last example, it 
 may be made the numerator of a fraction, whose deno- 
 minator is the devisor, and annexed to the quotient, as 
 is done in arithmetic. 
 
 Sect. II. Of Fractions. 
 
 67. In arithmetic, a fraction is the expression for the 
 quotient arising from the division of one quantity by 
 another, when the latter is either greater than the for- 
 mer, or is not contauied in it an exact number of times. 
 Thus, according to the theory of fractions, as laid down 
 in arithmetic, -| is the expression for the quotient of 
 3 divided by 5, and is understood to denote, that an 
 unit being divided into 5 equal parts, 3 of these are 
 equivalent to the quotient. In like manner, -| is the ex- 
 pression for the quotient of 8 divided by 5, and means 
 that an unit is to be divided into five equal parts, and 8 
 such parts taken for that quotient. 
 
 68. Such quantities as we have just now described are 
 capable of being added, subtracted, multiplied, and di- 
 vided, as well as whole numbers; and the rules for these 
 operations may all be deduced from that view of a frac- 
 tional quantity, or quotient, which we have just now ta- 
 ken, namely, that -j, or 3 divided by 5, is equivalent to 
 the fifth part of an unit, taken 3 times; or that |, or 8 
 divided by 5, is equal to the fifth part of an unit taken 8 
 times. But as this mode of expressing a quotient ap- 
 plies to integer quotients, as well as to fractional ones, 
 for L2 that is, 12 divided by 4, or three, is evidently equi- 
 valent to the fourth part of an unit taken 12 times; 
 therefore the rules thence deduced must be alike ap- 
 plicable to all quotients whatever. 
 
 69. Thus, it appears that the theory of fractions is 
 the method of performing certain operations upon num- 
 bers considered as quotients, without regarding the par- 
 ticular numbers from which these quotients are derived; 
 and hence it follows, that the same terms, as well as the 
 rules, and modes of reasoning, which apply to numeral 
 fractions, may be applied also to such as are expressed 
 by the general symbols employed in algebra. 
 
 As often, therefore, as in any algebraic calculation, we 
 have occasion to divide any quantity a by another quantity 
 
 4, we may express the quotient thus, — , and ui the re- 
 mainder of the operation, proceed with the fraction 
 -- in all respects as if it were a fraction whose nume- 
 rator and denominator were known numbers. 
 
 70. As it is a fundamental principle in the theory of 
 fractions, that any fraction may be transformed into ano- 
 ther of equal value, by either multiplying, or dividing 
 botli its numerator and denominator by the same num- 
 ber, which may be any number whatever; therefore, as 
 often as a divisor and dividend have any common f:\ctor, 
 we may simplify the fraction, which is the expression 
 for the quotient, by taking such factors out of both it"^ 
 numerator and denominator.
 
 408 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 Thus, for example, the quotient of 5abdc, divided by 
 
 ... 1 , , /• ■ iabdf 
 
 Tacdf, which is expressed by the Iraction ,^77^. may bo 
 
 5/)e 
 
 Tacdf 
 
 abbreviated to ^^ by leaving out the factors a and <•/, 
 
 Sa/id 
 common to both numerator and denominator ; also,-- — 
 
 2«f 
 
 , . , , 4Ad , 2a(c-td) , , ., , 
 
 may be abridtrcd to ; and — j -r, may be abndced 
 
 c 6a(,c+yj 
 
 r + f/. 
 
 3(c+yo 
 
 71. Upon the same principle, if a letter with expo- 
 nents is found as a factor in both numerator and denomi- 
 nator, we may diminish the greater exponent by the 
 lesser, and reject the letter with the smaller exponent. 
 a'bc^ "■' . o.'^ 
 
 to 
 
 Thus, 
 
 a'^bh* 
 
 -, may be abridged to 
 
 also, — is 
 
 1 , f>a'^ + 9a^b 
 
 equivalent to — , and -— — , ,, „ , which may be other- 
 a IJw-f-ya^c 
 
 ._ ,— ,-36j. . a{'ia + U) 
 wise expressed by -—;r- fis equivalent to — ^^ . 
 
 ^ •' 3«2(4fi-f-oc) ^ 4a+3c 
 
 72. When the factors which are common to the nu- 
 merator and denominator consist each of one letter only, 
 as in the foregoing examples, they may be immediately 
 discovered by simple inspection. But if they have a 
 conunon factor, consisting of more than one term, to 
 discover it we must proceed, as in finding the greatest 
 common measure of two numbers, according to the fol- 
 lowing rule : 
 
 Arrange the quantities whose greatest common mea- 
 sure is required, according to the powers of the same 
 letter, as in division. 
 
 Divide the quantity which contains the highest power 
 of that letter by the other quantity ; then divide the 
 last divisor by the remainder, and proceed in this man- 
 ner, as in finding the greatest common measure of two 
 numbers, till there be no remainder, and the last divisor 
 is the greatest common measure required. 
 
 73. The demonstration of this rule depends upon the 
 two following principles : 
 
 1. Whatever quantity measures both the divisor and 
 dividend must also measure the remainder. 
 
 2. Whatever quantity measures both the divisor and 
 remainder, must measure the dividend. 
 
 For, first, let tlie divisor and dividend have a common 
 measure m, then the former may be expressed by ?«P, 
 and the latter by 7»Q. Let a denote the quotient ; then 
 the remainder being the excess of the dividend above 
 the product of the divisor and quotient, it will be mQ — 
 o?)iP=7n(Q — aP). Now, this quantity is manifestly divi- 
 sible by m, therefore the truth of the first principle is 
 evident. 
 
 Next, let the divisor and remainder have a common 
 measure 7h, then, the former being as before expressed 
 by viV, the latter may be expressed by 7hR. Put a, as 
 before, for the quotient; then, because the dividend is 
 equal to the remainder added to the product of the divi- 
 sor and quotient, it will be o;«P-J-mR=/»(aP-|-R.) Now, 
 this quantity is also divisible by '" ; therefore the truth 
 of the second principle is also proved. 
 
 74. In the application of the rule it is also to be re- 
 marked, tlial if the (juantities have any simple divisors, 
 these may be left out before beginning the operation. 
 I'or let a{ni-\.n)P and h{m-\-7i)(^ be two quantities which 
 have a common compound divisor n/J-.v, and which be- 
 
 sides have, the one a simple divisor «, and the other a 
 like divisor 6; then, leaving out these divisors, the com- 
 mon compound divisor m-^n of the resulting quantities 
 (//;-t-7ijF and (//!+;/ jQ remains exactly as beiore. In like 
 manner, it appears, that ii either or both the quantities 
 be multiplied by any simple (juantity or number (which 
 must sometimes be done, in order to proceed with the 
 operation), still the common compound factor remains 
 unchanged. 
 
 The very same remarks apply also to the successive 
 remainders which arise in the course of the operation: 
 that is, whatever compound divisor a remainder may 
 have, it will not be at all affected by the multiplication 
 or division of that remainder by a simple quantity or 
 number. 
 
 75. Let us now suppose that the common measure or 
 divisor of the quantities 5a' — ISc^A-t-l lai^ — 66' and 
 7r/2 — 23aA-t-64^ is required. Then, proceeding accord- 
 ing to the rule, we must divide tlie former quantity by 
 the latter; but as 5, the coefficient of the first term ol 
 the dividend, is not exactly divisible by 7, the coefficient 
 of the first term of the divisor, before we proceed, we 
 must multiply the dividend by 7; which, from what has 
 been just shewn, may be done without affecting the 
 common measure sought. We now proceed with the 
 operation thus : 
 
 7a2_25a6-f.662)35a'— 126a2A4.77a/.2 — 42A'(5a 
 35a'— ll5a2/5 + 30a62 
 
 — 1 \a^b + A7ab^ — 424' 
 
 Now, according to the first principle of § 7oy the com- 
 mon measure must also be a compound factor of the re- 
 mainder — \\a^b.\-i7ab^ — 426'. But this quantity has 
 a simple divisor 6, therefore, taking it out of all the 
 terms, the common measure sought must yet be a fac- 
 tor of — 1 Ia2-f-47fl6 — 426-. We may still continue the 
 operation, and divide — lla-+47n6 — 426^ by 7a^— 
 23rt64-66^, and because 1 1 is not exactly divisible by 7, 
 we first multiply the dividend by 7, as at the beginning, 
 and this done, the next step will stand thus : 
 
 7c2- — 23a6 + 662) — 77o2-J-529a6 — 29462( — 11 
 — 77a = -f 253c6— 6662 
 
 -f- 76a6— 1286* 
 
 Now, as we know that the common measure sought, 
 if it exist, is a factor of this last divisor and dividend, 
 therefore (§ 73.) we may be assured, that it is also a fac- 
 tor of 76rt6 — 2286- the remainder ; but this quantity has 
 a simple factor 766, therefore, leaving out that factor, it is 
 also a factor of a — 36, (§74.) We next take this quantity 
 as a divisor, and the former divisor 7a''- — 23o6-)-662 as a 
 dividend, and proceed according to the rule, thus, 
 
 a— 36J7fl2_23a6 + 662(7a— 26. 
 7a^ — 21a6 
 
 — 2n6-f 662 
 
 — 2a6-l-662 
 
 and as the division now terminates without a remainder, 
 we conclude, that a common measure of a — 36, and 
 7o2 — 23(26 + 662 is the quantity c — 36 itself Bute — 36is 
 the only compound factor contained in 766 (« — 36)=:76a6 
 — 22862, (.|^g former remainder, therefore, a — 36 is the 
 only compound factor common to the former divisov
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 4O0 
 
 Ta^ — 2jab+6b^, and the remainder 76af> — 22862 ; and 
 consequently (§"3.) it is also the only common factor of 
 the same divisor, and the dividend — 77a^ + 329a6 — 2946*. 
 Now it has been shewn, that any compound factor of this 
 tjuaiitily is the oidy one that can be found in — Wa^d 
 -\-47ab^ — 426^, the first remainder; therefore, a — 3/5 is 
 the only compound divisor common to the first divisor 
 7a^ — 23ab-{-6b^ and first remainder — lla^b+iTab'^ — 
 426', and consequently (by § 73.) a — 36 is a factor of both 
 the first divisor, and first dividend ; that is, of the pro- 
 posed quantities, and it is the only one they can have. 
 
 76. The common measure of two quantities being 
 found, a fraction, whose numerator and denominator are 
 these quantities, is immediately reduced to its most sim- 
 ple form, by dividing its terms by that measure. 
 
 .. , r ■ 5a^—\Hn^b+i]ab^~6h^ 
 1 hus, if the fraction were ^ — ; 
 
 ' 7a2 — Aiab+bb^ ' 
 
 because the common measure of its terms has been just 
 
 found to be a — 36, therefore, dividing them by that nica- 
 
 , . . . , , 5«2 — 5o6 + 262 
 
 sure, the traction is reduced to j . 
 
 7 a — 26 
 
 were numeral fractions; that is, they must be changed 
 into others of equal value, and having a common de- 
 nominator, and this is done by multiplying the numera- 
 tor and denominator of each by all the denominators, ex- 
 cept its own. Thus, let the fractions be — ~, and -^; 
 
 b d / ' 
 
 then, multiplying the terms of the first by dandf, it be- 
 ar//' 
 comes ~-, and multiplying the terms of the second by 
 
 6 and/. It becomes —-., and multiplyins: these of thr 
 
 OClJ ° 
 
 third by 6 and d, it becomes — -. Hence we obtain three 
 
 r ,. adf hcf bed 
 
 tractions, — — , — ^., ——, having a common denominator, 
 
 bdj bdj bdj 
 
 and respectively equivalent to the original fractions, 
 
 ace 
 
 6' 7' 7' ^^ ^'" ifiTiediately appear by leaving out oi' 
 
 their new values such factors as are found in both nu- 
 merator and denominator. 
 
 77 . It is sometimes convenient to reduce an integral 
 quantity to the form of a fraction. This may be done 
 by assuming any quantity whatever for a denominator, 
 and taking the product of the integer by that quantity 
 for a numerator. Thus, taking d for a denominator, any 
 
 integral quantity a is evidently equivalent to — ; alson-f. 
 
 b is equivalent to 
 
 ad+bd 
 
 An integer may be regarded 
 
 as a fraction, whose denominator is unity. 
 
 78. If a quantity is made up of an integer and a frac- 
 tion, it may be reduced to the form of a fraction, by 
 changing its integral part to a fraction, having the same 
 
 denominator as its fractional part. For example, a -| — 
 
 . , ac bd , . ac-\-bd 
 
 IS equivalent to — I — , that is to . 
 
 c c c 
 
 ner. 
 
 is, to 
 
 ed- 
 
 b — d 
 ab — cid-^cd- 
 
 6. . , a{b—d)^ 
 is transformed to -^, - + 
 
 In like man- 
 
 cd — ab 
 
 that 
 
 -ab cd — ad 
 
 b—d b—d 
 
 This transformation is 
 
 b—d b—d 
 
 equivalent to the reducing of a mixt number in arith- 
 metic to an improper fraction. 
 
 79. On the contrary, a fractional quantity may some- 
 times be changed into a quantity partly integral and 
 partly fractional, by a mode of proceeding entirely analo- 
 gous to the reducing of an improper fraction in arithme- 
 tic to a mixed number ; namely, by dividing the numera- 
 tor by the denominator, as far as an integral quotient can 
 be obtained, and completing the quotient, by annexing to 
 it a fraction, whose numerator is the remainder, and de- 
 
 , ,. . ,_, 3n64-af-l-ff/ , 
 
 nominator the divisor. Thus ■ ■ — may be trans- 
 
 cd 
 
 formed to 3Zi-f f-f — ; and, in like manner, 
 
 be changed to a — b-\- 
 
 262 q2 — 26* 
 
 ; , and 
 
 «-f6' 
 
 a—b 
 
 [2 + 62 
 
 c + 6 
 
 to a- 
 
 may 
 
 -6— 
 
 c— 6" 
 
 80. Algebraic fractions require to be prepared for the 
 operation of addition and subtraction, cxactlyas if they 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 81. When fractions have a common denominator, or 
 are transformed to others having a common denominator, 
 they are added and subtracted exactly as in arithmetic; 
 namely, by taking the sum, or the diflerence of the nume- 
 rators, and placing it over the common denominator. 
 
 Thus the sum of the fractions - and — or (reducing them 
 
 to a common denominator,) of -r-, and — is — — — . 
 
 " '"' bd bd 
 
 .a—b 
 
 bd 
 
 Q2 + 62 
 
 Again, the sum of ~— — and - — -^ or (reducing to 
 
 a-f.6 
 a common denominator,) of 
 
 n2+«264.«6'-|-6^ . 
 
 2c3+263 
 
 a^ — a26 — ab^ + b^ 
 a^^a^b — ab' — 6' 
 
 and 
 
 But the tenms of 
 
 a^+a'^b — ab2 — 6^ a--+a^f) — q62 — 6''' 
 this fraction have a common measure, viz. a-J-6, which 
 may be found by § 72. ; therefore, dividing both nume- 
 rator and denominator by this measure, we get the sum 
 
 .u • , . 2(a2— c6 + 6M 
 otherwise expressed bv — :^ '■ -'. 
 
 n3 „25 062-1-63 
 
 :2 — 62 
 
 Also, the first of these fractions, viz. 
 
 a3_j.Q26 — a62 — 63' 
 
 being subtracted from the second — - — — -! — -r — -., the 
 
 a''-\-a''-b — ab' — b' 
 
 . , . 2a26 + 2a62 . . ^ . . 
 
 remainder is —r- r-^ — r- — ~t a traction havinsj its nu- 
 
 a^-\-a^b — ab^ — 6' ° 
 
 merator and denominator both divisible by a-\-b, as may 
 
 be discovered by the rule of § 72. Therefore, dividing 
 
 the terms of the fraction by this common measure, we 
 
 2q6 
 get the difference more simply expressed by — - — — 
 
 82. The rules for the multiplication and division of 
 fractions in arithmetic are also alike applicable in alge- 
 bra; and they may be readily investigated as follows : 
 
 First, let us suppose, that the fraction - is to be niul- 
 
 tiplied by the fraction —■ Let — =m, and — •=. n, then 
 d b d 
 
 n = 6m,and c=:f/?!, and therefore ac=bmXd7i:=bdmv, and, 
 
 oc a c 
 
 dividing these equals by bd, ■—=7nn; but 7nn=— X^ there- 
 
 3 F
 
 410 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 , a c of , . , , ,. ... 
 
 fore tX -;="■.; that is, the product of two fractions is a 
 b a bd 
 
 fraction whose numerator is the product of their nume- 
 rators, and denominator is the product of their denomi- 
 nators. 
 
 83. Next let us suppose, that - is to be divided by 
 
 ~, then, assuming as before -j—"h and -j=«, we have 
 
 a=biti, and c—dn, also ad:=bdm, and bczzbdn, there- 
 
 r ad bdm m , vi , , . .a . . 
 
 lore —=. =— ; but — denotes the quotient ot - divi- 
 de bd7i n n o 
 
 ded by --, therefore the quotient of - divided by - is 
 — , that is, to divide one fraction by another, we must 
 
 DC 
 
 multiply the denominator of the divisor by the numera- 
 tor of the dividend for the numerator of the quotient, and 
 the numerator of the divisor by the denominator of the 
 dividend for its denominator. 
 
 As an integer quantity may be regarded as a fraction, 
 
 whose denominator is unity, the product of - by c will be 
 
 -X-r=— ; and the quotient of - divided by c will be 
 o \ b b 
 
 cXl_a_ 
 
 Axc be' 
 
 84. When two fractions are such that the numerator 
 and denominator of the one are the denominator and 
 numerator of the other respectively, the one fraction is 
 called the reciprocal of the other. Thus, the fractions 
 
 — and — are the reciprocals of each other. 
 b a 
 
 - Q ,. . , , , c . ad a d 
 Because the quotient of -divided by- is -~zz-y.~ ; 
 ^ d he b c 
 
 therefore the quotient of one fraction divided by another 
 is the product of the dividend, and the reciprocal of the 
 divisor. 
 
 Sect. III. Of jirofiortion. 
 
 85. When there are four quantities, such, that the 
 first contains either the second, or some part of the 
 second, just as often as the third contains the fourth, or 
 a like part of the fourth; then, it is easy to see that a 
 certain relation subsists between the first and second of 
 these quantities, in respect of magnitude ; which takes 
 place also between the third and fourth. It is this rela- 
 tion of the quantities to each other which is called their 
 ratio. 
 
 86. When that identity of relation, which we have 
 just now described, takes place between the first and 
 second, and between the third and fourth of four quan- 
 tities, it is evident, fr-im the nature of division, that the 
 quotient of the first quantity, divided by the second, must 
 be equal to the quotient of the third divided by the 
 fourth. Hence it follows, that we may employ tlie 
 equality of these quotients as the test by which we de- 
 termine, whether, in the case of any proposed quantities, 
 such an identity of ratios exists. 
 
 We may therefore lay it down as a definition, that the 
 first of four quantities is said to have to the second, the 
 same ratio which the third has to the fourth, when the 
 
 quoti'-nt of the first, divided by the second, is cquai 
 
 to the quotient of the third divided hy the fourth. That 
 
 is, putting a, b, c, and d, to denote four quantities, the ra- 
 
 a c 
 tio of « to 6 is c(iual to ilie ratio of c to (/, if -=:-;. 
 
 b a 
 
 87. A ratio is generally expressed by placing its terms 
 with two points between them thus, u : b, which is read, 
 the ratio of a to b. The former term a is called the 
 anteccde?it, and the latter the consct/ui-nt of the ratio. 
 The similarity or equality of two ratios is denoted by 
 writing the expressions for the ratios with four points 
 between them, thus, a : b : : c : d ; which indicates that 
 the ratio of a to A is the same with, or equal to, the ra- 
 tio of c to d, and which is read thus, a is to 6 as c to d. 
 The same thing is also sometimes expressed thus, a : b 
 :=c: d. 
 
 88. Two equal ratios constitute a proportion, and their 
 terms are called four proportionals ; the first and last 
 tenns are called the extremes, and the second and third 
 teiTiis, the means. The last term is also called a fourth 
 proportional to the other three. 
 
 When the consequent of the first ratio is the same as 
 the antecedent of the second, the proportion will con- 
 sist of three different terms only. Such, for example, 
 istlic proportion a : b : : b : d; in which case b is called 
 a mean proportional between a and d, and d a third pro- 
 portional to a and b. 
 
 89. The theory of proportion formed an important 
 part of mathematics among the ancients ; and, in the 
 writings of Euclid, we find it treated at great length, 
 and in such a manner as to apply not only to number, 
 (to which only at present we propose to apply it) but 
 also to magnitudes of every kind. 
 
 The ancient method of reasoning by means of propor- 
 tions, which was often tedious and circuitous, is now, 
 however, in a manner rendered unnecessary by the in- 
 vention of algebra, which is both more concise, and of 
 infinitely more extensive application as an instrument 
 of reasoning. 
 
 The common properties of proportionals, as far as they 
 relate to abstract numbers, or numbers considered as 
 the representatives of quantities of any kind, may be 
 briefly demonstrated as follows. 
 
 90. If four quantities be proportionals, the product of 
 the two extremes is equal to the product of the means. 
 
 Let a : b : : c : d, then (§ 86.) t=-;' therefore, multi- 
 
 abd bed 
 plying these equal fractions by bd, — — ^— -; and hence 
 
 dividing the numerators by the denominators, arf= 6c. 
 
 be 
 
 91. Hence it appears, that li a : b : : c : d, thenrf= — • 
 
 For, dividing the equal products ad and be by a, the 
 quotients must be equal, that is, d=—. 
 
 92. If the product of two quantities be equal to the 
 product of other two quantities, the four quantities are 
 proportionals, and such, that the extremes are the fac- 
 tors of one product, and the means of another. 
 
 ad be 
 YoTiiad—be, then, dividing both by 6f/,we get — =— , 
 
 od bd
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 411 
 
 llierefore, reducing the IVaclions to lowest tertns-=-, and equals by the fraction , wc have = — -; thcre- 
 
 d It lib nd 
 
 fore ina : nb : : mc : nd. 
 
 99. If a : 6 : : c : rf, and a -. b : : c : f and a : b : : g : 
 h, and so on, or, which means the same, if a : b : : c id : : 
 e :/: : g : h; then shall a : b ; ; a -^ c ^ e + g : b ■{■ d 
 
 hence (§ 86.) a : b : : c : d. 
 
 93. If a : 4 : : c : rf, then shall b: a::d: c. 
 
 For because a : b : : c : d, therefore -=- ; now as the 
 
 o o 
 
 quotients of unity divided by these equal fractions must 
 be equal, therefore the products of unity by their reci- 
 procals (§84.) will also be equal, that is, Ix-=1X-, or 
 
 « c 
 b d 
 simply -=— , therefore (§ 86.) b : a : : d : c. 
 
 94. li a : b : : c : d, then shall a : c : : b : d. 
 
 a c 
 For because —=-, therefore, multiplying these equals 
 
 b ab be , , . , r • 
 
 by — , — = — , and, reducmg the tractions to lowest 
 
 ' C DC cd 
 
 terms — =— , therefore (% i&.) a : c : : b : d. 
 c a 
 
 95. If a : b : i c : d, then shall n+A : b : : c + rf : d, also 
 a+b -.a: : c+d : c. 
 
 For because -=-,(§ 86.) therefore, adding unity 
 
 to each of these equals, 7+ ' =-7+ 1 , but -+ 1 = -i-, 
 
 b d b b 
 
 , f , , c+rf , . a+A f-f rf , 
 and-+l= — —, therefore — 7— = — — ; hence (§ 86.) 
 da o d ' 
 
 a-\-b : b :: c-\-d : d. Again, because we have also 
 
 t^-i. (§ 93.) therefore, I +-=!+-, that is i±^=I±f, 
 a ' c a c u c 
 
 therefore, a + 6 : a : : c-\-d : c. 
 
 96. \i a : b :: c : d, then a being supposed greater 
 
 tJian 6, a — b : b: : c—d : dj also a — b : a : : c — d : c. 
 
 _, a c , . <^,c,,. a — b 
 
 For because ■r=-,j therefore - — 1=- — Kthatis— — 
 b d b d b 
 
 c—d 
 d 
 
 ; therefore a — b : b :: c—d : d. 
 
 Again, because we have also- =-, tlierefore I— ^ = 
 ° a c a 
 
 d , . a — b c — d ~, r , 
 
 1 , that IS = . Therelore a — b : a : : c — d 
 
 c a c 
 
 97. If a : b : : c : d, then shall a-f-A : a — b : : c+d : 
 
 c—d. 
 
 _, . , , , , f/ + A c-\-d a — b 
 
 For It has been shown that — ; — =r — ; — , also that — ; — 
 
 o a b 
 
 = ; now if we divide the equal fractions — ; — and 
 
 d b 
 
 c+d , , ... a — b , f — d , 
 
 -— — by the equal tractions — - — and — — - the quotients 
 
 , , , r °+* * '■+'' 'i 
 
 must be equal: therefore — - — x r= — r—X r> 
 
 a — b d c — d 
 
 that is -i-p =- — T) hence (§ 86.) a+b : a — b : : c+d : 
 a — o c—d 
 
 c—d. 
 
 98. If a : i : : c : (/, then m and n being any numbers 
 
 whatever, ma : nb : : mc : nd. 
 
 a c 
 For because — =— , therefore, multiplying these 
 
 For because ah=zba'^ 
 
 and ad=bc 
 
 and 
 
 and 
 
 a/i=bgj 
 
 by § 90 
 
 90. 
 
 therefore, adding equals to equals, ab + ad + af + aJi=^ 
 ba + be + be + bg, thai is a {b + d +f+h) =. b {a + c 
 + >: +g); therefore (§ 92.) « : b :: a + c + e + g : b+ 
 d+f+h. 
 
 100. \ia : b :: c : d. 
 and e :/: : g : h, 
 
 Then shall ae : bf : : eg : dh. 
 
 For because af/=Af, ) . , 
 and eh=fg,\ ^ ^ 
 
 therefore, multiplying equals by equals, arfe/i=5f/^-, that 
 is ae X dli=bf X eg, therelore (§ 92.) ae : 0/ : : eg : dh. 
 And in like manner it may be proved, that if tiierc be 
 any number of sets of proportionals, the products of the 
 corresponding terms are also proportional. 
 
 Sect. IV. Of Equations in general, and of the Resolu- 
 lution of Simple Mijuatiotis. 
 
 101. We have now explained as much of the prin- 
 ciples of algebra as is sufficient for its application to one 
 class of questions, namely, such as produce what are 
 called Simple Equations. Therefore, before we proceed 
 in the further development of its principles, we shall, 
 in this Section, first explain what an equation is ; then 
 give some general rules for the management of equa- 
 tions ; and lastly, we shall treat in particular of simple 
 equations, and of the resolution of questions in which 
 they occur. 
 
 102. An equation, in general, is a proposition assert- 
 ing the equality of two quantities, and it is expressed by 
 placing the quantities with the sign = between them. 
 Thus 5x — 2=4j: -)- 3 is an equation asserting that the 
 quantity 5x — 2 is equal to the quantity ix + 3. 
 
 103. When a quantity stands alone on one side of 
 an equation, the quantities on the other side are said 
 \X) he. dL value of it. Thus, in the equation .r=/; -J- jr, 
 where x stands alone on one side, the quantity /; + /j is 
 its value. 
 
 104. An equation may contain some quantities which 
 are known, and others unknown or undetermined. Thus, 
 in the equation ax — 2i!i-r=f, the quantities a, b, and c, 
 may be regarded as known, and x as unknown. Also, 
 in the equation 7nx + 7iii=^a — b, ?n,n,a, and b may con- 
 sidered as known, or determinate quantities, and x and 
 y as unknown, or indeterminate quantities. 
 
 105. Equations containing only one unknown quan- 
 tity and its powers, are divided into orders or degrees, 
 according to the highest powers of the unknown quan- 
 tity to be found among its terms. An equation which 
 contains only the first power of an unknown quantity, is 
 called a simple equation, also an equation oi the frst or- 
 
 3 F 2
 
 412 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 <lcr or degree. Sucli, lor example, is the equation ux = 
 b -\- c, where x denotts an unknown, and o, b, c, known 
 (juunliiics. 
 
 106. When by any management of the terms of an 
 equation, the first power of llie unknown quantity is 
 brought to stand alone on one side, and known quan- 
 tities only on the other side, that equation is said to be 
 resolved. 
 
 107. The following rules apply equally to all equa- 
 tions, and are alone sufficient lor the resolution of sim- 
 ple equations. 
 
 !. Any term may be transposed from one side of an 
 equation to the other, provided its sign be changed ; and 
 the two sides will still be equal. 
 
 P"or let X + /i=i/ be any equation, then, because if 
 the same quantity, or equal quantities, be either added 
 to, or subtracted from equal quantities, the sums or re- 
 mainders will be equal, by subtracting /i from each side, 
 we have x-\-/i — /! = r/ — /i, that is x=afj — fi. Thus it 
 appears, that a quantity having the sign -f- on one side 
 of an ecjuation, when transposed to the other must have 
 the sign — . Again, let x — •//=)■, then, adding/; to both 
 sides, .r — fi -{- /i=ir +/i, that is, .r=r-f-/!; therefore, 
 a quantity having the sign — on one side of an equa- 
 tion, when transposed to the other, must have the 
 sign +. 
 
 Hence it appears, that the signs of all the terms of an 
 equation may be changed, without affecting' the truth of 
 the equation. 
 
 2. If every term on each side of an equation be mul- 
 tiplied by the sanre quantity, the sides of the equation 
 will still be etiual. 
 
 This is evidently nothing more than the multiplying 
 of equal quantities by the same quantity, and of course 
 the products must be equal. By this rule, if x-\-fi=q, 
 then, multiplying both sides by any number 7i, we have 
 
 nx -\- 7ifi:=.>iq. Also, if \. fi.=q — r, multiplying both 
 
 sides by a, we have x-\- afi=z. {q — )). 
 
 If any terms of an equation be fractions, by this 
 rule their denominators may be taken away, so that 
 then the equation will contain only integers. Let 
 
 1- =fi, then multiplying all the terms by m, the 
 
 4. If any quantity be lound on both sides of an equa- 
 tion with the sanu sign, it may Ije taken away from both ; 
 and if all the terms are muliiplied, or uivitlcd, by the 
 same quantity, it may be taken out of them all. 
 
 Thus, if X 4- a=fi -)- a, then x=fi. Also, if mx=mji 
 
 , then X;= 
 
 n n 
 
 r : All which is sulficiently manifest. 
 
 'Kj, then jc=/i -j- y. And if = 
 
 + 
 
 108. If the sides of one equation are added to the sides 
 of another equation, it is nuunlcst that tlie sums will also 
 be tlie Sides of an equation, and that this will be true, 
 whatever be the number of equations. Thus, ii a + 
 b=c, and x=dy, then a -{■ b -p xz=c -{- dy. In like 
 manner, the sides of one equation may be subtracted 
 from those of another, and the remainders will also be 
 the sides of an equation. Thus, taking the same equa- 
 tions as before, a + b — j.=f — dy. In the former case, 
 the equations are said to be added, and in the latter sub- 
 tracted. 
 
 109. When a question is to be resolved by algebra, 
 we must, in the lirst place, consider attentively all its 
 circumstances, and remark what quantities are con- 
 cerned in it ; and of these, which are given, and which 
 are required. 
 
 Having obtained an accurate knowledge of the rela- 
 tions which subsist among the quantities, we must then 
 proceed to express these relations by equations ; and to 
 effect this we may employ the following general rule : 
 
 Represent the cjuantity or quantities sought, each by 
 a letter; then, employing the notation of algebra, pro- 
 ceed to perform such operations upon the quantities, 
 both known and unknown, and to treat them by such 
 modes of reasoning as would be required, if, having dis- 
 covered the values of the unknown quantities, we wish- 
 ed to examine whether they were truly detennined. 
 
 1 10. It will not, however, in many cases be necessary 
 to denote all the unknown quantities by different letters. 
 Thus, if it appears from a question under consideration, 
 that one unknown quantity is the sum of another un- 
 known quantity, and a known quantity a ; then, if the 
 latter be denoted by x, the former will be represented 
 by X -\- a. In like manner, if the product of two unknown 
 quantities is a known number o, then, the one being re- 
 
 equation becomes x-| —=.mfi ; and again, multiplying presented by x, the other will be expressed by — . Or 
 
 this last equation by n, we have nx -^ mx:=mnfi. We 
 have cleared the equation of fractions at two operations, 
 but it might have been done at once, by multiplying its 
 terms by mn, the product of all the denominators. Or it 
 will even be sufficient to multiply by any number that 
 is divisible by all the denominators. Thus, if the equa- 
 
 X X 
 
 tion be [--—-=10, then multiplying by 24, we have 
 
 .5.r -f- 2x=240, or 5x=240. 
 
 3. If each side of an equation be divided by the same 
 quantity, the sides will still be equal, as is sufficiently 
 evident. 
 
 Thus, let 5x=20, then dividing both sides by 5, x = 
 
 -0 
 — 3-^4. Again, if mx -f nx=3fi, or {m -j- n x=Ji, then, 
 
 dividing by m -{■ n, x = - 
 
 /I 
 
 m -\- ?! 
 
 By this rule, the coefficient of any term of an equa- 
 tion may be taken away, by dividing all the terms of the 
 equation by that coefficient. 
 
 if the quotient of one unknown quantity divided by ano- 
 ther, be a known number a ; then, x being put for the 
 latter quantity, the other w ill be ax. 
 
 111. When the conditions of a question are express- 
 ed by equations, the remainder of the solution consists 
 in finding the values of the unknown quantities contain- 
 ed in these equations, which may be always done by 
 determinate rules, as will appear from the following 
 examples. 
 
 Queslions firoduc'mg Simfile Equations resolved by One 
 unknown Qziamity. 
 
 Example 1. It is required to divide 7 into two such 
 parts, that the greater may exceed the less by 3. 
 
 Let X denote the greater part. Then, because the 
 greater part exceeds the less by 3, x — 3 will denote the 
 less and x + x — 3, or 2x — 3, will express the sum of 
 the numbers. But the question requires tlis sum to be 
 7 ; therefore.
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 413 
 
 2x—3 = r 
 And transposing 3 (by Kule 1. § 107.) 2j.— 7+3 = 10 
 
 And dividing by 2 (Rule 3.) x=—=.5 
 
 Therefore, x — 5=2 
 
 Hence it appears that the greater part is 5, and the 
 less 2. 
 
 Ex. 2. A father who has three sons, leaves them 1600 
 pounds. His will specifies, that the eldest shall have 
 200 pounds more than the second ; and that the second 
 is to have 100 pounds more than the youngest. Re- 
 quired the share of each ? 
 
 Let the share of the youngest be x; then that of the 
 second will be jr+lOO ; and that of the third x+ 100 + 
 200, or j: +300 ; therefore the sum of all their shares 
 will be expressed by .r+.r+100+x + 300, that is by 
 5a- + 400. But from the nature of the question, the 
 sum of their shares must be 1600 ; therefore, 
 3.r + 400 = 1600 
 
 And trans. 400, 3.r=1600 — 400=1200 
 
 1200 
 
 And dividmg by 3, x= — ;: — =400. 
 
 Hence it appears that the share of the youngest is 
 400 pounds ; and consequently, that of the second 400 + 
 100=500 pounds; and that of the third 500 + 200=700 
 pounds, 
 
 Ex. 3. A father being questioned as to the age of his' 
 son, replied, that if from the double of his present age, 
 the triple of what it was 6 years ago were subtracted, 
 the remainder would be exactly his present age. Re- 
 quired his age ? 
 
 Put X to denote his present age ; then its double is 2x; 
 and 6 years ago it was x — 6 ; the triple of which is 3 
 (x^6). Therefore, by the conditions of the question 
 x=2x — 3(jr— 6) 
 
 That is 
 Or trans. 
 Therefore 
 And 
 
 2.r — 3-C+18 
 -2a: = 18 
 
 x+3x- 
 2x = 18 
 x= 9. the answer. 
 Ex. 4. A father intends by his will, that his three sons 
 should share his property in the following manner : The 
 eldest is to receive 100 pounds less than half the whole 
 property ; the second is to receive SO pounds less than 
 the third of the whole property ; and the third is to have 
 60 pounds less than the fourth of the property. Re- 
 quired the amount of the Avhole property, and the share 
 of each son ? 
 
 Let the whole property be expressed by .r pounds. 
 
 X 
 
 Then the share of the first son is 
 
 And that of the second is 
 
 And that of the third is 
 
 2 
 
 X 
 
 -100 
 
 -80 
 
 50 
 
 X X X 
 
 So that the three sons receive Li all x +T+T ■ 
 
 100 — 
 
 80 — 60, or-^+— -I 240; and as this sum must, by 
 
 2' 3 ■ 4 
 
 the nature of the question, be equal to his whole pro- 
 perty, therefore, 
 
 X X X 
 
 - + - + --240=^ 
 
 2 • 3 
 
 4 
 
 And mult, by 12, by Rule ) , , „ 
 
 2 S 107 C 6x+4x+3x— 12jr=2880 
 
 That is x=2880. 
 
 Hence it appears that the whole fortune is 2880 
 pounds ; and consequently, that liic sliare of the first 
 son IS (144U — 100 = ) 1340 pounds ; and the share of the 
 second (960 — 80=) 880 pounds ; and the share of the 
 youngest (720 — 60=) 660 pounds. 
 
 Ex. 5. It is required to divide 25 into two such parts 
 that the greater may contain the less 49 limes. 
 
 Put X for the less part, then tlie greater will be ex- 
 pressed by 25 — X, and the number of times the greater 
 
 25 — X 
 contams toe less by . But by tlic question this 
 
 number must be 49, therefore, 
 25 — r 
 
 Multiplying by x, 
 Trans. 
 
 And div. by 50, 
 
 That is 
 
 •=49. 
 
 X 
 
 25 — jr=49:r 
 25=49x+x=50x 
 25_ 
 50~"^ 
 x=i 
 
 And trans. 
 
 XXV 
 
 -+--I x=240 
 
 2 ^3 '4 
 
 Thus it appears that jt, the less part is A; and, tlierC- 
 fore, that the greater, 25 — x, is 24i. 
 
 Ex. 6. A^gentleman distributing money, wanted 10«. 
 to be able to give 5s. to each person ; therefore he gives 
 each is. only, and finds he has 5s. left. Required the 
 number of persons and shillings ? 
 
 Let X denote the njiimbcr of persons ; then, if each 
 had received 5s., the number of shilUngs paid away 
 would have been 5x ; but the number of shillings falls 
 short of this sum by 10 ; therefore the number of shil- 
 lings will be 5x — 10. Again, because each received 
 4s., therefore the number of shillings actually paid away 
 was Ax; but in this case there were 5s. left ; therefore- 
 the number of shillings is also 4,r + 5. Now, as these 
 two expressions for the number of shillings must be: 
 equal, therefore, 
 
 5x — 10=4x+5 
 And trans. 5x — 4j::=10-f 5 
 That is x=\5 
 
 Therefore, 5x — 10.-=65 
 Or, 4x+ 5=65 
 
 Therefore, the number of persons is 15, and the num- 
 ber of shillings 65. 
 
 Ex. 7. A person paid a bill of 50/. with half-guineas 
 and crowns, using in all 101 pieces. How many pieces 
 were there of each sort ? 
 
 Let X denote the number of half-guineas ; then 101 — 
 
 X will be the number of crowns. Now, the value of the 
 
 2\x 
 half-gumeas, expressed in shillings, will be — — ; and 
 
 t 2 
 
 that of the crowns will be 5(101 — x)=505 — 5x, and 
 
 21 r 
 their sum will be — - +505 — 5x. But the value of both 
 
 the half-guineas and crowns must be equal to the shil- 
 Ihigs in 50/., that is to 1000 ; therefore, 
 
 21:r 
 
 L505 — 5x = 1000 
 
 2 
 
 Andmult. by2 21jr+1010 — 10x=2000 
 
 And trans. 21x— 10ar=2000 — 1010 
 
 That is, llx= 990
 
 414 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 990 
 Therefore, j^=— -=90 
 
 And 101 — ^=11 
 
 Therefore, the number of half-guineas was 90, and 
 that of the crowns 1 1 . 
 
 Ex. 8. A labourer engaged to serve for 30 days, on 
 these condhions; that for every day he worked he should 
 receive 20f/., but that for every day he played, or was ab- 
 sent, he should forfeit lorf. Now, at the end of the time 
 he had to receive just 20 shillings, or 240 pence. It is 
 required to find how many days he \\orked, and how 
 many days he played ? 
 
 Let X bo the days he worked ; then 30 — x is the days 
 he played. Therefore he earned 20jc pence, and for- 
 feited 10(30 — jr) = 300 — lO.r pence; and the excess of 
 the former sum above the latter, viz. 20x — (300 — IOjt) 
 =:50a- — 300, is the pence he had to receive. But by the 
 question he received 240 pence ; therefore, 
 
 50x — 300=240 
 
 And trans. 30jc=240-h300=540 
 
 540 
 And div. by 30, x=-— = 18 
 
 Hence 30 — jr^30 — 18 = 12. 
 
 It appears, therefore, that he worked 18 days, and 
 played 12. 
 
 Ex. 9. A farmer kept a servant for every 40 acres of 
 ground he rented ; and on taking a lease of 104 more 
 acres, he hired five additional servants ; after which he 
 had a servant for every 36 acres. Required the number 
 of servants and acres he had at first ? 
 
 Let X denote the number of servants he had at first ; 
 then .r + S expresses the number he had at last. Now, 
 as in the former case he had 40 times as many acres as 
 servants, and in the latter 36 times as many; therefore 
 the number of acres he had at first will be expressed by 
 40x, and the number he had after taking the lease, by 
 36(x-}-5). But by the question, the latter number of 
 acres exceeded the former by 104; therefore, 
 
 40x-^104=36(.r+5)=36.r+180 
 And by trans. 4.0jr — 56x=180 — 104 
 
 That is, 4x=76 
 
 Thus it appears that the second courier will overtake 
 the fiist in 15 hours; and as each must have travelled 
 8^ miles, or 6(?+5) miles (for these arc identical ex- 
 pressions), therefore the common distance travelled is 
 8X15=6X20=120 miles. 
 
 1 12. We have now given a solution to the question in 
 one particular case ; but it may be resolved generally, 
 as follows. Let m denote the number of miles the se- 
 cond courier travels in an hour, and ?» the number of 
 miles the first goes in the same time. Put a for the 
 number of hours the second sets off aflerlhe first ; d for 
 the distance he must travel before he overtakes him ; 
 and t as before, for the time required to go that dis- 
 tance : Then, by the nature of the question, rf=;n«, also 
 rf=:?!(/-(-a) = nc-J-"'z ; therefore mt = nt-\-na, and mt — nt 
 = na, that is {in — n)t=na, therefore, dividing by m — n, 
 
 >ia 
 
 e= 
 
 m — n 
 
 And since d=uu, therefore, 
 
 mna 
 
 m — n 
 
 These two expressions or formulas exhibit the values 
 
 of C and d in all cases whatever ; it being only necessary 
 
 to substitute the particular numeral values of in, w, and o, 
 
 in order to resolve any particular case. Thus, taking the 
 
 foregoing example, in which m^8, ra:=6, a = 5, we have 
 
 6X5 30 8X6X5 240 
 
 sHe"^!"^ ' ^^:Z6 ='2'— ' ^^ before. 
 
 1 13. These formulas may also be considered as exhi- 
 biting the relations of the quantities contained in them 
 to one another ; so that if any three of the four quantities 
 in either of them be given, the remaining one may be 
 found merely by the rules for the management of equa- 
 
 tions. Thus, from the first formula, viz. t= ,we get 
 
 Therefore, 
 And hence 
 
 76 
 x= — =19 
 
 4 
 
 40x=40X 19=760. 
 
 Hence it appears that the number of servants he had 
 at first was 19, and the number of acres 760. 
 
 Ex. 10. A courier sets off from Edinburgh for London, 
 and travels at the rate of 6 miles an hour. Five hours 
 after, another courier sets off from the same place, to 
 overtake the former, and travels at the rate of 8 miles 
 an hour. How long, and how far must they travel, be- 
 fore the second courier overtakes the first? 
 
 Let t represent the number of hours the second cou- 
 rier travels ; then t-\-5 will be the number of hours the 
 first travels. And since the first travels 6 miles an hour, 
 in t-{-5 hours he will travel 6(t+5):=6i+oO miles. Also, 
 because the second travels 8 miles an hour, in t hours 
 he will travel 8t miles. But when the second comes 
 up with the first, they must both have travelled the same 
 distance. 
 
 Therefore 8t=6f+SO 
 
 And hence 8; — 6; = 30 
 
 That is, 2< = 30 
 
 Therefore, t — l5 
 
 a= 
 
 t(jn — ri) n(Q+«) mt — ; 
 
 ■na 
 
 n 
 
 And from the second, d=z 
 
 121 
 
 d(in — n) dn 
 
 t 
 mna 
 
 
 mz 
 
 m7i 
 
 'd—na/ 
 
 we get 
 
 dm 
 7na-\-d' 
 
 1 14. The foregoing general resolution of the question 
 shews wherein algebra differs from arithmetic. In the 
 latter science, the results obtained are always particular, 
 and correspond to the data of an individual question ; but 
 in the former, they are general, and shew what are the 
 arithmetical operations that must be performed, in order 
 to resolve any question whatever of that kind. 
 
 Resolution of Shnjdc Equations, containing more than one 
 unknoivn Quantity. 
 
 115. The questions we have hitherto considered 
 have all been of such a nature as to admit of being re- 
 solved by assuming one quantity only as unknown ; and 
 the conditions of every such question, if it be properly 
 proposed, can furnish only one equation. There are ques- 
 tions, however, in which it is convenient, and even ne- 
 cessary, to assume several unknown quantities, and to 
 denote them by as many different symbols ; and the 
 conditions of such questions may furnish as many in- 
 dependent equations as there are unknown quantities, 
 or a less number of equations, but they cannot furnish 
 more. 
 
 116. If the conditions of a question do not furnish as
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 415 
 
 jnany equations as there are unknown quantities to be 
 detcnuincU, tliut qucbliun will in geiicial •.luiuilol an iii- 
 tlelinitc number ol solutions, as will be expluuicd altcr- 
 waitls ai the course ol this treatise. 
 
 117. If, on ihe other hand, the question furnish just 
 as many independent equations as there are unknown 
 quantities, and no more ; then, by means of tliese equa- 
 tions, the unknown quantities may be all determined ; 
 and in the ease of simple equations, each can have only 
 one value. 
 
 118. 11, however, a question were proposed which ap- 
 peared to furnish more equations than unknown quan- 
 tities ; then, unless some of these equations were depen- 
 dent upon others, and deducible from them, so as to 
 reduce the number of independent e(|ualions to that of 
 the unknown quantities, the question would be impossi- 
 ble. 
 
 119. We proceed now to shew how, when the num- 
 ber of equations is exactly equal to the number of un- 
 known quantities, the latter may be determined. And 
 first, we shall suppose that there are two equations, and 
 two unknown quantities. Then, to determine these, we 
 may proceed according to any one of the three follow- 
 ing methods : 
 
 Method 1. Find the value of one of the unknown 
 quantities in terms of all the others ; from each of the 
 two equations, by the rules already explained; (§107.) 
 then put these two values equal to one another, and thus 
 a new equation will be formed, containing only one un- 
 known quantity. 
 
 Find the value of the unknown quantity contained in 
 this new equation, as already taught, and substitute it in 
 cither of the two values of the other unknown quantity, 
 and the result will be the value of that quantity, expres- 
 sed by known quantities only. 
 
 Example. Required the values of .r and y from these 
 two equations. 
 
 2x-l-y=24, 7x — 3i/ = 19. 
 
 From the first equation, by transposing, we have 
 
 . . 24 u 
 
 2x='2i—y, and dividing, x^ — ■ From the second 
 
 equation, by transposing, we get 7.r=19-f 3;/ and divi- 
 ding, A-= — . We now put these values of x equal 
 
 , an equation 
 
 , , 19-f3u 2-t — u 
 
 to one another, and thus sjet — — -= - 
 
 ^7 2 
 
 containing only one unknown quantity y. To resolve 
 this equation, we first take away the denominators, (as 
 directed Rule 2,(§ 107.) and thus obtain 38 -f- 6;/= 168— 
 7y ; and hence, by transposing, 7!/-|- 6!/= 168 —38 ; that 
 is, 13i/ = 130, therefore y = \0. 
 
 Next, to have x, we substitute in place of y its value 
 10, in either of the two equations .r = 
 
 19+3y 
 7 
 
 24— 
 
 24- 
 
 If we substitute in the first of these we hav( 
 
 2 "" 2 "~ 
 
 get x= 
 
 ; and if we substitute in the second, 
 
 19 + 3_X 10 49 
 
 7' 
 
 -=— =7, the same as before. 
 
 Thus it appears, that -i-==7, and i/=10. 
 
 Method 2. From either of the equations find a value 
 of one of the unknown quantities in terms of the other 
 
 quantities, and substitute this value instead of that un- 
 known quantity in the other equation, which will then 
 contain only one unknown quantity. Find now the va- 
 lue of the unknown quantity in this e(|uatii)n, and thence 
 that of the other unknown quantity, as in the first me- 
 thod. 
 
 To shew how this method is to be applied, take the 
 same example as before, viz. 
 
 2x-|-i/=24, 7x — 3(/=l9. 
 
 From the first of these equations, we get i/=24 — 2j?. 
 
 We next substitute this value of y instead of it in the 
 
 second ecjuation, which now becomes 7x — 3 (24 — 2.r) 
 
 = 19, an equation containing j^- only. To determine x, 
 
 we first express the equation thus, 7x — 72-)-6x=19 ; 
 
 and hence, by transposing, we get 7a:4-6x = 19-f 72, that 
 
 91 
 is, 13.r=91 : therefore j:=-— =7. We now substitute this 
 13 
 
 value of X in the equation ;y=:24— 2x and thus get lys 
 
 24 — 2x7=10. Therefore jr=7,and 1/ = 10, agreeing with 
 
 the result obtained by the first method. 
 
 Method 3. Let the equations be multiplied, or divided, 
 by such numbers, or quantities, as will make the terms, 
 which contain one of the unknown quantities, the same 
 in both equations, if they are not the same when first 
 proposed. 
 
 Then, if the terms which are alike in both equations 
 have contrary signs, that is, one -\- and the other — , add 
 the equations ; but if the terms have the same sign, 
 subtract the one equation from the other, and thus 
 the one term will cancel the other, and there will be 
 produced a new equation, containing only one unknown 
 quantity, which may be resolved in the usual way. 
 
 Having found one of the quantities, the other may be 
 obtained by the same method ; or the value of the quan- 
 tity found may be substituted instead of it in either of 
 the original equations, which will then contain only one, 
 the other unknown quantity. 
 
 J^ote. Two unequal terms, containing the same un- 
 known quantity, may be made equal, by multiplying each 
 by the coefficient of the other. 
 
 Taking the same example as before, viz. 
 
 2jf + i/=24, 7x — 3!/ = 19, 
 
 we propose to determine the value of x by this method. 
 Now, to do this, we must, in the first place, give the 
 equations such a form, that the term containing y may 
 be the same in both. Accordingly, we multiply the 
 terms of the first equation by 5, and write the result, 
 ■with the second equation below it thus, 
 
 6x-h5i/ = 72 
 7x — 3i/=19 
 
 By adding these equations, the terms containing 7/ 
 destroy each other, and we get 13:c=91, an equation 
 containing x only, from which we find .i-=7. 
 
 To determine the value of y, in the same manner, we 
 multiply the first equation by 7, and the second by 2, and 
 the results are, 
 
 14:r + 7!/ = 168 
 \ix — 6!/=38 
 
 Here we must subtract the lower equation from the up- 
 per to destroy x, and this done, we get 13!/ = 150, and 
 hence i/=10. 
 
 We might also have determined y, by substituting 7, 
 the value o{ x previously found, in either of the original 
 equations 2.t+!/=24, 7.t— oi/= 19 ; for the former would
 
 416 
 
 ALGEBR\. 
 
 then have become l.l4-!/=.24, and the latter 49— 3!/= 19, 
 and I'rom each of these, vvc get !/=10, as before. 
 
 120. An unknown quantity is said to be exterminatrd, 
 or climUmlcd, when from two equations, one or both of 
 which contain that quantity, we deduce a third equation, 
 in which that quantity is not found. 
 
 121. Let us now suppose, that there are three or more 
 unknown quantities, and as many independent equations, 
 then to determine the unknown quantities, we may pro- 
 ceed as follows : 
 
 1. After the manner of the first of the three fore- 
 going methods, find the value of one of the unknown 
 quantities in each of the given equations. Next, put 
 two of these values equal to each other ; and then one of 
 these, and a third value equal, and so on, for all the va- 
 lues of it ; thus there will be produced anew set of equa- 
 tions, with which the same process is to be repeated, 
 and so on, till tliere is only one equation to be reduced 
 by the rules for a single equation. 
 
 2. Or, as in the second method, find the value of one 
 of the unknown quantities from one of the equations 
 only ; than substiuite this value instead of it, in the 
 other equations, which gives a new set of equations to 
 be resolved as before, by repeating the operation. 
 
 3. Or, lastly, as in tiie third method, reduce the equa- 
 tions, by multiplying them, or dividing them, so as to 
 make some of the terms agree ; then, by adding or sub- 
 tracting them, as the signs may require, one of the let- 
 ters may be exterminated, as before. 
 
 Example. It is required to determine the values of 
 the unknown quantities x, y, and z, from these three 
 
 equations. 
 
 Zx-\-5y-{-7z=z\79 
 ^x+ oil — 2z=64 
 5x—y -f 3z =75 
 
 Proceeding according to the first method, from the 
 first equation, after transposing, and dividing, we get 
 
 179 — 5,/ — 7z 
 x= -r 5 
 
 from these equations, by transposing and dividing, we 
 find ■ 
 
 1240 — 62z 670 — 26t 
 
 y— ,y— 
 
 31 28 
 
 and these values of y, being put equal to one another, 
 give 
 
 1240 — 62z 670 — 26z 
 3"l ~ 28" 
 
 an equation containing only one unknown quantity,, 
 and which, being cleared from the denominators, be- 
 comes 
 
 34720 — I735z=20770 — 806z, 
 
 and this equation again, by transposition, &c. is chan- 
 
 64- --. 
 and from the second .r = -- 
 
 3j^-j-2: 
 8 
 
 and from the third x=. 
 
 75 + V- 
 
 Putting now the first and second values of x equal to 
 one another, we get 
 
 1 79 — 5 V— 7r _64 — oy+2z 
 
 ^i 8 ' 
 
 and making the first and third equal, we have 
 
 179 — 5(/ — "z 75 + !/ — 3z 
 
 - ; 
 
 3 5 
 
 We have now exterminated one of the unknown quan- 
 tities, viz. X, and obtained two equations containing two 
 unknown quantities, the values of which may be found 
 by proceeding according to any one of the three methods 
 of § 1 19. In prosecuting the operation, however, we shall 
 continue to employ the first. We begin with taking 
 away the denominators, and the equations become 
 1432 — iOy — 56r = 192 — 9(/-f.6z 
 895 — 25y — 35z = 225-f5!/ — 9z 
 which being abridged, by collecting like terms toge- 
 ther, will stand thus, 
 
 31v-f-62z=1240 
 28!/-t-26z = 670 
 
 15950 
 
 930 
 
 ged to 13950 = 930z, from which we find z= 
 
 = 15. Next, to find the value of y, we substitute 15 in- 
 stead of z, in either of the two foregoing values of y, 
 
 , , . , „ . 1240 — 62z . 
 
 and takmg the first, viz. y= , we have 
 
 1240 — 62 X 15 
 
 31 
 
 1240 — 930 
 
 no 
 
 >1 
 
 31 
 
 31 
 
 :10 
 
 Lastly, to find x, we have only to substitute, in any 
 
 one of its three preceding values, the numbers 10 and 15 
 
 instead of y and z. Taking for example the first, viz. 
 
 179 — 5y — 7z 
 X = , we get 
 
 179 — 5X10 — 7x15 24 • 
 
 Resuming the same three equations, 
 
 5x-|-5y-t-7z=179 
 8x + oy — 2z= 64 
 5x — y -f 3z= 75 
 
 the values of .r, y, and z, may be determined by pro- 
 ceeding according to the third metliod, as follows : 
 
 To begin with exterminating z, let each equation be 
 multiplied by the product of the coefficients of z in the 
 other two; that is, let the first equation be multiplied 
 by 2X3, or 6, the second by 7x3, or 21, and the third 
 by 7x2, or 14, then the results are, 
 
 18x-f30!/-f42z = 1074 
 
 1 68x-t- 63i/ — 42z = 1 344 
 
 70x — 14y-f42z — 1050 
 
 Let the sum of the first and second of these equations 
 be now taken, as also the sum of the second and third, 
 thus we get 
 
 186x-f-93t/=2418 
 
 238x-f.49^=2394 
 
 But, by a little attention to these equations, it will 
 appear, that all the terms of the first are divisible by 93, 
 and all the terms of the second by 7 ; therefore, by ac- 
 tually dividing, the same equations are more simply 
 expressed thus, 
 
 2x-I- y= 26 
 34x.f7!/=342 
 
 Next, to exterminate y, let the first of these two 
 equations be multiplied by 7 the coefficient of y in the 
 second, then the result, and the second equation, will 
 stand thus, 
 
 14.r-f7!/ = 182 
 34x-|-7y=342 
 We now subtract the first of these two equations
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 4i: 
 
 Trom the second, and obtain 20x=160, and thence 
 
 x= =8. To find V, we substitute 8 instead of x in 
 
 either of the two equations, 2x + y = 26, 342+7i/ = 342, 
 and, taking the first, as the most simple, it gives us 
 16+i/=26, and hence j/=:26 — 16 = 10. Lastly, to find 
 r, we have only to substitute 8 and 10, instead of x and 
 y, in any one of the three original equations ; for exam- 
 ple, in the second, and the result is 64 + 30—22=64, an 
 equation containing z only, and from which we have 
 2z=r64+30 — 64=50, and 2=15, 
 
 It may happen that each equation does not contain all 
 the unknown quantities ; but still the foregoing methods 
 will apply, because this case only differs from that in 
 which all the quantities are present, by having the co- 
 efficient of such as are wanting, each=0. 
 
 Questions firoducing Sim/i/e Equations, resolved by em- 
 Jdoying more than one Unknown Quantity. 
 
 122. We now proceed to apply the foregoing rules 
 to the resolution of questions. 
 
 Example I. Find two numbers whose sum shall be 
 s, and difference rf, where s and d denote any given 
 numbers. 
 
 Let X be the greater of the two numbers, and y the 
 less. Then by the question 
 
 .r+i/z=s, x—y=zd. 
 
 Therefore, proceeding according to the third method, 
 (§ 119.) and taking the sum and difference of these 
 equations, we find 2x=s+rf, and 2y=« — d ; and hence 
 we have 
 
 x=^=ls+ld., y+^^' 
 
 which equations exhibit a general formula for finding 
 two quantities whose sum and difference are given. 
 
 Ex. 2. A man has two kinds of money, such, that four 
 pieces of the less value and three of the greater are 
 together equivalent to 31 shillings. Also five pieces of 
 the greater value, together with 5 shillings, are equiva- 
 lent to 16 pieces of the less. What is the value of a 
 piece of each kind ? 
 
 Let X denote the number of shillings equivalent to a 
 piece of the less value, and y the value in shillings of a 
 piece of the greater. Then the value of 4 pieces of the 
 less, together with 3 of the greater, will be expressed 
 by 4X-1-3!/, also the value of 5 pieces of the greater, 
 together with five shillings, will be 3!/-h5, and the value 
 of 16 pieces of the less will be 16x. Therefore the 
 conditions of the questions furnish these two equations, 
 
 4x+3y=31, 5i/ + 5=16x. 
 
 31— 4x 
 From the first equation, y=- 
 
 And from the second y 
 16x — 5 
 
 Therefore 
 
 3 
 _ 1 6x — 5 
 
 ~ 5 
 
 31 — 4x 
 
 And hence 
 That is 
 
 48x- 
 68x = 
 
 3 
 
 -15 = 155- 
 
 :170 
 
 -20x 
 
 Therefore x=-— =-=2i 
 68 2 * 
 
 (31^— 4x \ 
 — ;; ~)^ 
 
 Thus it appears that x=2\ and v=7 ; so that the 
 pieces of the lesser value may be half crowns, and those 
 of the greater 7 shilling pieces. 
 
 Vol. L Part H. 
 
 Ex. 3. A mule and an ass were carrying burdens 
 amounting to some hundred weight. The ass complained 
 of his, and said to the mule, I need only one hundred 
 weight of your load to make mine twice as heavy as 
 yours. The mule answered, Yes ; but if you gave mc 
 a hundred weight of yours, I should be loaded three 
 times as much as you would be. How many hundred 
 weight did each carry ? 
 
 Suppose the mule's load to be x hundred weight, and 
 that of the ass to be y hundred weight. If the mul<- 
 gives one hundred weight to the ass, the one will have 
 ^+1, and there will remain to the other x — 1; and 
 since in this case the ass is loaded twice as much as the 
 mule, we have i/ + l=2(x — l)=:2x — 2. 
 
 Again, if the ass gives a hundred weight to the mule, 
 the latter has x+1 and tlie ass retains y — 1 ; but the 
 burden of the mule being now three times that of the 
 ass, we have x+l==3(i/ — l) = 3i/ — 3. 
 
 Therefore the two equations are 
 
 y+lr:2x — 2, x+X-^Zy — 3 
 From the first equation xrz^-^^ 
 And from the second xzHoy — 4 
 
 Therefore Zy—i—^^ 
 
 And hence &y — ^^Zy + i, and 5i/~l 1 
 
 Therefore yzz — z:2- 
 ^55 
 
 And since xziSi/- 
 
 -4, therefore x:^2-. 
 5 
 
 Ex. 4. Three brothers bought a ship for a thousand 
 guineas. The youngest says that he could pay for it 
 alone, if the second gave him half the money which he 
 had ; the second says, that if the eldest would give him 
 only the third of his money he could pay for the ship 
 alone ; lastly, the eldest asks only a fourth part of the 
 money of the youngest to pay for the ship himself. How 
 much money had each ? 
 
 Suppose the first had x guineas, the second y guineas, 
 and the third 2 guineas. Then the conditions of the 
 question give these three equations. 
 
 X+iylZlOOO, I/+-1-2— 1000 2+ixZZlOOO. 
 From the first equation we have x:3lOOO — ty 
 And from the third xlZ4000 — iz 
 
 Therefore 1000 — J.!/z:4000 — iz 
 
 And hence yZZ.iz — 6000 
 
 But from the 2d equation ynlOOO — \z 
 
 Therefore 82 — 6000rzlOO0 — ^s 
 
 And hence 2ii:840 
 
 And consequently j/:r(1000 — \zzz)720 
 And x:^(4000 — 42— ) 640 
 
 Ans. The youngest had 640 guineas, the second had 
 720 guineas, and the eldest 840 guineas. 
 
 Sect. V. Of Involution and Evolution. 
 
 123. We have already stated (§ 50.), that by thepow- 
 er of a quantity is meant the product formed by multi- 
 plying the quantity a certain number of times by itself. 
 Hence it appears, that powers are to be found by a re- 
 petition of the operation of multiplication. 
 
 124. We have hitherto denominated powers from the 
 number of equal factors which entered into each consi- 
 dered as a product, calling aa or a^ the second power 
 of or, and aaa or a^ the third power of n, and so on. The 
 second power of a, however, is also called the square of 
 
 3 G
 
 418 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 a, and the thlifl power oi a ils cuOf ; because in geome- 
 try the area of ;i s(|uare is the prothict formed by multi- 
 plying the side of the st|U;ire by itscll ; and the content 
 of the cube is the product formed by multiplying the 
 side by itself twice. 
 
 The fourth power of a quantity is sometimes called 
 its bic/uadratc, and the fifth power its surnolid ; but 
 these terms, especially the latter, are now generally 
 disused. 
 
 125. The quantity from which a power is raised is 
 called the root of that power. Thus, as 4, or 2 X 2, is 
 the second power or square of 2, so, on the contrary, 2 
 is the second, or sfjuare root of 4; and, using general 
 symbols, a is the second or square root of o^ ; also the 
 third or cube root of c^ ; and the fourth root of a*; and 
 so on. 
 
 126. In treating of division, it has been shewn, that 
 to divide a power of a quantity by another power of the 
 same quantity, we must subtract the exponent of the 
 divisor from that of the dividend, and the remainder will 
 be the exponent of the quotient. But in applying that 
 rule, we have supposed the exponent of the divisor not 
 greater than that of the dividend. 
 
 If, however, we suppose the exponent of the divisor 
 greater than that of the dividend; as, for example, if 
 the divisor be a^, and the dividend n' ; then, employing 
 the same rule, the quotient will be a^~^=a~', that is, 
 the exponent will be — 1, a negative quantity. But the 
 
 „2 1 
 
 same quotient is manifestly — ZZ-(§71.) Therefore, 
 
 like as we represent aa by a' and aaa by a^, so, follow- 
 ing the analogy pointed out by the rule for division, we 
 
 may represeijt - by a"'. Also, because proceeding by 
 
 the general rule, the quotient of a^ divided by a* would 
 
 be a^~*~a""^, and the same quotient is — — -rC^y § 
 
 71.) therefore we may express-j, otherwise thus, a ^, 
 
 and so on. So that according to this notation, the cor- 
 responding terms of these two sets of quantities are to 
 be considered as equivalent. 
 
 , . , — , -, 1, aa, aaa, aaaa, . . 
 
 aaa aa a 
 
 . . a~3, a~^, a~^,a°,a^, ai, a* . . 
 
 127. As this mode of notation is founded upon an 
 analogy drawn from the general rules of division, and 
 (consequently) multiplication, it follows, that in multi- 
 plying and dividing these neg-ative Jioivers, as tliey are 
 called, the very same rules are to be observed as in the 
 case of positive powers ; that is, they are to be multi- 
 plied by adding the exponents of the factors, (regard 
 being had to the signs), and divided by subtracting the 
 exponent of the divisor from that of the dividend. 
 
 Thus a~2 xa~^=a~' ; because by the nature of alge- 
 braic addition the sum of — 2 and — 3 is — 5. And this 
 result agrees with the prodnct, otherwise found thus, 
 
 — X — =— -=fi~5. Again, =a^ ; because if — 3 be 
 
 a- a-' a' a~-^ 
 
 subtracted from — 1, the result is -{-2 or 2. And this 
 
 I'esult also agrees with the quotient found thus, —-. — - 
 \ a^ a 3 
 
 a t a 
 
 128. By employing this mode of notation, we may 
 cxpreis fractions in the form of integers ; also integers 
 
 in the form of fractions ; for — means the same as xu~i, 
 
 a^ 1 
 
 and a^A' means the same as - — r or — 
 
 6-j a— ^6" 
 
 In general, 
 
 any (juantity which is a factor of the denominator of a 
 fraction, may be earned to liie numerator by changing 
 the sign of us exponent, and conversely. 
 
 129. As every process of calculation has its converse, 
 so the finding of the powers of a given quantity, or root, 
 leads, on the contrary, to the opposite inquiry, namely, 
 having given any power, to find the root from which that 
 power was raised. Now, although, when the root is 
 given, any power of it may be found by multiplication, 
 as for exanipli , clie square of 3 is 3x3=9, and the cube 
 of 3 is 3X3X3=27, yet when the power is given, the 
 root cannot be immediately found by the contrary ope- 
 ration, viz. division. For in division we seek for an un- 
 known quantity, which being multiplied by a known or 
 given quantity, shall produce another given quantity ; 
 but when we investigate a root from its power, we seek 
 for an unknown quantity, which being multiplied by it- 
 self, or another unkKOwn quantity, shall produce a given 
 quantity, which is evidently quite a different inquiry. 
 
 130. Hence it appears, that the finding of a root from 
 its power may be regarded as an operation quite dis- 
 tinct, and of a different nature from the first four rules 
 of calculation ; and although the finding of a power from 
 its root may be regarded merely as an application of 
 multiplication ; yet, considering it as the opposite to 
 that of finding a root from its power, it may properly be 
 considered also as a distinct operation. 
 
 131. The operation by which any power of a quantity 
 is found from its root is called Involution ; and the op- 
 posite operation, by which the root is found from its 
 power, is called Evolution. 
 
 Of Involution. 
 
 132. From the nature of involution, it must be evi- 
 dent that the rule for performing it may be stated briefly 
 thus. Multiply the quantity whose power is to be found 
 by itself, as many times, except one, as there are units 
 in the index or exponent of the power, and the product 
 will be the power required. 
 
 1 33. By proceeding according to the rule, 
 
 The square of 7 will be 7x7=49. 
 
 '^ ""? 3 3 27 
 
 The cube of -^will be — X— X-=— 
 
 The fourth power of — , or -2, will be •2x-2X-2X-2s= 
 
 •0016 " 
 
 The square of 2x will be 2xX2jr=4.r 2 
 The cube of xy will be xyXxy)e.xy=x^\j'>' 
 
 .ax .„ , a*x'- 
 The fourth power of— will be — — 
 
 y y 
 
 Again, the square of a will be ay.a=a'^ 
 
 The cube of « will be nXaxa=n^ 
 
 And, in like manner, the fourth and fifth powers of o 
 
 will be n* and a^ respectively. 
 On the other hand, the square of — a is — aX — c=o* 
 The cube of — a is — cX— «X— c=— ^-^ 
 The fourth power of — a is — «X — cX — nX — a— a''
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 41D 
 
 In like manner, by observing tjiat like signs give a 
 positive product, and unlike signs a negative product, 
 (§ 56.) we find the 5th power ot —a to be — u', and Uie 
 sixth power of —a to be a^. 
 
 134. Thus it appears, that while all the powers of a 
 positive quantity are positive, the even powers of a ne- 
 gative quantity are also positive ; but its odd powers arc 
 all negative. 
 
 135. Again, the square of n* isG^x«^=a*. 
 The cube of a^ is a^xa^Xa'=a''. 
 
 In like manner, the fourth power of a" is o' ora^X'* 
 and the fifth power of a^ is a'" or a^x'. 
 
 Hence it appears, that when a quantity, which is a 
 power itself, is to be raised to any power, we must mul- 
 tiply its exponent by the index of the power to which 
 it is to be raised, and take the result for the power re- 
 quired. 
 
 136. The operation for the powers of any compound 
 quantity, for example the binominal a-fx, will stand 
 thus, 
 
 a+x the root, or first power 
 
 a-+2ax-{-x- the square, or second power 
 a-{-x 
 
 a^+2a^x-i- ax^ 
 -f- a^x-{-2ax^-i-x^ 
 
 a^+Sa'jT-f 3ax--f x^ the cube, or third power. 
 a-\-x 
 
 ti*-{-3a^x+3a'^x2+ ax^ 
 + a^x+Sa^x^ + Sax^+x* 
 
 <3*-f 4a^x-f6a-x2-f 4cx3-f X* the fourth power. 
 
 The same powers of a— x, by a like process, will be 
 expressed as follows : 
 
 a— x=:cr— X the first power 
 (a — x)^=a^ — 2ax -fx- the second power 
 (a — x)3=a' — 3a^x + jax^ — x' the third power 
 (a — x)*=a* — ia^x+6a^x^—4ax^+x* the fourth 
 power. 
 
 From which it appears, that the successive powers of 
 c-f-x and a=x differ in nothing but the signs of the 
 terms; those of a-fx being all positive, but those of 
 a—x positive and negative alternately. 
 
 There is a general rule, called the binomial theorem, 
 by which any power whatever of a binomial may be 
 found, without the trouble of multiplying the quantity 
 repeatedly by itself, and which the reader will find in- 
 vestigated in § 316 of this treatise. 
 
 Of Evolution. 
 
 137. The root of any quantity is expressed by placing 
 the sign ^ (called the radical sign,) before the quantity, 
 and prefixing to the head of the sign a figure to indicate 
 the denomination of the root. Thus the square root of 
 a is expressed by 2^,7, also simply by y'a; and the 
 
 cube root of a is denoted by ^i^a, and so 011. When tiu 
 quantity is compound, it is included in a parenthesis, and 
 the sign prefixed ilius, V'("^ + ''''^)i which denotes the 
 fourth root of the compound (|uahtily a^-|-6^. Some- 
 times the roots of compound quanlilics are expressed 
 
 thus ^«^ + *^» >^a^-fA^, whicli mean the same as 
 ' ^(a^+b^) andV(«' + *')- 
 
 138. If the cjuantity whose square, cube, or highei 
 root, is to be expressed, be obviously the square, cube, 
 or higher power of some other quantity, then, withoui 
 employing the radical sign, that quantity may be taken 
 for the root. Thus the square root of o^ is +a or — a ; 
 because (§ 56.) the square of — r/, as well as the square 
 of +a, is a^. Also the cube root of a^ is a; and the 
 cube root of — a^ is — a ; and the fourth root of a is either 
 +a or — c, as is evident from the nature of involution. 
 
 139. As a quantity composed of several factors is 
 raised to any power by multiplying the index of each 
 factor by the index of the power ; so, on the contrary, to 
 extract any root of a quantity composed of several fac- 
 tors, we must divide the index of each factor by the in- 
 dex of the root. 
 
 Thus the square rooi o{ a'^b* \\\\\ he. a'^b'^=ab^, or 
 
 ^—ab^. 
 
 The cube root of 27f/<'(A-f-f)', or of 3''a''(i-f-r)', will be 
 3 6. _a 
 
 35a'(6-l-c)3 = 5af(6-}-c) 
 
 140. If the quantity be a fraction, then its square cube, 
 
 or higher root, will be a fraction, whose numerator and 
 
 denominator are the square, cube, or higher root, of 
 
 the like terms of the fraction. Thus the cube root of 
 
 <2* •„ ■ a- 
 will be 
 
 86! 2b 
 
 141. If the exponents of the factors in any proposed 
 quantity are not exactly divisible by tlie index of the root, 
 then the root can only be expressed by notation. But 
 instead of employing the radical sign, it will in many 
 cases be better to express roots as fractional powers. 
 
 Therefore, as the square root of a~ is a^ =c, and the 
 
 square root of a* is a^=a^, and the cube root of o* is 
 6. 
 qT_q2 . so also the square root of a or c' may be ex- 
 
 1 3 
 
 pressed thus, a^; and the square root of a^ tlius, a^ ; 
 
 and the cube root of o^ th^g, c3 ; and so on. 
 
 3- ?- 
 According to this notation, the expression a^b^ ^yi)l 
 
 2 
 mean the same thing as y/ab^, and {a^+b'^y will mean 
 the same as 3^(02^42^2 q,. i^{a^^b'^)-. 
 
 142. The rules for finding the roots of compound 
 quantities are to be investigated, by raising known com- 
 pound quantities to different powers, and observing at- 
 tentively how the terms of such powers are formed 
 from the terms of their roots. 
 
 143. By involution it appears, that the square of a-f- 6 
 or («-|-*)2, is a^-f 2a6-|-62, but 2ab+b'^=z{2a+b)b, there- 
 fore, 
 
 (rt-f6)2=a2-f-(2a-fA)5. 
 
 3 G 2
 
 4' 20 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 In like manner, by involiillon we have 
 
 {a+b-rcy='i'^+2ab + b^ + 2ac+2bc+c-, 
 but 2ab + b'^ = {'2a+0jb andSai 4.26c + f2=(2a+2i+c)c, 
 therefore, 
 {a + b+cy=a^+(2a + b)b+{2a + 2b + c')c. 
 
 In the same way it appears that 
 (a-i.b4-c4.d)^- 5 "' + (2« + A)6+(2a+2A + c)c 
 
 By simply inspecting these three formulas, it will im- 
 mediately appear, 
 
 1. That the square of any compound quantity maybe 
 resolved into as many terms as there are terms or mem- 
 bers in the root. 
 
 2. That the first term is the square of the first mem- 
 ber of the root. 
 
 3. That the second term is the product formed by 
 multiplying the sum of twice the first, and once the 
 second term of the root, by the second term of the 
 root. 
 
 4. That the third term is the product formed by mul- 
 tiplying the sum of twice the first and second, and once 
 the third term of the root, by the third term of the root. 
 And so on. 
 
 144. From these observations, we readily deduce the 
 following rule for finding the square root of a compound 
 quantity. 
 
 Arrange the terms of the given quantity according to 
 the powers of the letters. Find the square root (a) of the 
 first term, which set down for the first member of the 
 root. Subtract its square (a') from the given quantity, 
 and divide the first term of the remainder by its double 
 (2o) ; the quotient (6) is the second member of the root. 
 Add this second member to the double of the first; 
 multiply their sum (^2a+ b) by the second member (6) ; 
 and subtract the product (2oA-f 6^) from the last re- 
 mainder. If nothing remain the root is found ; but, if 
 there be a remainder, divide the first term of it by dou- 
 ble the first member of the root (2a), the quotient (r ) is 
 the third member of the root. Add this third member 
 to the sum of double the first and second, and multiply 
 their sum (2a-)-26-ff) by the third member (c), and, 
 subtract the product from the last remainder : if there 
 be still a remainder, proceed as before, always dividing 
 the first term of the remainder by (2n), the double of 
 the first member of the root for a new member. 
 
 Ex. 1. Required the square root a^ -J- 2a6 -J- 62 
 Operation, 
 a' + 2ab + b-(a. -f b the root 
 a' 
 
 3n + b) 
 
 -, 2ab + b* 
 + 2a6-f 42 
 
 Ex. 2. Required the square root of a^ -f 2ab -f 6 2 
 -f 2ac-f 26c-fc2 
 
 Operation. 
 a2 +2ab +62+. 2cf + 26c + c^{a + 6 -f c 
 a^ the root 
 
 3a -}- b) -f 2ab -f 6^ + 2ac ^- 2bc -f c^ 
 -f- 2ab + 62 
 
 ■3a -f 26 -f c) -f 2ac + 2Af -f c» 
 4- 2ac -f 26c -f f2 
 
 Ex. 3. Required the squai-e root of d'—^x -\- — — 
 
 Operation. 
 
 a^ — ax -f -- (a — - the root. 
 
 4 2 
 
 a2 
 
 x\ x~ 
 
 ar2 
 —ax-f - 
 
 145. The same rule will also apply to the finding of 
 the square root of any number. But in its application 
 it will be proper to observe, 
 
 1. That if a number be divided into periods, proceed- 
 ing from right to left, so that each may consist of two 
 figures, except the last, which may consist of either 
 one or two figures, the number of figures in the root will 
 be equal to the number of periods. 
 
 2. The square root of the first period, if it be a square 
 number, or otherwise the square root of the next less 
 square number, will be the first figure of the root. 
 
 These two observations may be easily verified by tak- 
 ing the squares of a few numbers. 
 
 146. Let us now suppose that the square root of 
 223729 is to be found by the rule. This number will 
 consist of three periods, the first of which is 22 ; there- 
 fore the root consists of three figures, and as the next 
 less square to 22 is 1 6, the first figure of the root will be 
 the square root of 16 ; that is, 4. Put a to denote the 
 hundreds contained in the root; that is, let c =400, and 
 put 6 for the tens, and c for the units contained in it; 
 then, imitating exactly the process by which the root is 
 found in the above examples, the operation may stand 
 thus : 
 
 223729") 400=:a 
 
 I- 7on:6 
 
 a2= 160000 J 3=c 
 
 2a— 800 
 6z= 70 
 
 2a -f 6=870 
 
 63729 473 
 
 the foot. 
 
 60900 
 
 2a -}- 26=940 
 c= 3 
 
 2a -f 26 -f CZI943 
 
 2829 
 
 2829 
 
 It is easy to see, that in performing this operation we 
 might have omitted the cyphers in the root, as well as 
 in the divisors, and in the successive subtrahends, in 
 imitation of the like abbreviation which takes place in 
 common division. The operation would then have 
 stood thus, 
 
 223729(473 
 
 16 
 
 87)637 
 609 
 
 943)3829 
 2829
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 421 
 
 147. Instead of employing the rule for the square root 
 of a compound algebraic quantity, in finding tlie root 
 of a number, it will be better to make use of the fol- 
 lowing, which is deduced from the other, and which is 
 indeed nothing more than that rule modified so as to 
 apply to the particular case of numbers. 
 
 Rule for extracting the Srjuare Hoot of a numher. 
 
 Divide the given number into periods of two figures 
 each, by setting a point over the place of units, another 
 over the place of hundreds, and so on, over every se- 
 cond figure, both to the left hand in integers, and the 
 right hand in decimals. 
 
 Find the greatest square in the first period on the 
 left hand, and set its root on the right hand of the giv- 
 en mmiber, after the manner of a quotient figure in 
 division. 
 
 Subtract the square thus found from the said period, 
 and to the remainder annex the two figures of the next 
 following period for a dividend. 
 
 Double the root above mentioned for a divisor, and 
 find how often it is contained in the said dividend, ex- 
 clusive of the right hand figure of the dividend, and 
 set that quotient figure both in the quotient and di- 
 visor. 
 
 Multiply the whole augmented divisor by this last 
 quotient, and subtract the product from the said divi- 
 dend, bringing down to it the next period of the given 
 number for a new dividend. 
 
 Repeat the same process over again, viz. find another 
 new divisor, by doubling all the figures now found in 
 the root, from which, and the last dividend, find the 
 next figure of the root, as before, and so on, through all 
 the periods to the last. 
 
 Kote \. If, after having brought down a period, the 
 divisor is not contained once in the dividend, exclusive 
 of its right hand figure, then a cypher must be placed 
 in the root, and also in the divisor, and another period 
 brought down. 
 
 2. The new divisors are most readily formed, by 
 adding the figure of the root last found to the last 
 divisor. 
 
 3. There will be as many decimal places in the root, 
 as there are decimal periods in the proposed number. 
 
 Example. Required the square root of 137085.0625. 
 
 1 37085.0625(370.25 the root. 
 9 
 
 67 I 470 
 7 I 469 
 
 7402 j 18506 
 2 14804 
 
 74045 
 5 
 
 370225 
 370225 
 
 148. If, after performing the operation upon a pro- 
 posed nimiber, there be a remainder, then the root 
 found is not the root of the proposed number, but of the 
 proposed number diminished by that remainder. Thus, 
 if the square root of 147 be required, by proceeding ac- 
 cording to the rule, we shall find 12 for the root, and a 
 remainder of 3 ; therefore 12 is the square root of 147 — . 
 3 = 144. 
 
 149. In such a case, we may continue the operation, 
 by annexing periods of cyphers to the number in the 
 
 form of a decimal. Thus the number 147 being writ- 
 ten 147.0000, and the operation continued, we find 12.12 
 for the root, and a remainder of 1056, that is, .1056 j 
 therefore wc conclude that 12.12 is the square root 
 of 147 — .l()56::zl 46.8944. By adding two periods of 
 cyphers more, that is, by writing the number tiius 
 147.00000000, and continuing the operation, we find 
 12.1243 for the root, and a remainder of .00134951 ; 
 from which it appears that 12.1243 is the square root 
 of 147 — .0013495 lZ3 146.99865049. 
 
 150. As each remainder will be of less value than 
 the foregoing remainder, it is manifest, that, by con- 
 tinuing the operation, wc may obtain the scjuare root of 
 a number, which diflers from the proposed luimber by 
 less than any given quantity ; and such root is to be con- 
 sidered as an approximate value of the root required. 
 It is, however, impossible to express the true value of 
 the square root of 147, by a determinate number of 
 figures ; for it will be demonstrated, (next Section) 
 that, if the square root of a whole number is not a 
 whole number, neither is it a mixt number, nor a frSc- 
 tion, vulgar or decimal. 
 
 151. The rules for finding the cube root of a com- 
 pound quantity expressed by symbols, or of a number, 
 like those for the square root, may be immediately de- 
 duced from the expression for the power of a binomial 
 or trinomial found by involution. Thus, taking the 
 cubes of n -4- 6, and of a -f 6 -f c, we have 
 
 (.a-ffi-fcj -5 4[3(a+A)^+3(«+A)r+c2>, 
 and from these formulas we derive the following rule : 
 Having arranged the terms of the given quantity, ac- 
 cording to the order of the letters, the cube root (a) of 
 its first term is the first member of the root required ; 
 subtract its cube [a'^\ from the given quantity, and divide 
 the first term (3a'A) of the remainder by (3a^) triple 
 its square ; the quotient (6) is the second member of 
 the root. Add together three times the square of the 
 first member (3a^), three times the product of the first 
 and second members (3ai), and the square of the second 
 member (6^), multiply the sum by the second member 
 (A), and subtract the product ([3a^ -fSafi+A^ji) from 
 the last remainder; and, if there be another remainder, 
 divide its first term by (3a^) triple the square of the first 
 member, the quotient c is the third member of the root. 
 Add into one sum three times the square of the sum of 
 the first and second members (3(a-)-6)^), three times 
 the product formed by multiplying the sum of the first 
 and second members by the third member (3(n-)-d)f) 
 and the square of the third member (f^), multiply the 
 sum by the third member (c), and subtract this product 
 ([3(o+d)^X3(a-f6)c + f-]f) from the last remainder; 
 and, if there be still a remainder, proceed as before, 
 always finding the new member by dividing the first 
 term of the remainder by (3a^) the triple of the square 
 of the first member. 
 
 Kxamfile 1. Required the cube root of c^-j-3n'i5+ 
 oab'^+b\ 
 
 Operation. 
 
 a^-f 3a^4+3a3'+A''(a-f 4 the root, 
 a' 
 
 3a--f 3o*-f d')3a"A + 3cd^ +b^
 
 422 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 Examjite 2. Required the cube root of the number 
 13312053. 
 
 Here it is easy to sec that the root is greater than 
 200 and less than 300 ; therefore it will be expressed 
 by three figures, the first of which is 2. Put a for the 
 hundreds in the root, (that is, for 200,) b for the tens, 
 and r for the units. Then, proceeding according to the 
 (ulc, the operation will be as follows : 
 
 13312053(200ira 
 8000000 30:^6 
 7-=.c 
 
 237 the root. 
 
 3a2r:120000 5312053 
 Sab:^ 18000 
 A3 ZZ 900 
 
 138900 
 
 4167000 
 
 3(a+6)2 = I 58700 
 
 z\a-\-b)c-=. 4830 
 
 c»z: 49 
 
 1145053 
 
 163579 
 
 1145053 
 
 The same operation, when abbreviated by leaving out 
 the ciphers, may be otherwise expressed thus : 
 
 13312053(237 the root. 
 8 
 
 5312 
 
 4167 
 
 163579 
 
 1145053 
 
 1145053 
 
 152. The foregoing rule, when adapted to the case of 
 numbers, may therefore be expressed as follows : 
 
 Rule for extracting the Cube Root of a A'umber. 
 
 1. Divide the given number into periods of three 
 figures, by setting a point over the place of vuiits, and 
 also over every third figure from thence to the left hand 
 in whole numbers, and to the right in decimals. 
 
 2. Find the nearest less cube to the first period, set its 
 root in the quotient, and subtract the said cube from the 
 first period ; to the remainder bring down the second pe- 
 riod, and call this the resolvend. 
 
 3. Divide the resolvend, neglecting the two right 
 hand figures, by three times the square of the part of 
 the root found, and the quotient is to be tried for the 
 next figure of the root, which annex to tlie former, cal- 
 ling this last figure e, and the part of the root before 
 found a. 
 
 4. Add together these three products, namely, three 
 times the square of o, three times the product of a and 
 r, and the square of c, setting each of them one place 
 more to the right than the former ; multiply the sum by 
 r, and call the result the subtrchend. which must not ex- 
 ■ecd the resolvend ; hm if it ciocs, then make the last 
 
 figure e less, and repeat the operation for finding the 
 subU'ahend, till it lie less tlian tUe resolvend. 
 
 5. From the resolvend take the subtrahend, and to the 
 remainder join the next period of the given numbci foi- 
 a new resolvend, to which form a new divisor from the 
 whole root now found, and from thence find anothei' 
 figure of the root, as directed in the 3d step of the rule, 
 and so on. 
 
 Example. Find the cube root of 48228. 544- 
 Operation. 
 
 48228.544(36.4 the rOOt 
 33=27 
 
 3X3* =27 
 
 21228 
 
 3X3X6= 54 
 
 
 6'= 36 
 
 
 
 
 3276 
 
 19656 
 
 3X35* = 3888 
 
 1 
 
 1572544 
 
 3X36X4= 432 
 
 
 4* = 16 
 
 
 3931 
 
 36 
 
 1572544 
 
 153. If, after all the periods are brought down, there 
 be a remainder, then, as has been obsen'ed in the case 
 of the square root, (§ 148.) the root found is not that of 
 the proposed number, but the root of a number which is 
 less than the proposed number by the remainder. We 
 may, however, continually approximate to the rooot of 
 the proposed number, by adding periods of ciphers, and 
 continuing the operation ; but we can never obtain the 
 root exactly, as will be shown in the next Section. 
 
 154. If the terms of a fraction are either both com- 
 plete squares, or complete cubes, then its square, or 
 cube root, will be a fraction, whose terms are the 
 
 square, or cube roots of its terms. Thus / — = — ; 
 
 ^9 3 
 
 and 
 
 ^27 
 
 155. If the terms are not complete powers, the fraction 
 may be reduced to a decimal, and the root found by the 
 rules, (§ 147 and 152.) Or the fraction may be changed 
 into another of equal value, whose denominator is a 
 complete square or cube, and then the root of the pro- 
 posed fraction will be found by dividing the root of the 
 numerator of its new value by its own denominator. For 
 
 „• „„ a ab _, - la lab s/ab , 
 
 smce — = — therefore / — = / — —— ; also, be- 
 
 6 A2' *J b ** b'- b 
 
 a ab^^, r 3 / a 3 /ab^ \/7b* 
 
 cause — = — therefore / — = / — ,=-ii — 
 
 b b^, V i V i!.^ 6 ■ 
 
 156. If the numerator and denominator of a fraction, 
 reduced to its lowest terms, are not both complete 
 powers of the same denomination as the root required, 
 then it is impossible to obtain any other than an ap- 
 proximate value of its root. 
 
 157. Because the fourth power of any quantity is the 
 square of its square, therefore, on the contrary, the 
 fourth root of a quantity of any kind is the square root 
 of its square root.
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 423 
 
 158. Particular rules, for liiuling the fifth or any 
 liigher root of a compound ([uantily or number, may be 
 investigated in a manner altogether similar to that in 
 which we have found rules for the square and cube 
 roots. They will, however, be the more complex, ac- 
 cording as the root is of a higher denomination. 
 
 159. The most expeditious method of finding any 
 root of a number is by the help of a table of logaritlims. 
 And if the root be required to a greater degree of ac- 
 curacy than can be obtained by the table, then recourse 
 may be had to the method of approximation. See § 292 
 of this treatise. 
 
 Sect. VI. Of Surds. 
 
 160. The operation of evolution brings under our con- 
 sideration a kind of quantities unknown in the more ele- 
 mentary operations of arithmetic ; namely, such roots as 
 cannot be expressed in finite terms by numbers : for ex- 
 
 1 
 ample, the square root of 2, that is v'^, or 2'^,alsothe 
 
 cube root of 4, that is, \/4, or 4^. These roots, which 
 have evidently a real existence, although they cannot be 
 expressed by number, are called surds, and sometimes 
 •rrational quantities. 
 
 161. We propose in this Section to show how the 
 operations performed on common numbers may also be 
 performed on surds : But, in the first place, it will be 
 proper to prove, that there are quantities whicli cannot 
 have their roots expressed by numbers, and of which no 
 otlier than approximate values can be found. The de- 
 monstration of this important property of numbers re- 
 quires us to make some preliminary remarks, and to 
 demonstrate another general Theorem concerning num- 
 bers. 
 
 A whole number is said to be a divisor of a whole 
 number, when the former is contained in the latter a cer- 
 taui number of times exactly. Thus, 2 and 3 are divi- 
 sors of 6. 
 
 If a whole number have no whole divisor except itself 
 and unity, it is called a. prime number. Thus, the num- 
 bers, 2, 3,5, 7, 1 1, &c, are prime numbers. Two num- 
 bers are said to be firime to each other, when they have 
 no common divisor except unity. Thus, the numbers 
 IS and 16, which are neither of them prime numbers, are 
 prime to each other. 
 
 When a fraction is reduced to its lowest terms, or 
 when its terms are prime to one another, then the terms 
 of every fraction equal to it are equimultiples of its 
 
 terms. Let— be such a fraction, then the only fractions 
 
 which can be equal to it are of this form,-^^, where n 
 
 nx9 
 denotes any whole number whatever, as is evident. 
 
 162. Theorem. The Product of Tivo or more Prime 
 lumbers ca)i have no Prime Divisor which is not one of 
 those JVumiers. 
 
 First, let there be two prime numbers, A and B, of 
 which the product is AB, and let P be a prime number, 
 which is a divisor of that product ; then shall P be equal 
 either to A or to B ; that is, if P is not equal to A, it 
 shall be equal to B. 
 
 T- , AB Am 
 
 lor let— — — =n, a whole number, then, --=rTr-^ow, 
 " r B, 
 
 the terms of the fraction — being supposed unequal 
 prime numbers, the fraction must be in its lowest terms ; 
 therefore, the terms of the fraction -^ must cither be 
 
 equal to the terms of the fraction — , each to each, or must 
 
 be equimultiples of them : But B, being a prime num- 
 ber, cannot be a multiple of P, tlicrefore B must be 
 equal to P. Therefore, if P, which is a divisor of AB, 
 is not equal to A, it must be equal to B. 
 
 Next, suppose there are three prime numbers, A, B, 
 C, and that P is a prime number, and a divisor of their 
 product, then shall P be equal to one or other of the 
 numbers A, B, C : That is, if P is equal neither to A 
 nor to B, it is equal to C. 
 
 P^^, .ABC ,, AB 71 
 
 tor let — ?!,thcn^ — _. 
 
 P "~ P — C 
 
 Now, since A, B, and 
 
 P are prime numbers, and P is neither equal to A nor 
 to B, it cannot be a divisor of AB (from the preceding 
 
 part of this demonstration) ; thcr'^fore the fraction _-— 
 
 is in its lowest terms, and hence C must cither be equal 
 to P, or a multiple ol P ; but C being a prime number, 
 cannot be a multiple of P ; therefore C is equal to P. 
 
 In like manner, we may pass from the case of three 
 factors to that of lour ; and from the case of four to that 
 of five ; and so on to any number of factors. 
 
 163. CoROLL.\iiY. Hence it appears, that if two num- 
 bers, m and ti, be prime to each other, then their squares, 
 or any powers of them, are also prime to each other. 
 For as any number m is either prim*, or the product of 
 a set of prime numbers, and (as appears from the fore- 
 going theorem), of only one set, therefore its succes- 
 sive powers TO^, ?«% &c. will also be each the product 
 of a single set of prime numbers, and will have no 
 prime divisor which is not also a prime divisor of 7ii. In 
 like manner, a power of n can have no prime divisor 
 which is not a divisor of 7i ; therefore, when the num- 
 bers 711 and 71 are prime to each other, any powers of 
 them must also be prime to each other. 
 
 164. We can now demonstrate, that if the square, 
 cube, or any higher root of a whole nia/iber, is not a whole 
 numbn; 7ieither is it a f-action. For if the square root 
 of a whole number n is not a whole number, suppose 
 
 it, if possible, to he a fraction, -, which is reduced 
 
 o 
 
 2 
 
 to its lowest terms ; then tj^^" a whole number ; but 
 a and 6 being prime to each other, a^ and 6^ will also 
 
 2 
 
 be prime to each other, (§ 1 65), so that tt cannot be a 
 
 whole number; therefore the square root of the whole 
 number n cannot be a fraction. And as the same reason- 
 ing applies equally to the cube or higher roots, we may 
 infer, that if any root whatever of a wliole number is not 
 a whole number, neither is such root a fraction. 
 
 165. Again, af)-action can have no square root, unless, 
 when reduced to its lowest terms, its numerator and de- 
 7io7>ii7iator are both square 7iu/nbe7-s ; nor cube root, unless 
 they are both cube nu7nbtrs, and so on. For, if possible, 
 
 let the square root of - be - (both fractions being in
 
 424 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 their lowest terms); tlicn, -=— ; but this last fraction 
 
 is also in its lowest terms (§ 163). Therefore, m and a^ 
 must be identical, as also 7i and 6-; that is, ?n and n must 
 l)c s(|uare numbers. The very same mode of reasoning 
 applies to any other power. 
 
 166. It is an evident consequence of what has been 
 demonstrated in the two last articles, that such quanli- 
 
 /- 
 
 lies as ^/3, or ■;^6, or V 3, &c. cannot be expressed by 
 
 numbers, and also that they cannot contain any part 
 whatever either of a whole number or a fraction, an 
 exact number of times ; in the same manner, for ex- 
 ample, as 10 contains the third part of 6 five times, or 
 
 2 . 8 . 
 
 - contains the fourth part of -— seven times. In other 
 
 3 21 
 
 words, it is impossible to find a common measure of 
 any such quantity and a number. On this account, these 
 quantities are called incomntcnsurubli-s. 
 
 167. It will sometimes be convenient to express a ra- 
 tional quantity in the form of a surd. This may be done 
 by raising the quantity to a power denoted by the index 
 of the surd, and prefixing the radical sign, with the index 
 of the surd, to the result; or else denoting the same 
 thing by a fractional index. Thus, 3 expressed as the 
 
 square root of a number will be ^3x5=^9 or 9^' And 
 
 2x^ expressed as a cube root, will be \/8x° or (8x5)3" 
 
 168. The operations concerning surds depend on the 
 following principle : If the numerator and denominator 
 of a fractional exponent be both multiplied or both divi- 
 ded by the same quantity, the value of the power is the 
 
 VI mc m 
 
 same; that is, a" =a'"^ . For let a"=6 ; then, raising 
 both to the power n., n"'=6", and raising both sides of 
 this last equation to the power c, a"'^=b"\ and extract- 
 
 ing the root whose index is nc, a" ='b'=a" . 
 
 The operations which may be performed on surds are 
 contained in the following Problems : 
 
 169. Prob. I. To reduce surds of different denomina- 
 tions to others of the same value, and of the same deno- 
 mination. 
 
 Rule. Reduce the fractional exponents to others of 
 the same value, and having the same common denomi- 
 nator. 
 
 Example. Reduce t/a and X/b^, that is, a* and b^ 
 to equivalent surds of the same denomination. 
 
 Here the fractional indices i and |, when reduced to 
 others having a common denominator, are | and | ; 
 
 _3 4 
 
 therefore, a^ and 4^ or \/a^ and ^/S* are the surds re- 
 quired. 
 
 17(1. Prob. 2. To reduce surds to their most simple 
 terms. 
 
 Rule. Find the greatest power contained in the 
 given surd, and set its root before the remaining quan- 
 tities, with the proper radical sign between them. 
 
 Ex. 1. Reduce v'48 to its most simple terms. 
 
 The greatest square contained in 48 is 16=:42. 
 
 Therefore, ^48 = \/lTx3=^16Xv/3=4^o. 
 /«3 
 
 Ex. 2. Reduce V y and (32a« — 96n'.rV, each to its 
 
 most simple terms. 
 
 a'a 
 
 /"' It I" 
 
 3, V fz=,/a^y.slj=a-Jj, 
 
 Because j= y , therefore, v f=t^a'y^^ f=A\} j\ 
 
 Or, sbce y —J^xnf, therefore, ^~J=J^af. And be- 
 cause 52a«— 96aSx=2SaS(a— 3x), therefore, (32o«— ^96 
 1 1 
 
 a5x)^=2a(a — 3x)'^. 
 
 171. Prob. 3. To add and subtract surds. 
 
 Rule. Reduce the surds, if possible, to such a form 
 (by Prob. 1 and 2), that the part affected by the radical 
 sign or fractional index shall be the same in them all. 
 Then, considering the part of each without the sign aS 
 a coefiicient, take their sum, or difference, as is usual 
 with other quantities. 
 
 If however, the radical quantities cannot be brought 
 to the same form, the surds can only be added or sub- 
 tracted by connecting them by the signs 4- and — . 
 
 Ex. 1. It is required to add .^72 and .^128 together. 
 
 First, by Prob. 2. ^72=V'9X8=3v'8, and v'128:= 
 V'l6x8=:4.^8 ; therefore, ^72-f ^128=3v'8-f 4^8 
 = 7v'8. 
 
 Ex. 2. Required the difference between ^Tta^x and 
 2v^ 3arr3. _ 
 
 ^27«<- t=.3n 2^3. r,and 2^3a2x3=2axV3x ; therefore, 
 ,/lla^x — 2v'3a2x3=3a2.y3x — 2axv'3l=(3a2 — 2ax) 
 .^3x. 
 
 172. Prob. 4. To multiply and divide surds. 
 
 Rule. If they are surds of the same rational quantity, 
 add and subtract their exponents. 
 
 If they are surds of different rational quantities, let 
 them be bi-ought to others of the same denomination, if 
 already they are not, by Problem 1. Then, multiplying 
 or dividing these rational quantities, their product or 
 quotient may be set under the common radical sign. 
 
 If the surds have any rational coefficients, their pro- 
 duct or quotient must be prefixed. 
 
 Ex. 1 . Required the product of V2 and \/2. 
 Here V^X V2=2^X23=2«x2^=:2^=:^2S=:t'32. 
 Ex. 2. Required the product of 2^10 and 4^12. 
 Here 23ylOx4\/12 s= 2 X 4X V'OX'2=8^8xl5= 
 16^15. 
 
 Ex. 3. Divide \/a by V^. 
 
 Here, reducing the surds to the same denomination, 
 
 J. _3_ 1 J -*_ 
 
 we have V = «■*="'* = C«')''^> and ^4=4''=6i»=: 
 
 Ex. 4. Multiply v'Ca+i) by y/{a~-b) 
 Here^(a-t-i-)Xv'(c— A)=x/{(a + 6)(a_i5)}=v^(a2-.68). 
 
 Ex. 5. Divide a\/x by b\/y. 
 
 Here, reducing "^x and \/y to the same denomina- 
 j. ^ - 
 
 tion, we have \/x or x'"=(x")'nn, and ^^y or y"=r 
 
 
 V-- /- 
 
 (i/™)mn, therefore b"/y 
 
 173. It will often be convenient not to bring the surds 
 to the same denomination, but to express their product 
 or quotient without the radical sign, in the same manner 
 
 as if they were rational quantities. Thus, the product 
 
 i t 
 of ".ya and s^b may be expressed simply thus a" b^.
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 425 
 
 174. If a rational coefficient be prefixed to a radical 
 sign, it may be reduced to the form of a surd, by § 167. 
 and multiplied by this problem. Thus a^b^ by j^pres- 
 sing a as a square root, becomes ^/a* y.\/b=Zy/a^b. 
 
 175. Sometimes it is convenient to resolve surds into 
 their simple factors, thus \/ab:^s/ay.s/bi and v/(a2 — 
 x'')=.^{a + x)Xy/{a—x). 
 
 176. Prob. 4. To involve or evolve surds. 
 
 This is performed by the same rules as in other quan- 
 tities, by multiplying or dividing their exponents by the 
 index of the power or root required. 
 
 Tlius the square of \/S, or of 5^, is 5^=:(5^)^= V^^- 
 
 1 m 
 
 The OTth power of ar" is ar" . 
 
 X » 
 Tlie cube root of x/7, or 7^, is 7^-=.\/7. 
 i_ _i_ 
 
 The 7/!th root of x" is x"'" . 
 
 177. If the surd have a rational coefficient, its power 
 or root must be prefixed to the like power or root of the 
 
 i. 1 
 
 surd. Thus the square of 2^a, or 2a3 is ia^zzzll/a" ; 
 
 J. .1. 
 
 and the cube root of }y/a, or ^a^, is in°, or W/a. 
 
 178. Any power whatever of a compound quantity 
 containing one or more surds may be found by repeated 
 multiplication, in the same manner as the like power of 
 any other compound quantity. 
 
 179. In some cases, the square root of a binomial, 
 one of whose terms is a quadratic surd, and the other a 
 rational quantity, may be expressed by another binomial, 
 one or both of whose terms are quadratic surds. 
 
 That we may investigate a rule to determine when this 
 can be effected, let c+\/6 denote the given binomial, 
 and /i-i-rj its root. Then, because \/{a-{-\/''i)':zi/i-j-i/, 
 by squaring these equals, we get « + \/i~/;^+'/^-f 2/;y. 
 Now,/; and q being either one or both quadratic surds, 
 /i^ and g^ will be rational, and 2/iii irrational. Assume 
 therefore /i' -)-y^~a, and 2/;./zr\/6 ; then, subtracting 
 the squares of the sides of the latter equation from the 
 squares of the corresponding sides of the former, we 
 have /i4_2/!^/^+7''— (z^— i. But fi*—2/i''</^+'/^ is 
 the square of /i"^ — ?^, as may be proved by involution, 
 therefore (/i- — g^)'ZZa^—b, and consequently, taking 
 the square roots of both sides, /;" — i/^~v''(a^ — *); thus 
 we have the difference of /i^ and y^ expressed by the 
 given quantities a and A ; but since by assumption /i^-|- 
 g^^a, we have also their sum expressed by the same 
 given quantities, thei-efore, proceeding as in Ex. 1, § 122, 
 
 we shall find fi ZZ. — — ^^ i-, and q z^ ^ -, 
 
 hence,=y {'^±^^1 ,.n,,=J 1"-=^) 
 Therefore the square root oi a + ^b is 
 
 V I 2 3 +V I 2 3 ' 
 
 from which formula it appears, that a^ — b must have an 
 exact square root when the square root of o + x/* admits 
 of being expressed in the manner required. 
 
 In like manner, we find that the square root of n^— 
 
 /A is /$ ° + v/("'-^) ? /S ° "(°^-^) ? 
 
 ^ V i 2 S "~V ? 2 5 ■ 
 
 Suppose that the square root of 8 + 2x/7zz8 + s/28 
 is required ; here az:8,/>:i:28,c^ — 6—36, >/(«" — *)lZ6, 
 and in this case the root is x/7+ 1 . 
 
 Vol. I. Part I. 
 
 180. If any term of an equation be a surd, the irra- 
 tionality of that term may be taken away, Ijy bringing it 
 to stand alone on one side of the equation, and raising 
 each side to such a power as is denoted by the index of 
 the surd. For example, let the equation be 3\/{x'' — 
 
 Then 3^{x^—a^):=:a—y, 
 
 And by squaring, 9(jr^ — a^)^{a — y)'', 
 
 That is 9x^ — 9a^3:a' — 2ai/+!/% 
 
 And in this equation the terms are all rational. 
 
 For another method of freeing an equation from surds, 
 see § 257. • 
 
 Sect. VII. 0/ Quadratic lujuarion^. 
 
 181. We have already stated, that equations, contain- 
 ing only one unknown quantity, are divided into orders, 
 according to the highest power of that quantity contain- 
 ed in any one of their terms. And we have shown how 
 to resolve one class, namely, simple equations, whicli 
 involve only the first power of the unknown quantity. 
 We come now to treat of equations of the second order, 
 called also quadratic equations, which contain the se- 
 cond power of the unknown quantity. 
 
 182. When an equation of any order contains only 
 one power of the unknown quantity, such equation is 
 said to be fiure ; but if it contain more than one power, 
 it is said to be affected. 
 
 Tlierefore a" -\-ax'^'ZZ.b'^ and ax 
 pure quadratic equations ; but x^ — 
 ZZcx-\-d are affected quadratic equations. 
 
 183. To resolve a pure quadratic equation, it is only 
 necessary to bring the square of the imknown quantity 
 to stand alone on one side of the equation, so that the 
 other may consist entirely of known quantities, and then 
 to take the square root of each side. 
 
 ^ — b^'ZZm^ +x" are 
 -ax'ZZb^ and ax 4-*-^" 
 
 Thus, if — - — 7ZZ5, then— =5+7^12, and x-^^Se, 
 
 and taking the square root x^-{-6, or x^zz — 6; for by 
 tlie rule for multiplication 36 is equally the product of 
 + 6 multiplied by -f 6, and of — 6 multiplied by — 6. 
 
 It is usual to indicate this two-fold value of the square 
 root of a quantity thus, jrzr=±=6. 
 
 184. Every affected quadratic equation may, by the 
 rules of art. 107, be reduced to one orotherof the three 
 following forms : 
 
 '■—fix:z:q, 
 '—fix=r-g, 
 
 where x denotes the unknown quantity, and fi and y 
 known quantities. As however the manner of resolving 
 each of these three equations is the very same, it will 
 be sufficient if we consider the first of them. 
 
 185. Therefore, taking the equation x^ -\-/ix^g, let 
 the square of half the coefficient of x in its second 
 
 term, viz 
 
 comes 
 
 - — , be added to each side of it, and it be- 
 
 x'+ilX^f!l.—tl+q. 
 4 4 
 
 3 H
 
 4:26 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 15 ul ihc lelt luinil side of this equation is now a complete 
 square, viz. the square of jr+^, as may be proved by 
 
 multiplying .v+- by itself, therefore the same equation 
 
 may be otherwise expressed, thus, 
 
 Let the square root of both sides be now taken, and 
 we have 
 
 where the sign =±= indicates that the quantity before 
 which it is placed is to be taken either as positive or as 
 MCgativc. Hence, by transposition, we have 
 
 ~.— — — , • ^ ■^~ — ■ ■ ■ • 
 
 Here the unknown (juantity is made to stand alone on 
 one side, and therefore the equation is resolved. 
 
 186. The process, by which this solution has been 
 obtained, may be given in the form of a practical rule, 
 as follows : 
 
 Transpose all the terms involving the unknown quan- 
 tity to one side, and the known terms to the other, and 
 so that the term containing the square of the unknown 
 quantity may be positive. 
 
 If the square of the unknown quantity is multiplied 
 by any coefficient, all the terms of the equation are to be 
 divided by it, so that the coefficient of the square of the 
 unknown quantity maybe 1. 
 
 Add to both sides the square of half the coefficient of 
 the unknown quantity in the second term, and the side of 
 the equation involving the unknown quantity will then 
 be a complete square. 
 
 Extract the square root froni both sides of the equa- 
 tion, by which it becomes simple, and by transposing 
 the above-mentioned half coefficient, the value of the 
 iniknown quantity is obtained in known terms, and there- 
 fore the equation is resolved. 
 
 Ex. 1. Suppose the equation to be x^+3.r=:28. In 
 this case, the coefficient of x in the second term is 3. 
 
 Therefore, adding the square of ^ to each side, we have 
 4 
 
 )00t. 
 
 that IS, x; 
 
 4 
 
 ^ , 3___j_n 
 
 2 2 
 
 ,_1— ^ + 11 — 
 
 ; and extracting the square 
 
 11, 
 
 , and transposing, a:^ — - ~^t - 
 —3—11 
 
 -=+4, orxZT^r — -——7. That 
 
 both these values of x satisfy the equation x- -f 3jr:^28 
 will immediately appear, by substituting them separately 
 instead of .r ; for 4x4 + 3x4zrl6-t-12— 28,and — 7X— r 
 — 3xT=49— 21=28. 
 
 Rx.1. Let the equation be x" — 4x:z:60. Here the 
 coefficient of the first power of the ir.nknown quantity is 4. 
 
 Therefore, adding the square of — , or of 2 to each 
 
 side, we get x" — 4x4-4^60-1-4=64, and extracting the 
 square root, x — 2rr=±=8 ; hence x==±=8-j-2^:-(-10, 
 or 6. The ti-uth of this conclusion may be proved as 
 
 before, by substituting the numbers — 6 and -|-10 in- 
 stead of X in the proposed equation. Thus we iiave 
 10x10 — 4x104-100 — 40=00,3180 — 6X — 6 — 4X — 6ZZ 
 36 + 24r:60. 
 
 1.x. 3. Let the equation be 25x — 25x^:=4, then 
 changing the signs of the terms, and dividing by 25, we 
 
 4 
 have x"^ — x= — —. Here the coefficient of x is I ; 
 
 therefore we must add the square of - to each side, and 
 
 , ,1 4 1 —16 
 
 the equation becomes x — ^■\--'=. — ;rr4- — ^ -rrr + 
 
 Re \ii ^ 100 
 
 25 9 , ... , 1 _^ 
 
 1^ , therefore takmtr the square root, x ==t= 
 
 100 100 & 1 '2 
 
 3 , 1^3 4 ',,r,-, . 
 
 — , and x'^. — =±^ — ^ — , or — , both ot which values 
 lo' 2 10 5 ' 5 
 
 satisfy the equation lix — 25x'=4 ; for 25 x 1^-1^— 
 
 1 1 
 
 :i:20 — 16:=4; and 25 X 25X— zr5 — izr4. 
 
 187. Although it is sufficiently evident, from the fort- 
 going general solution, as well as from the three particu- 
 lar examples, that in every affected quadratic equation, 
 the unknown quantity has two distinct values, which 
 equally satisfy that equation, yet as this plurality of roots 
 is a remarkable property of equations, which however is 
 by no means peculiar to quadratics, (as will appear when 
 we come to treat of equations of the third and fourth 
 degrees), we shall, with a view of shewing distinctly 
 the reason of this peculiarity, resolve the equation 
 .7:^-|-/).] y somewhat differently, as follows. 
 
 Let the terms of the equation be brought all to one 
 side, then it will be of this fomr : 
 
 X" -f-/'x — (7=0. 
 Assume now xzzy — \ /), then we have 
 
 +Ax=-f/,i/— i/i% 
 — y= — </, 
 
 and hence, adding these equations, 
 
 x'^-\-]\x — q=y'^ — i/i^ — q=a. 
 
 Put xy^q=r\ so that r=y(l/.^-f y)=>^^±l2) . 
 
 Then we have 7/^ — r==0; but t^^ — r^=(!/-f r)(i/ — r), 
 as may be proved by actual multiplication ; therefore 
 
 (y+'0(!/— '•)=o, 
 
 or, since x=j/ — |/z, and therefore i)=.xA-\Pt 
 (x4-^/,4-r)(x-f-A/;— r)=0. 
 
 Now the product of two quantities can only be ZTO when 
 one or other of the factors is equal to ; therefore it is 
 manifest, that we shall equally satisfy the equation 
 x^-f/ix — y=0, or its equivalent 
 
 (x + ^ /, -J-r) (x -1-^ /2— r) =0, 
 by assuming either x + i//-(-r=0, orx-|-|/.' — rZiO ; that 
 is, by giving to x either of those values, and restoring 
 the value of r, 
 
 — /, = v/(/r4-t'/) 
 
 x= — 4 /'-!-'•= 
 
 x= — IP — r: 
 
 _/,_v/(/,°-|-4y) 
 ■ 2 
 
 which are the same as we found in § 185.
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 427 
 
 -'!■ 
 
 188. A quantity which, wlicn substituted Instead of 
 the unknown quantity in any equation, makes both sides 
 of that eq\iation equal, (or which g-ives a rcsvilt ~C), 
 when all the terms arc brought to one side,) is called a 
 root of that equation. From the solutions we have t^iven 
 of the quadratic equation -c^ -f/'-f — '/I^O, it appears, that 
 every such equation has two roots; and that, if these be 
 denoted by a and b, then 
 
 X ^ -\-lix—q = {x—a) (x—b) ; 
 
 SO that the quadratic equation x^ -f //a- — y=0 may be 
 regarded as the product of the two simple equations 
 X — c=0, and x — A=0. 
 
 Because a= — 5/' + j -v/ (/'" 4--^';)> and bzz — | /' 
 — i V^ (/' ^ + 4 '/ )>" thcretorc a -f A= — •/;, and a b =. 
 
 Therefore, in any quadratic equation :t- -f-/;x=y, the 
 sum of the two roots is equal to — /;, or to the coef- 
 ficient of the unknown quantity having its sign changed, 
 and their product to — y, or to the known side of the 
 equation having its sign changed. 
 
 189. As the square of a negative quantity, as well as 
 the square of a positive quantity, is a positive quantity, 
 it follows that a negative quantity cannot be the square 
 of a quantity either positive or negative. Now, in the 
 fornuila — 1/;=±=^^(/;^ +4y), which expresscsthc roots 
 of the quadratic equation x'' +//x^:y, if the quantity q 
 be negative, and such that 4y is greater than/j'', so that 
 /i"-f4f/ is a negative quantity, then the radical quantity 
 v/(/;^+4'/) is the square root of a negative quantity. 
 Butwc have just now shown, that no such quantity can 
 exist; therefore, in this case, the formula lor the roots 
 becomes an expression of calculation without any mean- 
 ing. 
 
 If we inquire into the cause of the expressions for the 
 root having this form, in the case of q being negative, 
 and /r ..^^Aq, we shall find it to be an impossible suppo- 
 sition contained in the equation. For, in this case the 
 equation is j."-|-/ia:ii: — q ; from which, by resolving the 
 equation as in §185. we get (•>+5/')"=4/'^=!/ '"'d 
 fr — 4.f/:i:l.(.r-f 1//)^. Now /i^ and 4(.r + |/;)^ must be 
 both positive quantities ; and since /i^ — 47= a positive 
 (|uantity, we must h?i\e /rz^iq- But by hypothesis /2' 
 is also less than 47, which is impossible. 
 
 190. Although the equation .r2-|-/;,rZZ — q or x'^-\-fix-\- 
 q=0 involves in it a contradiction when /(^..i^4i/ ; yet it 
 will be found that each of the expressions=J/;-)- V (/j^ — 
 Aq) and — \t' — I '^ i^'^ — ^y)' '^^■'len substituted for x satis- 
 fies the equation, or makes the whole vanish, and there- 
 fore may be called a root of that equation. Such equa- 
 tions are said to be imfiossible, and their roots are called 
 imjiossible or hnaginary quantities. 
 
 If we put m for — 1/;, and n"^ for iq — fi'^ , so that — n'^ 
 :^/i~ — 4(/, then these roots will become m-i-t/ — ?;- and 
 m — j^ — »'' or m + ?!>/ — 1 and m — n^/ — 1, and in these 
 expressions the quantities ni and n are real, and the 
 quantity v^ — !> oi' rather the expression \/ — I, is imagi- 
 nary, and merely a symbol serving to denote that the 
 equation from which it is derived is impossible. 
 
 191. Besides those impossible quantities, which have 
 their origin in a want of agreement of the data, there are 
 others which occur, when, in resolving a problem, the 
 1 onditions of which are perfectly consistent with one 
 another, we make an assumption which is either incon- 
 sistent with the data, or with some other step of the so- 
 lution. The impossible expressions produced from this 
 
 cause differ essentially from those which arise from an 
 incongruity of the data ; for, while the latter do not ex- 
 press any real quantity whatever, the former actually 
 express real ([uantities, because, although they involve 
 the impossible symbol V — 1, yet by employing suitable 
 transformations they may at last be entirely freed from 
 it. 
 
 To give an example of the origin and nature of this 
 second species of impossible expressions, let us suppose- 
 that in some incpiiry the values of two unknown ([uanti- 
 tics X and tj are to be determined from these equations 
 
 .r ^ -f w 1/ ' ZZrt , xy^b, 
 
 where n, a, and b, denote given numbers. 
 
 Let both sides of the second equation be multiplied 
 by the known quantity '2\/ii, and then added to, and also 
 subtracted from, the corresponding sides of the first ; 
 the results are 
 
 x^ +2xyy/n+irn:z:a + 2b^!!, 
 x^ — 2xyy/n-\-y''nZZ(i — 2by/n, 
 
 Now the left hand side of the first of these equations is 
 manifestly the square o( x + yA/n, and that of the second 
 tlie square of x — y^/n ; therefore, extracting the square 
 root, 
 
 x+yy/!!ZZ^{n + 2b^ii), 
 X — y \/ n-^Zy/ (ti — 2by/n), 
 
 From these equations, by taking the sum and difference 
 we find 
 
 '2y<^n—^/{a + 2b.Jn)—y/[a—2by/n) ; 
 and consequently, 
 
 x=l[^{a + 2b^n) + ^{a—2b^n)] 
 y=:^^^{a + 2b^n)-^{a-2b^n)]. 
 
 Thus we have obtained general expressions for x and y 
 corresponding to any values of n, a, and b whatever. 
 
 Let us now suppose that from these expressions it is 
 required to determine x and ;/ in the particular case of 
 n^\, that is, when the original equations are 
 
 then, as in this case v/" = I, our general formulas give 
 
 ^=i[x/(a-t-26) + v/(a— 26)1 
 y=i[V(«+2«)— x/(a— 2A)] 
 
 which expressions, provided 2b.t:^a are always real. 
 
 Let us next suppose that the values of x and y are to 
 be found from the general formulas, when the original 
 equation are 
 
 in which case iiz^-^\. Here, however, our formulas 
 
 fail; for to apply them we must find the square root of 
 n, that is of — 1, which is impossible. They still, how- 
 ever, give us general expressions for x and y ; for put- 
 ting \/— 1 instead of \/«, they become 
 
 a:=A[^/(<z-t-26y— 1 ) + v/(«— 26^— 1)], 
 
 but as these values of .f and y involve the symbol ■>/ — 1, 
 no conclusion whatever can be deduced from them in 
 their present form. 
 
 Although, at first sight, these values oi x and y might 
 be supposed to be expressions of the very same nature 
 3 H 2
 
 428 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 as those wlilcli lia\c been louiul in § 190 fur the roots of 
 a quadratic ctiualion in that particular case where the 
 roots become impossible, yet this is by no means the 
 case, for these values of x and ij, noUviliistandiug their 
 imaginaiy form, arc in fact the expressions of real quan- 
 tities. To be convinced of this we have only to take 
 their squares, and afterwards the square roots of these 
 squares; thus we have 
 
 3 ^r-. il'2a—2^{a-+ib')l 
 
 =i[2v'(a^-f4A^)— 2a], 
 Vv'(«'+4A2)+a 
 
 'J 
 
 
 and these expressions for x and y are free from the ima- 
 ginary symbol v/ — 1) and always real, whatever be the 
 values of n and b. 
 
 To be assured of the correctness of these last formu- 
 las, we may find the values of x and y from the equa- 
 tions x^ — !/^=nj -^^1/=*) Otherwise as follows. Let four 
 times the squares of the sides of the second equation be 
 added to the squares of the sides of the first equation ; 
 the result is 
 
 x*+1ix^i/+y*=a''+'ib'', 
 hence, taking the square root, 
 
 From this equation, and the equation x- — y^ =a, by ta- 
 king their sum and difference, and afterwards dividing 
 by 2, and extracting the square root, we get 
 
 rx/(a' -f44"-)-fo 
 -2 ' 
 
 '~*J 2 
 
 the same as before. 
 
 192. It is easy to see, that the symbol V — 1 has en- 
 tered into the formulas which express the values of x 
 and y, (as deduced from the equations x^+ny^=a, xy 
 =6) in consequence of our having extended a solution, 
 obtained upon the hypothesis of n being a positive quan- 
 tity, to the case in which n is negative ; and it also ap- 
 pears, that unless we had done this, we must have had 
 recourse to a different mode of solution. Now there 
 are various other analytic inquiries in which the same 
 thing happens, that is, if we suppose some one of the 
 quantities to be positive, then the mode of investigation 
 is obvious and easy ; but that quantity being, on the con- 
 trary, supposed negative, a quite different mode of in- 
 vestigation must be resorted to, if wc wish to avoid the 
 introduction of the imaginary sign ; and in general this 
 last mode is neither so obvious nor so elegant as the 
 other, but, on the contrary, much more laborious. 
 
 193. As the formulas which express real quantities, 
 while at the same time they involve the imaginary sym- 
 bol V — I, may, as we have already observed, be ulti- 
 mately transformed into others entirely free from that 
 symbol ; and as these transformed expressions agree in 
 every case with the conclusions obtained by other modes 
 of investigation, mathematicians in general do not hesi- 
 tate to employ such impossible expressions in their in- 
 
 quiries, and to proceed with them in their calculations, 
 in all respects as if they were I'eal <|uantiues. 
 
 It nmst be confessed, however, that the use of sym- 
 bols, which have no precise ideas connected with tlicm, 
 seems hardly admissible in a science whose distinguish- 
 ing characteristics are the accuracy of its modes of rea- 
 soning, and the certainty of its conclusions. The best 
 reason that can be given for employing them in the pre- 
 sent state of the science, seems to be the facility with 
 which many of the most important and least obvious of 
 matliematical truths may be deduced from expressions 
 in which they occur ; and indeed it has been found im- 
 practicable to establish the truth of some propositions 
 in any other way. 
 
 The constant agreement of the conclusions deduced 
 from imaginary expressions, with those obtained by the 
 most strict methods of mathematical investigation, 
 seems to leave no room to doubt that it depends upon 
 determinate principles, which admit of being accurately 
 explained. It is much to be desired that these were 
 better understood than they seem to be at present; for 
 those writers who have treated expressly of tliem, are 
 by no means agreed in opinion as to what they arc. 
 We forbear at present from entering into a detail of 
 their different theories, intending to return to the sub- 
 ject when we come to the article Imaginary Expres- 
 sions ; and we then expect to be able to avail ourselves 
 of the views of an ingenious friend,* who has for up- 
 wards of six years past, been in possession of a theory 
 relating to the subject, which we have some reason to 
 expect may be given to the public before we arrive at 
 that part of our work. 
 
 194. As in the course of this treatise, as well as in 
 other mathematical articles, we may have occasion to 
 perform operations on impossible quantities, it may be 
 proper to give a few examples here of such operations. 
 
 Because -J — a=-i/aXy/ — 1, and y' — b=L^bx>/ — I, 
 
 V— c+V— 4=(V« + VA)v'— 1, 
 
 and y — a — ^/ — b=(y/a — \/b)-J — 1. 
 Also -J — axV — b = y/ay,'Jb-K\f — IXv/ — I. But VaX 
 ^b=i^/ab,M\i y/ — 1 X V — I ■= — 1- Therefore, 
 ^ — a X n/ — b=i/abx — 1 = — ^/ab. 
 
 Again, 
 
 v/- 
 
 ■v/cXv/ — 1 
 
 ^—b v/Ax— x/r 
 
 ■A, therelore 
 
 rX- 
 
 -^b-^ v/— 1 
 
 But 
 
 v/— 1 
 
 >/— 6 v'd 
 
 195. Questions ftroducing Quadratic Equations. 
 
 Ex. 1. Required a number the half of which being 
 multiplied by its third may produce 24. 
 
 JC > 
 
 Let the number be x, then its half is-, and its third 
 
 X . x^ 
 
 -, and the product of these is -— . 
 o o 
 
 x^ 
 Therefore— 1=24. 
 6 
 
 And midtiplying by 6, j7-^24x6r:144 
 
 And extracting the? ^ , -(jj, — >— lo 
 
 square root, 5 
 
 Thus the answer is either -f-12 or — 12. 
 
 Mr James Ivor)', of the Royal Military College.
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 429 
 
 Ex. 2. Required two numbers, the product of which 
 may be 24, and the sum of the tjrcatcr and half the less 7. 
 
 Let X and y denote the numbers. Then the question 
 gives these equations, 
 
 24 
 From the first equation yZZ—^ 
 
 And from the second !/~14 — 2x 
 
 Therefore 14 — 2j£-^- 
 
 17o 
 
 17i 
 
 -—\o. 
 
 24 
 
 And multiplying by x, \ix — 2x^=24 
 And dividing by 2, 7x — x~ = \2 
 And changing the signs x'' — 7x=—\2 
 
 49 49 
 And comp. the square x^ — 7x-\ — -^:— 12~ 
 
 4 
 
 And extracting the square root x — -= =i=- 
 
 7 1 
 Therefore x=-=±=-=4 or 3 
 
 And i/=14 — 2a-=6 or 8. 
 
 Thus we have two sets of numbers, viz. xz^i, ^=6, 
 and X — r., !/=8, both of which evidently answer the 
 conditions of the question. 
 
 Ex. 3. A person bought a horse, which he afterwards 
 sold for 24 guineas, and by so doing lost as much per 
 cent, as the horse cost him. What sum did he cost ? 
 
 Suppose that the horse cost him x guineas, then since 
 he lost at the rate of .r guineas on 100, the loss upon x 
 guineas will be found from this proportion, 
 
 xy.x X' 
 
 \00 : X : : x •. -r-—=-rx7: 
 
 100 100 
 
 x^ 
 Therefore -—- is the difference between the price he 
 
 paid for the horse and the sum he received for it. 
 
 x^ 
 
 Therefore x =24 
 
 100 
 
 And hence x^ — 100.r= — 2400 
 
 And comp. the square, x' — I OOjr-f 2500^100 
 
 And extr. the root x — 30=t=±=10 
 
 Therefore ar=50=±=10=60 or 40. 
 
 Or thus, 
 
 100: or: : x : x — 24 
 
 .r^ = 100x — 2400 
 
 x^ — 1 00:r = — 2 400 
 
 x" — 100.r + 2500=2500 — 2400—100 
 
 X — 50 =±10 
 
 x:^60 or 40. 
 
 Thus it appears that the price of the horse might be 
 either 60 or 40 guineas, for both these numbers equally 
 satisfy the conditions of the question. 
 
 £x. 4. A company dining together at an inn, find 
 their bill amount to 175 shillings. Two of them were 
 not allowed to pay, and the rest foimd that their shares 
 amounted to 10s. a man more than if all had paid. How 
 many were there in the comjwny ? 
 
 Let x be their number, then if all had paid, each 
 
 175 
 man's share would have been , but seeing that only 
 
 X — 2 pay, the share of each is 
 
 the question. 
 
 175 
 
 Therefore, by 
 
 -r — 2 
 And hence 175jr — 175j^+350— lOx" — ^Qx 
 
 That is IOj,-^ — 20^^:^350 
 And dividing, x~ — 2x;z35 
 And comp. the sq. x^ — 2j;-J- Izr33 + llir56 
 And extracting the root x — lzz=t=6 
 Therefore j::— =±=6+1^:7 or — 5. 
 
 It is obvious that the positive value 7 is the only one 
 that gives the solution of the question, tlie negative 
 value — 5 being in this case useless. We may however 
 frame another question similar to the above, wliich will 
 be answered by the negative root. Thus if we suppose 
 that, besides the original company, two new comers 
 paid a share of the bill, by which it happened that the 
 share of eacli was 10 shillings less than it would other- 
 wise have been, then the equation resulting from this 
 
 r r u • M . '''5 173 
 
 new torm ol the question will be . ^10; from 
 
 '■ X x+2 ' 
 
 which X will be found to be — 7 or +5, the negative 
 root in the one case being the positive root in the 
 other. 
 
 196. In general, the negative root of a quadratic equa- 
 tion is, as to its magnitude, the answer to some problem 
 similar to that from which the equation was derived ; 
 and the two problems may for the most part be converted 
 into one another by changing one or more words into 
 their contraries, as gain into loss, progress into regress, 
 increase into decrease, and the like. 
 
 197. There are affected equations of all orders which 
 may be resolved in the manner of quadratic eqaations, 
 namely, such as contain only two powers of the unknown 
 quantity, and have the index of the one power double 
 that of the other. Such for example are these 
 
 x*-{-ftx^:::q 
 
 x'^-^-px^ZZ.q 
 And in general .t^"-)-/ix":Z7 
 
 where x is the unknown quantity, and fi and q are any 
 known quantities, positive or negative. 
 
 To resolve the last of these, which includes the 
 others, put x" = -, then x-"=z-; thus the equation 
 becomes z^ -{■fiz=iq. By resolving this quadratic equa- 
 tion ; will become known ; and since x"=z, therefore, 
 extracting the nxh root, x="^r, and thus x is also 
 known. 
 
 For example, let it be required to find two numbers 
 of which the product shall be 6, and the sum of their 
 
 cubes 35. Put X to denote the one number, then - 
 
 .r 
 
 216 
 will express the other nvumber, and x^-\ will ex- 
 
 press the sum of their cubes. 
 Therefore 
 
 216 
 x3+— .=35 
 
 X' 
 
 And hence x« + 2I6=35j;3 
 
 Or xS_35x3=_216 
 
 This equation, by putting x^=2, becomes 
 
 2^ — 35zn — 216 
 
 And hence we find 2zr27 or 8 
 And since x^:=;, and xz^^ \/z 
 Therefore x^5 or 2. 
 
 If we take .r=:3, then the other number ~~2, and if
 
 130 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 \vc take .v:z:'i, Uicn -^:3, Thus 2 and :> arc the num- 
 
 .V 
 
 l)crs rcfutircd. 
 
 Sect. VIII. Of .tntlinictical and Geometrical Series. 
 
 198. Before we proceed farther in the resolution of 
 ( (|Uiitions, it may be proper to explain the nature and 
 propiM-ties of two kinds of series which frequently occur 
 in niallicnuuical inquiries. 
 
 1. Of Arlllimclical Series. 
 
 \99. When several quantities increase or decrease by 
 ihc same common difference, they form an arithmetical 
 scries. Such for example are these ; 
 
 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, Sec. 
 
 or 8, 6, 4, 2, Sec. 
 
 or a, a+d, «+2rf, Sec. 
 
 or :, z — d, z — 2(/, Sec. 
 
 200. In any arithmetical scries, 
 
 let a denote the first term, 
 
 (/ the common difference, 
 
 w the number of terms, 
 
 - the last term, 
 
 and « the sum of all the terms. 
 
 Then the series will stand thus, 
 
 (7, c+r/, a+2d, a + od, a + id ... z. 
 
 Here it is manifest, by simply inspecting the scries, 
 that its Hth term will be </-)-(?; — l)^, and therefore, that 
 zZZ.n + {n — 1)(/. 
 
 201. Again, to find the sum of all the terms, let the 
 scries be written tw^ice, in an inverse order, so that the 
 first term may be over the last, and the second over the 
 last but one. Sec. thus 
 
 «, a-\-d, a-\-'2d, a + 3(/, ... r. 
 
 r, z — (•/, z — 2rf, r — 3f/, ... a. 
 
 Then it is plain that the sum of every two terms in 
 the same perpendicular rank is equal to the sum of the 
 two extreme terms of the series; therefore the sum of 
 the sums of all these pairs of terms is equal to the sum 
 of the extremes taken as often as there are terms. But 
 if we take the sums of all these pairs of terms, and 
 add them together, the result will evidently be twice 
 the sum of all the terms of the semes; therefore twice 
 the sum of all the terms of the series is equal to the 
 sum of the extremes taken as often as there are terms; 
 
 that is 2.V— "(n + -), therefore .v~ .^ ~ . 
 
 202. The two equations 
 
 z=a + {n-X)d, .,=^), 
 
 express the relations which the five quantities, a, d, n, 
 z, s have to one another; and by means of them, when 
 any three of the five quantities are given, the remain- 
 ing two, or cither of them, may be found, as in the 
 following examples. 
 
 Ejc. 1, The first term of an arithmetical series is 2, 
 the common difference 3, and number of terms 50. 
 Required the last term, and sum. 
 
 Here we have given arr2, rf^3, 7j~S0, to find z and 
 .s. Let tlicse values of «, d, and ??, be substituted in the 
 first equation, and it becomes ::i:2 + 49x3— 149. Again, 
 Icl the values of /;, a, and that just now found for r 
 
 be substituted in the second equation, and it becomes 
 
 soxlil 
 •^■=Z— =3775. 
 
 Jix. 2. The first term of an arithmetical series is 3, 
 the conunon difl'erence 2, and the sum 120. Required 
 the number of terms. 
 
 Here we have a::z3, d^z2, »— 120, to find n. Let 
 these numbers be substituted in the two equations in- 
 stead of the letters which denote them, and we get 
 
 2:^1+271, 'iiOzZon + nz. 
 
 By means of these equations let z be exterminated. 
 (§ 119.) and the result is the quadratic equation n^ -i-2n 
 :3l20. Hence n is found to be -floor — 12 (§186.) But 
 as it is manifestly only the positive root that can be ad- 
 mitted, we have nz^lO. 
 
 II. Geometrical Series. 
 
 203. When a number of quantities increase by the 
 same multiplier, or decrease by the same divisor, they 
 form a geometrical series. This common nuiltiplier, or 
 divisor, is called the common ratio. 
 
 Thus 1, 2, 4, 8, 16, Sec. 
 *-" '' To' To5' Tooo' '''^• 
 Or, in general, 
 
 a, ar, ar^, ar^, Sec. 
 
 is a geometrical series. And here r may be either a 
 whole number or a fraction. If r be greater than 1, the 
 series will increase, but if it be less than I, the series 
 will decrease. 
 
 204. Let a denote the first term, 
 
 r tlie common ratio, or multiplier, 
 
 n the number of terms, 
 
 z the last term, 
 
 « the sum of all the terms. 
 
 Then the series will be 
 
 c, ar, ar 
 
 And since it appears that the exponent of r in any term 
 is one less than the number expressing the place of that 
 term, it is evident, that sZZar"~'. 
 
 205. Now, sZZa-i-ar+ar^ +ar^ . . .-f ar"-!. 
 
 Therefore, multiplying both sides of the equation by r, 
 we have 
 
 rsZZar-\-ar'' -\-ar^ . . .-fcr^-i-f-cr". 
 
 Let the first of these equations be subtracted from the 
 
 second, and we have 
 
 rs — *zr — n-f ar", or (r — l)s~a()" — 1). 
 
 a(r" — 1) 
 Therefore «^-^-; — —■• 
 
 206. Hence it appears, that the relations of the five 
 quantities, a, r, ?i, z, s, to one another, are expressed by 
 the two equations, 
 
 z=ar'>-\ s=-^ — -•'; 
 
 r — 1 
 
 and by these, having given any three of the four quan- 
 tities, a, r, 71, s, the remaining quantity may be found by 
 the resolution of equations. If, however, n be not a 
 small number, the cases of this problem will be most 
 conveniently resolved by logarithms. 
 
 207. If we suppose the series to decrease, (in which 
 case r will be a fraction,) and also that the number of
 
 ALGK15RA. 
 
 451 
 
 "lenns is indefinitely great, then a formula for finding 
 the sum, in this case, may be investigated as follows : 
 
 From the first equation we have r"— — , and therefore 
 
 T" — \ZZ 1, and a(r" — \)zzrz — ci ; therefore, from 
 
 a 
 
 the second equation, we find sZZ.- — - , or rather, since 
 
 .!,«= 
 
 1 — r 
 
 But when the number of terms is in- 
 
 definitely great, and the series decreases, z is less than 
 any assignable quantity, and is therefore to be reckoned 
 
 as ^0 ; therefore, in this case, rzzzO, and s^z 
 
 1 — r 
 
 Ex. It is required to find the sum of the infinite series 
 ') hh h ^c. to infinity. 
 
 1 2 
 
 Here orzl, r— 4- Therefore szz- ^13^ — T— -"' ^^^^ 
 
 Sect. IX. Of Cubic Efjnatiovr:. 
 
 208. In treating of equations of the third order, or 
 cubic equations, we shall begin with pure cubic equa- 
 tions, which are all reducible to this form x^zz.zziz^a. 
 In this case, the equation is immediately resolved by 
 extracting the cube roots of both its sides. We thus 
 find xz^^=t=n ; and it is evident, from § 138, that, if a 
 be positive, then its cube root, or the value of or, will be 
 positive ; but if a be negative, then also x will be a nega- 
 tive quantity. Thus, if the equation be x^^:64, then 
 xzzX/(Si-=li; and if it be ar^z: — 216, then .r^I^^ — 216 
 
 209. As we can find the cube root of a negative, as 
 well as of a positive quantity, it is evident, that every 
 pure cubic equation will always have one real root, and 
 it is not obvious, at first sight, how it can have any other 
 root. As however we have found, that quadratic equa- 
 tions, whether pure or affected, have always two roots, 
 we may with good reason suspect that something simi- 
 lar will take place in cubic equations. And this suppo- 
 sition will appear to be completely verified, by proceed- 
 ing as follows : 
 
 Let x^^f^ be any pure cubic equation, where c de- 
 notes a quantity, which is either positive or negative ; 
 then, by transposition, we may express the equation 
 thus, x^ — f ''^:0 ; and here, as in the case of quadratics, 
 we are to consider every expression, which, being sub- 
 stituted instead oi x, causes the quantity x' — c"* to be- 
 
 . . £ ^_ , ^ J 
 
 -^/ — o, and traiispobing, .<~ 
 
 :v/— 3 
 
 2 
 
 c. Hence it appears, that 
 
 the three roots of the equation x^ — r^ — n are 
 — 1-fv^— 3 _l_v/_3 
 c. ^ r, c, 
 
 of whicli the first only is real, and the other two arc 
 imuginary. It is true, that, in ordinary calculations, we 
 employ only the first of these values, but either of the 
 other two being substituted for .r will ecjually satisfy the 
 equation, and the equation may be reproduced by taking 
 t!ie product of these three simple equations, 
 
 .J' — c=0, X- 
 
 -l + ^/_3 
 
 f =0, r- 
 
 _1_^'_3 
 
 for the product of tlie two last will produce the quadra- 
 tic .r^-f r.r-f c'=o, from which they were deduced, and 
 the product of this quadratic and the simple equation 
 X — c=0 will give the original equation x^ — c'=0. 
 
 210. We come now to consider cubic equations, whicli 
 have all their terms, and which, by the rules given in 
 § 107, may be reduced to this form, 
 
 jr'-fPx^-fQx-fRzzzO. 
 
 The first step towards resolving such an equation is 
 to transform it into another that shall want the second 
 
 p 
 term, which may be done by assuming xr=.y — -. Thu'^ 
 
 we have by involution, 
 
 -fP.r2= -fP;/2_2p2j/4.|p3^ 
 -J-Q.r = -f Qy _1PQ, 
 
 +R = -I- R, 
 
 and, adding together these equations, we have x^+Pa* 
 -fQ-r + R equal to ;/ ' -f (Q-4P*),/+^2_P% _|PQ + R. 
 In this last expression, let the compound quantities Q — 
 iP2, and -i-J?^ — ^PQ + R, be denoted by the single let- 
 ters q and r ; then, instead of the proposed equation 
 x^-)-Par2+Qx+R=0, we have this new equation i/'-f- 
 ijri/-|-r=0, which is more simple than the former, by 
 wanting the second power of the unknown quantity. 
 
 211. To resolve the equation under its new form, we 
 begin with assuming ii=-v + z, where \i and : denote two 
 indeterminate quantities. Then we have 
 
 
 come equal to 0, as a root of the equation.' Now, it an- 'ru„„^f„„„ „„K^.;f„t:. ^i • i r 3 • .,. 
 
 s^ „ ' , . 1,- r ■ 1, . 3 3- iherefore, substituting this value of y in the equation 
 
 pears from Example 4, in multiplication, that .r^ — c 
 the product of x — r and .r'-l-cx + f ", therefore the equa- 
 tion x^ — f ^izO may be otherwise expressed, thus, 
 
 (.r-c)(,r-+^.v+<:')=0. 
 
 But this equation may be satisfied in two ways, viz. by 
 making x — rirO, or by making .r"+f.r-f-c^:^0. The 
 first assumption gives us .rmr, and the second shews us 
 that there arc yet other two values of .r, which, being 
 substituted instead of it in the equation .r^ — r'ZTO, will 
 cause the whole to vanish ; namely, the roots of the 
 quadratic equation x^ +cx + c'':z:0. To determine these, 
 we transpose c^,and complete the square ; we thus have 
 
 x'^-\-cxJf.—-zz.-^ — r^— — -c^, and, extracting the root, 
 
 y +yy+'"=0, it becomes 
 
 i^'+rH(3x.2-fy> + ,-=0. 
 
 We next assume 3i'r + f/=0, by which the term of this 
 equation containing y vanishes, and leaves t"^ +:'' +r=:0. 
 We must now determine v and : from the two equa- 
 tions, 
 
 o 
 
 From the square of each side of the first of these equa- 
 tions, let four times the cube of each of the correspond- 
 ing sides of the second be subtracted, and the result is 
 x.« — 2-v^z^ J{-z(-zz.-^<i''-\-r'- ; now the left hand side of 
 this equation is evidently the square of \>^ — r', there- 
 fore, taking the square root, we have v^ — -^"^(-jV?''
 
 432 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 +r=)rr2^(V'f7'^+i''^)- From this equation, and the 
 equation v'' +:''ZZ — r, wc find, as at Ex. 1, § 122, that 
 
 and hence, taking the cube roots, 
 iind consequently, since j/~ii+z, 
 
 
 } 
 
 .; 12. This is, however, only one of three vaUies, which 
 ;/ will admit of; for it appears from § 209, that the 
 cube root of any number a is not only \/a, but also 
 
 -'+^-'-xVa, and -'-^^ 
 
 2 • • -^ - 2 
 
 putting m and n to denote the imaginary expressions 
 
 an e(|uation of the second order, entirely free from ima- 
 ginary expressions. Ai^uiii, l)y actually multiplying this 
 last equation by the first equation, viz. y — \/A — \/H 
 =0, the product will be 
 
 1/ ^— 3 V ABy— ( A + B)=:0. 
 
 But 3VAr5=5V{T'-'— (2V7'+i''')}=— 7. and A + B 
 = — r; tlicretore, by substituting these values of 3^AB 
 and A + B, the equation becomes y' +</y+r—0, as i( 
 ought to be. 
 
 215. Let the single letters a, b, c, denote the three 
 compound quantities found in § 213, for the roots of the 
 e(|uation y^ +rjy + r^O, so that, as has been shewn in the 
 last §, y^ +<jy + r=(y — a){y — 6)(v — c); then, since this 
 equation has been deduced from the equation ar^-)-Px- 
 -|-Q.r+R=:0, by assuming jr^y — ^P, or y=:x-\-^P, 
 X\/a, therefore, (§ 210.) it follows, that the roots of the latter equation 
 
 -l + v'— 5 
 
 and 
 
 -I— y- 
 
 ■ ; and A and B for the quan- 
 tities _l-r+^(^Vy'+i'") and —lr—^{^q'+\r') re- 
 spectively, we have 
 
 v:=l/A, vzzm^yA, vZZn\/A ; 
 ~=:\/B, zZZml/U, z=nX/B. 
 
 Now, in coupling the values of v and z, so as to form 
 the values of i/3:x»-f s we must recollect, that t'z"-— 
 
 :^\/AB, a quantity free from the imaginary expres- 
 sions 7)1 and ri ; but this can only be done in three ways ; 
 viz. 1st, By coupling \/ A with ^B ; 2dly, By coupling 
 ;n\/A with !i\/B ; and lastly. By coupling n^A, with 
 iii\/B ; for, in each of the two last, we have 7?m~l, and 
 therefore Jnn \/AB:z.i/AB. 
 
 213. Therefore, in the equation y'+yy+r^O, we 
 have three distinct values of y, viz. 
 
 y=\/A+\/B, 
 
 y=m\/A + n^^B, 
 y=n\/A + in\/B. 
 
 The first of these formulas is commonly known by the 
 name of Cardan's rule, because it was first published to 
 the world by him. The invention of the rule, however, 
 is due to Nicholas Tartalea, and to Scipio Ferreus, who 
 found it independently of each other. (See § 8 and § 9.) 
 
 214. As the pure cubic equation x^ — c^Z^O is the 
 product of the three simple equations x- — f~0, x — ?nc 
 — 0, X- — »f~0, ()H and n having the values already spe- 
 cified), so in like manner, the affected cubic equation 
 '/^-f ?!/ + '■— is the product of the three simple equa- 
 tions y — %/A — VB=0, y — m\/A — ?!^B=0, y — w^A 
 — m\/B=^0; for, by actual multiplication, the product 
 of the two latter equations is 
 
 y2_(;„ + „) ('^A-f VB)y+m<3/A2+yB')H- ? _^ 
 
 (m2+n2)VAB 5 
 
 But since m 
 
 _— l+y/— 3 
 
 , and «= 
 
 -i-y-3 
 
 there- 
 
 fore m-{-nz: — 1, and 7)ni^\,s.nd m^-]-n-z=(m-\-)7)^ — 2mn 
 — — 1; therefore the product of the two equations y — m 
 ■^A — n\/B=Oand y — )i\/A — m^B=0, which involve 
 the imaginary expressions m and ?;, is 
 
 !/2+(^A-fVB)j/+VA2+VB'— V-'^=f'' 
 
 are a — IP, 6 — ^P, c— iP, and that 
 
 j;'+Px^+Qx + Rzr(j:-— a-f-^P) (.r— A+IP) 
 
 (x— c+J^P)=:o. 
 
 216. Hence it appears, that every cubic equation 
 x^ -j-/ix^ +rjx+7-^:0 may be resolved into three fac- 
 tors, and expressed thus : (jr — a) (x — b) (x — c)— 0, 
 (where a, h, c denote quantities made up oifi,g, and r,j 
 and therefore may be satisfied in three ways, viz. by 
 assuming x~a, or x:^b, or x^Zc. 
 
 217. By taking the actual product of the three simple 
 factors .r — a, x — b, and x — c, and putting the result 
 etpial to x^ -)-/Jx^ -f-yx+r, we discover some remarkable 
 relations which take place between the roots of a cubic 
 equation and its coefficients, analogous to those we have 
 already observed at § 189, in the case of quadratic equa- 
 tions. For we thus obtain 
 
 x-^— rt"] +abl 
 
 — b lx2-fac Y x—abc::ix^ +/ix^ +qx+r. 
 —c} +bc} 
 
 and hence, making the coefficients of the like powers 
 of X equal to one another, we have 
 
 a+b +c =:—/;, 
 
 ab-\-ac-\-bc^ g, 
 
 abc^ — r. 
 
 From which it appears : 
 
 1 . That the coefficient of the second term of a cubic 
 equation, taken with a contrary sign, is the sum of its 
 three roots. 
 
 2. That the coefficient of the third term is the sum 
 of the product of its roots taken two and two. 
 
 3. That its last term taken with a contrary sign, is 
 the products of its three roots. 
 
 218. From the first of these three properties, we may 
 infer, that if the second term of a cubic equation be 
 wanting, so that its coefficient may be considered as 
 ^:0, then one root of the equation is equal to the sum 
 of the other two roots, but has a contrary sign to that 
 sum. 
 
 219. Let it be required to find the roots of the equa- 
 tion x^ — 6x^+6x — 5^:0 by the foregoing formulas. 
 
 In the first place, we must transform the equation 
 into another that shall want the second term, which is 
 
 6 
 to be done, as shewn in § 210, by asummg xZZy+- 
 
 — !/ + 2. Accordingly, substituting this quantity instead 
 of X and its powers, the equation is transformed to y —
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 433 
 
 69 — 9 — 0. \Vc now compare this equation with y^ + 
 yy-j-r — Q, and find i/~ — 6, and rzz — 9. Therefore, 
 
 alsoB=-^r_y(i^,r+1^2)-^_^-l, and V^ 
 
 — 1. Therefore, substituting, instead of the imaginary 
 expressions m and n, their numeral values, we have 
 
 y=2 + l=3. 
 
 _— 1+v/— : 
 
 _— I — ^— : 
 
 ^ 2 
 
 X2 + 
 
 X2+: 
 
 -1—/— -;, 
 
 ;+v/- 
 
 ~2 ^ — 2 
 
 and since jrny+2, therefore 
 xZ=2 + 3=5, 
 
 -3 + v' — '5__ ' + v' — -^ 
 2 ~ 2 
 
 xr:2+ 
 
 ^ 2 2 
 
 Thus it appears, that only one of the three values of j; 
 are real, the others being imaginary. 
 
 220. Having found one value of a- to be 5, we might 
 have discovered the other two, by considering that since 
 X — 5 must be one of three factors of the expression 
 jc^ — 6;c2 + 6.r — 5, (§216.) the product of the other two 
 will be found by dividing sc'^ — 6x^ + 6^ — 5 by Jr — 5. 
 Accordingly, the division being performed, we find the 
 quotient to be x^ — jr+1. Therefore 
 
 x^ — 6jr2^6x — 5:^(x — 5) {x^ — Jr+1)=0. 
 
 Hence it appears, that the equation will be satisfied, 
 not only by assuming x — 5^0, or x^5, but also by as- 
 suming JT^— x-l-l~0. And this quadratic equation, 
 1+v/— 3 , I— -•— 3 
 
 Avhen resolved, gives jr=- 
 
 and X ~- 
 
 agreeing with the results already found. 
 
 221. It may happen, that a cubic equation has a ra- 
 tional root, and yet that root cannot be found by the 
 foregoing formulas. Suppose, for example, the equation 
 to be y^ — 6i/ — 40~0, one root of which is 4. In this 
 case, we have f/^ — 6, r::: — 40 ; therefore — | r^20, 
 V'(Jy9^-fir2) = V392— ^142X2=14^2, and hence 
 A^20+14v^2, Br:20 — 14^2, and consequently one of 
 the roots y=:\/A+\/B-=.l/(20+\4^2) + ^y{20—\'i 
 \^2). Now this value of y is really equal to 4, although, 
 on inspection, one would hardly suppose it. However, 
 the cube of 2 + ^/2 being 20+14^/2, we have, on the 
 other hand, the cube root of 20+ 14v'2, equal to2-f ^2. 
 In the same manner, ^(20 — 14^2)zr2 — v'2, there- 
 fore the value of x is 2-J-V2 + 2 — V2:z:4. 
 
 222. Although we had not discovered the exact cube 
 roots of 20+14^2 and 20 — 14 V'2 to be 2 + ^2 and 
 2^V2, yet we might have discovered them nearly, by 
 approximation, by first finding the approximate value 
 of ■v/2, and then the approximate values of ^(20+14 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 V2) and X/{2Q — 14 v'2) by tlic common rules for the 
 square and cube roots (§ 147, 152.) so that, at any rate, 
 by means of the formulas, wc might have approximated 
 as near to the root as we chose. 
 
 223. If we substitute the numeral values of the ima- 
 ginary expressions m and n in the formulas of §213, it 
 will be found, that they may otherwise be expressed, 
 thus, 
 
 y= VA + VB, 
 v=-l{ 1/A+ Vb} + ^-{ VA- Vb}, 
 
 v=-A|yA-f vb}-^-{;/a-vb}; 
 
 and hence it appears, that \/A and \/B being supposed 
 real quantities, the first of these values will always be 
 real, but the two last, on account of the imaginary ex- 
 pression /t/ — 5 contained in them, will always be ima- 
 ginary. But since A= — Ir+A/i^i/^ +ir-) and B = 
 — !'■ — V'(2Vy^+3''^)' ^^ is manifest, that ^A and l/B 
 will always be real when -if'/^+^r^ is a positive quan- 
 tity. 
 
 Now as ^)-2 must necessarily be a positive quantity, 
 (§ 134.) it is manifest that J^ry^-f ir^ will be positive, 
 and consequently its square root will be a real quantity 
 in two cases, namely, when g is positive ; and when 7 
 is negative, but such that ^V?^ (which is then also ne- 
 gative) is less than^r^. 
 
 Hence we may conclude, 
 
 1. That all cubic equations of this form y^-^-qy+r 
 =0, in which </ is positive and r either positive or nega- 
 tive, have one real and two imaginary roots. 
 
 2. That the same is also true of equations having 
 the form y^ — gy+rzzO, in which y is negative, provided 
 that ir^-^^\rj^. 
 
 224. If in this last equation, g were such that ^r- 
 :zz-^jg^, then, as the general expression ^V*^+i'"^» be- 
 comes, when g has the negative sign prefixed to it, 
 ■ir^ — jV?^' i' is evident that the radical quantity ^ 
 (Jy9^-fir^) would vanish, and we would have A — R — 
 — ir, and 3yA+\/B—2^^-^r, and ^A— VB=0. 
 In this case the formulas of last § would become sim- 
 
 piy 
 
 y=.2 V— ir, y=—X/—ir, y=.—X/—ir; 
 
 from which it appears that when g the coefficient of y 
 is negative and ■^jg^:^^r^, then all the roots are real, 
 and two of them are equal to one anotlier. 
 
 225. Again, supposing g negative, if ^'y^'' be greater 
 than ir^, so that ir" — ^-^g^ is a negative quantity; then 
 the radical v^(ir" — ^7'/^) will become imaginaiy ; and 
 thus the two expressions denoted by A and B will be 
 both imaginary ; by which it happens that all the three 
 roots of the equation have the appearance of being ima- 
 ginary ; but this is only in appearance ; for in truth, so 
 far from being imaginary, they are all real. For ex- 
 ample, let the equation be y^ — 6w + 4z=0. Here y= 
 — 6 and rrz +4, therefore — l*"^^ — 2, and \/ {J^g3 
 +ir2)=x/(— 8 + 4)=x/— 4=2 v/— 1- Thus we have 
 
 VAzz V(— 2-f2v/— 1), and i/B= V{—2—2^—l), 
 and the three values of y are by the formulas of § 223, 
 
 3-1
 
 434 
 
 ALGEBKA. 
 
 i/=V(-2 + 2^/— 1) + V(— 2-2%/— 
 
 _(-^{ V(-2+^v/-i)+VC-2-2v/-r)} 
 
 )+ ^^1 V(-2 + 2>/-l)-V(-2-2x/-l) } 
 
 'y= 
 
 '- ) x/- 
 
 ^{ V(-2 + 2v/-1) + V(-2-2n/-0} 
 
 { V(-2+2y-l)— V(-2-2v/-l)} 
 
 all which involve the imaginary expression v/— 1 ; and 
 the last two this other imaginary expression, v/ — 3. As 
 Iiowever it will be found upon trial that the cube of 1 + 
 V — 1 is — 2+V — 1, and that the cube of 1 — V — 1 is 
 —2 — 2 V — 1 ; therefore on the contrary we may infer 
 that \/A=X/{—2+2^—\)=.\+^—\, and ^^B=\/ 
 ( — 2— 2^ — 1)=1 — V— 1; thus we have V^^ + V^^ 
 — 1+^__1 + 1_V— 1=:+2; and VA— ^B=l+v'— 
 I — 1 + x/ — '— 2v/ — ' ; and hence the three values of 
 ;/ are these, 
 
 l/=+2, 
 2/=— J-X + 2 + 
 
 x/- 
 
 -X2^— 1=— I — V'3 
 
 ^-3 
 
 -X2^~l=— 1 + v'3 
 
 all which are real. 
 
 226. That we may see the reason of this peculiarity 
 in the form of the expressions for the roots, we must 
 recur to the general solution, (§211 — §213) where it 
 appears that when </ is negative, and r either positive or 
 negative, so that the equation has this form, y^ — c/y 
 — >— ^ — '\ then to resolve it in the manner there employ- 
 ed, we must suppose the root ;/ to be the sum of two 
 numbers v and z, and assume jvz — 9=0 : this assump- 
 tion (which is arbitrary, and made with a view to sim- 
 plify the resolution) when combined with the equation 
 -v+z^=y, produces this other equation z'^+z^:±:zr=Q ; 
 so that to determine v and r, or rather, 1;= and 2', we 
 have these two equations, 
 
 27' 
 
 34.-!=:. 
 
 Now as the product of two numbers cannot exceed 
 
 the 
 
 if|^do 
 
 not exceed 
 
 square of half their sum,* 
 
 f ~*~ 1^= — , the assumed equation ovz — 7=0, is ad- 
 missible, and the quantities d-"' and r^, and consequently 
 V and 2, when determined, will be found to have both 
 real values. 
 
 There is, however, nothing in the nature of the equa- 
 r, to prevent —from being less than 
 
 tion y — jym 
 
 z!. 
 27' 
 
 therefore r may be as small as any quantity whate\er, 
 
 — may be less than i—, and this being the case, the 
 
 4 ' 27 ° 
 
 assumption Zvz — y=0, cannot possibly be admitted in 
 resolving the equation y^ — (/yz^r:=(j. 
 
 It is true indeed that even in this case we obtain gen- 
 eral formulas for the roots ; but these indicate the want 
 of agreement of the conditions of the equation, with the 
 assumption by which they have been obtained ; for they 
 always contain the imaginary symbol i^ — 1, and arc in 
 fact expressions of the kind adverted to at § 191, name- 
 ly, such as denote real quantities, but under an imagi- 
 nary form. 
 
 Perhaps it may be supposed, that although the mode 
 of resolution we have employed fails when y is negative, 
 
 and 5— 1^ — ; yet there must needs be some other ana- 
 logous mode of proceeding, suited to this particular 
 case. However this may be, it is certain no one has 
 hitherto been able to discover such a method ; so that 
 this case of cubic equations, which has obtained the: 
 name of the irreduceabU case, has given as much trouble 
 to modern mathematicians as the celebrated problems 
 of the trisection of an angle, and the duplication of thi 
 cube, gave to the ancients ; and, like these, has, in the 
 end, baffled all attempts to resolve it. 
 
 227. When the equation to be resolved is y^—qy:zizi 
 
 rO, 
 
 and -- 
 
 '-, then, 
 
 4 
 
 changing the sign of q in the 
 
 expressions denoted by A and B (§212) so as to make 
 them suit this case, we have 
 
 A==;=ir+V(_i93+ir=) 
 B==F=^r_V(-J7?3^ir^) 
 
 Let a be put for —x—.jr, and b for v^Ct??' — *'"')' ^^here 
 it is to be observed that a and b denote real quantities, 
 then, 
 
 A— a + Jy'— 1, B=«— Ay'— '. 
 and one of the values of y in the equation is 
 
 V(«+V— i)+V(«— V— 1).§213. 
 
 Sometimes the expressions a-f-dy' — I and a — 6y' — 1, 
 have exact cube roots, as in the example of § 225; but 
 in the actual applications of algebra this will very sel- 
 dom happen, and even to determine when it does so, is 
 a problem of the same nature and difficulty as the reso- 
 lution of the original equation. We can always, how- 
 ever, exhibit the cube roots of these expressions, in the 
 form of infinite series, as will appear in Sect. XVIII. 
 (§322. Ex. 3.) And it will there be shewn that if 
 
 1-2-5-8 b* 
 
 •8cc.) 
 
 P=«^(l + '-^* 
 
 i/la 
 
 then 
 
 3-6 o^ 
 1-2-5 b^ 
 
 3-6-9-12 a 
 1-2 
 
 b 3-6-9 
 
 5-6-9-12 
 
 for putting the expression y — ijy under this form 
 
 V (y- — 7), it is evident that if y be positive, and y" nearly 
 equal to rj, but a little greater, then y' — g, and conse- 
 quently y{y^ — '/)^+'' '^^'ill be a small quantity, and 
 may be smaller than any assignable quantity. On the 
 other hand, if we suppose u to be positive, and y- a 
 little less than (j, the same thing will happen, with this 
 difference that y{y^ — 'j)=^ will be negative. Since 
 
 • For let m+ri and m — n denote any two numbers ; their sum is 2m, and the square of half their sum m" . 
 (w-J-n) (,■»!,— n)=m^ —n- , .indthis quantity evidently cannot exceed m". 
 
 8-11 fis ^ , 
 — ——Sec); 
 la «=■ ' 
 
 Hence we have 
 
 1/A+ VB=2P, VA— vB=2Qv/— 1 
 
 Again, their product is
 
 ALGEBRA, 
 
 435 
 
 and these values being substituted in the formulas of 
 § 223, give 
 
 i/=2P,i/=— P— Qv/3,t/=— P+Qy3, 
 
 all which values are real : and as it has been shewn 
 (§ 223) that in every other case two of the roots arc 
 imaginary, and one real, we may infer that a cubic 
 equation may have all its roots i-eal, or two imaginary 
 and one real ; but that it cannot have only one imagi- 
 nary root. 
 
 228. Instead of finding tlie roots in the irrcduceable 
 case, by means of infinite series, in general it will be 
 more convenient to find them by the help of the com- 
 mon trigonometrical tables, taking advantage of a cu- 
 rious analogy which subsists between this case consi- 
 dered as an arithmetical problem, and the celebrated 
 geometrical problem requiring the trisection of an angle. 
 We now proceed to explain how this may be done. 
 
 Resuming therefore the equation y' — yy+rssO, m 
 which the term gy is supposed to be negative and 
 ■27?''^1'"S Is' us assume y^zn cos. z, where ii denotes 
 a quantity to be determined presently, and the expres- 
 sion cos. z means the cosine of an arc r, also to be de- 
 termined. Let this value of ij be substituted in the 
 equation, and it becomes n^ cos.^ z — ?ig cos. z+r:=0. 
 But by the arithmetic of sines, radius being unity, we 
 have C0S.3 -=t '^°^- ■^-+1 cos. z ; therefore i;i^ cos. 
 2z-\-^n3 COS. z — ng cos. z+i'^0, and reducing, 
 
 nS COS. 3z + (5n3 — 4,irj) cos. z-f4r=0; 
 
 we now assume 3n^ — 4?i(/~0, by which the term con- 
 taining COS. z vanishes from the equation, which then 
 becomes simply n^ cos. 3;-t-4r~0. From these two 
 equations we get 
 
 /4g „ /g , „ 5r^/3 
 
 7prr^rr^— 2 /i, and cos. 3:=— „ — -. 
 V 3 ^3' 2gy/g 
 
 But here we must examine whether this expression for 
 cos. 5z be greater or less than 1, the radius; for if it 
 should happen to be greater, then the assumptions we 
 have made must involve some contradiction. Now, as 
 by hypothesis, ir^.^^Jj^ySj therefore 27r-,g::::.'ig^, and, 
 
 / 27)- _ 
 
 dividing by ig^ 
 3rV 
 
 , <^1, therefore also 
 
 ' 4y3 
 
 4g^ 
 
 1. Hence it appears that the expression we 
 
 have found for cos. 
 to be. 
 
 229. In determining the value of the arc z from the 
 
 is less than radius, as it ought 
 
 eqtiation cos. or~ — ^^ — ~, 
 
 it must be considered that 
 
 the cosine of any arc, and the cosine of the same arc 
 increased by any number of complete circumferences, 
 are all expressed by the same number, (see Arithme- 
 tic of Sines). Therefore if a be the least arc, which 
 being substituted for 5z satisfies the equation cos. 3z= 
 
 — :-, then will any one of the series of arcs, a, a+ 
 
 2y^/f/ 
 
 360°, a+2x360°, Ecc. continued indefinitely, satisfy the 
 
 same equation. Hence it may be inferred, that in the 
 
 assumed equation yZZn cos. :, we inay take r equal to 
 
 each of the terms of the following series of arcs, -Ja, 
 
 i(c+360°), i(a-t-2x360°), -Ka + SxSeo"), Ecc. It is easy 
 
 however to perceive, that the first three are the only 
 
 arcs which give different values of cos. z ; for each of 
 
 the following arcs exceeds one or other of them either 
 
 by the whole circumfereuce, or some multiple of it. 
 Therefore cos. z has these three values, cos. ia, cos. 
 (4«-f. 120°), cos. (10 + 240"). 
 
 230. From the preceding investigation, we have the 
 following rule for resolving the ecjuation y' — gy-\-r='J 
 
 when iV'/^'^^.l''^- 
 
 Find from the trigonometrical tables an arc a, whose 
 
 • • . 3'V3 „„ 
 
 cosine 18 equal to — - — y-. 1 hen the roots arc 
 
 2-7 v/y' 
 
 -X cos. iff. 
 
 y=Z2j'jx cos. (1^+120"), 
 y—^^lx cos. (40+240"). 
 
 Note. In the application of this rule it is to be ob- 
 served, that the cosine of an arc between 0° and 90" is 
 considered as positive ; but if the arc be between 90" 
 and 3x90°, or 270°, its cosine is negative; again from 
 270° to 360 it is positive, and so on. See Arithmetic 
 of Sines. 
 
 Ex. Find the roots of the equation y^ — 19y+30=0. 
 Here g = \9, r=50. Therefore 2 /^=. 503322, and 
 
 — ^^-^=— ■941115ZICOS. 160° 14'23"=cos. c; 
 2g-yg 
 
 Therefore 
 
 |a= 53° 24' 48", its cos. =. + -596077 
 .;^a-H20° = 173° 24' 48", its cos. = — -993400 
 iaX240°=293° 24' 48", its cos. = + -397361 
 
 j/rr-503322x -59608= 3 
 !/:^-503322x — -993400= — 5 
 7/13-503322 X -397361= 2 
 
 Hence it appears that the roots of the equation are +3, 
 —5, +2. 
 
 Sect. X. Of Biguadratic Eguations. 
 
 231. The most general form a biquadratic equation, 
 or an equation of the fourth order, can have, is 
 
 a-*+P.r3+Qx2+Ra:+S=0. 
 
 Before, however, we treat of the resolution of tliis 
 equation in its most general form, we shall consider 
 some of its more simple cases. 
 
 232. First suppose the equation to be pure, or to be 
 simply x^^rn, then extracting the foui-th root, we have 
 x^l*ya. Thus if a=256, then becatise •Ja — ^/256 = 
 16, we have .r=:*/a=v''(Vn)=:\/16=4. 
 
 This however is only one of the values which x will 
 admit of; and to discover the others, we must resolve 
 the expression x* — «, or (putting b* instead of a) x* 
 — 6* into its simple factors. Now x* — b* is the product 
 of x^ — b^ and x-^b-\ and again, x^ — b^ is the pro- 
 duct of x — b and x-\-b, and x" -\-b- is the product of 
 the two impossible expressions .r — V — b^ i and x+V 
 — 6^; that is of .r — b,/ — 1, and x-\-by/ — 1; therefore 
 we have x*—b'^={x—b) (-r+A) {x — b^—\) [x+by/— 
 1); so that if x*—b* or x* — b*=0, then we have 
 
 {x—b){x+6){x—b^—\){x+b^—l)=0; 
 
 and this equation will manifestly be satisfied by giving 
 to X any one of these four values, viz. 
 
 x=+b, x=: — b, x=+b^/ — 1, :i-= — AV' — 1 • 
 3 I 2
 
 436 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 233. Next to pure biquadratic equations, in point of 
 easiness of resolution, are those which want the second, 
 and fourth terms; and which are of this form r*+f/x^ 
 
 s = 0, (/ and a denf)titig known coefficients. AVc have 
 
 already shewn, § I'JT, that equations of this form may 
 always be resolved in the same manner as a quadratic, 
 by assuming x^ =::y, for thus the equation becomes y^ + 
 
 (/l/-\-szzO; the roots of which arc y = > 
 
 and y~ 
 
 —rj—y/{</'—4,) 
 
 but since 
 
 x-^=y\ 
 
 therefore 
 
 ■> t—^/y thus r has four values, which may be in- 
 
 cluded in the formula 
 
 -J-- 
 
 .y=t=V('/---4s) 
 
 where 
 
 the signs before the radical sign v/ may be either taken 
 both -f or both — , or the one + and the other — . 
 
 234. When a biquadratic equation has all its terms, 
 its solution can only be effected by the intervention of 
 a cubic equation. This may be done in different ways ; 
 but we shall here give only the method of Jiuler, as ex- 
 plained by him in his Algebra. 
 
 According to this method, the root of an equation of 
 the fourth degree is supposed to have the form V = v//' 
 •i- '/'/+'/>', in which the letters fi, </, r express the 
 roots of an equation of the third degree, viz. 2^— ;/i:2+ 
 gz — /j=0; so that (§ 217.) we have Ji + <j+r=f, {icj+jir 
 -j-gr—g-, and /ii/r=/!. We now square the assumed 
 formula y = ^/i + \/_T+V''f ^"^ obtain !/^=/;-f y-f r-f 
 2v'7y + 2v//^''+-\/vr; and_since /i-ffy + r=/, we have 
 i/^—/=2v^/Ky-f-2.v//i)-f-2^(/r. We again take the 
 squares of the sides of this equation, and find y* — 2fy^ 
 -f/2 =:iftg + 4/ir + 'igr+8 ^/rc/r+ 8 ^M^+ 8 y/TyPT 
 Now 'ific/-\-4pr-{-4(yi-:^'iff, therefore this equation be- 
 comes y<— 2/1/-4-/'— 4^e-+8v'/'y(\//' + \/?+v/0- But 
 ■y/ji-\-^/ij-\--JiZZ.y, and J^r^z/i, therefore, substituting 
 these values, and transposing, we have y'> — 2fy- — 8y 
 /h-\-f- — 4^:^0, an equation of the fourth degree, 
 which we are sure has one of its roots y'ZZ'J/>-\-t/(j+ ^r, 
 and in which fi, q, and r are the roots of this equation of 
 the third degree z^—fz^-\-g- — I'ZZO. 
 
 255. The biquadratic equation y^ — "ify- — 8y^/t-{-f'' 
 — ig — 0, it is true, wants its second term; but we can 
 transform any biquadratic equation having all its terms 
 into another which shall want its second term, by an ar- 
 tifice exactly the same as we have employed in the case 
 of cubic equations (§ 210). Thus, let the equation be 
 x-^-^-ax" -^-bx' -\-cjr-\-dz^O ■ then, assuming xzzy — la, 
 and, substituting y — {a and its powers instead of x and 
 its powers, the equation is transformed into 
 
 an equation which, putting the single letters A, B, C 
 lor the known compound coefficients, may be expressed 
 thus, i/^-f-Av'+Biz + Cz^O; and in which the second 
 icrm is manifestly wanting. 
 
 236. Let thei'e now be proposed any equation ly* — ay- 
 — by — czzO. To determine its root we must first com- 
 pare it with the equation y* — 2/y'^ — 8y,/h-\-/~ — 4^ZI0, 
 in order to obtain the values of y, g, and A, and we shall 
 have these three equations 
 
 2f=za, Sy/h—b, f2^ig——c. 
 
 From the first of these equations, we hm'c f^\a, and 
 
 from the second If^Z—-- ; let the value we have lUst 
 
 64 ' 
 
 found for f be substituted in the third equation, and it 
 becomes AqJ — -ig'" — c ; and hence g^Z^^a^-'r-c, We 
 have now only to substitute these values of y, g., h in the 
 equation z^ — ■fz^-\-gz — Aizo, and to determine its roots 
 //, (/, 7-, by what is taught in last Section, and one of the 
 roots of our equation of the fourth degree, viz. y^—ay'' 
 — by — f^:0, must be yzz-^/i + \/r/-\-^r. 
 
 237. This method appears, at first, to furnish only one 
 root of the proposed equation ; but if wc consider, that 
 every sign ^ may be taken negatively, as well as posi- 
 tively, we shall immediately see, that this fonnula con- 
 tains all the four roots. 
 
 Farther, if we were to admit all the possible changes 
 of the signs, we should have eight different values of x, 
 and yet four only can exist. But it is to be observed, 
 that the product of those three terms, or \//i(/r must be 
 e((ual to ^yh^.^b, and that if '}b be positive, the product 
 of the terms -v//;, x/(j, and \/r must likewise be positive, 
 so that all the variations that can be admitted are re- 
 duced to the four following : 
 
 y=^/i—^'/—</r, 
 
 y=—y/'+ -/? — V' 
 
 ?/=— x//i— v^!7+ x/'-- 
 In like manner, when |6 is negative, we have only the 
 four following values of y : 
 
 y=z^/i+ s/q — v'r, 
 
 y= — \//i — >/q — y/r. 
 
 This circumstance enables us to determine the roots in 
 all cases, as in the following example : 
 
 Let the equation to be resolved, when transformed so 
 as to want its second term, (§235.) bey* — 25i/2 + 60i/ — 
 o6^:(i. Comparing this ecjuation with the general for- 
 mula y* — ay^ — by — f=0, we have a=25, A=r — 60, f=:36 ; 
 
 25 625 769 225 
 
 and hence we have /"= — , g=i.— — 1-9=-; — j and h = 
 
 •^ 2 '® 16 ^ 16 4 
 
 Thus our equation of the third degree becomes 
 
 3 25 , 769 225 
 
 z ^ 22-1 2 =0. 
 
 2 16 4 
 
 To remove the fractions let us make 2^-, and the 
 
 4 
 
 equation becomes 
 
 64 
 
 25 1'- , 
 
 225 
 
 4 4~ ■ 
 
 and hence we get^/^ — 50v^-f769T'- 
 
 '69 
 
 Te" 
 
 600=0. The roots 
 
 of this equation will be found, by the rules for cubics, to 
 
 9 
 
 be x'=9, r=16, and t~25 ; and hence 2=-, 2 = 4, z=z 
 
 4 
 
 25 
 
 T' 
 
 9 25 . . 
 
 Ji=-, (7=4, r= — . Now, if we consider that y//iqr'= 
 
 and these are also the values of^;, y, and r; that is, 
 
 15 
 11/11= , it follows that this value =\b being nega- 
 tive, we must, agreeably to what has been said with re- 
 gard to the signs of the roots i/fi, ■Jq-, -jr, take all those 
 three roots negatively, or only one of them negatively ; 
 and consequently as V/'— I' •J<!—~i and \/;=4, the four 
 roots of the given equation are found to be
 
 ALGKBRA. 
 
 437 
 
 y=|— 2+4=2, 
 
 I/=— 1 + 2+1=3, 
 
 233. As the terms of every quadratic equation, when 
 brought all to one side, constitute a quantity which may 
 be resolved into two simple factors, (§ 188.) and, in like 
 manner, the terms of a cubic equation may lie resolved 
 into three factors, (§ 216.) so also the terms of a biquad- 
 ratic equation may be resolved into four factors. 
 
 For the first set of values which we have found for y 
 in the equation i/* — ai/^ — by — c=0, or (substituting for 
 o, 6, and c their values, expressed by y, g^ and A,) 
 y* — 2/y^ — Syt/h+f"^ — 4^'=0, give us these four sim- 
 ple factors, 
 
 (y— V/0— (x/7+x/'-)> (y+WO— (y/y— v/O, 
 
 Taking now the products of the factors which stand 
 over one another, and considering that each pair is the 
 sum and difference of two quantities, and consequently 
 that each product will be the difference of the squares 
 of these quantities, (§ 57, Ex. 2.) we obtain from the 
 first pair 
 
 V'— 2!/ v'/' +/'— 7— 2 V^— r ; 
 
 and from the second, 
 
 ?/ V2i/y/i+//— 7 + 2 '•^— r. 
 
 But since /(-f-7 + r=/', therefore /; — q — r='ift — -f. In- 
 stead of p^-q — r, let 2/2 — -f be substituted in these two 
 products, then, arranging the terms so as to constitute 
 a sum and a difference of two quantities, these products 
 will stand thus, 
 
 (y = -f 2A-,/-)— (2y v'// +2^/^), 
 {y- +V>—f) + {:2y^ ti + 2^gr). 
 
 And, again, taking the product of these, we get for the 
 product of the four simple factors 
 
 —y*-J2fy^—iy/pqr+f-~iJl{f—p)—iyr. 
 
 But ^ tiqr'ZZ.t/ li^ and since y^^i=i7+r, therefore — 4/i 
 if—l') — iqr^ — 'i{ftq-{-fir-{-qr)— — 4^, therefore this 
 last expression becomes 
 
 y^—lfy^—^y^h+r—ig ; 
 
 that is, it is identical with the left hand side of the equa- 
 tion y* — 'ify' — 8!/\//;+/"* — 4^' =0, as was to be proved. 
 Although this equation want the second term, yet it 
 is easy to perceive, that the same property must belong 
 to all biquadratic equations whatever ; so that, in any 
 biquadratic equation x^-f Px^-f Qa:^-<-Rj:-|-S~0, we 
 may be assured it is possible to find four expressions 
 a, b, c, and d, composed of the coefficients P, Q, R, S, 
 and such that 
 
 x''-f.Px3-|-Q3r24.Rj:+s 
 
 "^{x — a){x — b)[x — c)(x — if), 
 
 and hence we see how it happens that every biquadratic 
 equation may be satisfied by four different values of x, 
 viz. because we may take x equal to any one of the four 
 quantities a, b, c, d. 
 
 239. Since the last term of the auxiliary cubic equa- 
 tion z^—/z-+gz — /t=:0, or substituting the values of/, 
 g, and //, 
 
 z>-^az'+{J^^+lc)z-,\b-=0, 
 
 must always be negative, whatever be the sign of b, it 
 follows that when its three roots /;, </, r, are real, they 
 must either be all positive, or only one of them must be 
 positive, and tlie other two negative; for the last term 
 being the product of all the roots taken with contrary 
 signs (§ 217.), it can only be negative when all the roots 
 are positive, or one positive and two negative. In the 
 former case it is manifest, from the expressions given 
 in § 237. for the roots of the biquadratic equation x* — 
 iix' — bx — f^O, that then these roots will be all real, 
 but in the latter that all the roots will be imaginary, ex- 
 cepting, however, the case when the negative quantities 
 are equal, for then they will destroy each other in two 
 of the roots, which will thus become real and equal. 
 
 240. When the auxiliary equation has one real and 
 two imaginary roots, its real root must be positive. For 
 the two imaginary roots can only be derived from an 
 equation of the second degree having its last term po- 
 sitive, and therefore of this form z'-fA^+EzrO ; and 
 this being the case, the factor of the first degree which 
 contains the real root must be of the form z — /t, for 
 otherwise the last term of the product of the first fac- 
 tor by the second would not be negative as it ought 
 to be. 
 
 By resolving the equation z^-J-Ar+BurO, which by 
 hypothesis has two imaginary roots, we find two values 
 of I having this form 
 
 zZZ»!-\-n\/ — 1, z:^oi — ?;y' — I 
 
 where m and 7i denote real quantities, viz. — iA and ^i/ 
 (4B— A"). Hence we have for /;, q, r, the roots of the 
 auxiliary cubic equation these values 
 
 fiZZ'n -f- n -J — 1 , q'^.ni — ;; v' — 1 , r=k ; 
 
 so that in two of the four values of the roots of the 
 biquadratic equations we have a quantity of this forni 
 -v/C'^ + ^n/ — ') + v/("' — "\/ — '); but this quantity, al- 
 though in appearance imaginary, is indeed real ; for if 
 we square it, and then take its square root, it becomes 
 v'[2m + 2^(77j- +?;')], which is a real quantity. The 
 othertwo roots involve this other expression »/{m-\-n,/ 
 — — V('" — "\/ — '), which being treated like the 
 former, becomes </[2w — 2^(;h- +« = )], an imaginary 
 quantity, and therefore the roots into which it enters 
 are imaginary. 
 
 241. It appears therefore, upon the whole, that all the 
 roots of a biquadratic equation may be real, or they may 
 be all imaginary, or two may be real and two imaginary; 
 and these are all the varieties that can take place in uu 
 equation of the fourth order. 
 
 Sect. XI. General Profiertics of Equations. 
 
 242. We have now given general resolutions of the 
 first four orders of equations, from which they are found 
 to have the following properties. 
 
 1. In any equation of the first degree .r=«, or, bring- 
 ing its terms to one side x — a=0, the unknown quantity 
 x has one value only. 
 
 2. Every equation x'+/ix-\-q=0 of the second degree 
 admits of being resolved into two simple factors x — u. 
 X — b, where a and b denote quantities made up of the 
 coefficients /2, q, so that we have 
 
 a»-f//.r + 9=(r-~«)(.r— 6)=0
 
 438 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 by which il happens that r has two dislinci values, viz. 
 j::=a and .J~(!', each of which substituted instead of x in 
 the equation makes it:=0, or satisfies the equation. 
 
 3. Every equation x^+/i.v2 + </x + r::z>.^ of the third 
 degree admits of being resolved into three simple fac- 
 tors X — a, X — f>, X — c, where a, b, c, denote quantities 
 made up of /;, y, and r, so that 
 
 .r'^+/;.t2+7,r+7-zr(x— a)(.r— 5)(,r— f)=0, 
 
 by which il Iiappcns that there arc three different values 
 of X, which equally satisfy the equation, viz. x=:a, x— 6, 
 
 X=zC. 
 
 4. Every equation .r'*+/ix3 + (/x2+rx+.s:^0 of the 
 fourth degree may be resolved into four simple factors 
 
 -cc — a,x — h, X — c, X — rf, the quantities a, 6, c, d being as 
 in the other cases made up of the coefficients/;, y, r, s, 
 so that 
 
 x^+/>x^+x(/' + rx + sl 
 ={x-c^Xx-b){x-c)ix-d)^ -""^ 
 
 and hence x has four values, any one of which being 
 substituted instead of it in the equation, causes the whole 
 expression to become ^zO. 
 
 243. With respect to equations of the fifth and higher 
 degrees, having their most general form, no one has 
 hitherto been able to resolve them, notwithstanding the 
 great exertions which the most eminent mathematicians 
 have made for that purpose. So that at present it is 
 doubtful whether it be possible to express their roots by 
 a limited number of algebraic operations (that is, of ad- 
 ditions, subtractions, multiplications, divisions, and ex- 
 tractions of roots generally indicated) in the same man- 
 ner as we have expressed the roots of equations of the 
 first four degrees. 
 
 244. Although, from what has been said, we are cer- 
 tain that it is always possible to substitute in an equation 
 of any of the four first degrees, as many different values 
 for the unknown quantity, as there are units in the num- 
 ber expressing that degree, each of which will satisfy 
 the equation ; yet it has not hitherto been demonstrated 
 to be possible to find even one value of every equation of 
 any degree whatever. As, however, it appears, from 
 the expressions we have found for the roots of equations 
 of the second, third, and fourth degrees, that the exis- 
 tence of the expression for the root is in these entirely 
 independent of the particular values of the coefficients, 
 seeing that it may exist even when the operations indi- 
 cated by it cannot be performed, we may safely take for 
 granted, that there is at least one expression, real or 
 imaginary, which being substituted for the unknown 
 quantity in any crpiation whatever, will give a result the 
 terms of which destroy each other. And this being ad- 
 mitted, it is easy to prove that the same equation is the 
 product of as many simple factors as the number indi- 
 cating its degree contains units, and consequently, 
 that the unknown quantity admits of as many different 
 values. 
 
 245. Let there be taken, for example, the equation 
 x*-f/i,r3-f f/.r^+rx-fsrro of the fourth degree, then ad- 
 mitting that X has at least one value, let that value be a ; 
 thus we have a*+/ia^ + (/a'^+ra + s=0. Let this last 
 equation be subtracted from the former, and we have 
 
 X *—a * +/i (x3 — a3) -\- <j [x^ — a2) + r{x — o)^0. 
 
 But it will be found by actual division, that each of the 
 cpiantities x* — a*, x^ — a^, x^ — a^, is exactly divisible 
 by x — a, and the same is true of any quantity of the form 
 
 j'l — a" , [n being any whole positive number), therefore, 
 observing that jr* — a* divided by x — a, gives x'^-\-ax^-\- 
 
 c~,r-j-fl^ for a cjuotient, and that- 
 
 x2- 
 
 and that-^ ZZx-\-a, wo have the same equation ex- 
 pressed by the product of the simple factor x — nand the 
 factor x^ + {a+/i)x''+{a^+/ia + ij)x + {a^+/ia'' + (ja + r) 
 which is of the third degree, so tliat putting // for a-f/v, 
 y' for a"-}-/'« + (7) and r' for a^'-f/ia^-j-ya-f r, we have 
 X * +/IX ■' -I- f/x^- + rx + sZZ{x—a) {x ^ +fi'x'i + g'x + r*) 
 
 Now this equation may evidently be satisfied in two 
 different ways, namely, by assuming x — a— 0, and by 
 putting x^+//j2-)-,y'x-|-?-'—0; let b denote the value of 
 X, wliich satisfies this last equation, so that i'-f/.'AJ-f- 
 g'b-j-r'^ZO, then, subtracting as before, we find 
 
 x'—b'+/i\x2—b^) + g\x~b)=0; 
 
 which by actually dividing x^ — b^ and x^ — 6^ by x~6. 
 and putting /;" ior b+fi', and g" for 6^-\-/i'b + g', may be 
 expressed thus, (x — b)[x^-\-/t"x+g")zzO ; and we have 
 
 x*-i-fix^ +gx^-{-rx+sZZ[x — a){x—b){x''+/i"x+g") 
 
 by which it appears that there are three ways of satisfy- 
 ing the original equation, namely, by taking x — a^O, 
 X — bz^Q, and x-+/i"x-]-g"zzO. We now treat this last 
 equation exactly as the foregoing ones, and find that if c 
 is the value of x that satisfies it, so that r--f//'c-f (/"^O, 
 then, A-2— c2-f/,"(x— c)=:0, or {x—c)[x+c+fi")z=iO; 
 so that, putting — d for c-\-Ji", we have x-+/i"x4-g"ZZ 
 [x — c){x — d), and consequently 
 
 x*+/!x^ +gx^ -t-rx-^-s— (*• — a) (r — b) (x — c)(x — d). 
 
 Hence it appears that admitting every equation may 
 have one value, then an equation of the fourth degree 
 may be resolved into four simple factors ; and the same 
 mode of reasoning will apply to an equation of any higher 
 degree. Therefore we have good reason to believe that 
 an equation of the wth degree admits of being resolved 
 into n simple factors x — a, x — 6, &c. and consequently 
 that X may have n values «, b, c. Sec. which are either 
 real or imaginary ; but that it can have no more than n 
 such values. 
 
 246. From this general property of equations, we may 
 deduce various general properties of their roots, analo- 
 gous to those we have already proved to belong to equa- 
 tions of the second and third degrees (§ 189. and § 217). 
 
 Let there be taken for example four simple factors 
 X — a, X — b, x—c, X — d, so as to form the equation of 
 the fourth degree 
 
 {x—a) {x—b) {x—c) {x—d)=0. 
 
 Then, by actual multiplication we shall have the same 
 equation otherwise expressed as follows. 
 
 -^1 
 
 -fan 
 
 + ac I - 
 
 ■c f-^ +bc >"" 
 
 dj +bd 
 + cd^ 
 
 2bc'\ 
 
 ibd 
 
 led 
 
 . p>x-|-aAf£/~0. 
 
 J 
 
 Now as we will obtain a result perfectly analogous to 
 this, whatever be the number of factors, it is easy to see 
 that the following general properties belong to the roots 
 of equations of every degree.
 
 ALGEBKA. 
 
 439 
 
 1. The coefficient of the second term taken with a con- 
 trary sign is equal to the sum ol' all the roots. 
 
 2. The cocfticient of the third term is equal to the 
 sum of all the products that can be formed by multiplying 
 the roots two and two. 
 
 3. The coefficient of the fourth term taken with a 
 contrary sign is the sum of all the products of the roots 
 taken three by three, and so on to the last term, which 
 is the product of all the roots with their signs changed. 
 
 247. From the first of these properties we may also 
 infer, that if an equation wants its second term, it has 
 both positive and negative roots, and that the sum of 
 the former is equal to the sum of the latter. 
 
 218. If we suppose any one of the roots of the forego- 
 ing equation to be ~0, then all the c|uantities into which 
 that root enters as a factor will vanish. Thus supposing 
 «— 0, then the equation becomes 
 
 -d 
 
 J +"0 
 
 an equation which wants its last term, and which has 
 therefore all its terms divisible by x. If again we sup- 
 pose two roots of the equation to be ZZO, or that aZ^O, 
 and *~0, then the equation becomes 
 
 X* — {c-'rd)x^ +cdx^-ZZO 
 
 where the two last terms are wanting, and tliereforc all 
 the remaining terms are divisible by j:^. 
 
 In general an equation will want as many of its latter 
 terms as it has roots equal to 0. And if in any equation 
 tlie last term, or the last two terms, £cc. be wanting, it 
 may be considered as having one, or two, &c. roots equal 
 too. 
 
 249. An equation may evidently admit of as many 
 simple divisors x — a, x — 6, kc. as there are units in 
 the number which marks its degree, and no more. It 
 will also admit of as many divisors of the second degree, 
 as there can be products formed from its simple divisors, 
 taking them two by two ; and as many divisors of the 
 third degree, as there can be products formed of its sim- 
 ple factors, taking them three by three, and so on. For 
 example, the foregoing equation of the fourth degree 
 will admit of six divisors of the second degree, and may 
 be formed from the product of two such factors in six 
 different ways, thus. 
 
 By the product of {x — a) [x — b) and (r — c) {x — d) 
 {x—a)[x—c) lx—b)\x—d) 
 {x—ci){x—d) \x—h)[x—c) 
 
 {x — b){x — f) 
 (x— A)(x— (/) 
 [x — c){x — d) 
 
 250. In resolving equations of the second, third, and 
 fourth degrees, we have found, that the imaginary roots 
 of these equations occur always in pairs. It has also ap- 
 peared, (§ 192, 223, 240.) that each pair has this form 
 
 {x — (/) [x — d) 
 {x — a\yx — c) 
 {x—u){x—b) 
 
 711-^ t^ — n^, m — i/- 
 
 or, bringing n from under the 
 
 radical sign, ni-\-n,/ — 1, m — ?;y' — 1, where 7n and 7i de- 
 note real quantities, so that the two corresponding ima- 
 ginary factors of the first degree are x — m — nv' — 1, 
 X — m-\-nn/ — 1; and their product is x^ — 2mx-\-m--{-n^ 
 a real quantity. 
 
 Such being the nature of the imaginary roots of three 
 different classes of equations, we are led by analogy to 
 suppose, that the imaginary roots of equations of all de- 
 grees exist only in pairs, and are of the form m+rii/ — 1, 
 
 m — ?i^ — 1 ; and this conjecture will be actually veri- 
 fied, if wc attempt to form equations by the multiplica- 
 tions of simple factors containing imaginary expressions; 
 for we shall always find, that the product of any odd 
 number of such factors is an imaginary expression, and 
 that the same is also true ot an even number, unless 
 they can be classed in pairs having their real and also 
 their imaginary parts the same, but the latter with con- 
 trary signs ; and this being the case, each pair of ima- 
 ginary factors may be united, so as to form a real factor 
 of the second degree, from which it will follow, that 
 every equation whatever must admit of being resolved 
 into real factors, which are either of the first or of the 
 second degree. This is a most important proposition in 
 the theory of equations, which however has nothitlierto 
 been demonstrated without assuming, as true, another 
 proposition, which has never yet been conqiletely de- 
 monstrated, and to which we have already alluded, 
 namely, that every equation may be resolved into as 
 many simple factors as there are units in the exponent 
 of its degree. 
 
 251. From what has been stated concerning the im- 
 possible roots of an equation, it will also follow, that 
 every equation, whose degree is an odd number, must 
 have at least one real root, and when its degree is an 
 even number, if it has one real root, then it must have 
 at least two real roots. 
 
 252. If the roots of an equation be all positive, so that 
 the factors to be multiplied have this form x — a, x — b, 
 X — c, &c. then, taking for the sake of brevity only three 
 such factors, so as to form the equation of the third de- 
 gree, 
 
 x^ — [a-Yb-\-c)x''-\-{ab-\-ac-\-bc)x — abcZZO. 
 
 it is manifest, that, in every such equation, the coeffi- 
 cients of the terms will have the signs + and — prefix- 
 ed to them alternately. 
 
 253. If again we suppose the roots to be all negative, 
 in which case the factors have this other form x-\-a, 
 x-\-b, x-\-c, and the equation is 
 
 x^+{a + b + c)x'^+[ab+ac-\-bc)x + abc-:^0. 
 
 then the terms have all the same sign. 
 
 254. In general, if the roots of an equation be all real, 
 it will have as many positive roots as there are changes 
 of the signs from + to — , and from — to -f , and the 
 remaining roots will be negative. The rule docs not 
 apply, however, when there are imaginary roots, unless 
 they be regarded as either positive or negative. This 
 rule may be proved by induction in equations of the 
 second and third degrees, as follows. 
 
 255. In quadratic equations, the roots are either both 
 positive, as in this, 
 
 (or — a){x — b)=x~ — {a-\-b)x^ab^O, 
 
 where there are two changes of the sign ; or they are 
 both negative, as in this, 
 
 {x-lfa){x + b)=x' ■\-{a-lrb)x+ab=0, 
 
 where there is no change of the signs; or there is one 
 positive and one negative, as in 
 
 (x — a){x-\-b)=:x'^ — (fi — b)x — ab=0, 
 
 where there is necessarily one change of the signs, be- 
 cause the first term is positive, and the last negative ; 
 and there can only be one change, whether the second 
 term be taken as positive or negative.
 
 440 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 256. Again, iu cubic ('.(luauons, selling aside the cases 
 in which ihf roots arc ciihcv all posiiive, or all nega- 
 tive, and in which the rule is nmnifeslly true, (§ 252, 
 253.) there are only other two, namely, that of two posi- 
 tive roots and one ncgati^e. and that of two negative 
 roots and one positive. First, in the case of two posi- 
 tive roots and one negative, the equation is (c — n){.r-—b) 
 (x-f c)=0, which gives 
 
 — b yx- — ac V.r-|-nAc~0. 
 +c] —br} 
 
 Here there nius^t be two changes of the signs; because, 
 if o-f 6-;p^e, the second term must be negative, its co- 
 efficient being — a — b-\-c; and, if a-f/j.c^c, then, multi- 
 plying by a-\-b, we have (a-\-b)^^ ac + bc ; but it is ob- 
 vious shal f'fi .^ Ca-j.f>y-j therefore also ab^ ac-\-bc, and 
 hence the third term will be negative; thus either the 
 second or the thiid term will be negative ; now the first 
 and last terms arc both posiiive, therefore, in this case, 
 there must be two changes of the signs. Next, in the 
 case of one positive root, and two negative, the equation 
 is (x-fn)(j.- + i)(.t: — c,) or 
 
 -\-b yx^ — ac yx — c6f~0, 
 -c) -be] 
 
 of their factors, we have the same cquationb expressed 
 thus, 
 
 .r'^-c "J -\-ab "j 
 
 — I) yx2 — ac yx+abcZZO, 
 
 + cj -be] 
 
 v^+al +ab^ 
 
 + 4 yx^ — ac yx — abcZZO, 
 -c] —be] 
 
 where it is manifest, that the two equations differ from 
 each other only in the signs of their second and tourth 
 terms; and the samo will be found to be true, whatever 
 be the degree of the equation. 
 
 259. It is often useful to transform an equation into 
 another that shall have its roots greater or less than 
 those of the proposed equation, by some given difference. 
 Let the proposed equation be x^-\-/ix'^-{-r/x-}-r':zX>; and 
 let it be required to transform it into another, whose 
 roots shall be less than the roots of this equation, by the 
 difference e. Suppose y to be the general expression 
 for each of the roots of the new equation, then y=x — e 
 and x=y-{-e. Instead of x, and its powers, substitute 
 y+e, and its powers; and there will arise this new 
 equation 
 
 where there must be always one change in the sign, 
 since the first term is positive, and the last negative. 
 There can, however, be no more llian one change ; for, 
 it a-\-b.^:^c, so that the second term is negative, then, as 
 in the last case, we shall have /7/i^^«r-f-/)r, so that the 
 third term will also be negative. And if the second 
 term be affirmative, whatever the third is, there will be 
 but one change. 
 
 It appears therefore, that, in cubic equations, as well 
 as in quadratic, there are as many positive roots as there 
 are changes of the signs. And as the same way of rea- 
 soning will apply also to equations of higher degrees, 
 the rule will extend to all equations whatever. 
 
 Sect. XII. Of the Transformation of Equations. 
 
 257. There are certain transformations which must fre- 
 quently be performed upon equations of the higher de- 
 grees, with a view to facilitate their resolution. Of these 
 the most useful are the following : 
 
 258. Any equation may be transformed into another, 
 which shall be so related to the fomier, that the nega- 
 tive roots of the one shall have the same values as the 
 positive roots of the other, (setting aside the considera- 
 tion of their signs) ; and, on the contrary, the posiiive 
 roots of the one, the same values as the negative roots 
 of the other, by only changing the signs of the terms 
 alternately, beginning with the second. For example, 
 let the equation be x* — x'^ — 19x2-|-49x — 30=0; the 
 roots of which are -f 1, -)-2, -|-3, and — 5, then, changing 
 the signs of the second and fourth terms, we have this 
 other equation, x'*-|-x'' — 19x2 — 49^- — 30:=0, the roots 
 of which are — 1, — 2, — 3, and +5. 
 
 To understand the reason of this rule, let there be 
 taken these two equations. 
 
 (x — a\{x — 6)(x-f-f):rO, 
 (x+a)(x-f4)(x— r)=:0, 
 
 which have the posiiive roots of the one the same as the 
 negative roots of the other. Then, taking the products 
 
 i/'4.3e!/'^-f3e==i/ + f^ 
 
 -f./!J/'^+2/i-'I/+/ 
 
 
 9y+ 
 
 + 
 
 each of the roots of which is less than a corresponding 
 root of the equation x^-f/ix^-f yx-f-n^O by the num- 
 ber e. 
 
 260. If it is required to transform the equation into 
 another whose roots shall exceed those of the proposed 
 equation by the quantity e, we have only to assume y = 
 x-l-f, and therefore, x=y—e, and substitute as before. 
 
 261. In this way we may transform an equation into 
 another, that shall want any one of its terms ; for if in 
 the new equation we give e such a value as shall make 
 the coefficient of that term equal to nothing, then the 
 term will evidently vanish. Thus the coefficient of the 
 second term of the foregoing transformed equation will 
 vanish, if we assume 3e-{-p'^0, or f~ — !■/;. And in like 
 manner the third term may be taken away, by assuming 
 Se''-{-2/ie+cjZ^0; from which quadratic equation, we 
 get e=^[—/i=±z^{/r—og)']. 
 
 262. If when the terms of an equation are cleared 
 from fractions, the highest power of the unknown quan- 
 tity have a coefficient, as in this example nx^+/ix'^ -{-gx 
 -\-r=^0. the equation will be changed into another, tliat 
 shall still have its coefficients integral quantities, and at 
 the same time, the coefficient of its highest power unity, 
 
 by assuming y^^nx, or x=-. Thus tlie above equation 
 
 becomes ^-^ — ^V^ "^ — !/-f-'"=0; or y^+fiy^ + gny+n^r 
 ~0, an equation having the form required. 
 
 Sect. XIII. Of the Extermination of Unknown Quan- 
 tities from Eguations. 
 
 263. We have already shown al § 119, how the un- 
 known quantities are to be exterminated from simple 
 equations, and we have there explained three different 
 methods by which this maybe effected. We shall now 
 show how the last of these may be applied to extermi-
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 441 
 
 nate the unknown quantities contained in equations of 
 the higher orders. 
 
 264. Let us suppose that the relation between two 
 unknown quantities x and y is expressed by these two 
 equations of the seeond degree. 
 
 ar2 + a'xy -f- 6'x + r'i/' + rf'y + '■ — 0, 
 
 where, a, A, r, See. also a', b\ c', See. denote known quan- 
 tities, and that it is required to externiinate the quan- 
 tity X. 
 
 First, in order to simplify, we shall put ni/-f-6^:P, ay 
 -fi'rrP', r!/*-|-rf!/ + f=:Q, c-V^'-fAH-'— Q') t'len the 
 same equations, by substitution, become 
 
 ar>4.Pa:-f Q— 0, :r2+P'.r+Q'— 0. 
 
 From the first of these equations, let the second be 
 subtracted, and we have 
 
 _ Q'-Q 
 P— ?'■ 
 
 Again, to obtain another value of x, let the first equa- 
 tion be multiplied by Q' and the second by Q, and tJius 
 we get 
 
 Q'x2+PQ'jr+QQ'=0, Qx'2 + P'Qx-J-QQ'=0, 
 
 and hence, taking the second of these equations from 
 the first, 
 
 (Q— Q)^=+ (PQ'-P'Q)^=o, 
 
 p'O PO' 
 
 that is, (Q'-Q)x+PQ'_P'Q=o, or ^— ^_ _^ ■ 
 
 Therefore, putting these two values of x equal to one 
 another, we have 
 
 (P_P')x-f Q— Q'rzO, and XZZ- 
 
 Q'— Q _P'Q- 
 P— P' 
 
 -PQ' 
 
 Q'-Q ' 
 
 or (Q'— Q)2iz(P— P')(P'Q— PQ'). 
 
 If we now substitute instead of the letters P, P', Q, 
 Q', the compound quantities which they represent, we 
 shall evidently have an equation involving only y and 
 known quantities. 
 
 265. Next let it be required to exterminate the quan- 
 tity X from these two equations of the third degree 
 
 ^^-fPx^-fQ:r+Rn:0, 
 
 X ^ + P':c ^ -f- Q'x -f R'rzo, 
 
 where P, Q, R, P', Q', R' denote any expressions con- 
 taining the first three powers of another unknown quan- 
 tity I/, and known quantities. 
 
 First, by subtracting the one equation from the other 
 we get 
 
 (P— P')^ 2 -f (Q— Q')x -f R— R'zro. 
 
 Again, by multiplying the first equation by R', and 
 the second by R, and taking the one result from the 
 other, we have 
 
 (R'~R)x ' 4 (PR'~P'R)a; 2 -}- (QR'— Q'R) x=0. 
 
 or, dividing by x, 
 
 (R'— R)ar2 + (PR'— P'R)^+QR'— Q'Rr^O. 
 
 We have now reduced the difficulty to the extermi- 
 nation of X from two equations of the second degree, 
 and we have shown how this is to be done in last §. 
 
 266. It is sufficiently obvious how by this method of 
 proceeding we may exterminate a quantity contained in 
 two equations of the fourth, or any higher degree ; and 
 the method is alike applicable, whether the two equa- 
 tions be of the same, or of different degrees. And if m 
 
 Vol I. Part II. 
 
 and n be the orders of the two equations from which the 
 unknown ([Uantities is to be exterminated, the order of 
 the final equation at last oljtaincd ought not to exceed 
 mn. It may be less, but if it conic out greater, the equa- 
 tion admits of a divisor, which in most cases may be 
 easily discovered. 
 
 If the relations of any number of unknown quantities 
 whatever were given by as many equations, it is easy to 
 see, that by proceeding according to the nictliod here ex- 
 phuned, wc might exterminate them one after anotlier, 
 till at last there was only one unknown quantity and one 
 etj nation. 
 
 267. The same mode of proceeding may also be ap- 
 plied with advantage to the freeing of an equation from 
 radical quantities, by making each siud equal to a new 
 unknown C[uantity, and by exterminating from these as- 
 sumed equations and the given equation, all the unknown 
 quantities but one. 
 
 For example, let there be given the equation 
 
 X — 1^ a- x—t/ {x- — 0^)30, 
 to detemiine x. 
 
 Make s/a^x^ii, and \/{x'^ — a^)";, then n-jr— v', 
 and x'^ — a'^'ZZ.z- ; so that wc have these three equa- 
 tions, 
 
 X — y — z— 0,a2x — ij^-=.0, z' — x~-\-a'^'^.0. 
 
 From the first equation, we have zzz^ — y, and -^ — -r^ — 
 2xy-\-y^ ; let this value of z^ be substituted in the third 
 equation, and it becomes x^ — 2xy-\-y'^ — x -\-n.^ — o ; 
 that is, J/'^ — 2xi/-j-fi^i:zO. Now we have also a^:r — y^ — n, 
 and from these we may exterminate ?/, as in the follow- 
 ing process : 
 
 1/2 — 2,ri/-|-n2— 0, 
 
 (1) Equation, 
 
 (2) Equation, 
 {\\ Mult, by y, 
 (2) Subtracted, 
 
 2x— 0, 
 
 y3—2xy^+a'-y—0, 
 — 2xy'^ -\-a~ y -\- a- x'^.O 
 (1) Mult, by 2x, -|-2j?!/- — ix-y + 2a^x-:^0. 
 Add these last, (3) (a^ — 4:X^)y-\.^a^xzzO. 
 
 Therefore, y^-r- 
 ^ a-- 
 
 -ix~ 
 
 (3) Mult, by y, («= — ix^)y'^ + 3a'Xij::zO. 
 
 (1) Mult, by {a-—4x'), {a^—4x2)y^—2a^xyl 
 
 -\-8x^y+a* — ia^x- 5 — 
 This sub. (5a^x — 8j;3)z/-f 4a2x2— a*=0. 
 
 Therefore y= 
 
 i* — 4a^x2 
 
 Sa^x — Sx3 
 Hence, equating the values of y, we have 
 
 a*—~4a^x^ — Sa^x 
 
 and (a2 — 4:x~)-= — 3x[5a^x — 8x^), 
 or 8x — 7a-x^ — rt*=0. 
 
 The equation being now freed from radicals, may be re- 
 solved in the manner of a quadratic (see § 197.) 
 
 Sect. XIV. Of the Resolution of Numerical Equations 
 
 having Rational Roots. 
 
 268. It has been proved at § 246. that in any equa- 
 tion, the last term is the product of all its roots. Hence 
 it follows, that if an e(|uation have any rational roots, 
 that is, any roots expressible by numbers, they will ne- 
 cessarily be divisors of its last term. Therefore, what- 
 3 K
 
 442 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 ever be the degree of an equation having its coefficients 
 integral mimbcrs, antl the coefficient of its highest power 
 unity, to discover its rational roots, we have only to 
 bring all its terms lo one side of the equation, and 
 to find the divisors of its last term, and substitute 
 them one after another for the unknown quantity ; 
 and those numbers, which being so substituted, pro- 
 duce a result :^0, are the rational roots of the equa- 
 tion. 
 
 For example, let the equation be x^ — 6x2-f-27x — 38 
 =0. 
 
 In this case the divisors of the last term are 1, 2, 19, 
 38. We therefore substitute these numbers succes- 
 sively, first with the sign -+-, and then with the sign — , 
 for x; but the only number that makes the whole —0 is 
 + 2. Hence we conclude that +2 is a root of the equa- 
 tion. 
 
 269. We may now easily discover the remaining roots ; 
 for the equation will have ,r — 2 as a simple divisor, § 
 '249. We have therefore enly to divide it by that divi- 
 sor, and put the quotient ^:0 ; and accordingly we get 
 this quadratic equation x^ — 4x-f-19:i:0, the roots of 
 which are the imaginary expressions, 2 + .y/ — 15 and 
 2 — ^ — 15 ; hence upon the whole the roots of the equa- 
 tion x^ — 6jr2+27a- — 38zrO arc .rzr2, xzZ'2 + '\/ — 15, 
 x:^2 — ^ — 15, one of which is real and the others 
 imaginary. 
 
 270. As a second example, let the equation be 
 ^4 — 5^.3 — ^24jr^-|-100x-f48:^0. Here the divisors to 
 be used are 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 12, 16, 24, 48, and of these 
 4 and 6 only give a result =0; therefore x — 4 and 
 r~6. 
 
 We may discover the remaining roots by proceeding 
 as in the last example ; for two of the simple divisors of 
 the equation ai-e x — 4 and x—6, therefore, dividing the 
 equation by these factors successively, and making the 
 results ^0, we have this quadratic, -z-^ +5:c-)-2=:0, the 
 
 r ,•. — 5 + v/17 —5— v'17 ^, 
 roots of which are ^ — and . There- 
 fore the four values of x are 
 
 _. —. _— 5 + V^"' _— 5— x/l? 
 
 X^i, X^O, XZZ , -X^^ ~ 
 
 2 — 2 
 
 all which are real, but the two last irrational. 
 
 271. When the divisors are numerous, the labour 
 of substituting them for the unknown quantity may be 
 very considerable. A rule however may be investi- 
 gated, which will greatly abridge it, by reasoning as fol- 
 lows. 
 
 Let the equation to be resolved be x' -\-/}x^-\-qx-i-7-=0. 
 Then, if we transform it into another whose roots are 
 less by unity, which may be done by assuming ?/~x — 1, 
 or x^i/-\-\ (§ 259.) we shall find the last term of 
 the transformed equation to be l-f/' + y+r"; and, on 
 the other hand, if we transform it into an equation 
 having its roots greater by unity, which is to be done 
 by assuming i/'=x-\-l; or x-^:y' — I, we shall have 
 — 1+/' — q+rior the last term of the resulting equa- 
 tion. 
 
 Now, for the very same reason that the values of ,r 
 are divisors of the last term r, the values of y and 2/ 
 will be divisors of the last terms l+Z'+y+r, and 
 — 1+/' — q-\-r, respectively. But, by hypothesis, the 
 three quantities ;/, x, y', taken in their order, differ, each, 
 from the one before it, by unity. Therefore if x have 
 
 any rational values, we shall find among the divisors of 
 the three quantities 
 
 + '+/' + '/ + '•, r, —\+/i—,j+r, 
 as many sets of numbers as x has such values, each of 
 wliich sets will be three terms of an arithmetical scries. 
 If we now remark that the three quantities 1 +/i + fj-i-r, 
 r, and — \-\-/i — y-f-r, are the results found when -f 1, 
 and — I, are substituted in the equation x^+/ix^ + r/x+ 
 r=0, the reason of the following rule will be sufficiently 
 obvious. 
 
 272. Substitute three or more terms of the series 
 -fl, 0, — 1, &c. in place of the unknown quantity, and 
 find all the divisors of the sums that result; then take 
 out all the arithmetical progressions, whose common 
 difference is 1, that can be found among these divisors, 
 and the values of x will be among those terms of the 
 progressions which are the divisors of the result arising 
 from the supposition of xzz.0. Wlicn the series in- 
 creases the roots will be positive, and when it decreases 
 they will be negative. 
 
 Jixamfile. It is required to determine whether the 
 equation -r 3 — 5^2 — 18j--|-72z:0 has any rational roots, 
 and what they are. 
 
 In the application of the rule, it will be convenient to 
 place the substitutions, the results, the divisors, and the 
 progressions, as in the following table : 
 
 Sub. 
 
 Res. 
 
 Divisors. 
 
 Progres. | 
 
 + 1 
 
 
 
 — 1 
 
 50 
 72 
 84 
 
 1. 2. 5. 10. 25. 50. |l 
 1. 2. 3. 4. 6. 8. 9. 12. 18, kc. 2 
 I. 2. 3. 4. 6. 7. 12. 14. 21, &c. 3 
 
 2 5 
 
 3 4 
 
 4 3 
 
 5 
 6 
 7 
 
 Here we find four arithmetical progressions, three in- 
 creasing, and one decreasing. The middle term of the 
 first, which is an increasing one, is 2, therefore -f 2 is 
 to be tried as a value of x, but being substituted in 
 the equation, it docs not produce a result ^0, there- 
 fore it is to be rejected. Next, we tiy 3, the mid- 
 dle term of the second progression ; and, as it is in- 
 creasing, we must take +3, now this number when sub- 
 stituted for X gives a result 1^0; therefore 5 is a root 
 of the equation. The next progression decreases, 
 therefore, in trying the middle term 4, we must prefix 
 to it the sign — . Accordingly, substituting — 4 instead 
 of X, we get a result ^0 ; therefore — 4 is a second 
 root of the equation. The next is an increasing pro- 
 gression, therefore, in trying the middle term 6, we 
 give it the sign -f, and, as it produces a result ^0, we 
 conclude +6 to be a root. Hence it appears that all the 
 roots are rational, and that the equation is produced by 
 taking the product of the three simple factors x — 3,x-\-i, 
 and X — 6. 
 
 273. When the highest power of the unknown quan- 
 tity has a coefficient, before we apply the preceding rule 
 to determine its rational roots, we must, (by § 262.) trans- 
 form the equation into another that shall have unity for 
 the coefficient of its highest power, and the remaining 
 coefficients integral numbers. 
 
 Thus, if the equation were 2x^ — 5x=-f-5x — oZZO, we 
 
 must transform it by making ■^— tj and thus the equa- 
 tion becomes —y^ — 1^^"'"9^ — 3~0, or y~^ — Sy^ -\-\0y^- 
 12—0; and hence, by proceeding according to the rule,
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 44i 
 
 \Ve shall find one value of j/ to be +3 ; therefore the cor- 
 
 3 
 responding value of x is -, and this is the only rational 
 
 value that x has in the equation. 
 
 274. The coefficients of the terms of an equation be- 
 ing supposed whole numbers, and that of its highest 
 power unity, if it have no root among the divisors of 
 its last term, then we may be certain, not only that 
 it has no root expressible by a whole number, but 
 also that it has no root expressible by a fraction. For 
 if it were possible that the root of such an equation as 
 x^-\-fix''' ■\-qx-\-r-^.Q (where /;, y, and r are whole 
 numbers,) could be a fraction, let that fraction, when 
 
 reduced to its lowest terms, be -, then we should have 
 
 — +/;^+9'4+''=:0, and a^+/ia^+qab'+rb^^O, and 
 
 a' 
 hence —^ — (/ia^+yai+ri^^IZ a whole number. But 
 
 a and b being by hypothesis prime to one another, a^ 
 and 6 will also be prime to one another, (§ 163.) and 
 
 hence -r- cannot be a whole number. Therefore it is 
 
 
 
 impossible that the root of the equation can be a rational 
 fraction. 
 
 Sect. XV. Of Equations having Equal Roots. 
 
 275. Let a, 6, and c, be the roots of the cubic equation 
 x3+/ix^+gx+r=0, so that {x — a){x — b)[x — c)=0, 
 and let 
 
 A —(x — a)(jc — 6)=x2 — {(i-{-b)x-i-ab, 
 
 A' ={x — a)(x — c)=x2 — {a-^c)x-{-ac, 
 A" = lx—bXx—c)=x'—{b+c)x + bc, 
 
 then, taking the sum of these three equations, we have 
 
 A + A.'+A"=2x2—2{a+b + c)x + ab+ac + bc. 
 
 But from the nature of equations we have (by § 246.) 
 
 — (a+6+c)3:/;, ab+ac+dc=q. 
 
 Therefore we have also 
 
 A+A'+A"=3xi+2/ix+g. 
 
 276. Let us now suppose, that two of the roots of 
 the cubic equation x^^\-/lx^•\•(/x-^-r=0 are equal to 
 one another, or that a=b; then will x — a — jC — b; now 
 one or other of these two equal factors is found in each 
 of the three quantities. A, A', A", therefore their sum 
 A+A'-\-A"=3x^-i-2/2x+g must have x — a or x — b 
 for a divisor ; and hence it follows, that if the cubic equa- 
 tion 
 
 x^-\-fix^-^gx+r=0 
 
 has two equal roots, then will one of these be also a root 
 of the quadratic equation 
 
 3x^-f2/ix-f y— 0. 
 
 277. Again, let a, b, c, rf, be the roots of an equa- 
 tion of the fourth degree x*-i-fix^-t-gx^ -j-rx-\-.'i — 0, so 
 that 
 
 {x — a) {x — b) {x — c) [x — rf)=0. 
 Let us now assume 
 
 A ~(.i- — a)(.r — bj[x — c). 
 A' =:{x—a)(x—b)(x—cl), 
 A" =i{x—a)li—c) (x—d), 
 A"'=z(x~b) (x—c) {x—d) . 
 
 Then, by multiplication, wc find 
 
 A =x^ — a' 
 
 A' =x^ 
 
 —b 
 
 —d 
 A" =x^—a 
 -c 
 
 —d 
 A"'=x3_4 
 
 — rf 
 
 — a") -\-ab'\ 
 
 —b Ix^-fac I 
 
 — fj -fArJ 
 
 1 +ab ) 
 
 ).x^Jr"d )■ 
 
 J +bdS 
 
 — a 1 +ac ") 
 
 —d) +cd) 
 
 be, 
 
 X — abd. 
 
 2cd, 
 
 >x 
 
 -abc 
 -abd 
 -acd 
 -bed 
 
 + cd 
 +bc) 
 ■ x'-\-bd Vx — ic(/, 
 
 and taking the sum of these four equations, 
 
 A+A'+A"— A"'=4x3— 3a^ +2ah-\ 
 —3b I „, + 2«c 
 —3c f +2ad 
 —3d} -f26c 
 + 2bd 
 + 2cd^ 
 But it has been shewn, (§ 246.) that 
 
 —{a + b + c + d)=li 
 
 ab-\-ac-\-ad-\-bc-\-bd-\-cd=g, 
 — {abc-]-abd-\-acd-{-bcd)-=r; 
 
 therefore we have also 
 
 A -f A' + A" + A"'=:4jc3 + 3iix'^ -\-2gx+r. 
 
 278. Let us now suppose, that two roots of the equa- 
 tion x'^-\-fix^-\-gx''--\-rx-\-s=0 are equal to one another, 
 or that a=b ; then the factors x — a and x — b will be 
 equal, and as one or other of these two factors enter 
 into each of the four products A, A', A", A'", it is mani- 
 fest that their sum, or A-f-A'+A"-f A"'=4x^-f 3/ix2+ 
 2(/x-f-r, will be divisible by x — a or x — b. And hence 
 it will follow that one of the equal roots a or b of the 
 equation 
 
 x-''-^/ixi-\-gx^ -}-rx+s=0, 
 
 is also a root of the equation 
 
 4x3 + 3/ix'^ -{-2gx+r=0. 
 
 279. If again we suppose the proposed equation, to 
 have three equal roots, so that a=b = c, and consequent- 
 ly or— a~.r — b=x — c, then as two of tliese three equal 
 factors enter into each of the four products A, A', A", 
 A'", their sum 4x^-\-3/!x^-j-2gx-^-r must be divisible 
 by i^x — o)2. From which it will follow, that if the equa- 
 tion 
 
 x*-\-/!x3-\-gx'^ + rx-\-s=0 
 
 have three equal roots, then two of these are also equal 
 roots of the equation 
 
 4x3-\-3/ix^-{-2r/x+rZZ.O 
 
 and, in general, whatever number of equal roots the 
 former of these equations may have, they will all, ex- 
 cept one, be also equal roots of tlie latter. 
 
 280. The mode of reasoning which we have here 
 employed will apply alike to equations of all degrees, 
 and the conclusion will be the same, whether the equa- 
 tion contain only one set of equal roots, or several sets. 
 Thus from the equation 
 
 X^+/ix'> + gx^+rx'^ +sx + tTZO, 
 3 K 2
 
 ■144. 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 by protcccling ab in Uic two I'oruici- cases, wc shall get 
 this otiicr equation 
 
 and these two equations will appear, by reasoning as 
 before, to be so related to each other, that if the former 
 have two roots, each equal to a, and three roots, each 
 equal to b, then the latter will have one root equal to a, 
 and two roots each ecjual to A ; so that if the former 
 etiuation have for divisors (x — «)^ and (jt — by the lat- 
 ter will have for divisors (r — a) and (.r — b)^. 
 
 281. By slight attention to the law of the coefficients 
 of the two equations, which we have deduced from the 
 equations of the third and fourth degrees, in § 276 and 
 § 278, it will be easy to infer, that, ?i being a whole po- 
 sitive number, if the equation 
 
 ar"-(-/;x''-i + yjr''-2. . .-{-sx'^-^tx + uZZO 
 
 have a divisor of the form (,r — a) '' (,r — b)''{x — c) ' then 
 this other equation 
 
 nx^-^-\-{7t — l)/2x"-2-f(ra— 2)yx''-3. . .■\-2sx+fZZ0 
 
 will have a divisor of the form {x — a)*-'(jt: — bf-'^{x — c) 
 '~^ And as this last expression will be a common divi- 
 sor of both equations, it may always be discovered by 
 means of the rule given at § 72, for finding the com- 
 mon measure of two algebraic quantities. 
 
 Example. It is required to determine whether the 
 equation x* — Zx^ — (,x^-\-2&x — 24::zO has equal roots. 
 
 Here, proceeding by the formula, we deduce from 
 the proposed equation this other equation Ax^ — 9j;2 — 
 12x4-28=0. We next seek the common divisor of the 
 two expressions x* — 3x' — 6x^-f28x — 24, and ix^ — 
 9a.-2 — 12x-f 28, by § 72, and find it to be x^ — ix + i. 
 Now this expression being put ZZO, and resolved as an 
 equation of the second degree, is found to be the pro- 
 duct of the two equal factors .r — 2 and x — 2 ; therefore 
 the proposed equation has a divisor of the form [x — 2)', 
 and consequently has three equal roots, each ~2. The 
 remaining root is easily found to be — 3. 
 
 Sect. XVI. Method of atiprox'nnating to the Roots of 
 jVumerical Rquations of alt Degrees. 
 
 282. It will very seldom happen, that the equations 
 which occur in the actual applications of algebra to the 
 resolutions of questions, have rational roots ; and when 
 they are irrational, and the equation is of a higher de- 
 gree than the fourth, then, in general, we can exhibit 
 no other than approximate values of them. We can, 
 however, carry on the approximation to any degree of 
 accuracy we please, by methods which apply to equa- 
 tions of all degrees, and which, even in equations of 
 the third and fourth degrees, will be found more conve- 
 nient than the rules we have already investigated. 
 
 283. When it is proposed to find an approximate va- 
 lue of a root, we must first find two numbers, one of 
 which is greater, and the other less than the root. The 
 determination of these will be much facilitated by the 
 two following theorems. 
 
 284. I. If, when all the terms of an equation are 
 brought to one side, there be two such numbers, as if 
 substituted for the unknown quantity, give results with 
 contrary signs, then the equation has at least one real 
 root, which is between these numbers. 
 
 To prove this theorem, let us take a particular equa* 
 tion, as for example, 
 
 x3 — ex'i+Tx — 9zrO, 
 
 then, by collecting its positive terms into one sum, and 
 its negative terms into another, we shall have the quan- 
 tity 
 
 x5-f7x— (6x2-1-9) 
 
 Now if we suppose, that, in this expression, x is at 
 first :zO, and that its value increases gradually, so as to 
 become of all degrees of magnitude from upwards, 
 then it is manifest, that the expression x'i-\-7x — (ex* 
 + 9) will also cnange its value, its positive and negative 
 parts both increasing at the same time. But to perceive 
 more clearly tne effect of their joint increase, in changing 
 the value of the expression, it will be convenient to give 
 a few particular values to x. Let us therefore suppose, 
 that among the infinite number of values which x suc- 
 cessively acquires, it has in particular these, 0, 1, 2, 3, 
 4, 5, Sec. Then putting P for x^+7x, the positive part 
 of the expression, and N for 6x^-\-9, its negative part, 
 the corresponding values of x, P, N, and P — N, will be 
 as follows : 
 
 Successive values. 
 
 X. 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, &c. 
 
 P. 0, 8, 22, 48, 92, 160, 258, &c. 
 
 N. 9, 15, 33, 63, 105, 159, 225, &c. 
 
 P— N.— 9,— r,— 11,— 15, — 13, -f- l,+ 33, &c. 
 
 From this table ot the successive values of x, P, N, 
 and P — N, it appears, that while x is increasing from 
 to some number greater than 4, but less than 5, P is 
 always less than N, and consequently P — N^x^-|-7x — 
 (6x^-J-9) is negative. But when x has increased to 5, 
 P has become greater than N, and thus P — N:^x^ -{-7x 
 — (6x2 -j-9) },^s become positive, and continues to be so 
 when X has increased to 6, &c. Hence we may infer, 
 that there is some value of x between 4 and S, corres- 
 ponding to which the values of P and N are equal, and 
 consequently P — N=x^-l-7x — (6x2-|-9)3:0. And this 
 value of X is evidently a root of the equation x^ — 6x^-J- 
 7x — 9—0. 
 
 285. The same mode of reasoning will apply to any 
 other equation ; for calling the sum of its positive terms 
 P, and the sum of its negative terms N, if a and b be 
 two such values of x, as being substituted in the equa- 
 tion, give results with different signs, as one — and the 
 other -f-, this can only have happened, because in one 
 case we had P.£^N, and in the other P-:::^N ; therefore 
 we may be certain, by reasoning as in the foregoing par- 
 ticular example, that there is some value of x between 
 a and b, which would give P^N, or P — NzzO ; that is, 
 such a value of x as satisfies the equation, and is there- 
 fore one of its roots. 
 
 286. II. Let g be the greatest negative coefficient in 
 an equation ; then its positive roots will be contained 
 between and y-f-l. And if the signs of the alternate 
 terms of the equation be changed, beginning with the 
 second, and g' be the greatest negative coefficient of the 
 result, then the negative roots will be contained between 
 and — g' — 1. 
 
 For if we suppose, as in the last theorem, that, the 
 terms of an equation being all brought to one side, the 
 unknown quantity acquires all possible positive values 
 from upwards, then, supposing the equation to have 
 positive roots, it is manifest that the expression forraisd
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 445 
 
 l>y its terms will alternately become positive ;incl nes^a- 
 tive, chanij iig iis sign every time that x fioui being less 
 than a root of the equation becomes grcatci-. Wbcn, 
 however, x has become equal to the greatest positive 
 root, and of" course the expression formed by the terms 
 of the equation has become uro for the last time, then, 
 all greater values of oc will necessarily produce results 
 having the same sign. 
 
 Now that we may find a limit to the values of x, that 
 is, to the roots of the equation, let us take any equation, 
 as for example 
 
 x*-\-lix'' — 7.r2-j-r:c+,9=0, 
 
 Then, if <] be its greatest negative coefFicient, it is 
 evident that the amount of its negative terms cannot 
 possibly exceed the quantity qx^ -\-(jx^ -^qx-\-rj ; tliere- 
 fore whatever positive number substituted for x in the 
 expression 
 
 x* — qx^ — qx^ — qx — q 
 
 gives a positive result, the same number, being substi- 
 tuted for X in the expression 
 
 x^-lf/ix^ — qx'^-\-rx-\-s, 
 
 will also give a positive result. 
 
 Now 
 qx*—q 
 
 the quantity qx'' -^qx^-\-qx-\-q is equal to 
 as may be proved by actually dividing the nu- 
 merator of this last quantity by its denominator ; hence 
 J7* — qx^ — qx"!- — qx — g'=x* — -= ^^ '--. 
 
 Therefore every value of x which being substituted for 
 X in the expression 
 
 x*[x—q — 1)-|-5' 
 X — 1 
 
 gives a positive result, will also give a positive result 
 when substituted in x*-\-/ix^ — gx'^ -\-rx-^-s. But from 
 the form of the above fractional expression, it will ma- 
 nifestly be positive if we make xzz.i/+l, or x-^:^(7-fl, 
 therefore, if in the expression formed by the terms of 
 the equation 
 
 x^+px^—qx^ -f-r.r-f sizO, 
 
 we substitute for .r a number equal to, or greater than 
 g-\-\, the result will always be positive: hence y-fl 
 must be greater than the greatest positive root of the 
 equation. 
 
 287. The second part of the theorem follows imme- 
 diately from the first, by considering that the signs of 
 the alternate tenris of an equation being changed, the 
 result is an equation whose positive roots are identical 
 with the negative roots of the former equation. 
 
 288. We proceed now to show how by means of these 
 two theorems we may approximate to the roots of equa- 
 tions ; and with a view to render the mode of proceed- 
 ing more perspicuous, we shall take a particular exam- 
 ple. Let it therefore be required to approximate to the 
 roots of the equation .r*— 4 r-^ — 3 t-f 27zrO. 
 
 As the greatest negative coefficient of this equation 
 is 4, it follows from § 286, that the greatest positive 
 root is less than 5. Let the signs of the alternate terms 
 of the equation be changed, or, which is the same 
 thing, let — y be substituted for x, and the result is 
 this equation 
 
 y*+4i/+3y + 27—0, 
 
 which having all its terms positive, can have only nega- 
 tive roots. Therefore x is necessarily positive, and the 
 proposed equation has no negative roots. Hence it ap- 
 pears that its real roots are contained between and 
 
 -f5. 
 
 380. But wc may find a limit to the least root nearer 
 than 0. For this purpose make x— -: hence the equa- 
 
 y 
 
 tion becomes 
 
 I 4 3 
 
 — -_-+27=:0, 
 
 y* iji y 
 
 which by proper reduction becomes 
 
 y^——yK 
 ■' 27 -^ 
 
 4 I 
 
 — y-\ =0. 
 
 27^ 27 
 
 In this last equation the greatest value of y cannot 
 4 311 
 
 exceed —-fl, (§286,) that is,— . Butyz:-, thereloro 
 ■^ ' - 7 X 
 
 1.31. . 31.r ,27 27 
 
 :— , hence l-^— -, and—. 
 
 a 
 
 Hence 
 
 27 
 
 It appears that x is contained between ^ and 5. 
 
 31 
 
 290. The most obvious method of obtaining nearer 
 limits of the roots is to suppose successively jcinl, j — 2, 
 x'zZj, -t 3:4 ; and if two numbers substituted in the pro- 
 posed equation give results with contrary signs, these 
 numbers will be new limits of the roots (§ 284.) Ac- 
 cordingly, making these substitutions, we obtain the fol- 
 lowing results. 
 
 Values of x, 1, 2, 3, 4. 
 
 Corresp. resu'.ts, -f21, -f5, — 9, -fls. 
 
 From which it appears that the equation has two real 
 roots, one contained between 2 and 3, and another be- 
 tween 3 and 4. To approach still nearer to the first of 
 these roots, we substitute the mean between 2 and 3, 
 viz. 2.5, for X ; and since the result is 
 
 -t-39.0625 — 62.5— 7.5 + 27=— 3.9375, 
 a negative quantity, we conclude that the root is between 
 2 and 2.5 ; therefore the mean between these numbers, 
 viz. 2.25, or (taking only one decimal place) 2.3 is a 
 near value of the root. 
 
 291. We may now approximate very fast to the true 
 value of the root by the followmg method invented by 
 Newton. 
 
 Make xzz3..j-\-y, then, as !/ is a small fraction, its 
 second and higher powers will be very small quantities 
 in respect of its first power; they may therefore be 
 neglected in substituting the powers of 2.3 + ?/ for x in 
 the proposed equation. Therefore we have 
 
 x*ZZ (2.5) *-f 4(2.3)^^:3 + 27.9841 -1-48. 66Sy 
 
 — 4.r^rr— 4(2.5)^ — 12 (2.3) ^i/IZ — 48.668 — 63.48i/ 
 
 — ox zr — 3 (2.3) — oy zr — 6.9 — Sy 
 
 + 27 =+27 = + 27 
 
 X* — 4.i^ — 3x + 27 rz — 0.5839 — 17.812i/ 
 
 Therefore— 0.5839— 17.8 12i/zrO, and !/=— ^liii?— 
 
 ^ -^ 17.812 — 
 
 —0.03, here we retain only two decimal places in the 
 value of J/, these being all that can be supposed correct 
 in a first approximation; therefore x=2.3+i/=2.3 — 0.03 
 ^2.27. 
 
 Next, to obtain a new value of x, more accurate than 
 the former, let ;r=2.27+i/'; then, proceeding exactly
 
 446 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 as in obtainuig the former approximation, and rejecting 
 ihe powers of y' above the first, we get 
 
 —0.04595359 — 18.046468y'=:0. 
 
 And hence 
 
 0.04595359 
 
 = — 0.0025. 
 
 18.046468 
 
 and consequently .rri2.2675. And by repeating this 
 pi-ocess, we may approach as near as we please to the 
 true value of x. In the very same way we may find 
 the other real root of the equation, which is between 3 
 and 4, to be j:=3.6797, where the approximation is 
 carried on to four decimal places only. 
 
 292. This mode of approximating to the roots of 
 equations applies equally whether the equation be pure 
 or affected. Thus, to resolve the pure cubic equation 
 x'-2, or, in other words, to find the cubic root of 2; 
 because x is manifestly greater than 1, but less than 2, 
 and nearest to the former of these numliers, we assume 
 .r=l+i/; therefore, retaining only the first power of y, 
 we have jr' — 1+3:/, or 2 = 1+3;/; hence 3y=l, and 
 
 j/=-l=0.3 nearly. 
 
 We now assume ar=1.3+/, and pro- 
 
 .197 
 ceeding as before find 2=2.1974-5.07^, or i/= — - 
 
 = — 0.039, and x=1.3 — 0.0S9 1.26 nearly. The ope- 
 ration may be conthiued till any required degree of ac- 
 curacy be obtained. 
 
 293. By assuming an equation of any order having its 
 coefficients denoted by letters, we may investigate a 
 general formula for approximating to the roots of all 
 equations of that order. Let us take for example the 
 cubic equation 
 
 ar'+/2:r" -\-qX-\-r-^.Q. 
 
 Let a be a near value of one of its roots, and c a cor- 
 rection necessary to complete the value, so that x=a-^c. 
 Then, c being a small quantity, in investigating an ap- 
 proximation to the root, its second and higher powers 
 may be neglected. Thus we shall have x^ •\-)ix'' -\-qx 
 -j-r— a^4-/M^-f (/a+r+ (3a^+2/ia+9)c nearly. There- 
 fore c^-f/ia--f?n-}-r-f (3a- -j-2/ia-|-(/)f—0, and hence 
 
 a^ -f/m^-fyo-f r 
 
 '^ — 3a^-f2/ia-f.<7~ 
 
 or — _V ^A°' +!?"+' • 
 oi c_— 3<t 3a2^2ym-l-y' 
 
 As an example, let it be required to approximate to 
 a root of the equation x^ — 2x — 50:z:0. 
 
 By a few trials we find a value of x to be between 3 
 and 4, but nearer to the latter number than to the for- 
 mer. Therefore we have «~4, /i^O, qzz. — 2, r^z — 50, 
 and 
 
 _ 4_ — |X8— 50 
 
 root, then to obtain the root we must add to it a frac- 
 tion ; we have therefore x:xa-l — . 
 
 y 
 
 By substituting a H — in the equation instead of x^ wc 
 
 get a new equation containing the unknown quantity y, 
 which has necessarily a root greater than unity. Let b 
 be the whole number next less than the root; and we 
 
 shall have for a first approximation x^:a+-. Now b 
 
 
 
 being an approximate value of y just as a is an approxi- 
 mate value of X, we may make y^b-\ — ,, where y' is ne- 
 cessarily greater than unity ; then, substituting this 
 quantity histead of y in the equation containing y, we 
 shall have a new equation containing y' . Let b' be the 
 whole number next less than the value of t/, and we 
 
 shall have yZZ.b-\-r,, ^ — -jj — nearly, and substituting 
 
 this value in tliat of x, we get 
 _ . b' 
 
 for the second near value of x. A third may be found 
 by making y''^b'-\ — ^; for if 6" denote the whole num- 
 
 -——0.13. 
 
 3x16—2 
 
 Hence x— a+cZ=4 — 0.13zr3.87 nearly. We may now 
 assume a— 3.87, and find a new value of f, and proceed 
 in this way till we obtain the root to any proposed degree 
 of accuracy. 
 
 294. Lagrange, in the Berlin Memoirs, and also in a 
 work on the Resolution of Numerical Equations, has 
 given to the foregoing method a form which has the 
 advantage of shewing at every step what progress has 
 been made in approaching to the true value of the root. 
 
 Let c denote the whole number next less than the 
 
 1 A'A"-i- 1 
 
 bcr next less than y", we have t/— *'+T;r^ — 75 — > 
 
 b" bb'b"+b"+b J ^ . 
 
 hence y—b-¥ ^,^„_^ -=: —^r^iqn — ' ^^^ therefore 
 
 and 
 
 and so on. 
 
 '^— "■*"66'6"-l-6"-f6' 
 
 295. Let us apply this method to the resolution of the 
 following equation: 
 
 a-'— 7ar.f 7:rO, 
 
 the positive roots of which must be (by § 286) between 
 and 8; we therefore substitute 0, 1,2, &c. to 8, suc- 
 cessively for X, and get these corresponding results : 
 
 -4-7, -f-1, -f-l, .+-13, +43, -<-97, +181, -1-301, .f463. 
 
 But as these have all the same sign, we cannot apply the 
 theorem given in § 284, so as to determine any nearer 
 limits of the roots. It may be however remarked, that 
 the results first decrease, and then increase ; and as 
 they are equal to one another when jr— 1, and when. 
 xz:;2, and at tlie same time smallest, we may reason- 
 ably conjecture, that, corresponding to some values of 
 X between 1 and 2, they may be negative, if they admit 
 of being so ; and therefore, that the positive roots lie 
 between 1 and 2. Accordingly, if we substitute 1.5 for 
 X, we obtain the negative result — 0.125. Since therefore 
 the numbers 1, 1.5,2, give these results 4.I, — 0.125, 
 •H, where there are two changes of the signs, the equa- 
 tion must have two positive roots ; one between 1 and 
 1.5, and another between 1.5 and 2. We now begin the 
 
 approximation by assuming x— 1 -| — ; and hence, by- 
 substituting 1 -I — instead of x in the given equation, and 
 
 reducing, we get y^ — 4y~+5y+\ZZ0. 
 
 The limit of the positive roots of this equation is 5, 
 and by substituting successively 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, instead 
 of y, we soon discover that it has two roots greater than
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 447 
 
 unity; viz. one root between 1 and 2, and another be- 
 tween 2 and 3. Hence we have these approximate va- 
 lues of X. 
 
 1 1 3 
 
 1 
 
 2~2 
 
 1 
 
 We now make yzHH — ,i which gives us 
 
 y'^—2y'2—y'+lZZO. 
 
 This equation will be found to iiave only one real root 
 greater than unity, between 2 and 3 ; hence 
 
 l/=l +g =:t» and x=l +-=-. 
 
 Next we make i/'~2-| — ^, and get 
 y"^—3y"^—'iij"—\=0, 
 
 and in this equation the value of y" is between 4 and 5. 
 By taking the least limit 4, we get 
 
 ,«,19 ,,4 13 , ,9 _22 
 
 It is very easy to continue this process, by assuming 
 
 1 
 
 i/'_4-| — jf,, and so on. 
 
 We now return to the second value of x, which we 
 found to be - by the first approximation, and which 
 
 corresponds to J/^2. Therefore, let y:z2-< — y, then, 
 
 substituting this value of i/ in the equation for y, and 
 reducing, we get 
 
 y" +y'^—2y—lz=0. 
 
 This equation, like the corresponding equation in the 
 
 former operation, has only one root greater than unity ; 
 
 viz. between V and 2. We therefore take y'^l ; and 
 
 1 I 4 
 
 hence get y=2+jZZ3, and jr^l-f--~-. 
 
 We next make y':^l+-v, and get 
 
 ,y'-'_5y"»-_4y"— 1— 0, 
 
 an equation, from which the value of y" is found to 
 
 5 14 
 
 be between 4 and 5. Hence we find v— -> V— — » 
 
 4 5 
 
 19 
 
 To proceed in the approximation we make y":z:4-{- 
 —^,1 and so on, till any proposed degree of accuracy 
 whatever be obtained. 
 
 The equation x^ — 7x4-7^:0 has also a negative root 
 between — 3 and — 4. To find a nearer value we make 
 
 oe^. — 3 , which eives 
 
 y 
 
 y^ — 201/2 — 9y — 1--0 ; 
 and hence y is found to be between 20 and 21, There- 
 
 fore xrzz — 5- z:- 
 
 20 
 
 61 
 
 The approximation may be continued by making yzz. 
 20+^7, &c. 
 
 296. The successive equations containing y, </', y", kc. 
 have each never more than one root greater than unity, 
 unless two roots of the proposed equation be between a 
 and a-\-\. But when this is the case, as in llic foregoing 
 example, some one or otlier of the equations containing 
 y, y', y", &c. has several values grcati'r than unity, Ironi 
 which as many sets of equations may be derived as the 
 proposed equation has roots between tiie limits a an<l 
 a+\. 
 
 Sect. XVII. Of Indeterminate E<juatwn«. 
 
 297. When the conditions of a question do not fur- 
 nish so many equations as there are unknown (juantilies 
 to be determined, then, because the number of quanti- 
 ties which can be exterminated is always one less than 
 the n\nnber of given equations, {% 119, and Sect. XIII.) 
 in this case the final equation must contain more than 
 one unknown quantity. Now, in an ct|uation of this 
 kind, the unknown quantities will admit of innumerable 
 difierent values ; for example, the equation .r-|-j/^10, 
 where j;' and y may be any numbers, whole or fractional, 
 provided their sum be 10. On this account, such an 
 equation is said to be indctcrniinaic, and that branch of 
 algebra which treats of these equations, is sometimes 
 denominated the Analysis of indeterminate quantities. 
 
 298. Indeterminate equations, like determinate ones, 
 are distinguished into orders, accordingto the sum of the 
 exponents of the unknown quantities contained in any 
 one of their terms. 
 
 Thus a.r+fiy+f^O is an indeterminate equation of 
 the first degree, and 
 
 c J7+ 6!/ -|- cx^ + rf.ry -f ey 2 _|.y-— 
 
 is an indeterminate equation of the second degree. 
 Of Indeterminate Equations of the First Degree. 
 
 299. An indeterminate equation of the first degree, 
 containuig only two unknown quantities, may be gene- 
 rally represented by 
 
 ax-\-by^c, 
 
 where a, b, and c, denote given whole numbers ; and here 
 the theory requires not only that such values shall be 
 found of X and y as satisfy the equation, but also that 
 these values shall be whole numbers. 
 
 300. In the first place, we observe, that the numbers 
 
 a and b can have no common divisor which is not also a 
 
 divisor of c : for let rf be a divisor of a and 6, so that 
 
 a'^.dq, and b^dq', then the equation becomes dqx-\- 
 
 c 
 dq'yzzc, and g x -\- g' y^.- ; hence it appears, that x and y 
 
 can be whole numbers only when rf is a divisor of c. 
 
 301. If either of the coefficients a, b, is an unit, the 
 equation may be resolved without farther preparation. 
 Thus, if x-\-byzZc, so that x^c — by, it is evident, tliat 
 we may take y equal to any whole number, and we shall 
 have X also equal to a whole number. 
 
 302. Let us now consider the equation ax-{-by^c in 
 its general form, and suppose a.^b. Let ma be the 
 greatest multiple of a contained in b, and r the remain- 
 der, so that b^:!na-\-r, r being less than a, then 
 
 ax -\-may-\-ry^^c. 
 
 Put x-\-my:z:t, thus we have 
 
 ri/-\-atZ^c.
 
 448 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 Now, if r were ^:l, the equation would be resolved; 
 lor we would tlien have 
 
 x-\-/iiy^it, and i/-\-al:zc, 
 from which we get these equations 
 
 i/=c — at, x=t — jnij, 
 which give whole numbers for x and ij, by substituting 
 any whole number instead of t. 
 
 If r^^love have, because r^^a, « = '«''•+/■', where 
 m'r is the greatest mukiple of ;■ contained in a, and ?•' the 
 remainder. This expression being substituted in the 
 equation rij+atzsc, we have 
 
 ry + m'rt+i-'t—c, or r(i/+7n'i)+r'/zZc. 
 Vie now make y + m'tzzu, and thus get 
 
 we have therefore these equations, 
 
 x-{-my=t, y-\-m'fZZu, r'e-\-n:z:c, 
 which, if r'zzl, give 
 
 7? — t — my, y=u — m't, l^c — rii ; 
 
 and taking uzz. any whole number, we thence get t, y, 
 and X, also expressed by whole numbers. 
 
 If /-^l, we musi treat the equation //-fz-i^illf as we 
 did the former ; and because r',,^^1; we have rzZm"r'+r", 
 where ?;/V denotes the greatest multiple of r' contained 
 in r, and r" the remainder ; by this expression, the equa- 
 tion 1'' t-\-ruzz.c is changed to 
 
 r'(«-|-;H"u)+r"ii— c; 
 so that making t-\-m"u-^.v, we have 
 r"u+r'x'~f, 
 
 and in the case of r"=l, we have the following scries 
 of equations : 
 
 x-\-my=^t, y-\-m't=u, t-\-?}i"u=v, ti-{-r'v=c, 
 from which we get these values, 
 
 x=i — my, y=u — m't, C^v — 7h"ii, j( = c — j-'v, 
 
 which are always whole numbers, provided that zi is as- 
 sumed equal to a whole number. 
 
 By proceeding in this manner, we shall at last obtain 
 an ecjuation in which one of the unknown quantities has 
 unity for a coefficient. For since 
 
 b-:^ma+r, a^Z.m'r+r', r-^.m"r'-\-r", &c. 
 
 r is the remainder of the division of 6 by n ; r' that of a 
 by r ; r" that of r by r', and so on ; from which it appears, 
 that the values of r, /, ?■", &c. are found by the same 
 operation as is performed to find the common measure 
 of the numbers a and b, and which at last must give a 
 result ZZl, seeing that the numbers are supposed prune 
 to one another. 
 
 303. We shall now apply this method to the resolution 
 of the following questions : 
 
 Ex. 1. It is required to find all the possible ways in 
 which 60/. can be paid in guineas and moidores only. 
 
 Let X be the number of guineas, and y the number of 
 moidores. Then, considering that a guinea is equivalent 
 to 2 1 shillings, and a moidore to 27 shillings, also that 60/. 
 = 1200 shillings, we have this equation ; 
 
 2 1^+27!/ = 1200, 
 
 and dividing by 3, 
 
 7x+9y—AQQ. 
 
 Here a=7, 4=9, f=400, and from the first two of 
 these numbers the values of m, r, ml, /, 8cc. may be 
 found, as in the following operation : 
 
 7 
 
 r=2)7(3=m' 
 6 
 
 Therefore m=l, r=2, 7n' = 3, r' =\ ; and hence we 
 find 
 
 x-\-y — t, y-\-Zt—u, i+2u = 400; 
 
 and from these equations, 
 
 x^=t — y, y=:u — 3/, i=400 — lu, 
 retui'ning from the value of t to those of x and y, we 
 find 
 
 '■x=\tOO — 9k, y—7u — 1200. 
 
 Now that we may limit the values of x and y to posi- 
 tive numbers, we must evidently have 9u,£^\()00 and 
 7;; -^1200, that is, we must have 2(..i^l77i and t^-^='17I^ ; 
 therefore u may be any whole number contained between 
 the limits 172 and 177 (these numbers included). The 
 corresponding values of n, x, and y will stand thus, 
 
 Values of K, 172, 173, 174, 175, 176, 177. 
 
 of X, 52, 43, 34, 25, 16, 7. 
 
 of y, 4, 1!, 18, 25, 32, 39. 
 
 Hence it appears that the proposed sum may be paid in 
 six different ways. 
 
 The question we have just now resolved might have 
 been otherwise proposed thus. To find all the possible 
 ways of dividing 1200 into two parts, such, that the one 
 may be divisible by 21, and the other by 27. We have 
 found that it is limited to a determinate number of an- 
 swers in positive numbers ; but in the following ques- 
 tion the number of such answers is infinite. 
 
 Ex. 2. A person bought horses and oxen. For each 
 of the former he paid 31 crowns, and for each of the lat- 
 ter 20 crowns, and he found, that the whole price of the 
 exen exceeded that of the norses by 7 crowns ; How 
 many were there of each ? 
 
 Let X be the number of oxen and y that of the horses, 
 then by the question 
 
 20x^3 1 1/ + 7, or 20x — 3 1 y^7. 
 
 Here a^20, 6^ — 31, f^7, and, as in the last exam- 
 ple, we perform the operation of finding the common 
 measure of a and b as follows, 
 
 20)— 31(~l=??i 
 —20 
 
 r— 11)20(— IHIto' 
 11 
 
 ?-'=9)— 11(— 1— m" 
 — 9 
 
 7^'=:— 2)9(— 4=m"' 
 8 
 
 r"'= 1 
 
 from which it appears that ?n~ — 1, '"~ — 1 1, m'~^I, 
 r'=:+9, m"——l, r"=— 2, m"'=.—i, /"=:-f 1. There- 
 fore to determine x and y we have the following series 
 of equations (§ 302.)
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 449 
 
 so that wc have lastly v — 2w:z:7, and hence, returning 
 to the values of a; and y, 
 
 VZZ7 + 1w, «n28 + 97y, /:=35 + llw, 
 
 y:^e>2+20rj, xr:98+3iw. 
 
 flere nothing limits the values of x and those of y, 
 ■which are positive, even when nv has the negative va- 
 lues — 3, — 2, — 1. Thus we have the following series 
 of values for x and i/. 
 
 Value of 7t>, —3, —2, —1, 0, 1, 2, &c. 
 
 of X, 5, 36, 67, 98, 129, 160, &C. 
 
 of y, 3, 23, 43, 63, 83, 103, &c. 
 
 These values of x and y constitute two scries in arith- 
 metical progression ; the common difference of the for- 
 mer is 31, the coefficient of y, and that of the latter 20, 
 the coefficient of x in the proposed equation. 
 
 304. The method explained in § 302 is general, and 
 applies to any number of equations whatever. 
 
 Let it be proposed, for example, to find a number, 
 ■which being divided by 2 shall leave 1 for a remainder, 
 and being divided by 3 shall leave 2 for a remainder, 
 and being divided by five shall leave 3 for a remainder. 
 
 Let N denote the number, and let .r, y, z denote the 
 respective quotients which are found when it is divided 
 by 2, 3, and 5. Then we have 
 
 N=2a;-|-1, N=l3i/-f2, N=5:-f 3. 
 
 These equations, by exterminating N, are reduced to 
 the two following 
 
 2j? — 3i/^I, 3y — 5r=:l. 
 
 By proceeding with the first of these according to the 
 method of § 302, we find 
 
 i/=2; — 1, x=2t — 1. 
 
 Let this value of y be substituted in the other equa- 
 tion, and it becomes — 5:-|-6?^4, a new equation, which 
 being treated in all respects as the first, gives us 
 
 ^=5K-f4, :r:6u-f4. 
 
 Let this value of t be now substituted in the values 
 of *• and y already found, and we have upon the whole 
 
 x=15M-fll, !/=I0« + 7, :=6u-f4. 
 
 And hence, from either of the three original equations, 
 we find N=:30u-f-23. The least value that N can have 
 is found by making zi=0, which gives N=23. 
 
 305. If an equation be proposed involving three un- 
 known quantities, as ax-\-by-\-c:zzd., by transposing we 
 have ax-\-by^d — cz, and putting d—czz::c', ax-}-by—c'. 
 From this equation we find values of x and y having 
 this form 
 
 x:=mc' — bu, yzziau^nc'; 
 or x:::m{d — cz) — bu, y=au — n{d — cz), 
 
 where z and ji may be taken at pleasure, provided that 
 the quantities x, y, z are not restricted to positive values. 
 But when they are required to be positive, then the va- 
 lues of z and u may be confined within certain limits, to 
 be determined from the nature of the equation. 
 
 Of Indeterminate Equations of the Second Degree. 
 
 306. All indeterminate equations of the second de- 
 VoL. L Part. IL 
 
 grec, containing only two unknown quantities, may be 
 reduced to one or other of the three following forms. 
 
 _a.-{-bx 
 
 \. y=: 
 
 n. 
 
 ■fi-fcr' "■ "'c+dx 
 
 in. y=^^{a-^bx-[.cx^), 
 
 where a, b, c, and d, denote given numbers. In the two 
 first X is to be found, so that y may, if possible, be an 
 integer ; and in the third x is to be found, so that y may 
 be a rational quantity. 
 
 307. When y: 
 
 , it is evident that to have y an 
 
 6-fc.r' 
 integer, b-^cx must be a divisor of a. Let d be one of 
 
 its divisors, then if b-^cx=d,vfe have x= ; so thai 
 
 c 
 
 among the divisors of a we must find one, if possible. 
 
 from which b being subtracted, the remainder may be 
 
 divisible by c ; the quotient will be the value of x. 
 
 ci -^ bx 
 
 308. When y= ' , ; if rf be a divisor of b, x will 
 
 c-\-dx 
 
 be taken out of the numerator if we divide it by rfx-j-f, 
 and then this form is reduced to the preceding. But if 
 d is not a divisor of b, multiply both sides by d, then 
 
 dy=: — , or dividing bdx+ad by c/jt + c, (/y=:6 + 
 
 , and so x is found by making c-\-dx a divisor of 
 
 ad — be. 
 
 ^ , , , 195 — X 
 
 Example. Let 2xy-{-x-^y = \93 ; then y= — , 
 
 390 2x 391 
 
 and 2!/=—— = — 1-j — — — . Now 391 = 17X23, and 
 
 ' 1+2J:- l-f2x- 
 
 if l-f2jr=17, Jir=8 and y = \\. 
 
 309. The general resolution of the third equation 
 y~y/(a-\-bx-{-cx'^), when it is possible, depends on the 
 most refined artifices of analysis, and some of the least 
 obvious properties of numbers. We must therefore, in 
 the present short sketch, confine ourselves to some in 
 the more simple cases of the problem, which are also 
 the most useful. 
 
 1st. Let a be a square number, so that the equation 
 
 is y=,/(f-+bx+cx''). Assume ^[f^ +bx+cx'^) = 
 
 f+mx, then f^+bx+cx^=f^+2fmx+m'^x2, and hence 
 
 'iwf—b 
 b-i-cx=2fm4-m^x, and x=. j-. 
 
 If this value of x be substituted in the formula y=^ 
 A/(f^+bx-\-cx-), its irrationality will disappear, and wc 
 
 , ,. , f/ — bm+fm^ 
 
 shall have y=- ^ ' where m may be any num- 
 ber whatever, whole or fractional. 
 
 2d. Next let c be a square number, so that !/=,^(o-f 
 bx-\-g-2x^). Assume t/{a-{-bx+g^x^)-=m+g-x, then 
 a-{-bx-}-g^x^=:m^-]-2mgx4-g^x'^; and hence a-\-bx=m'' 
 
 +2i7i£cx, and x=z- . Therefore this value of .r 
 
 being substituted in the radical quantity, it becomes 
 rational, 
 
 . , bm — P/n" — ag 
 
 and we find u= — r-^— , 
 
 b — 27ng 
 
 and in this formula 7n may be taken equal to any number 
 whatever. 
 
 3d. If the expression a+bx-^-cx^ can be resolved into 
 
 5 L
 
 450 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 two simple I'acloi-.s f+i;.'c and /;+/rjr, the formula may- 
 be rendered rational by assuming ii/(ci-\-bx-\-cx^^ or 
 'yi{f-{-gx)(Ji-\-kx)]zz.'n(^/-\-!ix) ; for hence we get 
 {f-irS-r){h + kx)—nr'{f->rgxy and h+kxzzni^{f+gx), 
 
 smAxzz.'- —^1 and by substituting this value of x, the 
 
 irrationality will be removed as before. 
 
 4th. The fourth case in which the expression a+zx 
 ■\-bx- can be rendered a complete square is when it can 
 be divided into two parts, one of which is a complete 
 square, and the other a product of two simple factors ; 
 for then a-\-bx-^cx'^ has this form /i^ + y, fit 'h ^ncl r 
 being quantities which contain no power of x higher 
 than the first. We now assume \/(fi^-^-g'')^=/i+7n(j, 
 and hence get 2 m/z + m^ </:=;•, an equation containing only 
 the first power of x, and from which x may be easily 
 determined. 
 
 510. These methods of rendering a radical expres- 
 sion rational are of great importance in some of the 
 higher branches of mathematics. They are also appli- 
 cable to the resolution of many questions relative to 
 square numbers of the kind considered by Diophantus. 
 As a specimen of these we give the two following. 
 
 Ex. 1. It is required to find two numbers .v and y 
 such that the sum of their squares shall be equal to a 
 given square number a'. 
 
 Here the equation to be resolved is x^-\-y^=:a*, or 
 
 i/ = v/(a^ — -f2). This equation belongs to the first case. 
 
 We therefore assume >/(«' — x'')=mx — o, then a^ — a.-' 
 
 =za'^~—2amx-\-tn^x2, and — x= — 2am-\-m^x. Hence 
 
 2a?n , , , N ("'^ — iV ,T 
 
 x= , , . , and y=^{a' — x^)=- — 5 — ;!-. Here 7n may 
 
 D! -\-\ ^ ' III -^-l 
 
 be any number whatever, except 1, which would give 
 
 y=0. 
 
 If we suppose n''=4, then taking 7n=^2, we have x— 
 
 8 6 
 
 - and y=-- 
 5 ^5 
 
 found that these values of v and z satisfy the conditions 
 of the :juestion ; for 
 
 v + z = {n^+2n — 1)^. 
 
 As an example in numbers, let n— 3, then we have 
 
 x' = 36, z=160, and 36+160 = 142, and 36'-}-1602 =I6'f. 
 
 Sect. XVIII. Methods of Reaolviyig mi F.xJirvHsion into 
 a Series ; and Jieversion of Series. 
 
 311. It is frequently necessary to transform complex 
 algebraic expressions into others consisting of an infi- 
 nite number (that is a greater number than can be 
 assigned) of simple terms. By such a transformation 
 an unmanageable expression may be rendered more 
 tractable, because, although in its new form it consist 
 of an infinite number of terms, yet a moderate number 
 of them may be nearly equivalent to the whole, and the 
 rest may be neglected on account of their amount being 
 a small quantity. 
 
 312. The most simple kinds of quantities requiring 
 to be developed into infinite series are fractional expres- 
 
 sions, such as 
 
 a-\-bx 
 
 and radical quanti- 
 
 a+x 1 — 2cx-i-x'' ■ 
 ties, such as ^{(i- — x^). With these the most obvious 
 way, but not the best, is to apply the rules of algebraic 
 division and evolution, and to continue the respective 
 operations as in the following examples, until a suffi- 
 cient number of terms of the scries be obtained. 
 
 £x. 1. It is required to develope into an infinite 
 
 n-{-x 
 
 series by the operation of division. 
 
 )^a ax ax^ 
 a ( -+— &c. 
 
 n 
 
 Let us suppose Jii — , // and g bemg any two integers, 
 
 then we shall have x^ 
 
 Hence if a—ii^J^tj^, so that a'^={fi^+g^y, then the 
 question admits of being resolved in integers, for we 
 liave x^2/iq, and i/ = (/;2 — y2^_ Thus if /j =3 and g=\. 
 so that a^=(/i^ + g^Y=\00, then x = 6 and y = S. 
 
 Ex. 2. It is required to find two numbers whose sum 
 may be a square number, and also the sum of their 
 squares a square number. 
 
 Let V and z denote the numbers; then if we assume 
 v=fi^ — g^, and z=z2pi/, it is evident from the last ex- 
 ample that we shall satisfy the second condition of the 
 questiop, for then we have v^-{-z^=:(/i^ — g")^-\-i/i-(j^ 
 ^''''^+?^)"- We have therefore only to make t'-\-z = 
 fi^+~/ig — g^ a square number. Let the root of this 
 square be fi — nt/, then fi^-^-^/iy — q^=/}^ — 2finr/-\-7i'g-, 
 and hence 2[n-[-\)/i==(>!^ + \)cj. Let us now assume 
 jft=«*+l, then we shall have i/ = 2{}i-\-\), a.nd hence, 
 substituting these values of /z and g in the first assumed 
 values of 7) and z, we have, after due reduction, 
 
 ■ffhere ?i denotes any number whatever, and it will be 
 
 n 
 ax 
 
 +- 
 
 
 ax^ 
 
 a . , . - . . a ax ax 
 
 — ; — mto the infinite series -\ r 
 
 ?i-\-x n n- Tfi 
 
 The operation may be carried any length whatever, 
 dividing always the remainder by the first term of the 
 divisor, and placing the result for a new term of the 
 quotient, by which we develope the finite expression 
 
 ax^ 
 
 — -f&c. 
 
 n* 
 
 and in this case, the law of the series, that is, the rela- 
 tion of any term, to the term, or terms which precede 
 it, is manifest ; so that we can find as many more terms 
 as we please without continuing the operation. 
 
 Ex. 2. It is required to express the square root of 
 u^j^x"^ by an infinite series.
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 451 
 
 Here wc employ the rule of § U4. as follows, 
 
 a^+x'^a+ 
 
 2a. 
 
 'Sa^'^'lSa' 
 
 -8cc. 
 
 2a 
 
 x^\ 
 
 +x' + 
 
 4a" 
 
 1 ; 
 
 a 8aV 4a^ 
 
 'i"^ 8a*'^ dia^ 
 
 4a 
 
 2a-f 
 
 ar2 
 
 x4 
 
 a 4a'' 16a 
 Hence we find 
 
 V(a^+x^)=a + 
 
 
 X2 
 
 64a ° 
 
 r+ 
 
 16a5 
 
 -Sec. 
 
 2a 8a 
 
 and by continuing the operation we may find any num- 
 ber of terms. But the base of the series is not evident, 
 as in the last example ; so that we cannot continue it 
 without carrying on the operation. This is no doubt a 
 material defect in the method ; but we shall, in the 
 course of this Section, give another free from that im- 
 pei'fection. 
 
 313. The method oi Indeterminate Coefficients, which 
 is of the greatest utility in the higher branches of the 
 mathematics, is particularly applicable to the resolution 
 of the problem under consideration. It depends upon 
 the following theorem. 
 
 314. Theorem. Let x denote an mdeterminate quan- 
 tity, that is, a quantity which may have any value what- 
 ever, and let A, B, C, Sec. and A', B', C,' &c. be quan- 
 tities which are entirely independent of x, then if the 
 two expressions 
 
 A+Ba-+CJc■^-f■D.r^ ... 
 A'+B'.r-fC':c'+D'j;3 ... 
 
 which may be supposed continued to any number of 
 terms, be equal to one another, the coefficients of the 
 like powers of x in both must be equal, that is, A=A', 
 B=B', C=C', &c. 
 
 For since by hypothesis the two expressions are equal 
 whatever be the value of :r, they must be equal when 
 f — n ; but in this case all the terms of each vanish, 
 except the first; thus we have A=A'. Therefore ta- 
 king away these equal quantities from the general 
 expressions, we have 
 
 Bar+C.r2+Dx3 ... == B'x-f C'.r^-f-D'x^.. 
 and dividing by x, 
 
 B+Cjt+Dx^ =B'-l.C'x-f D'x^.. 
 
 And as this equality must by hypothesis subsist, what- 
 ever be the value of x, let us again suppose jt— ; and 
 we get B=B'. By continuing to reason in this way it 
 will appear in like manner that CziC, DztD', &c. and 
 so on, whatever be the number of terms. 
 
 If we bring all the terms of the two series to one 
 side, so that the equation may stand thus, 
 
 A— A'+(B— B')x+(C— C').r= + (D— D'),r3=o,thenwe 
 must have A— A'=0, B— B'=0, C— C'— 0, kc. 
 
 315. Let it be proposed to dcvelopc the fraction 
 into an infinite series by the method of in- 
 
 1 — 2cx+x^ 
 determinate coefficients. 
 
 We assume the proposed expression equal to a series 
 with indeterminate coefficients, thus 
 
 1 
 
 -= A+BxfCx='-l-Dx-HEx''+8cc. 
 
 1 — 2cx+x2 
 
 where A, B, C, D, denote quantities independent of a . 
 We now multiply both sides of the equation by I — 
 2cx-[-x-, the denominator of the fraction, to take away 
 that denominator ; then, bringing all the terms to one 
 side, we get 
 
 +C 
 
 A+B > 
 
 •-^^aS — 
 
 B Lr^— 2fC y 
 
 J +li J 
 
 x3-f5cc.no. 
 
 Hence, to determine tlie quantities A, B, C, Sec. m'c 
 have, by the foregoing theorem, the following series o! 
 equations, 
 
 A— 1=0, C— 2fB4-A:30, 
 
 B— 2cA=:0, D— 2cC-|-B=0, 
 
 &c. 
 From which we obtain 
 
 A=:i, 
 
 Bi=2cAzi2f, 
 
 C=2fB— A=4c^— 1, 
 
 D:z:2cC — B =8f 3— 4c, 
 
 E=:2fD— C = l6c*— l^c^ + I, 
 
 Sec. 
 And here the law of the series, or the manner in which 
 each tenii is deduced from the two preceding is very 
 evident. Thus it appears that 
 
 ^ - = l-f-2cx + (4c^— I)x'-f(8f3__4f)x3 + (l6c* 
 
 — 12c^ + l)x*-f Sec. 
 
 Ex. 2. Let it be required to develope V{a'+x^) 
 into a series by the method of indeterminate coeffi- 
 cients. 
 
 In this case we might assume the series A+Bx-f- 
 Cx^+Dx3-t-8ec. for the root, but as we should find that 
 the coefficients of the odd powers of x are each IIIO, we 
 rather assume 
 
 ^(a^ _|.x2)=A-f BxHCx-'+DxS-f Sec. 
 
 By squaring each side of this equation, and transpo- 
 sing the terms on the left-hand side of the result to the 
 right, and putting the whole equal to 0, we have 
 
 A^ + 2AB? ,-f2AC? ^4+2AD> ^.e, 5,^.-0 
 
 _a2_ 1 5 ^ + B2 y^ +2BC 5 -t-^c— "• 
 
 Therefore, by the principle laid down in § 314, wc 
 
 have 
 
 and A=a, 
 
 1 1 
 
 1 — 2cx-fx2 
 
 A2— a" =0, 
 2AB— 1 =0, 
 
 2AC-f-B«=0, 
 
 2AD-f2BC=0, 
 Sec. 
 Hence it appears, that 
 
 x/(' 
 
 ,^^x^-)-a^--- 
 
 2a 
 3L 
 
 r+ 
 
 16a5 
 
 -Sec.
 
 t52 
 
 ALGE15UA. 
 
 agreeing with the result obtainucl by a different method 
 {§ 312.) 
 
 316. Tlic Binomial Theorem, or rule by which we find 
 any power whatever (integral or fractional) of a binomial 
 quantity a + x, affords also another very general method 
 of expanding a quantity into a series. And as this the- 
 orem is of the greatest importance in the science of 
 algebra, as well as in the higher branches of mathema- 
 tics, we here give its investigation ; in the course of 
 which, as well as in some other investigations to fol- 
 low, we shall have occasion to refer to the following 
 lemma. 
 
 Sir. Lemm.i. Let n be any integral number, and x 
 and y any quantities whatever, then will x" — y" be 
 equal to 
 
 {x—y){x:"-^+x"-2y+x''-^y^ ... +xy''-''+y'-^ 
 
 To prove that this is true, we have only to take the 
 product of the two factors thus, 
 
 x^-^ + x''--y+x''-hj- 
 
 -}-xy"-^y''~^ 
 
 x~y 
 
 
 -j/» 
 
 (1 +x)''iZ""' and (1 +;/)'' ZZv"^ ; then, taking the differ- 
 ence of the two foregoing equations, and substituting, 
 we have 
 
 +D(x*_i,*)+, &c. 
 
 But since I -)-x=;i", and 1 -f-i/^n", therefore u"— !•"" 
 x — j^, and 
 
 u'"—vn>_h[x—y) , B(x''— y^) ^ C(x3— y^) 
 
 + 
 
 x—y 
 D(x*- 
 
 -y*) 
 
 x—y 
 
 + , £cc. 
 
 X — y 
 But by the lemma, (§ 317.) 
 
 X" — y" 
 
 Here it is manifest that all the terms of the product, 
 with the exception of the first and last, destroy one 
 another, so that the product is simply x" — y" , as ex- 
 pressed in the theorem. 
 
 318. We now proceed to investigate the series which 
 expresses any power of the binomial quantity n + J^; 
 and in the first place we observe, that a-\-xzZ.aX 
 
 (\ +- ):^ax{l +x'), (where or is put for -\ therefore 
 
 (a-f-x)" =a« X (1+^') "> {n being any number.) Thus 
 it appears that we shall have the series which is the 
 developement of {a-\-xY if we multiply each of the 
 terms of the series which is the developement of (1 + 
 
 X 
 
 x')" by a" , and substitute in it - instead of x'. 
 
 319. In the prosecution of our investigation, the first 
 point to be determined is the form of the series. Now 
 it will appear by induction, that any integral power 
 whatever of \+x, as found by involution, (§ 135.), or any 
 root, found as in § 3 1 2. Ex. 2., or any negative power (that 
 
 is, such a quantity as (1-f ^)-== |r:^= i^sl-fxO 
 
 when expanded into a series by division, (§ 312. Ex. 1.) 
 will be expressed by a series of this form, l-fA-r-j-Bx- 
 +Cx3+'Dx*-^- &c. where A, B, C, Sec. denote given 
 numbers. Hence we may conclude, that in every 
 case whatever the series has this form. So that, sup- 
 posing m and n to denote any two numbers, we may as- 
 sume 
 
 m 
 (14-x)n=l+A.r+Bx2-|-Cj:3 + Dx* + &c. 
 
 and the object of the investigation is to find the values 
 of the quantities A, B, C, &c. as expressed by the num- 
 bers m and n. 
 
 Now, y being any other quantity, we must have also 
 
 m 
 
 {\+yy =:l+Ay + 'By"-+Cyi+I)y* + iiC. 
 I i_ 
 
 Let us make (1+x)"— (« and (\+y)"ZZv, so that 
 
 +ux»'»-'-f-i."'-') 
 
 Also x^~y^^{x — y){x + y,) and x^ — y^^{x — y) 
 {x^-{-xy-\-y^), Sec. Therefore, by substituting, and 
 taking equal factors out of the numerators and denomi- 
 nators of the foregoing equation, it becomes 
 
 j^ + B{x + y)+C(^x^ +xy + y^) 
 
 + D{x^+x'y+xy'+y') 
 
 ^E{x* + x^y+x''y''+xy3+y'>') + , &c. 
 
 This last equation must subsist whatever be the values 
 of .r and y, and even if we suppose xzzy, a hypothesis 
 which gives l-l-x~l-(-t/, and u=r, and which reduces 
 the equation to 
 
 '""'"-r'=:A-l-2Bx-(-3Cx2 
 
 or to 
 
 m 
 n 
 
 in 
 
 Let us now put for u'" and u" their values (l-{-x) « 
 and I -fx, and we have 
 
 — (1 +x)n — (1 -fx) ]A-f2Bx-}-3Cx»-l-4Dx' 
 
 r— A-l-2Bx-(-3Cx2-f 4Dj?3+5E.r'*+, £cc. 
 
 to 
 -u^ZlW (A+2Bx+3Cx^+4Dx3-f 5Ex*+, &c.) 
 
 -f5Ex*+,kc. J 
 
 m 
 
 an equation which, by substituting for (l-f-ar)" the sc- 
 ries l+Aor-fBx'-j-, kc. and actually multiplying the 
 series on the right hand side by the factor \-\-x, be- 
 comes 
 
 ^J1+21Ax+^^x-+^Cx^+^Dx*+, &c. 
 71 n n n n 
 
 _ CA-f2Bx+3Cjr2-)-4Dx3-|-5Ea-*.f, &c. 
 
 — ^ +Ax+2Bx' + 5Cx3-|-4Dx*-f, kc. 
 and hence, putting the coefficients of like powers of x 
 equal to one another, (§ 314.) we get 
 
 n 
 2B-f A=— A, andB=— ^ i, 
 
 3C-f2B=— B, 
 
 n 
 
 711 
 
 4D-f3C=-C, 
 
 sE-l-4Dzr— D, 
 &c. 
 
 B(;«— 2;0 
 — ""n ' 
 
 An 
 
 £=: 
 
 D(;n — 4/;) 
 
 See.
 
 ALGEBliA. 453 
 
 or, substitutins? for A, B, C, 1) their values, as found from , , . m(/,i — 1) ^ „ 
 
 the preceding equations ; V^-^^) — « +'"« ■^+"p — ^ — " ^ 
 
 A=— , +-yV-^>-T-^"'" -1^'+, Sec. 
 
 n 1 ^ J 
 
 £^— "'('" — ") By this formula, wc may develope any integral power 
 
 l-2n2 of a binomial a-\-Jc into a scries, wliicli will always con- 
 
 j, m{m — n)[m — 2?;) sisl of a limited number of simple terms, because that all 
 
 1.2.3«^ ' the terms of the scries, after the (/H+l)th term, are mul- 
 
 _))!(m — n){m—27i){m — 3n) tiplicd by ?n — mzzO. 
 
 ~ I.2.3.4n'' ' 
 
 mim iiMm "^nMm onMm in\ 323. We shall now add a few examples of the applica- 
 
 ^=:— '^ ,o ■.). -! — — -^ t'on of the theorem. 
 
 1.2.3.4.5n* 
 
 &c. „3 
 
 And here the law, according to which the coefficients ^^- '• ^' '^ required to express ^-—^ by an infi- 
 
 A, B, C, 6cc. are formed from the numbers m and n, is nite series. 
 
 sufficiently obvious. , , 
 
 .c. TXT 1, .u r Because — — — , therefore ; r-,= —= 
 
 520. We have therefore a+z £' (a+2) (^iifV 
 
 (l+x)n=I + _x+-4--— 1^2+, &c. . ::v-3 
 
 ^ 71 1.2?i' / 1 J ) 
 
 and hence, substituting -instead of :c in the series, and Comparing now the proposed fraction thus trans- 
 
 III formed with the general formula, (§ 320.) we have a = l, 
 
 multiplying the whole by a" , (§ 318.) we have ^_5^ „__3^ „_,. ^,^j therefore making the proper 
 
 m m m-n „,(,„ „N ,n--2n a 
 
 (a+jr)" =a"+— a " x + -^ — iTT^"" " '^^ subsUtutions, 
 
 7„{m-n){m.2,i) Vir^ '■ ^' • ^•^■=" 2.4.5zS 
 
 + TT— 5'.' "-.3 ' a " Jr3 
 
 OZ o.*Z J.1.3Z' 
 
 1 • 2 • 3re'' , 
 
 m{vi~7i)(m—2n){7n—3n) "izl? ^° 
 
 + 1 • 2 • 3 ■ • 4n* '^ " ^'+, 5cc. ^ 
 
 JEx. 2. It is required to express i/{a- -\-y'^) by an 
 
 and this is the binomial theorem. iufinite series. 
 
 321. In the foregoing investigation, we have supposed Because a^+r=a-(i+4), therefore ^/{a^+y^) 
 
 the exponent— to be a positive quantity. The theo- » „2. . «- \i 
 
 . " „ . , , , =« /fl+^)=a( 1+^)2. Now, by the first for- 
 
 rem, however, IS equally true, whether the exponent be V V a"/ \ a^ / ' 
 
 positive or negative. For changing +«z uito — m, and , ^ , „„^ . / u • .1. . v" 
 
 *^ 11 t."" M™ mula of § 320, we have, (observing that ar—^, tozzI, 
 
 observing, that M-" — v-"'z=.—^ -= — ^-—, we have ,, " 
 
 „n .j,m zim^jm ?; — 2,) 
 
 "7-7'"^— J- x!^;=^; and, as when ^=t>, the /..rU^^ '-/^ I-'v* , l-l-3y^ , ^^ 
 
 u^—v^ u'"v"> u"—v" ' ' I +^j — ■'"20^ — i-2-2^a*^l-2'3-2^a« ^' 
 
 expression ,, - becomes — ^^~^, as has been And multiplying this series by a, we have -J{a--\-x/) 
 
 shown in the investigation of the theorem ; therefore, '^^"^ ° 
 
 . 1 „«._x,m y= 1;/* , l-Sj/''^ l-5-5y8 
 
 m the same circumstances, —-—x--——, becomes °+2^— i:F^+TFI3?~?3T2^*^"'"' ^'^• 
 
 
 1 mK"» ' — 771U "> ' . . Here the law, according to which the coefficients are 
 
 If we now substitute this c , • , ■ 
 
 «*"* wu""' 72«"~ ' ' formed, is obvious, 
 
 last quantity instead of '^^^ in the general investiga- ^^- 3- It is required to develope the^imaginary ex- 
 
 ,„„_„-."" pressions {a+5^ — 1)'' and {a — b^/ — 1)^ into infinite 
 
 tion, we get— ^-j— =A+2Bj;-f 3Cj:"4-4Dx^-f ,8cc. series. 
 
 and from this equation, and the series originally as- pj^st, we put (a + AV — O7 under this form .ra'^(l + 
 
 arumed, we get a result the same as in last Section, only j 1 i .i . 
 
 having — m instead of m, from which we conclude the -V— 1)^; ""'c now expand (!+->/— 1)^ into a series,by 
 
 theorem to be true, whether — be positive or nega- the first formula of § 320, considering that '«=•„) "=3, 
 
 tive. x=-^ — 1; and hence, that jr^= -, x^zz jV' — '' 
 
 a a a 
 
 322. If we suppose ?« to be any whole positive num- ^-4— j.^ x^ =+—\/—\, -t«— ^j all which follows 
 
 ber, and ;;:^1, the theorem becomes ' a* e' a*
 
 454 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 from the rule given in § 194, for tlic multiplication of 
 imaginaiy expressions. 
 Thus we have 
 
 1-2-5 6' , — r 1-2-S-8 b* 
 
 This series is made up of two kinds of ternis, one mul- 
 tiplied by the imaginary expression -\ 1, and the other 
 
 entirely free from it. We therefore separate the two 
 
 J. 
 classes of terms, and multiply the whole by a', and 
 
 thus get {a-j-b^ — 1)^ expressed by 
 
 1-2 b 
 
 1-2-5-8 6* 
 
 , i/1 6 
 
 +ai( 
 
 \3a 
 
 -+, Sec.) 
 
 + , Sec.)-/— 1- 
 
 2 3-6-9-12 a* 
 1-2 -5 b3 
 
 3-6-9a3 
 In the very same way, we may find the series which 
 
 constitutes the devclopement of (c — by^ — 1)\ and it 
 will be found, that if P be put for the first part of the 
 
 J. 
 above expression for {a+b^ — 1)^ and Q for its second 
 
 part, exclusive of the factor V — 1, so that (s+Ay' — 1)^ 
 
 =P+QV— 1, then will (a_6 Vl)3^p_Qy_l. 
 
 Of the Reversion of Series. 
 
 324. Let X and y be two indeterminate quantities, and 
 let the value of y be expressed by a series composed of 
 the powers of x, thus, 
 
 y = n+ax+bx^ + cx^+dx*-f, &c. 
 where a, b, c, kc. denote given quantities ; then to re- 
 vert the series is to express the value of x by a series 
 containing only y and the known quantities a, b, c, &c. 
 This may be done by employing the method of indeter- 
 minate coefficients, as follows : 
 
 Transpose n, and put y — n—z, then the equation be- 
 comes 
 
 z=ax-\-bx''+cx3-\-dx*+, &c. 
 Now, as when a-rro, then znO, it is easy to see, that x 
 will be expressed by a series of this form : 
 
 :r=.Ar + B:"+Cz3+Dz'*-t-, &c. 
 where A, B, C, Sec. denote quantities which are inde- 
 pendent of z. To determine these quantities, we sub- 
 stitute instead of x and its powers in the first equation, 
 their values as found, by involution, from the second 
 equation, and bring all the terms to one side, and thus 
 obtain the following result : 
 
 a:r =oAz + flB;'+aC:3 + oD:*+, Sec' 
 
 bx^Z=i -|-6A':2 + 26ABr3 +26ACz*+, Sec. 
 
 -f «B2z*+, Sec. i>=0 
 ex''— -t-cA'z' +3fA'Bz*+,&;c. 
 
 <lx*zi -f f/A*z-'+, Sec, 
 
 Sec. 
 Hence, putting the coefficients of like powers of z^O, 
 we have the following series of equations : 
 
 cA— 1=0, aB-l-AA''=0, aC + *26AB+fA^=0, oD 
 +26AC+6B--|-3cA^B+rfA3^0; from which we find 
 
 A=i, B= "-r, C 
 
 a a 
 
 5b3—5abc+a^d 
 
 ■2b' 
 
 Therefore, substituting these values in the second equa- 
 tion, it becomes 
 
 1 b , im—ac , Sb^—Sabc+a'^d ^ 
 X—-Z -z^-f -—zs -— z*+, Sec. 
 
 325. If the relation between two quantities x and y 
 is expressed by such an equation as the following : 
 
 ax+bx'^+cx^+, kc.=aV + %^+cV+5 ^c. 
 Then, by a process, in all respects similar to the above, 
 we may find the value of x in terms of y ; or, on the 
 other hand, the value of y in terms of x. 
 
 Sect. XIX. Of I.ogaritlnns and £x/ionential Quantities. 
 
 326. In treating of logarithms, we shall deduce their 
 theory from a very simple and evident property of num- 
 bers, namely. That any positive number (unity excepted) 
 being given, some power, integral or fractional of that 
 number, may be found which shall either be exactly 
 equal to any proposed number, or at least shall differ 
 from it by a quantity as small as we please. 
 
 327. If the given number be but a little greater than 
 unity, as for example if it be 1-000001, then since its 
 powers will form an increasing geometrical series, any 
 two successive terms of which are to one another in the 
 i-atio of 1 to l-OOOOOl ; if we put P for any one of its 
 terms, and Q for the following term, we shall have 
 
 p 
 Qz: 1-000001 xP:z:P-f — ; that is, each term ex- 
 ceeds the term before it by its millionth part. So that 
 the series being continued, one or other of its terms will 
 be nearly equal to any assigned number that is not vei-y 
 great. It is evident that, by supposing the given number 
 still nearer to unity, each term of the series formed by 
 its successive powers will exceed the term before it by 
 a proportionally smaller part of that term ; and conse- 
 quently some power or other of the number may be 
 found that shall differ less from any assigned number 
 than it would, according to the former hypothesis. And 
 the difference may be as small as we please. 
 
 528. If again the number is not nearly equal to unity, 
 as for example if it be 2, then, extracting by a suitable 
 method its 100000th root, the result will be 1-0000069315 
 
 nearly, that is, 2'"''^°^irl -00000693 15 nearly ; now as 
 the 158496th power of this last number may be shewn to 
 
 156496 
 
 be very nearly equal to 3, it follows that 3=i2 """><"> 
 nearly. Inlike manner, because thenumber 1-0000069315 
 when i-aised to the 232193d power, will be nearly equal 
 
 2 32 193 
 
 to 5, it follows that 5::;2"'°''"' nearly. In this way all 
 numbers whatever may be expressed, if not exactly by 
 integral, at least nearly by fractional powers of 2, as in 
 the following short Table which contains the first ten 
 numbers, 
 
 358496 
 g^—^ 100 00 
 
 280735 
 y— 2 100 000 
 
 i=:2<i 
 
 2n2^ 
 
 15 8 4 96 
 <^_-9 10 0^^ 
 
 4=2 
 
 232 1 93 
 e— 2 10 
 
 8=:2 3 
 
 3 16 992 
 
 3 32193 
 ]Q^— 2 * 000 00 
 
 ■, Sec. 
 
 329. In like manner it will appear, that all numbers 
 may be expressed neai-ly by the powers of 10. Thus
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 455 
 
 1 — 10» 6~10-'78'' 
 
 2;3l0-30l03 7 1O-8-1510 
 
 3— lO''^''"- 8— lo-'o^o^ 
 
 4. ln-a020S 9 — |().9542.t 
 
 5:^io-«"'' io:z:io'" 
 
 Wc may therefore infer that all positive numbers 
 whatever may be regarded as powers of any given posi- 
 tive number, or at least such powers of it may be lound 
 as shall differ from them by quantities less than any 
 which can be assigned. 
 
 330. Let the given number, whose powers are to ex- 
 press all other numbers be denoted by a, and let x denote 
 an indefinite number, and ij the power of «, which is 
 equal, or nearly equal to x, so that .v=av ; then the 
 number y is what is called the logarithm of x. So that 
 the logarithm of a number is the. Jiowcr to which some 
 given number must be raised to jiroduce that number. 
 l-"rom this definition we may readily dcdvice the proper- 
 ties of logarithms, which render them of use in calcula- 
 tion as follows. 
 
 331. Let X and x' denote any two numbers, and ij and 
 7/' their logarithms ; then because x=ay and x'-^za'J', by 
 taking the product of these equations, xx'^:za'J xai'^z 
 ay*y'. But like as y and y' are the logarithms of x and 
 x'l so, by the definition, y-\-y' is the logarithm of xx'. 
 Hence it appears that the logarithm of the product of 
 tivo tiinnbersis equal to the sum of the logarithms of those 
 numbers. 
 
 332. Again, dividing the sides of the equation x'zzav by 
 
 the corresponding sides of the equation x'zzav' we get 
 
 X aV v~y' 
 
 -^—jZ^a . But agreeably to the above definition 
 
 y^y' is the logarithm of-, therefore the logarithm of 
 
 the quotient arising from the division of one number by 
 another is equal to the excess of the logarithm of the 
 dividend above that of the divisor. 
 
 333. Let n denote any number whole or fractional, 
 then, raising both sides of the equation x^ziav to the ?ith 
 power, we get x''z^a"y . Thus it appears that y being 
 the logarithm of x, ny is the logarithm of x". There- 
 fore the logarithm of any fioiuer of a number is the product 
 of the logarithm of the riumber by the exponent of the 
 ponver, and this is true luhether the power be integral or 
 fractional. 
 
 334. From these properties of logarithms it is easy 
 to see how they become useful in abbreviating calcula- 
 tions. For if in the equation x'^.x'v we suppose x to 
 become successively equal to 1,2, 3, Sec. to a certain 
 extent, as for example to 100000, and calculate the va- 
 lues of y that satisfy the equations 1^«!', 2:^n!', c,zZaV 
 Sec. and arrange the corresponding values of x and y 
 opposite to one another m the form of a table, it is evi- 
 dent that the product of any two numbers will stand in 
 the column of numbers opposite to that logarithm which 
 is equal to the sum of their logarithms, and the quotient 
 of one number divided by another will stand opposite to 
 the logarithm which is equal to the excess of the loga- 
 rithm of the dividend aljove that of the divisor. Thus, 
 as often as it is required to find the product of two or 
 more numbers, we have only to take the sum of their 
 Joearithms, and opposite to that logarithm in the table 
 which is equal to tlie sum, we shall find in the colurnn 
 of numbers the product required. By t!ie same process, 
 only using subtraction instead of addition, we can find 
 
 the quotient arising from the division of one number 
 by another ; and similar simplifications take place in the 
 still more laborious operations of involution and evolu- 
 tion. 
 
 335. The logarithms of all numbers within certain 
 limits, when calculated and arranged in this manner, in 
 u table, constitute a,.ty.iteti> of logarithms. And it is evi- 
 dent that there may be innumerable different systems, 
 seeing that each depends entirely upon the value of the 
 number n, which is called the basis or radical jiumber of 
 the system, and which may be any positive number 
 whatever, unity excepted. 
 
 336. Because log. .rj.';irlog. x-{- log. x', if we sup- 
 pose x', one of the factors, to be unity, we get log. x 
 ^rlog. J^ + log. I ; therefore O^og. 1. Thus it appears 
 that in every system the logarithm of unity is 0. The same 
 conclusion may also be drawn from, the e([uation x'ZZu'J ; 
 for y being conceived continually diminished, x ap- 
 proaches to unity, and may be considered as z^l when 
 y has become less than any assignable quantity- 
 
 Again, in the equation x'^.av, if we suppose xZZla so 
 that a'^.av, then y must be unity. Therefore in every 
 system the logarithm of the basis is an unit. 
 
 237. Supposing a to be a positive number greater than 
 unity, if x be positive and greater than unity, it will re- 
 sult from the equation xzzav that y must be positive ; 
 for if it be possible that y can be negative let it be ^ — n, 
 
 then we have .r^ro"":^ — ; thus x will be equal to a 
 
 proper fraction, while at the same time it is greater 
 than unity, which is impossible. Therefore y cannot be 
 negative. 
 
 If, on the other hand, x be a proper fraction, then y 
 must be negative ; for if it were positive, av, and con- 
 sequently X, would be greater than unity, while by hy- 
 pothesis it is less, which is absurd. Therefore in every 
 system of logarithms the basis of which is a number greater 
 than unity, the logarithm of a whole or mixt number is 
 positive, but the logarithm of a proper fraction is nega- 
 tive. 
 
 338. Let X and x' as before denote any two numbers, 
 and y and y' their logarithms. Then because x^^a^, 
 and x' — ay', from the first equation we get xy'=ayy', and 
 
 y 
 
 from the second x'!'—o»y' , therefore xv'zzx'y and x = x'^'' 
 Now as this equation is entirely independent of a, the 
 basis of the system, if we suppose x and x' to be two 
 
 given numbers, it is manifest that^, will be a given 
 
 y 
 
 quantity, for it will depend entirely on the values of x 
 and x', thus y will be to y' in a given ratio. Hence it 
 appears, that the logarithms of two given numbers have 
 always the same ratio to one another in a?iy system of 
 logarithms whatexier. 
 
 359. Next, to find the relation that subsists between 
 the logarithms of the same number in two different sys- 
 tems, let the basis of the one l)e a, and that of the other 
 a', and let y and y' denote the logarithms of the nuniber 
 X in the two systems. Then we have x=ay, and x = 
 
 y_ y^ 
 
 a'y', therefore av=a'y' , and a-=ii''^ , and log. a=log. (a'''). 
 the logarithms of the quantities a and a'y being taken 
 
 ( -^ V 
 
 according to any system whatever; but log.Vn'^ /— —
 
 456 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 X log. a', (§303,) therefore log. a~- xlog.n', and hence 
 
 y : tj' : : log. a' : log. a : : , : : -. Thus it ap- 
 
 -^ -^ ^ ° log. a log. a' ' 
 
 pears, e/iat the logarUhiiis of thr same number in two dif- 
 ferent systems are to one another as tlie reci}jrocats of the 
 logarithms of the radical numbers of those systems, these 
 latter logarithms being taken according to any system 
 ivhatcver. 
 
 340. Having now shown what are the general proper- 
 ties of logarithms in all systems whatever, we proceed 
 to investigate rules for calculating the logarithms of 
 numbers, the system being supposed given. This in- 
 quiry leads us to the resolution of the equation .r=ay, 
 in which x the number, and a the basis of the system, 
 are to be considered as known quantities, and y the 
 logarithm of .r as the unknown quantity. Now this 
 equation is of a diflcrent form from any we have yet had 
 occasion to consider, for here the unknown quantity is 
 the exponent of a power. On account of this peculiarity, 
 the equation .r=G!/ (where y is supposed unknown), and 
 others of a like nature, as they are not subject to the 
 rules of arrangement which apply to the equations of 
 the first, second, and higher orders, the exponents of 
 which are all known quantities, so they constitute a dis- 
 tinct class, denominated Exponential Equations. The 
 equation we are about to resolve has the most simple 
 form of any of this class ; and a table of logarithms be- 
 ing once constructed, all similar equations may be rea- 
 dily resolved by means of that table, as we shall in the 
 sequel more particularly explain. 
 
 341. In investigating the values of .r and y from one 
 another, we shall employ the method of indeterminate 
 coefficients (Sect. XVIII.) However, before we seek 
 the value of y in terms of x, it will be proper to sub- 
 stitute \-\-v for ,r, so that the equation x=ay may be- 
 come 1-t-i'^n!'. By this transformation the indeter- 
 minate qviantities t and y contained in the equation are 
 both =0 at the same time, for when !/=0 then ^=1, 
 (§ 536,) and therefore ■v=:X — 1=0. We now assume 
 
 j/orlog. (l+TO=Ai' + Biy^+C-i'^-fDT^*+E-i'S+&c. 
 
 Here A, B, C, D, kc. denote quantities entirely inde- 
 pendent of-!', and which will of course contain only a 
 the base of the system, and determinate numbers. And 
 in this assumed equation, it is evident that when x'=0, 
 that is when jrrzl, then y=^0 as it ought. Let us now 
 suppose that 1+z is some other value of x different 
 from the former, then similarly we have 
 
 log. (l+r)r=As+Bz=+C:'4-Dr*+E:5+&c. 
 
 We now subtract the latter equation from the former, 
 and the result is 
 
 log. (1-fp) — log. (1+s) = A(t— 2)-fB(x,=— 2^)4.C 
 (T,5_r^)-|-D(T-*— -*) + E(t''— zS) + &c. 
 
 But from the nature of logarithms (§ 332.) log. (1 -\-v) 
 — log. (t + :) n log. YT^= log. fl-l-^^j Ybecause 
 
 :i:l+ I ~ )- And again, from the assumption of 
 
 log. (l-t-7')zzAx'+BD^-fCz'^ + Scc. we must have, in 
 like manner, 
 
 J\{v-z) ^ ^{v-zY C{-v-zY 
 
 l-fr)^ +(1 +-')•= + 
 
 This last series must be identical with the series we 
 Lave already obtained for log. n+ . \ j viz. 
 
 A(t— 2)-l-B(-!>2— 22)-fC(v'— z') + D(i.*— =*) + &c. 
 
 And as the terms of both are divisible by v—z (§ 317.) 
 by takuig out the common factor we get 
 
 A B{.-z) C[v-zY Y){v-zY _ 
 
 H:i+-(r+iyr+7H:iF-+-(r+iy3-+ ^cc. _ A-f b 
 
 {v + z)+C.{v''+vz + z^)-lrVi{y''+v-^z+vz^-\-z^).\.^c. 
 
 Now as these two expressions must be equal, what- 
 ever be the values of v and z, that equality must sub- 
 sist even when v':^z. But by this hypothesis all the 
 terms of the one series, except the first, vanish, and we 
 have simply 
 
 -^=lA+2BT'-f 3Cv= -f 4Dx' ' +5Ex'«-f &c. 
 \+v 
 
 which equation by multiplying both sides by 1 -\-v, and 
 bringing all the terms to one side, &c. becomes 
 
 A+2B)+3C?=-f4D> 3,5^^.-0 
 — A+AS^+2BS^ +3CS^ +'''^="- 
 
 Hence (by § 314.) we have 
 
 A — A:=0, and ArrA 
 
 2B-f A=:o 
 
 1 /, , ^' — -\ A(t — z) ] 
 
 Vi{v—-Y 
 
 3C+2B=0 
 
 4D-f5C=:0 
 
 5E-f-4D=0 
 Sec. 
 
 B=:_^ 
 
 2 
 
 4 
 
 E=^ 
 5 
 
 Thus we find 
 
 t/= log. (l-t-x;)=A ^X— — +-2-+— — y-f Sec. ^ 
 
 Or, substituting x for \—v and x—\ for v, 
 y=z log. X=:A < X — 1 — ^^ — + - — ~ 
 
 4 J 
 
 342. It yet remains to determine A ; but this may be 
 done by considering, that when yZTl, then ari^a, there- 
 fore, substituting these corresponding values of x and y 
 in the last equation it becomes 
 
 f {a~\Y (a—iy (a— 1)« . ? 
 
 and hence 
 A= 
 
 1 
 
 („_1)2 (0—1)3 {a—\)*, , ' 
 xi o 4 
 
 and consequently 
 
 log. x~ 
 
 ._l-(f=ll%i^il^_(£=lIVsce. 
 2^3 4 
 
 a-\- ("-')' , ("-')' ("-') ^ 
 o 1 - 
 
 -f &c. 
 
 + &r 
 
 3 4 
 
 and this is a general expression for the logarithm of & 
 number in any system whatevei". 
 
 343. As a, the basis of the system, may be any num-
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 45'; 
 
 ber, it will evidently be possible to give it such a value, 
 that the series in the denominator of the above expres- 
 
 . ( ■ " ■ ~'^ --t- (°~'^' _Scc. shall be equal 
 
 logarithm, viz. «-l-("7')% ("7^> 
 
 • 8cc. 
 
 is mani- 
 
 sion, viz. a— 1- 
 
 to unity. We shall, in the course of this Section, find 
 what this value is ; at present it is s\ifficient that its 
 its existence be admitted. The system which will re- 
 sult from this hypothesis is that which was originally 
 produced by lord Napier, the illustrious inventor of 
 logarithms. (See Logarithms.) The logarithms of 
 this system have been denominated hyfierbolic, because 
 they serve to express the areas of certain spaces bound- 
 ed on one side by an equilateral hyperbola. But this 
 property is now known to belong to logarithms of every 
 system, and therefore the appellation seems to be im- 
 proper. We shall, after the example of some foreign 
 writers of eminence, call them JVa/iierean logarithms. 
 Accordingly we have Nap. log. 
 
 2 ' 3 
 
 festly the Napierean logarithm of a, the base of the sys- 
 tem, we have in any system whatever 
 
 log. jr:zi- 
 
 I 
 
 Nap. log. a 
 
 X 
 
 ^- 
 
 .(fzll!+(f^'.^. 
 
 .r~x^l- 
 
 {sc-iy , (^-1)^ {. 
 
 ■+ 
 
 •')"^(^-')^ 
 
 • Sec. 
 
 2 ' 3 4 ' 5 
 
 And as the denominator of the general expression for a 
 
 The constant multiplier — - — --- — is an important 
 
 element in every system, and it has been called by wri- 
 ters on this subject the modulus of the system. From 
 the assumption we have made, it follows, that the inodv- 
 ins of the Napierean system is unity. 
 
 344. The series we have just now found can only be 
 applied to the calculation of the logarithms of numbers 
 wliich are but a little greater than unity, because when 
 JT is a large number, the series diverges, that is, each 
 term is greater than the term before it, in which case 
 it is useless. But another which shall always converge 
 
 may be investigated as follows. Put M for ; 
 
 the modulus of the system ; then because 
 
 Nap. log. a 
 
 log. .rrzM -j X — I 
 
 (-^-0' , (-j-iii (^-1)^ 
 
 + kc 
 
 } 
 
 by substituting - in this equation instead of x, we find 
 
 1 C x—\ {x—\Y {x~\Y (x— iv •) 
 
 But log. -~log. 1 — log.ar^ — log. X, therefore 
 
 log. x=M-< 4--i —4-- r-^-4— ^ l-£cc. \- 
 
 ' This series will always converge, whatever be the value of x. 
 
 345. There is yet another series still better suited to 
 the calculation of logarithms than either of the former, 
 ■which may be investigated thus. Because it has been 
 shewn (§ 341.) that 
 
 log. (l+t,)=M(.— --{-y---f^ &C.) 
 
 by substituting — v instead of -^.v, we have 
 log. (l_.)=M(_z.---------8.e.) 
 
 therefore, subtracting the latter equation from the for- 
 mer, and observing that log. (l-f-t;) .— .log. (1— .x'}^og. 
 
 l+v 
 
 y— ^, we get 
 
 Putting now the single letter x for the fraction , 
 
 X 1 
 
 from which we get x — xv = l-\-v, and v= , we 
 
 x-)-l 
 
 find, after making these substitutions in the series, 
 
 that 
 
 -fScc. 
 
 } 
 
 -. r2(x— 1) , 2(,r— 0' 2(x— 1)5 
 
 log. x=M-{ -^ ^-{ — ) -rT+-7 r- 
 
 '' 1 x+I ^3(x-fl)'^5(x+l)5 
 
 346. In considering different systems of logarithms, 
 lord Napier's is evidently the most simple in respect of 
 facility of construction, because its modulus is unity. 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 The radical number of this system is 2.7I828I8, as we 
 shall have occasion to shew in the course of this Sec- 
 tion. However, soon after the discovery of logarithms 
 it was observed, that a system in which the radical num- 
 ber should be the same as the root of the common scale 
 of notation, namely the number 10, would be much bet- 
 ter adapted to the ordinary purposes of calculation. And 
 accordingly such a system was actually formed by Heniy 
 Briggs, (see Logarithms), and is the only one now in 
 common use. Its logarithms are generally called com- 
 ?>io?i logarithms. 
 
 347. We shall now give a few examples of the appli- 
 cation of the foregoing formulas to the actual calculation 
 of logarithms. 
 
 Ex. 1. Required the Napierean logarithm of the 
 number 2. 
 
 Here, employing the fonr.ula 
 
 , ,^f2(x— 1) 2(x— 1)^ 2(x— 1)5 
 
 log. i-=M-{ -^^ i-t--, rrW— 7 
 
 ^ I x-fl ^3(x+l)^^5(x-|-l)f 
 
 1 Tir . X 1 1 
 
 we have M = l, x=2, — - — :z:-. 
 x-Y 1 3 
 
 Therefore 
 
 =A+AB+iC-|-^D+iE-|-&c. 
 3M 
 
 -f-&c.
 
 458 
 
 where A is put for |, B for ^A, C for -IB, D for iC, ice. 
 The calculatioti may stand thus, 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 of tlic Napierean lojjaritlim of 10, or 
 
 I 
 
 2.30258509 = 
 
 A = | =:.666666666 
 B =^A— .074074074 
 C=JBr:.008230453 
 D=JCZZ.0009144-95 
 li=-tD=.00010161l 
 
 F =-iE^:.oooo 11290 
 
 G=AF =3.000001254 
 1 1 =iG 3Z.000000 1 39 
 I =|H— .000000015 
 
 A=:.666666666 
 ■JB 13.02469 1358 
 
 jCnr.oo 1646091 
 
 1I)Z:.000130642 
 
 -IEZZ.000011290 
 
 .j\FrZ.000001O26 
 
 _'-jGzr.OOO00OO96 
 
 J5H:=.oooooooo9 
 
 VyI =.000000001 
 
 .434294482. 
 
 Nap. log. 2= .693147179 
 Or, retaining only eight figures, 
 
 Nap. log. 2:^.69314718. 
 
 Having obtained the log. of 2. we can readily find the 
 logarithms of 4, 8, and in general of any power of 2 ; 
 
 349. We can now easily find the common logarithms 
 of the numbers 2 and 5 ; for we have only to multiply 
 their Napierean logarithms already found by the mo- 
 dulus .43429448, or divide them by its reciprocal 
 2.30258509, and the products, or quotients, are the loga- 
 rithms sought. 
 
 Thus, retaining only seven decimal places of the pro- 
 ducts, we have 
 
 Co7i2. Log. 2ZZ .69314718X.43429448=.3010300. 
 Com. Log. 5=:l. 6094379 I X.43429448=.6989700. 
 
 This last logarithm, however, might have been other- 
 wise found, by considering, that since 5ZZ—i therefore 
 
 rzsxiog. 2, &c 
 
 Ex. 2. Required the Napierean logarithm of 5 
 
 lor, from the nature of logarithms, because 4=2% log. 5r= log. 10 — log. 2 = 1 — 3010300=.6989700. 
 
 therefore log;. 4rr2x!og. 2; and in like manner log. 8 ^,„ .,^, . ,, , , ... • u 
 
 b b, ' b 350_ Although the two latter series we have given 
 
 (§ 344. 8c § 345.) for finding the logarithm of a numbci 
 converge in every case, yet when the number is large, 
 as for example if it were 997, the rate of convergence 
 By employing the same formula as before, because is too small to admit of their being of any use. We 
 
 jc- 1 2 shall, under the article Logarithms, give others free 
 
 XZZ5, and — — IZ-, we have from that defect; at present, we shall sliew how it may 
 
 , be obviated, bv deriving tlie logarithms of numbers 
 
 log. 5=2 \l+y^)\iay +lil)\.. X fom one another. 
 
 tj o\oj a\o/ I \oy J j^gj ^ denote a number whose logarithm is known, 
 
 Hence, proceeding exactly as in last example, by ta- ^"d n+x another number whose logarithm is required, 
 
 king the sum of a sufficient number of terms of the then, because ti+x=n( l + -),thereiore log. (n+x)= 
 series, we shall find Nap. log. 5=1.609437912. V n/ o v / 
 
 1 4- - j. Let us assume 1 -f -ZZy-— , then, 
 
 found, the Napierean logarithm of 10=2X5 becomes resolving this equation in respect of xC we find v= 
 known. x 
 
 Thus, to log. 2 —.693147179 o.. ■ ^ - But we have found, that 
 
 Add log. 5 =:1.6094379!2 
 
 The sum is log. 10 = 2.30258509 1 
 Or, retaining eight figures, 
 
 2.30258509 
 
 log. 10 
 
 2« +x 
 
 X 
 
 Therefore, substituting in this expression 1-|-- for 
 
 Hence also the modulus of the common system of ^ ' '" g^j^j _j£__ {q,, ^, y.^ „^^ 
 logarithms is known, for (§ 343), it is the reciprocal 1 — x"' 2«-|-ar 
 
 Log.('l+-\^2M-j — i — ( — - — "^ +-(77-^. — ) +, &c. land consequently, 
 
 *=> \ n) \2n-\-x^'i\2n-[-xJ ^5\2n.\.xJ J H .r' 
 
 Log. (n+x)=\os.n + 2M^ —^ \--C - T ") +-( "^^ ■')+, &c.]. 
 
 a \ -r J b -r \2n + x^ S\2n + x^ ^ 5\2n + x / J 
 
 By this formula, the logarithm of a number may easily Here n= 
 be found from that of the next less number. we have 
 
 £xam/iU'. Having given the common logarithm of 2, 
 it is required to find the common logarithm of 3. 
 
 xzz\, therefore putting M for .43429448, 
 Log. 3=log. 2+2m(^+~+-L-l-1-.+, 8cc.) 
 
 \5 0.3^ 3.3' i .3 ' I
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 459 
 
 The calculation may stand thus : 
 
 ' Log. 2— .3010300« 
 
 — =.17371779 
 5 
 
 2M 
 
 ——=.00231624 
 
 3.5" 
 
 ^M-:Z:.00005559 
 5.5' 
 
 2M 
 
 1^=1.00000 150 
 7.5' 
 2M 
 
 li-i-zr.ooooooo3 
 
 9.5» 
 
 is large, the scries, wliicli is to be added to the logarithm 
 of the next less number, will converge still faster than 
 that of the foregoing example. 
 
 352. A formula, which shall express the logarithm of 
 any number ?; by means of the two adjoining numbcrK 
 n — 1 and n+1 maybe investigated as follows. 
 
 Resuming the formula 
 ,o,..=.M{£=l+i(£=!)Vi(f^)V,,4 
 
 Let us suppose -r=— j ^ 
 
 n — I 
 
 from which assumption we 
 
 get: 
 
 -I 
 
 1 
 
 , then, substituting these values of :> 
 
 Com. log. 3 =.47712126 ^^1.1 
 
 ... , and in the formula, it becomes 
 
 351. When the number, whose logarithm is sought, ,r+l 
 
 Log.^=2M{^-^+l(^)Vl(^^) V, Sec.} But 
 
 LogS- o" .— log. 7- ^— -7T"=21og.«— log.(«— I)— log.(w4- 1) ; therefore 
 
 ° n—\ \ii — l)(n-fl) 
 
 Log..4{log.(.-.)+Iog.(.+ .)j+M[-J-^+i(^-^)Vi(^-^ 
 
 By this formula, having given the logarithms of any 
 two of the three numbers n — 1, n, n + 1, the logarithm 
 of the other number may be readily found. 
 
 353. The fonnulas here investigated are sufficient for 
 finding the logarithms of all numbers whatever; but in 
 applying them to the actual construction of a table, there 
 are many artifices by which the labour of calculation 
 may be greatly shortened. It is evidently only the loga- 
 rithms of the prime numbers that can occasion any dif- 
 ficulty ; for as to the logarithms of such numbers as are 
 the products of others, they may be had by simply ad- 
 ding together the logarithms of their factors. As, how- 
 ever, we shall have occasion to recur to this subject 
 under the article Logarithms, we shall not enter far- 
 ther into it at present, but proceed to investigate a se- 
 ries which shall express the number by means of its 
 logarithm and the basis of the system to which the loga- 
 rithm belongs. 
 
 354. Resuming the equation x'^Za'J, we are now to 
 express the value of .r or of a'J by a series formed from 
 y. Now, because when xjZZOi then av or a.~l, it fol- 
 lows, that if a'J is expressible by a series composed of 
 the integral powers of ij, it must have this form, 
 
 «!'=l-l-Ai/+B!/^+Cj'3-fDi/*-f, Sec. 
 
 where A, B, C, Sec. are quantities independent of y. In 
 like manner, a- being another value of x, we will have 
 
 o==l-f-Ar-t-Bz2.1.C:'+D24-t-, &c. 
 
 therefore, by subtracting, 
 
 cv— a'==A(!/_-)-|-B(y^— :^)+C(;/'— 2')-f, Sec. 
 But since a^ — a== — aV^a'-v — 1), and 
 
 a-~-y^l+A(z-y) + B{z—yy+C{z—yy+, Ecc. 
 it follows, that 
 
 ay-<i''=av ^A{y—z) + B{y—zy-+C{y—zy+, Sec. ^ 
 
 Putting now these two values of a'J — a" equal to one ano- 
 
 ther, and dividing all their terms by the common factor 
 y — z, we get 
 
 A+B{ij+z)-^-C{y^+yz+z')+D{y^+y^z + yz^-+z^)+i>iC. 
 
 =a'J ^A + B{y—z)+C{y—z-') + T>{y—zy+Uc.'^ 
 
 Now, as this equation must subsist independent of 
 any particular values of y and z, it must be true even 
 when yZZ~ ; in which case it becomes 
 
 A-f-2Bi/-l-5Ci/'+4D!/'+5Ei/*+, Secrza^A 
 =A{\+Ay + By^+Cy' + Dy*+, See.) 
 
 Let the coefficients of like powers of i/ in the two se- 
 ries be now put equal to one another, and we have 
 
 A=A, 
 
 \- 
 3B=AS Bzz— 
 
 — 2 
 
 A3 
 
 3C=AB, C=— 
 
 2.3 
 
 A* 
 2'j'4' 
 Therefore 
 
 x=aV=,+Ay+^;,"- + ^3,3 + _^,*+, Sec. 
 
 355. We have yet to determine the value of A; now 
 this may be done as follows : From the equation x^af, 
 we have found, (§ 353.) that 
 
 ny={x-—l)—l{x—iy+l{x—iy—, Sec. 
 
 where 7i is put for Nap. log. a. Hence, reverting this 
 series, (see § 324.) we get 
 
 {x—l)=ny+P{nyy+q{ny)3^, g.^. 
 
 where P, Q, Sec. denote coefficients which are uidepen- 
 dent of either x — 1 or ny, consequently 
 
 j:zrl+"!/-fP(«!/)'-fQ(«i/)3 + , Sec. 
 
 By comparing the second term of this series with the 
 same term of Uie series 
 
 3 M 2
 
 460 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 a-^l+Aiz+^^y'- 
 
 1-2 
 
 -v' + ,Scc. 
 
 it appears, that AiZnZlNap. log. a. Thus every thing 
 relating to the series expressing the value of x- is de- 
 termined. 
 
 356. If, in the equation 
 
 a.= l+Ay+^^,^+AL,3 + _^,* + , See. 
 
 1 
 where y may have any value whatever, we suppose y~—, 
 
 A. 
 
 it becomes 
 
 1 
 
 i- 1.1 
 
 aA— l-fl-f 
 
 1-2 ' 1-2-3 ' l-2-3'4 
 
 +, &c. 
 
 Thus it appears, that the quantity oa is equal to a con- 
 stant number, which, by taking the sum of a suRicient 
 number of terms of the series, will be found to be 
 2.7182818285. Let this number be denoted by c, and 
 
 wc have nA=:f, and ni=e . Now, if it be considered, that, 
 in this equation, A is the Naperian logarithm of a, it 
 will immediately appear, (§ 335.) that the number e 
 must be the basis, or radical number of Napier's system 
 of logarithms. 
 
 357. The equation flr=e* gives us log.a = Axlog.f, 
 (§ 333.) the logarithms of « and e being supposed to 
 
 belong to any system whatever ; and hence A= . 
 
 The series wc have found to be equivalent to the expo- 
 nential expression av, may therefore be otherwise ex- 
 pressed thus : 
 
 log.a /logo 
 log.f ^log 
 If we suppose azze, then 
 
 loff.a /log.a\ V /log.ax v^ 
 
 eyzn^+y- 
 
 y~ 
 
 + 
 
 ■+, &c. 
 
 a — « equal to a fraction less than unity ; so that 
 
 will, on the contrary, be greater than unity. Wherefore 
 
 let —A; and as b must be a number greater 
 
 than unity, we may, in like manner, seek the whole num- 
 ber nearest to its value, and this number being called /3, 
 we have b — /3 equal to a fraction less than unity, and 
 
 consequently v;— equal to a fraction greater than unity, 
 
 which we may express by c. We next seek the nearest 
 whole number to c, which being denoted by y, we have 
 c — y equal to a quantity less than unity, and therefore 
 
 equal to a quantity rf greater than unity, and so on 
 
 Proceeding in this manner, it is evident, that we shall 
 gradually exhaust the value of (7, and that in the sim- 
 plest and easiest manner, since we employ only whole 
 numbers, each of which approaches as neai'Iy as possi- 
 ble to the values sought. 
 
 Now, since ZZb, we have a—-it^.~, and 
 
 a — cc 6 
 
 1.2 ' 1-2-3 ' 1-2-3-4 
 
 These properties of the number denoted by e, render it 
 very remarkable, and are of great use in many inquiries 
 connected with the higher branches of analysis. 
 
 We have remarked, (§ 340.) that every exponential 
 equation of the form a-'^:^n (where a and ?; are known 
 quantities, and j", the exponent of a, is unknown,) may 
 be readily resolved by a table of logarithms. For, 
 from the equation a^=n, by the nature of logarithms, 
 
 log.ra 
 
 "log.a' 
 
 where the logarithms may be taken according to any 
 system whatever. 
 
 (§ 333.) we get ^xlog.c~log.n, and hetice jt; 
 
 Sect. XX. 0/ Continued Fractions. 
 
 358. Continued fractions naturally occur as often as 
 we have occasion to express quantities which can only 
 be obtained by successive approximations. That we 
 may explain their origin, let us svippose that we are to 
 assign the value of any given quantity o, which cannot 
 be expressed by an integer number ; the most simple 
 way is to begin by seeking the whole number nearest 
 to the value of a, and which differs from it by a fraction 
 less than unity. Let this number be »«, and we have 
 
 a'ZZtt.-\- 
 
 6' 
 
 in like manner, because ~f, we have 
 
 b — /3 
 
 c 
 
 and because ZZd, we have 
 
 c — y 
 
 and so on; so that by substituting successively these 
 values, we get 
 
 c 
 
 and in general 
 
 c^!«+l 
 
 J^+,&c. 
 
 This expression for the quantity a constitutes what is 
 called a continued fraction. 
 
 359. It is proper to remark, that the numbers «, /3, y, 
 &c. which express the approximate integer values 
 of fl, b, c, &c. may each be taken in two different 
 ways, since we may take for the approximate inte- 
 ger value of a given quantity either of the numbers 
 between which it lies. If we suppose the numbers next 
 less to be taken, the denominators j3, y, S, Ecc. will 
 be all positive ; but if we take the next greater, the de- 
 nominators will be negative ; and if they be taken some- 
 times greater and sometimes less, the denominators will 
 be partly positive and in part negative. In what fol-
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 16 1 
 
 lows, we shall suppose them taken in the fust of these 
 ways. 
 
 360. If among the quantities a, b, c, d, &c. there is 
 fomid one cciual to a whole number, then the continued 
 fraction will terminate. For example, if c be a whole 
 number, then the continued fraction, which gives the 
 value of a, will be 
 
 "+1 
 
 c 
 
 This case occurs as often as the quantity a is commen- 
 surable, that is, when it can be expressed by a rational 
 fraction. When, however, a is an irrational quantity, 
 then the continued fraction goes on to infinity. 
 
 361. Let us suppose, that the quantity a is a common 
 
 fraction -5^, A and B being given whole numbers. In 
 
 the first place, it is evident, that the whole number «, 
 
 which is nearest to — , is the quotient of A divided by 
 
 B. Thus, supposing the division performed in the 
 common way, and calling « the quotient, and C the 
 
 Next, 
 
 UOo 
 
 "ssr' 
 
 r=l + l 
 
 , A C , . , B 
 
 remamder, we have -=r — »:zZs, therefore b:^-r-,. 
 
 li JtS K^ 
 
 4+1 
 9 + \_ 
 2+1 
 
 in order to have /3, the approximate integer value of 
 
 the fraction -^, we have only to divide B by C, and 
 
 take the quotient of this division for /3, then, calling the 
 
 D C 
 
 remainder D, we have b — i^z:— , and therefore flT-rr. 
 
 We next divide C by D, and the quotient is the num- 
 ber y, and so on. Hence we have the following very 
 simple rule for reducing common fractions to continued 
 fractions. 
 
 In the first place, divide the numerator of the proposed 
 fi'action by its denominator, and call the quotient «, then 
 divide the denominator by the remainder, and call the 
 quotient /3 ; after that, divide the first remainder by the 
 second, and let the quotient be y. Proceed in this man- 
 ner, dividing always the last remainder but one by the 
 last remainder, until a division occur, in which there is 
 no remainder, which must at last necessarily happen, 
 since the remainders are integer numbers, each of which 
 is less than the one before it, we shall then have the 
 contbued fraction 
 
 "+1 
 /B+l 
 
 y+l 
 
 ^+, Sec. 
 equal to the given fraction. 
 
 Example. Let it be proposed to reduce to a con- 
 
 887 
 tinued fraction. First, we divide 1 103 by 887 ; the quo- 
 tient is 1, and remainder 216. We now divide 887 by 
 216, and get 4 for a quotient, and 23 for a remainder. 
 Again, we divide 216 by 23, and find 9 for a quotient, 
 and 9 for a remainder ; and dividing 23 by 9, find 2 for 
 a quotient, and 5 for a remainder ; and dividing 9 by 5, 
 find 1 for a quotient, and 4 for a remainder ; and dividing 
 5 by 4, get 1 for a quotient, and 1 for a remainder ; 
 lastly, we divide 4 by 1, and find 4 for a quotient, and 
 no remainder. Hence we form the continued fraction 
 
 1+2 
 
 4. 
 
 363. We may reduce any quantity whatever to the 
 form of a continued fraction by the foregoing rule, pro- 
 vided wc have its value expressed in decimals. But 
 because llie decimal value can only be approximate, and 
 that by increasing the last figure by unity, we have two 
 limits, between which the true value is contained ; in 
 order not to pass these limits, it will be necessary to per- 
 form the same calculation upon both the fractions, and 
 to admit into the continued iVaction only those quotients 
 which result equally from both operations. For exam- 
 ple, let it be proposed to express the ratio of the circum- 
 ference of a circle to its diameter, by a continued frac- 
 tion. The two limits to the ratio, carried as far as ten 
 
 r 3141592653 ,3141592654 
 
 figures, are --— and . Bv nerform- 
 
 ^ 1000000000 1000000000 ' fciioiiu 
 
 ing on these fractions the operations indicated by the 
 rule, the first gives the series of quotients 3, 7, i5, I, 
 
 291, &c. ; and the second gives the series 3, 7, 15, 1, 
 
 292, Sec; therefore, rejecting the last quotient from 
 each set as doubtful, we have 
 
 Circum. 
 
 -=3+2 
 
 r+_i_ 
 
 15 + l_ 
 
 r+, Sec. 
 
 363. It is evident, that the more terms we take in of 
 a continued fraction, the nearer we approach to the true 
 value of the quantity expressed by that fraction ; so that, 
 if we successively stop at every term, we shall have a 
 series of quantities converging towards the proposed 
 quantity. Thus having reduced the value of a to the 
 continued fraction 
 
 «+2 
 
 /3+J 
 
 y+i 
 
 we shall have the quantities 
 1 . 1 
 
 Diam. 
 
 ' ^ /3' /3+1 
 
 &C. 
 
 which form a series of approximations to the value of a. 
 The same series, when reduced to the form of common 
 fractions, will stand thus : 
 
 «> 
 «|3+1 
 
 («^ + l)y+« 
 
 ^y+1 ' 
 
 [(«/3+l)y+«y+«;3+l 
 
 (/37+l)Hi3 
 Sec. 
 
 From these expressions, it is easy to see, that, if l^
 
 462 
 
 ALGEBRxV. 
 
 means of the numbers, «, /3, y, S", Sec. wc form the 
 followint; expressions : 
 
 B=/3A+1, B'=/3, 
 
 C=yB+A, C'=yB'+A' 
 
 Dzr^C+B, D'=^C'+B', 
 
 E=£U+C, E'=£D'+C', 
 
 8cc. Sec. 
 
 we shall have this scries of fractions converging towards 
 
 llic quantity a : 
 
 A B CL D ^ L fo 
 
 A^'WC"D"E"F'/ 
 
 If the quantity a is rational, and represented by p, 
 
 it will be always the last term in the preceding series, 
 since, in that case, the continued fraction will terminate, 
 and the last fraction must be equivalent to the whole 
 continued fraction. But if the (juautity a be irrational, 
 so that the continued fraction goes on to infinity;~then 
 the series of converging fractions will also go on to in- 
 finity. 
 
 364. These converging fractions have several remark- 
 able and interesting properties, which render them of 
 considerable importance in analysis. The two following 
 are among the most useful : 
 
 ABC 
 
 1. The converging fractions —„ -g-,, -^„ &c. are alter- 
 nately less and greater than the quantity a ; and each is 
 expressed in smaller terms than that which follows it. 
 
 2. Each converging fraction is nearer to the exact 
 value of a than any other fraction whatever, in smaller 
 terms. 
 
 By these properties we can find a series of fractions, 
 which approach continually to the value of any proposed 
 one, and each expressed in the least numbers possible. 
 Thus, putting 7i for the number which expresses the 
 proportion of the circumference of a circle to its dia- 
 meter, and which we have reduced to the continued 
 fraction 
 
 3+1 
 7+_l_ 
 \5 + l 
 
 1+, &C. 
 if we take the two first terms only, we have n^i+ 
 
 1 22 
 
 _ — — . And this is the theorem of Archimedes. Again, 
 
 7 7 
 
 if we take the first three terms, we have 
 
 1£ O rt .-. 
 
 w=r3-t-i =3H n — 
 
 7-M 
 15 
 
 which is nearer to the truth than the former. And if we 
 take the four first terms, we have 
 
 355 
 
 "lis 
 
 «=I5 + 1 
 
 7-fl 
 
 15+1_ 
 1 
 
 which is the proportion of Melius, and is move exact 
 th'an either of the preceding. 
 
 365.. Among continued fractions, thes* whose terms, 
 after a certain number of periods, return exactly in the 
 same order, deserve more particularly to be noticed 
 Such a fraction is called /leriodic, and although the 
 number of its terms be infinite, yet its value can always 
 be easily assigned. Let us take for an example the con- 
 tinued fraction 
 
 2+l_ 
 2+2 
 
 2-f, &c. 
 
 where the denominators are all the same. Then calling^ 
 its value x, we have manifestly 
 
 1 
 
 ■*=:l + i =•+■; 
 
 2-fj 
 
 +i 
 
 2+, 8cc. 
 
 l+a 
 
 Hence .r- 
 
 <: — 1~ , and x^~2, and xzZ'i/'i- 
 
 Again, let us suppose, that 
 x=l 
 
 6+1 
 a+l 
 
 b+, he. 
 
 the denominators a, b being supposed to alternate con- 
 tinually. Then it is evident, that 
 
 b+x 
 
 a+l 
 6+« 
 
 -a{b+x)+\ 
 
 Hence the value of x is given by the quadratic equa- 
 tion ajr2^aAjr~6, from which we get x^z. ^^^ 
 
 / (-b'^-\ — j. Though the denominators did not return 
 
 in the same order till after a greater interval, the value 
 of the fraction would still be expressed by the root of a 
 quadratic equation ; and, conversely, the roots of all 
 quadratic equations may be expressed by periodical con- 
 tmued fractions. 
 
 Sect. XXI. Apjilkation of Algebra to Geometry. 
 
 356. The relations which subsist among quantities of 
 any kind whatever, in respect of their magnitudes, may 
 always be expressed by equations. It is in consequence 
 of this principle that algebra admits of being applied to 
 various subjects, and in particular to the different 
 branches of geometry. And the art of expressing by 
 equations the relations which the quantities concerned 
 in any geometrical enquiry have to one another consti- 
 tutes the afijilication of algebra to geo7netry. 
 
 367. Algebra may be employed (frequently with much 
 advantage) in every bi'anch of geometry. In the present 
 Section we propose to show in particular how it is to be 
 applied to the resolution of problems ; and, in the first 
 place, we shall premise some general remarks, observ- 
 ing however, that as it is impossible to give general
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 463 
 
 rales which shall apply to every particular case, it is 
 chiefly by examples that a facility of resolving geome- 
 trical problems is to be acquired. 
 
 368. Whatever be the nature of the problem to be 
 resolved, its conditions must be curci'uUy examined and 
 expressed by equations, without distinguishing between 
 the known, or given quantities, and sucli as arc. un- 
 known. These arc then to be treated according to the 
 rules already delivered for the management of equations, 
 so as to bring out at last a final equation involving only 
 one unknown quantity. And in forming the equations 
 of the problem, it is to be observed, that the quantities 
 to be considered in it have certain original properties in 
 respect of one another, which arc eiiher known from 
 the nature of quantity in general, or from the elements 
 of geometry. Some of the most generally useful of 
 these may be enumerated as follows. 
 
 1. A whole is equal to the sum of all its parts. There- 
 fore when we have an algebraic expression for a whole 
 composed of several parts, and also for each part, ex- 
 cept one, the expression for that part will be obtained 
 by subtracting the sum of the values of the remaining 
 parts from the value of the whole. 
 
 2. In every proportion the product of the two extremes 
 is equal to the product of the means. Hence, if expres- 
 sions for the means and one extreme be known, the other 
 will be found by dividing the product of the means by 
 the known extreme, and taking the quotient for the other 
 extreme. Or if the expressions for the extremes, and 
 one mean be known, the other will be found by dividing 
 the product of the extremes by the known mean. 
 
 o. In similar triangles the sides opposite the equal 
 angles are proportional. 
 
 4. In a right-angled triangle the square of the hypo- 
 thenuse is equal to the sum of the squares of tlie sides. 
 
 5. The area of a triangle is half tlie product of tlie 
 base and perpendicular. 
 
 6. In every triangle the sides are to one another as 
 the sines of the opposite angles, &c. 
 
 369. From these, and other such theorems, the equa- 
 tions of any problems may be deduced ; and by com- 
 paring together the equations thus found, we may in 
 many cases discover other theorems purely by calcula- 
 tions, without recurring to any other geometrical prin- 
 ciples whatever. 
 
 370. Frequently, in order to apply the preceding gene- 
 ral theorems, it will be necessary to combine the quan- 
 tities given by the conditions of the problem with others 
 which depend on them, but which do not exist in the 
 figure as originally constructed to represent those given 
 quantities. To effect this, new lines must be drawn, 
 which shall be connected by known relations with those 
 already exhibited. Sometimes lines must be produced 
 indefinitely, or to a given distance, or until they meet 
 other lines. In some cases, lines must be drawn from 
 particular points perpendicular to, or parallel to other 
 lines ; and, in others, certain points must be joined. It 
 may also be necessary sometimes to construct a new 
 figure, so as to exhibit more commodiously the elements 
 of the question by means of such theorems as seem best 
 suited to that purpose. 
 
 Thus, if two lines, which do not meet each other, 
 make given angles with a third line, they may be pro- 
 duced so as to form a triangle, the angles of which, and 
 therefore the ratios of its sides, will be given. If an 
 angle be given, or if it be equal, to another angle, a tri- 
 angle may be formed of a given kind, or similar to ano- 
 
 ther triangle. An oblique-angled triangle may be re- 
 solved into two right-angled triangles, by drawing a per- 
 pendicular from one of its angles upon the ojjposite side. 
 Figures consisting of more than three sides may be re- 
 solved into triangles, by drawing iliagonals, kc. 
 
 371. When, among the difl'erent modes of proceeding 
 which may suggest themselves, that which seems likely 
 to give the simplest solution has been chosen, and a 
 figure suited to it has been constructed, wc nuist pro- 
 ceed to express the ditl'erent lines, which constitute the 
 figure, by proper symbols. Afterwards the known and 
 unknown quantities nuist be connected by ineans of 
 equations ; and this is to be done, in some cases, by 
 comparing together two values of the same unknown 
 quaiilily, which is denoted by a particular letter, and in 
 others by seeking two values of a quantity, which is not 
 expressed by any letter, but which may be deduced 
 from others denoted by particular characters. 
 
 373. Sometimes considerable address is necessary in 
 denominating the difl'erent quantities, so as to resolve the 
 problem in the simplest manner. That skill, however, 
 is only to be acquired by studying carefully the exam- 
 ples delivered in the writings of the best mathemati- 
 cians, and by imitating their modes of proceeding in the 
 resolution of similar problems,- ^ 
 
 373. Frequently it will not be necessary to put par- 
 ticular letters for quantities, the values of which can 
 readily be obtained from others for which expressions 
 have been already assumed or found. For example, 
 having put letters to denote a whole line, and one of its 
 parts, the remaining part may be immediately obtained 
 from the others by subtraction. In like manner, having 
 assumed particular characters to denote the sides of a 
 right-angled triangle, the hypothenuse will be expressed 
 by the square root of the sum of the squares of the sides. 
 Sometimes, however, it may, be convenient to express, 
 by particular letters, quantities which might have been 
 deduced from others, and then to eliminate them after 
 having formed all the equations which express the con- 
 ditions of the problem. 
 
 374. In the resolution of geometrical problems, as in 
 tliose of pure algebra, if the final equation contain only 
 one unknown quantity, the problem is determinate, and 
 is of the first, second, or higher degree, according as 
 the equation contains the first, second, or higher power 
 of that quantity. But if the equation contain more 
 than one unknown quantity, then the problem is inde- 
 terminate. 
 
 573. When a final equation is obtained, we may seek 
 the geometrical expression of its unknown quantity, 
 either in the figure under consideration, or in a new 
 figure constructed on purpose. The process, by which 
 this expression is found, is called the comttruction of the 
 equation. Determinate equations, of the first and second 
 degrees, may be constructed by principles drawn from 
 the elements of geometry, as we shall presently have 
 occasion to shew. But the construction of determinate 
 equations of the higher orders, and of indeterminate 
 equations, depends upon the theory of curved lines. 
 
 376. Problem I. In the right-angled triangle ABC, 
 it is required to draw a straight line DE, parallel to BC, 
 one of its sides, about the right angle, meeting the 
 other side AB in D, and the hypothenuse in E, so that 
 the square of DE may be equal to the rectangle con- 
 tained by AD and BD. Fig. I. 
 
 The triangle ABC being supposed given, all its parts 
 arc to be considered as known. But the point D being
 
 464 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 unknown, the lines AD, DB, arc also unknown. If, 
 however, they be determined, it is evident, that the 
 problem may be immediately resolved. 
 
 Let the known lines AB, BC, be denoted by a and b 
 respectively, and the unknown line AD by j: ; then, be- 
 cause the line DB is the difference between the lines 
 AB and AD, which are already denoted by the letters, 
 instead of denoting it by a particular letter, we may ex- 
 press it by a — .r, and hence we have AD xDB— x(a— x) 
 :^a.r — x^ 
 
 Now, whatever be the position of D, the triangles ADE, 
 ABC, are similar; therefore AB : BC : : AD : DE; or, 
 
 bx 
 in symbols, a : b::x -.DE; hence DE— — , and DE^ — 
 
 But the problem requires, that DE^—ADxDB; 
 therefore this condition will be expressed by the equa- 
 tion 
 
 -—ax — x2, or x^- 
 
 a2-l-6' 
 
 -=0. 
 
 The values of x in this equation are 
 
 a' 
 
 The first of these values indicates, that the point D 
 may fall at A ; and it is manifest, that this position of the 
 point satisfies the condition of the problem ; for then 
 DE% and ADxDB are each =0. The second value of 
 X, however, is properly that which we seek ; and if the 
 values of the lines a and b be given in numbers, that is, 
 if the number of times that each contains some deter- 
 minate line, considered as unity, be known, then the va- 
 lue of X, or AD, will be had in numbers. 
 
 To find the geometrical expression for x in the for- 
 mula xzz.—^ — =■, it is evident, that we may consider x 
 
 a-+b^ 
 as a fourth proportional to a'^+b'^, a^ and a; that is, 
 (because AC'=AB2 + BC-=:aH *') to ACS ABS and 
 AB. 
 
 Now let abc (Fig. 2.) be a right-angled triangle, and 
 let be be perpendicular to the hypothenuse ac, then, by 
 a theorem in the elements of geometry, cc^ : ab^ : : ac : ae* 
 But if ed be drawn perpendicular to ab, we have ac : 
 ae ■.-.ab-.ad; therefore ac^ : ab^ -.-.ab : ad. Conceive now 
 the triangle abc to be equal in all respects to ABC, 
 then, as ac=:AC, and abzzAB, it follows, that adzz 
 
 "^^^ " — X. Thus we have only to make AD, 
 
 in Fig. 1, equal to ad, in Fig. 2, and the point D wdl be 
 determined as required. Or the construction, by which 
 D is found, may be made in Fig. 1, alone, as is evident. 
 
 Prob. II. It is required to inscribe a square in a 
 given triangle ABC. Fig. 3. 
 
 Let us suppose that DEFG is the square sought. 
 From A, the vertex of the triangle, draw AH perpendi- 
 cular to its base, meeting DE, the side of the square, in 
 K. Put BCzZfi, AH=4, AK==x,then KH,or BG—b—x. 
 
 * " By similar triangles abc, abe, 
 
 ac:ab : : ab : ae, therefore acXaeziZab^. 
 
 Now, ac -.ae :: acXac -.acXae (15. 5. Euc). 
 
 That is, ac:ae:: ac^ : ab'." 
 
 The lines BC and AH are known, because the triangle 
 is supposed given ; but AK and DE, any one of the side-, 
 of the square, are unknown. 
 
 Because the straight lines BC, DE, are parallel, by 
 the elements of geometry, BC : DE : : (AB : AD : :} 
 
 AH : AK ; that is, a : DE : : 6 : x ; hence DE = — . But 
 
 b 
 
 the problem requires, that DE be equal to DG, which 
 
 is expressed by b — x, thus we have the equatioa 
 
 ax b^ 
 
 — =b — X, and hence x= . 
 
 b a+b 
 
 As it appears from this formula, that x is a third pro- 
 portional to a-j-6 and b, its geometrical value may be 
 found by the construction given in the elements of 
 geometiy for finding a third proportional to two given 
 lines. 
 
 In general, however, it is more elegant to connect the 
 construction with the figure which exhibits the data of 
 the problem. In the present problem this may be done 
 as follows : 
 
 Take HL=BC=n, and LM=AH=4. Join MA, and 
 draw LK parallel to MA, meeting AH in K ; then shall 
 K be the point in which DE ought to meet AH. For, 
 because of the parallels, we have HM : ML : : HA : AK ; 
 that is, a-\-b ib-.-.b: AK ; thus it appears, that AK is of 
 the proper magnitude. The point K being found, the 
 remainder of the construction is obvious. 
 
 Prob. III. Two semicircles ABD, OPD, which touch 
 each other at D, being given by position, and the straight 
 line OB being supposed perpendicular to tlieir common 
 diameter at O, the extremity of the diameter of the in- 
 terior semicircle, it is required to describe a circle KPH, 
 which shall touch the two circular arcs OPD, BHD, and 
 the straight line OB. Fig. 4. 
 
 Let C and F be the centres of the two given semicir- 
 cles, and G the centre of the circle required. Then it 
 is known, from the elements of geometry, that H, the 
 point of contact of the circles AHD, KHP, is in the 
 straight line CG, which joins their centres; and also 
 that P, the point of contact of the circles OPD, KHP, 
 is in the straight line FG, which joins their centres. 
 Draw GK from the centre of the circle required to the 
 point in which it touches OB; then GK must be per- 
 pendicular to OB. Also draw GE perpendicular to OD. 
 Put the known lines CD=a, OF or FD=*, and the un- 
 known lines FG=x, FE=i/. 
 
 This being premised, it is immediately evident, from 
 the disposition of the lines, that CF—a — b, EO, or GK, 
 or GP, or GH=A— y, CE=a—b—y, CG=CH— GH^ 
 a — b+y, GE*=x' — y'. The right-angled triangle CEG 
 gives us CG'r=CE*-|-EG2, that is, in symbols, (a— A+i^ 
 ° — Cn — b — yy +x^ — 1/2 ; and hence we have, by invo- 
 lution and proper reduction, 
 
 4ay — iby+i/'^=x^. 
 Further, we haveFG=FP-f PG ; that is, 
 
 x=2b — y, and hence x'-'=Ab^ — iby+y'-. 
 Let these values of x^ be now put equal to each other 
 then we get 
 
 4ay — iby + y^^:ib^ — iby+y", 
 
 and from this equation we find y— — . This value
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 465 
 
 of y beiiig substituted in the equation .r=26 — y gives 
 
 Li 
 
 US xrr2A — ■ — . Hence it appears, that the gcome- 
 
 a 
 trical value of y is a third proportional to a and b ; that 
 is, to the lines CD and DF ; and that the value of :r is 
 the excess of 26 (or OD) above the value of y. The 
 value of X and y, that is, of FG and FE, being now known, 
 we have only to make FE of the proper magnitude, to 
 draw EG perpendicular to OD, and on F, as a centre, 
 with a radius equal to the value found for FG, to de- 
 scribe an arc of a circle cutting the perpendicular EG 
 in G, the centre of the circle required. Its radius is the 
 perpendicular drawn fromG upon the line OB. 
 
 Prob. IV. To divide a given straight line AB in ex- 
 treme and mean ratio, or so that one of its segments shall 
 be a mean proportional between the whole line and the 
 other segment. 
 
 Let AC be the segment, which is to be a mean be- 
 tween the whole line and the other segment BC. Call 
 AB, a, and AC, x ; then shall CB=a — x:. Now, by the 
 question, AB : AC : : AC : CB, or a : j^ : : j: : a — x ; tliere- 
 fore, multiplying extremes and means, we have this 
 
 equation, a' 
 
 from which we find 
 
 '=~^J{''^i) 
 
 To construct these two values of x, draw BD per- 
 pendicular to AB at one of its extremities, and equal 
 
 to AB=-. Join AD, then it is manifest, that 
 2 2 
 
 AD~ //n"-f — ) Therefore, if on D, as a centre, 
 
 with DB as a radius, a circle be described, cutting AD 
 in E, and the same line produced in E', then AE^: 
 
 from which it appears, that the line AE expresses 
 the magnitude of the positive value of x, and AE' 
 that of its negative value. If now in AB we take 
 AC=AE, the positive value of x, the line AB will 
 be divded at C as required ; that is, AB : AC : : AC : CB. 
 Again, if in AB, produced, we take AC equal to the ne- 
 gative value AE', so that it may be in a contrary direction 
 to that in wliich the positive value was taken, then shall 
 AB : AC : : AC : CB, as will immediately appear, if 
 for AB, AC, and Q.'h, we substitute in this proportion 
 
 their respective values c, --f/(a°-f — ), and c-f- 
 
 4-^(a^-t— — \ and take the product of the ex- 
 tremes and means. Thus it appears, that although 
 strictly speaking, the negative root does not give a so- 
 lution of the very problem proposed, yet it exhibits the 
 solution of a problem quite analogous to it. Indeed, the 
 two may be included in one enunciation thus : To find a 
 point in a given line, or in that line produced, such, that 
 its distance from one extremity of the line shall be a 
 mean proportional between the whole line and its dis- 
 tance from the other extremity. 
 
 Prob. V. Having given the hypothenuse AC, and the 
 sum BA-f BC-f BD oT the two sides BA, BC, and the 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 perpendicular BD of a right-angled triangle, it is re- 
 quired to determine the triangle ; that is, its sides and 
 unknown angles. 
 
 Let AC be denoted by a, BA + BC-f BD by b, BD by 
 X, BA by y, and consequently BC by b — x — y. The 
 condition requiring the angle at B to be a right angle, 
 gives us AC^rzAB-H-BC^; that is, a''z=.y^+ {b—x— 
 yY; or by actual involution ; 
 
 I. a^zi2i/-+A^ — 1bx-\-x'^ — 1hy+2xy. 
 
 Again, the triangles ABC, ADB, being, from the na- 
 ture of a right-angled triangle, similar, we have AC : 
 ABB : : BC : BD, or, in symbols, a:y:: b — x — y : x ; 
 hence, taking the product of the extremes and means, we 
 get ax = bij—-xy — i/'^, and, multiplying the whole by 2, 
 
 II. 2axZZ2by — 2xy — 2y'^ . 
 
 Taking now the sum of these two equations, I. and II., 
 and rejecting the terms common to both, wc find a* 
 -|- 2a.r=:6 ' — 2bx -f- .r ^ , a quadratic equation, which, being 
 resolved gives us 
 
 X=a-f6=±=v'(2a2-f2c6). 
 Of these two values of x it is only the second, viz. 
 x^a + 6 — y/ (2a2 + 2a6) that can satisfy the problem ; for 
 it is evident, that the perpendicular x, or BD, must be 
 less thana + 6; and, to have the geometrical expression 
 for that value, we must diminish a+b by the geometri- 
 cal expression for ^(2a2-)-2oA) ; that is, by a mean pro- 
 portional between 2a and a-{-b. Having found the per- 
 pendicular, the triangle may be constructed thus : — 
 Upon the given hypothenuse AC, as a diameter, de- 
 scribe a semicircle, draw AE perpendicular to AD, and 
 equal to the value found for -r, and draw EB parallel to 
 AC, meeting the circle in B, then join AB and BC, and 
 ABC will manifestly be the triangle required. 
 
 Prob. VI. Let ABCD be a given square It is re- 
 quired to draw a straight line AF, from A one of its an- 
 gles, to meet the sides about the opposite angle (or those 
 sides produced,) in E and F, so that the part EF, be- 
 tween them, shall be equal to a given line 6. 
 
 Let us suppose, that FM is drawn perpendicular to 
 AF, meeting AB, produced, in M, and FO perpendicular 
 to AM. Put a for the side of the given square, and let 
 the unknown lines BM~-c, and FMzzy. 
 
 The two right-angled triangles ABE, FOM, are mani- 
 festly equiangular ; they have also the sides AB, FO, 
 which are adjacent to the equal angles, equal to each 
 other, therefore the triangles are in all respects equal ; 
 so that AE=FM:=y, and hence AF— AE-)-EF— 1/-)-6. 
 And since, in the right-angled triangle AFM, AM* 
 zrAF2+FM^, we have this equation (o+x)-— (y-f 6)" 
 -f !/^; that is, 
 
 I. a"^ +2ax+x''—2y'' +2by+b'' . 
 
 Again, the similar triangles ABE, AFM, give this 
 analogy, AB : AE : : AF : AM ; that is, a : y : : y-f-4 : a 
 ■j-x ; and hence, taking the product of the extremes and 
 means,we get this equation, a^-f-a.t-^:i/^ -}.6y, or,muIti- 
 plying the whole by 2. 
 
 II. 2a^ -{-2axZZ2y^-\-2by. 
 
 Let the II. equation be subtracted from the I., and the 
 result is jr2 — a^:^b^, or x'^'^la^ -\-b^ ; from which we 
 {indx=.=!=yy+b'). 
 
 The construction indicated by this equation is as fol- 
 lows : — Take a straight line BM equal to the hypothe- 
 nuse of a right-angled triangle, the sides of which, about 
 the right angle, are a and b. On AM, as a diameter, 
 
 3 N
 
 46G 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 describe a semicircle AHM, which may cut the straight 
 line DC in ¥ and 1'', and these points shall both satisfy 
 the problem ; that is, if the straiglit lines AEF, AF'E', 
 be drawn, then EFrzi, and also E'F~6. These two 
 lines EF, E'F', correspond to the positive root x:^-j- ^ 
 fn--f 6'). For, according to the preceding solution, the 
 straight line AM, which has for its value AB + x, or a 
 -}-^(ft^+6^), ought to be the hypothenuLe of a right- 
 angled triangle, having its right angle upon the line 
 DCF, and that angle may evidently be at either of the 
 points in which the semicircle AHM cuts the line DC. 
 Thus each of the two right-angled triangles AFM, 
 AF'M, which are in all respects e(|ual, satisfy this con- 
 dition, and each of the two lines EF, ET' is necessarily 
 equal to b. 
 
 To exhibit the construction corresponding to the ne- 
 gative root a— — -v/(«f+«'), take BM'— CM, but in a 
 contrary direction. On AM', as a diameter, describe a 
 semicircle AH'M', meeting CD, produced towards Z, in 
 /andy'. Through A draw the lines/Ac,/' Ap', the for- 
 mer meeting the lines CD, CB, in/and e, and the latter 
 in/' and e', and these lines answer to the negative root 
 
 xzZZ v'(«"+*^)- For if, instead of supposing that the 
 
 line d (wliich must pass through A and terminate in the 
 lines E'(', Fr,) falls in the angle BAD, we suppose, that 
 it falls without that angle, so as to have the positions 
 /Af, or /'Ai' ; then, taking BM' for the unknown quan- 
 tity, and supposing that from M' a line M'f, or M^', is 
 drawn perpendicular to/Ae, or J'Ar', it appears, that 
 AM', which is equal to BM' — AB, or BM— AB, or V 
 (a2_|-62) — u, ought to be the hypothenuse of a right- 
 angled triangle, having its right angle on the line CDZ. 
 Thus the vertex is at either of the points /,/', the inter- 
 sections of the line CDZ, and the semicircumference 
 AHM', and each of the lines /Af, /'Ac', is then equal 
 to b. 
 
 From the preceding construction, it appears that in 
 general the problem has four solutions ; so that corres- 
 ponding to the two values of x there are four values of y, 
 viz. AE, AE', Ae, At'. This also appears from the 
 equation a^ + ax";/^ -j-6i/ ; for substituting in it the two 
 values of sc, and deducing thence the values of y, we 
 get 
 
 - *^ /^* 
 
 
 .4 
 
 A-a —a^[a^ + b^)\ 
 
 PuoB. VII. Having given the base AC, the perpen- 
 dicular BD, and the vertical angle ABC, of a triangle ; 
 it is required to determine the triangle. 
 
 In resolving this problem, we may seek the values oi 
 the two sides AB, BC,or else the two remaining angles 
 A, C ; for either of these being known, every thing re- 
 lating to the triangle may be readily determined. We 
 shall give a solution according to each of these methods, 
 with a view to show how algebra is to be applied in rea- 
 soning concerning angles. 
 
 Solution 1. Put a for AC the base, b for BD the per- 
 pendicular, and m and n for the tabular cosine and sine 
 of the given vertical angle. And considering the sides 
 AB,BC as the unknown quantities, let them be denoted 
 by X and y respectively. Draw CE perpendicular to 
 AB. 
 
 In the triangle CBE, by Plane Trigonometry, 
 
 1 : sin. Bz:« : : CB^y : CE ; hence CEzZ'/y. 
 1 : cos. B~»i : : CB~i/ : BE ; hence BE^my. 
 
 Now the triangles ACE, ABD being manifestly simi- 
 lar, we have, by the Elements of Geometry, ACnia : CE 
 ZZny : : AB^Tx : BDz:6, and hence we get this equa- 
 tion 
 
 I. ab^nxy. 
 
 Again, because CE is perpendicular to AB, the ele- 
 ments of geometry give us this other equation, AC^ 
 =AB2-f BC2_2ABxBE, that is in symbols, 
 
 II. a*^x^-{-y^ — 2mxy. 
 
 From these two equations the values of x and y may be 
 found by the methods which we have already explained. 
 
 Solution 2. The base and perpendicular being denoted 
 by a and b, as before, put c for the tangent of the given 
 vertical angle, and v and z for the cotangents of the an- 
 gles A and ACB, that is, for the tangents of the angles 
 ABD and CBD respectively. Then by trigonometry, 
 
 1 : tan. ABD— -y : : BDzzb : DA ; hence DAzzbv, 
 1 : tan. CBDiZz : : BD=.b : DC ; hence DCzzbz. 
 
 Now because AC— AD -f DC, one equation of the 
 problem is 
 
 I. bv + bz:=:a. 
 
 And because the angle ABC is the sum of the angles 
 ABD, DBC, by a known theorem relating to the tangent 
 of the sum of two angles, (see Arithmetic of Sines,) 
 we have this other equation, 
 
 7x/(a2-f 6 = ) 
 
 The first two values of y are always real, but the two 
 Dthers may be imaginary, and they become both imagi- 
 
 1)2 
 
 nary at the same time, viz. when \-a^^:^a-\/{a^+b'), 
 
 4 
 
 that is when b^.,^Sa'^. Then the semicircle AH'M' 
 falls entirely below the line CZ, so that the intersections 
 /andy' do not exist; for suice in that case A^^^ Rn^^ u 
 is evident that the radius TH, the value of which is 
 yf (a^ + b^)—a . 
 — ^^ . IS less than a. 
 
 If - — |-Q'— QV(a^-f6*), then the two values of y are 
 
 4 
 equal, and the points/, /' coincide at the point H where 
 '.he line CZ touches the semicircumference AH'M'. 
 
 II. €=■ 
 
 1 — vz 
 
 And from these two equations the values of v and z, 
 that is, of the cotangents of the angles A and ACB, may 
 be found ; and thence the angles themselves are known 
 by means of the trigonometrical tables. 
 
 377. In these examples the geometrical constructions 
 have been suited to the particular form of the algebraic 
 values of the quantities to be determined. There are, 
 however, general methods applicable to the different 
 orders of equations, so that a geometrical construction 
 of a problem may always be deduced from its algebraic 
 solution by determinate rules. From the examples 
 which we have given in this Section it must be suffi- 
 ciently obvious how the conditions of a geometrical 
 problem are to be reduced to equations, which, by the 
 lules delivered in the course of this treatise, may, as
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 467 
 
 ab 
 
 often as the pi'oblcm is determinate, be reduced to one 
 equation and one unknown quantity. We shall now 
 ahow what are the general methods by which all equa- 
 tions of the first and second orders are to be constructed. 
 
 Co7tatruction of Equations 0/ the First Degree. 
 
 3T8. When it is proposed to construct the equation 
 
 ab 
 xZZ — , where x, a, b, and c denote lines, we have evi- 
 c 
 
 dently only to take a fourth proportional to the three 
 
 lines c, a, and b for the value of x. 
 
 If the equation be xn:— — , we must find the value of 
 
 as just now directed; then calling the value /, we 
 
 fc 
 have. to find the value of — , which is done by seeking a 
 
 fourth proportional to the three lines e, y, c. And we 
 must proceed in a similar manner whatever be the num- 
 ber of letters in the fraction. 
 
 379. If the value of the unknown quantity be com- 
 posed of several fractions, for example if it were x^ 
 
 ab efg mnfiq , . , , ,. 
 
 — 4---^ — -, we must seek successively the Imes 
 
 c ^ hk rst ' 
 
 which express the several fractions, and these, joined 
 
 with tlieir proper signs, will be the value sought. 
 
 380. When the denominator of the fraction is a com- 
 plex quantity, as for example in this expression, 
 
 we may proceed as follows. Let k., k', k", k'" denote 
 four lines such that 
 
 abc—kd^, e^f—k'd^, sh—k"d, i^-=JJ"d. 
 
 Then we have 
 
 _ d''{k-Jfd—k') _ d(k + d—k'} 
 ^— d{k"+k"') — k"+k"' ' 
 
 from which it appears that x is a fourth proportional to 
 k"-\-k"', k-\-d — A' and d. Hence its value may be found 
 when those of k, k', k", and k"' are determined, and they 
 may be had from the equations 
 
 "-d'' ''—IF' ''—1' * —5' 
 
 by proceeding as explained at § 378. 
 
 381. When a line is expressed by an algebraic frac- 
 tion, the terms of the numerator must contain one factor 
 more than those of the denominator ; unless it happen 
 that some one of the lines which enter into the expres- 
 sion is taken as unity, and in this case the terms into 
 which that line enters will have one or more factors 
 fewer than the others, according as the first or some 
 higher power of the line is contained in tliat term. A 
 like observation may be made as to the algebraic ex- 
 pressions for surfaces and solids. 
 
 Construction o/" Equations 0/ the Second Degree, 
 
 382. Equations of the second degree are of one or 
 ether of these three forms 
 
 jT'+orsrA', x^ — ax=b^, ax — x^=b^, 
 
 and the general expression for x deduced from them is 
 
 2 
 
 JT— =1= - ^=: %/(— =±= bA ; from wliich it appears that 
 the determination of the geometrical value of x depends 
 
 upon that of the radical expression ^( — =±^6'*). Now 
 
 (2 
 \-b^) then it will evidently 
 
 be represented by the hypothenuse of a right-angled 
 
 triangle, the sides of which are - and b. And when ii 
 
 2 
 has the other form ^( bA, then it will be repre- 
 sented by the side of a right angled triangle, the other 
 side of which is b, and hypothenuse -. 
 
 383. But without resolving the equation, the value of 
 the unknown quantity may be immediately deduced from 
 the nature of a circle ; for, in the two first cases, viz. 
 x*;^t=«jr~6^, or, as it may be otherwise expressed, 
 
 if a circle be described on C as a centre, with a radius 
 CBzi|a, and a tangent BA=A be drawn, and AC be 
 joined, meeting the circle in D and D', then shall AD 
 express the magnitude of the positive root of the equa- 
 tion jc*-f ajr=6*, and AD' that of its negative root. And 
 again, AD' shall express the magnitude of the positive 
 root of the equation x^ — ax—b^, and AD that of its 
 negative root. 
 
 For, from the nature of the circle, ADxAD'=AB*, 
 that is AD(AD+a)=6», or AD'(AD'— a)=A2 ; hence it 
 appears, that by taking x^AD, we satisfy the equation 
 x[x-\-a)=b^ ; also, taking x=AT)', wc in like manner 
 satisfy the equation x[x — a)=l)^. These values, when 
 expressed in numbers, will manifestly be both positive ; 
 but the positive root of the one equation is the negative 
 root of the other (§ 258), and vice versa. Hence the 
 truth of the construction is obvious. 
 
 384. To construct the third form ax—x'^^b', or 
 
 x{a — x)=:6". 
 
 On AB:=a as a diameter describe a semicircle ; atone 
 of its extremities draw a perpendicular AD^A ; draw 
 DE parallel to AB, meeting the circle in E and E', and 
 draw EF, E'F' perpendicular to the diameter ; then 
 shall AF and AF' be the roots of the equation. 
 
 For from the nature of the circle DExDE', or AFx 
 AF'=AD2, that is AF(«— AF)=A' ; also AF'(a— AF') 
 =:b'^; hence it appears that the equation will be equally 
 satisfied if we take jr=AF, or x^iAF'; consequently 
 AF and AF' are geometrical expressions for the roots 
 of the equation. 
 
 385. The geometrical problems resolved in this Sec- 
 tion have produced equations of the first and second de- 
 grees only ; but others might have been proposed which 
 would have produced equations of the third and higher 
 degrees. Such problems as produce simple or quadra- 
 tic equations may always have their roots exhibited 
 geometrically by means of straight lines and circles ; 
 but if they produce equations of the third or fourth de- 
 grees, then their geometrical constructions cannot be 
 effected by straight lines and circles only ; in either 
 case, however, they may by the help of the conic sec- 
 tions ; and therefore, by means of these curves, we can 
 always find geometrically the roots of any equation of 
 
 3 N 2
 
 468 
 
 ALGEBRA. 
 
 the third or fourth degrees. The (geometrical construc- 
 tion of an ctiuution of any desjrcc exceeding the fourth, 
 cannot even be eflectcd by the conic sections alone, so 
 that hi such a case it would be necessary to recur to 
 curves of a still higher order. 
 
 386. Although the roots of equations of the third and 
 fourth degrees may be expressed geometrically by the 
 help of the conic sections, and thence approximate nu- 
 merical values of them found, yet, on account of the 
 imperfection of instruments, and the difficulty of de- 
 scribing these curves, it must be confessed that such 
 
 constru-^tions are of very little practical utility. This 
 observation applies with still greater force to the con- 
 structions of equations of a higher order than the fourth, 
 which ai-e proporiionably more complex. 
 
 387. Besides the resolution of geometrical problems, 
 there are various other geoiuetrical ilieories to which 
 algebra may be applied. We may mention, in particu- 
 lar, the Theorij of Curves, the Ahithmktic of Sines, 
 and Plane and S/i/tericat Thigonometky. These the 
 reader will find treated in their proper places in the 
 course of this Work. 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Addition of quantities with like si^s, 
 403. 
 of quantities with unlike signs, 
 
 il). 
 the iti-fcise signification of the 
 tL'i'in &% ciiiployeU in al- 
 gchia, ih. 
 Algebra, conntction between it and 
 ariihmetic, 399. 
 history of, ib, 
 Diopmintus the earliest writer 
 
 un it, ib. 
 first introduced into Kurope by 
 
 thtr Arabians, ib. 
 first brought into Italy by Leo- 
 nard, 400, 
 fii"st printed treatise on it by 
 
 Lucas de Borgo, ib. 
 great i]npro\ cinents iu it by 
 
 Vii.ta, ib. 
 much iinprovtd by Harriot, ib. 
 important imjjrovements by 
 
 Descartes, d). 
 Ferniat the rival of Descartes 
 in the career of discoverj', 
 ib. 
 princinal writers since the time 
 
 o( Descartes, -101. 
 its principles independent of 
 
 ^eonittry, ib. 
 definitions and principles^ ib. 
 characters employed, ib. 
 explanation ot the signs of, ib. 
 fundamental operations of, 402. 
 its application to gtometiy, 
 
 462. 
 to resolve geometrical pi-oblems 
 
 by, ib. 
 to resolve questions by, 412. 
 Arabians, algebra nrst introduced into 
 Em-ope by the, 399. 
 
 B 
 
 Binomial theorem, investigation of, 452. 
 
 application of the, 453. 
 Borgo, Lucas de. author of the first 
 printed treatise on algebra, 400. 
 
 Cardan, his rule for cubic equations, 
 discovery of, ib. 
 the irreducible case of, 435. 
 Cube root of a compound quantity, to 
 find the, 421. 
 of a number, 422. 
 of a whole number, cannot 
 be expressed by a fraction, 
 ib. 
 
 Descartes, important improvements by, 
 400. 
 Fermat, the rival of, in the 
 
 career of discovery, ib. 
 principal writers on algebra 
 since the time of, 401. 
 dDjyision of simph- quantities, 405. 
 
 of quantities having exponents, 
 
 ib. 
 of a compound quantity by a 
 
 simple, 40ti. 
 genei-al rule for the, of com- 
 pound quantities, ib. 
 
 ■Emulations, 411. 
 
 general rules for all} 4i2, 
 
 Equations, Simple, questions producing, 
 
 containing more than 
 one unknown quan- 
 tity, 414. 
 
 when there are only 
 two unknown (luan- 
 tities, 415. 
 
 when there are more 
 tlian two unknown 
 quantities, 416. 
 
 questions in which 
 ihciii occur more 
 than one unknown 
 quantity, 414. 
 
 Quadratic, 425. 
 
 pure and affected, ib. 
 
 to resolve a pure, ib, 
 
 forms ^f atfeeled, ib. 
 
 to resolve one, ib. 
 
 the unknown quantity 
 in, has two values, 
 426. 
 
 the product of two sira- 
 pft; equations, 427. 
 
 the roots of a, may be 
 imaginary, 428. 
 
 impossible or imagiua* 
 ry quantities, ib. 
 
 the natureof imaginary 
 quantities not well 
 understood, ib. 
 
 management of impos- 
 sible quantities, ib. 
 
 questions producing, 
 ib. 
 
 tlie negative root of a, 
 
 429. 
 
 some forms of equa- 
 tions of alt oraei's 
 may be resolved as, 
 ib. 
 
 method of resoIu(ion,ib. 
 Cubic, 
 
 to resolve pure, 431. 
 
 a pure, wdl have al- 
 ways one real root, 
 ib. 
 
 a pure, has two imagi- 
 nary roots, ib, 
 
 affected, ib. 
 
 investigation of the 
 rules for, ib, 
 
 the product of three 
 simple equations,432. 
 
 have three roots, ib. 
 
 relations between the 
 roots and coefficients 
 of a. ib. 
 
 must have at least one 
 real root, 431. 
 
 niav have all Uieir roots 
 real, 433. 
 
 the in-educible case of 
 Cardan's rule, 432. 
 
 to resolve the irreduci- 
 ble case by help of 
 the tiisection of an 
 arch, 435. 
 
 rule for the irreducible 
 case, ib. 
 Biquadratic, ib. 
 
 to resolve pure, ib. 
 
 a pure, has four roots, 
 436. 
 
 affected, Euler's me- 
 thod for resolving, ib. 
 
 the pro<ltict of four 
 simple factors. 437. 
 
 have four roots, ib. 
 
 may have eithtrallor 
 two of their roots 
 unagiiiary, ib. 
 
 Equations, General properties of, ib. 
 
 the general n-^olution oli not 
 yet diiicovered, 433. 
 
 reducible into as many sim- 
 ple factors as there are 
 units ill the exponent of 
 the degree, ib. 
 
 propertiesof the roots of, 439. 
 
 some of the routs supposed 
 equal to 0, ib. 
 
 the number of divisors of the 
 second, third, !kc. de- 
 giX'cs. il>. 
 
 the imaginarj- roots of, occur 
 in pairs, ib. 
 
 whose degree is o<ld have at 
 least one {"eal root, ib. 
 
 the nunilwr of positive and 
 negative roots of, ib. 
 
 The trausformation of, 440. 
 
 to transtbrm an, to another 
 having the same roots 
 with opposite signs, ib. 
 
 to increase or dimmish the 
 roots of. ib. 
 
 to take away any term of an, 
 ib. 
 
 to take away the coefficient 
 of the highest powers of 
 the unknown quantity, 
 ib. 
 
 Extermination of unknown 
 quantities from, ib. 
 
 to free an, from radical quan- 
 tities, 441. 
 
 Resolution of numerical, ha- 
 ving rational roots, ib. 
 
 method of divisors, 442. 
 
 having equal roots, ib 
 
 Metliud of approximation, 
 444. 
 
 to find the limits of the roots 
 
 of an, ib. 
 to approximate to the roots 
 
 of, 445, 
 Newton's method of approxi- 
 mation, ib, 
 the same method applicable 
 to the extraction of the 
 roots of numbers, 446. 
 to find general formulas for 
 
 approximaiiiig. 447. 
 the method of approximation, 
 improved by Lagrange, 
 446. 
 Indeterminate. 447. 
 
 of the first degree, ib. 
 of the second degree, 449. 
 Diophantine problems, 
 
 450. 
 construction of, of the 
 
 first degree, 4C7. 
 coustruciion of, of the 
 second degree, ib. 
 Enter, his method for resolving affected 
 
 biquadratics, 436. 
 Evolution, 419, 
 
 to find any root of a simple 
 
 quantity, ib. 
 to rind any root of a fraction, 
 
 ib. 
 fractional powers, ib. 
 to find the square root of a 
 
 compound quantity, ib. 
 to extract the square root of 
 
 a number, 421. 
 the square root of a whole 
 number cannot be expres- 
 sed by a fi-action, ib. 
 to find the cube root ufa com* 
 
 pound quantity, ib. 
 to exti-act the cube root of a 
 nisnber, 422. 
 
 Evolution, the cul>c root of a whole 
 number cannot be expressed 
 
 bv a fraction, ib. 
 to fuid the root of a fraction, 
 
 ib. 
 to find ihe fourth root of any 
 quantity, ib. 
 Europe, algebra first introduced intb, 
 by the Arabians, 399. 
 
 F 
 
 Fractions, 407. 
 
 to find the greatest ctmimon 
 measure of two quantitiesj 
 
 403. 
 to reduce to lower terms, 409, 
 to reduce an integer lo the 
 
 form of a, ib. 
 to reduce a mixed number to 
 
 an improper, ib. 
 to -reduce an improper, to a 
 
 whole or mixed number, ib. 
 (o reduce, to others having 
 
 a common denominator, ib. 
 to add and iiubtract, ib. 
 to multiply, ib. 
 to divide one, by another, 
 
 410. 
 the reciprocal of a, ib. 
 Continued, 460. 
 rule for reducing common, to 
 
 contmued, 461. 
 to approximate to the value 
 
 of^a, ib. 
 principal properties of the 
 
 converging, 462. 
 periodic, ib. 
 
 H 
 
 Harriot, algebra much improred by, 400. 
 
 I 
 
 Involution, 418. 
 
 general rule for, ib. 
 to find the powers of simple 
 quantities, 419. 
 
 Leonard, algebra first brought ^nto Italy 
 
 by, 400, 
 Logarithms and exponential quantities. 
 
 fundamental principles of, 
 454. 
 
 general properties of, 455. 
 
 useful for abridging calcula- 
 tions, ib. 
 
 there may be innumerable 
 different sjstems of, ib, 
 
 investigation of rules for the 
 calculation of, 456. 
 
 general expression for tbe^ 
 of a number, ib. 
 
 the system of Napier, 457. 
 
 the modulus, ib. 
 
 investigation of series which 
 shall in every case con- 
 verge, ib. 
 
 Napit-r's system compared 
 with Briggs', ib, 
 
 application ot the formulas, 
 ib. 
 
 the modulus' of the common 
 system of. 459. 
 
 series for deriving the, of 
 numbers from one ano- 
 ther, ib. 
 
 investigation of the series for 
 a number, in terms oi it^ 
 
 459.
 
 ALLS 
 
 AIG 
 
 469 
 
 I^eacithms, radical number of Napier's bnuicli of tlie auciciu nja- 
 
 system of, 460. tlicmatics, ib. 
 
 Lucas cle Bui-go, first printed treatise on Proportion, tlie euniiiiun properties of, 
 
 algebra by, 400. ib. 
 
 Multiplication of simple quantities liav. Series, Arithmetical, 430. 
 
 ing coertieienls, 404. to fiiid the last term of 
 
 of powers of the same quan- tlie, ib. 
 
 lily, ib. to lind the sem of the, 
 
 general rule for the, of com* ib. 
 
 pound quantities, 405. Ceoiiietrieal, ib. 
 
 to find the last term of 
 P the, ib. 
 
 to find the sum of ihej 
 Piroportion. 4io. ib. 
 
 the theory oi^ an important Infinite, 450. 
 
 Infinite, to develope quantities 
 into, by division ami 
 evolution, ib. 
 to expand quantities in- 
 to, by the method of 
 indeterminate cuetU- 
 eienis, 451. 
 Reversion of, 454. 
 
 reverted by the method 
 of indeterminate coel* 
 fieients, ib. 
 Surds, 42.1. 
 
 a flivivisor of a whole number, ib. 
 a prime number, and mtmbers 
 
 prinie to eaeh other, ib. 
 qiMutities ihut cainiot have their 
 
 roots expressed by numbers, ib. 
 iiK'outmeiuurubles, 424. 
 
 Surds, to express a rational quantity in 
 
 the form of a, ib. 
 principles upon svliieh the manage- 
 
 inelit of, depends, ib. 
 to rt-(luee, to others of The same 
 
 denomination, ib. 
 to reduce, to their most simple 
 
 terms, ib. 
 to add and subtract, ib. 
 to multiply and divide, ib. 
 to iii\olveaml evolve, 425. 
 to free an equation from, ib. 
 
 Vieta, ^^reat improvements in algebra 
 by, 400. 
 
 ALGENIB, the name of two fixed stars. One of 
 these, marked y, is of the second magnitude, and is situ- 
 ated in the wing of Pegasus ; the other marked «, is be- 
 tween the second and third magnitude, and is situated in 
 the right side of Perseus, (to) 
 
 ALGEZIRAS, or Old Giur altar, a maritime town 
 of Andalusia, in Spain. In 7 13, the Moors entered Spain 
 by this town ; and they were driven from it in 1344. 
 Cannon are said to have been first used at Aigeziras, 
 when it was wrested from the possession of the Moors. 
 This place is celebrated for a naval victory gained over 
 the French and Spaniards by sir James Saumarez, in 
 July 1801. W. Long. 5'' 20'. N.Lat. 36°5'. 
 
 ALGIERS, one of the most considerable kingdoms in 
 that part of the northern coast of Africa, which is now 
 called Barbary, comprehends part of ancient Mauritania, 
 particularly what was called Mauritania Caesariensis, and 
 ancient Numidia. It derives its present name from its 
 metropolis, which the Turks call Algezair, Al-jezair, or 
 Al-jezirah, the Island ; because there was an island be- 
 fore the city, which has since been joined to it by a mole. 
 According to Dr Shaw, to whom we are indebted for 
 the only minute and accurate account of this kingdom, 
 it is bounded on the west by Twunt and the mountains of 
 Trara ; on the east, by the river Zaine, the ancient 
 Tusca, which separates it from Tunis; on tlie north, by 
 the Mediterranean sea ; and on the south, by the Sahara, 
 or Numidian desert. The dominions, which the Alge- 
 rines possess beyond the Tell, or the advanced pan of 
 mount Atlas, are so precarious and ill defined, that the 
 northern skirt of the Sahara seems to be the proper 
 boundary of the kingdom in that direction. Geogra- 
 phers have varied considerably concerning its extent; 
 but Dr Shaw, after a careful computation, found its true 
 length to be about 460 miles, from Twunt, below the 
 mountains of Trara, in 0° 16' W. Long. toTa-barka, upon 
 the river Zaine, in 9° 16' E. Long. Its breadth is very 
 irregular ; in some places not exceeding 40 miles, and 
 in other parts upwards of 100. 
 
 Some modern geographers have divided this kingdom 
 into many provinces, according to the petty royalties 
 into which it was cantoned before and after the Turkish 
 conquests. It now contains only three ; the province of 
 Tlemsan, by some called Tremecen and Mascara, to 
 the west; Titterie, orTiteri, to the south ; and Con- 
 STANTiNA to thc east. Each of these provinces is go- 
 verned by a bey, or viceroy, who is entirely dependent on 
 the dey of Algiers. Of these governments, the eastern 
 or Levantine, which is also called Beylick, is by far the 
 richest and most considerable. It contains the tovvns of 
 Bona, Constantina, Gigeri, Bujcya, Stessa, Tebef, Za- 
 
 moura, Biscara, and Nccanz, in all of which garrisons 
 have been established by the Turks. This province, 
 which is nearly equal to the other two in extent, includes 
 thc ancient kingdoms ol Cuco and Labez ; though these 
 kingdoms, inaccessible to the Algerines, are still go- 
 verned by their own cheyks, elected by each of their 
 adowars, or hordes. Besides these places, we may men- 
 tion a factory established at Callo by thc French, under 
 the direction of thc company of the French Bastion. 
 (See Constantina). The western government, ex- 
 tending from the frontier village Twunt, and the moun- 
 tains of Trara on the west, to the river, Ma-Saffran on 
 the east, is about two hundred miles in length. It is al- 
 most equally distributed mto mountains and valleys, and 
 were it better supplied with fountains and streams, 
 would be more delightful, as it is in general niore fer- 
 tile, than the eastern part of this kingdom. This pro- 
 vince contains the towns of Warran, or Oran, a fortifi- 
 ed city, about a mile in circumference, which the Spa- 
 niards have decorated with several beautiful churches, 
 and other edifices, in the Roman style of architecture ; 
 Musty-gannim, built in the form of a theatre, open to- 
 wards the sea, but enclosed in every other direction with 
 impending hills ; Tniss, Tennis, or Tenez, formerly the 
 capital of one of the petty kingdoms, uito which this 
 country was divided, though it now contains only a few 
 miserable hovels ; Sher-shell. formerly the capital like- 
 wise of one of the petty royalties, now in great reputa- 
 tion for its steel, pottery, and iron ware ; situated on the 
 ruins of an ancient city scarcely inferior to Carthage in 
 extent, whose fine pillars, capitals, capacious cisterns, 
 mosaic pavements, which still remain, and the fragments 
 of a stupendous aqueduct, excite very high ideas of its 
 ancient magnificence ; Mars-al-Quibber, one of the 
 finest harbours in Africa ; Tlemsan, or Tremecen, for- 
 merly the capital of the kingdom of that name, in which 
 are still to be seen some fragments of Roman architec- 
 ture. Titterie, the southern province, is much inferior 
 to the western in extent, not exceeding 60 miles either 
 in length or breadth. Though this province is inter- 
 sected by considerable ridges of mountains, it contains a 
 great proportion of rich champaign country. In this pro- 
 vince is situated Algiers, the capital of the whole king- 
 dom, a distinct description of which will be given at the 
 end of this article. Bleeda and Medea are its only in- 
 land towns, each of them about a mile in circuit, but 
 surrounded only with walls of mud, perforated in many 
 places by the hornet. 
 
 No country is happier in its climate than Algiers. 
 In the cultivated parts of this kingdom, particularly, the 
 air is so temperate, that the sultry heat of summer and
 
 470 
 
 ALGIERS. 
 
 the piercing cold of winter arc equally unknown. During 
 twelve years that Dr Shaw resided in that country, the 
 thermometer descended only twice to the freezing 
 point ; nor did it ever rise to that of sultry heat, except 
 when the scorching winds blew from the desert of 
 Sahara. The seasons slide imperceptibly into each 
 other ; and the range of the barometer is only from 29 
 ■Jj inches, to 30-,*5, thus indicating all the revolutions of 
 the weather in the space of 1 inch and ^\. The winds 
 blow generally from the sea. Easterly winds are com- 
 mon from May to September ; and are succeeded by the 
 westerly breezes which prevail longer, and rise more 
 frequently. About the equinoxes, the impetuosity of the 
 Africus, or soulh-west wind, called by the mariners of 
 these seas Lsbetch, is very sensibly felt. Southerly 
 winds, after blowing over the Sahara, are hot and vio- 
 lent, but are by no means frequent at Algiers. Some- 
 times, indeed, they blow for five or six days together in 
 July and August, rendering the air so excessively 
 suffocating, that it is necessary, during their continuance, 
 to spnniile the floors of the houses with water. In this 
 climate, the serenity of the summer sky is seldom 
 overcast by a single cloud. The first rains begin to fall 
 in September, and in some years a month later ; after 
 which, or about the middle of October, wheat is sown, 
 and beans are planted. If the latter rains fall in the 
 middle of April, the crop is thought secure ; and har- 
 vest commences about the end of May, or the begin- 
 ning of June. In this charming climate the trees are 
 clothed in unfading verdure. They begin to bud in 
 February ; in April, the fruit attains its full size, and is 
 completely ripe in May. 
 
 Though some parts of this country are extremely fer- 
 tile, its soil is by no means equal. In many places it 
 is hot, dry, and barren ; susceptible, perhaps, of im- 
 provement, but left by the indolent and unskilful natives 
 uncultivated and waste. The species of grain cultiva- 
 ted here are, wheat and barley, rice, Indian corn, and a 
 kind of millet, called drab, which is preferred to barley 
 for fattening cattle, and of which birds are so fond, that 
 to guard it from their depredations, it is necessary to 
 keep up a continued noise through the whole day. Ac- 
 cording to the primitive customs of the eastern nations, 
 the Algeriiies tread out their corn, by driving mules or 
 horses around the ncdders, or thrashing-floors, on which 
 the sheaves are spread open. To v.-innow the grain, 
 when thus trodden out, they throw it up against the 
 wind in a shovel, and then lodge it in maltamores, or 
 subterraneous magazines. Of the pulse kind, beans, 
 lentiles, and garvan^os, or chick pea, are the most es- 
 teemed and abundant ; and their gardens are well 
 stored with herbs, roots, and fruit, in gi-eat variety. 
 
 But the riches of the Algerines consist chiefly in 
 their cattle, of which they have considerable variety. 
 Of these the most remarkable are, the horse, the mule, 
 and the ass ; the kumrah, a serviceable little animal, the 
 offspring of the ass and cow, single hoofed like the for- 
 mer, but having a sleek skin, and a head and tail like 
 those of the cow ; the camel, the dromedary, or, as it is 
 there called, the Machary. Their black cattle are, in 
 general, small and slender, yielding little milk, and that 
 of inferior quality. They have two sorts of sheep ; the 
 one kind remarkable for its breadth of tail ; the other, 
 which is bred in the neighbourhood of the Sahara, is 
 almost as tall as our fallow-deer, which it somewhat re- 
 sembles in shape. Its flesh is dry, and its fleece as 
 coarse as the hair of goats. In Algiers are to be seen 
 
 large herds of wild cattle, called by the Arabs, bekkcr- 
 el-wash ; these are distinguished from tame cattle by 
 the roundness of their bodies, the breadth of their 
 fronts, and the inflexion of their horns. The fishtail, 
 or lerwcc, is a species of goat, about the size of a heifer 
 of a year old, but has a rounder turn of body, with a 
 tuft of shagged hair upon the knees and neck : it is so 
 exceedingly timorous, that when pursued, it will throw 
 itself down rocks and precipices. Besides these, the 
 deserts of Algiers abound with animals of a fiercer 
 nature, lions, panthers, leopards, hyaenas, jackalls. Sec. 
 
 This country is intersected by bold ridges of moun- 
 tains, of which the most remarkable are Mount At- 
 las ; for a particular description of which, see At- 
 las ; the mountains of Trara ; the Boojereah ; the 
 Anwall mountains ; and those of Tur-jura and Feli- 
 zia. 
 
 The rivers which deserve to be particularly noticed 
 are, the Ziz, which flows through the province of 
 Tremecen, and the desert of Anguid, into the Medi- 
 terranean ; the Haregol, supposed to be the Sign of 
 Ptolemy, issuing from the great Atlas, and flowing 
 through the desert of Anguid into the sea, about five 
 leagues from Oran; the Mina, a large river, supposed 
 to be the Chylematis of Ptolemy, which crosses the plain 
 of Bathala, and falls into the sea near the town of Arzew ; 
 the Shellif, Zilef, or Zilif ; the Belef, probably the Car- 
 ihena of the ancients ; the Hued-al-quiver, called by 
 Europeans Zinganir, and supposed to be the ancient 
 Nalabata, or Nasaba; the Suf-Gemar, or Suf-Gimmar 
 al Rumniel, the Ampsaga of Ptolemy ; the Ladag, or 
 Ludeg ; and the Guadi, or Guadel Barbar. 
 
 Algiers, as we have already mentioned, formed a con- 
 siderable part of Mauritania Tingitana, which, being 
 reduced by Julius Caesar to a Roman province, was from 
 him called Mauritania Caesariensis. The Romans were 
 driven out of Africa by the Vandals, who were, in their 
 turn, expelled by Belisarius, the Greek emperor Jus- 
 thiian's general. About the middle of the 7th centuiy, a 
 new revolution was effected by the Saracens, who, hav- 
 ing obtained possession of this part of the country, di- 
 vided it into a number of petty states or kingdoms, 
 governed by chiefs of their own nation and choice. Their 
 power continued till the year 1051, when Abubeker-Ben- 
 Omar, called by the Spaniards Abu-Texefien, an Arab 
 of the Zinhagian tribe, provoked by the tyranny of the 
 Saracens, assembled, by the assistance of the Mara- 
 bouts, a poweriul army of malcontents, defeated the 
 Arabian cheyks in many engagements, and reduced 
 the whole province of Tingitana under his own domin- 
 ion. 
 
 Texefien was succeeded by his son Joseph, a prince 
 who inherited all his valour and enterprise. He laid 
 the foundation ol Morocco, which he intended to make 
 the capital of his empire ; but while that city was buil- 
 ding, he found himself engaged in a formidable war. 
 Tremecen, now a province of Algiers, was at that time 
 occupied by a powerful sect of Mahometans called 
 Zeneti, to whom Joseph sent ambassadors for the pur- 
 pose, as he gave out, of reclaiming them to the true 
 faith. The Zeneti, resenting his interference, put the 
 ambassador to death, and invaded his dominions with an 
 army of 50,000 men. On hearing of these outrages, 
 Joseph mustered an army, which he conducted by long 
 marches into the country of the Zeneti, who, unable to 
 oppose his progress, fled with precipitation towards 
 Fez, from which they expected to procure assistance
 
 ALGIERS. 
 
 471 
 
 The Fezzans, however, wishing to recommend them- 
 selves to tliu favour of Joseph, attacked these unhappy 
 people Willie encumbered with their families and bag- 
 gatje, and lauitmg with fatigue and hunger. Moslofthe 
 Zeneti were put to the sword ; and the few, who surviv- 
 ed the carnage ot the field, were either drowned in at- 
 tempiing to cross a river, or precipitating themselves in 
 their liight over some lofty rocks, were dashed to pieces 
 by ineir fall. On this occasion, not fewer than a million 
 of Zelicti, men, women, and children, are said to have 
 lost tlieir lives ; their country was reduced by Joseph to 
 a mere desert, but was soon repeopled by a numerous 
 colony of Fezzans, who settled there under the protec- 
 tion of the king, whose cause they had so zealously es- 
 poused. Yet even the services of the Fezzans did not 
 save them from the restless ambition of Joseph. On 
 some pretext he declared war against these faithful 
 allies, and reducing them to the condition of tributaries, 
 extended his conquests along the Mediterranean. His 
 vengeance was next directed against some Arabian 
 cheyks, who had refused to submit to his authority. Even 
 their castles and fortresses, which till then had been 
 deemed impregnable, could not protect them from the 
 fury of this formidable conqueror : in a short time he 
 completely subdued them, and thus established the ex- 
 tensive empire of the Morabites. 
 
 This empire was not long occupied by the descend- 
 ants of Joseph ; for, in the twelfth century, they were 
 displaced by a Marabout, named Mohavedin. The race 
 of priests whom Mohavedin introduced was quickly ex- 
 pelled by Abdulac, governor of Fez ; who was, in his 
 turn, overpowered by the Saarifs of Hascen, the descen- 
 dants of those Arabian princes whom Abu-Texefien had 
 formerly dispossessed of these dominions. . 
 
 To secure themselves in their new conquests, the 
 Sharifs divided them into several petty kuigdoms or dis- 
 tricts, of which the present kingom of Algiers contained 
 four; Trcmecen, Tenez, Algiers Proper, and Bujeyah. 
 For several centuries mutual friendship prevailed among 
 those sovereigns ; but at length the king of Tremecen, 
 having violated some articles of the league which united 
 them, was attacked by Abul-farez, king of Tenez, who 
 deprived him of his territory, and soon after obtained 
 possession likewise of Bujeyah. After his death, new 
 discords arose among his three sous, who inherited his 
 dominions ; and Spain, taking advantage of their dissen- 
 sions, sent out against Barbary a powerful fleet and ar- 
 my, under the command of the count of Navarre, A. D. 
 1505. Alarmed by the progress of the Spaniards, who 
 seized the important cities of Oran and Bujeyah, with 
 some others, the Algerines had recourse to Selim 
 Eutemi, a warlike Arabian prince. Eutcmi hastened 
 to their assistance with a number of his bravest sub- 
 jects ; but, in spite of his opposition, the Spaniards 
 landed a powerful army near Algiers, which they ren- 
 dered tributary to Spain, and erected a strong fort on 
 a small island opposite the city, which prevented the 
 corsairs of Algiers from sailing either into or out of the 
 harbour. 
 
 On the death of Ferdinand, king of Spain, (A. D. 
 1516,) the Algerines resolved to make an effort to 
 shake off this galling yoke. With this view they sent 
 an embassy to Horuc Barbarossa, a corsair, whose name 
 was dreaded from the Dardanelles to the Straits of 
 Gibraltar. Barbarossa was on a cruise with a considera- 
 ble squadronof galleys, when the embassy of the Alger- 
 ines arrived, imploring his assistance in driving the 
 
 Spaniards from their country, and promising him a 
 gratuity adequate to such an important service. The 
 corsair rejoiced in this invitation, which opened new 
 prospects to his ambition ; and, despatching 18 galleys 
 and 13 barks to the assistance of the Algerines, he 
 himself advanced towards the city by land with 800 
 Turks, 3000 Jigelites, and 2000 Moorish volunteers. 
 Instead of marching immediately to Algiers, he went 
 first to Sher-shel, where Hassan, another celebrated 
 pirate, had established his residence ; and having hidu- 
 ccd him, by a promise of friendship, to surrender, the 
 perfidious Barbarossa ordered his head to be struck off, 
 seized on his ships, and obliged the Turks, who had 
 been his adherents, to follow him in his expedition to Al- 
 giers. 
 
 When he approached the city, he was met l)y Eu- 
 temi, accompanied by all the inhabitants, who hailed 
 him as their deliverer with acclamations of liiumph and 
 joy. One of the most splendid apartments in the palace 
 was allotted him for his lodging ; he was treated with 
 the most distinguished honour ; and his ambition, in- 
 flamed by such flattering attention, aspired to the 
 sovereignty of the country which he had been invited 
 to protect. To facilitate his elevation to that dignity, 
 he murdered prince Eutemi, his hospitable entertainer, 
 and rode along the streets surrounded by his soldiers, 
 who exclaimed as they proceeded, " Long live king 
 Horuc Barbarossa, the invincible king of Algiers, the 
 chosen of God to deliver the people from the oppression 
 of the Christians ; and destruction to all that shall oppose, 
 or refuse to own him as their lawful sovereign." Over- 
 awed by the menace which these words contained, the 
 Algerines acknowledged him as their king ; while Za- 
 phira, the unhappy widow of Eutemi, to avoid the 
 brutality of his murderer, whom she unsuccessfully at- 
 tempted to stab, put an end to her own existence by poi- 
 son. 
 
 Barbarossa exercised with relentless cruelty the 
 power which he had thus violently usurped. Impatient 
 of his tyranny, the Algerines formed a plot for his des- 
 truction ; but having detected their design, he ordered 
 twenty of the principal conspirators to be beheaded, their 
 bodies to be buried in a dunghill, and their estates to be 
 confiscated. This severity so terrified his new subjects, 
 that they never again formed any similar design, cither 
 against him or his successors. 
 
 The son of Eutemi had fled for protection to the mar- 
 quis of Gomarez, who was, at that time, governor of 
 Oran ; and, burning with revenge against the savage 
 Barbarossa, suggested to the marquis a plan, by which 
 the city of Algiers might be put into the hands of the 
 Spaniards. Gomarez sent the young prince to Spain to 
 lay his plan before the cardinal Ximcnes, who, deeming 
 it practicable, despatched a fleet with 10,000 land forces 
 to drive the Turks out of Algiers, and restore young Se- 
 lim to the throne. Scarcely had the fleet come within 
 sight of land, when it was dispersed by a storm, which 
 drove the greater part of the ships against the rocks ; 
 most of the Spaniards perished amid the waves, and the 
 few who reached the shore were either killed by the 
 Turks, or detained as slaves. The insolence of Barbar 
 rossa, who regarded this storm as an immediate inter- 
 position of Heaven for the establishment of his authority, 
 now exceeded all bounds ; and the Arabians, alarmed 
 by his ambition and his success, entreated Hamidel Ab- 
 des, king of Tenez, to assist them in expelling the Turks 
 out of Algiers. Hamidel having first stipulated, that, in.
 
 472 
 
 ALGIERS. 
 
 case of his ^access, he slioiild obtain the perpetual so- 
 vereignty ol that country for himself and his descendants, 
 set out at the head of 10,000 Moors; and when he en- 
 tered the Algcrine territory, was joined by all the Arabs 
 in that kingdom. With only 1000 Turkish niusque- 
 tccrs, and 500 Granada Moors, liarbarossa completely 
 routed this numerous army, pursued Hamidel to the 
 gates of his capital, which he took by assault, and 
 obliged the inhabitants to acknowledge him as sove- 
 reign. Immediately after this conquest, he received an 
 embassy from the inhabitants of Tremecen, offering even 
 to make him their sovereign if he would assist them in 
 cxpelluig the reigning prince, with whom they were 
 displeased, on account of his having dethroned his ne- 
 phew, and obliged him to ilee to Oran. Such an invit- 
 ing opportunity of enlarging his dominions was eagerly 
 embraced by the ambitious Darbarossa. His artillery 
 enabled him easily to disperse the army of the king of 
 Tremecen, who being forced to retire to his capital, was 
 betrayed by his disaffected subjects ; his head was cut 
 ofl", and sent to Barbarossa, with afresh invitation to take 
 possession of the sovereignty. It was not long belbre 
 the Tremecenians had reason to regret the loss of their 
 former monarch. The tyranny of Barbarossa excited 
 general discontent among his new subjects, which they 
 were at little pains to conceal ; and he himself, appre- 
 hensive of a revolt, endeavoured to give stability to his 
 thi-one, by entering into an alliance with the king of Fez, 
 and by garrisoning with his own troops all the cities in 
 the kingdom. Notw ithstanding his precautions, some of 
 these cities rose in rebellion ; upon which he employed 
 Escander, a man relentless and unprincipled as himself, 
 to reduce them again to subjection. Exasperated be- 
 yond measure by their united cruelties, the Tremece- 
 )uans now formed schemes for the expulsion of Barba- 
 rossa from their dominions, and for the restitution of their 
 lawful prince Abuchen-Men : but their designs were 
 discovered, and many of their conspirators murdered in 
 the cruellest manner. Fortunately the prince escaped 
 to Oran, and placed himself vmder the protection of the 
 marquis of Gomarez, who represented his case to his 
 sovereign Charles V. then lately arrived in Spain. Charles 
 immediately ordered the marquis to undertake the cause 
 of the young king with an army of 10,000 men, and Go- 
 marez began his march without delay. Being joined by 
 jn-ince Selim with a great number of Arabs and Moors, 
 they first resolved to attack the important fortress of 
 Calau, situated between Tremecen and Algiers, and 
 commanded by Escander with about 300 Turks. After 
 a vigorous defence, they were compelled to surrender; 
 and though they stipulated for honourable terms, were 
 all massacred by the Arabs, except sixteen, who clung 
 close to the stirrups of the Spanish general and the king. 
 All this time Barbarossa had kept close in his capital ; 
 but, being now alarmed by the progress of his enemies, 
 who were marching directly towards Tremecen, he ad- 
 vanced to meet them at the head of 1500 Turks, and 
 5000 Moorish horse. He had not proceeded far when 
 his council advised him to return and fortify himself in 
 the city. But it was now too late ; for the inhabitants, 
 resolved to rid themselves of his tyranny, would not open 
 their gates till their lawful prince appeared before them. 
 Barbarossa had now no other resource but to retire to 
 the citadel, and there wait an opportunity to escape. For 
 some time he defended himself vigorously ; and it was 
 not till his pcovisions began to fail, that he stole away 
 secretly with his immense treasures through a subter- 
 
 raneous passage, which he liad previously caused to be 
 dug for that purpose. When his flight was discovered, 
 lie hoped to retard the pursuit of his enemies, by strew- 
 ing money, jewels, an<l plate, in their way : but the 
 stratagem failed ; for Gomarez, placing himself at the 
 head of his troops, obliged them to march on till they 
 overtook the tyrant on the banks of the Huexda, about 
 eight leagues distant from Tremecen. The Turks 
 fought with obstinate valour, but were soon overpower- 
 ed by numbers, and cut to peices. Barbarossa himself 
 was slain while fighting with all the fury of despair ; his 
 head was fixed on the point of a spear, and carried to 
 Tremecen, where Abuchen-Men was proclaimed king 
 to the great joy of the inhabitants. 
 
 When the Turks at Algiers heard of their sovereign's 
 death, they immediately proclaimed his brother Hay- 
 radin, known likewise by the name of Barbarossa, who, 
 with equal valour, possessed even greater abilities than 
 Horuc, and was more fortunate. Instead of pursuing 
 his advantage, the Spanish general sent back his troops 
 to Europe; while Hayradin, freed from the terror of a 
 foreign enemy, regulated with admirable prudence the 
 interior police of his kingdom, which he raised to a de- 
 gree of strength and grandeur which it had never before 
 possessed. Aware, however, of the hatred which his 
 tyranny had excited in the Algerines, and apprehensive, 
 perhaps, that his continual depredations would at length 
 provoke the resentment of the Christians, he placed his 
 dominions under the protection of the Grand Signior, 
 who appointed him his viceroy or bashaw of Algiers, 
 and furnished him with such a powerful army, as en- 
 abled him to set at defiance both his domestic and foreign 
 enemies. 
 
 With this accession of power, Hayradin immediately- 
 entered on the execution of two important projects 
 which he had long been meditating. The first was the 
 destruction of the Spanish fort, which greatly annoyed 
 his metropolis, in which, though the Spaniards held out 
 to the last extremity, his superior force enabled him to 
 succeed without much difficulty. His next undertaking 
 was to form a commodious harbour for his navy, by unit- 
 ing the small island before Algiers to the main land, by 
 means of a strong mole. By this important work, in 
 which 30,000 Christian slaves were employed for three 
 years without intermission, Hayradin rendered himself 
 formidable not only to the Moors and Arabs, but even 
 to the maritime Christian powers, and particularly to 
 Spain. The Grand Signior, informed of the activity and 
 success of his viceroy, granted him a fresh supply of 
 money, by which he was enabled to build a stronger fort 
 than that which he had wrested from the Spaniards, and 
 to erect batteries on all places that might favour the 
 landing of any enemy. 
 
 The future history of Hayradin becomes involved with 
 that of Tunis, and is connected with a celebrated cam- 
 paign, which the emperor Charles V. undertook for the 
 purpose of delivering his own subjects, and the Euro- 
 peans in general, from the insolence and exactions of the 
 corsairs. The sultan was induced by the fame of his 
 exploits to offer him the command of the Turkish fleet, 
 as the only person whose skill and valour in naval affairs 
 qualified him to oppose Andrew Doria, the greatest sea 
 officer of his age. Hayradin, proud of this distinction, 
 repaired to Constantinople ; and, having gained the en- 
 tire confidence of Solyman and his Vizier, communicated 
 to them a scheme for annexing the kingdom of Tunis to 
 the Turkish dominions. Mahmcd, the last king of that
 
 ALGIERS. 
 
 4/3 
 
 country, had appointed fts his successor Muley Ilascen, 
 one or the youngest of thirty-four sons, whom he had by 
 diflerent wives. That prince, who owed this preference 
 not to his own merit, but to the ascendency which his 
 mother had acquired over the kinij, became impatient to 
 mount the throne ; and, having first poisoned his father, 
 he tlicn proceeded, with the barbarous policy usual in 
 countries where polygamy prevails, and the right of suc- 
 cession is undefined, to murder all his brothers whom 
 he could get into his powei-. Alraschid, one of the el- 
 dest, found means to escape his rage ; and having vainly 
 endeavoured, with the assistance of some Arabian chiefs, 
 to recover the throne which of right belonged to him, 
 he fled to Algiers, and implored the protection of Hay- 
 radiii. The ambitious corsair saw at once the advanta- 
 ges which might result from supporting the title of that 
 unfortunate prince, and therefore received him with 
 every mark of kindness and respect. As he was then 
 on the eve of embarking for Constantinople, he easily 
 persuaded Alraschid to accompany him, assuring him of 
 assistance from the grand signior, whom he represented 
 as the most generous, as well as the greatest monarch 
 in the world. When they arrived at Constantinople, 
 the perfidious Hayradin, regardless of his promises to 
 Alraschid, proposed to the sultan a scheme for obtain- 
 ing possession of the kingdom of Tunis, by making use 
 of the name of the exiled prince, and co-operating with 
 the party in that kingdom which favoured his cause. 
 Solyman, approving of this treacherous proposal, entrus- 
 ted Hayradin with the command of a powerful fleet and 
 numerous army ; and while Alraschid, grateful for this 
 supposed generosity, was flattering himself that he 
 should enter his capital in triumph, he was suddenly ar- 
 rested, shut up in the seraglio, and never heard of more. 
 Meanwhile, Barbarossa sailed with a fleet of two hun- 
 dred and fifty vessels ; and having first ravaged the coasts 
 of Italy, and spread terror through every part of that 
 country, he appeared before Tunis, declaring, that he 
 iiad come to assert the right of Alraschid, whom he pre- 
 tended to have left sick on board the admiral's galley. 
 The inhabitants of Tunis, weary of Muley Hascen's 
 government, eagerly took arms in behalf of Alraschid, 
 and threw open their gates to Hayradin, whom 
 they hailed as the restorer of their lawful sove- 
 rei^. When that prince, however, failed to appear, 
 and the name of Solyman alone was heard among the 
 acclamations of the Turkish soldiers, they began to sus- 
 pect the corsaii-'s treachery, and rushing furiously to 
 arms, surrounded the citadel into which he had led his 
 troops. By one brisk discharge of artillery from the 
 ramparts, Barbarossa dispersed these numerous assail- 
 ants; who thus intimidated, immediately acknowledged 
 the authority of Solyman as their sovereign, and Hayra- 
 din as his viceroy. 
 
 The corsair, thus established in Tunis, was enabled to 
 carry on his depredations against the Christian states to 
 a greater extent, and with more destructive violence ; 
 and the outrages committed against his subjects, both m 
 Spain and Italy, roused the resentment of Charles, to 
 whom all Christendom seemed to look for deliverance 
 from the oppression of these infamous pirates. Moved 
 at the same time by the entreaties of Muley Ilascen, 
 who had applied to him as the only monarch able to re- 
 store him to his dominions, Charles resolved to invade 
 Tunis with the whole force of his empire. On the 16th 
 of July, 1535, he set sail from Cagliari, with a fleet of 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 near 500 vessels, having on hoaid above COfiOO regular 
 troops ; and after a favouiable voyage, landed within 
 sight of Tunis. 
 
 Hayradin, apprised of his preparations, and guessing 
 his design, provided wiiii much prudence and vigour 
 for the defence of his newly acquired cJominions. He 
 called in his coisairs from their dificrent stations ; drew 
 from Algiers what foixes could be sjjared ; and by re- 
 presenting Muley Hascen as an infamous apostate, 
 leagued with a Christian prince foi- the suljversion of the 
 Mahometan faith, he instigated the ignorant and bigot- 
 ed Arabian chiefs to arm as in a common cau.^e. But 
 all his activity was unavailing. The army of Charles, 
 composed of Germans, Italians, and Spaniards, inflamed 
 with equal religious zeal against the infidels, were still 
 farther excited by the ardour of national emulation. 
 They quickly reduced the strong fort of Goletta, whicli 
 commands the bay of Tunis ; and as the walls of the 
 city were extensive and extremely weak, and the fidelity 
 of the inhabitants doubtful, Hayradin determined to ad- 
 vance with his army, consisting of 50,000 men, towards 
 the Imperial camp, and decide by one great battle the 
 fate of his kingdom. At that time he had 10,000 Chris- 
 tian slaves shut up in the ciuidel ; and fearing lest dur- 
 ing his absence they should rise in mutiny, he proposed 
 to massacre them all before he set out on his march. 
 His officers, inured as they were to cruelty and blood- 
 shed, heard this proposal with horror ; and Barbarossa, 
 influenced more by the fear of irritating them, than by 
 any motive of compassion, consented to spare the lives 
 of the captives. 
 
 The hostile armies soon met, and a furious conflict 
 ensued. The Moors and Arabs, though vastly supe- 
 rior in number, could not long withstand the disciplined 
 courage of the Imperial troops. Barbarossa did all that 
 could be expected from a wise and experienced gene- 
 ral contending for a kingdom and for life ; but liis army 
 was routed in all directions, and he himself was hurried 
 back to the city along with them in their flight. Tunis 
 could no longer afl'ord him shelter. The Turkish sol- 
 diers, alarmed for their safety, were preparing to re- 
 treat; the inhabitants were ready to throw open their 
 gates to the conqueror ; and the citadel, which in such 
 circumstances might still have afforded him some re- 
 fuge, was already in the possession of the Chi istlan 
 slaves. These unfortunate men, seizing the opportunity 
 of Hayradin's absence, had gained over two of their 
 keepers ; and, knocking off" their fetters by their assist- 
 ance, burst open their prisons, overpowered the Turkish 
 garrisons, and turned against their oppressors the artil- 
 lery of the fort. Mortified and enraged at finding his 
 affairs m this situation, exclaiming sometimes against 
 the mistaken compassion of his officers, and sometimes 
 condemning his own facility in listening to their remon- 
 strances, Barbarossa fled with precipitation to Bona. The 
 authority of Charles could not restrain the violence and 
 rapacity of his soldiers. Rushing without orders into 
 the town, they began to kill and plunder without distinc- 
 tion, and committed every enormity which hostile fury, 
 inflamed by religious hatred, could suggest. On that 
 dreadful day, not fewer than 30,000 of the inhabitants 
 were massacred, and 10,000 carried away as slaves. 
 Amidst the deep regret which Charles felt for an acci- 
 dent, which sullied the honour of victory, one circum- 
 stance alone consoled and delighted him. The Chris- 
 tian slaves, who had recovered their liberty, many of 
 30
 
 474 
 
 ALGIERS, 
 
 them persons ol higli distinciion, went out to meet him 
 us lieapproiiclieil the town ; and lulling upon their knees 
 before him, thanked and blessed him as their deliverer. 
 Havmg thus reinstated Muley Hascen in the sove- 
 reignty oi Tunis, the emperor concluded a treaty on the 
 following conditions: — That he should hold the king- 
 dom of Tunis in foe of the crown of Spain, and do 
 homage to the emperor as his iiege lord ; that all the 
 Christian slaves now within his dominions, of whatever 
 nation, should be set at liberty without ransom ; that none 
 of the emperor's subjects should in future be detained 
 in servitude ; that no Turkish corsair should be admit- 
 ted into the ports of Tunis; that free trade, with the 
 exercise of the Christian religion, should be allowed to 
 all the emperor's subjects; that the emperor should 
 retain the Goletta, and that all the other fortified sea- 
 poi ts in the kingdom should be put into his hands ; that 
 Mulcy Hascen should pay annually 12,000 crowns for 
 the mair.tcnance of the Spanish garrison in the Goletta; 
 that he should enter into no alliance with any of the 
 emperor's enemies, and should present to him every 
 year, as an acknowledgment of his vassalage, six Moor- 
 ish horses, and as many hawks. After these transactions, 
 by which Charles attained a greater height of glory than 
 by any other event of his reign, he embarked again for 
 Europi., (August 7th,) as the tempestuous weatlicr and 
 the sickness of his tioops prevented him from pursuing 
 Burbarossa. 
 
 A few years after, Charles undertook another expe- 
 dition against Barbary, in which he was by no means 
 eciually successlul. When Hayradin, by his vigorous 
 and judicious exertions, had so much hicreased the 
 strength of Algiers, the Sultan Solyman, either from 
 gratitude or jealousy, raised him to the dignity of a 
 bashaw of the empire, and appointed Hassan Aga, a 
 Sardinian renegado, a bold and experienced officer, to 
 succeed him in th.e vicc-rcyalty of Algiers. Hassan im- 
 mediately began to ravage the coast of Spain with great 
 fury ; extending his depredations likewise to the eccle- 
 siastical state, and other parts of Italy. His cruel pi- 
 racies roused the resentment of Pope Paul HI. and of 
 ' the emperor Charles V., who concerted an enterprise 
 against this infidel robber. A bull was published by his 
 holiness, promising plenary absolution of sins, and the 
 crown of martyrdom to all who should perish in battle 
 on the coasts of Barbary, or be made slaves ; and the 
 emperor sailed with a fleet consisting of 120 ships, and 
 20 galleys, having on board an army of 30,000 men, with 
 an immense quantity of money, provisions, ammunition, 
 and arms. Many of the Spanish and Italian nobility 
 accompanied their monarch in this expedition, eager to 
 share in the glory whic. they were confident he wasito 
 acquire ; a hundred knights of Malta, who had always 
 distinguished themselves for their zeal against the ene- 
 mies of the cross, embarked in this sacred cause with 
 1000 chosen followers; and so high were the expecta- 
 tions formed of this enterprise, that even ladies of rank 
 and character, and the wives and daughters of the offi- 
 cers and soldiers, braved the perils of the sea, with a 
 view of settling in Barbary after the conquest was com- 
 pleted. After a tedious and hazardous voyage from 
 Majorca, the fleet appeared before the African coast ; 
 but the roll of the sea and the violence of the winds 
 prevented the troops from disembarking. At length, 
 Charles Seizing a favourable opportunity, landed them 
 without opposition, not far from Algiers, towards which 
 he advanced without delav. 
 
 The Algerines were thrown into the utmost conster- 
 nation when they beheld such an immense armament, 
 and saw a mighty army already moving towards their 
 city. A wall with scarce any outworks was all its ex- 
 ternal defence. The greater part of their forces were 
 dispersed in the different provinces of the kingdom, to 
 levy the usual contributions from the Arabs and Moors ; 
 and in the garrison, there were only 800 Turks, and 
 6000 Moorish soldiers, poorly disciplined, and worse 
 accoutred. Charles, after building a fort, under the 
 cannon of which his army encamped, and diverting the 
 course of a sprhig, which supplied the city with water, 
 summoned Hassan to surrender at discretion ; and 
 threatened, in case of his refusal, to put all the garrison 
 to the sword. To this stunmons Hassan returned a bold 
 and haughty answer ; but with such a slender force, he 
 must soon have been forced to yield to the imperial 
 troops, superior even to those which had defeated Bar- 
 baiossa at the head of 60,000 men. The dowan, or senate 
 of the Algerines, began therefore to consult about the 
 most proper means of obtaining an honourable capitula- 
 tion ; but in the midst of their deliberations, a frantic 
 prophet rushed into the assembly, exhorting them to 
 defend themselves without dismay, and foretelling, that 
 before the end of the moon, the Spaniards should be 
 completely destroyed. The prediction seems to have 
 been inspired by heaven ; for it was scarcely uttered, 
 when the clouds began to gather, and the sky assumed 
 a troubled and threatening aspect. A tremendous storm 
 of wind, and rain, and hall, arose from the north ; vio- 
 lent earthquakes agitated the ground ; and deep and 
 dismal darkness involved both the land and the sea. The 
 soldiers, who had brought nothing ashore but their arms, 
 remained during the night exposed to all the fury of the 
 tempest, without shelter or covering of any kind. Their 
 camp was overflowed by torrents which poured from 
 the neighbouring hills, and at every step they sunk to 
 the ankles in mud ; while, to prevent their bfeing driven 
 over by the impetuosity of the wind, they were obliged 
 to fix their spears in the ground, and to support them- 
 selves by taking hold of them. In this distressing situ- 
 ation Hassan did not allow them to remain unmolested. 
 Sallying out about the break of day with fresh and vigo- 
 rous troops, who had been screened from the storm, he 
 fell on a body of Italians stationed nearest the city, who, 
 dispirited and benumbed with cold, fled at his first ap- 
 proach. The troops who occupied the post behind them 
 attempted to resist; but their matches were extinguish- 
 ed, their powder wetted, and having scarce strength 
 sufficient to handle their other arms, tliey were spon 
 overpowered with great slaughter. It was not till the 
 whole imperial army, with Charles himself at their 
 head, advanced to oppose him, that Hassan thought pro- 
 per to withdraw, preserving the greatest order in his 
 retreat. •■ • 
 
 The return of day-light presented to Charles a* stUl 
 more dreadful and affecting scene. The hurricane stiU 
 raged with unabated violence ; and the ships, on which 
 the safety and subsistence of the army depended, were 
 driven from their anchors ; some dashing against each 
 other and sinking amidst the waves, and many forced 
 ashore, and beaten in pieces against the rocks. On 
 that fatal day, 15 ships of war and 150 transports were 
 lost; 8000 men were drowned, and those who escaped 
 the fury of the sea, were massacred as they reached the 
 land by the relentless Arabs. Charles stood on the shore 
 contemplating in silent anguish this awful event, which
 
 ALGIERS. 
 
 475 
 
 t 
 
 blasted at once all his Iwpcs of success, and lamcntiiiij 
 the fate of those unliappy men to whom he could afford 
 no relief The storm at lengtli began to subside, and 
 hopes were entertained, that as niiny ships might still 
 escape as would be sufficient to afford subsistence to 
 the army, and transport it back to Europe. But the 
 approach of night again involved the sea in darkness 
 and horror; and as the officers on board the surviving 
 ships could not convey any intelligence to their compa- 
 nions on shore, they remained during the night in all 
 the anguish of suspense. Their distress and perplex- 
 ity was not much alleviated by the intelligence wliich 
 Doria sent to them next morning ; that having weather- 
 ed out the storm, he found it necessary to remove with 
 his sliattered vessels to Mctaluz, to which, as the sky 
 appeared still lowering and tempestuous, he advised 
 Charles to march with all speed, as the troops might 
 there embark with greater ease. Metafuz was at least 
 three days' march from the imperial camp; and the sol- 
 diers, destitute of provisions, worn out with fatigue, 
 and dispirited by hardships, were in no condition for 
 encountering new toils. But their situation afforded no 
 time for deliberation. They instantly began their march, 
 placing the wounded, the sick and the feeble, in the 
 centre, while such as appeared more vigorous, were 
 stationed in the front and rear. So much were they 
 exhausted by their late sufferings, tliat many of them 
 could scarcely sustain the weight of their arms ; some 
 sunk \mder the toil of marching through deep and al- 
 most impassable roads ; numbers perished through fa- 
 mine ; others were drowned in attempting to cross 
 the brooks swoln by the late excessive rains ; and many 
 were killed by the enemy, who harassed and annoyed 
 them both night and day, during the greater part of 
 their retreat. Nor did their calamities end here ; for 
 scarcely had they reembarked, when another storm 
 arose, which scattered the fleet, and obliged them sepa- 
 rately to make towards such ports in Spain or Italy as 
 they could first reach. The emperor himself, after es- 
 caping many dangers, was obliged to take refuge in the 
 harbour of Bujeyah, where he was detained several 
 weeks : at length when the weather became less tem- 
 pestuous, he set sail again for Spain, where he arrived 
 in a condition very different from that in which he had 
 returned from his former expedition to Barbary. 
 
 Hassan, elated by his success, which he could scarcely 
 fail to ascribe to the immediate interpositon of heaven, 
 undertook an expedition against Muley Hammid, king 
 of Tremecen, who was compelled to purchase peace, 
 by paying him a large sum of money, and becoming his 
 tributary. Soon after this, the bashaw was seized with 
 a fever, of which he died in the 66th year of his age. 
 He was succeeded by Haji, who, though much respect- 
 ed by the Algerines, was immediately compelled to re- 
 sign his dignity to Hassan, the son of Hayradin Barba- 
 rossa, Hassan engaged in various enterprises against 
 Tremecen, which he at length reduced and plundered. 
 After this he enjoyed an interval of peace, which he 
 employed in erecting several public edifices, and in 
 performing other useful actions ; thus rendering his 
 government popular, and his removal regretted. Salha 
 Rais, his successor, was the first Arab that ever was 
 raised to the government of Algiers. During the reign 
 of this bashaw, who was steady in his resolution, and 
 successful in all his enterprises, the Spaniards were 
 driven out of Bujeyah, and from that time have never 
 beei) able materially to injure the Algerines. Imme- 
 
 diately after the death of Salha Rais, a Corsican renc- 
 gado, named Hassan Corso, was elected by the soldiery 
 in his room, till they should receive further ouU-rs from 
 the porte. Corso accepted, with reluctance, of the dig- 
 nity, which he did not long enjoy ; for, in lour months 
 after his election, intelligence was brought to Algiers, 
 that the sultan had appointed a new bashaw, one Tc- 
 kelli, a principal Turk in his court, who was now ap- 
 proaching the city with eight galleys. The Algerines 
 resolved to oppose him, but he was at last admitted 
 through the treachery of the Levantine soldiers ; and 
 though Corso was the first to welcome him, and peace- 
 ably surrendered his dignity, the infamous tyrant con- 
 demned him to be thrown over a wall, in which iron 
 hooks were fixed, on which he hung for three days in 
 exc]uisite torture. 
 
 The cruelty of Tekelli's reign, was such as might be 
 expected from the odious deed with which it com- 
 menced. One of his first victims was Alisardo, gover- 
 nor of Bujeyah, who being supposed to possess immense 
 riches, was seized by the bashaw, and after being tor- 
 tured by burning and scarifying, to force from him a dis- 
 covery of his wealth, was ordered to be impaled alive. 
 Such atrocities could not be long endured ; the monster 
 incurred general detestation, and was assassinated even 
 under the dome of a saint, by Yusef Calabres, governor 
 of Tremecen, who had been the favourite renegado of 
 Hassan Corso. The Algerines received Yusef with 
 universal acclamation, and immediately elected him ba- 
 shaw ; but six days after he died of a plague, deeply re- 
 gretted by his new subjects, who buried him in the 
 same grave with the unfortunate Hassan Corso. 
 
 Hassan, the son of Hayradin, who had formerly been 
 superseded in the vice-royalty by Salha Rais, had now 
 the good fortune to be restored to that dignity. He had 
 no sooner arrived, than he engaged in an enterprise 
 against Tremecen, in which he was defeated with great 
 loss. Next year the Spaniards undertook an expedition 
 against Mostagan, in which they were defeated with 
 prodigious slaughter; their commander, the count d'Al- 
 candela, slain, and 12,000 men taken prisoners. Hassan 
 returned to Algiers, exulting in his victory, and laden 
 with spoils ; and soon after marched against Abdalazis, 
 prince of the Beni Abbas, a race of mountaineers, who 
 had discontinued their usual tribute to the Algerine 
 government. The death of Abdalazis, who was shot 
 by a musket ball, soon terminated this war, and obliged 
 the mountaineers to submit to the usual exactions. Has- 
 san had married a daughter of the king of Cuco, whose 
 subjects he permitted to purchase ammunition at Al- 
 giers; a traffic which gave so much offence to the Jani- 
 zjiries, that they seized on Hassan with some of his 
 officers, and sent them in irons to Constantinople. Tliey 
 vindicated themselves to the full satisfaction of the 
 Porte; but a new bashaw, named Achmet, was appoint- 
 ed, a man of insatiable avarice, who purchased his new 
 dignity with the money which he had amassed while 
 head gardener to the sultan. He died in four months 
 after his appointment, and Algiers was governed other 
 four months by his lieutenant; after which, Hassan was 
 once more reinstated in the vice-royalty, and was re- 
 ceived by the Algerines with such joy, that even the 
 women appeared on the terraces and balconies to give 
 him welcome. 
 
 Immediately after his restoration, Hassan collected a 
 powerful fleet and army, for the purpose of besieging f 
 Marsa-al-Quibber; after reducing which, he intended 
 3 O 3
 
 476 
 
 ALtllEUS. 
 
 to invest the city of Warran, or Oran. This place was 
 conimaiKled by Don IVlasten dc Cordova, brollier of the 
 late count d'Alcandela, who had been taken prisoner in 
 the same battle in which the count fell, but had pur- 
 chased his liberty by an immense ransom. He made a 
 most gallant defence against the Turks, who attacked 
 the city with the utmost fury both by sea and land. 
 Several breaches were made in the walls, on which the 
 Turkish standards were repeatedly planted, but as often 
 dislodged. The place, however must have surrendered 
 at last, had not the approach of Doria, who was advan- 
 cing with a powerful succour of Italian troops, obliged 
 Hassan to raise the siege. Doria, disappointed on his 
 arrival by the departure of the Algerine galleys, bore 
 away for Pcnnou de Velez, where he was shamefully 
 repulsed by a handful of Turks who garrisoned the place. 
 Hassan was again recalled in 15 67, and three years after 
 died at Constantinople, in the 50th year of his age. 
 
 Mahamed, the son of Salha Rais, was next appointed 
 by the sultan to the government of the Algerines, whose 
 affections he conciliated by his zeal to promote their in- 
 terests. By incorporating the Janizaries with the Le- 
 vantine Turks, he put an end to their dissensions, and 
 added so much to the strength of the x\lgeririe army, 
 that they soon after were enabled to assert their inde- 
 pendency on the grand signior. To render Algiers im- 
 pregnable, he increased and strengthened its fortifica- 
 tions. While Mahamed was thus advancing the inte- 
 rests of Algiers, an adventurous Spaniard, named John 
 Gascon, formed a scheme for burning the whole navy 
 by night, while the pirates lay defenceless, and in their 
 first sleep. His scheme was approved of by Philip H., 
 who furnished him with proper vessels and fireworks 
 for its execution. He sailed for Algiers in the begin- 
 ning of October, when most of the ships were moored 
 in the harbour; and having observed their manner of 
 riding, he advanced unperceived to the mole-gate, and 
 dispersed his men with their combustibles. These, 
 however, were so ill mixed, that all their art could not 
 make them take fire; tlic bustle and confusion, which 
 this circumstance occasioned, alarmed the guard on the 
 adjacent bastion, and the whole garrison was instantly 
 in commotion. Gascon perceiving his danger, sailed 
 away with the utmost haste ; but he was quickly over- 
 taken, and brought prisoner to Mahamed, who caused a 
 high gibbet to lie erected on the spot where the Spa- 
 niards had landed, from which Gascon was suspended 
 on a hook by the feet. He had not hung long, when 
 Mahamed, moved by the intercession of his corsairs, 
 ordered him Lb be taken down ; but the Moors, offended 
 by this IcnJLy, hinted that it was boasted in Spain, that 
 the Algerincs durst not touch a hair of Gascon's head, 
 on which the unhappy Spaniard was hoisted by a pulley 
 above the execution wall, and thrown down upon the 
 rhinhun or hook, which caused his instant death. 
 
 Mahamed, being soon after recalled, was succeeded 
 by Ochali, a famous rcnegado, who reduced the king- 
 dom of Tunis, which remained subject to the viceroy of 
 Algiers till the year 1586, when a bashaw of Tunis was 
 appointed by the grand signior. 
 
 From this period, we meet with nothing interesting 
 in the history of Algiers, till the beginning of the 17th 
 century, when the Algerincs remonstrated in such 
 strong terms to the Porte of the oppression of his vice- 
 roys, that they obtained permission in future to choose 
 their own governors, whom they denominated Deys. 
 They engaged, however, still to acknowledge the grand 
 
 signio" as tlieir sovereign ; to pay him the usual tribute ; 
 to assist him, on all occasions, with their army and their 
 ileet; and even to pay due respect to his bashaws, and 
 to maintain them in a manner suited to their dignity, 
 provided they did not interfere in the government, 
 which was to be connnitted solely to the dey and his 
 dowan. When these proposals were agreed to by the 
 sultan, the great dowan inuuediately assembled to elect 
 a dey from their own number, and to frame a body of 
 laws for the maintenance and regulation of their new 
 government. The altercations which frecpiently arose 
 between the bashaws and the deys, the former endea- 
 vouring to recover their power, and the latter to abridge 
 it still further, occasioned so many complaints to the 
 Ottoman court, as made it sincerely regret its present 
 compliance with the remonstrance and petition of the 
 Algerincs. 
 
 While the Algerincs were proceeding with these in- 
 ternal arrangements, the famous Doria, with a body of 
 Spaniards under his command, made another attempt 
 upon their capital, which, as usual, was rendered unsuc- 
 cessful by adverse winds. To guard against these re- 
 peated descents, they applied themselves with such 
 vigour to the improvement of their navy, that in the 
 year 1616, they possessed 40 sail of ships, between 200 
 and 400 tons. These wefe divided into two squadrons, 
 one of 1 8 sail stationed off the port of Malaga, and the 
 other at the Cape of Santa Maria, between Lisbon and 
 Seville, where they attacked all Christian ships without 
 distinction, and rendered themselves formidable to all 
 the maritime powers of Europe. 
 
 The outrages of these lawless pirates were first re- 
 sented by the French, who (A. D. 1617) sent M. Bea\i- 
 lieu against them with a fleet of 50 sail. Beaulieu dis- 
 persed their fleet, took two of their ships, while the ad- 
 miral, with desperate resolution, sunk his own vessel 
 and crew rather than fall into the enemy's hands. 
 
 Three years after, a squadron of English men of war 
 was sent into the Mediterranean under the command of 
 sir Robert Mansel ; but after an unsuccessful attempt 
 to set fire to the shipping in the harbour of Algiers, the 
 squadron returned without doing any material damage, 
 and the Algerincs became so insolent that they openly 
 defied all the powers of Europe except the Dutch. In 
 the year 1625, they sent a proposal to the prince of 
 Orange, that if he would fit out 20 ships of war to be 
 employed against the Spaniards, they would join theni 
 with 60. The Dutch, however, unwilling to be connec- 
 ted with such infamous allies, rejected their proposal. 
 
 Next year the Cologlis seized upon the citadel of Al- 
 giers, and had well nigh made themselves masters of 
 the state ; but the Turks and renegadoes at length de- 
 feated them with great slaughter. Of those who sur- 
 vived, many were butchered in cold blood, and their 
 heads thrown in heaps upon the city wall without the 
 eastern gate. About two years after this event, the 
 state of Algiers underwent a memorable change, which 
 enabled it soon to shake off the Ottoman yoke, and be- 
 come an independent government under its own deys. 
 The cause of this revolution was a truce of 25 years, 
 which the sultan Amurath IV. had concluded with the 
 emperor Ferdinand II. This truce was universally re- 
 probated by the corsairs of Barbary, whose piracies it 
 tended to check ; and by none more than the Algerines, 
 rendered opulent and haughty by their depredations 
 against the Christians. They resolved, therefore, to 
 declare themselves an independent state, wholly uncon-
 
 ALCIIMIS. 
 
 477 
 
 ccrned in any treaty into which the Porte miglit enter 
 with any Christian power. No sooner was this resolu- 
 tion lorniccl, than they began to make prizes ot several 
 ships belonging to nations then at peace with the Otto- 
 man Porte, some of which they pursued even to Rliodes. 
 So far, indeed, did their audacity proceed, that, havii\g 
 seized a Dutch ship and poleacre at Scandcrooii, they 
 ventured on shore, plundered the magazines and ware- 
 houses, and then set them on fire. Though the Porte 
 resented these depredations as an open defiance ot its 
 authority, it was then too much occupied bv the Persian 
 war, to be able to check them; and the vizier and cour- 
 tiers compounded with the Algerincs for a share of the 
 spoils. 
 
 For many years the piracies of these corsairs conti- 
 nued the terror and the shame of the Christian powers. 
 At length, in the year 1632, a French fleet being driven 
 by accident into the bay of Algiers, the admiral de- 
 manded the release of all the prisoners of his nation, 
 without any exception. When his demand was refused, 
 he carried off, without ceremony, the Turkish bashaw, 
 and his cadi, who had just arrived from Constantinople, 
 with all their equipage and retinue. The Algerines, in 
 revenge attacked a French fort lately erected by Louis 
 XIII. called the Bastion of France, and carried off the 
 inhabitants, with all their effects ; an outrage which so 
 provoked the French admiral, that he threatened to pay 
 them a visit next year. 
 
 Undismayed by this menace, the Algerines fitted out 
 a fleet of ! 6 galleys, well manned and equipped, destined 
 to seize the treasure of Loretto. Prevented by adverse 
 winds from accomplishing their design, they made a 
 descent upon Puglia, in the kingdom of Naples, ravaged 
 the territory of Nocotra, and then, steering towards Dal- 
 matia, scoured the Adriatic, leaving the inhabitants of 
 the coasts in the utmost consternation. 
 
 Provoked by these outrages, the Venetians sent out a 
 fleet of 28 sail, under the command of admiral Capello, 
 with orders to take, sink, or burn, all the Barbary cor- 
 sairs, wherever he found them. Capello soon came up 
 with the Algerine fleet, which, after an obstinate con- 
 flict, he entirely defeated ; but a ball from one of the 
 Venetian galleys having struck a Turkish mosque, the 
 whole action was considered as an insult upon the grand 
 signior. Capello was recalled, and the Venetians were 
 obliged to purchase peace of the Porte with the sum of 
 500,000 ducats. Algiers was filled with consternation 
 at the news of this defeat; but they repaired their loss 
 with amazing activity, and were soon able to appear at 
 sea with a fleet of 65 sail. 
 
 A squadron consisting of five galleys and two bri- 
 gantines, commanded by the Algerine admiral Pin- 
 chinin, was defeated by a Dutch merchantman of 28 
 guns, after a fierce engagement, in which the Dutch 
 displayed uncommon valour ; but the rest of the fleet 
 returned to Algiers, crowded with captives, and laden 
 with an immense quantity of spoils. Such was the gen- 
 eral terror which these corsairs excited, that the English, 
 B'rench, and Dutch, were glad to obtain peace from 
 them even on very degrading terms ; while against the 
 Spaniards, Portuguese, and Italians, the inveterate ene- 
 mies of the Mahometan faith, they vowed eternal war. 
 The outrages which they committed on the French 
 coast, at last provoked Louis XIV. to send out a strong 
 ■fleet against them, under the command of the Marquis 
 du Quesne, vice-admiral of France. Du Quesne sailed 
 to Algiers in August 1682, and bombarded it with such 
 
 fury, that the whole city was soon in flames, and the ter- 
 rified inliabitants were preparing to leave it, w hen the 
 wind suddenly veering about, (obliged the admiral to re- 
 turn to Toulon. The Algerines, in revenge for this 
 outrage, immediately sent to the coast of Provence a 
 number of galleys and galliots, which committed dread- 
 ful ravages, and carried otV a great number of euptives. 
 A new arnjument was fitted out at Marseilles and 
 Toulon ; and the Algei-incs, informed of these prepara- 
 tions, repaired their walls, and fortified their capital, to 
 be ready for the expected assault. The squadron of Du 
 Quesne appeared before Algiers in the beginning of the 
 following summer, and bombarded it with such acti- 
 vity, and with such dreadful execution, that the Dey 
 and Bashaw immediately sued for peace. An imme- 
 diate surrender of all the French captives was insisted 
 upon as a preliminary ; but a delay in the execution of 
 that condition occasioned a renewal of hostilities. In 
 less than three days most of the city was reduced to 
 ashes, and the flame was so violent as to illumine the sea 
 for several leagues around. The distress of this scene 
 served only to inspire the Algerine commander with 
 frantic rage. Not content with butchering all the 
 French in the city, he ordered their consul to be fasten- 
 ed alive to the mouth of a cannon, whence he was shot 
 away against their navy. By such unheard of atrocity, 
 the French admiral was so much exasperated, that he 
 did not leave Algiers till he had destroyed all its forti- 
 fications and shipping, and rendered the city almost a 
 heap of ruins. This disaster so completely humbled 
 the Algerines, that they immediately sent an ennbassy 
 to France, begging for peace in the most abject terms, 
 and supplicating pardon for the murder of the consul, 
 which they attributed to the ungovernable rage of the 
 populace. Their request was granted, and from that 
 time they began to pay more regard to other nations, 
 and to be more cautious of incurring their displeasure. 
 In 1686 they entered into a treaty with England on terms 
 highly advantageous to that country. The treaty was 
 renewed at dift'erent times ; but it was not till the En- 
 glish obtained possession of Gibraltar and Port Mahon, 
 that they could compel those perfidious pirates to pay- 
 proper regard to the obligation of treaties. 
 
 In the year 1708, the Algerines wrested the city of 
 Oran from the Spaniards ; but, though they were at great 
 pains to strengthen it by new fortifications, it was re- 
 taken in the year 1737. The expulsion of the Turkish 
 Bashaw in 1710, and the union of his office with that of 
 the Dey, introduced the form of government which now 
 exists at Algiers. 
 
 The government of Algiers is a pure military 
 aristocracy, at the head of which is the Dey, whose au- 
 thority somewhat resembles that of the former Stadt- 
 holders of Holland. The Dey is always chosen out of 
 the army, to every order of which that dignity is open. 
 The tumult and confusion to which this circumstance 
 gives rise, cannot well be conceived by those who live 
 under civilized governments, where hereditary power is 
 transmitted in regular succession. At Algiers, every 
 aspiring soldier, however mean his origin, may consider 
 himself as heir apparent to the throne, to which he mav 
 succeed without any lingering delay, if, when he has 
 plunged his cimitar in the breast of the ruler, he can 
 still trust to its protection. Hence there is, in general, 
 a very rapid succession of deys, scarcely one in ten of 
 whom escapes assassination. But though the office of 
 dey be elective, and held by such a precarious tenure, his
 
 478 
 
 ALGIEIIS. 
 
 authority is as absolute as that of any monarch in the 
 world. A dowan, or council, is appointed indeed, lor 
 the purpose of aiding him in his deliberations, and for 
 directing or controlling him in the exercise of his 
 power. To this council, which at first was composed 
 of seven or eii;ht hundred military oflicers, chosen by 
 the oldest soldiers, it was necessary to submit all aiTairs 
 of importance ; they alone were invested willi the power 
 of framing laws, the execution of which was uitrust- 
 cd to the dcy. It now consists of only thirty yiah 
 bashaws, who are convened, very formally indeed, lor 
 the purpose not of dictating laws, but of consenting 
 to such measures as have been previously concerned 
 between the dey and his favourites; so that in re- 
 ality, the wliole government is vested in one individual. 
 The right of electing the dey belongs to the militia ; 
 and on that occasion, every soldier, however low his 
 rank, is entitled to vote. Hence every election is a scene 
 of tumult and disorder, which not unfrequently termi- 
 nates in serious and bloody contests. When the election 
 is determined, the new dey is saluted with the exclama- 
 tion Alla Barich, "God bless you;" he is invested 
 with the kalian, or regalia ; and the cadi, or chief juage, 
 addresses him in a congratulatory speech, reminding 
 him at the same time ol the duties of his station, and ex- 
 horting him to govern with equity, to respect the pri- 
 vileges of his subjects, and to promote their welfare. 
 The first action ol his reign is generally to cause all the 
 members of the tlowan to be strangled who had opposed 
 his election, and to fill their places with others more 
 devoted to liis service. 
 
 Next in dignity to the dcy is the aga of the Ja- 
 nizaries, always one of the oldest oflicers in the army, 
 who holds his place only two months. During that lime 
 he is intrusted with the keys of the metropolis ; military 
 orders are issued in his name, and the sentence of the 
 dey against any offending soldier can be executed no- 
 where but in the court of his palace. When the short 
 terra of his office has expired, he is succeeded by the 
 chiah, or next senior ofhcer, and is considered as ma- 
 zoul, or superannuated, receives his pay regularly every 
 two months, and is exempted from all further duty. The 
 secretary of state, who registers the public acts, holds 
 the next place to the aga ; and after him are the thirty 
 yiah bashaws, or colonels, who sit next to the aga in 
 the dowan, and in the same gallery. From this class 
 are generally chosen ambassadors to foreign courts, and 
 those emissaries who disperse throughout the realm 
 the orders of the dey. The next rank is occupied by 
 thebolluck bashaws, or eldest captains, 800 in number, 
 who are promoted according to their seniority to the 
 dignity of yiah bashaws. Next to them are 400oldack 
 bashaws or lieutenants, who are raised in their turn to 
 the rank of captains, or promoted according to their 
 abilities to important employments in the state. In this 
 country, military promotion is invariably regulated by 
 seniority ; a single violation of which right would in- 
 fallibly excite an insurrection. 
 
 The whole military strength of Algiers does not ex- 
 ceed 20,000 or 25,000 men, 6000 or 7000 of whom are 
 Turks, and the rest Cologlis or Moors. As the dey pos- 
 sesses a very scanty revenue, arising chiefly from taxes 
 imposed on the provincial Moors, Jews, and Christians, 
 from the monopoly of grain, the ransom of captives, and 
 exactions of presents from foreigners, the pay of the sol- 
 diers is exceedingly small. According to Dr Shaw's 
 
 calculation, tlic whole annual expense of the army would 
 not amount to 200,000 dollars. 
 
 The naval force of this kingdom consists in general 
 of 20 ships, one of which is the property of government, 
 and is assigned to the admiral ; the rest belong to private 
 individuals. The corsairs, though not allowed to inter- 
 fere in the concerns of the slate, are held in high estima- 
 tion. All the oflicers of their vessels must be either 
 Turks or Cologlis ; for the Moors arc not allowed to 
 come upon the quarterdeck, or into the gun-room, unless 
 they are sent for. An eighth part of all their prizes is 
 due to government, the remainder is distributed among 
 the proprietors and ship's company, and even passengers 
 are entitled to a share. 
 
 In a nation of pirates commerce cannot be expected 
 to flourish. As the trade of Algiers is conducted almost 
 solely by tlie corsairs, whose interest it is to be at war 
 with other naval powers, the internal resources of the 
 country are very much neglected. On this account, ver)- 
 few commodities are exported from Algiers, as their 
 oil, wax, hides, pulse, and corn, are barely sufficient for 
 the supply of the country ; although the merchants of 
 Oran have sometimes been known to ship off' from 
 Barbary several thousand tons of grain. Their other 
 exports are ostrich feathers, copper, rugs, silk, ashes, 
 embroidered handkerchiefs, dates, and Clu'istiaii slaves. 
 Manufactures in silk, cotton, wool, and leather, are car- 
 ried on in this country, chiefly by the Spaniards settled in 
 the vicinity of the metropolis. They also manufacture a 
 kind of carpets, which, tliough inferior to those of Turkey 
 in beauty and fineness, are preferred by the people for 
 their cheapness and softness. At Algiers there are 
 looms for velvet, lafFetas, and other wrought silks ; and 
 a coarse sort of linen is manufactured in most parts of 
 the kingdom. The commodities imported by the cor- 
 sairs are chiefly gold and silver stuff's, damasks, cloths, 
 spices, tin, iron, plated brass, lead, quicksilver, cordage, 
 sailcloth, bullets, cochineal, linen, tartar, aium, rice, 
 sugar, soap, cotton raw and spun, copperas, aloes, brazil, 
 logwood, and vermilion. The Algerines, have no ma- 
 terials for ship-building, neither ropes, tar, sailcloth, 
 anchors, nor iron. When they can procure enough of 
 wood to form the main timbers of a ship, they supply the 
 rest by breaking down some old vessels of which they 
 have made prizes. 
 
 In religion, the Algerines agree with the Turks, ex- 
 cept that they have a greater variety of superstitious 
 rites. Though they acknowledge the authority of the 
 Koran, they do not very scrupulously adhere to its doc- 
 trines and precepts. The mufti, or high priest, the 
 grand marabout, or saint, together with the cadi, or chief 
 judge, preside in all matters of religion. 
 
 The administration of justice in Algiers belongs 
 chiefly to the cadi, who commonly receives his edu- 
 cation at Constantinople or Grand Cairo, where the 
 Roman codes and pandects, translated into the Ara- 
 bic language, are taught and explained as in the univer- 
 sities of Europe. He is obliged to attend at the court of 
 justice once or twice a-day, to hear and determine the 
 several suits and complaints that are brought before him. 
 All afi'airs_ of moment, however, are submitted to the 
 dey himself, or m his absence to his principal officers; 
 who, for that purpose, sit constantly in the gate of the 
 palace. Some of the punishments inflicted at Algiers 
 are exceedingly cruel. A Jew or Christian, guilty of 
 any capital crime, is carried without the gates of the
 
 ALGIERS. 
 
 479 
 
 city, unci buriil alive. A Moor or Arab, when capitally 
 convicted, is cither impaled, hung up hy the neck over 
 the battlements of the city, or tiuown down upon hooks 
 lixed in the wall below, where they sonietinRs hang in 
 exquisite torment lor thirty or forty hours. The Turks 
 arc never punished in public, but are sent to the court 
 of the aga, where they are either baslinaded or strang- 
 lea, according to the nature of their crime. Female 
 dennqucnts are sent to some private house of correction ; 
 or, il guilty ol adultery, or any other capital crime, are 
 tied up in a sack, and thrown into the sea. Even the 
 barbarous punishment of sawing asunder is still inflic- 
 ted among the Avestern Moors. Trials are conducted 
 at Aigiers in a very summary manner, and the sentence 
 once pronounced, is followed by immediate execution. 
 Little regard is paid to the quality of the ofl'ender. 
 Trivial transgressions, indeed, may sometimes be ex- 
 piated by a sum of money ; but no atonement can be ac- 
 cepted for a flagrant crime but the punishments which 
 justice awards. 
 
 Tne population of Algiers is composed of several 
 diftcrent nations ; Turks, Moors, Christians, and Jews. 
 The Turks, whu have been established here since the 
 middle of the sixteenth century, hold the highest rank, 
 and possess all the principal offices and employments. 
 No native of Algiers is allowed to aspire to the name 
 and privileges of a Turk ; he alone can claim that dis- 
 tinction, who has been born in the dominions of the 
 Grand Signior, of Mahometan parents, or at least of a 
 Mahometan mother. The high esteem in which these 
 people are held, the honour, the privileges, and ex- 
 emptions which they enjoy, inspire them with such lolty 
 ideas of their own superiority, that the meanest Turk 
 thinks hhnself entitled to despise the most respecta- 
 ble among the Moors, the Christians, or Jews. Pride, 
 indolence, voluptuousness, jealousy, revenge, and ava- 
 i-ice, are the prominent features in their character; 
 though, at the same time, they arc sincere, faithful, and 
 courageous. 
 
 Next in rank and dignity to the Turks, are Cologlis, 
 or Coloris, who are the children of Turks by female 
 Moors. These form a numerous and respectable class, 
 and are considered the most intelligent and cultivated 
 of the inhabitants of Algiers. 
 
 The next division of Algerines consists of the Moors, 
 »mder which general appellation are comprehended, the 
 Moors properly so called ; the Kabyles, or mountaineers, 
 mixed with Berbers, or Brebers, and several Arabian 
 tribes. These Moors are, in general, more active than 
 the Turks, and are fond of commerce and the mechanic 
 arts ; but, in their moral character, they are the most 
 cdioiis and depraved of mankind ; false, revengeful, cow- 
 ardly, fanatical, and avaricious. The Arabs, who inhabit 
 the Algerine dominions, have uniformly kept themselves 
 distinct from the other inhabitants, partly in a state of 
 independence, and partly as tributaries to the dey. 
 They dwell either in the desert, or among inaccessible 
 mountains, divided into clans or families, under the go- 
 vernment of a patriarch, or sheik, who may be consi- 
 dered as their judge, tlieir leader, and inslructcr. These 
 Arabs are distinguished by their love of liberty, and by 
 their pride. 
 
 The number of Jews in Algiers is not considerable, 
 and their situation is particularly abject and miserable. 
 A peculiar dress, of a dark colour, exposes them to no- 
 tice and to insult ; and a Jew, when abused by a Turk 
 or a Moor, would be in danger of immediate death 
 
 if he attempted his own defence. They find it ne- 
 cessary, therefore, to purcliase, by some valuable do- 
 nation, the protection either of some powerful Turk, 
 or an European consul. No Jew is allowed to ac- 
 quire landed property in the kingdom of Algiers, nor 
 even to ride througii the gates or in the streets of the 
 city. 
 
 The Christians in this kingdom, though pretty nu- 
 merous, are only transient residents, and cannot pro- 
 perly be reckoned among the regular inhabitants. 
 Except on the western coast, where Oran and Masal- 
 quivir are occupied by the Spaniards, all the Chris- 
 tians here are slaves, either captured by the corsairs, or 
 induced by wretchedness and penury to enter volun- 
 tarily into a state of slavery. Oran and Masakiuivir 
 are inhabited chiefly by fugitives from Spain, who de- 
 rive a very scanty subsistence from the garrison ; and 
 destitute of trade, agriculture, and manufactures, live 
 in extreme poverty and indolence. Most of those who 
 enter voluntarily into servitude, are deserters from the 
 garrison at Oran, whose number is estimated at 100 an- 
 nually. 
 
 The renegadoes arc Jews or Christians, who, cither 
 from hatred, or dread of their relations, or from motives 
 of interest and ambition, have renounced the faith of 
 their ancestors for the predominant religion of the 
 country. When possessed of talents and activity, 
 these people are as much respected as the Cologlis, and 
 are often advanced to the most honourable and lucra- 
 tive employments. We have seen, in the course of. 
 the history, that several of the Turkish bashaws were 
 renegadoes, who had distinguished themselves by their 
 abilities and their services to government. Of Chris- 
 tian renegadoes the number is proportionably small. 
 The zeal to gain proselytes from Christianity has now 
 ceased ; for by such conversions the proprietors of slaves 
 would lose them, without obtaining the expected ran- 
 som, (it) 
 
 ALGIERS, the capital of the kingdom of Algiers, 
 probably the ancient Icosium, is built on the declivity of 
 a hill in the form of an amphitheatre, presenting, when 
 viewed from the sea, a beautiful and magnificent spec- 
 tacle. It is not more than half a league in circum- 
 ference, yet it contains 120,000 inhabitants, of whom 
 15,000, or 16,000 are Turks; 30,000 Cologlis; 60,000 
 Moors, or Berbers ; and the remainder Jews, Christians, 
 or renegadoes. There is only one street of any consi- 
 derable breadth, which runs through the city from east 
 to west, and contains the shops of the principal mer- 
 chants, and the market for corn, and other commodities. 
 The other streets are so narrow, that two persons can 
 scarcely walk abreast, and the middle part being lower 
 than the sides, is always exceedingly dirty. The roofs 
 of the houses are quite flat, and communicate with each 
 other in such a manner, that a person may walk upon 
 them from one end of a street to the other. These roofs 
 are all whitened, and rising in regular gradation upon 
 the declivity of the hill, appear from sea like the top-sail 
 of a ship. The lower part of the walls is of hewn stone, 
 the upper part of brick ; on the land side they are 30 feet 
 high, and 40 towards the sea ; around them is a fosse 
 or ditch, 20 feet broad, and 7 deep. To supply the 
 want of fresh water in the city, every house is provided 
 with a tank or cistern. The water is conveyed from a 
 spring on a hill by pipes, which terminate in above a 
 hundred fountains, to each of which is fastened a bowl 
 for the use of passengers. Ships take in their water
 
 480 
 
 ALG 
 
 ALG 
 
 ,it ilii- 1 oiiimoii vcsci-voii', which is at Ihe end of tlie 
 mole. Tliis town has five gates, which are open from 
 siiiu'lsc till twilight, and seven ports or castles without 
 the walls, the largest and strongest of which is on the 
 mole wiihovit the s^lc: All of tlicse ports arc well sup- 
 plied M ith cjreat guns. The form of the houses is square, 
 with a square court in the middle, and galleries all 
 ioiuid. They are in general of considerable height, 
 and have very small \\indows, either for the sake ot 
 coolness, or from the l)ad taste of the inhabitants. Al- 
 giers can boast of few magnificent or beautiful edifices. 
 The most considerable are the palace of the dey, and 
 some large mosques, which are by no means remarkable 
 as specimens of elegance or taste. At Algieis, as in 
 the cities of Turkey, tliere are bagnios, or public Ijaths, 
 to which access may l)e procured at a very moderate 
 price. Separate baths are appropriated to the women, 
 which men dare not approach. At meals, the Algerines 
 sit cross-legged round a table aljout four inches high, 
 and use neither knives nor forks. Before they be- 
 gin to eat, every one says, Be iume Allah, in the 
 name of God. When they have done, a slave pours 
 water on their hands as they sit, and then they wash 
 their mouths. Though this city has for several ages 
 braved the greatest powers in Europe, it is said to be 
 incapable of standing a regular siege. It has a commo- 
 dious harbour; the mole of which extends 500 paces in 
 length, from the continent to a small island, on which 
 there is a castle and a powerful battery. E. Long. 2° 12'. 
 N. Eat. Se'^ 49'. 
 
 Shaw's Tru-uels, Bruce's Travels, Relation of Seven 
 Cliristians, i^c. Robertson's History of Charles V. Pitt's 
 Account of the Religion and J\Ianners of the Mahometans, 
 Modern Un. Hist. vol. xiv. 8vo. Chantreaux's Science 
 de I'Histoire, isfc. torn. 2. (X) 
 
 ALGODONALES, the name of a cluster of islands, 
 on the coast of Peru, situated in W.Long. 72° 50', and 
 S. Eat. 21° 56'. (to) 
 
 ALGOL, or Medusa's Head, a fixed star of va- 
 riable magnitude, situated in the constellation Per- 
 seus, and marked /3 in our catalogues. The varia- 
 tions of this star were first observed by Montanai-i. 
 Maraldi examined it in 1693, without perceiving any 
 changes in its brightness; but, in 1694, he found, that 
 it varied in brilliancy, from the second to the fourth 
 magnitude. Flamstead likewise observed similar chan- 
 ges ; but Mr Goodricke, of York, was the first astro- 
 nomer who discovered the period of these variations, 
 which he found to be repeated every 2 days 20 
 hours 48 minutes 56 seconds. From 15 years' obser- 
 vation, M. Wurm foiuid its period to be 2 days 20 
 hours, 48' 58" 7.; and I^a Lande makes it 2d 20'' 49' 2". 
 Mr Pigott observed, that its degree of brightness, 
 when at its minimum, is different in different periods ; 
 ar,d that, at its maximum, it is sometimes brighter 
 than a Perseus, and at other times less brilliant. See 
 Hist, dc TAcad. Par. 1695, p. 74. Mem. Acad. Par. 
 1788. Phil. Trans. 1783, p. 474. Id. 1684, p. 1. 4. 5. 
 287. Id. 1786, p. 194. lifiheinerides de Berlin, 1788, 
 p. 191; 1789, p. 175. Astronomie ■^■iv La Lande, tom. 
 i. § 809. JSfov. Act. Helvet. i. p. 307. Mem. .4cad. 
 Par. 1788, p. 240. Zach. P.Jihem. ii. 210. See also 
 a Memoir by Burkhardt on the Changes of Algol, in the 
 Cofinoissance dcs Tem/is, 1804, p. 411. See Astro- 
 nomy, (ro) 
 
 ALCONQUINS, a savage people of North America, 
 inliabiting a part of Lower Canada, and formerly occu- 
 
 pyhig nearly the whole of the country distinguished by 
 that name. They are originally the same people with 
 the Killistinons, and probably also with the Chippe- 
 ways ; for their language has so close a resemblance 
 to the Killisiinoii and Chippewayas to prove the iden- 
 tity of the nations, at a period of time not very remote. 
 (See a Vocab. of the Killistinon and Chip. Lang, in 
 M'Kenzie's Koi/o^'c, p. 107, and one of the Algonquin 
 and Chippeway in Long's Travels, Append.) At pre- 
 sent, however, they must all be regarded as separate 
 and independent tribes. 
 
 As the Algonquins, like the other uncivilized inhabi- 
 tants of America, have no records, by which the memory 
 of past transactions is preserved, little of their early his- 
 tory is known. For a considerable time, they had no 
 rivals in war, or in the chase. The Iroquois, or Indians 
 of the Five Nations, whose country was separated from 
 theirs by the river St Lawrence, were nominally their 
 allies, but in reality their dependents and tributaries. 
 They followed the Algonquins in their hunting expedi- 
 tions, and were employed in the menial offices of flaying 
 the animals which were killed, preserving their flesh, 
 and dressing their skins. But the Iroquois, having asso- 
 ciated for the purpose of defending themselves against 
 the tribes in their neighbourhood, began to feel their 
 own strength, and to perceive the advantages of the 
 union which they had formed. They had marked also 
 the causes of that superiority, which the Algonquins 
 maintained over the other tribes, and had learned from 
 them the art of conducting themselves with propriety in 
 their warlike excursions: and what they saw and had 
 learned, they quickly turned to the great object of esta- 
 blishing their independence. The jealousy of the Al- 
 gonquuis arose : both nations were employed in hunting, 
 and the Iroquois, whether by tlieir activity or by good 
 fortune, had killed a much greater number of elks than 
 their associates, who, exasperated at their successes, fell 
 upon their young men in the night, and put eveiy one 
 of them to death. This conduct naturally provoked the 
 anger of the Iroquois ; but they dissembled their resent- 
 ment, and waited for a proper opportunity to retaliate, 
 with all the patience and secrecy which distinguish 
 the natives of America, in the execution of their 
 plans of vengeance. They tried their strength upon 
 the inferior tribes, and improved both in courage and 
 in skill. In due lime, their plans being mature, they 
 attacked the Algonquins with invincible fury, and 
 destroyed them with implacable resentment; cutting 
 off their hunting parties, surprising them in their re- 
 treats, and persevering so long in the ardoiu' of revenge, 
 as showed, that they were bent upon the extirpation of 
 the inimical race. And such is the power of united 
 strength, that they very nearly succeeded in the accom- 
 plishment of their design. But the French having in- 
 terfered, put a stop to their ravages. At present, the 
 Algonquins are to be found in small tribes, and their 
 numbers are annually diminishing ; a remark which 
 likewise applies to many other nations of the American 
 continent. 
 
 The manners and customs of this savage people arc 
 nearly the same with those of the other Indians of North 
 America. They live chiefly by hunting and fishing, 
 and of consequence have no fixed place of abode, and 
 are frequently assailed by famine. Their huts are 
 temporary erections, meanly built, and poorly furnished, 
 and nauseous beyond the sufferance of any cultivated 
 people. See the articles Canada and Indians. See
 
 ALII 
 
 ALU 
 
 481 
 
 also Alfitrs dcs Sauvagr.i, par Lafitau, /laasim. Mal- 
 thas on Po/iutation,\o\. i. M'Kenzie's Travels, /lassim ; 
 Long's Travels, Jiassini. Adair's Hist, of yimeric. In- 
 dians, (/i) 
 
 ALGOKAB, a fixed star of the third magnitude, in 
 the right, or eastern wing of tlie constellation Corvus, 
 and marked i' in our catalogues. (71;) 
 
 ALGORITHM, an Arabic word, properly signi- 
 fying the art of computing with facility and accuracy. 
 It is sometimes used to denote the rules of arithmetic, 
 as when we say, the alfforitfim of surds, the algorithm 
 of fractions, Sec. The Spaniards employ it to express 
 the practical part of algebra; but it is most commonly 
 used to signify the principles and notation of any calcu- 
 lus; thus we say, that Euler gave the algorithm of the 
 integral calculus with partial differences, (o) 
 
 ALHAMA, the Artigis of the ancients, a populous 
 town in the province of Granada in Spain, situated on 
 the banks of the Frio, in a delightful and narrow val- 
 ley, flanked with steep, lofty, and rugged mountains. It 
 was once celebrated for its splendid baths, which were 
 embellished by the Moorish kings of Granada, and of 
 which some vestiges still remain. This town was taken 
 from the Moors in 148 1 , after a brave defence, and aban- 
 doned to the pillage of the Christians, who made slaves 
 of 3000 of the inhabitants. Its medicinal waters and 
 warm baths still attract crowds of invalids to Alhama. 
 W. Long. 3° 26'. N. Lat. 36° 57' 30". (0) 
 
 ALHAMBRA, the palace of the Moorish kings, in 
 the city of Granada. It had its name from the red co- 
 lour of the building, the word alhambra signifying a 
 red house. This palace and fortress (for it was most 
 admirably adapted for both) is said to have been begun 
 in 1280 by Muly Mehemed Abdallah, the second Moor- 
 ish king of Granada : it was completed by succeeding 
 kings, each of whom was ambitious of adding to its ex- 
 tent, or its beauty. It crowns the summit of one of the 
 hills, on which the city of Granada is built. It seems to 
 overhang the town, and commands a most delightful 
 prospect of the picturesque and fertile country below, 
 which, in spite of the indolence of the Spaniards, is still 
 a kind of terrestrial paradise. 
 
 The Alhambra is quite unique, both in its architec- 
 ture, and in the nature and disposition of its ornaments. 
 The ascent to it is by a narrow street, called Calle de los 
 Goineles, from a great family among the Moors. This 
 brings you to a massive gate, built by Charles V., through 
 which you enter into the outward enclosure of the al- 
 hambra. You then continue to ascend through a very 
 steep avenue of elms, till you come under the walls of 
 the inner enclosure. The appearance of the alhambra, 
 from this point of view, is that of an old town, exhibit- 
 ing a long range of high battlemented walls, interrupted 
 at regular distances by large lofty square towers. Just 
 before you stands the principal entrance into the castle, 
 which, from its being the place where justice was sum- 
 marily administered, is called the gate of judgment. 
 You pass through it under several arches, (each of 
 which is more than a semicircle, resting upon a small 
 impost, the ends of the bow being brought towards 
 each other, in the form of a horse-shoe ;) the passage 
 then winds through several turns, till it ends in a narrow 
 street, which leads to the great square, or Plaza de los 
 .ilgibes, so named from the cisterns, which undermine 
 it from end to end. 
 
 Advancing from this square through another gate- 
 way, the first object that arrests attention, is the magni- 
 
 VoL I. Part II. 
 
 ficent palace begun by Charles V. This edifice is u 
 perfect square of two hundred Si)anish feet. Three of 
 the fronts are free irom all other Iniiklings; the iourth 
 (that to the north,) is connected with the ancient palace 
 of the Moorish kings. This palace of the emperor ne- 
 ver was finished ; his constant wars, his versatility, and 
 his frequent change of residence, soon made him drop 
 the design of fixing his court within the walls of the 
 alhambra; and this magnificent buikling is falling ias; 
 into ruins, to the regret of all the lovers of the fine arts. 
 It is conceived in the grandest style, and manifests 
 throughout the utmost elegance and chastity oi design. 
 
 Adjoining (to the north,) stands a huge heap of as 
 ugly buildings as can be conceived, all huddled togetherj 
 seemingly without the least intention of formhig one 
 habitation out of them; yet this is the palace of the 
 Moorish kings of Granada; tlie most curious place 
 within that exists in Spain, perhaps in Europe. Swin- 
 burne, who describes this palace with enthusiasm, says, 
 that there is nothing any where else that can convey an 
 idea of it, " except you take it from the decorations of 
 an opera, or the tales of genii." You are admitted into 
 this palace at a plain unornamented dooi , in a corner ; 
 and one cannot help being filled with astonishment, ou 
 being transported all at once into a kind of fairy-land. 
 The Communa, or place of the common baths, whicU 
 first presents itself on entering into this enchanted en- 
 closure, is an oblong square, with a deep bason of clear 
 water in the middle ; two flights of marble steps lead 
 down to the bottom ; on each side is a parterre of flow- 
 ers, and a row of orange trees; round the court runs a 
 peristyle paved with marble ; the arches bear upon very 
 slight pillars, in proportions and style different from all 
 the regular orders of architecture. The ceilings and 
 walls are incrustated with fret-work in stucco, so minute 
 and intricate, that the most patient artist would find it 
 difficult to follow it. The ceilings are gilt or painted, 
 and time has not in the least diminished the freshness 
 of their colours. The lower part of the walls is mosaic, 
 disposed in fantastic knots and festoons. A work so new, 
 and so exquisitely finished, aff"ords the most agreeable 
 sensations, which redouble every step one takes in this 
 magic ground. It baffles all power of description to give 
 an adequate notion of this singular edifice. To form a 
 proper conception of it, one must have seen it, or the 
 imagination must be aided by suitable drawings. We 
 shall therefore barely mention, that the Quarte de los 
 Leones, or Court of the Lions, into which you enter 
 from the Coimntma, surpasses in size and magnificence 
 all the other coiu'ts within the walls of the palace. It has 
 its name from twelve lions placed in the centre, which 
 bear on their backs an enormous bason, out of which a 
 smaller arises. While the pipes were kept in good re- 
 pair, a great volume of water was thrown up, which, 
 falling down into the basons, passed through the lions, 
 and issued out of their mouths into a large reservoii". 
 The court is paved with white marble, and at the extre- 
 mities are two fine mosaic cupolas, painted in gold and 
 azure, and supported by several groups of columns ; 
 the whole is executed with inimitable skill, and with a 
 delicacy of finishing which is perhaps unequalled. 
 
 There are a vast number of other courts and apart- 
 ments, everyone of which has its peculiar beauties; 
 and the whole is laid out with such exquisite taste, as 
 to render the alhambra, when it was in all its glory, the 
 most delightful residence on the face of the earth. The 
 walls, &c. are covered with Arabic inscriptions, fanci-
 
 482 
 
 ALI 
 
 ALI 
 
 fully interwoven with the ornaments. For a particular 
 licscription of the Alhanibra, we refer to Swinburne's 
 Travel:! tliraugit fi/iiiiri, vol. i. p. 267; where drawings 
 are given of llie principal apartments, gates, Sec. ; and, 
 for a more detailed account of the inscriptions, to Bour- 
 goanne's Travels in S/iain, vol. iii. p. 186. The French 
 author, when describing the alhambra, transcribes, in a 
 note, some English verses, written on the wall of one of 
 the apartments. Tlie lines are not very famous cither 
 for orthodoxy or good poetry ; but, as they shew the iili- 
 pression made on the minds of the travellers, we shall 
 transcribe them : — 
 
 " O most indulgent Prophet to mankind. 
 
 If such on earth thy paradise we find, 
 
 Wliat must iTi heaven tliy promised raptures prove. 
 
 Where black^yed houris breathe eternal love '. 
 
 Thy faith, thy doctrine, sure were most divine ; 
 
 And though much water, yet a little wine." 
 
 To which is adcfed this Latin valedictory : — Nis, return 
 heu ! nimis in/elkiuv!, deliciis, mxstum vale dixerunt, 
 T. G. H. S. Angli. Kal. Jan. 1775, die., pro ca/ita urbe 
 Granita, triumfihali." The latter initials may probably 
 stand for Henry Sminburne, who certainly was in Gra- 
 nada in 1775. (§•) 
 
 ALHAZEN, a learned Arabian, who flourished in 
 Spain about the beginning of the twelfth century. No 
 particulars of his life have been transmitted to the pre- 
 sent day. He wrote a treatise on Optics, and another on 
 Astrology; the former of which was published in 1572, 
 in the Thesaurus Ofitices of Risne, and was illustrated 
 by Vitellio, in a work on the same subject, published in 
 1"270. Alhazen was the author of several important dis- 
 coveries respecting vision, refraction, and lenses ; but 
 these will be more properly detailed in the History of 
 Optics. See Priestley's Hist, of ^^ision, Sec. vol. i. p. 17. 
 Hist, des Mathemat. par Montucla, torn. i. p. 577 ; and 
 Smith's Ofttics, \o\.n. Rem. p. 15. (w) 
 
 ALI, the son of Abu Taleb, and the cousin-german 
 and pupil of Mahomet. Ali, by his intrepidity and in- 
 fluence, was of infinite service to Mahomet, in promot- 
 ing the extraordinary project, which he had conceived, 
 of giving a new religion to the Arabs. When the im- 
 postor thought his scheme ripe for execution, he direct- 
 ed Ali, whom he had taken under his protection from 
 his infancy, to prepare an entertainment, and invite to it 
 all the descendants of his grandfather Abdal Motalleb. 
 Mahomet, however, had not an opportunity of disclosing 
 his mind at this meeting, as the company broke tip be- 
 fore he had time to harangue them. Ali therefore in- 
 vited the same party next day; and, as soon as they 
 were assembled, Mahomet thus addressed them : — " I 
 offer you the felicity both of this world, and of that which 
 is to come. God hath commanded me to call you unto 
 him; who, therefore, will be my visir, (or assistant,) 
 and become my brother and tiiy vice-gerent ?" 
 
 None of the company seemed very forward in aspiring 
 to this honourable distinction ; when Ali, starting up, 
 exclaimed with vehemence, " I, O prophet of God, will 
 be thy visir; and I will beat out the teeth, pull out the 
 eyes, rip open the bellies, and cut off the legs, of all 
 who shall dare to oppose thee." Upon this, Mahomet, 
 embracing him, thus addressed the company: — "This 
 is my brother, my deputy, and my successor ; therefore 
 shew yourselves submissive and obedient." This ha- 
 rangue was received by the company as it deserved, with 
 scorn and derision. Nothing, however, could shake the 
 
 attachment of Ali to his friend and protector ; he stood 
 
 by him in all his difficulties, and often exposed himself 
 to the most imminent danger, in order to promote his 
 views. Mahomet, being hard pressed by his inveterate 
 enemies the Koreish, found it expedient to retire to Me- 
 dina, where he had gained many partisans. His enemies, 
 having learned his intention, and dreading the conse- 
 quence of his appearing at the head of a powerful party, 
 came to a determhiation to assassinate him. For this 
 purpose, one man was singled out from every tribe, that 
 the guilt might be equally divided amongst them. Ma- 
 homet, having got notice of their design, which was in- 
 stantly to be carried into execution, prevailed on Ali to 
 wrap himself up in his green cloak, and lie down in his 
 place, till he should have escaped to a sufhcienl dijitance. 
 In this situation, Ali was surrounded by the conspirators, 
 who, looking through the crevice, and seeing Mahomet, 
 as they believed, asleep, waited patiently till they should 
 obtain admittance. When morning came, Ali arose, 
 and the conspirators found, to their infinite mortification, 
 that the object of their resentment had escaped, and 
 that one, with whom they had no quarrel, was left in 
 his place. 
 
 Ali often distinguished himself in single combat with 
 the most renowned champions on the side of the enemy, 
 and always came off victorious. From his acknowledged 
 talents and bravery, and also from his connection with 
 Mahomet, being both his cousin-german and his son-in- 
 law, he naturally looked forward to the succession to the 
 caliphat on the death of the impostor. Abu Beer, how- 
 ever, Mahomet's father-in-law, was preferred to him, 
 chiefly through the influence of Omar. Ali was very 
 much displeased with the election, but was soon re- 
 duced to submission, as the new caliph sent Omar with 
 orders to burn the house, in which Ali and his friends 
 were assembled, unless they concurred with the general 
 sentiment. On the death of Abu Beer, Ali was again 
 excluded, and Omar quietly succeeded, being nominated 
 by the last will of the caliph. On the assassination of 
 Omar, Ali again appeared as a candidate, and was again 
 excluded, through the intrigues of a party, Othman be- 
 ing elected as successor to Omar. It is much to the 
 honour of Ali, that he continued faithful to the several 
 princes, by whose election he had so long been deprived 
 of what he reckoned his birth-right, as he was the near- 
 est male relation of Mahomet. He had now, indeed, 
 seen so much of the turbulence and factious spirit of the 
 leading men of the state, that he was heartily cured of 
 his love of sovereignty ; insomuch, that, when Othman 
 was murdered by his rebellious subjects, and the eyes of 
 all were turned towards Ali as his successor, he declined, 
 with the utmost earnestness, that honour, to which he 
 had formerly so keenly aspired. He was compelled, 
 however, to accept of it, by the entreaties of his friends, 
 and the threats of the people. No sooner had he taken 
 into his hands the reins of government, than he found 
 himself embroiled with his rebellious subjects. Telha 
 and Zobier, in conjunction with Ayesha, Mahomet's 
 favourite wife, rose in open rebellion. This insurrection 
 was soon suppressed ; but Ali found a more formidable 
 enemy in Moawiyah the prefect of Syria, and head of the 
 powerful family of Ommiyah. After several bloody en- 
 gagements, Ali was induced to submit his dispute with 
 Moawiyah to arbitration, when, by a foul trick, he was 
 deprived of his authority, and his competitor declared 
 the lawful caliph. This, however, did not end the dis- 
 pute ; Ali was taking the most effectttal means to reco-
 
 ALl 
 
 ALI 
 
 48; 
 
 vcr his axithoi'ity, when he was assassinated by a fanatic, 
 who, with two others, had made a solemn vow to rid the 
 world of Ali, Moawiyah, and a third competitor, Am- 
 ruelen Al As. The attempt against Ali only was suc- 
 cessful. Thus fell one of the bravest of the followers of 
 Mahomet, after a short reign of four years and nine 
 months. He is reckoned by his followers the Jirst of 
 believers, though it is certain, that both Mahomet's wife 
 and father-in-law were converted before him. 
 
 The sect of Ali is still one of the principal sects 
 amongst the Mahometans. Their distinguishing tenet, 
 is, that Ali and his descendants are the only lawful suc- 
 sessors of Mahomet, and, of course, that all the caliphs, 
 who are not of his family, are usurpers. The Persians, 
 who are of the sect of Ali, maintain his prerogative with 
 as much obstinacy as the Roman Catholics do that of 
 St Peter ; whilst the Turks, who are of the sect of 
 Omar, denounce Ali as an innovator in their religion ; 
 and consider the opinions of his followers as damnable 
 heresy. (§■) 
 
 ALI Bev, the name of an eastern adventurer, who at- 
 tracted for some time considerable attention in Europe, 
 being considered as the founder of a new dynasty in 
 Egypt. In a short time, however, all his projects were 
 overturned, and he is now only to be classed with those 
 rebellious chiefs, who, possessed of more courage than 
 capacity, have often succeeded in usurping a power 
 which their mismanagement soon dissolves. Ali, like 
 the rest of the Mamelucs, was originally a slave. He 
 was born, as is generally supposed, among the Abazans, 
 a people inhabiting Mount Caucasus, and who, next to 
 the Circassians, are held in greatest estimation by the 
 Turks as slaves. Ali was sold at Cairo to two Jews, em- 
 ployed in the custom-house, and by them given in a pre- 
 sent to Ibrahim, a colonel of the Janizaries. Ibrahim 
 was the leading man in Egypt, and had extended his in- 
 fluence chiefly by procuring his domestics to be advanced 
 to situations of trust and importance. At that time no 
 fewer than eight of the twenty -four Beys, amongst whom 
 the government is divided, were of his household. Find- 
 ing Ali every way adapted to his purpose, both from the 
 qualifications of his mind and of his body, he prepared to 
 extend his influence, by adding one more to the number 
 of his dependents. Accordingly, at the age of 18, Ali 
 received his freedom, was advanced to be governor of a 
 district, and at last, through the interest of his patron, 
 was elected one of the twenty-four Beys. On the death 
 of Ibrahim, which happened in 1757, Ali gave full scope 
 to his ambition, and began to plot the destruction of 
 those Beys whose power he chiefly dreaded. His first 
 intrigues proved unsuccessful, and he was obliged to 
 retire into Upper Egypt. After an exile of two years, 
 he returned suddenly to Cairo, and in one night killed 
 four Beys who were his enemies, and banished four 
 others who were obnoxious to him. Not satisfied with 
 the decided pre-eminence which he had now obtained, 
 he openly aspired to the sovereignty of Egypt. Ac- 
 cordingly, he banished the Turkish pacha, and set the 
 authority of the Porte at defiance. He began now to 
 form very extensive projects. He fitted out vessels on 
 the Red Sea, seized on the port of Djedda, and plunder- 
 ed the city of Mecca. Intoxicated with his success, he 
 meditated the conquest of all Syria. He, therefore, 
 joined his forces with Daher, who was in open rebellion 
 against the Porte ; and his troops, in conjunction with 
 those of his new ally, laid siege to Damascus: the city 
 was taken without opposition ; but the castle, which still 
 
 resisted, was saved by the treachery of Mohammed Bey, 
 All's conmiander, who suddenly retreated with all his 
 forces. From this moment there was open war between 
 Ali and Mohammed, and the tide of popularity now turn- 
 ed in favour of the latter. After many rencounters, at- 
 tended with various success, Ali was at last taken pris- 
 oner by Morerad Bey, and by him carried to Mohammed. 
 It is not certain w>hether he died of the wounds he had 
 received in the engagement, or was poisoned by orders 
 of his enemy. 
 
 Ali Bey displayed considerable talents and great in- 
 trepidity ; and had he possessed a little more caution, or 
 a little more address, lie might probably have succeeded 
 in his scheme of erecting Egypt into an independent 
 sovereignty : but he was impetuous, rash, and unsus- 
 picious ; and was ruined by the mistaken confidence 
 which he placed in his faithless adherents. During his 
 administration Egypt enjoyed more security than it is 
 likely to do for a long time to come. He declared war 
 against all plunderers and robbers, and wished to afl'ord 
 every security to the persons and properties of his sub- 
 jects. We ought, therefore, perhaps to regret, that Ali 
 did not succeed in his attempt, and that his eulogium 
 can only be that of the unfortunate Phaeton : 
 
 -Si non tenuit, magnis tamen excidit ausis. 
 
 Some account of Ali Bey may be found in Savary's 
 Volney's and Sonnini's Travels in £gyfit. (^) 
 
 ALIBAMONS, one of the native tribes of Americans, 
 on the river Alibama in Georgia. This tribe is re- 
 markable for their hospitality and frankness. They be- 
 lieve in a future state of existence, resembling the sen- 
 sual paradise of Mahomet. Their dead are buried in a 
 sitting posture, with a pipe and tobacco ; but the bodies 
 of suicides, who are considered as cowards, are thrown 
 into the rivers. As they marry only one wife, they are 
 exceedingly jealous of their honour, though their young 
 women are allowed to trifle with their chastity. This 
 spirit of jealousy induces them to reckon their genealo- 
 gies by the female side. The Alibamons set out in 
 hunting parties, with their families in canoes, about the 
 end of October, and after travelling through a distance of 
 80 or 100 leagues, they return at their seed time in 
 March, loaded with skins and dried flesh. Their diet 
 consists chiefly of toasted maize, and cooked with flesh, 
 which they call Sagamiti. The Alibamons have their magi- 
 cians and little deities, or manitus, and pretend to heal dis- 
 eases by magical incantations. See Pinkerton's Geogra- 
 /i/iy, vol. iii. p. 373. Estalla. vol. xxiii. p. 215. (w) 
 
 ALIBI, a Latin term, signifying elseivhere, employed 
 in the criminal law of this country. A pannel is said to 
 plead an alidi, when he attempts to show that he was in 
 a difterent place at the time when the crime charged 
 upon him was committed, (j) 
 
 ALICANT, the Lucejinim of the ancients, is a sea- 
 port town, in the province of Valencia in Spain. Ali- 
 cant was for a long time only a small village. In 1519, 
 it is said, there were only six houses on the ground on 
 which the city now stands: but in 1562 the number 
 amounted to upwards of a thousand. This prodigious 
 increase was owing to the security which the situation 
 afforded against the depredations of the pirates, who at 
 that time spread terror along all the coasts of the Medi- 
 terranean. The town stands on a narrow neck of land, 
 which runs out into the sea a considerable way: a rocky 
 mountain rises directly behind the town ; and on its sum- 
 mit is the castle, now fortified in the modern stvle. Grejvt 
 3 P 2
 
 484 
 
 ALI 
 
 ALI 
 
 part ot the old fortress was blown up with a fragment of 
 the rock, in the war with the allies, in the reign of queen 
 Anne. The Eni^lish j^arrison refused to capitulate, 
 though the French gave them notice that a mine was 
 ready to be sprung. A well that communicated with 
 the mine gave some vent to the explosion, and prevented 
 the rest of the mountain from being shivered to pieces. 
 Most of the oflicers were blown up, and such of the troops 
 as survived were so stunned, as to be for some time al- 
 most incapable of motion. In latter days, there was a 
 flourishing British factory at Alicant. The chief trade 
 is in wine and barilla : here is produced the famous luno 
 lento, or tent wine. Alicant is 37 miles north-east of 
 Murcia, and "5 south of Valencia. Population, 16,950. 
 W. Long. 0°. 7'. N. Lat. 38° 20'. (.§■) 
 
 ALICATA, the Leocata of the ancients, a town in 
 Sicily, situated on a peninsula, at the mouth of the river 
 Salso, which separates the districts of V^al de Mazara, 
 and Val dc Noto. Though it is defended by walls, by 
 the castle of St Angelo, and by a fortress on the peninsu- 
 la, yet the decayed state of these bulwarks renders them 
 unfit as means of defence. Several Greek MSS. rela- 
 tive to the ancient city of Gela are said to be preserved 
 at Alicata. This town cai'ries on a great trade in corn 
 with Malta. Population 10,000. E. Long. 13° 51'. N. 
 Lat. 57° 6' 44". See Swinburne's Travels in Sicily, vol. 
 iv. p. 39. (o) 
 
 ALICONDA, the name of a tree, which gi-ows in the 
 kingdom of Congo, in Africa. It is the largest tree 
 that exists ; and if we can credit the accounts given by 
 the Portuguese, it is of such a size, that ten men are 
 unable to fathom it, and its fruit is equal to a large gourd. 
 Its bark yields a strong fibre, which makes excellent 
 cordage ; and when beaten and macerated, it forms a 
 kind of cloth, which the natives use for a covering. 
 The pulp of its fruit forms a nutritive pap ; while 
 the rind is used for vessels, which give an aromatic 
 flavour to the water that they contain. In seasons of 
 scarcity, the small leaves of the aliconda are used for 
 food ; and the large ones are employed in the roofing of 
 houses, or in the manufacture of soap. See Modern. 
 U?iiv(rs. His/, vol. xiii. p. 23. [o) 
 
 ALICUD A, anciently Ericusa, one of the Lipari isles, 
 on the northern coast of Sicily. The houses, which oc- 
 cupy only the east and south-east part of the island, are 
 built with pieces of lava, and scarcely admit the light of 
 day. They are situated on the declivity of the mountain, 
 at great elevations, in order to be protected from the at- 
 tacks of the Tunisian and Turkish corsairs ; and appear, 
 from below, like the nests of birds hanging from the 
 cliffs. Though the continuity of the soil of Alicuda is 
 perpetually broken by ledges of rocks and masses of 
 lava ; yet the industry of the inhabitants has rendered 
 these barren tracts so productive, by breaking them with 
 pointed spades, that they produce barley and wheat, equal 
 to what is obtained in any of the jEolian islands. The 
 soil also raises Indian figs, olive trees, and vines, from 
 which a good wine is procured. Though the food of 
 the inhabitants, who do not exceed 500, consists only of 
 barley bread, wild fruits, and sometimes salt fish, yet, 
 from the salubrity and genial temperature of the climate, 
 they are remarkably healthy and cheerful. The island 
 possesses no springs of fresh water ; and when there is 
 a tract of dry weather, the inhabitants are reduced to ex- 
 treme distress. 
 
 The island of Alicuda is completely inaccessible, ex- 
 cept on the east and south-cast coast. In sailing round 
 
 this volcanic island, the traveller is struck with tiie 
 most sublime terror, while he surveys the craggy and 
 precipitous barrier which defends it from the ocean. 
 Every where huge pieces of rock, or immense masses 
 of lava, which time and the dashing of the waves have 
 precipitated from the neighbouring cliffs, raise tlieir rug- 
 ged heads to a great height above the level of the water. 
 The clifl's themselves present an aspect still more 
 threatening and sublime. The deep and dark recesses, 
 excavated in their base by the slow operation of the 
 waves, terminate their concavity above in projecting 
 crags, which, almost suspended in the air, seem to bid 
 defiance to the laws of gravitation. Nor do these over- 
 hanging rocks consist of one solid mass. They are 
 sometimes formed of large globular fragments, loose 
 and unconnected ; and the wild birds, by merely perch- 
 ing upon their top, destroy their tottering equilibiium, 
 and plunge them into the abyss below. The deep and 
 winding ravines ; the rents with which the rocks arc 
 torn asunder ; the frightful peaks and precipices which 
 constantly arrest the eye, and the consolidated streams 
 of lava broken in their course, give an air of horror and 
 sublimity to the stupendous flanks of Alicuda. 
 
 In order to examine the geology of Alicuda, where 
 the sides of the island had been laid bare by the sea, 
 Spallanzani embarked on the eastern coast, and sailing 
 a little to the north, he met with whole rocks, composed 
 of globes of lava, porous, heavy, and blackish in its co- 
 lour, and having petrosilex for its base. It had a little 
 lustre, and a great degree of hardness. It assumed, 
 upon being broken, a conchoidal figure ; it was attracted 
 by the magnet, and emitted sparks under the stroke of 
 steel. It contained little feldspar, but much schorL 
 These globes, which were of different sizes, sometimes 
 a foot in diameter, were never arranged in beds, but al- 
 ways occurred in numerous heaps. About a mile and a 
 half farther north, he perceived lava that was not globu- 
 lar, stretching to a great distance, and falling like a 
 cataract into the sea. Its base is petrosilex, and its frac- 
 ture vitreous. It resembles iron in colour, and is full 
 of schorlaceous crystallizations. A mile farther north, 
 where the coast is less precipitous, appeared insulated 
 masses of porphyry, which do not seem to have been 
 touched by fire. This porphyry has petrosilex for its 
 base. It has the colour of burned brick, and emits 
 sparks under the stroke of steel : it is very compact, 
 and without pores, excepting some cavities on the sur- 
 face, which are lined with crystals. These porphyritic 
 rocks resemble those of Egypt in hardness, polish, and 
 lustre, and contain schorls and quantities of cubic and 
 lamellar feldspar. A little farther on, where the coast 
 again becomes strep, it is covered with tuffa, and lava 
 again appears under the aspect of large currents, having 
 for its base hornstone, light, porous, and penetrable by 
 water. This lava with difficulty emits sparks under the 
 stroke of steel ; and, when broken, feels clayish. It 
 contains much feldspar, placed upon a dark red ground. 
 Spallanzani perceived in the summit of the island, a 
 hollow about half a mile in circuit, whch he supposed 
 to have been a crater, [w) 
 
 As Spallanzani appears to have been very indifferently 
 skilled in mineralogy, it is not easy, from his descrip- 
 tions, to refer the rocks of this island to any of the great 
 fomiations, of which the crust of the globe is composed. 
 It is highly probable, that Alicuda contains no true lava, 
 but is composed of rocks that belong to the newest 
 floetz trap, or second porphyry formations ; or it may
 
 ALI 
 
 ALl 
 
 585 
 
 I 
 
 even contain rocks of both these classes. Tlic stream- 
 like appearance of this pretended lava, is apparently cau- 
 sed by tlic action of the atmosphere on the original 
 strata of porphyry, 8^c. The valuable collection of mi- 
 nerals from the islands in the Mediterranean, now de- 
 posited in the nuiseum of the univei'sity of Edinburgh, 
 will enable ns, when treating of those countries in suc- 
 ceeding articles, to offer new elucidations regarding 
 their supposed volcanic origin and structure. See Voy- 
 ages clans ics clcujc Sici/fs, liar fijiallanzani, torn. iii. chap. 
 18. p. 95. ; torn. iv. p. 95. Voijuge.i dans les J.sles de Li- 
 Jiari,/iar Doloniieit, p. 99. See also Felicuda and Geog- 
 nosy, (r) 
 
 ALIDADE, or Aliiidade, an Arabic name given to 
 the rule which carries a telescope, and moves round the 
 centre of a quadrant. It is also applied to the moveable 
 index which moves along the limb of astronomical and 
 geometrical instruments, (to) 
 
 ALIEN, from Alienus, a foi-eigner, is a person born 
 out of the kingdom, and therefore under the dominion of 
 a foreign power. By the laws of this country, children 
 born m a foreign kingdom, whose fathers are denizens, 
 or natural born subjects at the time of the binhs of 
 their children, are considered as natural born subjects of 
 Great Britain, unless their fathers have been guilty of 
 high treason or felony, or are in the service of a foreign 
 state at war with Great Britain. An alien is incapable, 
 by the Scottish law, of acquiring or succeeding to heri- 
 tage, unless by an act of naturalization passed in parlia- 
 ment, or letters of denization issued by the king. An 
 alien may acquire a right in moveables ; but he is in- 
 capable, even by an act of naturalization, of enjoying the 
 privilege to vote for a member of parliament, or to sit 
 in the house of commons. When the enormities of the 
 French revolution compelled crowds of foreigners to 
 seek for shelter in this hospitaljle island, new laws were 
 enacted concerning aliens ; but as these were merely of 
 a temporary nature, we shall only refer for an account of 
 them to the acts themselves. See 33 Geo. III. cap. 4. ; 
 42 Geo. III. cap. 92.; 43 Geo. III. cap. 155.; and for 
 preceding enactments, see 4 Geo. II. cap. 21. § I. ; 13 
 Geo. III. cap. 21. § 1. See also Bell's Dictionary of the 
 Laiv of Scotland, vol. i. p. 23. {j )• 
 
 * The children of citizens of the United States, though 
 born abroad, are with us entitled to the rights and pri- 
 vileges of natural born citizens. So are the children of 
 naturalized citizens, who were under age at the time of 
 their father's naturalization, provided they reside in the 
 United States. See act of congress of the 1 4th April 
 1802 § 4. The states, with a few exceptions, have 
 adopted the principle of the English common law, by 
 
 ALIENATION, in Jmw, is tliat act by which one 
 person transfers to another his properly in lands, tene- 
 ments, Sec. When tlic transference is made to a reli- 
 gious house, or any other corporation, it is called aliena- 
 tion in mortmain, and requires a license froni the king. 
 The transtcrcnce of the fee-simple of any land, or any 
 other right, is called alienation in fee. See Disi>osrMON> 
 and Law. (_/' ) 
 
 which not only aliens are not permitted to hold real es- 
 tate, but if they take it by deed or conveyance, it is im- 
 mediately forfeited to the state. There is no instance, 
 however, on record that we know of, of an alien's land 
 having been actually confiscated: it would be difficult 
 we think, to carry hito execution this barbarous remnant 
 of the ancient f/rc//Y d'aubaine. A more liberal spirit pre- 
 vails throughout the union, and has for some years been 
 gradually displaying itself by legislative acts in several 
 of the states. In Kentucky a title may be made by des- 
 cent through an alien to real estate ; and in Pennsylvania 
 aliens may even take lands by devise or inheritance; so 
 that the defect of inheritable blood in aliens, which was 
 the foundation of the prohibition of the common law, has 
 been completely cured in these two states. The super- 
 structure nevertheless still subsists ; for an alien cannot 
 take lands by deed or conveyance inter vivos, unless he 
 has established his domicile in the country ; which in 
 Kentucky is evidenced by two years' previous residence, 
 and in Pennsylvania by a solemn declaration in open 
 court of his intention to reside and become a citizen. 
 In New York an alien may easily obtain the right of 
 purchasing and holding lands by an application to the 
 legislature, which is hardly ever refused ; and other 
 states have, by various statutes, more or less mitigated 
 the rigor of the ancient common law, which is hardly 
 ever felt in practice, and ought never to have been ex- 
 tended to this country, where the value of millions of 
 acres of our waste lands depends on the competition of 
 foreigners to purchase them. 
 
 Alien enemies, in time of war, are liable to be laid un- 
 der proper restraints by the President, or even to be 
 sent out of the country. See act of congress of the 6th 
 of July 1798. But alien friends are only subject to the 
 general laws of the land. During our partial hostilities 
 with France, in the years 1798 and 1799, a general alien 
 law was made on the model of the statutes which had 
 been enacted in England some time before ; but although 
 the system was much mitigated from what it is in Great 
 Britain, that law was very luipopular, and has been suf- 
 fered to expire by its own limitation. See Allegiance, 
 
 NATUnALIZATION. DlPONCFAU. 
 
 ALIMENTS. 
 
 i. Aliments are those substances which, being re- 
 ceived into the bodies of organized beings, promote the 
 growth, support the strength, and renew the waste of 
 their systems. They are, in other words, the materials 
 from which the different orders of created beings derive 
 their nourishment. 
 
 All organized beings whatever, animal as well as ve- 
 getable, may ultimately be resolved into a few simple 
 
 elements, of which the principal are carbon, hydrogen, 
 oxygen, nitrogen, lime, sulphur, and phosphorus. Dif- 
 ferent combinations of these elements make up the 
 whole of their material systems. And in the constantly 
 revolving circle of destruction and reproduction, which 
 marks the face of nature, these are the elements which 
 are unceasingly passing and repassing from one order 
 of beings to another ; from vegetables to animals, from
 
 486 
 
 ALIMENTS. 
 
 one animal to another, and from these to the soil and to 
 the aimosplierc, again to be assimilated to the systems 
 of vegetable and animal bodies. 
 
 Thus, all the different alimentary matters, capable of 
 being assimilated by the bodies of animals, are compos- 
 ed of these elements variously combined. 
 
 The general law, liowever, with regard to the nutri- 
 tion of animals, is, that they must derive their food from 
 substances previously organized, or from the immediate 
 products of these, not totally changed, or resolved hito 
 iheir simple elements by a spontaneous or artificial de- 
 composition. 
 
 It is very different with the vegetable tribe ; for al- 
 though the elements of the food of plants be ultimately 
 the same with those which are assimilated by animals, 
 their aliment must be supplied in a state of complete 
 disorganization. 
 
 From the air, the water, and the soil to which they are 
 attached, vegetables may be said to draw the materials 
 of their nourishment, in a raw and unmanufactured 
 state, which they elaborate, combine, and organize into 
 various products now fitted to supply aliment to the in- 
 dividuals of the animal kingdom. The food of plants 
 will, however, more properly come under our consider- 
 ation when treating of vegetable physiology. At pre- 
 sent, our observations, will be confined chiefly to the 
 aliments of man. 
 
 Some animals subsist exclusively on vegetable ali- 
 ments, others are wholly carnivorous, and some derive 
 their food indifferently from animal and vegetable mat- 
 ters. To most animals, however, nature has assigned 
 but a limited range of aliment, when compared to the 
 extensive choice allotted to man. The vegetable and 
 animal kingdom, fruits, grains, roots, and herbs, flesh, 
 fish, and fowl, all contribute to his sustenance. 
 
 Now, when it is recollected, that the elements of these 
 alimentary substances are nearly the same, and that 
 from the varied proportions and different combinations 
 of these elements is produced the almost countless 
 variety of vegetable and animal matters, we are enabled 
 to understand, in a general way, how aliments so diver- 
 sified in structure and sensible qualities become assimi- 
 lated to our own system. 
 
 The food, being previously masticated and combined 
 in the mouth with saliva and air, is received into the 
 stomach, where it is exposed to the action of the gas- 
 tric fluid, a powerful solvent of animal and vegetable 
 matters. Here it is soon reduced to the state of a soft 
 pultaceous mass, having suffered a peculiar solution, de- 
 composition, and new arrangement of its constituent 
 parts, which may be called digestive ; and which, so 
 far from being similar, is always, in the healthy condi- 
 tion of the stomach, opposed to those spontaneous 
 changes which terminate in the acetous and putrefactive 
 fermentations. From the stomach the digested chyme 
 passes into the intestines ; where, subjected to the ac- 
 tion of the bile, the pancreatic and mucous secretions, 
 it undergoes still farther changes ; the result of all 
 ■which is the formation and separation of a bland white 
 milky fluid, the chyle. The chyle is sucked up by numerous 
 vessels, called absorbent lactcals, to whose orifices it is 
 every where exposed in passing through the intestinal 
 canal. Tliese absorbents, after numerous communica- 
 tions, terminate in one common trunk, by which the chyle 
 is at length carried into the blood near the heart. Thus 
 the chyle is mixed with the blood, and subjected to the 
 ar':ion of the heart and arteries. Circulated now through 
 
 the lungs, it undergoes new changes from the respira- 
 tion of the atmosphere ; — it is incorporated witli the 
 common circulating mass, and becomes itself blood, the 
 fountain from which all the other constituent parts of 
 the body are formed and renewed. 
 
 The different processes of digestion, chylification, and 
 assimilation, seem nothing more indeed than particular 
 modes of decomposition and recombination of the con- 
 stituent elements of alimentary matters. Even animal 
 matters, though containing all the proximate principles 
 of our bodies, already formed, must, when assumed as 
 aliments, undergo in these difterent processes the same 
 changes as vegetable food. They must in like manner 
 be dissolved, digested, decomposed, and again combined, 
 that chyle may be formed ; from whicli, in the process of 
 assimilation and nutrition are produced the different 
 animal principles. 
 
 Alimentary substances, then, promote the growth, 
 support the strength, and renew the waste of the sys- 
 tem, in proportion to their digestibility, and to the quan- 
 tity of chyle they are capable of affordmg. The gas- 
 tric fluid of man is capable of digesting a great variety 
 of animal and vegetable matters. And the structure of 
 his body, his instincts, and experience, clearly shew, 
 that he has been destined to derive his aliment from 
 both kingdoms of nature. 
 
 Of these, animal food is the more nutritious ; but it 
 seems at the same time, from its putrescent and stinm- 
 lating nature, not to be suited to form the whole of our 
 daily aliment. And in fact, if long and exclusively used, 
 animal food overheats and stimulates, and at length ex- 
 hausts and debilitates the system which it had at first 
 invigorated and supported. Those accordingly who 
 have lived for any great length of time on a diet com- 
 posed entirely of animal matters, become oppressed, 
 heavy, and indolent; the tone and excitability of their 
 frame are impaired ; they are afflicted with indigestion ; 
 the breathing is hurried on the smallest exercise ; the 
 gums swell and bleed ; the breath is foetid, and the limbs 
 are inactive, stiff, and swollen. 
 
 We recognise in this description, the approach of 
 scurvy, a disease familiar to sailors, to the inhabitants 
 of besieged towns, and in general to all who are 
 wholly deprived of a just proportion of fresh vegetable 
 aliment. 
 
 On the other hand, vegetables are acescent, and less 
 stimulating ; they are also less nourishing, and of more 
 difficult assimilation than food derived from the animal 
 kingdom. Hence it is, perhaps, that nature has provid- 
 ed a greater extent of digestive organs for animals whol- 
 ly herbivorous. A diet, however, entirely vegetable, 
 seems insufficient to raise the human system to all the 
 strength and vigour of which it is susceptible. Flatu- 
 lence and acidity of the stomach, muscular and nervous 
 debility, and a long train of hysterical and hypochon- 
 driacal disorders, are not unfrequently the consequence 
 of this too sparing diet. 
 
 Some eastern nations indeed, and thousands of in- 
 dividuals of eyeiy nation, live almost entirely on vege- 
 table aliment. But these, it is remarked, are seldom 
 so robust, so active, or so brave, as men who live on a 
 mixed diet of animal and vegetable food. Few at least 
 in these countries of Europe can be sufficiently nourish- 
 ed by vegetable diet alone : and even those nations and 
 individuals who are said to live exclusively on vegetables, 
 because they do not eat the flesh of animals, generally 
 make use of milk at least, of butter, cheese, and eggs.
 
 ALIMENTS. 
 
 487 
 
 A mixed diet of vegetable and animal food, is in truth 
 that which is best suited to the nature and condition of 
 man. The proportions in which these should be used, 
 it is not easy to determine. But generally the quantity 
 of vegetable should exceed that of animal food. We 
 may observe also, that the inhabitants of warmer cli- 
 mates require less animal food than those of higher 
 latitudes; and the sedentary of every climate less than 
 those who labour. The sanguine and plethoric should 
 use less animal food than those of the weak and nervous 
 temperament. In acute, febrile, and inflammatory dis- 
 eases, animal food is universally hurtful ; but in a great 
 variety of chronic ailments, in those especially connect- 
 ed with debility of the digestive and assimilating sys- 
 tems, it is often found to agree better than vegetable 
 aliment. 
 
 2. Having premised these general observations on 
 the nature of aliments, we shall now give some account 
 of the difterent alimentary substances, of those more 
 particularly, which are commonly used in Europe. We 
 begin with those derived from the vegetable kingdom. 
 
 All the products of vegetation are not equally nutri- 
 tious. Many of the vegetable principles indeed, so far 
 from being alimentary, are highly noxious to animal life. 
 The wax, resins, and balsams, the astringent, bitter, and 
 narcotic principles, are often used medicinally, but ne- 
 ver as food. And those vegetables which abound in 
 them cannot with safety be assumed as aliments. 
 
 The alimentary principles of vegetables are gum, or 
 mucilage, starch, gluten, jelly, Jtxed oil, sugar, and acids. 
 And the different vegetables, and parts of vegetables, 
 are nutritious, wholesome, and digestible, according to 
 the nature and proportion of these principles contained 
 in them. 
 
 Thie lightest kind of nourishment is afforded by the 
 mucilage, jelly, and acids of vegetables. The sugar 
 and fixed oils are more nutritive, but not so digestible. 
 The starch and gluten are the most nutritive, and, to- 
 gether with mucilage, at the same time the most abun- 
 dant principles contained in those vegetables from which 
 man derives his sustenance. Of these, the gluten ap- 
 proaches nearest to the nature of animal substances ; it 
 affords ammonia on distillation, and is susceptible of the 
 putrefactive fermentation. 
 
 Of all the alimentary substances derived from the ve- 
 getable kingdom, the most nutritive are the seeds of the 
 Cerealia, under which title are commonly comprehended 
 the gramina, or culmiferuus plants. 
 
 Those in common use arc the following : 
 
 Triticujn hybernum .... Wheat 
 
 Hordeum distic/iumf -d , 
 
 , S . . . . Barley 
 vulgare ^ ' 
 
 Avena sativa Oats 
 
 Secale cereale Rye 
 
 Oryza sativa Rice 
 
 Panicum italicum ) -.t-h ^ 
 ... > . . . . Millet 
 imliaceum y 
 
 Zea mays Indian corn, maize. 
 
 The seeds of these abound in farinaceous matter, a com- 
 pound of the most nutritive alimentary principles of ve- 
 getables. These three principles, starch, gluten, and 
 mucilage, constitute indeed the greater part of bread 
 corn, the most nutritious, perhaps, of all vegetable mat- 
 ters. The separation of these principles is easily effec- 
 ted by the following simple process: — Take a quantity 
 
 of wheaten flour made into a paste, knead it with your 
 hand, and wash it well and repeatedly with water. The 
 starch is carried ofl'with the water, and by rest subsides 
 to the bottom of the vessel; the mucilage is at the same 
 time separated, but remauis dissolved in the water, 
 from which it may be obtained by evaporation ; the glu- 
 ten remains in the hand, a tough, clastic, fibrous sub- 
 stance, of a greyish colour; and when dried, semi- 
 transparent, and much resembling glue. 
 
 Wheat flour contains by much the largest quantity of 
 gluten; the flour of the other nutritive grains but very 
 little of it. It is this large proportion of gluten which 
 gives the superiority to wheat over all the other grains, 
 and fits it so well for the preparation of leavened or fer- 
 mented bread, the most perfect, wholesome, and nutri- 
 tious of any. It is worthy of remark, however, that 
 wheaten bread, when used new-baked and warm from 
 the oven, is neither so wholesome nor so digestible as 
 when one day old. Biscuit, or unfermcnted bread, is 
 hardly less nutritive than loaf bread ; but it is, generally 
 speaking, neither so wholesome nor so digestible. It is 
 more apt also to induce costiveness ; yet with some 
 stomachs it agrees better, from being less acescent than 
 fermented bread. 
 
 The farina of the other cerealia affords also a very 
 nutritive and wholesome aliment; though their flour, 
 not so susceptible of the panary fermentation, camiot 
 be formed into the light spongy texture of the wheaten 
 loaf. Starch and mucilage are the chief alimentary 
 principles of their farina. The bread formed from 
 them is consequently much inferior to that prepared 
 from wheat; but made into pottages and puddings, they 
 afford abundance of wholesome nourishment. 
 
 Rice is the chief sustenance of some nations of the 
 east; and, when well boiled, affords an agreeable and 
 nourishing food, of easy digestion, and not so apt to sour 
 on the stomach as some of the other grains. Barley 
 bread is viscid, and not very digestible. The decoc- 
 tions of barley, barley water, and barley broth, are more 
 used. The former, it is well knovpn, is much employed 
 as an agreeable and wholesome nourishment for the 
 sick. 
 
 Rye bread is much used by some northern nations. 
 It is very acescent, and not so easily digested; but use- 
 ful sometimes in costive habits, from its tendency to 
 open the bowels. 
 
 The farina of oats, made into cakes and pottage, is 
 relished, and easily digested by tliose who have been 
 accustomed to that kind of food from their youth. That 
 it is nutritive and wholesome, cannot be doubted. 
 
 The flour of millet is well known in France, Spain, 
 and Italy. It forms but indifferent bread, but excellent, 
 wholesome, and nourishing pottages and puddings. 
 Maize, or Indian corn, is a principal article of suste- 
 nance in America and the West Indies. It is suffi- 
 ciently nutritive, and gently laxative. 
 
 Next to the cerealia, the seeds of leguminous plants 
 may be regarded as affording the greatest quantity of 
 alimentary matter. Their ripe seeds abound in the fa- 
 rinaceous compound of starch and mucilage. Their 
 meal has a sweetish taste, and forms also a sort of 
 emulsion with water. But it does not fully appear, that 
 the flour of the ripe seeds contains any very sensible 
 quantity either of sugar or oil, notwithstanding what has 
 been said to this effect by Dr CuUen. The farina of the 
 leguminous seeds, however, though it forms but a coarse 
 and indiff'erent bread, neither very palatable, nor very
 
 188 
 
 ALIMENTS. 
 
 digesliblc, except by Uic most robusl stomachs, is yet 
 highly nutiilivc. It is remarked by Dr CuUen, that 
 "oil certain l.inus of this country, upon which tlie legu- 
 iiiina arc profluced in great abundance, the labouring 
 servants arc much ild upon that kind of grain; but if 
 such servants arc removed to a farm upon which the 
 legumina arc not in such plenty, and therefore they are 
 fed with the cerealia, they soon tind a decay of strength ; 
 and it is conmron for servants, in making such remo- 
 vals, to insist on their being provided daily, or weekly, 
 with a certain quantity of the leguminous meal." We 
 are not, however, to conclude, from this observation, 
 that pease-meal bread is really more nutritive than 
 wheaten bread, or than the meal of the other cerealia. 
 AVe are rather disposed to regard it as an example of 
 the efl'ecl of habit. To conclude, the whole of this tribe 
 afford a much more agreeable and wholesome, though 
 not a more nutritive aliment, when their seeds are used 
 green, young, and tender, and simply boiled, than when 
 fully ripened, and their farina baked. Yet with some 
 constitutions, they arc apt to produce flatulency and 
 disorder of the stomach and bowels. 
 
 The leguminous seeds are derived from the 
 
 Pisum sativum — -Pea — Green pease, and pease-meal. 
 Vicia faba — Bean — The green beans and raeal. 
 Pliaseolus vulgaris — Kidney bean — The green pods 
 and seeds. 
 
 Many roots abounding in the amylaceous, mucilagi- 
 nous, and saccharine principles, yield a palatable and 
 highly nutritive aliment. 
 
 Solatium tuberosum, potatoe. — The root of the potatoe 
 boiled or roasted, as it is one of the most useful, is per- 
 haps, after the cerealia, one of the most wholesome and 
 most nutritive vegetables in common use. Its alimen- 
 tary properties are undoubtedly very great, and require 
 no other proof than general experience ; and above all, 
 that of the Irish peasantry, a robust and hardy race, 
 who derive their principal sustenance from this inva- 
 luable root. It contains "much amylaceous farina, on 
 which its alimentary powers seem to depend ; and 
 which, when mixed with that of wheat, has been formed 
 into a good and palatable bread, and used in seasons of 
 scarcity. 
 
 Convolvulus batatas — Spanish, or sweet potatoe. 
 Dioscorea bulbifera'\ 
 
 alata i. . . . . Yams. 
 
 ————— sativa J 
 
 Helianlhus tuberosus. — Jerusalem artichoke. 
 
 These come near to the potatoe in their sensible and 
 nutritive properties. They are more mucilaginous and 
 saccharine, and less palatable and nutritive. 
 
 Pastinaca sativa Parsnip 
 
 Siurn siserum Skirret 
 
 Scorzonera hisfiania Viper's grass 
 
 Tragofwgon fiorrifolium . . . Salsafi 
 
 Brassica ra/ia Turnip 
 
 Daucus carrota Carrot. 
 
 These roots too abound in mucilage, and contain a small 
 portion of the saccharine principle. When well boiled 
 and softened, they are considerably nutritive, palatable, 
 and digestible. 
 
 Beta vulgaris Red beet 
 
 cycla White beet. 
 
 Beet root contains a large proportion of sugar. Both 
 
 species are nutritive, but cannot be safely used in great 
 quantity, as lliey arc apt to induce llatulence and indi- 
 gestion ; and, from their sweetness, they are not very 
 nnich relished. 
 
 The amylaceous matter, which we have observed to 
 be the chief alimentary principle in the seeds of the 
 gramina and leguminosae, and in the roots of difl'ereni 
 plants, is advantageously extracted from some vegeta- 
 bles, and prepared so as to form a nourishing and pa- 
 latable aliment; and, from being easily digested, ex- 
 treniely well adapted as an article of diet ior the sick 
 and convalescent; as, 
 
 Cycas circinalis. Sago. Extracted from the pith of the 
 
 plant. 
 Jairofiha mamhot ) From the roots of which Tafiioca is 
 
 janifiha 3 obtained. 
 
 „ , . , ? Salefi is extracted from the roots of 
 
 3 this and other species of orchis. 
 Maranta arundmacea . . Indian arrow root. 
 
 A small quantity of any of these amylaceous substances, 
 converts, by proper management, a large quantity of 
 water into jelly, which, when lightly seasoned with su- 
 gar, and a little wine, forms a gently nourishing and 
 agreeable food. 
 
 In some roots again the alimentary matter is found 
 combined with an acrid principle, which, although they 
 are used, renders them less fit for the purposes of ali- 
 ment. For example, 
 
 Atium cefia The onion 
 
 fiorrum The leek 
 
 ——— sativum Garlic 
 
 — — ^— ascalonicum .... Shalot 
 
 — — — scorodojirasum .... Roccambole 
 
 The acrimony of the three last is so great, that they arc 
 chiefly employed as condiments, and in the composition 
 of sauces. The acrid principle of the onion and leek is 
 considerably lessened by boiling ; and then they are 
 lightly nutritive and mucilaginous. They disagree, 
 however, with some constitutions. 
 
 Ra/ihanus satixms— The radish. This too is an acrid 
 root, which, though much used, is but little nutritive, 
 and very apt to produce flatulence and disorder of the 
 stomach. 
 
 In those seeds which are called kernels, the drupa 
 and nux, we find the nutritive farina combined with ve- 
 getable fixed oil. 
 
 This union of farina and oil renders these substances 
 highly nutritious, and to most palates very agreeable. 
 Yet they are of difficult solution and digestion, and do 
 not upon the whole afford a very wholesome aliment. 
 When too freely used, they are sure to disagree, to pro- 
 duce flatulence, thirst, nausea, pain of the stomach, and 
 headach, more especially if from age the oil have be- 
 come rancid. 
 
 They should be considered rather as a delicacy than 
 as fitted to form any considerable proportion of our daily 
 food ; they ought to be sparingly used at any time. 
 
 The principal are, 
 
 Corylus avellana .... Hazel nut and filbert 
 
 Juglans regia Walnut 
 
 Amygdalus communis . . . Almond 
 
 Cocos nuciftra Cocoa nut 
 
 Anacardum. occidentale . . . Cashew nut 
 
 Tlieobroma cacao Chocolate nut. 
 
 Chocolate, which is prepared from the last, forms a
 
 ALiaiENTS. 
 
 480 
 
 well known wholesome nutritious aliment, employed 
 in many cases as a restorative. Cocoa, which is pre- 
 pared from the same nut, is less oily, and, upon the 
 whole, better adapted to general use than the choco- 
 late. 
 
 The fixed oil, which we have said is one of the nu- 
 tritive principles contained in vegetables, is extracted 
 from some by expression ; and when thus separated from 
 the farinaceous and other principles, is used as aliment. 
 The best oil is unquestionably that obtained from the 
 fruit of the 
 
 Oka £urofi£a Olive oil. 
 
 Good oil, though inferior to the olive, is also obtained 
 frora the seeds of the following : 
 
 Corylus avellunu ? . . . . Nut oil 
 
 Juglans ri'g-ia ^ 
 
 Pafiaver somni/crum . . . Poppy oil 
 
 Amijgdaliis communis . . . Almond oil 
 
 Jirassica ra/ia f „ , -i 
 ', , . > . . . Rape seed oa. 
 cam/icstns y '^ 
 
 Oil, when it agrees with the stomach, is certainly very 
 nourishing. It is seldom used alone, but generally 
 along with some Other vegetable or animal food. With 
 some particular stomachs it never agrees. In Italy 
 and the south of Europe, olive oil is largely consumed 
 in lieu of butter. In this country, it is more sparingly 
 used, and chiefly as a sauce or condiment to sallads, fish, 
 &c. 
 
 The leaves, stalks, and flowers of vegetables, contain 
 much less nutritious matter than the farinaceous seeds 
 and roots already noticed. Watery and mucilaginous, 
 the aliment afforded by the oleraceous herbs is there- 
 fore not very great ; nor can man be well supported by 
 them alone. As adjuvant articles of diet, however, they 
 are useful. They are cooling and aperient, and thus 
 serve to correct the stimulant and septic tendency of 
 animal food, or the binding effects of the more nourish- 
 ing and fiirinaceous vegetables. Too freely indulged in, 
 they are apt, in some constitutions, to produce flatulence 
 and cholic. 
 
 The vegetables to which these remarks apply, are, 
 
 Brassica oleracea I Cabbage, colewort, cauliflower, 
 ) broccoli, savoy 
 
 Crambe maritima Sea-kale 
 
 Cichoreum inlybus Succory 
 
 endiva Endive 
 
 Lactnca sativa Lettuce 
 
 Portulaca oleracea Purslane 
 
 S/iinacia oleracea ». . Spinage 
 
 Asjiaragus officinalis Asparagus 
 
 Cynara scolymus Artichoke. 
 
 Of these, there is none more tender, or more whole- 
 some, than spinage. Of the varieties of cabbage, the 
 broccoli and cauliflower are the most easily digested, 
 and least flatulent. The asparagus and artichoke, are 
 agreeable and wholesome enough, tolerably nutritious, 
 and have besides some power as diuretics. The as- 
 paragus communicates to the urine a strong and peculiar 
 odour, which shews that it is not of very easy assimila- 
 tion. 
 
 The endive and lettuce are chiefly used raw as sallads. 
 Lettuce has also some degree of narcotic and soporific 
 effect ; a quality which depends on the bitter milky 
 juice contained in the leaf stalks. 
 
 Vol. I. Part IL 
 
 jl/iiian JtetrOHi-linum . . . . Parsley 
 
 graveolcna Sniallagc, celery. 
 
 Parsley is slightly aromatic, little nutritive, and chiefly 
 used to season sallads, broths. Sec. 
 
 Celery, naturally too acrimonious to be used as ali- 
 ment, becomes by cultivation milder, and is then high- 
 ly relished by many people as a sallad. It is also used 
 boiled or stewed, and affords a light mucilaginous 
 nourishment. 
 
 Lcpidium sativum .... Garden cress. 
 Sisymbrium ?iasturtium . . . Water cress. ^ 
 
 These are used as warm aromatic sallads, or as sea- 
 sonings merely. They promote digestion, and are es- 
 teemed antiscorbutic. 
 
 Runiex acetosa . Sorrel. 
 
 Sorrel is little used in this country. When boiled, how- 
 ever, and dressed like spinage, its acidity is considera- 
 bly lessened ; it is rendered extremely tender and pala- 
 table, and affords a cooling opening, acid and mucilagin- 
 ous aliment. In this v/ay it is much used in France and 
 other countries on the Continent. 
 
 Lichen islandicus Iceland liverwort. 
 
 This moss is used as an aliment by the Icelanders. 
 Freed by maceration from a l)itter principle which it 
 contains, and then boiled in water or milk, it yields a 
 wholesome gelatinous nourishment, which has lately 
 been highly extolled as a restorative in consumptive 
 cases. 
 
 Some species of the fucus and ulva are slightly nu- 
 tritive, as the 
 
 Fucus esculentiis Eatable fucus. 
 
 Ulva lactuca Green laver. 
 
 I xalmata Dulse. 
 
 They are used raw as sallads, or are boiled till they be- 
 come tender. 
 
 The fungi are rather used as condiments than as food. 
 Their principles seem somewhat different from those of 
 other vegetable productions ; and from being liable to 
 the putrefactive fermentation, and yielding ammonia, on 
 distillation, their elements resemble those of animal 
 matters. Those which are esculent are stimulant, and, it 
 is presumed, highly nutritious. The best known, and 
 most used, are, 
 
 Agaricus camjiestris .... Common mushroom 
 Phalus esculentiis .... Morell 
 Lyco/iei-don tuber .... Truffle. 
 
 Some few fruits, rich in farinaceous and mucilaginous 
 matter, yield an aliment scarcely less nutritious than 
 the farinaceous grains and roots. But none of these are 
 indigenous. The examples are, 
 
 Artocar/ius incisa Breadfruit 
 
 Brosimum alicastrum , . • , . Bread-nut 
 
 JMusa safiientum ...... Banana 
 
 /laradisiaca Plantain. 
 
 These, in the East and West Indies, are used as sub- 
 stitutes for bread. 
 
 The fagus castanea, chesnut, when roasted, resembles 
 a good deal some of these alimentary fruits, and is, like 
 them, farinaceous and nourishing. 
 
 Generally, however, fruits do not greatly abound 
 in nutritive farina. The nourishment afforded by 
 them is of the lighter kind, and derived from the mu- 
 3 Q
 
 190 
 
 ALIMENTS. 
 
 cilage and sugar whiclj they contain. Together with 
 these principles and water, many of them contain also 
 the difl'ercnt vegetable acids, the malic, citric, tar- 
 trous, and oxalic. It is this combination which renders 
 them so agreeable to the taste, and so generally relished 
 by man. 
 
 From this combination of principles too, may be deri- 
 ved the advantages and disadvantages they possess as 
 aliments. They are nourishing in proportion to the 
 mucilage, jelly, and sugar, which they contain ; cooling, 
 aperient, nd antiseptic, in proportion as they are wa- 
 tery-and acidulous. They are not of themselves capa- 
 ble of long supporting the strength and renewing the 
 waste of the system ; but, conjoined with other more 
 nutritious aliment, ripe fruits are in their season safe, 
 useful, and often highly beneficial adjuvants to our diet. 
 They obviate and correct the stimulant and septic ef- 
 fects of animal food, open the body, and cool and re- 
 fresh the system. Hence they are found so eminently 
 useful in febrile, inflammatory, and scorbutic affections. 
 Indeed in the sea scurvy, a disease arising from the too 
 exclusive use of a stimulating animalized diet, the 
 subacid fruits are sovereign remedies. By the same 
 properties, however, they are hurtful in cases of gra- 
 vel, stone, and diabetis ; and generally in all those dis- 
 eases arising from, or connected with, an inperfect 
 assimilation and conseqvient acidity of the primse vise. 
 Intempcrately eaten, fruits have in all constitutions, and 
 particularly in the nervous, dyspeptic, and hysteric, pro- 
 duced great disorder of the stonuich and bowels, cholic, 
 diarrhcea, and cholera. Upon the whole, as a part of our 
 daily diet, fruits are safe and useful : but, excepting un- 
 der particvilar circumstances, they ought not to form the 
 whole of any one meal, and should never be indulged in 
 to satiety. 
 
 The pulpy fruits, such as the fig and apple tribe, are 
 more nutritive than the more watery acidulous fruits, 
 as the orange, grape, and berry. The former too, 
 when conserved, boiled, or baked, afford a light and 
 wholesome nourishment. The subacid fruits, as goose- 
 berries and currants, are advantageously made into tarts, 
 jellies, &c. or otherwise conserved with sugar. The 
 nourishment derived from them is not very great ; but 
 they are wholesome, antiseptic, and cooling. The skins 
 and husks, of fruits, and the hard seeds of berries, are 
 nearly, or altogether indigestible. It is needless to be 
 more particular ; after what has been said, it will be 
 sufficient to subjoin a list of the principal esculent 
 fruits, to which our general observations may with little 
 variation be applied : 
 
 A/nygdalus Jiersica .... Peach and nectarine 
 
 Priinuis arineniaca .... Apricot 
 
 doniestica .... Plum 
 
 cerasus . • . . . Cherry 
 
 Phaiiix dactylifera .... Date 
 
 Ficus carica Fig 
 
 Cactus rjpuntia Prickly pear 
 
 Bromelia ananas .... Pine apple 
 
 Garcinia mangostana . . . Mangosteen 
 
 S^lajigijera indica .... Mango 
 
 Morns nigra Mulberry 
 
 i'ilrus aurantium Orange 
 
 medica Lemon 
 
 Punica granatum .... Pomegranate 
 Ribes grossularia .... Gooseberry 
 ■ I -rubrum Red currant 
 
 hides nigrum Black currant 
 
 liubu.i iitaua Raspberry 
 
 Fragraria vesca Strawberry 
 
 Varcinium myrtillua .... Bilberry 
 
 -oxycocos .... Cranberry 
 
 -vitis ideea .... Red whortle berry 
 
 Vitis vinifcra Grape 
 
 Pyrus 7nnlus Apple 
 
 communis Pear 
 
 cydonia Quince 
 
 Mts/ii/us gtrmanica .... Medlar 
 
 Cucumis melo Melon 
 
 Hativus Cucumber. 
 
 We have now reviewed the principal alimentary sub- 
 stances derived from the vegetable kingdom. Upon 
 the whole, it appears, that these are nutritive nearly 
 in proportion to the quantity of farinaceous matter 
 contained in them. For the most nutntivc, and at 
 the same time the most abounding in farina, are the 
 seeds of the gramina and leguminosae, after which 
 may be ranged the oleo-farinaceous seeds, the alimen- 
 tary roots, herbs, and fruits. The farina of wheat, 
 we have seen, is a compound of starch, mucilage, and 
 gluten. But as starch and mucilage constitute the; 
 farinaceous matter of most other grains and nutritive 
 roots, these must be regarded as the chief alimentary 
 principles of vegetables. The other principles are less 
 constant. Of these, the oil is the most nourishing ; 
 sugar too is alimentary ; the acids hold the lowest 
 rank. 
 
 3. Animal substances, as well as the vegetable, are 
 easily resolved into a certain number of proximate prin- 
 ciples. Those which are alimentary, are gelatine, albu- 
 men, fibrine, and oil or fat. 
 
 Gelatine, or animal jelly, is the well known colour- 
 less, transparent, tremulous substance, extracted from 
 calves' feet and hartshorn, and so elegantly prepared for 
 our tables. Glue and isinglass are specimens of dried 
 gelatine. This prhiciple is distinguished by its solu- 
 bility in cold water, and by the gelatinous form which 
 it assumes when evaporated by heat, and allowed to cool. 
 Gelatine exists in almost every animal substance ; in 
 particular, it abounds in the skin, the tendons, and bones, 
 from which, in consequence of its solubility, in hot water, 
 it is easily extracted by boiling. Gelatine is less ani- 
 malized than the other principles, that is, it contains 
 less nitrogen, and yields consequently less ammonia 
 when destructively analized. 
 
 Animal jelly affords a sufficiently nutritious aliment, of 
 easy digestion when properly prepared, and less stimu- 
 lant and septic than substances abounding in the other 
 principles. Hartshorn and calves' feet jelly have ac- 
 cordingly long been regarded as food extremely well 
 adapted to the feeble powers of the sick and convales- 
 cent. 
 
 Albumen is, like gelatine, soluble in water ; but it is 
 distinguished by its coagulation on the application of 
 heat, and its consequent separation from the water in 
 which it had been dissolved or diffused. It is more 
 animalized than gelatine, but less so than fibrine. The 
 white of an egg presents us with the best and most 
 fomiliar example of albumen. It exists in the serum 
 of blood, and the curd of milk has nearly the same pro- 
 perties. Coagulated albumen, according to Mr Hatchet's 
 (Experiments, forms ako a principal part of the cartila-
 
 ALIMENTS. 
 
 491 
 
 ges, membranes, hoofs, horns, feathers, quills, and hairs 
 of animals. 
 
 As an aliment, albumen is highly nutritive ; but ex- 
 cepting as it exists in the white of the egg, is not used 
 as a separate article of diet, or uncombined with the 
 other principles. 
 
 Fibrine exists in a dissolved state in the circulating 
 blood, and spontaneously coagulates when allowed to 
 rest. It constitutes also the tibrous part of the muscu- 
 lar flesh. It may be exhibited by wasliing the coagulum 
 of blood, or a portion of any muscle, until they become 
 colourless. Fibrine, or animal gluten, is a white, tough, 
 elastic, fibrous substance, insoluble in water, and con- 
 taining in its composition a greater quantity of nitrogen 
 than any of the other principles. Though in a separate 
 and uncombined state, it is not employed as aliment, 
 fibrine is largely consumed with the flesh of animals. 
 It is excluded from soups and broths, which necessarily 
 contain only the soluble principles of the flesh. Fibrine, 
 however, is readily dissolved by the gastric fluid, and 
 may be regarded as the strongest and most stimulant of 
 aliments. 
 
 Animal oil, or /at, is too well known to require any 
 particular description in this place. It is a nutritious 
 component part of animal substances, but not so easily 
 digested by ordinary stomachs as the other alimentary 
 principles. The most robust only are capable of over- 
 coming a full meal of fat. The stomach is oppressed 
 by it, and nausea, rancid eructations, and general dis- 
 order, arc not uncommonly produced. More sparingly 
 eaten, hoAvevcr, and with a due proportion of the flesh, it 
 agrees well with most people, and is justly regarded as 
 highly nourishing. 
 
 The different parts of animals employed as aliments 
 come next to be considered. They may be distinguish- 
 ed into fluids and solids. The only fluids which can be 
 regarded as alimentary, are the blood and the milk of 
 lUiimals. 
 
 The blood is composed of the three alimentary prin- 
 ciples, fibrine, albumen, and gelatine ; it contains be- 
 sides water, the red globules, and some saline matters. 
 We should therefore conclude the blood to be very nu- 
 iriiivc. It is, however, generally esteemed a heavy and 
 indigestible aliment in whatever way prepared. It must, 
 however, be largely consumed in every flesh meal ; and 
 the blood of some animals, as that of the hog and ox, is 
 made into puddings by the coimtry people, and highly 
 relished by them. This kind of food, however, says 
 Lieutaud, requires all the powers of the most robust 
 stomachs. 
 
 Milk is the fluid secreted by the females of the mam- 
 malia class for the nourishment of their young. The 
 principles contained in it are oil, albuminous and sac- 
 charine matter, water, and some saline matters. Milk 
 is almost the only animal product susceptible of the 
 vinous and acetous fermentations ; and in this particu- 
 lar it seems to approximate to the nature of vegetable 
 substances. Indeed the sugar on which this properly 
 seems to depend, is to be considered rather as a vegeta- 
 ble than animal principle. And thus milk, containing 
 at once animal and vegetable principles, is a sort of 
 mixed aliment. 
 
 Woman's milk, the food pointed out by nature as the 
 best adapted to the young of our own species, contains 
 less curd, but more oil, and more sugar than cow's milk. 
 The ass and the mare yield milk which resembles that 
 of the woman, in containing larger proportions of the 
 
 oily and saccharine, than of the caseous matter, which 
 most abounds in the milk of the cow, goat, and sheep. 
 Of the constituent pails of milk, the albuminous is the 
 most animaliscd ; the saccharine is more properly a 
 vegetable prmciple, and the oily may be regarded as 
 intermediate. 
 
 Woman's milk, therefore, and that of the ass and mare, 
 afford the lightest and least stimulant aUment ; the milk 
 of the cow, goat, and ewe, the most nutritive. In ano- 
 ther part of this work, when treating of the nursing of 
 infants, we shall return to the consideration of woman'^> 
 milk. At present we have only to add a few words on 
 the alimentary properties of milk in general. Milk, 
 though an aliment nutritious and wholesome, is not 
 equally well digested by every stomach. It is apt to 
 offend in two ways ; first, coagulating very firmly in the 
 stomach, it occasions sickness, and is afterwards reject- 
 ed by vomiting ; secondly, becoming acid, it gives rise 
 to flatulence, heart-burn, gripings, and diarrhoea. When 
 the tone of the stomach therefore is enfeebled, the pow- 
 ers of the digestive organs weak, and a tendency exists 
 to the formation of acid, milk is not always found to an- 
 swer the restorative purposes for which it had been 
 taken. Still, however, most people bear milk well, whe- 
 ther taken alone, or, what is better, along with the vege- 
 table tarinacea. And in many cases of disease and con- 
 valescence, it may be usefully employed as a mild and 
 restorative aliment. There is indeed reason to believe, 
 agreeably to the general opinion, that it is the aliment of 
 all others the most easily assimilated. Where it is found 
 to sit too heavily on the stomach, it is advantageously 
 diluted with water ; and to obviate its acescency, it is 
 sometimes prescribed mixed with soda or lime water. 
 Sometimes again, it agrees better after having been 
 boiled, though it is then more apt to produce costiveness. 
 The constituent parts of milk arc also separately em- 
 ployed as aliments. 
 
 Butter, the oily part of milk, is a highly nutritious 
 food, and moderately used in its fresh state, very whole- 
 some. Like the otlier animal oils, however, it is too 
 heavy to be used by itself; it is more safely eaten along 
 with a due proportion of bread, or other aliment. Ran- 
 cid butter, or that which has been much decomposed in 
 the processes of cookery, is extremely apt to disagree 
 with most stomachs, and is not easily digested by any. 
 
 Curd. — Milk newly coagulated, and the parts not se- 
 parated from each other, differs but little in alimentary 
 properties from uncoagulated milk. The curd separated 
 from the whey, and gently pressed, is an agreeable and 
 somewhat more nutritive aliment. 
 
 Cheese. — The curd subjected to strong pressure, is 
 highly nutritious. But the qualities of cheese are differ- 
 ent according to the modes of preparation, the quantity 
 of oil retained by the curd, and the length of time it has 
 been kept. Generally, cheese is an aliment of difficult 
 digestion, and suited as an article of diet to the stomachs 
 of the robust only. In many countries, it forms a con- 
 siderable part of the sustenance of the peasants and 
 labourers. But, in general, it is used only as an adju- 
 vant, or condiment. 
 
 Butter Milk. — The portion of milk which remains 
 after the separation of the butter by churning, is mode- 
 rately nutritious. It is, moreover, somewhat acid, and 
 thus affords a wholesome cooling beverage, grateful, and 
 very useful in a heated or feverish state of the body. Dr 
 CuUen has remarked, " that such acid does not encrease 
 the acescency of the stomach, or occasion the flatulency 
 3Q3
 
 492 
 
 ALIMENTS. 
 
 that recent vegetable acids do ; uiul therefore it is more 
 safely employed in dyspeptic persons." 
 
 Wluy. — Tlie lliiid which remains after the separation 
 of the curd and oil, conluins in solution, the saccharine 
 and saline parts of the milk, with a small portion of the 
 ani\iial principles. Its nutritive powers are therefore not 
 very great. It is cooling, antiseptic, and aperient. 
 
 The ova of birds in alimeniary properties bear no in- 
 considerable analogy to the milk of the manlmalia, and 
 ■oonie therefore next to be noticed. The white of the 
 egg consists almost entirely of albumen ; the yolk con- 
 ■tains albuminous matter, oil, gelatine, and water. Thus 
 ■the egg is formed of the most nutritive alimentary prin- 
 ciples. And when these principles have been gently 
 coagulated by heat, the egg is found to be a wholesome, 
 as well as nourishing food ; one or two are easily digest- 
 ed by most individuals; a greater number, taken atone 
 time, are apt to disagree. And indeed we may remark, 
 with Dr CuUen, "that a smaller bulk of this than any 
 other food, will satisfy and occupy the digestive powers 
 of most men." 
 
 Eggs, according to Lieutaud and other writers, arc 
 well suited to those who are subject to acid crudities of 
 the stomach and primae viae. They are said also to favour 
 the secretion of bile, and so to disagree with those of 
 the bilious temperament. On the other hand, raw eggs 
 have been thought serviceable in the jaundice, and in 
 cases of obstructed liver. By Mr White of Manches- 
 ter, they have been especially extolled in the icterus of 
 pregnant women. 
 
 The eggs of different fowls differ less in alimentary 
 properties than might at first be expected. The chief 
 dilVirence consists in some variety of flavour. 'J"he eggs 
 of the granivorous fowls, and especially of the common 
 domestic fowl, arc confessedly the best. 
 
 Of the solid parts of animals almost all are alimenta- 
 ry ; and according to the nature, proportion, and state of 
 combination of the principles of which they are formed, 
 they are more or less nourishing, more or less suscepti- 
 ble of digestion. 
 
 The white Jiarts, comprehending the skin, cellular 
 texture, the membranes, ligaments, cartilages, and ten- 
 dons, which consist almost entirely of gelatine and con- 
 densed albumen, unless they have been much softened 
 and dissolved into jelly, by long boiling, are more diffi- 
 cult of digestion, and afford even then a nutriment of a 
 lighter and less stimulating nature than that derived 
 from other parts containing a due admixture of the other 
 alimentary principles. 
 
 Cow-heel, calf-head, sheep-head, and trotters, afford 
 examples of this kind of aliment, which, unless ex- 
 tremely well boiled, is far from being easily digested. 
 
 The gelatine of bones is digestible and alimentary, 
 only after it has been extracted and dissolved in water. 
 
 Tripe, the stomach of ruminating quadrupeds, is 
 nearly allied to the white membranous parts, in composi- 
 tion and alimentary properties. The stomach, however, 
 circulates more red blood, contains besides a certain 
 portion of muscular fibre, is more animalised, and fur- 
 nishes accordingly a more savoiuy aliment, perhaps a 
 more nourishing one, than those parts entirely formed 
 of gelatine. 
 
 We find it more difficult to estimate the alimentary 
 qualities of the glandular parts of animals. The spleen 
 and kidneys are enumerated by Celsus, with those ali- 
 ments which afford a bad, and the liver with those which 
 yield a good juice. All that we can venture to say on 
 
 this subject, is, that the glandular parts of young animal*, 
 if freed from the odour of their peculiar secretion, are 
 agreeable, and sufficiently nutritive aliments. The pan- 
 creas, or sweet-bread, is the most delicate, the least sti- 
 mulating, and perhaps the most digestible. The spleen 
 is a coarse, and not very digestible ahment. The brain 
 too is heavy, and apt to disagree with some stomachs. 
 The liver, especially that of young animals, and ol some 
 birds, is by many esteemed a great delicacy, and appears 
 to be very wholesome. The liver of many fishes abounds 
 in oil. 
 
 The muscular flesh, which constitutes indeed the chief 
 part of our food derived from tne animal kingdom, ap- 
 pears to be, upon the whole, the most nourishing, the 
 most wholesome, and the most easily digested of any. 
 
 Its advantages in these respects, may well be attribut- 
 ed to its peculiar composition, — a just assemblage ot" 
 all the alimentary principles. For the llcsh, besides con- 
 taining the largest quantity of fibrine, has also a due pro- 
 portion of gelatine, albumen, and fat. And indeed the 
 alimentary properties of dift'erent kinds of flesh, appear 
 to depend, in a great measure, on the proportions and 
 aggregation of these principles. Thus, the flesh of 
 young animals contains more gelatine, and less fibrine, 
 than that of the full grown and older, and yields at the 
 same time a ligliter nutriment, and of less easy diges- 
 tion. \^cry old, hard, tough flesh, contains again too 
 little gelatine and fat ; the fibrine has become firmer 
 and less soluble; and therefore such meat is less suc- 
 culent, less digestible, and less nutritive, than the same 
 kind of flesh in its prime. By boiling, the gelatine and 
 a portion of albumen are extracted, and hence, perhaps, 
 it is tliat boiled meat is less nourishing and digestible 
 than roasted flesh, which retains all its principles. 
 
 Muscular flesh contains also a larger quantity of red 
 blood, from which indeed it derives its colour, than any 
 of the other parts of animals commonly employed as 
 aliment. Whether or not any of its alimentary quali- 
 ties may depend on this circumstance, we cannot con- 
 fidently say. But red-coloured flesh is certainly a 
 stronger and more nourishing food than the white-co- 
 loured muscle — the flesh of the ox, for example, than 
 that of the rabbit. 
 
 Chemists have detected another principle in muscular 
 flesh, to which they have given the name of extractive. 
 This principle is soluble in alcohol, of a brownish red 
 colour, an aromatic odour, and strong acrid taste. 
 
 The particular flavours of flesh have been attributed 
 to this principle, which may probably add also to its 
 stimulant properties, if not to its nutritive. 
 
 We may remark in this place too, that a peculiar 
 strong and disagreeable flavour is commiuiicated to the 
 flesh of many male animals by the seminal fluids. 
 
 This is one reason why the flesh of these animals is 
 so much improved by castration. The flesh of the cas- 
 trated animal is free from this flavour, it becomes ten- 
 derer also, and generally fatter. 
 
 The muscular parts are the organs by which all the 
 motions of animals are performed, and there is a particu- 
 lar state of their contraction, called their tone, which 
 seems to continue even for some time after a vigorous 
 animal has been slaughtered — a sort of permanent con- 
 traction, which approximates the fibres of the muscles. 
 
 By the practice of crimping, this state is advantage- 
 ously increased, to give greater firmness to the soft 
 flesh offish. But the flesh of quadrupeds becomes more 
 tender;^ and ,of more easy digestion, by being kept soihe
 
 AIJMENTS. 
 
 493 
 
 lime after death, till the tonic contraction is destroyed. 
 The tciiclerncss wliich flesh acquires hy being kept, is 
 DO doubt to be in part attributed to the commenceuiciit 
 of that spontaneous decomposition, which soon termi- 
 nates in the putrefaction and dissolution of its sub- 
 stance. 
 
 Tlie last general remark we have to make on this 
 subject, is that the flesh of phytivorous animals is, Ctdcri-i 
 fiaribus, less alkalescent, more wholesome, more agree- 
 able, and more digestible, than that of carnivorous 
 animals. 
 
 Having thus analytically reviewed the alimentary 
 principles, and different parts of animals used as food, 
 the account of the difl'erent genera and species from 
 which these are derived, may be much abridged, and 
 need not detain us long. 
 
 The flesh of quadrupeds is more largely consumed 
 than that of any other class of animals ; and indeed those 
 in common use, in most parts of Europe, possess all the 
 alimentary properties in the highest perfection. They 
 belong to the three orders of Pecora, Glires, and Bcl- 
 
 lU£. 
 
 Pecora. 
 
 Bos Taurus The ox. Beef and veal. 
 
 Ovis Aries The sheep. Mutton and 
 
 lamb. 
 
 Cafira Hirciis The goat. Kid flesh. 
 
 Ccrvus FJefihas The stag. ~) 
 
 Dama Buck and fal- ( ,, . 
 
 , 1 > Venison, 
 
 low-deer. [ 
 
 Cafireolus Roe-buck. J 
 
 Tarandus Rein-dcer. 
 
 Glires. 
 
 Lepus Timidus Hare. 
 
 Cuniculus Rabbit. 
 
 BELLU.E. 
 
 Sus Scrofa Hog. Pork. 
 
 Bull-beef is tough, dry, of a very disagreeable fla- 
 vour, and therefore seldom eaten. This affords us one 
 example of the great amelioration of the alimentary 
 qualities of the flesh of animals by castration ; for ox 
 beef is at once agreeable, nourishing, wholesome, and 
 tenderer even than the flesh of the cow. Veal, the flesh 
 of the yoimg animal, is more delicate, and more gela- 
 tinous than beef; but, at the same time, less nourishing, 
 less stimulant, and in fjeneral not so easily digested. 
 It is less animalized, and therefore less putrescent, than 
 almost any other flesh. Indeed the jelly and broth of 
 very young veal is disposed to become even acescent. 
 
 Mutton is esteemed one of the best aliments ; it is 
 also one of the most common. The flesh of the uncas- 
 trated animal is hardly eatable. Wedder mutton, not 
 under two years old, is agreeable, tender, and succulent ; 
 at five years, ithas probably attained its highest perfec- 
 tion. Ewe-mutton is much inferior to it. Lamb bears 
 the same relation, in its alimentary properties, to mutton, 
 that veal does to beef. It is less stimulant and less nu- 
 tritive than mutton. But if the lamb have been properly 
 nursed for six months, or a little more, and not weaned, 
 as is too often done, at two months old, it affords a 
 most agreeable, sufficiently nourishing, and digestible 
 aliment. 
 
 Goat's flesh is coarser, and in every respect inferior to 
 that of the sheep. The flesh of the kid is sufficiently 
 tender and delicate. 
 
 Venison is an aliment in great estimation. It is very 
 nulritive, and easily digested. The flesh of the young 
 lawn is tender, succulent, and gelatinous ; but tlie most 
 nutritive and best flavoured is that of the full grown 
 animal of lour years old, or more. The best season for 
 killing it is in the month of August ; for, in the rutting- 
 seasoii, September and October, tlie animal becomes 
 lean, and its flesh rank, tough, and ill llavoiu'ed. The 
 flesh of the female is at all times inferior to that of tlie 
 male. The fallow-deer is commonly better fattened than 
 the stag, and its flesh upon the whole is tenderer. That 
 of the roebuck is also very tender; but it is inferior in 
 flavour, and other qualities, to the fallow-deer. 
 
 Pork is an aliment without doubt highly nutritious ; but, 
 on account of the fat, with which it abounds, not so 
 digestible. It is stimulant and savoury, though its par- 
 ticular flavour is not agreeable to everyone. It yields, 
 however, to those with whom it agrees, much nourish- 
 ment. By the ancients it was regarded as the strongest 
 of all aliments, and was therefore much employed in the 
 diet of the athletas. The flesh of the uncut boar is 
 strong, coarse, and ill flavoured ; that of the sow which 
 has farrowed is also disagreeable. The flesh of the cas- 
 trated animal is freed from this ill flavour ; it is als» 
 fatter, tenderer, and more digestible. The flesh of the 
 sucking pig, like that of other young animals, abounds ia 
 gelatine, and affords a more delicate, lighter, and less 
 stimulant aliment, than that of the full grown animal. 
 
 The hare and rabbit afford agreeable and wholesome 
 food. The former is more dense, higher flavoured, and 
 more stimulant than the latter, the flesh of which is 
 white and delicate, and, of the young rabbit, very tender, 
 and easily digestible. 
 
 The aliment obtained from birds is, in general, less 
 nourishing than that derived from the mammiferous 
 quadrupeds. The flesh of those birds, which feed on 
 grains and fruits, is the most delicate, and most easily- 
 digested. The flesh of water-fowl, and such as devour 
 fish, insects, and the like, is commonly very alkalescent, 
 oily, strong flavoured, highly nourishing, but heavy, and 
 of more difficult digestion. 
 
 The birds in most common use, and yielding at the 
 same time the best aliment, belong to the gallinaceous 
 family. Their flesh is white, of the most agreeable and 
 delicate flavour, little heating, and, when not too old, 
 succulent, nutritive, and easily digested. To this order 
 belong 
 
 Dunghill fowl. 
 Pheasant. 
 Turkey. 
 Peacock. 
 Guinea hen. 
 
 Phasianiis Gallus . 
 Colcliiciis 
 
 Meleagris Gallo fmvo 
 
 Pavo Cristatus 
 
 A'umida jMe/eagris 
 
 Tetrao Perdrix 
 
 Cotiirnix 
 JLagofius . 
 
 Tetrix . . 
 
 Scotictis . 
 Urogallu s 
 
 Partridge. 
 
 Quail. 
 
 Ptarmigan. 
 ' Black game, cock, or 
 I growse. 
 
 Red game, red growse. 
 
 Cock of the mountain. 
 
 The properties of the domestic fowls require no farthe;- 
 comment. The different species of Tetrao furnish an 
 aliment rather more stimulant, sapid, and alkalescent, 
 but wholesome, and svifl'iciently digestible. A stronger, 
 heavier, and more stimulant food, is furnished by the 
 birds of the nest order, the Anser-ins famiH'.
 
 494 
 
 ALIMENTS. 
 
 Anseres. 
 
 Anaa Anner . 
 
 Domettica . 
 Boncha.i 
 Penelojie . 
 Crecca . . 
 Alca Tarda 
 
 The goose, domestic and 
 wild. 
 
 The duck. 
 . The wild duck. 
 . The widgeon. 
 . The teal. 
 . Razor bill. 
 
 Peticanus Basumius Solon goose. 
 
 The flesh of these birds is very nourishing, but con- 
 siderably heating, strong flavoured, and alkalescent. 
 They are not, therefore, so well suited to the weak and 
 delicate, as the gallinaceous fowls are ; nor are they in 
 general so easily digested. 
 
 GuALLiE. 
 
 Scolo/iaJ^ Rusticola . . Woodcock. 
 
 Gallinago . . . Snipe. 
 
 Arqueta . . . Curlew. 
 Tringa Squalavula . ■ Grey Plover. 
 
 Vanetlus . . . Lapwing. 
 Charadrius Pluvialis . Green plover. 
 Fiilica Fusca .... Brown gallinule. 
 
 C/tloru/iiis . . Common water-hen. 
 Rallus Crex .... Land rail. 
 
 These, and some others of this family, are savoury and 
 well flavoured aliments, moderately stimulant, whole- 
 some and sufficiently digestible. 
 
 Passeres. 
 
 Coltmiba domescica 
 
 Paiumbus 
 Alauda arvensis . 
 
 Common pigeon. 
 Ring dove. 
 Lark. 
 
 Pigeons afford a very rich and stimulant food. The 
 different species of the lark furnish a delicate and light- 
 er aliment. And indeed, many other birds of the pas- 
 serine family are edible, wholesome, and easily digested. 
 
 Amphibia. 
 The only animals of this class used as aliment, are 
 
 „ ^ > Sea turtle. 
 
 J'erox ... 3 
 
 Greca .... Land turtle. 
 
 Rana Esculenta . . . The frog. 
 
 Coluber Fijiera . . . The viper. 
 
 The flesh of the turtle is white, tender, and nourish- 
 ing. The rich fat with which it abounds is not so easily 
 digested. But if plainly dressed, the turtle, upon the 
 whole, affords a wholesome and nutritious aliment, not 
 very different from the flesh of young quadrupeds. By 
 the abuses of cookery, the simplest food may be rendered 
 as heavy and indigestible as dressed turtle. 
 
 The frog is hardly known as an aliment in this country. 
 The hinder legs alone are served up in France, and 
 other countries where it is used. The flesh has a white 
 and delicate appearance, but is very insipid, and cer- 
 tainly not very nourishing. 
 
 In Italy the viper broth is still used. But there is no 
 good reason to suppose that it possesses any peculiar 
 properties as a restorative. 
 
 Fishes circulate but little red blood, and their tempe- 
 rature hardly exceeds that of the element in which they 
 live. Their muscular parts have little colour, and their 
 texture is soft. They abound most in a watery gelati- 
 nous and albuminous matter, and their fibrine possesses 
 less elasticity and cohesion than that of the flesh of ter- 
 restrial aninaals. Their oil too is thinner, and not con- 
 
 cresable like that of quadrupeds and birds. The sub- 
 stance offish is, notwitlistanding these qualities, very a! 
 kalescent and putrescent, and when decomposing exhale 
 a strong ammoniacal and peculiar odour, sensibly dil- 
 ferent from that of putrid flesh. From a comparison o' 
 their respective qualities and organization, we migh* 
 have concluded, that fish would, in equal weight aft'ord i> 
 less nourishing aliment than flesh, and of more diffi- 
 cult digestion and assimilation. Experience comes in 
 support of this conclusion. The Roman Catholics, who, 
 during the forty days ot Lent, rigorously abstain from the 
 use of flesh, but indulge freely in a fish diet, are said to 
 be less nourished by it, and to become sensibly thinner 
 and weaker, as Hallcr indeed tells us he had himself ex- 
 perienced. " .Von adffj," he whimsically adds, " nor: 
 adco ab.trjue ra/ione monachi gcnerationi non destinati a 
 Romana ecclesia aut ad jnajorcm, auf ad unicum /liaciun^ 
 usum, legibtis adslringuntur." 
 
 The disorders of the system, the herpetic, leprous, 
 and scorbutic eruptions, to which the ichthyophagi are 
 said to be more especially liable, show, we think, with 
 other observations, that fish is neither so easily digested 
 nor assimilated to the human system as flesh. Besides, 
 that in some particular constitutions, fish not only dis- 
 agrees with the stomach, producing flatulence, sickness, 
 and vomiting, but occasions great general disorder, a 
 short but regular paroxysm of fever, and an eruption re- 
 sembling the nettle rash, the general practice of using 
 higher seasonings and sauces with fish, and the custom 
 so common in our own country of taking a dram after 
 this kind of food, show plainly enough what is the gene- 
 ral experience of mankind with regard to the alimentary 
 properties of fish. 
 
 Notwithstanding this, many fish afford an aliment abun- 
 dantly wholesome, and sufficiently nourishing, to most 
 people. And, from being less stimulant, they are, in 
 some cases, better adapted to the sick and convalescent, 
 than the richer aliment of flesh. 
 
 The red-blooded fish, and those which abound in oil, 
 are more stimulant, and more nutritive, than the white- 
 blooded. But they arc also heavier, and more apt to dis- 
 agree with the stomach, especially of the delicate and 
 dyspeptic. The cod and whiting, for example, afford a 
 much lighter aliment than the salmon, the eel, the mack- 
 arel, and herring. Sea fish are also, upon the whole, 
 more nourishing and more palatable, than those which 
 inhabit the rivers and fresh water. 
 
 A very great variety of fish is in different parts of 
 the world assumed as aliment. But it is enough to have 
 marked the general qualities of this kind of food. And 
 indeed there seems so little real difference in the ali- 
 mentary properties of those genera and species com- 
 monly employed, that to be more particular than we have 
 been, would be an useless and unprofitable labour, even 
 could we do this with any tolerable degree of certainty. 
 We add the following list without any farther com- 
 ment. 
 
 Murxna anguilla Eel. 
 
 Conger Conger eel. 
 
 Ammodytes Tobianus .... Sand eel. 
 
 Gadus Morrhtia Cod. 
 
 Mglefnus Haddock. 
 
 Merlangus Whiting. 
 
 Callarias Torsk. 
 
 Molva Ling- 
 
 Zeus Faber Dory.
 
 ALIMENTS. 
 
 495 
 
 Pkuronecien Bip/io§iosu» . . Hollbul. 
 Platessa .... Piaisc. 
 Flcsus .... Flounder. 
 Limanda .... Dab. 
 
 Pleuronectis Solea Sole. 
 
 Maximus . ■ • Turbot. 
 Pcrca FluviatUis ....... Perch. 
 
 Scomhtr Scomber Mackarel. 
 
 Multus Barbatus Ret] sunnuUet. 
 
 Surmulletus Striped surmullet. 
 
 Cobitis Barbatula ..... Loach. 
 
 Salino Salar Salmon. 
 
 Fario Trout. 
 
 Aljnnus Charr. 
 
 Salinarinus Salmon trout. 
 
 Efierlanus Smelt. 
 
 Esox Lucius Pike. 
 
 Mugil Cc/iha/us Mullet. 
 
 Clii/iea Harengus Herring. 
 
 S/irattus ...... Sprat. 
 
 jilosa Shad. 
 
 Encrasicolus Anchovy. 
 
 Cyfirinus Car/iio Carp. 
 
 Gobio Gudgeon. 
 
 Tinea Tench. 
 
 Cefihalus Chub. 
 
 Lenciscus Dace. 
 
 Rutilus Roach. 
 
 Braina Bream. 
 
 Accijie7iser Huso ^ Sturgeon— —Isln- 
 
 Sturio 5 glass fish. 
 
 Kaia Bads Skate. 
 
 P ctromijzon Marinus .... Lamprey. 
 
 The different species of the genus cancer, viz. 
 
 Cancer Pagurus Crab. 
 
 Gaminarius Lobster, 
 
 Astacus Craw fish, 
 
 Serratus Prawn, 
 
 Crangan ..... Shrimp, 
 
 Squilla White shrimp, 
 
 are the only animals of this order employed with us as 
 aliment. 
 
 The flesh of these bears a close resemblance in fla- 
 vour, colour, and texture, to fish, from which, indeed, 
 they do not greatly differ in alimentary properties. 
 There is little or no oil in their composition; and they 
 are said to yield less ammonia during their decomposi- 
 tion than flesh or fish do. They are in general of 
 more difficult digestion, and are allowed to afford 
 less nourishment. The meat contained in the body 
 of the crab is rich, high flavoured, more stimulant, 
 and probably more nutritive, but extremely heavy, 
 and apt to disagree with the stomach and bowels. The 
 flesh within the claws is lighter and more whole- 
 some. The lobster is esteemed more delicate and 
 palatable than the crab. It is also moderately nourish- 
 ing, but not very digestible. Both indeed, are apt 
 in some constitutions to occasion great disorder, colic, 
 febricula, heat, itching, and efflorescence of the skin. 
 The craw-fish is in alimentary properties similar to the 
 lobster. The prawn and shrimp are delicate and well 
 flavoured foods of the same kind. The decoction or 
 broth of the three last is much used on the continent, 
 and much extolled, though without any sufficient reason, 
 as purifying and restorative. 
 
 Of the testaceous vermes or shell-fish, not many are 
 assumed as articles of diet. Those best known are the 
 following : 
 
 Cardium edule The cockle. 
 
 Ostrta eduiis The oyster. 
 
 Myfilus eduiis The mussel. 
 
 Helix Pomatia The snail. 
 
 These abound in soft mucous and albumious matter, co- 
 agulable by heat, on which their alimentary powers 
 would seem to depend. They furnish us witli almost 
 the only example of any animal food that is ever 
 eaten in the raw, and even living state. Of these, 
 the best is unquestionably the oyster. The oyster is 
 highly esteemed in the raw and live state ; and with 
 the healthy and robust stomach it commonly agrees 
 well. But with the weak and dyspeptic, it oftea 
 occasions considerable disorder, and does not appear 
 to be easily digested. Indeed, there are many, whose 
 stomachs do not appear faulty in other respects, who 
 cannot digest raw oysters, and yet bear them well 
 enough when roasted, stewed, or boiled. They appear, 
 therefore, to be upon the whole more generally whole- 
 some and digestible in the last state than raw. A few 
 raw oysters eaten before dinner, appear sometimes to 
 increase the appetite, an effect which is to be attri- 
 buted rather to the salt than to the oyster itself. 
 The nourishment afforded by this kind of food does 
 not appear to be vci-y great. Where they do not dis- 
 agree with the stomach, oysters are therefore some- 
 times usefully taken as a light restorative aliment 
 by the feeble and consumptive, when more stimulant and 
 nourishing food would be improper. The other shell- 
 fish are similar in alimentary properties to the oyster, 
 though greatly inferior in delicacy and flavour, and 
 much less fitted to be eaten raw. The mussel, in par- 
 ticular constitutions, has occasioned distressing, and 
 even dangerous symptoms ; sickness and pain of the 
 stomach, violent retching, fever, heat, pain, swelling 
 of the eyes, face, mouth, and throat, and erysipelatous 
 inflammation of the skin. This effect has been attri- 
 buted not to the mussel itself, but to a small species 
 of asterias, the ojihiura, which takes possession of it in 
 the months of July and August. But as similar dis- 
 order is occasionally produced by the lobster, by the 
 mackarel, and some other fish ; and as we have known 
 one out of several wlio had eaten of the same parcel of 
 mussels, to be alone affected, while the others escaped 
 uninjured, we are rather disposed, with Dr Cullen, to 
 refer this occurrence to the particular idiosyncracy of 
 individuals. 
 
 4. Scarcely any of the various alimentary substances 
 employed by man are used in the raw and crude state 
 in which they are presented to him by nature. Almost 
 all of them are previously subjected to some kind of 
 preparation or change, by which, for the most part, they 
 are rendered more wholesome, and more digestible, 
 sometimes more nutritive. Accordingly, the observa- 
 tions we have made on the properties of different ali- 
 ments, are to be considered as applied to them in the 
 state in which they are commonly used by civilized na- 
 tions. It only remains then, that we add a very few 
 words on the nature and general effect of those prepa- 
 rations to which our aliment is subjected; without, how- 
 ever, entering upon any detail that may trench on the 
 province of the cook.
 
 496 
 
 ALIMENTS. 
 
 The picpamlory changes to which oui food is usiuiUy 
 subjected, uic produced by the application of heat, and 
 by the admixture of water, and of condiments or sea- 
 sonings. 
 
 By the application of heat to vegetables, the more 
 volatile and watery parts arc in some cases dissipated. 
 The different principles, according to their peculiar 
 properties, are extracted, softened, dissolved, or co- 
 agulated ; but most commonly they are forced into new 
 combinations, so as to be no longer distinguishable by 
 the forms and properties which they formerly pos- 
 sessed. 
 
 When, in the preparation of bread, a baking heat is 
 applied to the paste formed of flour and water, a com- 
 plete change is effected in the constituent principles of 
 this mixture, so that in making the analysis of bread, 
 the proximate ingredients of llour are not to be found 
 in it. A new suljstancc, bread, has been produced, which 
 is more digestible in the human stomach, more whole- 
 some, and more nutritive, than the materials from which 
 it was formed. 
 
 In like manner, the leguminous seeds, and farina- 
 ceous roots, arc greatly altered by the application of 
 heat. The raw potatoe, for example, is watery, ill 
 flavoured, extremely indigestible, and even unwhole- 
 some. By roasting or boiling, it becomes dry, friable, 
 farinaceous, sweet and agreeable to the taste, whole- 
 some, digestible, and highly nutritive. Little is lost, 
 and nothing is added to the potatoe by this prepara- 
 tion ; yet its properties are greatly changed ; its princi- 
 ples, in short, have suffered a derangement and new col- 
 location. 
 
 Other examples of such change are presented to us, 
 in the boiling, roasting, and baking of many fruits; 
 in which processes we sometimes find acid destroyed, 
 saccharine matter formed, mucilage and jelly extracted, 
 and combined anew, so that the product shall be more 
 palatable, wholesome, and nourishing, than the raw ma- 
 terial. 
 
 Even in the simple boiling of the various pot-herbs, 
 and esculent roots, the efl'ect does not seem con- 
 fined to the mere softening of the fibres, the solution 
 of some, and coagulation of other of their juices and 
 principles ; not their texture only, but their flavour 
 and other sensible qualities have undergone a change, 
 by which their alimentary properties have been im- 
 proved. 
 
 In general, vegetable substances, after having been 
 thus prepared, are more wholesome, less flatulent, and 
 more digestible than in their crude state. 
 
 The changes produced in annual substances pre- 
 pared for our tables, by heat, are different according to 
 the manner in which it is applied, in the various pro- 
 cesses of roasting, baking, frying, broiling, stewing, and 
 boiling. 
 
 In the usual way of roasting meat, there is little loss 
 of the succulent or nutritive principles of the flesh ; they 
 are not even greatly changed, for if the meat have not 
 been overdone, they may still be obtained from it by 
 the usual modes of analysis. Some changes, however, 
 both of texture and composition it has certainly suffer- 
 ed. It is more tender than before, and much higher 
 flavoured. Roasting seems therefore the simplest, and, 
 upon the whole, the best mode of preparing the flesh of 
 animals. It is wholesome and highly nourishing, and 
 in general more easily digested than when prepared in 
 any other way. It is often found to sit more easily on 
 
 the stoniach, and to be sooner digested by the dyspeptic 
 and feeble, than boiled meat or broths. 
 
 By the methods of baking and stewing, the whole of 
 the alimentary principles are also preserved, but not un- 
 changed ; for in these processes, by the longer continu- 
 ance of heat and moisture, llie meat is more disorga- 
 nized, the jelly, oil, and albumen, arc separated, dis- 
 solved, mixed, or combined anew. Tliese preparations 
 arc accordingly savoury, rich, and glutinous, very nou- 
 rishing, without doubt, but not near so easily digested 
 as meat simply roasted or boiled. Above all, the whole 
 variety of stews, meat pyes, and the like, are extremely 
 apt to disagree with, and disorder the stomachs of the 
 gouty and dyspeptic. 
 
 In boiling, part of the soluble principles is always ex- 
 tracted by the water; but if the process have not been 
 carried too far, the flesh is still sufliciently succulent 
 and juicy, and at the same time veiy tender, abundantly 
 nourishing, and by most people easily enough digested. 
 Boiled meat has less flavour than roasted, and appears 
 to be somewhat less stimulant. Over-boiled meat, from 
 which the greater part of the soluble principles has been 
 extracted, is dry and insipid, less soluble in the stomach/ 
 and nmch less nutritious. 
 
 Boiling is also employed with the more immediate 
 intention of extracting and dissolving the more soluble 
 parts of animal matters, as in the preparation of soups, 
 broths, and jellies. These are necessarily lighter, or 
 more nourishing, according to the quality and parts of 
 the meat used in their preparation. 
 
 The lighter and less costly broths afford an aliment 
 abundantly wholesome. The richer soups are heavy, 
 and liable to all the inconveniences of stewed meats. 
 Though soups are less nourishing than the solid meat 
 from which they are extracted, they do not appear to 
 be always so easily digested ; and indeed, those who are 
 liable to stomach complaints, generally find that plain 
 roasted and boiled meat sits easier with them than any 
 kind of soup or broth. 
 
 Alimentary substances are still farther changed and 
 prepared by the admixture of condiments. These are 
 employed with a view to preserve aliments from spon- 
 taneous decomposition, or for the pui-pose of rendering 
 them more savoury and stimulating, and so to whet the 
 appetite, and promote digestion. 
 
 The different matters used for these purposes, may 
 be arranged under these heads: 
 
 1. Oily condiments . . Oil, butter, cream, fat. 
 
 2. Saccharine condiments Sugar, honey. 
 
 3. Acid condiments . . Vinegar, lime-juice. 
 
 4. Saline condiments . Marine salt, nitre. 
 
 5. Acrid condiments . . Aromatics, comprehend- 
 
 ing all the variety of spices, pepper, cloves, nut- 
 meg, cinnamon, £cc. 
 
 The first, second, and third kinds of condiments are 
 also alimentary, and their general properties as such 
 have been already noticed. 
 
 As condiments, the various oily substances are much 
 used along with vegetable food, particularly with the 
 farinacea and pot-herbs ; and by this combination, abun- 
 dantly wholesome and nourishing, vegetables are not 
 only rendered more sapid, but of more easy assimilation, 
 while they arc less apt to produce flatulency. With 
 fish, and the less sapid parts of other animal food, they 
 are also advantageously combined ; and in general it 
 may be said, the oily condiments cease to be wholesome
 
 ALIMENTS. 
 
 497 
 
 only when they have been mucli changed and decom- 
 posed by the application of heat in diflercnt processes 
 of cookery, as in liyiiig, broiling, baking, Sec. Aliments 
 thus prepared with oily condiments arc no longer so 
 wholesome. They are then very liable to disagree with 
 the stomach, which digests them with dillicully. 
 
 Sugar is an agreeable condiment, and wlien taken in 
 moderate cjiiantity, very wholesome. It is somewhat 
 aperient, and has considerable powers as an antiseptic. 
 It is often agreeably and usefully combined with the 
 farinacea, as esculent fruits, in the preparation of pud- 
 dings, tarts, conserves, &c. and sometimes in the com- 
 position of antiseptic sauces for animal food. 
 
 In larger quantities, sugar is extremely apt to dis- 
 agree with the stomach, producing nausea, loathing, 
 thirst, and general disorder of the primae via; ; but in 
 the quantities and combinations in which it is more 
 commonly used, it is generally wholesome enough. 
 
 Vinegar, the chief of the acid condiments, is a good 
 deal employed with animal fooil, to obviate its putres- 
 cency. It communicates an agreeable stimulus to the 
 stomach, and is found to promote appetite and digestion. 
 Accordingly, many kinds of food, as several varieties of 
 fish, shell-fish, oysters, &c. are found to agree gene- 
 rally better when used along with vinegar. It is also 
 employed in the preparation of vegetable pickles, the 
 qualities of which, indeed, depend almost entirely on 
 the vinegar and spice imbibed by them. 
 
 Common or sea salt, (murias sodae,) is, of all condi- 
 ments, the safest, best, and most extensively employed. 
 It is used by all nations, and indeed in some shape or 
 other by almost all animals whatever. It seems, in a 
 peculiar manner, designed to assist in the digestion and 
 assimilation of our food. In the quantity in which it is 
 usually taken, there is no reason to doubt, that many of 
 our aliments become thereby more wholesome and di- 
 gestible, as well as more agreeable. Like the other 
 condiments, however, in larger quantities, it is injurious 
 to the constitution. It occasions heat and thirst, and 
 seems rather to impede than to assist digestion. Be- 
 sides the usual culinary preparations in which salt is 
 advantageously employed, it is used also as an antisep- 
 tic, to preserve aliments from spontaneous decomposi- 
 tion, and particularly to prevent the putrefaction of ani- 
 mal food. In general, however, the large quantity of 
 salt which is necessarily employed in this way, deterio- 
 rates the alimentary properties of the meat ; and the 
 longer it has been preserved, the less wholesome and 
 digestible docs it become. It is this kind of food, salted 
 flesh, and fish, which so surely occasions the disease 
 called scurvy amongst sailors, and others, who are de- 
 prived of fresher and more wholesome aliment. Meat, 
 however, which has not been too long preserved, simply 
 pickled, or corned meat as it is called, is but little in- 
 jured or decomposed, is still succulent and tender, easily 
 digested, nourishing, and wholesome enough. 
 
 Salted and hung meat, and therefore all sorts of hams, 
 are more indigestible, and less nutritive. Sparingly 
 used with other food, they communicate indeed to it an 
 agreeable relish, and prove a stimulus to the stomach, 
 but their freer and more frequent use cannot be whole- 
 some. 
 
 They require in general all the powers of the most 
 robust stomachs. It is worthy of remark in this place, 
 that the fat of animals seems less injured as an aliment 
 by salting, than the lean parts. Bacon, therefore, though 
 
 Vol. i. Part II. 
 
 long preserved, is still a very nourislung aliment, though 
 not very easily iligested. 
 
 The acrid and aromatic condiments, commonly known 
 by the name of spices, should be at all times very spa- 
 ringly used. Undoubtedly, they communicate an agree- 
 able relish to many alimentary preparations; and in 
 some cases of debility of the digestive organs, they are 
 useful to excite the languid stomach, and to promote 
 digestion, and obviate flatulency. But by tliis forced 
 exertion, the stomach is eventually worn out, and far- 
 ther debilitated. The quantity of spice must now be 
 increased to secure the same cHett, and such a habit is 
 established, that the functions are but ill performed, 
 without the assistance of those adventiuous stimuli. 
 And tfius, the habitual use of these heating condiments 
 gives a disrelish for all simple and wholesome aliment, 
 lays the foundation of a long train of stomach com- 
 plaints, and of many consequent and more serious dis- 
 eases. For while the stomach yet retains its powers, 
 the appetite is forced by these condiments to all the ex- 
 cesses of a dangerous gluttony. 
 
 Upon the whole, the art of cookery should be limited 
 to the simplest preparations of our food ; then it is ne- 
 cessarily and advantageously employed ; but when occu- 
 pied in all the mysteries of mixture and decomposition, 
 in the total disorganization of alim.entary matters, in the 
 preparation of rich, savoury, and stimulating sauces and 
 condiments, it may indeed present us with a variety of 
 dishes flattering to the appetite, but fraught with danger 
 to the health, — a danger not the less certain, because it 
 is commonly slow and insidious. 
 
 S. Under the head of aliment, it has generally been 
 customary to include drinks. Nor would the subject 
 be complete, without some account of the nature and 
 use of these. But as the properties of the diflercnt 
 fluids employed as drinks will be more fully considered 
 in other parts of this work, we shall, in this place, con- 
 fine ourselves to a few very general remarks. 
 
 The different matters already described, as derived 
 from the animal and vegetable kingdoms, are those 
 which are properly alimentary, which furnish the ele- 
 ments for the formation and repair of the various orga- 
 nized parts of our sjstein. But as the chyle, the last 
 product of digestion, and the circulating mass itself, tue 
 source of all other formations, must be preserved In a 
 certain state of fluidity, a necessity arises for a consi- 
 derable quantity of watery fluid being taken along with 
 our more solid and nourishing food, to soften, digest, 
 and dissolve it. 
 
 Besides, though the most solid parts of our difTerent 
 organs appear subject to constant waste, and demand as 
 regular a renewal of what is carried away, by far the 
 greater part of the daily waste of the human body con- 
 sists of watery fluid. Thus, the loss which the system 
 suffers, has been estimated at an average of six pounds 
 in twenty-four hours, of which, according to the experi- 
 ments of Lavoisier, two pounds and thirteen ounces arc 
 transpired by the skin and limgs; and according to the 
 computation of Haller, forty -nine ounces, or three pounds, 
 are discharged by urine. We may fairly conclude from 
 these observations, that at least five-sixth parts of the 
 whole loss consists of the simplest fluid. Our most 
 solid aliments contain, indeed, a large proportion of wa- 
 ter, but still it is necessary that the body be directly 
 supplied with a larger quantity of this fluid. 
 3 R
 
 498 
 
 ALIMENTS. 
 
 Drink Ihen is rcrjnired to dilute, and to assist the di- 
 gestion and assiniilution oi the food, to preserve the due 
 iluidity of the chyle and of the blood, and on many oc- 
 casions directly to replace the large quantity of watery 
 fluid dissipated Ly the cutaneous, pulmonary, and uri- 
 nary secretions. Accordingly, it the stomach be oppres- 
 sed by the solidity or acrimony of the food, if the circu- 
 lating mass re(iuire dilution, or if there have been any 
 extraordinary dissipation of the fluids by the different 
 excrctories, we are advertised of the necessity of taking 
 drink by the appetite of thirst. 
 
 Water is the natural drink of man, and indeed of all 
 animals. It is also the most universally used; and 
 though others arc taken by a great proportion of man- 
 kind, it forms the basis of all of them, considered merely 
 as drinks. It is not only the safest and best drink, but, 
 however it may be disguised, water is perhaps the only 
 fluid which can answer all the purposes for which drink 
 is required. We would say, that it is the only iluid tlial 
 can be admitted directly and unchanged into the system. 
 Water is indeed not a simple element, but a compound, 
 as there is reason to believe, of oxygen and hydrogen, 
 two elements which assist in the formation of the solid 
 parts of our frame; and therefore water, like other se- 
 condary bodies, is liable to decomposition ; and we have 
 no doubt, that in the processes of digestion and assimi- 
 lation, it may, like other alimentary matters, be subjec- 
 ted to various changes. However this may be, it is cer- 
 tain that a large portion of the water received into the 
 stomach, is absorbed, and carried unchanged into the 
 circulating mass. The rapid absorption of water where 
 the demands of the system for it are great, and its early 
 re-appearance in the discharges by the skin and kidneys 
 after any considerable quantity of it has been taken, are 
 sufficient proofs of this, if indeed any were required. 
 
 But it does not appear that any other alimentary sub- 
 stance or drink besides watery fluid can be admitted by 
 the lacteals, before being changed by digestion. The 
 acid, saccharine, and mucilaginous matters which are 
 sometimes taken in along with water ; alcohol, and all 
 the narcotic drinks of which it forms a part ; the different 
 wines and ales, are digested and decomposed in the sto- 
 mach, and primse vis; they cannot be traced, or recog- 
 nized by any of their former qualities, eitlier in the 
 chyle or in the blood, not even in any of the secretions 
 or excretions ; they find no entrance therefore into the 
 system; and nothing belonging to them has been ab- 
 sorbed by the lacteals, besides their water, and the chyle 
 or nutritive product formed by a new collocation of their 
 elements. 
 
 ll'atcr we have considered as the only drink simply 
 diluent; and it forms the basis of all those which are 
 at the same time somewhat nourishing. Such are those 
 formed of water, and the farinaceous part of vegetables, 
 as toast and water, barley-water, gruels, and decoctions; 
 of water, and the sweet and acid juices of vegetables, 
 lemonade, See. ; of water slightly impregnated with the 
 alimentary parts of animals, whey, milk and water, 
 beef-tea, veal-tea, chicken-broth, &c. The properties 
 of these drinks may easily be understood from what has 
 Ijeen said of the nature of the different substances com- 
 bined with the water. Their value, as drinks, depends 
 entirely on the water; their other qualities, on the ad- 
 ditions which have been made to it. One of the most 
 common diluent, dietetic drinks of this country, is the 
 infusion of tea, rendered slightly nutritive by the addi- 
 tion of milk and sugar, Tea, however, is also narcotic, 
 
 or one of those drugs which aflect the nervous system 
 in a peculiar manner. The infusion of tea is indeed 
 gratefully stimulant to the stomach and nerves, and 
 gently exhilarating. It lessens the irritability, and 
 sooths the sensibility of the system. But it is more de- 
 structive to the health than is commonly imagined. To 
 the abuse of this drink, physicians have, on good ground, 
 attributed the great prevalence of nervous, liysterical, 
 and stomach complaints. 
 
 But mankind, in almost every country and every age, 
 have invented another class of drinks, the narcotic, and 
 intoxicating; the different fermented liquors, wines, 
 and ales; and the spirit procured from these by distilla- 
 tion. The general eflect of all these drinks is to stimu- 
 late and excite the energies of the system, and, in 
 larger quantities, to produce intoxication, and conse- 
 quent debility and derangement of all the functions. 
 This property, which is common to them all, depends 
 upon the alcohol or pure spirit which they contain. By 
 it the faculties of the mind, as well as tiie functions ol' 
 the body, are at first roused into more vigorous exer- 
 tion ; — the blood is made to circulate with greater rapi- 
 dity, an agreeable glow is diffused over the whole frame, 
 the senses are enlivened, the passions awakened, the 
 imagination becomes sportive, and joy and gladness fill 
 the soul. — But this agreeable paroxysm soon passes 
 away ; and the mind and body arc left in a greater state 
 of depression and languor than before. We speak not 
 here of the last stage of brutal intoxication, nor the se- 
 ries of degrading symptoms which mark its progress, — 
 as vertigo, maniacal fury, or fatuous delirium, faultering 
 tongue, tottering limbs, apoplectic insensibility !— death 
 itself I It is enough to observe, that the habitual abuse 
 of intoxicating drinks, even within the limits of what is 
 commonly deemed sobriety, is e(|Ually destructive to the 
 health of body and mind ; and that a frightful catalogue 
 of diseases, gout, apoplexy and palsy, madness and 
 fatuity, are commonly the consequences of greater ex- 
 cesses. 
 
 As powerful stimuli, ardent spirits are, in some cases 
 of languor and debility, advantageously employed ; but 
 their properties ill fit them for common and habitual 
 use. Nothing is more pernicious than the practice of 
 drinking spirits. It is a common enough belief, that a 
 dram after meals promotes digestion. But there cannot 
 be a more erroneous opinion. Those, indeed, who have 
 acquired this pernicious habit, may find, that, witliout 
 their usual stimulus, digestion goes tardily on. But this 
 only bespeaks the infirm and diseased state to which the 
 stomach has been reduced. For the digestion of the 
 healthy and unaccustomed is sure to be interrupted and 
 retarded by a dram. Common observation may satisfy 
 us of this. But the question has been submitted to direct 
 experiment by DrBeddoes, and he found that the ani- 
 mals to whom spirits had been given along with their 
 food, had digested nearly one half less, than other si- 
 milar animals from whom this stimulus had been with- 
 held. — Who, indeed, are so subject to stomach com- 
 plaints as dram-drinkers ? — They are not only the most 
 liable to ordinary and occasional stomach complaints, 
 but too commonly to permanent and incurable diseases 
 of that important organ. 
 
 The stimulant and intoxicating properties of vinous 
 and fermented liquors also depend upon the alcohol, or 
 pure spirit which they contain ; when used to excess, 
 they are therefore liable to all the objections we have 
 urged against the abuse of distilled spirits. But as, in-
 
 ALI 
 
 ALK 
 
 499 
 
 tlic fcrrajented vinous liquors, the alcohol is not only 
 much tlilutcd, but in a peculiar state of conibinuiion 
 with other principles, with the vegetable acids, sugar, 
 mucilage, and extractive matter, they are much less 
 destructive and pernicious than any oi the distilled 
 drinks. They arc also more digcslablc, and considera- 
 bly nutritive. The moderate use of some of these is 
 accordingly found, in many cases, highly advantageous.— 
 The smaller ales are refreshmg, gentiy stunulant, and 
 antiseptic drinks. — Porter, and the stronger ales, are ex- 
 ceedingly nutritious, and strengthening, when used witli- 
 in tlie limits of sobriety. 
 
 Wine is the best of all cordials. Moderately taken, 
 it is strengthening, nourishing, and exhilaratnig ; — but 
 it should never be forgotten, that the abuse, and even 
 the habitual use of wine, fatigues and wears out the 
 system which it seemed at first to strengthen and invi- 
 gorate ;-^and that gluttony and intemperance are the 
 fertile sources of two-thirds of the diseases which em- 
 bitter the short life of man. (<Ji) 
 
 ALIMENT, or Alimony in law,is the provision which 
 one person is obliged to make for the maintenance of 
 anotlier, connected with him by certain ties. A father 
 is obliged to support his sons till they reach the age of 
 twenty-one, and his daughters till their marriage; and 
 if the father dies, the mother, and even the grandfather 
 and grandmother are liable, in their turn, to the same 
 natural obligation. In the lower orders of society, the 
 obligation to aliment their children ceases when the 
 children are able to support themselves. The children 
 are also obliged to aliment their parents ; and the eldest 
 son, when he enjoys landed property as the representa- 
 tive of his father, is liable to support the younger chil- 
 dren. A life-renter of a landed estate is bound to sup- 
 port the heir of that estate, and the possessor of an en- 
 tailed estate is bound to aliment tlie next heir, by the 
 act of Grace, 1696, cap. 32. Every imprisoned debtor 
 is entitled to aliment from the creditors. A fund destined 
 for the aliment of any person cannot be assigned to ano- 
 ther, or arrested by his creditors. Alimentary debts 
 prescribe within three years. See Bell's Diet, of the 
 Law of Scotland, vol. i. p. 25. (^j) 
 
 ALIMENTARY Canal is that part of the body of all 
 animals through which the food passes for the purpose 
 of nutrition, comprehending the throat, stomach, and 
 intestines. See /■/«'/. Trans. 1700, 1701, vol. xxii. p. 776; 
 see also Anatomy, (^c) 
 
 ALIOTH, Allioth, or Aliath, the name given by 
 the Arabians to the first star in the tail of the Great 
 Bear, marked £ in our catalogues. It is of the third 
 magnitude, and is called Mi ar, by Bayer, [w) 
 
 ALIPILARIUS, an officer among the Romans, who 
 attended the baths in order to remove the fiilte, or hairs, 
 from the alx, or arm-pits, by means of waxen plasters, 
 and an instrument called volsella. They afterwards car- 
 ried their ideas of cleanliness much farther, and removed 
 the hairs also from their hands, legs, &c. The women 
 who were employed in this office were named Pkatrices 
 and Partiltrix. (nv) 
 
 ALIQUANT. See Aliquot. 
 
 ALIQUOT Part, is that part of any magnitude which 
 divides that magnitude, without leaving a remainder. 
 Thus 5 is an aliquot part of 1 5 ; and 6 an aliquot part of 
 24 ; and one inch is the aliquot part of one foot. When 
 one magnitude does not measure a greater one without 
 leaving a remainder, it is called the aliquant part of the 
 greater magnitude. Thus 9 is the aliquant part of 28. 
 
 Hence tKc aliqunt fiart of any magnitude, and the mag- 
 nitude itself, arc said to be commevsurablr, and tlu 
 alir/uant /mrt of any magnitude, and the magnitude it- 
 self arc said to be incommctmurablc. One magnitude, 
 however, n)ay be commensurable with another, without 
 being an aliquot part of it. {w) 
 
 ALISMA, or Water Plantain, a genus of plants 
 of the class Hexandria, and order Polygynia. See 
 Botany. (7y) 
 
 ALKAHEST, the name given by alchemists to the 
 universal menstruum or solvent. This term was first 
 used by Paracelsus, and altcrtvards liy Van Helmont. 
 who maintained, that he could prepare an alkahest capa- 
 ble of dissolvmg all substances into a simple fluid like 
 water. See Paracelsus dc Viribus Mrmbrurum ; Glau- 
 bcri, Oftcra, torn. 1. Boerhaave's C/uwix/nj, vol. ii. p. 
 153, 258. Eng. edit. 1735. Stahl's I'lutdami-nta C/iymiiC. 
 Part ii. p. 13,48, 198. Edit. 1746. Part iii. p. 10. Edit. 
 1747. Beccheri Phil. Physica, sect. iii. cap. 9. Junkeri, 
 Consfiectus Chymia, p. 77, 20. 634. Starkey's Pyrotech- 
 nia. (to) 
 
 ALKALIS are a class of chemical bodies distinguish- 
 ed by the following properties : They impress the tongue 
 with a peculiar acrid taste, which has been termed caus- 
 tic or urinous, a sensation commonly considered as the 
 contrary of sour; they have a strong affinity for water, 
 with which they combine with rapidity, and in great 
 quantity ; they change the blue vegetable colours to 
 green, the brown to yellow ; they corrode and dissolve 
 animal substances ; tiiey unite with the oils and fats, and 
 thus form the well-known compound, soap ; they com- 
 bine readily with several chemical agents, and particu- 
 larly with the acids, with which they form the neutral 
 salts ; they are capable of being fused and volatilized by 
 heat. 
 
 Some of these properties are discovered in two or 
 three of the earths; and two of these, barytes and stron- 
 tites, have been considered as alkalis by Vauquelin, 
 Fourcroy, and others of the French chemists. But this 
 arrangement has not been very generally received; be- 
 cause, as has been observed, if we admit these amongst 
 the alkalis, there is hardly any good reason for exclud- 
 ing lime, magnesia, and perhaps some other of the 
 earthy substances ; and because the greater solubility 
 and fusibility of the alkalis sufficiently distinguish them 
 from all these substances, which have also properties 
 common to themselves. If, however, as there is now 
 some reason to believe, the chemical composition of any 
 of these earths should turn out to be similar to that of 
 the alkalis, it is more than probable that they will be 
 universally acknowledged to belong to this class of che- 
 mical bodies. 
 
 The alkalis, hitherto acknowledged as such, are only 
 three in number; the two called fixed, potass and soda, 
 and the volatile alkali, or ammonia. Potass being obtain- 
 ed by lixiviation from the incinerated ashes of most ve- 
 getables, has also been distinguished as the vegetable 
 alkali ; while soda abounding in the mineral kingdom, 
 in common or sea salt, in the ashes of marine plants, 
 and found native in the soils of Egypt, Syria, and India, 
 has received the appellation of mineral alkali.* Both 
 
 * Both terms are highly improper, as each alkali is 
 found in the vegetable and mineral kingdoms : they 
 should therefore be entirely banished from chemical 
 works. CoxE. 
 
 3 R2
 
 500 
 
 ALKALIS. 
 
 tlitsc- alkulisure solid, and coiYipaialivcly fixed bodies; 
 aiiHiiouia, on the contrary, when pure, exists only in 
 the iraseous form; for liquid aninionia is nothing niore 
 than a solution ot this gas in water. Hence the name 
 of volatile allif.li. The great source of ammonia is the 
 decomposition of animal substances; but it is most rea- 
 dily obtained in its pure state by decomposing sal am- 
 moniac (muriate of ammonia) by lime. 
 
 An early experiment of Dr Priestley, by which he 
 demonstrated that the volume of puie ammoniacal gas 
 was greatly enlarged, and its properties totally changed 
 by the electric spark ; and the observations of Scheele 
 on the detonation of fulminating gold, sufficiently war- 
 ranted the conclusion, that this alkali was not a simple 
 but a compound body. Its real composition was at last, 
 in the year 1785, fully explained by BerthoUet, since 
 which time it has been generally acknowledged by che- 
 mists to be a compound of hydrogen and nitrogen. By 
 subjecting ammoniacal gas to the influence of the elec- 
 tric spark, or by passing it through heated porcelain 
 tubes, it is easily resolved into these two elements. Dr 
 Austin afterwards shewed, that ammonia might be di- 
 rectly formed by presenting nascent hydrogen to nitro- 
 gen gas, and so confirmed synthetically the analytical 
 proof of the composition of this alkali. 
 
 According to the best experiments, it has been con- 
 cluded, that 100 parts of ammonia are composed of 80 
 of nitrogen, and 20 of hydrogen. 
 
 The discovery of the composition of ammonia natu- 
 rally suggested a belief, that the other alkalis were also 
 compound bodies ; and as oxygen appeared to be the 
 universal principle of acidity, it was inferred by analogy, 
 that nitrogen or hydrogen might be the principle on 
 which depend the common properties of alkaline bodies. 
 Certain observations and experiments seemed even to 
 give more than probability to these conjectures. The 
 large and repeated productions of nitre (nitrate of pot- 
 ^ass,) from the artificial compost of animal matters, and 
 carbonate of lime, even after successive lixiviations, dis- 
 posed Chaptal to conclude that potass must be a com- 
 pound of lime and nitrogen. And from a converse ex- 
 periment, in which phosphate of lime was precipitated 
 from a solution of oxymuriate of potass and phosphoric 
 acid on the addition of ammonia, and in which there- 
 fore there was a seeming production of lime, Desormes 
 and Guyton inferred this to be a component part of 
 potass, and derived from its decomposition, and that 
 this alkali was a compound of lime and hydrogen. From 
 somewhat similar experiments, and from an observation 
 of Vauquelin on the existence of magnesia in the salsola, 
 from the ashes of which soda is more abundantly pro- 
 cured than from any other plant, it was in like manner 
 supposed that magnesia might be the basis of soda. 
 
 There were evident sources of error, indeed, in some 
 of these experiments ; and the conclusions respecting 
 the real composition of the alkalis were never regard- 
 ed as very satisfactory by chemists ; though it appeared 
 highly probable, tliat one or other of the component 
 principles of ammonia, that hydrogen or nitrogen en- 
 tered also into the composition of the other alkalis. 
 But no analogy had ever suggested a suspicion, that 
 oxygen, so long taken for the principle of acidity, was 
 also the only principle common to the alkaline bodies ; 
 or that these, like the acids, were compounds of com- 
 bustible bases and oxygen. Yet that this is the nature 
 and composition of the alkalis, now appears to be fully 
 established, by the late surprising and important dis- 
 
 coveries of the celebrated Mr Davy, who has succeed- 
 ed in decomposing the fixed alkalis, by : ubjectmg mem 
 to the action of the galvanic pile, and ascertained them 
 to be formed from the union of oxygen with highly com- 
 bustil)le metallic bases. It appears from Mr Davy's 
 experiments, 1st, That if dry potass, or soda, having its 
 surface slightly moistened to render it a conductor, be 
 placed on an insulated disc of platina, of gold, of any- 
 metal, of plumbago, or even of charcoal, co. ntcted with 
 the negative wire of the galvanic apparatus, and the 
 positive wire applied to the upper surface ot ine alkali, 
 a violent action takes place, with effervescence from 
 this surface, occasioned by a rapid discharge of pure 
 oxygen gas, while from the lower, or negative suriace, 
 there emerge small brilliant globules perfectly resem- 
 bling those of quicksilver ; and, 2dly, that these globules 
 rapidly attract oxygen from the atmosphere, or from 
 pure oxygen gas, and reprodu(;e the alkali from which 
 they were obtained; and that when heat is applied to 
 them with oxygen gas in close tubes, tliey burn rapidly 
 with a brilliant white flame, absorb the gas, witliout 
 giving out any thing, and are converted into alkalis, the 
 potass metal always forming potass, and the soda metal, 
 soda. Thus, the composition of the fixed alkalis is 
 satisfactorily demonstrated both by analysis and synthe- 
 sis. To these new discovered metallic bases Mr Davy 
 has given the names of potassium and sodium. Both 
 have the lustre and the distinguishing chemical proper- 
 ties of metallic bodies, with which they have therefore 
 been classed, though in one of their physical proper- 
 ties they are very different. For these are amongst the 
 lightest of solid or fluid substances ; the specific gravity 
 of potassium being to that of water as 6 to 10, that of 
 sodium as 9 to 10. Potassium, at the temperature of 
 32", is crystallized, at 50° malleable, and at 60° more 
 fluid than mercury. Sodium is not quite so fluid ; it 
 melts only at 120", and its fluidity is perfect at 180°. 
 The affinity of both for oxygen is so great, that they at- 
 tract it from, and decompose, most bodies containing it. 
 They burn spontaneously in oxymuriatic acid gas ; de- 
 compose and thus discover the smallest quantity of 
 water in alcohol, aether, or oil ; decompose also the 
 sulphuric and nitrous acids, seize the oxvgen of one 
 portion of acid, and are converted into alkalis, which 
 combine with the remaining acid, and form sulphates 
 and nitrates ; and they amalgamate with mercury and 
 other metals. Potassium effects these decompositions 
 with more rapidity and brilliancy than sodium does. 
 From several experiments approximating in general 
 result, Mr Davy concludes, that the alkali potass is 
 composed of six parts of potassium and one of oxygen ; 
 soda of seven pans of sodium and two of oxygen. 
 
 Having thus discovered that oxygen was the common 
 principle of the fixed alkalis, there was every reason to 
 infer that it entered also into the composition of ammo- 
 nia ; and a number of satisfactory experiments instituted 
 by Mr Davy, with the view of determining this, have 
 enabled him to conclude, that ammonia does in truth 
 contain from seven to e\g\]t/irr cent, of oxygen. 
 
 The prosecution of these experiments has already, we 
 understand, discovered to Mr Davy the nature and com- 
 position of the alkaline earths, that these too are com- 
 posed of combustible bases and oxygen. In this case, 
 we must, with the French chemists, reckon at least five 
 alkalis, — potass, soda, ammonia, barytes, and strontites. 
 
 These results, not yet sufficiently familiarized, and at 
 war with all our late anticipations of the nature and com-
 
 ALK 
 
 ALK 
 
 501 
 
 posiiion of the alkalis, still surprise us. But wc must 
 now conclude, that the basis of the pure and conibura- 
 ting part of the atnwspherc is not less alk-alii;fn than oxy- 
 gr/i, nay, that the" oxydes, acids and alkalis are alike 
 composed ol combustible bases and oxygen. See J^/iil. 
 Trans, for 18u8, Part I. and Nos. 89. and 90. of Nichol- 
 sons Juurnal, and Chemistuy. (<?)* 
 
 ALKALIMETER, tiie name of an instrument invent- 
 ed by Descrojzilles for ascertaining the purity of the 
 alkalis of commerce, by determining how many cen- 
 tiemes of their weight they recjuirc of sulphuric acid 
 for their saturation. See .innalcs de C/iimk; torn. ix. p. 
 \7. or P/iil. iMag. vol. xxviii. p. 174. (o) 
 
 ALKANNET, a colouring root which grows in great 
 quantities in Langueiloc, and in other parts of the south 
 of Europe. Tnis root is of great use in forming colour- 
 ed varnishes, as it easily parts witli its deep red colour 
 to alcohol, the fixed and essential oils, wax, and other 
 unctuous bodies. See jinc/iusa, Botany. 
 
 ALKENDI, Jacob Ebn Isaac, a learned Arabian, 
 who flourished at the commencement of the ninth cen- 
 tury, under the caliphate of the learned and generous 
 Almamon. His attainments in literature and philoso- 
 phy obtained for him, at an early age, the honourable 
 epithet of "The Philosopher;" and though he employ- 
 ed himself chiefly in illustrating the pnilosophy of Aris- 
 totle, his attention was also devoted to the liberal sci- 
 ences. Alkendi seems to have made considerable ad- 
 vancement in the sciences of mathematics and astrono- 
 my, and his medical writings acquired him high repu- 
 tation among the Arabian physicians. We are indebt- 
 ed to Abulfaragius for a very instructive anecdote re- 
 specting Alkendi, which exhibits one of the finest 
 features of a great and amiable mind. When visiting 
 the schools of Bagdad, in compliance with the custom 
 
 * According to this view of the subject, oxygen, like 
 the traveller in the fable, is capable of blowing hot and 
 cold with the same breath ! This extraordinary agent is, 
 we see, the principle of acidity as well as of alkalescence ! 
 Surely we may be allowed to doubt the possibility of 
 two such opposite effects resulting from one and the 
 same cause. Under the head of acids, it has been at- 
 tempted to shew, that oxygen alone is inadequate to the 
 acidification of different bases. Although it is consider- 
 ed as absolutely essential to the completion of this pro- 
 cess, it was at the same time contended, that hydrogen 
 (or phlogiston) was equally necessary. Whilst some 
 metallic bodies are capable of acidification, as arsenic, 
 molybdena, chrome, Sec, we find others, as stated in the 
 text, capable of alkalization ; but, these two opposite 
 effects can scarcely, with safety be ascribed to the same 
 cause. It would appear from Davy's experiments, that 
 those bodies, which by combustion are converted into 
 alkalies, have united to oxygen only ; and consequently 
 we must infer, that oxygen is, strictly the principle upon 
 which such change depends ; but in the formation of 
 acids, hydrogen is likewise a constituent. 
 
 It is probable, that the numerous discoveries of chem- 
 istry, will render it necessary to alter entirely, the pre- 
 sent arrangement of the bodies which are the subjects 
 of chemical investigation. Amongst these changes, 
 since the alkalies and earths are found to be metallic ; 
 we shall have to divide the class of metals, into metals 
 properly so called, and into those which are capable of 
 acidification or alkalization. Coxe. 
 
 ol the limes, Alkendi took occasion to recommend the 
 study of philosopliy, and to reconcile the doctrines of 
 Mahomet with tlie principles of reason. Albumasar, 
 one of the interpreters of the Alkoran, was offended 
 with the liberality of his sentiments, and dreaded that 
 the diffusion of knowledge would sap the foundation of 
 their holy faith. He charged Alkendi as the promoter 
 of heresy and impiety ; and, animated by a wild and mis- 
 taken zeal, he even formed a plan against the life of 
 the philosopher. When this murderous design was 
 detected, and communicated to Alkendi, it did not 
 awaken in his breast a spirit of resentment and revenge. 
 By his influence with Almamon, he might have taken 
 signal vengeance against the enemy of his life, but he 
 chose rather to punish him by the generosity and mild- 
 ness of his conduct. Expecting to subdue the mind of 
 Albumasar by the precepts of wisdom, he engaged a 
 teacher to instruct him in mathematics and philosophy. 
 The mind of the Mahometan priest was soon changed; 
 he saw the errors of his conduct, and lamented the 
 harshness with which he had treated Alkendi; and 
 offering himself as a disciple of the philosopher whom 
 he had persecuted, he was kindly received and sincerely 
 forgiven, and becaine one of the brightest ornaments to 
 the school of Alkendi. — What a lesson of moderation to 
 the bigots of the present age 1 Superstition and heresy 
 flourish only when they are opposed : Under the mild 
 sway of toleration, they languish and decline. It is the 
 tyranny of the winds that raises the ocean from its 
 peaceful level, and arms it with power to destroy. Let 
 the persecuting tempest cease, and it becomes the most 
 harmless of the elements. 
 
 A catalogue of the writings of Alkendi is given in the 
 MS. History of Philosophers referred to by Dr Russel. 
 It does not, however, contain a treatise usually ascribed 
 to him, and translated into Latin, under the title of " De 
 Alcdicinarian comfionitarum gradibus invcsligandis." See 
 Russel's Hist, of J/c/i/io, vol. ii. App. p. 9. Enfield's 
 Hist, of Pliilos.\o\. ii. p. 237. See Almamon. (/3) 
 
 ALKERMES, the name of a confection made of the 
 kermcs, celebrated for its influence in curing diseases. 
 See Pliil. Trans. No. 20. (■-«) 
 
 ALKOHOL, or Spirit of Wine, is a perfectly lim- 
 pid and colourless fluid obtained by distillation from 
 all fermented intoxicating liquors. See Chemistry, (to) 
 
 ALKORAN, or The Koran, (y// being the Arabic 
 article,) the name of the Mohammedan scriptures, con- 
 taining the doctrines, precepts, and pretended revela- 
 tions of Mohammed. Derived from the Arabic verb 
 kaara, to read, it signifies the reading, or rather 'lu/iat 
 ought to be read. The Mohammedans give this name 
 not only to the whole volume, but to any particular chap- 
 ter or section of it ; in the same way as the Jews call 
 the Old Testament, or any portion of it, Karah and 
 Mikra. 
 
 According to Mohammed's own account, the Koran 
 was revealed to him in different portions, and at different 
 times, during the space of twenty-three years. These 
 he dictated to an amanuensis, who wrote them on skins 
 and on palm-leaves, and then published them to his fol- 
 lowers, some of whom took copies of them for their 
 private use, though the greater number committed 
 them to memory. They were arranged in their present 
 order, by Abu-Bekr, his immediate successor, who col- 
 lected the originals from the chest into which they had 
 been promiscuously thrown, compared them w ith several 
 written and oral copies ; and when the transcript was
 
 502 
 
 ALKOllAN. 
 
 completed, dciiubucd it v.iili ilussu, the daughter of 
 Omar, one of tlic prophet's widows. This was intend- 
 ed to be consulted as lUe original ; and in the 30lh year 
 of the liegira, the Caliph Olhman, on accour.t of the 
 vast number of various readings which the copies cir- 
 culated throuyjii the empire contained, ordered these to 
 he suppressed, and several copies to be made from this 
 original transcript, which were published as the only- 
 authentic Koron. To secure this sacred volume from 
 interpolations, the Mohammedans have, in imitaiion ot 
 the Masorites, computed all the wends, and even letters, 
 ■which it contains, and have also introduced vowel points, 
 to fix both the pronunciation and the meaning of the 
 words. 
 
 This pretended revelation is so unsupported by any 
 evidence of inspiration or miracles ; full of such palpa- 
 ble inconsistencies and contradictions, disgraced by so 
 many irrational, and even licentious doctrines, and mark- 
 ed by such a superstitious and intolerant spirit, that it is 
 impossible to conceive that any but Mohatumedans can 
 believe its origin to be divine. By those, however, who 
 are reckoned the orthodox disciples of Islatnism, it is 
 held to be eternal and uncreateil, remaining, as some 
 express it, in the very essence of God, written from 
 everlasting, on an iminense table, called The Preserved 
 Table, near God's throne, from which a copy, taken on 
 paper in one volume, was sent down to the lowest hea- 
 ven by the ministry of the angel Gabriel, in the month 
 of Ramadan, on the night of power, whence it was com- 
 municated by the same angel to Mohammed in various 
 parcels, according to the exigency of his circumstances ; 
 though once every year, and twice in the last year of 
 his life, he was blessed with a sight of the whole volume, 
 elegantly bound in silk, and adorned with gold and jew- 
 els of paradise. Yet though this is the opinion of the 
 Sonnites or orthodox, it is by no means universally re- 
 ceived as accordant with truth : several Mohammedan 
 sects, and particularly the Motazalites, expressly deny- 
 ing the Koran to be uncreated, and accusing those who 
 maintain the contrary of infidelity, as asserting the ex- 
 istence of two eternal beings. 
 
 The style of the Koran has been generally allowed to 
 be singularly elegant and pure, being written in the 
 dialect of the tribe of Koreish, by far the most refined 
 of all the Arabians, though occasionally mixed with 
 other dialects. It is still the standard of the Arabic 
 language ; and to its supereminent excellence, as a 
 literary production, Mohammed himself appealed as a 
 sufficient proof of its inspiration, publicly defying the 
 most eloquent of his countrymen to produce even a sin- 
 gle chapter that might be compared with it. Some of 
 his followers even venture to affirm, that the composi- 
 tion of the Koran is a greater miracle than the raising of 
 the dead, being permanent and perpetual, and thus pos- 
 sessing throughout every age, the same force and evi- 
 dence, as when originally promulgated. There have 
 not been wanting some, however, who have called in 
 question this opinion, and who do not hesitate to give a 
 decided preference above this vaunted production to the 
 compositions of others ot their countrymen, who made 
 no such claims to inspiration. Nor can it be denied, that 
 sublime as several parts of it are, even these are greatly 
 inferior to many parts of the inspired writings of the 
 Christian revelation. The slightest examination of its 
 contents will convince any impartial mind, that it has no 
 pretensions to originality of sentiment, except it be 
 I hat of mingling falsehood with truth, and meanness 
 
 with sublimity, in a manner more preposterous than was 
 ever attempted before; and that its most dignified pas- 
 sages and elegant metaphors are evidently borrowed 
 from the ilebrew Scriptures. 
 
 The Koran possesses this striking peculiarity, that il 
 bears witness to the truth, while it propagates a lie 
 Though itself founded on imposture, it professes to ac 
 knowledge lioth Judaism and Christianity as true ; ad- 
 mits the miracles both of the Old and New Testament , 
 and affects to reverence the authority of Moses and ol 
 Christ, though it charges their disciples with interpola- 
 ting and corrupting those Scriptures, which in commor' 
 with them it professes to revere. It allows that Jesus 
 was the true Messias, the word and breath oi God, a 
 worker of miracles, a preacher of heavenly doctrine, and 
 an example of perfect virtue ; but denies that he was 
 crucified, affirming that the traitor Judas was changed 
 into his likeness and put to death in his stead, though it 
 asserts that he was miraculously carried up into heaven 
 by the ministry of angels, and that his religion was res- 
 tored to its primitive simplicity by Mohammed, the seal 
 of the prophets, with the addition of peculiar laws and 
 ceremonies, of which some are new, and others only re- 
 vived institutions. Scarcely a circumstance connect- 
 ed with the history either of Judaism or of Christianity 
 accords with the simple narratives of the sacred his- 
 torians : being constantly embellished with the puerile 
 fictions of Rabbinic tradition, or borrowed from the 
 scarcely less absurd representations of the apocryphal 
 gospel of Barnabas ; a work, which seems to have been 
 originally forged by heretical Christians, and afterwards 
 interpolated to favour the views of Mohammed and his 
 followers. To the reveries of the Persian magi, and the 
 heterodox opinions, and particularly the Arianism of the 
 Arabian Christians, tlie Koran is also indebted for many 
 of its doctrinal tenets ; whilst it denounces the wrath of 
 the Eternal against all who presume to doubt its au- 
 tliority and truth. From these varied fragments of 
 truth and falsehood, collected into one mass, tiie temple 
 of Islamism was reared by the hand of a cunning and 
 ambitious impostor, who, studying the dispositions of 
 those whom he invited to enter into it, or subduing their 
 opposition by the power of the sword, at length succeed- 
 ed in establishing its worship among a people who till 
 then had been at variance with one another, on almost 
 every point of religious belief. 
 
 With these features of its origin, the avowed object of 
 the Koran exactly corresponds. This was to unite the 
 professors of the three different religions then prevalent 
 in Arabia, viz. Idolaters, Jews, and Christians, in the 
 knowledge and worship of one God. Accordingly, the 
 great doctrine which it frequently repeats, and enforces 
 by the most awful threatenings, is this, " There is but one 
 God, and Mohammed is his Profihet" Pretending that 
 the chief design of his mission was to restore the doc- 
 trine of the divine unity, he laid it down as a funda- 
 mental truth, that there never was and never can be 
 more than one true orthodox religion ; and, to promote 
 his object, affirmed, that when the essentials of this re- 
 ligion became neglected, or corrupted, God was pleased 
 to revive and correct it by the ministry of several pro- 
 phets, of whom Moses and Jesus were the most dis- 
 tinguished, till Mohammed himself appeared. His 
 plans of proselytism, combined with his ambition to sub- 
 ject the nations to the sway of his power as a temporal 
 sovereign, led him also to incorporate many civil and po- 
 litical regulations with the religious and moral pre-
 
 ALK 
 
 ALL 
 
 503 
 
 cepts of the Koran. Accordingly, besides prohibiting 
 murder, ibrniciuion, udultery, theft, &c. and stroiiijly 
 inculcating the duties of almsgiving, and even general 
 benevolence ; it forbids gaming, usury, lots, and the use 
 of wine and certahi meats ; and enjoins the obligation of 
 making war against infidels ; assuring those wlio fight 
 under .he banners of tile prophet, that paradise shall be 
 their poilion, and denouncing tlie most dreadful punish- 
 ments against the faint-hearted and unbelieving. It also 
 contains laws respecting marriage and divorce, oaths, 
 legacies, wills, inheritances, and the payment of civil 
 debts. " The Koran," therefore, " is not like the Ciospel, 
 to be considered merely as the standard, by which the 
 religious opinions, tbe worship, and the practice of its 
 followers are regulated, but as also a political system : 
 on this loundation the throne itself is erected ; from 
 hence every law of the state is derived ; and by this au- 
 thority every question of life and of property is finally 
 decided." 
 
 Of this book of perfection, as the Mohammedans call 
 it, wc can scarcely read a chapter without discovering 
 passages so contradictory to each other, that no ingenuity 
 can possibly reconcile them. Yet for this they have a most 
 convenient and effectual remedy in the doctrine of 
 abrogai ion, by which their Prophet himself represented 
 the Supreme Being, as finding it necessary to revise, 
 and even to revoke certain parts of this divine work, 
 notwithstanding the declaration which it contauis, that, 
 if it be contradictory in its positions, it cannot be the 
 Avork of God. Than this, a grosser imposition was cer- 
 tainly never attempted to be practised on the credulity 
 of mankind. Had the passages that are abrogated been 
 precisely defined in the book itself, some defence might 
 have been made of these contradictions ; but the reader 
 is left to ascertain for himself, which of them ought to be 
 preferred as the latest, and consequently the most au- 
 thoritative revelation. 
 
 The Koran is divided into 114 sections, or chapters, 
 called in the original suras ; distinguished not by being 
 numbered, but by particular titles taken either from the 
 subject, or from the first important word of the section. 
 These suras are subdivided into smaller portions, or ver- 
 ses, called ayat-, signs or wonders ; many of which have 
 also particular titles, similar to those of the suras. Be- 
 side these unequal divisions of chapter and verse, it is 
 divided into 60 equal portions, or ahzab, each of which 
 is again subdivided into four equal parts ; though most 
 commonly, it is divided into 30 equal sections, called 
 yza, subdivided like the former. These, like the Rab- 
 binic divisions of the Mishna, are for the use of the rea- 
 ders in the royal temples, and the chapels adjoining the 
 cemeteries of the great; to every one of which 30 rea- 
 ders belong, who each reads a section ; so that the 
 whole Koran is read over once every day. Immediately 
 after the title, at the head of every chapter, except the 
 ninth, the following solemn form, called The Bismitlah, 
 is prefixed. In the name oj the most merciful God ; a 
 form which some commentators consider as of divine 
 origin, though others believe it to be a human addition ; 
 and which the IMohammedans constantly place at the 
 beginning of all their books, as a peculiar and dis- 
 tinguishing characteristic of their religion. Twenty- 
 nine of the chapters begin with certain letters of the 
 alphabet, which are regarded as peculiar inarks of 
 the Koran, and supposed to conceal some profound my- 
 steries, the certain knowledge of which has not been 
 imparted to any but their prophet. The abrogated 
 
 passages arc classed under three heads ; the first, 
 where both the letter and the sense are abrogated ; the 
 second, where the letter only is abrogated; and the 
 third, where the sense is abrogated, but not the letter. 
 
 The seven principal copies of the Koran are, two 
 that were published and used at Medina ; a third, at 
 Mecca ; a fourth, at Cufa ; a fifth, at Bassorah ; a sixth, 
 in vSyria ; and a seventh, from which the common edi- 
 tions are taken. The Mohammedans themselves have 
 translated their sacred volume into the Persic, the 
 Malayan,the Javan,and the Turkish languages; though, 
 out of respect to the original Arabic, these versions arc 
 generally interlineated. The most beautiful MSS. of the, 
 Koran to be found in Europe, are, (1.) One preserved 
 in the Museum Kircherianum, at Rome, supposed to 
 have been used by Solyman tlie Great. (2.) One in the 
 library of Christian of Sweden. (3) One in the im- 
 perial library at Vienna ; and, (l.) One with a com- 
 mentary, by Abi Saidi Rades, which was fuund among 
 the spoils of battle, at the defeat of the Turks in 1683, 
 by George, elector of Saxony. There arc others also, 
 and several of them in England, of exquisite beauty. 
 
 The first edition of the entire work in Arabic, was 
 published by Paganinus of Brescia, at Venice, in 1530 ; 
 but the whole edition was committed to the flames by 
 order of the Pope. It was afterwards printed by Hinck- 
 elman, at Hamburgh, in 1684. — The original' Arabic, 
 with a Latin version, and a partial confutation, was pub- 
 lished at Padua, in 1698, by Father Lewis Maracci, at 
 the instance of Pope Innocent XI. An edition of the 
 Arabic, in folio, with Scholia in the same lantcuagc, was 
 printed at Petersburgh, by the order of the late Em- 
 press ol Russia, for the use of her Mohammedan sub- 
 jects ; and on account of their prejudice against prin- 
 ted books, she had the types so cast as to give the ap- 
 pearance of manuscript to the impression. The first 
 Latin version, by a Christian, was made in 1143, by 
 Robertus Retenensis, an Englishman, with the assis- 
 tance of Hermannus Dalmata, at the request of Peter, 
 abbot of Clugny. It was published by Bibliander in 
 1550. About the end of the I5th century, it was trans- 
 lated into the Arragonian tongue, by Joannes Andreas, 
 (a convert from IVIohammedism,) at the command of 
 Martin Garcia, bishop of Barcelona, and inquisitor of 
 Arragon. Reineccius published a correct edition of 
 Maracci's translation, with notes, and an introduction, at 
 Leipsic, in 1721. The English translation of Sale was 
 first printed at London, in 1734 ; the German of Boysen, 
 at Halle, in 1773 ; and the Frencli of Savary, at Paris, in 
 1782. See Sale's Koran ; Alcoranus ex variis coUectus 
 turn fontibus tum /lahidibus, in Compend. Theat. 
 Orient, p. 20, &c. Prideaux's Life of Mahomet ; White's 
 Sermons at the Bampton Lecture ; Van IMildcrt's -Ser- 
 mons at Boyle's Lecture ; Butter's Ilorx JUhlica, torn, 
 ii. p. 103. See. 1807; and Reincccii Histona Alcorani, 
 Leips. 1721. (rf) 
 
 ALLAHABAD, in Geography, a province of Hindo- 
 stan, nearly 160 miles in length, and 120 in breadth. It 
 is bounded on the east by the division of Bahan ; on the 
 south, by that of Beran ; on the west, by Maleva and 
 Agra ; and on the north, by the district of Oude. Ac- 
 cording to the arrangement of the emperor Akber, to be 
 found in the Ayeen Akbcrry, it is distributed into 10 
 circars, or counties, and these again are divided into 177 
 pergunnahs, or hundreds. Its chief cities are Allahabad, 
 Benares, the ancient seat of Biaminical learning, and 
 Iconpour. If the statement of Mr IMaurice be correct-
 
 504 
 
 ALL 
 
 ALL 
 
 the province of Allaliabad contriljiilts 5,310,695 sicca ru- 
 pees to tlie revenue of the empire ; besides att'ord.nii; 523 
 elephants, 2j>7,S70 infantry, and 11,370 cavalry, to the 
 public service. The greater part of this extensive pro- 
 vince is now under tlie dominion of Azupli J)awla, a 
 tributary ally oi the ISrilish power. (//) 
 
 ALLAHAHAU, anciently I'racg, uv Phjaff, the capi- 
 tal of the province ot the same name, siaialed at the 
 confluence of the Jumna and Ganges. According to 
 Dr Robertsoi!, this cily stands on the same ground with 
 Palibothra, the ancient and famous capital of the Prasii; 
 and it must be acknowledged, that the description of 
 the latter place given by Slrabo, (lib. xv. p. 1028.) and 
 by Arrian, [Hint. Incl. c. 10.) corresponds exactly with 
 that of Allahabad. Major Rennel, however, is of opi- 
 nion, that Patna now occupies the ground where the 
 ancient Palibothra stood. His reasonings on this topic, 
 which do not appear to be so conclusive as those of 
 Robertson, may be found in the " Historical Disquisi- 
 tion concerning the knowledge which the ancients had 
 of India, Sec. pp. 197, 198, ed. 1791. 4 to, or in Rennil's 
 J\Ie»!oir, p. 49. et sec/. The modern cily is divided ii'Ao 
 two parts, the Old Town and the New; the for.ner 
 situated upon the Ganges, and the latter upon the Jum- 
 na. A fortress erected by the emperor Akber, occupies 
 a large space within its boundaries; and a pillar oi one 
 stone 40 feet in height, and ascribed by tradition to one 
 of the heroes of the Mahabarat, together with the ele- 
 gant tomb of Khufru, which is to be found here, give 
 us no contemptible idea of the Mahometan architecture. 
 Allahabad is the favourite seat of devotion and the re- 
 sort of pilgrims; and it is held in such veneration by 
 the Hindoos, that, if a man happens to die in it, they 
 believe he will attain to the accomplishment of all his 
 •wishes in his next regeneration. The city itself is de- 
 nominated " The King of Worshipped Places ;" and 
 the adjacent country, to the extent of 40 miles, is re- 
 garded as sacred, and not to be trod upon by any one 
 vithout the performance of the appointed ceremonies. 
 To the S. W. of Allahabad, at a small distance from it, 
 are situated the diamond mines of Penna. E. Long. 82° 
 5'. N. Lat. 25° 27'. See Strabo, lib. xv. Jrrian Hist. 
 Incl. c. 10. D'Jnville, Antiq. de I'Jnde, p. 53. 56. Ber- 
 nOuUi, tom. i. 223. et secj. Jyeen .Ikbtrnj, vol. ii. p. 35., 
 and vol. iii. p. 256. (/;) 
 
 ALLAMANDA, a genus of plants of the class pen- 
 ^' tandria and order monogynia. See Botany, (ot) 
 
 ALLAN, David, a celebrated historical painter, who 
 has been called the Hogarth of Scotland, was born at 
 Alloa on the 1 3th February 1744, O. S. At an early 
 age he exhibited uncommon proofs of mechanical skill, 
 which was first observed and encouraged by a Mr Stew- 
 art, collector of the customs at Alloa. The first rude 
 efforts of his genius were formed merely by a knife, and 
 displayed a degree of taste and skill far above his years. 
 When Mr Stewart was at Glasgow, he mentioned the 
 merits of young Allan to Mr Foulis, the celebrated 
 printer, who kept an academy for painting and engra- 
 ving. About the beginning of 1757, Mr Foulis invited 
 Allan to his academy, where he continued about seven 
 years acquiring the rudiments of his art. The genius of 
 Allan had already attracted the notice of Mrs Erskinc 
 of Mar, lady Charlotte Erskine, lord Cathcart, and Mr 
 Abercroniby of Tullibody, who generously agreed to 
 be at the joint expense of sending him to Italy. At 
 Rome he devoted himself to his profession with the 
 most unremitting assiduity, studying the works of the 
 
 first masters, and sketching from the exquisite remains 
 ot antiquity, which then adorned the ancient nieliopolis 
 of the world. In the year 1773, Mr Allan was the suc- 
 cessful candidate for the i)rize medal given by the aca- 
 demy ol St Luke, at Rome, for the best .specimen of 
 historical composition ; and he appears to have been 
 the only Scotsman, Mr Gavin Hamilton excepted, on 
 whom this high honour has been conferred. The sub- 
 ject chosen by Mr Allan was the Origin ol Painting : It 
 is a composition of great merit, and seems to be one of 
 the happiest efl'orts ot his pencil. 
 
 After studying about 16 years in Italy, Mr Allan re- 
 turned to his native country. He took up his residence 
 in Edinburgh, where he was apiwinted master of the 
 academy established by the trustees for manufactures 
 in Scotland. Here he executed the aquatinta engravings 
 illustrative of the Gentle Shepherd ; the Scottish Wed- 
 dijig ; the Cotter's Saturday Night ; the Highland Dance ; 
 the Ri pentance Stool ; and other works, which have 
 raised him to a high rank among the artists of this 
 country His painting of the Prodigal Son, in the pos- 
 session of lord Cathcart, and his Hercules and Omphale, 
 in the possession of Mr Erskine of Mar, have been 
 regarded as works of no common merit. Mr Allan 
 died at Edinburgh, on the 6th August 1796, in the 53d 
 year of his age, and was interred in the Calton burying- 
 ground, where no stone has yet been raised to record 
 his talents and virtues. 
 
 As an artist, Mr Allan possessed excellent powers of 
 composition ; and has exhibited in several of his works 
 an accurate and deep acquaintance with the manners 
 and character of his countiymen. The native and deli- 
 cate humour which characterizes some of his pictures, 
 displays a knowledge of the human heart, and a power 
 of expressing its hidden operations, which, if we except 
 our celebrated countryman Mr Wilkie, have not been 
 surpassed by any artist. The private character of Mr 
 Allan was marked by the most engaging virtues. To 
 the strictest honour and integrity, he united the most 
 gentle and unatfected manners. He was sincere and 
 wai-m in his attachments, and never forgot the kind- 
 ness of his benefactors. When relaxed from the la- 
 bours of his profession, he often delighted his friends 
 with a playfulness of wit, and a conviviality of disposi- 
 tion peculiar to himself; but it was the wit that does 
 not wound, and the conviviality that does not lead to 
 intemperance. 
 
 Mr Allan had the happiness of enjoying, during the 
 latter part of his life, the friendship and esteem of Mr 
 George Thomson, who is already known to the world . 
 as the friend and correspondent of Burns, and whose 
 kindness to Allan and his family deserves to be record- 
 ed. Mr Allan had the honour of leaving behind him a 
 pupil, Mr H. W. Williams of Edinburgh, whose genius 
 and classical taste, as a landscape painter, entitle him to 
 a very high rank among British artists, (o) 
 
 ALLANTOIS, in comparative anatomy, a thin mem- 
 brane situated between the amnios and chorion in the 
 pregnant female of quadrupeds, and forming one of the 
 membranes that invest the foetus in these animals. It 
 has been so called because it often resembles an inflated 
 gut, from jtAAa; a g-iif, and ti^o^, form. See P/iil. Trans. 
 vol. xxii. p. 834., and Mammalia. (,/") 
 
 ALLATIUS, Leo, one of the most voluminous wri- 
 ters of the seventeenth century, was born in 1586, in 
 the island of Scio, from which he was removed, at the 
 age of nine years, to Calabria. Some years after, he
 
 ALL 
 
 ALL 
 
 so: 
 
 cjaercd the Greek College at Rome, and applied with 
 assiduity to the study of philosophy, divinity, and polite 
 literature. From Rome he proceeded to Naples, where 
 he was appointed great vicar to Bernard Justiniani, 
 bishop of Anglona. After this appointment he returned 
 to his native island; but, regretting the interruption of 
 his literary pursuits, and the loss of his literary com- 
 panions, he soon revisited Rome, and fixed in that city 
 his residence for life. On returning to this seat of the 
 muses, he engaged with fresh ardour in the elegant and 
 liberal occupations from which he had been precluded 
 in his own country. After applying for some time to 
 the study of medicine, and taking out his degree as 
 doctor in that science, he devoted his whole attention 
 to the Belles Lettres, and soon distinguished himself 
 by the elegance and the extent of his accomplishments. 
 He was appointed Greek Professor in the college of his 
 nation at Rome ; he was intrustetl by Gregory XV. with 
 the charge of removing the library of the elector pala- 
 tine to that city ; and, after the death of that pontiiT, he 
 lived, first with cardinal Bichi, and then with cardinal 
 Francis Barbcrini, till he was appointed by pope Alex- 
 ander VII. keeper of the Vatican Library. For this 
 employment, his unwearied industry, his fondness for 
 manuscripts, and his excellent memory, rendered him 
 peculiarly qualified. He lived to the advanced age of 
 83, and died at Rome in January 1669. 
 
 The character of AUatius is by no means amiable. 
 Though educated in the bosom of the Greek church, 
 he became such an extravagant bigot to the Roman 
 Catholic religion, that he maintains the necessity of 
 obeying the commands of the pope, even when he go- 
 verns with injustice ; and asserts, that as the Roman 
 pontiff is armed with the authority of Christ, not even 
 an angel from heaven could make him alter his opinion, 
 or deviate from truth. Nor was his temper less into- 
 lerant, than his bigotry was extravagant and absurd. 
 Fire and sword are the weapons with which he proposes 
 to reduce schismatics and heretics, 7u/io,to use his own 
 words, ought to be proscribed, punished, and extirpated. 
 In his controversial writings, he brands his antagonists 
 with the most opprobrious epithets which malice could 
 invent ; and indulges his rancour particularly against 
 his countrymen the Greeks, whom he reproaches as 
 schismatics. He gave great assistance to the gentlemen 
 of Port Royal, in the controversy which they carried on 
 Avith Mr Claude concerning the belief of the Greeks, 
 with regard to the eucharist. His compositions display 
 erudition rather than judgment. Among his Greek 
 poems there is one upon the birth of Louis XIV., which 
 he afterwards reprinted and dedicated to that prince. A 
 ridiculous story is told of a pen of Allatius, with which 
 he wrote Greek for forty years, and the loss of which 
 he lamented with tears. (^) 
 
 ALLECTUS was the first minister and confidential 
 servant of Carausius, who reigned in Britain after that 
 island was declared to be independent of Rome, A. D. 
 287. Prompted by ambition to usurp the regal dignity, 
 as well as desirous to avoid the punishment of his 
 crimes, he put Carausius to death, and established him- 
 self upon the throne. But his elevation was not of long 
 continuance. For Constantius, having fitted out a pow- 
 erful squadron, with a view to recover the island from 
 the dominion of the usurper, ordered it to assemble at 
 the mouth of the Seine, and gave the command of it 
 to Asclepiodotus the prefect. This officer was not inat- 
 tentive to the duty to which he was called. Availing 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 himself of a thick fog, as William the Conqueror did 
 in later times, he escaped the notice of the fleet of 
 Allectus, which was stationed near the Isle of Wight, 
 and landed on the western coast. No sooner had Ascle- 
 piodotus landed, than he set fire to his ships, resolving 
 either to subdue the usurper, or to perish in the attempt. 
 In the mean thne, Allectus had taken his station in the 
 neighbourhood of London, expecting an attack from 
 Constantius, who lay off Boulogne with his ileet; Init, 
 informed of the descent of Asclepiodotus, he hastened 
 by forced marches to the western coast, in order to 
 repel the invaders. A severe action followed : but the 
 troops of Allectus, being fatigued and dispirited, were 
 routed by the imperial army, and he himself was left 
 dead on the field of battle. Immediately after this en- 
 gagement, Constantius landed on the shore of Kent, 
 and was received with the loudest acclamations of joy, 
 and the testimonies of universal obedience. And thus, 
 England, having been separated from the empire for 
 about ten years, was agahi brought under the dominion 
 of Rome. Gibbon's JJcctine and Fall of the Horn. Emp, 
 vol. i. (//) 
 
 ALLEGANY Mountains, otherwise called the 
 Apalaches, from a tribe oi Indians who live on the banks 
 of the Apalachicola, a river which proceeds from these 
 mountains, are a part of that extensive range which is 
 situated between the Atlantic, the Mississippi, and thc 
 lakes of North America; and which runs in a direction 
 from south-west to north-east, passing through the 
 country of the United States, and giving origin to many 
 rivers that flow, either into the Gulf of Mexico, or 
 into the Western Ocean. As the Allegany Mountains 
 form a principal part of the chain just alluded to, they 
 often give their name to the whole range. This range 
 commences in Georgia, stretches northwards and east- 
 wards through the territory of Virginia, passes on in 
 the same directions through Pennsylvania and the nor- 
 thern counties, and terminates in the division of New 
 Brtmswick. Its whole extent, according to Pinkerton, 
 is not less than 900 geographical miles. As it approaches 
 its termination, the mass rises in height: the chief 
 summits are in New Hampshire, and are reported to 
 be nearly 8000 feet above the level of the ocean. Be- 
 sides the main ridge, however, there are several others 
 which are collateral to it, as the Iron or Bald Moun- 
 tains, the White Oak Mountains, and the Blue Moun- 
 tains; the Cumberland Mountains forming the exterior 
 skirt towards the north-west. The breadth of the whole 
 is often equal to seventy miles. 
 
 It is particularly deserving of notice, that while the 
 Allegany or Apalachian Mountains give origin to 
 several rivers, their course is likewise broken liy others 
 which take their rise in the more level country to the 
 west of the range, and whose channels, where they have 
 pierced the rock, are composed of the same hard mate- 
 rials with its other parts. This is the case with the 
 Susquehanna and the Potowmac, which open into the 
 Bay of Chesapeake ; and, as it is affirmed, with Hudson's 
 River in the north. Whether the passages through 
 which these great collections of water flow towards the 
 Atlantic, were formed by any convulsion of nature af- 
 fecting this part of the world, {Jefferson's A'otes on Vir- 
 ginia, App. No. 2.) or whether by the gradual disintegra- 
 tion of the mass, in consequence of the action of the 
 fluid, it is not easy to determine; though we think it 
 probable, that the phenomenon is to be ascribed to the 
 union or successive operations of both these causes. 
 3 S
 
 506 
 
 ALL 
 
 ALL 
 
 Bui, in whtitevLT way wc account for it, it is unques- 
 tionably an appturancc which merits the attention of 
 philosophers; and whieli by no means harmonizes with 
 the geographical theories, which liavc long been receiv- 
 fd by the public. (A) 
 
 For the following account of the geognostic structure 
 of the Allegany Mountains, the Editor is indebted to 
 professor Jameson, to whose learning and talents this 
 work is under great obligations. 
 
 As far as we know, no well educated mineralogist 
 has hitherto examined tlie geognostic structure and re- 
 lations of this great range of mountains ; nor do we even 
 possess any very accurate description of the grouping 
 and shape of its individual mountains. It would ap- 
 pear fiom notices in the Jlcrgmatinischcs Journal, and 
 Journal dis Mines, and the relations of travellers, that 
 the rocks, of which these mountains are composed, are 
 similar in structure and arrangement to those observed 
 in Europe. Thus granite appears, in general, to form 
 the central and highest parts of the groupes ; although 
 in some particular instances it is observed on a lower 
 level than certain newer rocks that really or apparently 
 occupy the central and highest parts of the groupe. 
 This appearance has been urged as an objection against 
 the general fact, that granite forms the central and high- 
 est parts of mountain groupes. An accurate knowledge 
 of the grouping of mountains, and of the different rock 
 formations, however, shows us that this objection has 
 no force ; for we find that in those instances where the 
 granite has really a lower level than the newer rocks, 
 that these rocks are either overlying formations, as 
 syenite, second porphyry, newest granite, or newest 
 floetz trap, or partial accumulations of newer primitive, 
 transition, or tla;tz rocks; and in those instances where 
 the granite is only apparently lower than neighbouring 
 rocks, the deception is caused by our confounding sub- 
 ordinate with principal mountain groupes. The granite 
 is succeeded by a class of slaty rocks, which appears 
 in some instances to include the whole series of princi- 
 pal, conformable, primitive formations, viz. gneiss, mica 
 slate, and clay slate ; in others, to contain only individual 
 members of this series, as gneiss, or clay slate. The 
 lower parts of the range arc composed of floetz rocks, 
 and these are principally limestone, sandstone, and gyp- 
 sum. The limestone is the most abundant of the flcEtz 
 formations, and it contains numerous petrifactions of ani- 
 mal and vegetable bodies. The animal petrifactions 
 are by far the most abundant; a? d of these a considera- 
 ble number of ammonites, corallites, &c. have been de- 
 scribed. In the valleys and lower parts of this range, 
 there are considerable tracts composed of alluvial de- 
 posits, which have been formed by the washing of de- 
 bris Tom the sides of the mountains, or by the overflow- 
 ing of rivers. The slaty primitive rocks, viz. gneiss, 
 mica slate, and clay slate, are traversed by metalliferous 
 repositories that contain ores of copper, leud, and sil- 
 ver. -Pinkerton's Cecgraphy.,\o\. iii. p. 33. et seq. Morse's 
 Geog. of the United States, p. 65. and 310. edit. 1795. 
 Pennant's .■Irctic Zoology, ccxxix. Journal des Mines, 
 No. 54. Whitchurst's Jiyiq. into the State and Formation 
 ef the Earth. 'P\:i\(a\r's Il/ust. ofthe Huttonian Theory, (r) 
 
 ALLEGANY Couvty, is included in the province 
 of Maryland, and forms its most western division. It is 
 bounded on the north by Pennsylvania, on the south by 
 the river Potomac and Virginia, and on the east by 
 Sidelinghill Creek and the coimty of Washington. Its 
 population ainounts to 4809, including 258 slaves. Its 
 ^KteS town ts Ctimberland. The same name is given to 
 
 another county in Pennsylvania. This last extendi 
 from the junction of the river Allegany with the Ohio, 
 to the New York line. It contains 10,150 inhabitants, ex- 
 clusive of 159 slaves. (/;) 
 
 ALLECJANY River, in Pennsylvania. It takes 
 its rise from the western side of the Allegany Moun» 
 tains, runs for about 2oO miles towards the south-west, 
 meets with the Monongahela at Pittsburg, and both, 
 uniting their waters, form the Ohio ; which, as well as 
 its tributary streams, was called the Allegany by the 
 Five Nations, (now the Six Nations,) who occasionally 
 resided on its banks. The Ohio is still called the Alle- 
 gany by several of the aboriginal tribes. — Pinkerton's 
 Geog. vol. iii. p. 30. note 6. Morse's ylmerican Geogra- 
 phy, Art. Pennsylvania. {Ji) 
 
 ALLEGIANCE, {ligeantia, from ligare, alligare, to 
 bind,)* a term first used by the feudists, to denote that 
 
 * The word allegiance is of modern date. In the 
 ancient books and statutes it is written ligeance, and 
 from thence has been framed the barbarous Latui word 
 ligeantia. The generally admitted derivation of these 
 words from the Latin ligare, or alligare, as expressive 
 of the bond or connection subsisting between the lord 
 and his vassal, has always appeared to us to be a forced 
 etymology, because few of the genuine terms of the 
 feudal law have been borrowed from the Latin language ; 
 but their origin is rather to be sought for in the idioms 
 of the northern conquerors, who introduced that system 
 into the provinces of the Roman empire. 
 
 Dr Johnson very properly derives allegiance from the 
 French word lige, which was itself the denomination of 
 a particular species of feud, caUcdJie/ lige. Hence the 
 French, and particularly the Angevins and Normans, 
 said, homme lige, vassal li.ge, hommage lige, fief lige; 
 and out of the adjective lige, formed the substantive 
 ligence, from which the English made ligeance and li- 
 geantia, and afterwards allegiance. 
 
 The French, as well as the English etymologists de- 
 rive the word lige from the Latin ligare; but we cannot 
 agree with them in this opinion, and are inclined to 
 trace that term to another antl more legitimate source. 
 
 Thefef lige is defined by the French feudists to be a 
 species of fief, the tenure of which is called ligence; 
 by which the vassal is l)ound, not only to fealty, but 
 to personal service, which distinguishes it from the 
 fief simple, {fee simple,) which binds tlie tenant to fealty 
 only. Hence the fef lige is by the French jurists also 
 denominated fef de Corps, in allusion to the corporal 
 service which the vassal is obliged to perform, and also 
 to the f or/;orfi/ oath which he takes on doing homage, by 
 holding both his hands between those of his sovereign. 
 Ferriere, Diet de Droit, verbo Fief lige. Denisart, Collect, 
 de Jurispr. eod. verbo. The difference between y?i(rfum 
 ligium and feudum simftlex, is also well explained by 
 Blackstone, 1 Comm. 567. 
 
 We arc, for this reason, strongly inclined to believe, 
 that the word lige takes its derivation from the Norman or 
 Danish words lig, legeme, which signify body; and thus 
 in the original language, as well as in the modern French, 
 the true signification of fef lige, is a corporal fef, or 
 fefde Cor/is, as well on account of the personal services 
 to be rendered, as of the corporal oath which the vassal 
 was obliged to take. This etymology appears to us 
 more natural than that which is generally adopted : We 
 submit it, however, to the better judgment and consi- 
 deration of the learned. Dupokceau.
 
 ALLEGIANCE. 
 
 507 
 
 legal tie, by which subjects are bound to their sovereign 
 or liege lord. The tie itself is, no doubt, subslanliully 
 implied in the very nature of government; but the ibrni, 
 as well as the name, is derived to us from the institu- 
 tions of a barbarous age. 
 
 Upon the introduction of the feudal laws and customs 
 by the Gothic conquerors of Europe, the lands distri- 
 buted by the victorious leaders among llieir soldiers 
 and dependents, were holdcn cither immediately of the 
 sovereign lord himself, or of some of his vassals. Tlie 
 feudal lord, whether mediate or immediate, was consi- 
 dered as bound to protect his subjects or vassals in the 
 undisturbed possession of the estates conferred upon 
 them; while, on the other hand, the subjects were re- 
 (luired not only to make an acknowledgment of duty to 
 their lord, but at all times to pay obedience to his just 
 commands, and to defend him against his personal ene- 
 mies. The act of acknowledgment, on the part of the 
 subject or vassal, consisted in his taking an oath of fealty, 
 (Jidflitas,) which oath was required to be taken by all 
 subjects to their sovereign or superior lord, with this 
 distinction, tliat in the case of fealty sworn to the su- 
 preme lord, the oath contained an unlimited obligation; 
 whereas, in the case of a landlord, who was himself the 
 vassal of another, the oath was qualified by an express 
 reservation of the faith due to the sovereign. Tliis last 
 was the usual forni of the oath of fealty. The acknow- 
 ledgment made to the supreme lord himself, who was 
 vassal to no man, was called the oath of allegiance ; and 
 then the vassal swore to bear faith to his sovereign lord, 
 in opposition to all men, [canti-a umncs homines Jidclitu- 
 fem ffcil,) without any limitation or reservation what- 
 soever. The land which was thus holdcn by immediate 
 tenure of the, supreme lord, was called a liege-fee, (/'(■«- 
 i!um lii^'ium, the superior, liege-lord, {dominus ligius,) 
 and the vassals, liege-men, {/lomincs ligii.) 
 
 When it happened that one sovereign held some of 
 his lands under the sovereignty of another, a distinction 
 was made in the homage to be done by the former, be- 
 tween simple homage, which was a mere acknowledg- 
 ment of tenure, and liege homage, which included the 
 oath of fealty and the services consequent upon it. An 
 example of a dispute concerning these two kinds of ho- 
 mage, occurs in the reign of Edward III. who, in the 
 year 1359, did homage to Philip VI. of France for his 
 possessions on the continent. But in England it be- 
 came a general principle of tenure, that all lands in the 
 kingdom are holden of the king alone, as sovereign and 
 lord paramount ; and consequently the oath of fealty only 
 could be taken to inferior lords ; while the oath of alle- 
 giance came to be confined exclusively to the person of 
 the sovereign. 
 
 In process of time, the term "allegiance" was brought, 
 by analogy, to conrprchend all the duties which sub- 
 jects owe to their prince, as well as those which were 
 merely of a territorial nature. Accordingly the oath of 
 allegiance, as it was administered fur upwards of 600 
 years, contained a promise "to be true and faithful to 
 the king and his heirs, and truth and faith to bear of 
 life and limb, and tcrrane honour, and not to know or 
 hear of any ill or damage intended him, without de- 
 fending him therefrom." At the important era of the 
 Revolution, however, the terms of this oath were deem- 
 ed too favourable to the doctrine of non-i-esistance ; and 
 the present form was therefore introduced by the con- 
 vention parliament, as more agreeable to the principles 
 of the constitution then established. By this oath, which 
 
 is much more generally expressed than the former, the 
 subject merely promises, "that he will be faithful, and 
 bear true allegiance to tlie king." There is no men- 
 tion of " his heirs ;" nor is it specified wherein the alle- 
 giance consists. The indeterminate style of this form of 
 oatli, however, is amply supplied by the terms of the 
 oath of abjuration, introduced in the reign (;f king Wil- 
 liam. (See AujUHATioN.) The following is the form 
 of the oath of allegiance, as established by 1 Geo. stat. 
 ii. c. 13.: "I, A. B. do sincerely promise and swear, 
 that I will be faithful, and bear true allegiance to his 
 majesty king George. So help me God." And this 
 oath may be tendered to all persons above the age of 1_' 
 years, whether natives, denizens, or aliens, either in the 
 court-lectof the manor, or in the sheriff's court. Qua- 
 kers are exempted from taking this oath, for whicli 
 there is substituted a mere declaration of fidelity bv 8 
 Geo. c. vi. 
 
 But besides this express engagement, the law also 
 holds, that there is an implied, original, and virtual alle- 
 giance due from every suljject to his sovereign, antece- 
 dently to any express promise, and independently of any 
 form : and the taking of the oath of allegiance, there- 
 fore, is nothing but a solenm and formal profession or 
 declaration, on the part of the subject, of his readiness 
 to fulfil those duties, which were before implied by law. 
 The duties imposed by the oath of allegiance, have been 
 considered by some, as the counter-part to those en- 
 gagements which the sovereign comes under, upon 
 taking the coronation oath : others, on the contrary . 
 hold the former to be absolute and unconditional. But 
 there is no doubt, that the sovereign is bound to go- 
 vern according to law, even before taking the corona- 
 tion oath ; as the subject is bouud in allegiance, indepen- 
 dently of his taking the oath : these oaths, liien, maybe 
 considered as a mere outwaid pledge for the peiform- 
 ance of duties, which the parties were previously under 
 a legal obligation to fulfil. In consequence of this 
 obligation, either express or implied, every subject is 
 bound to support the reigning sovereign in the exercise 
 of all the rights with which he is invested by law. But 
 no man is bound to sui)port the monarch in acts of in- 
 justice; nor to obey the royal command, sliould it en- 
 join the breach even of the most inconsiderable law; 
 nor to continue his allegiance should the king be ren- 
 dered in any manner incapable of exercising the royal 
 functions. 
 
 Allegiance, whether express or implied, is distinguish- 
 ed by the law into two sorts, natural and local. The 
 former has been considered by some writers as per- 
 petual; the latter is temporary only. Natural alle- 
 giance, according to sir William Blackstone, is that 
 which is due from all men born within the king's domi- 
 nions immediately upon their birth : for immediately 
 upon their birth they experience the king's protection; 
 at a time, too, when they are incapable of protecting 
 themselves. Natural allegiance is, therefore, a debt of 
 gratitude. But the celebrated reasoner above mention- 
 ed docs not appear justifiable in concluding, that this 
 debt of gratitude cannot be forfeited, cancelled, or alter- 
 ed by any change of time, place, or circumstance, nor by 
 any thing but the united concurrence of the legislature. 
 MrGisborne's reasoning on this subject seems more just 
 and consistent. Considering natural allegiance, with 
 judge Blackstone, as merely a debt of gratitude, he 
 adds, that the discharge of it cannot be demanded com- 
 pulsorily ; it must flow from the spontaneous sentiments 
 3 S
 
 508 
 
 ALL 
 
 ALL 
 
 of thankfulness on the part of him who has received 
 iTie benefit. The only foundation on wliicli the claim of 
 allegiance can be rested is the voluntary act of the 
 subject, whereby he takes the obligation upon himself, 
 either in the more solemn manner Ijy taking the oath, 
 or by accepting the protection and the civil rights 
 which are granted by the laws on the condition of alle- 
 giance.* 
 
 Local allegiance is that which is due from an alien, or 
 stranger born, so long as he continues within the king's 
 dominions and protection, and it ceases as soon as such 
 stranger removes from tliis kingdom to another. This 
 species of allegiance is therefore temporary. It is con- 
 fined, in point of time, to the duration of the alien's resi- 
 dence, and in point of locality, to the dominions of the 
 Brilisii empire. See Blackslone's Comment. B. i. chap. 
 lO. Paley's Prnci/ilcs of Mor. and I'olit. P/iilos. B. iii. 
 eh. 18. Gisborne's Duties of Men, ch. iv. p. 83.5th 
 edit. (.-) 
 
 ALLEGORY, in composition, a figurative mode of 
 v.riting, which consists in selecting something analogous 
 to a subject, instead of the subject itself; and describ- 
 
 * The doctrine of perpetual allegiance is repugnant 
 to the principles of republican governments. We are 
 told by Plato that the Athenian citizens might freely 
 expatriate themselves whenever they became dissatis- 
 fied with their own country. Dialogue between Soerates 
 and Crito. Sect. 8. And Cicero considered the right of 
 expatriation as the firmest foundation of Roman liberty. 
 Every scholar has read and admired the beautiful apos- 
 trophe into which he breaks out upon this subject in 
 his oration for Balbus : O jura prxctara, atque diviniths 
 a majoribus nostris com/iarata .' ne guts invitus civitate 
 miitetur, 7ie~ve in civitate maneat invitus. H<cc sunt eniin 
 
 rUNDAMENTA. FIRMISSIMA NOSTRAS LIBERTATtS, SUi 
 
 quemque jxiris et rctinendi et dimittendi esse dotninum. 
 
 The same principle formerly obtained in the repub- 
 lics of modern Europe, and particularly in Holland and 
 Switzerland. Indeed, the publicists contended for the 
 right of emigration, even under monarchical govern- 
 ments ; and the learned Bynkershoek has no hesitation 
 in saying, that it is lawful for the subject to emigrate, 
 ':t'/ierever the country is not a Jirison. Quxst. Jur. pub. 
 lib. i. c. 22. 
 
 In the United States, the right of expatriation has 
 been solemnly recognized by a decision of the supreme 
 judicial authority ; with these restrictions, however, that 
 it must be exercised at such time, in such manner, and 
 under such circumstances, as not to endanger the peace 
 or safety of the United States; and that the bona fide in- 
 tention of the party to expatriate himself must be clearly 
 proved, so that the act of emigration be not made a mere 
 cover to evade or violate the laws of our own country. 
 Talbot V. Jansen, 2 Dall. 133. 
 
 So far the general principle has become a part of our 
 municipal law; but several important questions depend- 
 ing upon it still remain to be determined. Among those 
 the supreme com't has reserved for future considera- 
 tion " whether a citizen of the United States can direst 
 himself absolutely of that character, otherwise than in 
 such maimer as may be prescribed bij our own laws; and 
 whether his expatriation would be sufficient to rescue 
 him from punishment for a crime committed against 
 the United States." Murray y. the Charming Betsey, 
 "i Cranch, 120. Duponceau. 
 
 ing at length the particulars belonging to the former, 3ji 
 
 such a manner as to illustrate what we mean to enforce 
 respecting the latter. It may be compared to an emble- 
 matical painting, in which we are left to discover the in- 
 tention of the artist by our own meditation ; with this 
 difterence, that in the one, colours and forms are em- 
 ployed ; in the other, words only. Botli exercise the 
 judgment, as well as the imagination, by pointing out 
 some strikhig relation between objects which may be 
 very different in most respects ; but wnich agree so 
 well in the circumstances brought before us, that though 
 the representative object is alone placed in our view, 
 the resemblance leads us at once to apply all the par- 
 ticulars to the subject represented. Our ingenuity i* 
 thus exercised in a pleasing manner ; and we are at the 
 same time instructed and amused. See Metaphor and 
 Rhetoric. 
 
 Allegories were a very favourite method of delivering 
 instructions in ancient times, and among rude nations, 
 where the power of imagination is often found in greater 
 vigour than among the most polished tribes. Jotham's 
 allegory or parable of the trees choosing a king, in the 
 ninth book of Judges, is one of the earliest examples of 
 this kind of writing, that has descended to us. The fa- 
 bles of Esop, and those of Lokman or Pilpay,are also al- 
 legories or parables of very high antiquity ; in which, by 
 certain words and actions, attributed to beasts, or even to 
 inanimate objects, the dispositions of men are figured ; 
 and what we call the moral, is the imfigured sense or 
 meaning of the allegory. An aenigma or riddle is also 
 an allegory ; but purposely rendered so obscure, as to be 
 unfolded with difficulty. When an allegory is so dark 
 as not to be easily interpreted, it becomes, in fact, an 
 aenigma. 
 
 Allegorical writing was much in vogue, soon after the 
 revival of letters in the middle ages ; and was prose- 
 cuted through works of very great length, so as to be- 
 come exceedingly tedious and perplexing. One of the 
 best specimens of this kind of composition we have in 
 Spenser's Faiiy Queen ; which would not, however, now 
 be read, did not the story, taken even in its literal sense, 
 afford sufficient interest and entertainment to the reader. 
 
 A short and natural allegory, introduced into poetry, 
 or any of the animated species of composition, produces a 
 very happy effect, although it ought to be remembered, 
 that this is rather the language of imagination, than of 
 very strong and overwhelming emotion. In Prior's 
 Henry and Emma, Emma, in the following allegorical 
 language, beautifully describes her constancy to Henry : 
 
 Did I but purpose to embark with tliee 
 On the smooth surface of a summer's sea, 
 AVhile g'entle zephjTS play with prosperous gales. 
 And fortune's favour fills tlie swelling sails ! 
 Hut would forsake the sliip, and make the shore, 
 AVhen the winds wliistle, and the tempests roar .' (m) 
 
 ALLEGRI, Gregorio, in Biography, a celebrated 
 composer of music of the seventeenth century, and au- 
 thor of the Miserere. He was a native of Rome, and by 
 profession an ecclesiastic. Nanini was his instructcrin 
 his favourite science, and he was the intimate friend and 
 contemporary of Palestrina. — Though his abilities as a 
 singer were not very conspicuous, yet he was reckoned 
 a complete master of harmony, and was in such estima- 
 tion with the perforrners of his time, that he was appoint- 
 ed by the Pope A. D. 1629, to a situation in the choir of 
 his chapel. His principal compositions are of a sacred 
 and solemn description ; and many parts of the church
 
 ALL 
 
 ALL 
 
 509 
 
 service in Italy, remarkable for the divine simplicity and 
 purity of the harmony, are, at this day, the evidences of 
 his successful application to the musical art. But to his 
 skill as a composer, he added a gentleness of dis])osition, 
 and a warmth of benevolence, which showed that he was 
 possessed of merit still higher and more enviable. The 
 poor flocked around his abode, and were relieved by his 
 charity, and guided by his exhortations. It was his daily 
 bu->iness to visit the prisons of Rome, and to attend to 
 the wants of the unhappy persons wiio were shut up in 
 those dreary mansions. At length, after a life spent in 
 useful employment and active benevolence, he died A. 
 D. 1652 ,and was buried in the Chicsa Nuova, before 
 the chapel of St Philippa Neri, near the altar of annun- 
 ciation. 
 
 Of all the works of Allegri, the ATiscrere is the most 
 distinguished. It has been preserved together with his 
 other compositions, in the pontifical chapel ; and lias an- 
 nually been performed there on Wednesday, and Good 
 Friday in Passion Week, for 170 years, by the clioral 
 band, and the chief singers of Italy. It is believed, 
 however, that the effect which it produces is not wholly 
 to be attributed to the composition itself. Something 
 must be ascribed to the time, the place, and the ceremo- 
 nies with which the performance is accompanied : and 
 besides these, there are certain traditionary observances, 
 attitudes, and graces, known and adhered to by the 
 singers, which have likewise their influence upon the 
 minds of the audience. The Pope and the whole con- 
 clave fall to the ground, the torches of the balustrade 
 and the candles of the chapel are extinguished, one 
 alter another ; and the last verse of the psalm termi- 
 nates 1)y two choirs ; the maestro di cajiella beating time 
 slower and slower, and with less force, and the singers 
 diminishing the harmony till the whole dies gradually 
 away. According to Father Martini, there were never 
 more than three copies of this wonderful performance 
 made by authority; of these the first was for the em- 
 peror Leopold, the second for the late king of Portugal, 
 and the third for himself. But this statement cannot be 
 regarded as correct ; for a very complete transcript of 
 it was presented by his holiness to George II., and 
 esteemed by the donor as an invaluable curiosity. (/;) 
 
 ALLEGRI Antonio. SeeCoRREGio. 
 
 ALLEMANDE, in music, a slow air in common 
 time, of four ci-otchets in a bar. It is supposed to be of 
 German origin, as it occurs in the harpsichord lessons of 
 Handel, and in other compositions published about the 
 same time. The dance called AUemande is still used 
 in GeiTnany and Switzerland. See Busby's Mus. Diet, (w) 
 
 ALLESTRY, Richard, D. D. was born at Upping- 
 ton, in Shropshire, A. D. 1619 ; and in the course of his 
 life, was distinguished by his zeal and activity in the 
 service of Charles I., as well as his attachment to the 
 calmer pursuits of philosophy and literature. Having 
 received a part of his education at the grammar-school 
 of Coventry, he was removed to Christ-church, Oxford, 
 where he continued for some time under the tuition of 
 Busby, afterwards the celebrated master of Westminster 
 school. His diligent application to study, and the ob- 
 vious tendency of his political principles, which he never 
 scrupled to declare, sufiiciently account for his rapid 
 promotion in the university and in the church. He had 
 no sooner taken his degree as a bachelor of arts, than he 
 was chosen moderator in philosophy : and after the re- 
 storation of Charles II. he was appointed one of the 
 canons of Christ-church, created a doctor in divinity, 
 
 made a chaplain to the king, rcgius professor, of riicolo- 
 gy, and finally provost of luoii college, A. D. 1665. But 
 in the earlier part ot his lilc, tlie course of his studies 
 was interrupted by the unhappy diH'erences which lo(4v 
 place between Cliarles I. and the people of England ; 
 and he was called to military service by the hostile oc- 
 currences of the times, wliile he was prompted to it liy 
 the natural warmth of his disposition. Accordingly he 
 laid aside the gown in the year 1041 ; and joining with 
 other students from Oxlord, whose principles were simi- 
 lar to his own, he entered the royal army. In this new 
 occupation, he gave eminent proofs of his courage and 
 zeal. He was permitted, however, in consequence of a 
 suspension of hostilities, and the friendship of Sir John 
 Biron, to retvu'n to his literary pursuits. Of these in- 
 deed he had never lost sight ; for it is recorded of him, 
 that he often appeared with a nmskct in the one hand, 
 and a book in the other ; relieving the fatigue of mili- 
 tary duty with the consolations of philosopiiy, and at- 
 tending to the improvement ol his mind in the intervals 
 of more active exertion. After his return to Oxford, the 
 parliamentary forces entered the city and attempted to 
 plunder the colleges. They seized many valuable arti- 
 cles, and locked them in an apartment of the deanery, 
 with a view to remove them when they should leave the 
 town ; but AUcstry, having procured the key of the 
 apartment, found means to convey them to another place, 
 so that the republicans searched for them without effect. 
 About this time a fatal disease visited the garrison of 
 Oxford, and AUestry very narrowly escaped with his 
 life. Full of zeal, however, he joined the students who, 
 had volunteered in the service ol the king, being con- 
 tented with the rank of a private soldier; and when the 
 republican arms at length prevailed, he still adhered to 
 his principles, though his activity was repressed by the 
 influence of the ascendent power. He was expelled from 
 his college by the parliamentary visitants on account of 
 his attachment to royalty : a fate, which Locke, in another 
 cause, and for an attachment of a difleient nature, after- 
 wards experienced. (^Fox's Hist, of James II. Ajip.end.') 
 In his retirement, AUestry found an asylum in the house 
 of Francis Newport, a gentleman ot Shropshire, in 
 whose family he ofliciated as chaplain ; till, quitting 
 Newport, he was received by Sir Anthony Cope, of Ox- 
 fordshire, in the same capacity. His talents and fidelity, 
 however, being generally known, he was employed in 
 concerting measures for the restoration of Charles II. 
 As he was returning from an interview with the king, 
 he was seized at Dover, and committed a prisoner to 
 Lambeth-houf e : but in a few weeks, and at the instance 
 of the earl of Shaftesbury, he obtained his release. Im- 
 mediately after his enlargement, he proposed to visit 
 his friend Dr Hammond in Worcestershire ; and ap- 
 proaching the place where he lived, he discovered his 
 funeral procession, at the appearance of which he re- 
 tired in much distress. Hammond left him his books, 
 which were given to him because the testator knew, 
 " that in his hands they would be useful weapons for the 
 defence of the cause which he had so vigorously sup- 
 ported." 
 
 In the subsequent life of AUestry, there is nothing 
 very remarkable. After the government was settled in 
 favour of the king, he basked for a while in the sunshine 
 of preferment, and died in 1681, loaded with honours, 
 and in the fidl possession of plenty and ease. He was 
 zealous and faithful in his political attachments : in 
 literature, he was conspicuous arhong others who were
 
 510 
 
 ALL 
 
 ALL 
 
 themselves not much distinguished for their intellectual 
 attainments ; but he was by no means entitled to the ex- 
 travagant and untiualified praise which his biographers, 
 with inconsiderate proluseness, have heaped upon him. 
 The utmost that can be said of his Forty Sermons is, 
 " that they do not discredit the author." He was a mu- 
 nificent benefactor to Eton college, to which he be- 
 queathed his library ; and he introduced some arrange- 
 ments among the fellowships, which are said to have 
 been very advantageous. AUestry's Sermons, Life, Prei. 
 Bioif. Briton, .irr. .-fl/fitry. (/j) 
 
 ALLEYN, Edward, a celebrated comedian in the 
 reigns of Elizabeth and James I. He was born in Lon- 
 don, on the 1st of September, 1566, of respectable pa- 
 rents. AUeyn was the contemporary of Shakr,peare, 
 and was an original actor m some of his inimitable plays. 
 He was in the most intimate habits with our inmiortal 
 poet, as well as with IJen Jonson. They used frequently 
 to spend their evenings together at the sign of the 
 Cilobe, in company with a few other congenial spirits. 
 A letter from one of the club is still preserved, which 
 contains a curious anecdote, and shews the estimation 
 in which Alleyn was held by his contemporaries. We 
 give an extract, without adhering to the orthography. 
 " 1 never longed for thy company more than last night : 
 we were all very merry at the Globe, when Ned Alleyn 
 tlid not scruple to affirm pleasantly to thy friend Will 
 (Shakspeare,) that he had stolen his speech about the 
 quality of an actor's excellency in Handet, his tragedy, 
 from conversations manifold which had passed between 
 them, and opinions given by Alleyn, touching the sub- 
 ject. Shakspeare did not take this talk in good sort: 
 but Jonson put an end to the strife, with wittily remark- 
 ing: 'This affair needeth no contention; you Hole it 
 from .'Wrf, no doubt ; do not man' el ; hai-e you not seen 
 him act times out of number?'"* Alleyn was indeed 
 the Garrick of his day: and is equally celebrated with 
 that famous actor, for versatile genius, corporal agility, 
 lively temper and fluent elocution. They also resem- 
 bled each other in another respect, in which they differ 
 from most of their professional brethren, — we mean, 
 prudent economy. Playing seems to have been no bad 
 trade in AUeyn's time ; for he left a large fortune, which 
 he devoted chiefly to charitable uses. It must, however, 
 be remembered, that Alleyn was the proprietor of a 
 theatre as well as an actor, and that he had the direc- 
 tion of another fa.':lnonable amusement in those days, 
 viz. the king's bear-garden, which is said to have pro- 
 duced to him a clear profit of five hundred a year; a 
 pretty decisive proof, that we do not exceed our ances- 
 tors, so far as might be imagined, either in folly or ex- 
 travagance. Alleyn, overflowing with riches, and sa- 
 tiated with pulilic fame, prepared to close the scene 
 with some eclat. I"or tliis purpose, he founded an hos- 
 pital at Dulwich, in Surrey, about five miles south of 
 London bridge. This building was executed after a 
 plan by the celebrated Inigo Jones, who is one of the 
 witnesses to the deed of settlement; it is commonly 
 known by the name of Dulwich College: the institution 
 still continues to flourish. Alleyn expended about ten 
 thousand pounds on the building ; and that it might be 
 suitably supported, he appropriated lands to the amount 
 of eight hundred a year, for the maintenance of one 
 master, one warden, and four fellows. The master and 
 warden were always to be of the name of Alleyn or Al- 
 
 len. Six poor men, and as many women, were to be 
 
 supported in this hospital ; besides, twelve poor boys, 
 who were to be educated in good literature, till the age 
 of fourteen or sixteen, and then put out to honest trades 
 and callings. Alleyn was only about 4-8 years of age 
 when he made this endowment, and he took care to sec 
 it carried into etfcet under his own eye. But what is 
 still more extraordinary, after the hospital was com- 
 pleted, he was so pleased with the institution, that he 
 resolved to be himself one of the first pensioners. Ac- 
 cordingly, during the remainder of his life, he confor- 
 med strictly to the rules of the house, and appeared 
 perfectly satisfied with the allowance which his bounty 
 had made for the indigent. Along with this apparent 
 mortification, he still displayed a laudable attention to 
 his temporal interest; and either for his own gratifica- 
 tion, or with a view to the public good, he continued, 
 even after his establishment in the hospital, to draw- 
 considerable profits as manager of the theatre. Besides 
 Dulwich College, he founded several alms-houses in 
 London and Southwark, with competent provisions. 
 This singular character died 25th November, 1626 ; 
 and is buried in the chapel of his own college at Dul- 
 wich. {t;) 
 
 ALLIA, Battle of the, a desperate engagement 
 fought on the banks of the river AUia, in 390 B. C in 
 which 40,000 Romans were either slaiii or put to flight 
 by Brennus and the Gaids. See J ivy, lib. v. cap. 37. 
 Plut. in Camill. Flor. 1. cap. 13. (w) 
 
 ALLIANCE, is an agreement entered into between 
 two nations, or the sovereigns which represent them, 
 for their mutual safety and defence. When the con- 
 tracting parties bind themselves to assist each other 
 only in repelling the attack of the common enemy, it is 
 called a defensive alliance ; if they agree to aid each 
 other in carrying war into the enemy's country, and as- 
 sailing him in every vulnerable part of his dominions, 
 the alliance is said to be offensive, (o) 
 
 ALLIER, a depjartment in France formed out of the 
 High and Low Bourbonnois, and deriving its name from 
 the river AUier, which traverses it from south to north. 
 It is bounded on the north by the departments of the 
 Nievre and the Cher, on the west by those of the Cher 
 and the Creuse, on the south by that of the Puy-de- 
 Dome, and on the east by those of the Loire, and the 
 Seine and Loire. As the river Allier is only navigable 
 during a part of the year, and as the land carriage is 
 difficult, there is a considerable restraint on the com- 
 merce of this department. The fish which are caught 
 in the numerous marshes with which the country is co- 
 vered, form a great branch of its trade. The mineral 
 wells of Vichi, and of Bourbon, the latter of which is 
 only about 60 leagues from Paris, are much frequent- 
 ed in spring and autumn. The department contairrs 
 742,272 hectares, or 1,454,341 square acres. The ex- 
 tensive forests occupy 106,000 hectares. Contributions 
 in 1803, 2,208,064 francs. Population 272,616. Moulins 
 is the capital of the department, (o) 
 
 ALLIGATION, from ad-ligatio, the act of connecting 
 together; signifies the doctrine of things compounded 
 or connected together. Hence it is the name of an 
 arithmetical operation, for determining the value or the 
 weight of one of the ingredients of a mixture, when the 
 number of the ingredients, and the value or the weight 
 of each are known ; or for determining the proportion 
 
 This letter is to be found in llic Annual Register for 1770, vol- liii. p. 107; and in ihe Biograph. Britan. vol. i. p 
 
 157.
 
 ALL 
 
 ALL 
 
 511 
 
 of each ingredient when their values or weights, and 
 
 the value or weight of the mixture arc given. 
 
 Before exeniplit'ying the arithiactical rules liy whirh 
 
 questions of tliis kind may be solved, we ihall deduce 
 
 the rules themselves from an algebraical investigation. 
 
 LetW, W be the relative weights or values of the two 
 
 ingredients, w the weight of the mixture, V the volume 
 
 common to the mixture, and the two ingredients .r, i/, 
 
 the proportion of the ingredients. Then we have x-\-y 
 
 rrV, and y^zV — x. Besides, it is evident, that V : x : : 
 
 W r Wi/ 
 
 W : -^, the weight of -r ; and V : i/ : : W : -y^, the 
 
 weight of y. Now the sum of the weights of x and 
 y must be equal to the weight of the mixture ; hence 
 Wx W'y W,r+W'v_ 
 
 V -r V — V 
 
 equation, instead of 
 Wx + WV— Wa-— ni 
 
 Substituting in this 
 
 y, its value V — x, we have 
 , which multiplying by V, gives 
 
 •Wj-^-W'V — W'jciirVw. Transposing W'V, we have 
 Wx — W'x:^Vw— VW, and dividing by W — W, we 
 
 havexii: ^y_ ^y, ,orx— Vx^^y^^^. In the same 
 
 way, by substituting in the first equation, V — x instead 
 
 of y, we obtain yZZV X ,y_,yf These values of w, x 
 
 and y furnish us with the following rules : 
 
 1. Multiply the weight or value of unity of each in- 
 gredient, by the proportion which it holds in the mix- 
 ture, and the sum of these products will be the weight 
 or value of the whole mixture ; or the sum of these 
 products divided by the volume of the mixture, or the 
 sum of the ingredients, will be the weight or value of an 
 unity of the mixture. 
 
 2. Divide the excess of the value or weight of the 
 mixture above the value or weight of the smaller ingre- 
 dient, by the excess of the value or weight of the largest 
 ingredient above that of the smaller ingredient; and the 
 quotient will be the proportion of the larger ingredient. 
 Divide the excess of the value or weight of the larger 
 ingredient above that of the mixture, by the value or 
 weight of the larger ingredient above that of the smaller 
 one ; and the quotient will be the proportion of the 
 smaller ingredient. 
 
 These rules may be illustrated by the following ex- 
 amples : 
 
 Rule I. 
 
 Example I. — What is the value of a mixture of wheat 
 compoimded of 20 bushels of wheat, at 5 shillings per 
 bushel, 35 bushels at 3 shillings, and 40 bushels at 2 
 shillings? 
 
 The first equation will be 
 
 W.r + \VV+W"z_ 
 
 which in the present case becomes, in numbers, 5X20 
 
 -f 5x364-40X2— 288, the value of the whole mixture, 
 V being equal 1. But if the value of an unit, ;. e. of a 
 bushel, in the present case, be required, we have, the 
 volume V of the mixture being equal to 20-j-36 + 40^ 
 
 „. u 1. 1 5X20-f3x36-)-40x2_, , .„. 
 
 96 bushels, ~3 shilhnars, the value 
 
 96 '' 
 
 of a single bushel. 
 
 Example II. What is the weight of a metallic mix- 
 ture composed of 10 cubic inches of gold, an inch weigh- 
 
 ing 20 ounces ; 9 cubic inches of platlna, an inch weigh- 
 ing 16 ounces; and .'; cubic inches of lead, an inch 
 weighing 6 oimccs. 
 
 The equation will in tliat case be 20x lO-f lGX9-f- 
 6XjZI374 ounces, the weight of the mixture. To find 
 the weight of one ounce of the mixture, we iiave 
 20X10+ 16x9 + 6x5_ 
 
 24 
 
 Ij] ounces nearly. 
 
 Rule II. 
 
 I'.xamftlr. To find the proportion of the ingredients 
 in a mixture of gold and silver, the weight of the gold 
 being 20, that of the silver II, and that of the mixture 
 1 6. i.,et V, the volume common to the three substances, 
 be::zl; then, by substituting the preceding uumbers in 
 the equations, 
 
 xzzYx, 
 
 yzzVx 
 
 W— W 
 
 W— TO 
 
 vv— w 
 
 we have 
 
 x=Z\X 
 
 iy:=lx 
 
 16— 11_5 
 20 — 11 — 9 
 
 20 — 16 4_ 
 
 20 — 11—9' 
 
 so that the given mixture must be composed of - of 
 
 4 
 gold and - of silver. 
 
 When the compound consists of more than two in- 
 gredients, the question is indeterminate, as several dif- 
 ferent proportions of the ingredients may produce a 
 compound of a certain weight. See Algebra, § 297. (o) 
 
 ALLIGATOR, in Zoology, the common name of the 
 American crocodile ; for an account of which, see Lacer- 
 «a, Herpetology. This animal is called by the native 
 Indians Cayman ; but, when first seen by the Spanish 
 adventurers, it was called by them Lagarto or Lizard, 
 fi-om its resemblance to the reptiles of that tribe. Our 
 navigators hearing the Spanish name, denominated the 
 animal a Lagarto, whence, by corruption, the present 
 name alligator, {f) 
 
 ALLIONIA, a genus of plants, of the class Tetran- 
 dria, and order Monogynia. See Botany, (to) 
 
 ALLITERATION, the repetition of the same letter, 
 at the beginning or any emphatic part of a word, at cer- 
 tain short intervals. According to some critics, tliere 
 is much beauty in alliteration properly managed ; accord- 
 ing to others, if it be at all an ornament it is one of the 
 most contemptible and puerile class : but scarcely any 
 critics whatever have given themselves the trouble of 
 inquiring in what the merit of alliteration consists, or 
 upon what principles it is calculated to produce either 
 pleasure or disgust. This is the more remarkable when 
 we consider the minute attention that has been bes- 
 towed upon almost every subject connected with rheto- 
 ric or grammar : Prosody, rhyme, accent, versification, 
 even the management of pauses, have also received a 
 minute investigation from the critic or grammarian ; and 
 the rules belonging to each have been carefully pointed 
 out, and illustrated by numerous examples ; while 
 alliteration has been passed over in contemptuous si- 
 lence, or mentioned merely as a trifling and false re- 
 finement. If, however, wc regulate our judgment by
 
 512 
 
 ALL 
 
 ALL 
 
 the i)i"icticc of our best potts, the canon by which souiut 
 crhicism is most decisiveiy tried, wc cannot but admit 
 Ihiit alliteration enters pretty largely into the gratifica- 
 tion derived I'roni the perusal or recital ol polished ver- 
 ses. Spenser, Dryden, Gray, and Pope, all abound in 
 this ornament ; and seem to have made it an object of 
 attentive study. Sometimes, indeed, they seem to have 
 adopted it to excess ; but on other occasions, it cannot 
 be denied, that much of the beauty of their lines springs 
 principally from this source. Indeed, if it be admitted, 
 that rhyme, or a similar termination of lines, is natu- 
 rally calculated to gratify the ear, which will scarcely 
 iic denied Ijy those who lellcct how generally prevalent 
 its adoption has been in most ages and nations ; il seems 
 lo follow, of course, that the recurrence of the same 
 sounds at the beginning of words, or even in any of 
 their emphatic syllables, must give pleasure ; unless it 
 • an be shewn, that the impression made by the end of a 
 \\ ord, is more permanent and satisfactory than that made 
 by its beginning, or any other of its emphatic parts. It 
 is to this cause, — the delight which the ear takes in the 
 recurrence of similar sounds, — that we are inclined to 
 ascribe the pleasing effect of alliteration ; and not to the 
 mechanical facility with which the organs of articula- 
 tion are enabled to pronounce a succession of similar 
 rather than of dissimilar sounds, which has appeared a 
 more satisfactory solution to some of our critical pre- 
 decessors. (See £ncyc. Brit. art. Alliteuation.) We 
 question whether it be in truth easier for the organs of 
 speech to resume, at short intervals, one certain con- 
 formation, than to throw themselves into a number of 
 different conformations, unconnected and discordant ; 
 and even should this be admitted, we do not think that 
 the gi-eater facility of articulation would impart any cor- 
 responding beauty to verses, the harmony of which is to 
 he judged of by the car, and not by the tongue, or the 
 teet/i. If a letter be in itself difficult of pronunciation, 
 we apprehend that it will be much easier to substitute 
 another of readier utterance in its stead, than to recur 
 to it again in the course of the same line. Thus, instead 
 of " ii'uin seize thee, ruthless king," it would be rather 
 more easy to pronounce " Rmn seize thee, deadly king," 
 although, doubtless, the line would suffer greatly by 
 the substitution. Instead of " Soon he soothed the 
 soul to pleasures ;" it would be full as easy to say, " Soon 
 he lull'd the ?nind to pleasures ;" although with a like 
 diminution of poetical effect. It is, therefore, to the 
 gratification of the ear alone that we are disposed to 
 ascribe all the beauty of alliteration ; and not to any 
 mechanical facility which it communicates to the organs 
 of utterance. 
 
 We are at present entirely without rules for the man- 
 agement of alliteration, or for the just estimate of its 
 merits or defects. The case, however, appears to have 
 been different with the poetry of other nations, and even 
 with some of our own, in rude and more remote periods. 
 " The Icelandic poetry," says Van Troil, " requires two 
 things, viz. words ivit/i the same initial letters, and words 
 of the same sound." {^Letters on Iceland, p. 208.) And 
 Dr Beattic observes, that "some ancient English poems 
 are more distinguished by alliteration, than by any other 
 poetical contrivance. In the works of Langland, even 
 when no regard is had to rhyme, and but little to a rude 
 sort of anaptTSstic measure, it seems to have been a rule, 
 that three words, at least, of each line, should begin with 
 the same letter." 
 
 We conceive that when a letter is somewhat harsh 
 
 and d-fTicult of pronunciation, its repetition imparts a 
 corresponding quality of strength and power to the verse. 
 
 As 
 
 Rum seize thee, ruthless king. Ghay. 
 
 Up the Aigh Aill ha Aeavcs a Auge round stone. Pope. 
 
 But when loud jurge* la«h the founding fhore. Pope. 
 
 While, on the contrary, the repetition of a melodious 
 letter imparts a great degree of sweetness to the verse; 
 as of the / and soft « in the following examples : 
 
 The b/oom of young desire and purp/c /ight of /ove. (inKx. 
 
 6"oftly sweet in Lydian measure*, 
 
 .Soon he iooUi'd the wul lo pleasurej. Drvden^. 
 
 In order to produce a very striking effect, the allitera- 
 tion should take place at regular intervals, and in cor- 
 respondhig parts of the verse. As, 
 
 Thoughts that Areathe, and words that iurn. Gray. 
 //auberk crash and Aelmet ring. Gkav. 
 
 /'ields everyiesh, and proves for evergreen. Pope. 
 'lo Aigh-boin /fcel's Aarp, or soft Llewellyn's /ay. Gray. 
 
 In the last place, the same letter should not be too 
 frequently repeated, otherwise the ear is disgusted, and 
 the effect produced savours somewhat of the ludicrous. 
 As, 
 
 Weave the warp, and weave the woof. Ghay. 
 
 A life «o »acrcd, such serene repose. P.yrnel. 
 
 Of this excessive alliteration, the burlesque poets 
 have frequently made a happy and appropriate usej 
 but none have employed it with more zeal and per- 
 severance than the facetious authors of the '■^ Pugna 
 jiorcorum ]ier Publium Foreium poetam" where every 
 word throughout the whole performance begins with the 
 letter /j. (m) 
 
 ALLIUM, Garlic, a genus of plants of the class 
 Hexandria, and order Monogynia. See Botany, (to) 
 
 ALLIX, Dr Peter, an eminent French Protestant 
 divine, was born at Alen^on, in 1641. After receiving 
 a liberal education, he became minister of the reformed 
 church at Rouen ; where he distinguished himself by 
 publishing several learned tracts in church history, and 
 a few critical dissertations. He was called from Rouen 
 to Charenton, in the neighbourhood of Paris. There 
 he had the charge of the principal church of the 
 Reformed in France, to which the French Protestants of 
 the highest rank constantly resorted. It was at Charen- 
 ton that, in opposition to the attacks of the bishop of 
 Meaux, and in defence of Protestant principles, he prea- 
 ched several sermons, which were afterwards published 
 in Holland ; and which are highly extolled by Mr Bayle. 
 Upon the revocation of the edict of Nantz in 1685, he 
 retired to England, where he was very favourably re- 
 ceived. He applied himself so diligently to the study 
 of the language, that he was able, in a short time, to 
 publish, in English, an excellent treatise on the truth 
 of the Christian religion. In 1690 he was honoured 
 with the degree of doctor in divinity ; and was appoin- 
 ted treasurer of the church of Salisbury. He continued 
 to publish a variety of able and useful works, chiefly 
 connected with ecclesiastical history, and calculated to 
 support the Protestant cause. He died at London. 
 February 21st, 1717, in the 76th year of his age. He 
 was endowed with great natural talents, well skilled in 
 general knowledge, and particularly acquainted with 
 every branch of theology. He enjoyed an uncommon
 
 ALL 
 
 ALL 
 
 5L 
 
 slurc of heiUth and spirits ; and \ras ver)' lively and 
 interesting in conversation. He was attentive to all 
 Jiis duties in public and private life, amiable in social 
 intercourse, respected for his integrity and upright- 
 ness, and admired for the depth and extent of his learn- 
 ing- (?) 
 
 ALLOA, a sea-port town in Scotland, in the county 
 
 of Clackmannan, situated upon the north side of the 
 Frith of Forth. Till very lately Alloa was ill supplied 
 with water, as is generally the case with towns which 
 are built on coal strata ; but it has been recently 
 brought in from the river at a considerable expense. 
 It is filtered through a circular bed of sand, and freed 
 from those sediments with which river water com- 
 monly abounds. The filter is about 70 feet diameter, 
 and after the plan of the inventor, Mr Gibb of Paisley. 
 
 Alloa has been long famous for its mines of coal, which 
 are of the best quality. Those known by the name of the 
 Alloa coals, have been wrought by the family of Mar for 
 iiearly two centuries. 
 
 The collieries, together with the distilleries in the 
 neighbourhood, are the principal support of the town. 
 The manufacture of a woollen stuff, named camblet, was 
 formerly carried on here to a considerable extent ; but at 
 present there is not a single loom employed in it. There 
 is a glass-house for the manufacture of common bottles, 
 most advantageously situated on the river side, and 
 where the coals are brought direct from the coal pits 
 to the furnace, by means of a waggon-way, which 
 renders the situation of the manufactory the best in Scot- 
 land. 
 
 The harbour of Alloa is safe and commodious, having 
 16 feet of water in neap tides, and 22 feet in spring 
 tides. It has been ascertained by actual survey, that 
 the bottom of the harbour is nearly on a level with the 
 top of the pier of Leith ; so that, if it were not that the 
 water was forced up above its level, there would be no 
 tide at Alloa. 
 
 There is a phenomenon regarding the tides, which is 
 very preceptible here, viz. a double tide at each flow- 
 ing and ebbing, which is termed the Leaky tide. When 
 the tide has apparently reached its lowest ebb, it begins 
 to flow ; but after having risen about two feet it again 
 ebbs, and falls lower than it did at first, and then it be- 
 gins to flow as usual. After having flowed to the ap- 
 parent pitch of high water, it ebbs about 18 inches, but 
 returns again, and rises sometimes two feet above the 
 first floAving. From this circumstance, it is common to 
 hear a sailor enquiring," if the tide is gone for all tides." 
 See Tides. 
 
 The port of Alloa comprehends the creeks on both 
 sides of the river, from Kincardine to Stirling inclusive. 
 The imports are chiefly coals, spirits, and bottles. The 
 coals are generally sent coastways to Leith and the Frith 
 of Tay, to the amount of about 35,000 tons per annum. 
 In the year 1 806, upwards of one million gallons of 
 whisky were shipped for the Scotch and English mar- 
 kets. The imports are chiefly grain, lime-stone, iron- 
 stone, and Baltic produce. 
 
 Adjoining to the harbour is an excellent dry dock, 
 ■suitable for large ships ; to the west of which is the 
 Alloa ferry, where the river is about 500 yards broad. 
 It has good piers, or landing places, carried down to 
 low water mark ; but the rapidity of the tides during 
 stream, and the floating ice in winter, render the passage 
 frequently tedious. The building of a bridge across 
 the river at this place has been long talked of; and 
 
 Vol. I. Part. II. 
 
 a survey was lately made by the celebrated Mr Ren- 
 nic, to ascertain the praclicability and expense of the 
 work. 
 
 To the east of the town stands the tower of Alloa, 
 built prior to the year 1.515, It was the residence of the 
 earls of Mar and their descendants till within these fev. 
 years, when the whole mansion-house, excepting the 
 tower, was burnt to the ground. The tower is 90 feet 
 high, and 1 1 feet thick in the walls. 
 
 The tower and lands of Alloa were exchanged by 
 David the II. king of Scotland, in 1305, with Thomas, 
 lord Erskinc, for the lands and estate of Strathgartncy, 
 in Perthshire. The pleasure grounds adjoining were, 
 laid out by John, earl of Mar, about the year 1700. 
 according to the French style, wiUi radiated avenues, 
 of trees, intersecting each other in every direction, 
 adorned with statues and ornaments, and were esteem- 
 ed superior to any thing of the kind in Scotland at that 
 period. 
 
 Many of the Scottish princes received their education 
 in the lower of Alloa ; as they were for more than two 
 hundred years wards of the lords Erskines and earls of 
 Mar, who were governors of Stirling castle, and who 
 also frequently held the other two principal fortresses, 
 Edinburgh and Stirling. There are still preserved in 
 the tower, the cradle of Henry, prince of Wales, the last 
 heir of the Scottish monarchy, and the child's chair of 
 James VI. Population 3000. W. Long. 3" 46'. N. Lat. 
 se'' 7'. (r. b.) 
 
 ALLOBROGES, a numerous and powerful people, 
 who inhabited that part of Gattiii jVardotiensis, or Pro- 
 vincia, which is known by the names of Dauphiny, 
 Savoy, and Piedmont. Their chief towns were Valcntia, 
 now Valence, Bautts .dnnesiam, now Anneci, and EfiO' 
 redia, now Ivrec. The Roman Consul Domitius having 
 marched into the territory of this people, and pitched his 
 camp near the village Vindalia, was attacked by the 
 Allobroges, who, after a bloody battle, were routed with 
 the loss of 23,000 men, of whom 20,000 were left dead 
 upon the field. This defeat, and another victory gained 
 over the Arvenni by Fabins Maximus, induced the 
 Allobroges to submit to the Roman sway ; and, in con- 
 sequence of tliis, the surname of Allobrox was conferred 
 upon Fabius. See Csesar's Commentaries, Tacit. 1. Hist. 
 cap. 66. Strabo, 4. (o) 
 
 ALLODIAL is a term applied to properly which a 
 person holds of his own right, or w hich is not held by 
 any feudal title. The word allodial is supposed by 
 some to be derived from a priv. and lode,, a German 
 word, signifying vassal ; while others have deduced it 
 from all and odh, property. Wachter imagines it to be 
 compounded of the German particle an and lot, so as to 
 signify land obtained by lot. See Robertson's Hist. Char. 
 V. vol. i. p. 255, 258, 4to ; Hume's Hist. Eng. vol. ii. p. 
 106, 8vo; and the word Feudal, where the subject will 
 be fully discussed, (o) 
 
 ALLOPHYLLUS, a genus of plants of the class Oc- 
 tandria and order Monogynia. See Botavy. («>) 
 
 ALLOY, is the name given to the compound formed 
 by the combination of two or more metals. In general, 
 the properties of each are considerably modified bv the 
 combination ; and many of tlie alloys are hence possess- 
 ed of qualities which render them of considerable im- 
 portance. The particular al'ovs, and the general nature 
 of tliis species of combination, fall to be considered under 
 Chemistry. (A) 
 
 ALLOY, or Allay, in coinage, is employed to sig- 
 3 T
 
 514 
 
 ALM 
 
 ALM 
 
 nify ilic propoition of any baser metal tliat is mixed wiih 
 gold oi- bilvcr. In gold coin, the alloy is silver and cop- 
 per, and copper alone is the alloy in silver coin. The 
 standard gold is 2 carats of alloy combined with 22 
 carats of tine gold, so as to make a pound troy. Stand- 
 ard silver consists of 18 penny- weights of copper alloy, 
 mixed with 11 ounces and 2 pcnny-wtights of fine sil- 
 ver, (w) 
 
 ALLUVIAL, a class of rocks comprehending those 
 mineral substances that have been formed from previ- 
 ously existing rocks, of which the materials have been 
 worn down by the agency uf air and water, and after- 
 wards deposited in nearly horizontal beds on the surface 
 of the land, or on sea-coasts. See Geognosy, (j) 
 
 ALLUVION, in Law, is that addition which may be 
 made to land situated on the sea-shorc, or on the banks 
 of a river by the retiring of the sea, or by any gradual 
 change in the direction or size of the river. The land 
 thus added belongs to the proprietor of the ground to 
 which the addition is made, provided that the change 
 has been effected by slow and imperceptible degrees. 
 But when this change is sudden, or when it is produced 
 by the violence of the stream, or any convulsion of na- 
 ture, the addition made to any property belongs to the 
 proprietor of the part which is thus added. In this case 
 it is called ylvulsio. See Blackstone's Commentaries., 
 vol. ii.p. 262. 8vo. and Bell's Diet, of the Laiv of Seot- 
 liuid. (y) 
 
 ALMAGEST, from the Arabic word Almagheati, is 
 the name of a work written by Ptolemy, containing a 
 catalogue of the fixed stars, and a collection of astrono- 
 mical observations and geometrical problems. It was 
 found at Alexandria by the Arabians, who translated it 
 into their language in 827, by the orders of Almamon. 
 The Greek text was found at Constantinople, and has 
 been translated into Latin, {nv') 
 
 ALMAGRO, Diego de, was horn about the year 
 1463; but very little is known concerning his parentage, 
 or the place of his nativity. He is said to have been a 
 foundling, and to have derived his name from the village 
 in which he was exposed. He was meanly educated, 
 and received no instructions eitlier in reading or writ- 
 ing; but by his own merit and exertions, he rose to 
 considerable eminence as a military character. He ac- 
 quired so much wealth and reputation among the Spa- 
 nish adventurers in Panama, that in 1524 he was asso- 
 ciated with Francisco Pizarro, and Fernando de Luque, 
 in an enterprize against Peru. They were very unsuc- 
 cessful in their first attempts ; and Almagro was repeat- 
 edly remanded to Panama, for supplies of stores and 
 troops. Their progress was retarded, and their soldiers 
 disheartened, by the frequent jealousies and contentions 
 which took place among the leaders of the expedition. 
 When they had procured an additional number of part- 
 ners in the enterprize, and were preparing a greater ar- 
 mament than usual, the governor of Panama refused to 
 renew their commission. Pizarro was sent therefore to 
 Old Spain, in order to solicit sufficient powers and sup- 
 plies. He was favourably received by the emperor 
 Charles V. and fully authorized to undertake the con- 
 quest of Peru. He obtained for himself the title of 
 Adelantado, or lieutenant-general, and the appointment 
 of governor of all the countries in South America, which 
 might be subdued under his auspices. Luque, who was 
 an ecclesiastic, was recommended to the pontiff, as 
 bishop and protector-general of the Indians ; while 
 .\lmagro was only appointed to the government of 
 
 TumboZ. With this arrangement he was naturally much 
 dissatisfied, accused Pizarro of a dishonourable inatten- 
 tion to the interest of his partners, and refused to ac- 
 company him any farther in the undertaking. Pizarro 
 found means to soothe the indignation of his associates, 
 pretended to transler to him the commission of Adelan- 
 tado, and promised to use his influence with the Spanish 
 court to procure a ratification of this assignment. The 
 three adventurers renewed their contract on its original 
 temis, that each should equally contribute to the ex- 
 pense of the enterprise, and equally share in its profits. 
 Pizarro sailed for Peru with a small armament in 1531, 
 and Almagro remained at Panama, in order to collect 
 farther reinforcements. By several remittances from 
 Pizarro, of gold and precious stones, the first fruits of 
 their daring adventure, he was enabled to carry to his 
 aid in the following year, 150 Spanish soldiers, and 50 
 horses. Scarcely had these two chiefs united their forces, 
 when their foiiner animosities were rekindled, and Pi- 
 zarro was made to believe that his colleague had planned 
 a separate expedition ; but Almagro discovering that his 
 own secretary had been peculiarly active in exciting 
 these dissensions, put him to death, and cjuieted the 
 suspicions of Pizarro. Previous to the arrival of Alma- 
 gro, Pizarro had treacherously seized die person of Ata- 
 balipa, or Atahualapa, the Inca of Peru ; and this prince 
 had collected an immensity of golden vessels as his ran- 
 som. The troops, who had come with Almagro, de- 
 manded an equal share in the whole spoil, and new 
 treasures were necessary to gratify their avarice, and 
 appease their complaints. These were sought by the 
 most barbarous measures ; and the Peruvian king was 
 put to death, that the riches of his kingdom might be 
 more easily possessed. To secure the countenance and 
 protection of the Spanish government, Pizarro's brother, 
 Ferdinando, was sent to Spain with an account of their 
 success, and with that portion of the plunder which be- 
 longed to the king. Almagro embraced this opportunity 
 of soliciting a government independent of Pizarro, and 
 requested that he might be constituted Adelantado of 
 certain countries, beyond the district which had been 
 assigned to his associate. Ferdinando succeeded in all 
 his negociations ; and Almagro, to whose history we are 
 at present more particularly confined, was loaded with 
 honours, and invested with authority. He was created 
 marquis of Peru, appointed to a jurisdiction 200 leagues 
 in extent, and empow ered to make discoveries as he 
 might think proper. New dissensions arose between 
 the two chiefs, as to the boundaries of their respective 
 provinces, and particularly as to the city of Cusco. Al- 
 magro was at length persuaded to withdraw his claims, 
 and to turn his arms against the country of Chili. In- 
 flamed by the exaggerated accounts which he had re- 
 ceived of the wealth of that district, he resolved to reach 
 it by the shortest route; crossed the Andes with the « 
 
 utmost difficulty, and with the loss of many of his fol- 
 lowers, and, in the space of five months, reduced the 
 greater part of the territories allotted him. In the 
 midst of his conquests, he received the emperor's com- 
 mission ; and discovered from it, that Cusco was un- 
 questionably situated within his department. He re- 
 solved to return, without delay, in order to take posses- ^ 
 sion of that city ; and he accomplished a march through 
 a burning sandy desert of 200 miles in breadth. In the 
 mean time, F'crdinando Pizarro had received the city of 
 Cusco from his brother, upon condition of making the 
 remittances which had been promised to the court of
 
 ALMAGRO. 
 
 I J 
 
 Spain; and he refused to surrender it without farther 
 instructions. Almagro, however, (wliosc li uiik una ge- 
 nerous conduct, conti-asted with the haughty and tyranni- 
 cal manners of the Pizarros, had rendered him the fa- 
 vourite of the Spanish soldiery, and still more so of the 
 Indian troops,) was enabled to introduce his forces into 
 the city under night, to seize the persons of his oppo- 
 nents, and to engage the greater part of the garrison 
 in his service. He defeated and took prisoner Alonzo 
 de Alvarado, who had been despatched by Pizarro with 
 a body of 5oO Spanish troops for the defence of Cusco ; 
 and, had he not been more attentive to the voice of 
 humanity and justice than his rival, he would have tri- 
 umphed in the contest. He rejected the barbarous ad- 
 vice which was given him, to put to death the two bro- 
 thers of Pizarro, who were in his power. He refused t(j 
 attack Pizarro himself in Lima, because it was not in 
 his province. And he resolved to remain entirely upon 
 the defensive, because he wished to make no encroach- 
 ments on the jurisdiction of his opponent, but only to 
 maintain his own. In consequence of this adherence to 
 his duty, and of the deceitful negociations of Pizarro, 
 Almagro abstained from all offensive operations, till his 
 enemy had procured the release of his brothers, had 
 collected an army of 500 men, and had reached the 
 plains of Cusco. Almagro, contrary to his own opinion, 
 was compelled by the importunity of his officers, to leave 
 the city, and to meet Pizarro in the field ; but, worn out 
 by fatigue, enfeebled by age, confined by indisposition to 
 a litter, and unable to direct the arrangement of his 
 troops in person, he was obliged to commit the conduct 
 of the battle to Orgognez, one of his best officers. The 
 engagement was obstinate and bloody ; but, Orgognez 
 being wounded, Almagro was routed and made prisoner. 
 The conquerors committed the greatest barbarities up- 
 on their rival countrymen, gratified their private resent- 
 ments with savage vengeance, and butchered, in cold 
 blood, the individual objects of their hatred. Almagro 
 was kept several months in confinement, uncerfain of 
 his fate. He was at length brought to trial, charged with 
 high treason, and condemned to suffer death. In vain 
 did he implore the clemency of his judges, and appeal 
 to the tribunal of the emperor. The Pizarros were bent 
 upon the destruction of Almagro, as their only rival in 
 Peru. He was first strangled in private, and then be- 
 headed publicly on a scaffold ; his body stripped naked, 
 and left exposed in the streets. His friends were all in 
 custody, and his enemies were destitute of humanity. 
 An aged slave at length carried away the remains of his 
 master, and buried them at the hazard of his own life. 
 In this manner did Almagro terminate his adventurous 
 career, in the 75th year of his age. He cannot be ac- 
 quitted from the heavy charge of blood, which lies 
 against all the conquerors of South America ; but he 
 had more of the feelings of a man than the rest of his 
 associates. Equal to any of them in point of an enter- 
 prising spirit, and military skill, he surpassed them all 
 in generosity and good faith. His friends, whom he en- 
 gaged by the frankness and liberality of his conduct, 
 deeply regretted his fall ; and the Indians, whom he 
 had often protected from the rigour and rapacity of the 
 other commanders, honoured his ashes with tears of 
 unfeigned sorrow. Mod. Un. Hist. vol. xxxviii. p. 289 — 
 366. Robertson's .America, (r/) 
 
 ALMAGRO, son of Diego de Almagro and an Indian 
 woman, was about sixteen years of age at the time of his 
 .father's death ; and was left heir to his estate, as well as 
 
 successor to his government. But he was dispossessed 
 of both by Pizarro, and confined as a prisoner in Lima. 
 He resembled his fallier in courage and generosity; 
 while he excelled him in personal accomplishments, and 
 the advantages of education. He was, in every respect, 
 well cakuiated to attach to himself the friends oi his 
 father, and to conduct them in any allcnipt to recover 
 their possessions and power. I'ul all, who favoured his 
 cause, were persecuted by Pizarro, with unrelenting 
 severity. Stigmatized and outlawed, their condition was 
 completely deplorable, and their spirits were rendered 
 desperate. Determined to avenge the murder of their 
 former leader, the cruel treatment of his son, and their 
 own aggravated injuries, they ranged themselves under 
 the command of the young Almagro, and began to con- 
 cert plots against the life of Pizarro. In the mean time, 
 they were reduced to such extremities, that Almagro, 
 and seven of his friends, possessed only one cloak among 
 them, which they used by turns, when they went abroad 
 to view the aspect of their affairs. When their party 
 amounted to three hundred, they resolved, without far- 
 ther delay, to avenge themselves upon tbeir tyrannical 
 oppressor; and, after having been foiled in several of 
 their scheines, they decided, as their last resource, to 
 make a direct attack upon the person of Pizarro. Thir- 
 teen of the most daring, witli Almagro at their head, 
 and with drawn swords in their hands, rushed towards 
 the palace of their adversary, crying aloud, " Long live 
 the king, but let the tyrant perish." — After a desperate 
 conflict, and a most heroic resistance, Pizarro sunk under 
 the fury of their assault. Returning to the market-place, 
 they congratulated their friends who were there assem- 
 bled, and proclaimed Almagro governor of Peru. The 
 majority of the Spaniards and Indians, with the Inca, 
 Manco Capac, acknowledged his authority; but many 
 refused to declare themselves, till the arrival of Baca 
 de Castro. This nobleman was on his way from the Spa- 
 nish court, invested with a commission to examine into 
 the differences between Almagro and Pizarro, and ap- 
 pointed successor to the latter in case of his decease. 
 
 In consequence of the misconduct of the insurgents, 
 and the respect which was entertained for the royal 
 mandate, the party of the new viceroy daily increased 
 in strength. The ardom- with which the Spaniards had 
 supported the cause of Almagro, was greatly cooled by 
 the violent measures of his friends ; and he himself was 
 strongly reprobated for having cruelly tortured and put 
 to death Pizarro's secretary, Picado. Dissentions arose 
 among his principal officers, and a conspiracy even had 
 been formed against his life. He hastened, therefore, 
 as speedily as possible, to oppose the progress of De 
 Castro; and he began his march with 700 veteran Span- 
 ish soldiers, and several thousand Indians. He was de- 
 sirous to come to a friendly accommodation; but deter- 
 mined, if that could not be done, to support his claims 
 by force. Proposals were made by both parties, and 
 negociations commenced ; but Almagro, having found 
 reasons to suspect De Castro's sincerity, and having ac- 
 tually detected his attempts to seduce his adherents, 
 prepared to decide their differences by the sword. The 
 two armies met in the vale of Chapas. More than one 
 half of the troops on both sides were killed or wounded 
 in the engagement ; but through the treachery of Alma- 
 gro's commander of artillery, his party was defeated, 
 and driven from the field. Almagro himself, after hav- 
 ing given the most astonishing proofs of his intrepidity 
 and skill, saved himself by flight, and sought refuge in 
 3 T 2
 
 .16 
 
 ALM 
 
 AL3I 
 
 Uie city ofCusco; but the very friends whom he had in- 
 vested with the government of the town, delivered hhn 
 up to the victorious viceroy. With scarcely the for- 
 mality of a trial, he was instantly beheaded, in the 20 ih 
 year of his age. By his death the name of his family 
 became extinct, and his party was completely suppress- 
 ed. M'jd. Un. Hist. vol. xxxviii. p. 336 — 390. Robert- 
 son's History of America. [//) 
 
 ALMAMON, a celebrated astronomer, and one of 
 the caliphs of Bagdad, was the second son of the caliph 
 Harun-al-Rascl)id, and was born in the year 78C. Ha- 
 run, who died in 809, endeavoured to provide for the 
 tranquillity of his subjects, by appointing his children 
 to reign in succession ; but the wise views of the caliph 
 were soon frustrated by the vices and incapacity of his 
 eldest son. No sooner had Al Amin assumed the reins 
 of government, than he began to display that villainy of 
 character which embittered his short and turbulent 
 I'cign. From motives which neitiier ambition nor in- 
 terest could inspire, he cherished the most unnatural 
 resentment against Almamon, and formed the design 
 of excluding him from the succession. His first ag- 
 gression was to order the forces of his brother, who 
 was governor of Khorasan, to repair to Bagdad ; but 
 this insult did not shake the fidelity of Almamon, who 
 continued to support the government of his brother, and 
 even commanded the inhabitants of Khorasan to swear 
 allegiance to Al Amin. This act of generosity, how- 
 ever, did not disarm the hostility of the caliph : De- 
 voted to gaming, and stupified by intoxication, he aban- 
 doned the direction of his government to an unprinci- 
 pled vizier, who persuaded him to proclaim war against 
 his brother. A force of 60,000 men were instantly 
 despatclied to the frontiers of Khorasan ; but Almamon 
 was prepared to oppose them with a powerful army, 
 under the command of Thahen-ebn-Hosein, one of the 
 most skilful generals of the age. After a few engage- 
 ments justice triumphed over oppression; the army of 
 Al Amm was dispersed ; the provinces of Syria, Egypt, 
 Yemen, and liejaz, submitted to the conqueror, and Al- 
 mamon was proclaimed caliph throughout the depen- 
 dencies of Bagdad. This successful campaign paved 
 the way for a complete revolution, in which Al A.min 
 Was deposed and assassinated, and the full possession of 
 the caliphate conveyed to Almamon, (A. D. 213.) But 
 this illustrious prince was not permitted to seat himself 
 quietly on his throne. While he wielded the sceptre in 
 one hand, he was obliged to brandish his sword in the 
 other. At the instigation of his vizier Fadel, he publicly 
 avowed his attachment to the sect of Ali, and obliged 
 his courtiers and soldiers to assume the green turban, 
 which was the badge of this Mahometan party. The 
 house of Abbas and the orthodox Mussulmans, alanned 
 at the preference which was thus publicly shown to their 
 enemies, excited an insurrection in the metropolis, and 
 proclaitiied Ibrahim, Almamon's uncle, caliph of Bag- 
 dad. These commotions would have overturned the 
 throne of any other sovereign than Almamon ; but by 
 the vigour of his eflbrts, and the prudence of his ad- 
 ministration, he succeeded in extinguishing the flame 
 which was about to involve his subjects in all the hor- 
 rors of a civil wat'. The assassination of his vizier by 
 the insurgents contributed to allay the popular discon- 
 tent. His death was regarded as an atonement for the 
 injuries of the people : Their rebellious spirits fell : Ib- 
 rahim was deposed ; and the inhabitants of Bagdad again 
 submitted to the goverument of Almamon. During 
 
 these commotions, Thalcn revolted against his mas- 
 ter; and having usurped the government of Khora- 
 san, he establislied a dynasty whicli continued foi' sixty 
 years. 
 
 No sooner was tranquillity restored at Bagdad, than 
 Almamon began to mature tl»ose great and liberal plans, 
 which, even in early life, he had formed for the civili- 
 zation of his subjects. During the reign of his father, 
 when he had scarcely arrived at the age of manhood, 
 he had established a society at Khorasan, directed by 
 Mesne, a celebrated Christian physician from Damascus, 
 and composed of the most eminent men of various na- 
 tions, whom he had hivited into his territories. The 
 appointment of a Christian to a high office in a Maho- 
 metan country, did not fail to excite the pious alarms 
 of the faithful. The caliph Harun remonstrated against 
 the imprudence of his son ; but Almamon reminded 
 him, that the learning of the times was confined to Jews 
 and Christians, and that Mesne was not a teacher of 
 religion, but of learning. Wlien Almamon succeeded 
 to the throne, his efforts for the diffusion of knowledge 
 among his subjects increased with his power. Ho 
 formed an academy at Bagdad, and invited to his me- 
 tropolis, from every quarter, the most distinguished 
 scholars and philosophers of the age. He visited in 
 person the schools which he established throughout 
 his dominions. The respect which he felt due to ta- 
 lents, he willingly paid to the professors and teachers 
 of youth; and by his influence, as well as his example, 
 he gave encouragement to every plan which had the re- 
 motest tendency to advance the interests of science, or 
 form the minds of his people. A proficient in the sci- 
 ence of astronomy, he knew the value of that sublime 
 and interesting study, and laboured to expand the minds 
 of his countrymen with the grand and elevating views 
 which it unfolds. By the command of Almamon, the 
 Zvtra^ii Miyi^r,, or Almagest of Ptolemy, a complete 
 body of astronomical science, was translated into the 
 Arabic language ; and a new work, which still exists 
 in MS. was composed upon the same subject, entitled 
 '■^Astronoinia elaborata a Compluribusi D. D.jussu Regis 
 JSIaimon." With the rude instruments of his time, he 
 observed the obliquity of the ecliptic, and employed the 
 ablest geometers to measure a degree of the meridian 
 upon the extensive plains of Mesopotamia. 
 
 By thus encouraging the advancement of literature, 
 and by translating the most valuable works from the 
 Greek, Chaldean, Persian, and Coptic languages, a love 
 of learning, and a spirit of inquiry, were inspired into 
 his subjects ; and the untamed and ferocious minds of 
 the Saracens, were softened by the influence of know- 
 ledge and refinement, when surrounding nations were 
 sunk in ignorance and barbarity. These innovations 
 did not escape the prying notice of the orthodox Mus- 
 sulmans. They munnured at the religious toleration 
 which reigned throughout the dominions of Almamon, 
 and denounced him as an infidel for affording an asylum 
 to Christian heretics, who trampled upon the holy doc- 
 trines of the prophet. 
 
 While Almamon was realizing these enlightened 
 views, his attention was occasionally diverted by some 
 petty warfares, which we cannot stop to record. A re- 
 bellion in Egypt compelled him to march to that dis- 
 tant province, from which he was destined never to re- 
 turn. After quelling the insurrection, and penetrating 
 into the dominions of the Greek emperor, he directed 
 his march towards Bagdad. His camp was pitched on
 
 ALM 
 
 ALM 
 
 517 
 
 ilie banks of the river Badaiiclun. Impelled by thirst, 
 he drank freely from the stream, and having aftcr- 
 Tv^rds eaten plentifully of dates, he was seized with a 
 violent fever, whieh terminated his existence in the 
 48ih or 49th year of his age, after a brilliant reign of 
 nearly 2 1 years. 
 
 In retracing the events of Almamdft's reign, it is dif- 
 ficult to persuade ourselves that we have been reading 
 the history of a period coeval nearly with the darkest 
 ages of Europe. At a time when the very name of a 
 Christian was oftensive to the followers of llie prophet ; 
 and when the sectaries even of the Christian church 
 were hunting each other down, by the most atrocious 
 persecutions, we find a Saracen caliph, who was far 
 from being indifferent to the interests of his faith, invi- 
 ting Christians into his dominions, living in amity with 
 men of every religion, and governing his people on the 
 broad and liberal principles of universal toleration. 
 While the fairest parts of Europe were enveloped in 
 the thickest darkness, the rays of science were gilding 
 the horizon of Bagdad ; and the few votaries of wisdom, 
 whom time and superstition had spared, were instilling 
 lessons of knowledge and virtue into the minds of the 
 Saracens. And yet these were the people, whom, but 
 a few centuries afterwards, the barbarous crusaders of 
 Europe combined to extirpate ! 
 
 There is, perhaps, no portion of history more preg- 
 nant with instruction than that of the caliphate of Al- 
 mamon. Legislators and statesmen may learn from it, 
 that religious liberty, and the cultivation of the public 
 mind, are the grand secrets of national tranquillity ; and 
 that unless the heterogeneous materials of which every 
 state is composed, are consolidated by some common 
 tie of interest or affection, they will prove the elements 
 of perpetual discord. There are, perhaps, no two sys- 
 tems of Christian faith at such decided variance, as 
 were the Mahometan houses of Ali and Abbas. By 
 the advice of a wrong-headed minister, Almamon at- 
 tempted to elevate his favourite sect ; but he soon re- 
 pented of his rashness, and changed his schemes of re- 
 ligious exclusion into a system of unlimited toleration. 
 The only commotions which disturbed his reign sprang 
 from the attempt to depress the house of Abbas ; and 
 had he persisted in his views, Ibrahim would have con- 
 tinued to reign. But when he began to govern on more 
 liberal principles, he gained the hearts even of those 
 who had raised his rival to the throne: He was rein- 
 stated in the caliphate, and thus secured tranquillity to 
 himself, and happiness to his people. 
 
 The private character of Almamon was marked by 
 virtues of the most amiable kind. Magnanimous and 
 merciful he never exhibited the harsh and unbending 
 features of a Saracen conqueror. He had learned to 
 forgive even his enemies, and he derived the most un- 
 mingled pleasure from such dispensations of mercy. 
 After his uncle Ibrahim had been dragged from his 
 concealment in Bagdad, and condemned to die by the 
 council, he was brought into the presence of Almamon : 
 "Your counsellors," said Ibrahim, " have judged accord- 
 ing to the rules of government ; if you pardon me you 
 will not indeed judge according to precedent, but you 
 will have no eqiv.il among sovereigns." The feelings 
 of Almamon were roused at this appeal to his affections : 
 Embracing his relation, he tenderly replied, " Uncle, be 
 of good cheer, I will not injure you." Ibrahim was 
 instantly released, and a fortune suitable to his rank 
 was provided for him by his generous nephew. The 
 
 compliments wliicli were on this occasion paid to Al- 
 mamon by his courtiers, drew from him this noble ex- 
 clamation ; — "Did men but know the pleasure I feel in 
 pardoning, all who have offended me would come and 
 confess their faults." See An(|uetil, ///*/. Univers. iom. 
 V. p. 105, 6, 7, 8. Hardion, /list. Univcrn. torn. ii. p. 
 737. Modem Univ. Hist. vol. ii. p. 176. Hist. de» 
 Mathcmat. /lar Montucla, tom. i. p. 356. D'Herbclot 
 Jii6/i'j//i. Oricnl.voc. Ahn'dnwn. See Alkendi. (/3) 
 
 ALMANAC, from the Arabic o/ and manac/i, to count, 
 a book, or diary ; containing the days of the year; the 
 feasts of the calendar ; the phenomena of the tides ; the 
 rising, southing, and setting of the sun, moon, and the 
 other planets ; the eclipses of the sun and moon ; the 
 occultation of the planets and stars ; and the position 
 and aspects of the heavenly bodies. 
 
 Almanacs seem to have been first constructed by the 
 Arabians, from whom they were probably introduced 
 into Europe by the Saracens. The celebrated astrono- 
 mer Regiomontanus seems to have been the first who 
 computed an almanac resembling those which now ex- 
 ist. It is said to have appeared in 1474. The Nautical 
 Almanac, published by order of the commissioners of 
 Longitude, is the most correct and valuable work of this 
 kind, and shall be described in its proper place, {o) 
 
 ALMANDINE. See Alabandine. 
 
 ALMANSOR, was the second caliph of the Abas- 
 sides, and succeeded his brother in the year 753. No 
 sooner was he seated on the throne, and proclaimed ca- 
 liph in Anbar, the capital of the Moslem empire, than 
 his uncle Abdallah-ebn-Ali laid claim to the sovereignty, 
 and levied a powerful army to support his ambitious pre- 
 tensions. The forces of Almansor, commanded by Abu- 
 Moslem, attacked the rebels on the banks of the Masius, 
 near Nisibis, and, by a total defeat, in 754, crushed the 
 power of the insurgents. The talents of Abu-Moslem, 
 and the services which he had rendered the caliph, did 
 not screen him from the insidious plans of his enemies. 
 He became an object of jealousy with Almansor, who 
 ordered him to be assassinated in his presence. 
 
 The other commotions which disturbed the tranquillity 
 of Almansor's reign, are too insignificant to be narrated 
 here. Having detected a conspiracy to dethrone him, 
 he put to death most of the rebels. His uncle Abdallah, 
 who had been assured of pardon, was confined in a 
 building which was so constructed, as to fall to pieces, 
 and crush him in its ruins. Almansor had the honour 
 of building the city of Bagdad, where he fixed the resi- 
 dence of his government, in 768. In 774, when on a 
 pilgrimage to Mecca, he was seized with a mortal dis- 
 ease ; and having sent for his son and successor, Al 
 Mohdi, he gave him the following advice, worthy the at- 
 tention of princes. " Treat your relations every where 
 with the greatest marks of distinction. Increase the 
 number of your freedmen, and load them with kindness ; 
 they will be of use to you in adversity : Never permit 
 any of your women to intermeddle in affairs of state, nor 
 to have too much influence over your counsels. These 
 are my last commands, and to God I recommend you." 
 Pursuing his journey towards Mecca, he died at Bir- 
 Maimun, at the age of 63, and in the 21st year of his 
 reign. 
 
 The most opposite qualities were combined in the 
 formation of Almansor's character. In private life, he 
 was mild, affable, and affectionate ; but in the capacity 
 of a sovereign, he was cruel, implacable, and treacher- 
 ous. His attachment to the peaceful pursuits of literature
 
 518 
 
 ALM 
 
 ALM 
 
 ami astroiiom) , was not able to wear off the asperities 
 of his public character. He had the high honour of 
 being the great grand-father of Almamon. See Modern 
 Univ. Hist. vol. ii. p. 100. (&) 
 
 ALMANZA, a small town in New Castile, in Spain, 
 remarkable for the battle fought in its neighbourhood, in 
 1707, in which the French, under marshal Berwick, de- 
 feated the allies under the marquis de las Minos, and 
 the earl of Galway, and secured the Spanish throne for 
 Philip the V. Population 1600. {in) 
 
 ALMEH, or Alma, in Eastern manners, singing or 
 dancing girls, w ho, like the improvisatori of Italy, can oc- 
 casionally pour forth extemporaneous poetry. We have 
 been favoured with an account of an entertainment given 
 by a native of the country to the ladies and gentlemen of 
 tiie Presidency of Madras, treating concisely on the 
 general principle of their dancing and singing, which we 
 shall introduce after having given an account of the an- 
 tiquity, customs, and manners, of this class of females. 
 
 The practice of educating and maintaining dancing 
 girls, appears to have existed among the Hindoos from 
 the remotest ages. From them the custom descended 
 to the Israelites, as we learn from the history of David. 
 They are called almeli, because they are better educated 
 than the other females of the country, in which they 
 form a celebrated society, and the entertainment which 
 they supply is called natch, or the feats of dancing 
 girls. 
 
 The qualifications requisite for admission mto the so- 
 ciety of these females, are a good voice, a knowledge of 
 the language, and of the rules of poetry, and an ability to 
 adapt their songs to the occasion on which they have 
 been called. They add to the splendour and the enter- 
 tainment of a marriage, where they precede the bride, 
 playing on instruments ; and they increase the lamenta- 
 tions and the solemnity of funerals, by every tone of sor- 
 row, and every gesture of grief and of despair. It is, 
 however, but for the rich men and the powerful, that the 
 most elegant class allow themselves to mourn, or to re- 
 joice. In the lower order, there is also an inferior class, 
 whose imitations of the former are but humble ; without 
 the knowledge, the elegance, or the grace of the higher 
 order, they frequent the public places and the general 
 walks ; and to a polished mind, create disgust when they 
 wish to allure. The almeh of the higher class know by 
 heart all the new songs ; they commit to memory the 
 most beautiful elegiac hymns, that bewail the death of 
 a hero, or the successes or misfortunes incident to love. 
 No festival can be complete without their attendance ; 
 nor is there an entertainment in which the almeh is not 
 an ornament, or the chief excitement of pleasurable, and 
 too popular sensations. 
 
 If the European of high life has instrumental music 
 during his public entertainments, the more luxurious 
 Asiatic produces enjoyments for the eye and for the ear. 
 Senses equally capricious are regaled with sensations 
 niore entrancing and aerial than the gross enjoyments of 
 the palate. When the stranger has been satiated, and 
 the taste has been glutted with its enjoyment, the al- 
 meh descend into the saloon, and form dances unallied in 
 either figure or step to those of Europe. The usual oc- 
 currences of life are sometimes represented by them ; 
 hut they are principally employed to depict the origin, 
 the growth, the successes, the misfortunes, or the mys- 
 teries of love. Their bodies are surprisingly flexible, 
 and their command of countenance leads the spectator 
 almost from the fable of Uie scene, to the reality of life ; 
 
 the ladccency of their attitudes and of liieir dress is fre- 
 quently carried to excess. Their looks, their gestures, 
 every thing speaks the wamth of their agitations, and 
 that with so unequivocal or so bold an accent, that a 
 foreigner to their language needs not a preparation for 
 the approaching witchery of feeling ; they lay aside 
 their veils, and with them their small remains of female 
 timidity. A long robe of very thin silk goes down t» 
 their heels, which is but slightly fastened with a rich 
 girdle, perhaps the original of the ceslus, whilst their 
 long black hair, braided and perfumed, entangles and 
 captivates, in the language of the poet of Shiray, " the 
 hearts of their beholders." A shift, as transparent as 
 Uie finest gauzes of their country, scarcely hides their 
 bosoms, which they wish as little to conceal ; the shape, 
 the contour of their bodies, seem to develope themselves 
 successively, as their motions are regulated Ijy the 
 sounds of the flute, the castanet, the tambours de basque, 
 and the cymbals. Whilst their inclinations are in- 
 flamed by songs adapted to the scene, they appear in an 
 intoxication of the senses, in a voluptuous delirium ; 
 they tlirow off every reserve, they abandon themselves 
 to the overwhelming disorder of their senses ; and then 
 it is that a people, who, in their chastest moments, are 
 far from delicate, and who almost detest the retiring 
 modesty of nature ; then it is that their auditors re- 
 double their applauses, which, stimulating the almeh, 
 increase their efforts to delight and entrance the specta- 
 tors. 
 
 But it is not to the desire of the eye, the gratification 
 of the ear, or to the fulfilment of loose, inordinate, and 
 grosser excitements, that the almeh of the distinguished 
 class confine their meretricious interference. Their 
 qualifications introduce them into the harams as well as 
 the saloons of the great ; these girls, with cultivated un- 
 derstandings, with a peculiar purity of phraseology, and 
 the most engaging softness of manners, obtained from 
 so entire a dedication of themselves to poetry, and the 
 kinder feelings, possess a familiarity with the softest 
 as well as the most sonorous expressions of their lan- 
 guage. They repeat with a great deal of grace, and 
 they sing the unsophisticated harmonies or airs of their 
 country, without " the borrowed aid of Italian art." We 
 shall now proceed to give an account of the education 
 of the almeh. 
 
 This race of women among the Hindoos, Sec. is formed 
 into three grand divisions. 
 
 1st, A particular set is employed in the service of the 
 temples, where dancing is performed at regulated inter- 
 vals. These are not remarkable for their beauty, be- 
 cause they are the refuse of the following class. 
 
 2d, The fashionable set — The women in this class are 
 invariably preferred ; they are accomplished in every art 
 of allurement ; they are generally handsome ; they live 
 decently, with the exceptions of their profession ; and 
 the greatest number of them are in comfortable (pecu- 
 niary) situations. 
 
 The 3d and lowest class, are a shameless race. They 
 are the common women, who have no pretensions to any 
 sort of acquirements, and wholly depend for the neces- 
 saries of life on the trade to which they are devoted. 
 
 The fashionable class, with whose theatrical repre- 
 sentations the " great vulgar" is entertained, are origi- 
 nally descended from the tribe of Kicotas, or weavers, 
 who from immemorial usage had dedicated the female 
 offspring of each family to the service of the temples and 
 the public. Happy for human nature, this absurd and
 
 ALM 
 
 ALM 
 
 519 
 
 liegrading custom is not in much practice now ; as the 
 uninterrupted employment which that class lind under 
 the auspices of the honourable company, together with 
 the amelioration of their circumstances, has improved 
 their feelings of honour and of virtue. The deficiency 
 arising from the above cause, is made up by the pur- 
 chase of girls from different parts of the country, where 
 the calamities of war and of famine, domestic misfor- 
 tunes, and peculiar religious customs, drive parents to 
 the necessity of disposing of their children. An elderly 
 woman, and one or two girls, form a set, which is distin- 
 guished after the young or the old lady's name, as for- 
 tune, fame, or chance, may render either of them con- 
 spicuous. The young girls are sent to the dancing- 
 school at about five or six years of age ; and at eight 
 they begin to learn music, either vocal or instrumental ; 
 some attain a great proficiency in dancing, others in 
 singing ; but the first art is limited to a certain period 
 of life ; for dancing, in the Hindoo style, requires great 
 agility and strength of constitution : and no female after 
 the age of 25 years is reckoned competent to the task. 
 
 The expense attending the education of a girl, with 
 such accomplishments, will probably amount to between 
 three and four hundred pagodas. This is either managed 
 by contracts, or monthly payment, to the JVatuva, the 
 dancing-master, and Patacci, the singer. 
 
 When the girl attains a certain degree of proficiency, 
 the friends and the relations of the old mother are invited ; 
 and after observing certain formalities and ceremonies, the 
 yo\xn^ as/iirante'xs introduced into the assembly; where 
 her merit and her proficiency arc examined and tried. 
 
 The expense of this first exhibition is great, including 
 the presents to the dancing-master : and it is supported 
 either by the betrothed gallant of the girl, or the friend 
 of her mother. After this ceremony, and not till then, 
 the set gain admittance to the favour of the public, and 
 are asked to attend marriages and every other enter- 
 tainment, funerals, and every other solemnity. 
 
 With regard to their revenues, the first source of 
 emolument proceeds from their destination as public 
 women. When the young female arrives at the age of 
 puberty, she is consigned to the protection of a man 
 who generally pays a large premium, besides a suitable 
 montldy allowance : changes of protectors are made as 
 often as it suits the conveniency and advantage of the 
 old matron. 
 
 The second channel of benefit arises from the pre- 
 sents made to them for dancing and singing : unfortu- 
 nately no standard of hire was ever established, but it 
 is entirely left to the arrangements of the parties. 
 
 A set will probably receive from 30 to 500 rupees for 
 the performance of three or four days, as the circum- 
 stances and disposition of the person who requests their 
 attendance may admit; sometimes the spectators give 
 a few rupees to them, either from liberality or vanity. 
 The produce of this supply goes in shares to every in- 
 dividual forming the set thus : Five or ten per cent, on 
 the wliole is taken off for charities ; the residue is then 
 divided into two shares, one of which is allowed to the 
 dancing woman, the other subdivided into 6^ shares, of 
 which 2-2 are given to J\''atux'a, or the dancing-master ; 
 1^ to Pataca, or the singer; 1 to Pil/cnigolo, or the 
 flute-player; li to Afaddalagar, or the trumpeter; l^ 
 to Srutyman, or the bellows blower ; this is paid by the 
 dancing woman out of her share. 
 
 It is stated, that Bharata Nateya, or dancing, should 
 be composed of five angas, parts or divisions. 1st, JVata, 
 
 the Pictaman, wlio regulates the time, equivalent to 
 the ancient Coryphaeus, and our leader or timeist ; 2d, 
 Mindcnga, or small drum; 3d, Pataca, the singer; 
 4thly, Unites, the bellows, which blows the easy tunes; 
 and Sthly, Patra, the female, who recites. An actress, 
 as we before mentioned, must be yo\nig and healthy ; 
 the females of Siata, Gohorjara, and Sourastra, are said, 
 in the Pooranas, to be beautiful. The females of Car- 
 nata Virata are pretty, and the girls of Dravida are ot 
 the ordinary kind. Madras is situated in the last divi- 
 sion of the country, so that their dancing girls are not 
 remarkable for personal beauty. See Wittman's Tra- 
 vels in Asiatic Turkey, p. 376, and Savary's Letters, vol. 
 i. p. 176. (e) 
 
 ALMERIA, the Magnus Partus of the ancients, is 
 a sea-port town in Granada, in Spain, which has now 
 dwindled into insignificance. It was formerly the strong- 
 est place in the possession of the Moors, from whom 
 it was taken by don Alphonso, in 1 147, assisted by the 
 French, Genoese, and Pisans. In the distribution of 
 the plunder, the Genoese obtained the valuable eme- 
 rald vessel, which still remains in their treasury. Many 
 valuable minerals are said to be found in the neighbour- 
 hood of Almeria, and its climate and productions have 
 been highly praised by travellers. W. Long. 2° 15'. N. 
 Lat. 36° 5 1'. (to) 
 
 ALMEYDA, Don Francis, the first Portuguese 
 viceroy of the East Indies. After the Portuguese had 
 been a short time settled in India, the Mahometans 
 foreseeing that their hiterference would ruin their com- 
 merce, succeeded in exciting the jealousy of the Samo- 
 rin, (the title of the sovereign who reigned at Calicut,) 
 to such a degree, that he requested the assistance of 
 the Mamelukes, to enable him to expel the strangers, 
 whom he was taught to consider as the invaders of his 
 dominions. The news of these proceedings spread great 
 consternation amongst the Portuguese in India, and 
 obliged them to send to Portugal, to request immediate 
 assistance. Upon this don Francis Almeyda, count 
 d'Abrantes, was despatched with thirteen large vessels, 
 and six smaller ones, and a considerable number of 
 troops on board. On arriving in India, he took the 
 most effectual methods to promote the Portuguese in- 
 terest. During his administration the great island of 
 Madagascar was discovered. His son, Lorenzo Almey- 
 da, first surveyed the Maldive islands, and afterwards 
 discovered Ceylon, the chief monarch of which he 
 compelled to submit to the power of Portugal. This 
 gallant young man fell in a great naval engagement with 
 the Samorin, in which, however, the ships under his 
 command gained a decisive victory. Almeyda was su- 
 perseded in his command by the famous Alphonso Al- 
 buquerque afterwards so renowned in India. Having 
 resigned the command, he prepared to return to Europe 
 with the great riches which he had acquired. He found 
 it necessary to land on the coast of Africa, for the pur- 
 pose of procuring some fresh provisions. Here a dispute 
 arose between some of his sailors and the natives, in 
 which Almeyda imprudently interfering, was slain, to- 
 gether with 57 of his attendants, {if) 
 
 ALMIRANTE Islands, a cluster of small islands 
 on the coast of Zanguehar, in Africa. They lie be- 
 tween the parallels of E. Longitude 51° 40', and 52° 50', 
 and between the S. Latitudes 5° 30' and 5° 45'. {iu) 
 
 ALMOHEDES, the name of an African dynasty, 
 which succeeded that of the Morabitcs, or Almoravides, 
 in Barbary, about the beginning of the 12th centurj-.
 
 520 
 
 ALM 
 
 (See Algiers.) This dynasty was founded by Abdul- 
 lah, an obscure Berber of the tribe of Muzaniada, 
 whose popularity as a preacher inspired him with the 
 presumptuous desijjn of supplanting his sovereign Al 
 Al)raham, or Brahem. Assuming for this purpose the 
 title of Mohdi or Mohedi, he declared himself the 
 leader of the Orthodox or Unitarians, whose number 
 increased so rapidly as to alarm Brahem, and compel 
 him to march against them with an army- In the first 
 engagement the rebels were victorious ; Abdallah se- 
 cured tlie capital ; and Brahem, pursued as a fugitive, 
 fled for refuge first to Fez, and afterwards to Oran ; 
 the inhabitants of which, unable to defend themselves 
 against a hostile assault, urged him to leave their town. — 
 While the unfortunate monarch was retiring from that 
 place in a dark night, with his favourite wife on horse- 
 back behind him, his flight was discovered by his ene- 
 mies ; and, in a fit of despair, he forced his horse over 
 a lofty precipice, where he and his wife were dashed 
 to pieces by their fall. 
 
 Abdolmumen, the general of Abdallah, on returning 
 to Morocco after the defeat of Brahem, found that his 
 master was dead ; and was immediately appointed to 
 succeed him as king of the Almohedes. Before his 
 death Abdallah had appointed a council of forty preach- 
 ers of his sect, some of whom were commissioned to 
 regulate all public affairs, and to travel at proper sea- 
 sons as itinerant preachers, for the purpose of dissemi- 
 nating their doctrines ; and others, to the number of 
 sixteen, were to be employed as secretaries. The king 
 and chief priest (both which offices were to be united in 
 one person) could only be chosen from the first of these 
 classes. These sectaries were distinguished by no pe- 
 culiarity in their religious tenets ; but by inveighing 
 against the tyranny of the Almoravides, and clamouring 
 loudly for liberty, acquired such influence over the minds 
 of their countrymen, as enabled them to effect a com- 
 plete revolution in the government. The followers of 
 Al Mohedi were denominated Moharomedin, or Al Mo- 
 haddin; and by the Spaniards, Almohedes; and the 
 descendants of that tribe, while their dynasty prevailed, 
 retained the appellation of Emir Al Mumenin, chiefs 
 of the true believers. 
 
 Abdallah commenced his reign by strangling the son 
 of Brahem, and extirpating the Almoravedic race. He 
 distinguished himself greatly as a warrior, reduced un- 
 der subjection the Numidians and Galatians, the king- 
 doms of Tunis and Tremecen, and the greatest part of 
 Mauritania and Tingitana; drove the Christians out of 
 Mohedia, and other cities on the African coast ; and 
 passing over to Europe, made several conquests both 
 in Spain and Portugal. Yakub, surnamed Al Mansur, 
 or the Conqueror, the second in succession after Abdal- 
 lah, became master of the whole country lying be- 
 tween Numidia inclusive, and the entire length of 
 Barbary from Tripoli to Morocco, and from the Medi- 
 terranean to the deserts of Libya, extending in length 
 about 1200 leagues, and in breadth about 480. In Spain, 
 too, his dominions were extensive, and he was acknow- 
 ledged as sovereign by more of the Arabian Moorish 
 princes in that country. His son Mohammed, surnamed 
 Al Nahur, on his accession to the throne, invaded Spain 
 with an army, consisting of more than 300,000 foot, and 
 120,000 horse ; and engaging the Christians on the 
 plains of Tholosa, was defeated with the loss of 150,000 
 foot, and ."0,000 horse ; besides 50,000 who were taken 
 prisoners. After this fatal battle, which was fought in 
 
 ALM 
 
 the '■>17th year of the Hegira, (A. D. 1220,) he relumed 
 to Africa, where the shame of his defeat, and the cold- 
 ness and aversion with which he was received by his 
 subjects, so preyed upon his mind, as in a short time 
 to occasion his death. His grandson Yeyed Arrax, whom 
 he had nominated his successor, was assassinated by a 
 prince of the tribe of Zeneti, and with him terminated 
 the dynasty of Almohedes, after it had continued for 
 about 170 years. See Almoravides. (Ic) 
 
 ALMtJND. See Jmgitdalus., Botany Index. 
 
 ALMONER, is the name of an officer in religious 
 houses, or hi the household of a sovereign, who dis- 
 penses charity to the poor. The lord high almoner of 
 England is an officer of this description. He is gene- 
 rally a bishop, and has tlie power of giving the firit 
 dish from the king's table to whatever poor person he 
 selects, (w) 
 
 ALMORAVIDES, in history, a tribe of Arabs, who 
 retired from their native country, and occupied a dis- 
 trict of Africa, under the pretence of devoting them- 
 selves to the rigid and scrupulous observance of the 
 precepts delivered to them hi the Koran. Hence they 
 took the name of Morabites, an appellation which was 
 changed by the Spaniards into that of Almoravides. 
 
 The first chief of this tribe was Abubeker Ben Omar. 
 He had the influence to assemble a great army from 
 the provinces of Numidia and Libya ; and, supported 
 by the troops of those warlike countries, he founded 
 the dynasty of the Almoravides in Barbary, A. D. 1051. 
 Abubeker, called likewise by the Spanish historians 
 Texefien, was succeeded by Yusef, or Joseph, his son. 
 This young monarch having reduced the kingdoms of 
 Fez, Tunis, and Tremecen, to a state of dependence, 
 passed over into Spain, attacked the Christians with 
 resistless impetuosity, and quickly subjected the pro- 
 vinces of Murcia, Granada, Cordova, and Leon, to the 
 Mahomedan power. Entrusting the command of these 
 provinces to his nephew, he embarked for Africa. Upon 
 his arrival in his own country, he announced, in a pub- 
 lic declaration, a gaize, or holy war ; assembled a nu- 
 merous army with a view to disseminate the religion 
 of the prophet; and, joining his nephew in Andalusia, 
 he laid waste that populous district with fire and sword. 
 In die year 1 107, he again invaded the Spanish territories, 
 forced his way into tlie kingdom of Portugal, and took 
 the city of Lisbon. But having lost the towns of Algu- 
 azin and Gibraltar, and being defeated at sea, he pro- 
 posed a truce with the Europeans ; to which, however, 
 they would not consent, unless the Moor should acknow- 
 ledge himself to be the tributary of Spain. Brave, 
 haughty, and a stranger to submission, Yusef rejected 
 with scorn the humiliating terms ; and passing into 
 Africa, he made diligent and extraordinary preparations 
 for a new invasion, affirming that he would never desist 
 till he had extirpated the Christian religion from the 
 Spanish dominions. Accordingly, he landed at Malaga, 
 and proceeded in the execution of his design. But his 
 courage was not seconded by prudence in the conduct 
 of war; and his measures were often inconsiderately 
 taken, and rashly executed. The consequence of this 
 was, that though he was victorious in the famous battle 
 of the Seven Counts, yet he lost so many of his troops 
 in the engagement, that he was unable to continue his 
 progress, and was obliged to return to Africa. He died 
 soon after, full of disappointment and regret, at his 
 capital of Morocco. 
 
 Yusef was succeeded by his son Ali, A. D. 1110.
 
 ALN 
 
 ALO 
 
 521 
 
 This prince was of a disposition less warliiie and am- 
 bilioiis than his father. Instead of atteniptintj the con-- 
 quest of any foreign country, he appears to liave studied 
 the arts of peace, and to have devoted himself to the 
 improvement of his stibjecls. The great mosque of 
 Morocco was erected in his time, and many other build- 
 ings were undertaken under liis patronage, and execu- 
 ted at his expense. But Alphoriso, king of Arragon, 
 having attack'ii the Moorish dominions in Spain, and 
 possessed niniself of many cities of importance, Ali 
 was constrained to quit his capital for Europe, in order 
 to support the decUning interests of his countrymen. 
 In this expedition he was very luifortunate, and was at 
 last defeated and slain by Alphonso, after a reign of five 
 years and six months. 
 
 Al Abraham, the successor of Ali, was so tyrannical 
 in his government, and oppressed the Moors with such 
 lieavy taxes, that they rose in arms against him; and 
 in the 25th year of his reign, the sovereignty was trans- 
 ferred fiom the tribe of the Almoravidcs to that of the 
 Almohedes. See Almohedes. Mod. Un. Hist. 
 
 ALMUCANTARS, in Astronomy, is an Arabic word, 
 employed to denote the imaginary circles parallel to 
 the horizon, which are supposed to pass through every 
 degree of the meridian, (if) 
 
 ALNWICK, the county town of Northumberland, 
 in England, 30 miles from Berwick, and 84 from Edin- 
 iiurgh, on the north; 35 from Newcastle, and 310 from 
 London, on the south, The principal streets lead in 
 nearly a straight line to a spacious square, which forms 
 a very convenient market-place ; on one side of the 
 square are the shambles, and on another a neat and com- 
 ITiodious town-house, where the quarter sessions and the 
 county courts are held, and the members of parliament 
 elected. Alnwick was formerly surrounded with a wall 
 having several gates; one of these being in a ruinous 
 state, was taken down a few years ago ; another, which 
 is on the east in the form of a tower, is felt by the inha- 
 bitants as well as strangers as a great nuisance, and owes 
 its preservation solely to the enthusiasm of the present 
 duke of Northumberland, for the memory of the gallant 
 Hotspur, by whont this unshapely pile was erected. — 
 But the chief boast of Alnwick is the castle, the seat 
 of the renowned family of Percy. Its situation is on 
 an eminence, whence there is a commanding prospect 
 of the sea', and an extensive tract of an uncommonly 
 rich and beautiful country. From the most authentic 
 records, it appears to have been anciently a place of 
 great strength ; but it remained for a long period almost 
 in ruins, till it was completely repaired by the late duke 
 of Northumberland; so that it may now justly be con- 
 sidered as one of the most magnificent models of a 
 great baronial castle in the kingdom. In the structure 
 of the building itself, which is gothic, and particularly 
 in the various gothic ornaments which have been either 
 embellished or renewed, the haj)piest union of taste and 
 judgment has been displayed. The internal decorations 
 are in a style of splendour combined with elegance, wor- 
 thy of the princely fortune of this noble family. The 
 chapel, however, generally attracts most notice. The 
 cast window, containing exquisite specimens of painted 
 glass, is said to be copied from a beautiful one in York 
 IVIinster, the ceiling from King's College, Cambridge, 
 and the mouldings and stucco work are gilt and painted 
 in the style of the great church of Milan. During the 
 residence of the family at Alnwick Castle, there are 
 certain days when the gentlemen of the countv, or 
 
 Vol. I. Part II, 
 
 strangers with a proper introduction, are expected to 
 dine with the duUe. The grounds about the castle, 
 •which exhibit every species of natural and artificial 
 beauty, are five miles in length ; and except ilunng the 
 presence of the family, they are open to the inhabitants 
 of the town. The remains of two abbeys, at a small 
 distance from each other, and a noble tower, 90 feet in 
 height, lately erected on a liill at ilie termination ot the 
 pleasure grounds, contribute to render the scenery in 
 the highest degree picturesque and romantic. 
 
 The town of Alnwick is governc d by four chamber- 
 lains, who arc annually chosen out of a common council 
 of twenty-four. A singular and ludicrous custom exists 
 here in making freemen. On St RLirk's day, the can- 
 didates for this privilege are compelled to ride round 
 the lands belonging to the town, and in this route they 
 arrive at a muddy pool, called the Freemen's Well, 
 which is purposely deepened and agitated for the occa- 
 sion. Here they dismount, and drawhig themselves 
 up in a body, plunge precipitately into the well, and 
 scramble through as fast as possible. As the water is 
 always very foul, and numbers of them are generally 
 tumbled over in the bustle, they come out in a most 
 deplorable condition, to the great amusement of the 
 crowds who assemble to witness the scene. The even- 
 ing is spent in every kind of festivity. This ridiculous 
 practice is attributed to king John, who, liaving himself 
 been mired on the spot, when engaged in the chase, 
 made it an article in the charter of the town, as a pun- 
 ishment for the inliabitants not keeping the roads in bet- 
 ter repair, that all the freemen should submit to the 
 same disaster which he had himself experienced. The 
 revenues of the town are considerable, and are employ- 
 ed in supplying it with water, and for other beneficial 
 purposes ; but particularly in supporting three free 
 schools, where almost every branch of liberal education 
 is taught, and to which the children of freemen only 
 are admitted gratis, while very moderate fees are ex- 
 acted from other persons. There are no public works, 
 and little foreign trade in this place. A woollen manu- 
 factory was once attempted by some gentlemen, but it 
 did not succeed. Besides the established church, which 
 is a perpetual curacy, there are three chapels in Aln- 
 wick, two belonging to the Methodists, and one to the 
 Roman Catholics, and three dissenting meeting houses, 
 which are tolerably well attended. 
 
 Alnwick has been particularly fatal to the kings of 
 Scotland. In the reign of William Rufus, Malcolm III. 
 was here treacherously stabbed by an English soldier, 
 who pretended to be despatched from the castle for the 
 purpose of surrendering the keys into the hands of the 
 Scottish prince. His son Edward, attempting to revenge 
 his death, was also slain, and his army defeated. In 
 1147, William, surnamed the Lion, while layuig siege 
 to Alnwick, being surprised by a party of Englishmen, 
 at a distance from his camp, was made prisoner and 
 carried in the moslr ignominious manner to Henry II. 
 from whom he was afterwards ransomed for the sum of 
 L. 100,000. In commemoration of these events, monu- 
 ments have been erected on the spot where they happen- 
 ed, and they are sufficiently conspicuous to attract the 
 attention of visitors from Scotland. Population in 1801, 
 4719. Number of housed 735. E. Long. 1° !0'. N. 
 Lat. 55° 24'. {/) 
 
 ALOE, a genus of plants of the class Hexandria, and 
 order Monogynia. See Botany. i^vS) 
 
 ALOPECIA, or Alopes. the name of a disease which 
 3 U
 
 522 
 
 ALP 
 
 ALP 
 
 makes the hair fall from the head, and oilier parts of the 
 body. It is thought to be derived from the word a>.«n-«|, 
 a fox, either because this animal is subject to the same 
 disease, or because its urine renders barren every place 
 on which it tails. Hippocrates calls the disease Alofiex. 
 It is mentioned by Callimachus in his hymn to Diana. 
 
 But thou Diana ■ 
 
 -He (Vulcan) on liis knees, 
 
 .Smiling received thee, when from his rough brcist 
 The liair thou dauntless pluckedst ; there the skin 
 Produced no future harvest, still despoiled 
 As by the wasting Mopecia's power 
 
 See Pliny's A'(?/. //w/. lib. xxviii. cap. 11. and Hippo- 
 crates Tiri^i 33-aSav, sect. 9. (e) 
 
 ALOPKCURUS, or Foxtail, :v genus of plants of 
 the class Triandria, and order Digynia. See Botany. 
 
 ALP Arslan, the second sultan of the dynasty of 
 Seljeik in Persia, was bom A. D. 1030. After many 
 splendid conquests, he died A. D. 1072. 
 
 The original name of this prince was Ismael; and he 
 obtained the surname of Alp Arslan, or the -valiant lio7i, 
 from his military prowess and success in war. After 
 commanding for ten years in Khorasan, under his uncle 
 Togrul Beg, he succeeded him in the government, A. 
 D. 1063. At the commencement of his reign, he found 
 many of his subjects in open rebellion ; but by the de- 
 cision of his measures, and the able assistance of his 
 vizier, he quickly reduced the insurgents to obedience. 
 He then declared his son Malek Shah his successor; 
 and having placed him on a throne of gold, he exacted 
 an oath of allegiance to him from the chief officers and 
 captains of the empire. The authority of Alp Arslan 
 was now confirmed. Stimulated by the hope of obtain- 
 ing immense booty in the temple of St Basil, in Cesarea, 
 he crossed the Euphrates at the head of the Turkish 
 horse, entered the city, and plundered it of all its riches. 
 The conquest of Armenia and Georgia was somewhat 
 more difficult. In the former country indeed, the very 
 name of independence was soon extinguished; but the 
 Georgians retiring to the woods and fortresses of Mount 
 Caucasus, struggled for some time with the power of 
 the Sultan. They were, however, finally reduced to 
 subjection (A. D. 1065,) and were condemned by the 
 orders of Alp Arslan to wear horse shoes of iron at 
 their ears as the mark of their degraded condition. 
 
 In 1068, Alp Arslan invaded the Roman dominions. 
 At that time Eudocia, an able princess, ruled at Constan- 
 tinople. Sensible of the danger which threatened her 
 empire, and of her own incapacity for leading the 
 troops, she married Diogenes Romanus, a soldier of 
 great bravery, and elevated him to a seat upon the 
 throne. Notwithstanding the exhausted condition of 
 his resources, the new emperor made head against the 
 Turks, and sustained the declining fortune of Rome, 
 with all the heroic valour for ^Vhich he was conspicu- 
 ous. In three severe campaigns his arms were victori- 
 ous, and the Turks were obliged to retire beyond the 
 Euphrates. But in the fourth, having advanced to the 
 relief of Armenia with 100,000 soldiers under his com- 
 mand, he was met by Alp Arslan in person, and 40,000 
 of the Turkish cavalry. The sultan offered peace, but 
 the emperor indignantly rejected his terms. " If the 
 barbarian wishes for peace," said he, "let him evacuate 
 the ground which he occupies for the encampment of the 
 Romans, and surrender his city and palace of Rei as the 
 
 pledge of his sincerity." It is said that Alp Arslaji 
 smiled at this vain demand; but reflecting that an awful 
 engagement was about to follow, he wept at the thought 
 of the slaughter which would take place, and of the 
 many brave and faithful Moslems who should perish in 
 the struggle. The legions of the emperor advanced in 
 a solid phalanx. The Turks, who were loosely drawn 
 up in the form of a crescent, yielded to the impetuosity 
 of the Romans, and suffered them to waste their strength 
 in fruitless encounters with detached bodies of their 
 horse. The whole day was spent by the emperor iit 
 these ineffectual attempts. At length, wearied with ex- 
 ertion, he was forced to retreat ; and the barbarians 
 pressing hard upon him, threw his troops into confu* 
 sion, and hastened their discomfiture. Still, however, 
 the native courage of Romanus was unbroken ; he at- 
 tempted to rally the legions, and maintained for a time. 
 the unequal contest; but being wounded by an arrow, 
 he fell in the midst of his enemies, was recognized, and 
 taken prisoner. When brought into the presence of 
 Alp Arslan, he shewed none of that cowardly submis- 
 sion which is the attribute of little minds ; and it is ex- 
 tremely improbable, from the general character of the 
 sultan, that he leaped from his throne, as Scylitzes and 
 Constantine Manasses have related, and put his foot 
 upon the neck of the captive emperor, when prostrate 
 before the divan. Nor is this at all consistent with the 
 treatment which Romanus otherwise experienced : For 
 the sultan raised him from the ground, embraced him 
 affectionately, and assured him that his life was in no 
 danger from a prince in whose eyes the bravery even of 
 an enemy could be respected, and who was not ignorant 
 of the changes which take place in the condition of 
 kings. Generous and polite, to a degree of which there 
 are few examples even among a civilized people, Alp 
 Arslan conversed freely with his illustrious captive, 
 during the period of eight days; and suffered not a word 
 or a look to escape from him which might wound the 
 sensibility, or insult the misfortunes of the emperor. 
 At length, when the terms of his ransom were about to 
 be settled, Romanus was asked by the conqueror, what 
 treatment he expected to receive. To this question the 
 fallen emperor, with unsubdued magnanimity, replied in 
 the following words : " If you arc cruel, you will take my 
 life ; if you listen to pride, you will drag me at your cha- 
 riot wheels ; if you consult your interest, you will ac- 
 cept of a ransom, and restore me to my country :" " And 
 what," continued the sultan, "would have been your 
 own behaviour, had fortune smiled upon your arms?" 
 "Had I vanquished," said Romanus, "I would have 
 inflicted on thy body many a stripe." This firm and 
 inigratcful reply did not provoke the resentment of the 
 Turkish conqueror. He smiled at the words of his cap- 
 tive, observed that the Christian religion enjoined us to 
 love our enemies, and to forgive those who have injured 
 us; and generously avowed his resolution not to imitate 
 an example which his judgment could not approve. 
 
 It was agreed that the emperor should pay to the 
 Asiatic ruler 1,000,000 pieces of gold as his ransom, 
 and 30,000 pieces as an annual tribute ; that an inter- 
 marriage should take place between the royal children ; 
 and that all the Moslems in the power of the Greeks 
 should be instantly set free. To these himniliating con- 
 ditions Romanus submitted with reluctance. Nor was 
 his reception among his own subjects at all calculated to 
 diminish the sorrow which he experienced on account 
 of his misfortunes. Many of the provinces had rebelled
 
 ALl* 
 
 ALP 
 
 5-23 
 
 (luring his captivity ; and the ofRccrs of the palace, and 
 numbers of the soldiers, had disclaimed their allegiance 
 to one who was a prisoner at a foreign court. He was 
 unable to collect the sum which had been agreed upon 
 for his ransom, and could remit no more than 200,000 
 pieces; and even these were procured witli the utmost 
 difficulty. The sultan, however, prompted by ambition, 
 or perhaps influenced by friendship, was inclined to 
 espouse the cause of the unfortunate emperor, and to 
 support him with his troops ; but the defeat, imprison- 
 ment, and death of Romanus, constrained him to relin- 
 quish his purpose. 
 
 After the death of Romanus, Alp Arslan saw himself 
 the undisputed master of the fairest part of Asia ; and 
 1200 princes surrounding his throne. His anny con- 
 sisted of 200,000 men. Naturally ambitious, and confi- 
 dent of the valour of his troops, he now meditated a 
 greater enterprise than any which he had yet undertaken, 
 and resolved to attempt the conquest of Turkeston, the 
 original seat of his ancestors. Having finished his pre- 
 parations, he marched from Bagdad with a powerful 
 army; and arriving at the Axus, he threw abridge over 
 that river. Finding it necessary to reduce some cas- 
 tles in the vicinity of the Axus, Joseph Cathual, a Ca- 
 rizmian, defended one of these with such vigour and 
 perseverance, that a stop was put to the career of the 
 Sultan. The place, however, was reduced, and, fatally 
 for Alp Arslan, its commander was brought into his 
 presence. Instead of praising his valour, the Sultan re- 
 proached him for his presumption and obstinacy ; till 
 Cathual, roused to indignation, fors^ot the respect which 
 was due to the lord of Asia, and replied with arrogance 
 and contempt. This was not to be borne by a monarch 
 flushed with successful warfare, and elated with exten- 
 sive dominion. He was ordered to be tied by the hands 
 and feet to four stakes driven into the earth, and left to 
 perish in that miserable situation. But when the sen- 
 tence was pronounced in his hearing, Cathual drew a 
 poignard which he had concealed in his boots, and, 
 rushing towards the sultan, attempted to stab him upon 
 
 the throne. The guards interposed, and would instantlj 
 have despatched the captive, had not Alp Arslan, trust- 
 ing to his superior skill in archery, checked their zeal, 
 and, ordering them to retire, aimed an arrow at his 
 heart. Either the aim was untrue, or the foot of the 
 monarch slipt as he drew his bow: for the arrow glan- 
 ced to a side, and Cathual, improving the opportunity, 
 plunged his dagger into the breast of the sultan. Alp 
 Arslan lived only a few hours ; but previous to his death, 
 he bc<iueathcd the following admonition to the pride ol 
 kings : " In my youth," said he, " I was advised by a 
 wise man to humble myself before God, never to con- 
 fide in my own strength, or to despise the most con- 
 temptible enemy. These lessons I have neglected, and 
 my neglect has been deservedly punished. Yesterday, 
 as from an eminence, I beheld the numbers, the disci- 
 pline, and the spirit of my armies ; the earth seemed to 
 tremble under my feet ; and I said in my heart, surely 
 thou art the king of the world ; the greatest and mos! 
 invincible of warriors ; what power on earth can oppose 
 thee ? what man dares to attack thee ? To-day, trusting 
 to my personal strength and dexterity, I foolishly check- 
 ed the alacrity of my guards, and have fallen by the hand 
 of an assassin." Alp Arslan died in the 44th year of his 
 age, and the 10th of his reign. His remains were de- 
 posited at Marce, in the burying place of the Seljeikan 
 dynasty ; and the following epitaph was inscribed upon 
 his tomb: "O ye who have seen the glory of Alp Ars- 
 lan exalted to the heavens, repair to Marce, and you 
 will behold it fallen in the dust." — The annihilation of 
 the inscription, says Gibbon, and of the tomb itself, mon; 
 forcibly proclaims the instability of human greatness. 
 
 This prince was distinguished by his tall and erect 
 figure, and his commanding aspect and voice. He was 
 valiant, liberal, just, and sincere. He was succeeded in 
 the government by Malek Shah, his son. Gibbon's Drc. 
 and Fall 'if the Roman Emfiire, vol. v. p. 659. Elmacin. 
 Hist. Saracen, pp. 343, 344. Jl de Guigne.s, tom. iii. p. 
 212. Abulfiharag. Dynast, p. 227. d'Herbelot, p. 102. et 
 seq. Constantine Manasse/t, p. 134:. (/;) 
 
 ALPHABET. 
 
 Alphabet, the usual or customary series of the several 
 letters of a language. The word is derived from axipa 
 and /3!)Ta, the first and second letters of the Greek alpha- 
 bet. Letters being, properly speaking, written marks 
 for denotmg the elemental sounds of which spoken lan- 
 guage is composed, the number of letters in the alphabet 
 of any people ought to correspond exactly to the number 
 of elemental sounds which have a place in their speech. 
 But in no language is this accurate coincidence found. 
 Alphabets are sometimes defective, sometimes redund- 
 ant ; defective, from the want of distinct characters to 
 mark all the varieties of elemental sounds : redundant, 
 as well from the admission of more than one character 
 to express the same sound, as from the introduction of 
 characters, to denote not only the elemental, but also 
 some of the compound sounds occurring in the language. 
 Hence though the number of elemental sounds in use 
 among different people, admits of no very great diver- 
 
 sity ; yet in the alphabets of different nations, the num- 
 ber, of letters varies considerably. The English alpha- 
 bet contains 26 letters; the French contains 23; the 
 Italian 20 ; the Spanish 27 ; the Dutch 26 ; the Sclavonic 
 27 ; the present Russian 41 ; the Latin 22 ; the Greek 
 24 ; the Hebrew, Samaritan, Syriac, and Chaldean, each 
 22 ; the Arabic 28 ; the Persic and Egyptian, or Coptic, 
 each 32 ; the Turkish 33 ; the Georgian 35 ; the Ar- 
 menian 38 ; the Sanscrit 50 ; the Ethiopic, or Abys- 
 sinian 202 ; and the Indian or Brachmanic 240. The 
 Chuiese have written characters ; but these cannot be 
 called alphabetic, being signs not of sounds but of ideas, 
 and independent of any particular language ; they arc 
 generally allowed to exceed 80,000. The Japanese, al- 
 though they read the Chinese characters in their own 
 language, have at the same time a species of alphabet 
 peculiar to themselves, consisting of about 50 charac- 
 ters.* 
 
 • In many of these alphabets, the characters, though termed letters, are in fact frequently syllabic ; frequently too, an elemental soun<l, 
 radically the same, is marked by different characters, accorclinp to tlie tone, time, or raoile of pronouncing it. This is particularly the 
 casein the Sanscrit and other Oriental alphabets, in which an inspection pf tlie powers of the letters (see Plate XD.) will at once show 
 
 3 U 2
 
 524 
 
 ALPHABET. 
 
 Ftw subjects have i> i\'cii lisc to more discussion than 
 the origin ot alphabetic characters. If they arc oi liunian 
 invention, Ihcy must be considerccl as one of the most 
 admirable cfVorts of the ingenuity of man. So wonder- 
 ful is the facility which they art'ord for recording human 
 thought; so ingenious, and at the same time so simple 
 is the analysis which they furnish for the sounds of ar- 
 ticulate speech, and for all the possible variety of words ; 
 that we might expect the author of this happy invention 
 to have been immortalized by the grateful homage of 
 succeeding ages, and his name delivered down to pos- 
 terity with the ample honours it so justly merited. But 
 the author and the sera of this admirable discovery are 
 both lost in the darkness of remote antiquity. Even the 
 nation to which the invention is due, cannot now be as- 
 certained. The Egyptians, the Assyrians, the Phoe- 
 nicians, the Persians, the Indians, have all laid claim to 
 the honour of this discovery ; and each have named its 
 inventor among the remote, and probably fabulous per- 
 sonages that figure in the earlier ages of their history. 
 In consequence of this uncertainty respecting the author 
 of alphabetic writ ng, and the high value and extreme 
 difficulty of tlie invention itself, many have been inclined 
 to attribute this art to an immediate revelation from the 
 Deity ; contending tliat it was commimicated with other 
 invaluable gifts from above, in remote ages, to the de- 
 scendants of Abraham, and probably to the patriarch 
 Moses, who was the author of the most ancient com- 
 positions in alphabetical writing that we at present pos- 
 sess. To enable our readers to estimate the validity of 
 this opinion, it will be proper first to give a theoretical 
 sketch of the natural progress of writing, from its 
 rudest beginnings, as far as it can be traced, towards the 
 invention of alphabetic characters ; illustrating what is 
 obscure in the ancient history of the art, by the better 
 known facts of modern times ; next to examine the 
 pretensions of different nations to the honour of the in- 
 vention, in order to discover whether history will en- 
 able us to ascertain with any precision, the people among 
 whom it originated ; and lastly, from the facts thus ex- 
 hibited, to examine the ground upon which the divine 
 origin of alphabetic writing has been maintained. 
 
 1. Man enjoys the noble prerogative of being able to 
 communicate his ideas by articulate sounds. But these 
 sounds cannot reach beyond the time and place where 
 they are uttered. If we wish to perpetuate our ideas, 
 some method must be discovered of giving permanency, 
 either to these sounds, or to the notions which they de- 
 note, by means of certain durable signs or marks, so con- 
 trived, as to recal to the memory the thoughts with 
 wliich they are meant to be associated. The most natu- 
 ral expedient that presented itself, was to make a pic- 
 ture, or representation of the very object spoken of. 
 Thus, to signify, that one man had killed another. 
 
 nothin^; could be more obvious than to draw the figure 
 of one man stretched upon the ground, and of another 
 standing by him, with some instrument of death in his 
 hand. To denote that strangers had arrived in a country 
 by sea, it was natural to draw a man sitting in a ship ; 
 and so in other cases. 
 
 There is good reason to believe, that such was the 
 earliest kind of writing, if it can properly be so called 
 among the Egyptians, Phoenicians, and other ancient na- 
 tions. See Kasai nitr Its Hkroglyfilu-s des Jigyfitimii.) 
 We may also conclude, that the Grecian writing was 
 originally of the same kind, since we find the same word 
 '/fct(pu, employed to signify both luriting and painlhig. 
 When the people of Mexico were first visited by the 
 Spaniards, the art of writing had advanced no farther 
 among them. The inhabitants of the sea-coast, in order 
 to give notice of the arrival of these strangers to their 
 emperor, Montezuma, sent him a large cloth, in which 
 they had painted a representation of every thing remark- 
 able that they had observed. {,'Jcosta, I. 7.) A speci- 
 men of these Mexican paintings is, we believe, still to 
 be seen in the Bodleian library at Oxford.* 
 
 This method of writing is evidently laborious and 
 cumbersome. To abridge the toil attending it, men 
 would naturally be induced to substitute abbreviations, 
 or characteristic parts instead of the whole object.^ 
 themselves. That this second stage in the art of repre- 
 senting ideas, was also practised among the Egyptians, 
 we learn from the authority of Horus Apollo. Accord- 
 ing to that author, the Egyptians anciently represented 
 3, fuller of clothis, by painting a man's two feet in water ; 
 and they signified yfrc, by a painting of smoke ascending 
 in the air. (1. 2. c. 16.) On the same principle, a sca- 
 ling-ladder denoted a siege ; and two hands, the one 
 holding a buckler, the other a bow, signified a battle, 
 (1. 2. c. 28.) 
 
 As soon as it became the practice to write much, it 
 would be discovered that even this expedient was alto- 
 gether incompetent to express a great number of the 
 thoughts which it was necessary to communicate. There 
 are many things familiarly spoken of, such as the pas- 
 sions and feelings of living creatures, the judgments 
 and opinions of the human mhid, which it is altogether 
 impossible to express by such representations, as they 
 are not of a corporeal but an intellectual nature. Hence 
 the origin of writing by si/mbols, or of denoting things 
 that are intellectual by sensible objects to which they 
 are supposed to have a certain analogy or resemblance. 
 Thus, ingratitude was denoted by a viper; Providence, 
 by the head of a hawk, remarkable for its penetrating 
 eye ; a man shunned by society by an eel, which is sup- 
 posed never to be found in the company of other fish ; 
 feet standing upon water, an impossibility. This kind 
 of sy^mbotk writing was greatly practised among the 
 
 that the same vowel often assumes a different character as it is pronoimced long or short, and the same consonant, as it is sounded with 
 or without an aspiration. Hence a p^reat source of the difference in point of number in the characters of different alphabets. 
 
 • The Mexican puintingfs in the Bodleian library, werecojiied and given to the world by I'urchas in 66 pl.ites. His work is dirided 
 into three parts. The first contains the history of the Mexican .empire, inider its ten monarchs ; the second is a tribute roll, represent- 
 ing what eiich conquered town paid into the royal treasury ; and the tliird is a code of their institutions, ci\il, political, and military. The 
 orig-inals were among Mr Selden's MSS. No. '3134. " In llie same library," s.iys Mr Astle, " No. '2858, is a book of Mexican hiero- 
 jflyphics, painted upcm thick skins, wliich are covered with a chalky composition, and folded in eleven folds. No. 3135 is a book of 
 Mexican hieroglyphics, painted upon similar skins, and folded in folds No. 3207, is a roll containing Mexican hieroglyphics, painted on 
 bark. These paintings," he subjoins, " are highly worthy the attention of the curious" 
 
 Besides the engravings of Purchas, several other specimens of .Mexican picture-writing have been given to the public. One by the 
 archbishop of Toledo, in 32 plates, containing a tribute roll and other matters. One by M. Thevenot, from an original in the French 
 king's library, containing a kind of history of .Mexico with an account of its government and laws And a third, published by Cemelli at 
 Naples, representing tlie travels of ihe .Mexicans from their departure out of the northern regions of .\merica, to their estabUshment on 
 the borders of the lake, in the middle of which tliey erected their capital. See .I&ot. de I'.lcad. dcs Inscrlp. t. 6.
 
 ALPHABF/r. 
 
 525 
 
 Egyptians; and from the uses to. which it was applied 
 by them, it obtained tlie name of Nieruglijjiliic, or sacred 
 sculpture. See Hieroglvphics. 
 
 As this manner of communicating thoughts came to 
 be more frequently used, convenience, and even neces- 
 sity, would lead to the abbreviating moie and more these 
 symbolic delineations; a dot instead of a circle might 
 stand for the sun; a zig-zag line for a saw, might sig- 
 nify a carpenter, and so of other symbols. By these 
 repeated abbreviations, the original resemblances would 
 gradually become obscure, and at last entirely disappear; 
 the character would then become a mere arbitrary mark, 
 conveying only the remote idea, without suggesting at 
 all the object from which the symbol was originally 
 taken. The characters of the Chinese at the present 
 day appear to be entirely of this kind ; and as the de- 
 tails which we have lately received concerning this re- 
 markable pectiliarity throw a great deal of light upon 
 tlie natural progress of the art of writing, they are well 
 worth an attentive consideration. It is disputed whether 
 or not the Chinese characters are founded upon a re- 
 semblance between the sign and the thing signified. 
 Sir George Staimton asserts, that they are, and Mr Bar- 
 row denies it; but all agree, that the Chinese charac- 
 ters denote thhigs, and not words; and therefore by 
 those who understand them, they may be read or re- 
 solved into any other language as well as the Chinese. 
 This has been thought to be a considerable advantage ; 
 but the benefit of it is questionable, and at any rate is 
 more than counterbalanced by the immense multiplica- 
 tion of characters to which this manner of writing gives 
 rise. In the case of the Chinese, there are incompara- 
 bly more characters than words in the language, for 
 every idea or object of thought must have its distinct 
 character; but in all languages many different ideas are 
 denoted by a single word; and in Chinese, this takes 
 place much more than in any other with which we are 
 acquainted. According to sir George Staunton, the 
 number of words in the Chinese language does not ex- 
 ceed 1500, while the number of characters extends to 
 80,000, making, at an average, near 50 characters to 
 every word ; a circumstance which must occasion a 
 wonderful ambiguity in the spoken language, and fre- 
 quently, as Mr Barrow assures us, obliges them, in con- 
 versation, to write or draw the character, in order to 
 remove the ambiguity.* 
 
 In the structure of the Chinese characters, there are 
 what are properly termed elementary signs. These are 
 the characters of simplest form which are intended to 
 denote the principal, or more general objects of nature. 
 They consist of a few lines or strokes, and 5 or 6 of 
 them are formed by a single line. They may be con- 
 sidered as the genera, or roots, under each of which are 
 ranked a variety of species. Thus the heart is a genus, 
 represented by a curve line, somewhat typical of its ob- 
 ject ; and the species referable to it, include all the sen- 
 timents, passions, and affections that agitate the human 
 breast. Under the genus hand, are arranged most 
 trades and manual exercises. Under the genus ivord, 
 every sort of speech, study, writing, and debate. The 
 five elements of which the Chinese suppose all bodies 
 
 to consist, form so many genera, each of which compre- 
 hends a great number of species under it. The species 
 are discriminated by more compound characters, which 
 sometimes consist of no fewer than TO strokes. But in 
 each compound character or species, the peculiar mark 
 of the genus is discernible, which serves as an explana- 
 tory key ; and also as a mark of reference to the Cliinese 
 Dictionary. There the genera are arranged at the be- 
 ginning in an order, which, being invariable, soon be- 
 comes familiar. The species under each genus, follow 
 each other according to the number of additional strokes 
 of which each consists, and thus are easily found. 
 
 In China, therefore, the knowledge of characters is 
 the knowledge of things ; and the Chinese Dictionary, 
 were it properly constructed, would he in fact a syste- 
 matic Encyclopaedia of all the learning and science of 
 the country. We need not wonder, therefore, that the 
 examinations of those who aspire to office, should be 
 confined to a knowledge of the character, and an ability 
 to write it with accuracy and elegance. This cannot bo 
 attained without niucli labour and long study. " The 
 youth of China," says Mr Barrow, " generally begin to 
 study the language when they are about six years of 
 age. The first step of their education, is to learn the 
 names of the characters, without any knowledge of 
 their signification; the next is to be able to trace or de- 
 lineate them ; and the last, which commences about fif- 
 teen years of age, is to analyse the characters by the 
 help of the Dictionary, when they first begin to know 
 the use and meaning of the written character. Having 
 now made himself master of various standard works, 
 the student is ready, at the age of twenty, to take his 
 first degree; but in order to be qualified for any high 
 employment, he must study at least ten years longer." 
 Such is the immense labour of learning to read and 
 write a character which is not expressive of words or 
 sounds, but of things, or real objects ; and hence may be 
 perceived at once the prodigious value of that expe- 
 dient which enables us to communicate our ideas with 
 accuracy to others, by means of a few arbitrary signs, 
 variously combined together, to suggest the words that 
 are expressive of our thoughts. 
 
 In the progress we have hitherto traced of hierogly- 
 phical, symbolical, and representative characters, we 
 still find no approach to alphabetic writing. All the 
 species of characters already mentioned, denote imme- 
 diately objects or ideas, without referring to the me- 
 dium of speech ; and all of them, however modified, are 
 in fact only refinements upon picture writing; the natu- 
 ral advances of that obvious mode of delineating what 
 we wish to make the object of thought. But between 
 this species of writing, and the analysis and notation of 
 the sounds, by which in spoken language these ideas 
 are conveyed, the gulf is interposed, which it has 
 been doubted if human ingenuity would ever have been 
 able to pass How in fact this transition was effected, 
 has never yet been satisfactorily explained. Some par- 
 ticulars, however, in regard to Chinese writing, have 
 been lately communicated by sir George Staunton and 
 Mr Barrow, whicii seem to indicate the commencement 
 of a progress from the one to the other; and these, as 
 
 • In the year 180-1, it was intimated at P.^ris, that the Cliinese characters cut in wood, which had Iain above 60 years in the national 
 library, had been lately transfcn-ed to the priiiting'-office of the republic, for the use of Dr Ha.s;p:ar. Before their removal they were 
 counted by a commissary of tlie library, and a commissary of the printing-office ; and the number of them was found to amount to 68,417. 
 They were contained in 2j6 boxes; and M. de la Rue, one of the commissioners, undcrtoc.k to class them, according to the 214 elcmer.-- 
 Uvy signs, and arraiig-e them in a cubinct appropriated to that purpose.
 
 526 
 
 ALPHABET. 
 
 illustrating the liislory of wi'iting, merit a particular 
 examination ; tiiouijli in reality, tlicy carry us but a little 
 way towards ascertaining the actual invention of alpha- 
 betic notation. 
 
 The Chinese characters, it has been already mention- 
 ed, denote not words but ideas. It is evident, that, in 
 this mode of writing, many of the characters must stand 
 for objects of familiar and constant recurrence; when 
 this is the case, the object and the character will soon 
 be so completely associated in the mind, that the one 
 will, upon every occasion, instantly suggest the other. 
 It is no less evident, that as, in the course of human 
 affairs, the same objects nmst likewise become con- 
 stantly the subjects of speech, the sounds by which they 
 are denoted will be no less completely associated with 
 the object, or the idea. In this manner the character 
 and the sound being both associated with the same ob- 
 ject, and constantly and familiarly recurring along with 
 it, will themselves soon become the subjects of a no less 
 close association ; so that the written character, when it 
 calls to mind the objects denoted, will, at the same tune, 
 and almost with equal readiness, call to mind the word 
 or the sound by which it is expressed in speech. Here 
 therefore is a connection formed between writing and 
 speech, in such a manner that a character may represent 
 not only an object, but a sound. If, then, at any time it 
 is wished to signify the sound alone, without bringing 
 to view the object, this may be done by exhibiting the 
 character, giving intimation, at the same time, that it is 
 the sound alone which it is intended to express ; and if 
 two or more of these sounds constitute the component 
 parts of the name of some other object less familiarly 
 known, that whole name can be expressed at once by 
 the union of the characters suggesting these component 
 sounds. Thus by degrees many of the written charac- 
 ters of objects may come to be used, to represent words, 
 or the parts of words, though originally appropriated to 
 objects or ideas alone. 
 
 In this manner it actually appears that the Chinese 
 have proceeded both in the formation of their dictiona- 
 ries, for explaining difficult terms, and in the application 
 of their characters, to express the words in foreign lan- 
 guages, which the necessity of trade has compelled 
 them to make use of. The following account is given 
 by Mr Barrow, of the construction of a Chinese diction- 
 ary, and the manner in which a character, unknown to 
 the student, is rendered intelligible. " All the 212 
 roots or keys," says he, " are drawn fair and distinct on 
 the head of the page, beginning with the most simple, 
 or that which contains the fewest number of lines or 
 points, and proceeding to the most complicated ; and on 
 the margins of the page are marked the numeral chai-ac- 
 ters, one, two, three, Sec. which signify that the root or 
 key at the top will be found to be combined on that 
 page with one, two, three, 8cc. lines or points. Suppose 
 lor example, a learner should meet with an unknown 
 character, in \vhieh he perceives, that the simple sign, 
 expressing water, is the key or root, and that it contains, 
 besides this root, six additional points or lines ; he im- 
 mediately turns over his dictionai-y to the place where 
 the character water stands on the top of the page, and 
 proceeding with his eye directed to the margin, until 
 the numeral character s/j- occurs, he will soon perceive 
 the one in question; for all the characters in the lan- 
 guage belonging to the root ivater, and composed of six 
 other lines or points, will follow successively in this place. 
 The ?!ame or sound of the character is placed imme^ 
 
 diately after it, expressed in sucli other characters as 
 are supposed to be most familiar. Suppose the name of 
 the character under consideration to be /linff. If no 
 single charactci' be thought sufficiently simple to ex- 
 press the sound /li'iff, immediately after it will be placed 
 two well-known cliaracters fie and in,^ ; but as every 
 character in the language has a monosyllabic sound, it 
 will readily be concluded that /le and intf, when com- 
 picssed into one syllable, must be pronounced /ling. 
 After these the meaning or explanation follows, in the 
 clearest and most easy characters that can be employed." 
 A similar, though less minute account, is given of the 
 Chinese dictionary, by sir George Staunton, who farther 
 informs us, that the inhabitants of Canton, prompted by 
 the necessities of trade, have constructed a vocabular)' 
 of English words expressed in Chinese characters, 
 which are merely indicative of sound. These charac- 
 ters are in very familiar use, and are therefore readily 
 interpreted ; and in the vocabulary, a particular mark is 
 annexed to each, which denotes, that the character is 
 not intended to denote the idea, but merely the foreign 
 sound attached to it. Thus the necessity of explaining 
 an unknown character, or of conveying the sound of an 
 unknown word, has suggested the expedient of marking 
 sounds by characters in familiar use, whose pronuncia- 
 tion will therefore very readily occur. If the sound is 
 in this manner designated by the aid of two or more 
 such characters, a syllabic writing is introduced, calcu- 
 lated, from its superior simplicity, to supersede the use 
 of symbolic characters, indicative of things. 
 
 Not only the Chinese but the Japanese also, who 
 make use of the Chinese characters, appear to have 
 been in this manner led to adopt, to a certain degree, 
 a mode of writing by syllabic characters ; and they 
 seem to have carried it farther than even the Chinese 
 themselves ; as we are assured, they have a fixed syl- 
 labic alphabet, consisting of about fifty characters, the 
 figures of them evidently borrowed from the represen- 
 tative chai-acters, but the characters themselves denoting 
 sounds, not ideas. 
 
 It is the opinion of M. Goguet, that those nations of 
 Asia, known to the antients by the names of Syrians and 
 Assyrians, used the syllabic way of writing. This 
 opinion he grounds upon an ancient tradition preserved 
 by Diodorus, according to which, the invention of writ- 
 ing is ascribed to the Syrians, but the Phoenicians are 
 said to have improved and completed it. {Diod. lib. 5.) 
 This, according to M. Goguet, denotes, that the Syrians 
 invented syllabic writing, and the Phoenicians alphabetic 
 characters. (Origin des loix. '<Jfc. lib. ii. c. 6.) M. Freret, 
 in a paper on this subject, in the Memoirs of the Aca- 
 demie des Inscri/iticns, maintains, that syllabic writ- 
 ing was employed by the Abyssinians or Ethiopians, 
 whose alphabet, he says, contained 200 characters ; by 
 the Indian Brahmins, whose characters do not differ 
 much from the Ethiopian, and amount to 240 ; by the 
 people of Malabar, of Bengal, of Boutan, and of the 
 two Thibets, whose writing is in use in all western 
 and northern Tartary, from the frontiers of China to 
 the north of the Caspian Sea ; by the inhabitants of 
 Ceylon, of Siam, of Java, and probably other eastern na- 
 tions, which, says he, employ a kind of writing, wherein 
 the syllables compounded of consonants and vowels arc 
 expressed by a single character. These opinions, how- 
 ever, it must be owned, rest upon very questionable 
 grounds ; M. Freret, in particular, has evidently been led 
 into error, by mistaking for distinct syllabic characters
 
 ALPHABET. 
 
 527 
 
 the abbreviated junctions of vowel and consonant fre- 
 quently occurring in oriental writing, abbreviations en- 
 tirely similar to the well-known contractions in Greek, 
 which are only different modes of writing certain letters 
 when occurrmg together. But be this as it may, there 
 can be no doubt tliat at least among the Chinese and 
 Japanese, if not among any other people, the syllabic 
 mode of writing has been to a certain degree super- 
 induced upon the symbolic or representative characters. 
 
 Thus far we may consider ourselves as pretty well 
 supported by facts in our account of the progress of 
 written characters ; but we arc utterly unable to trace 
 with any certainty the succeeding steps of the invention. 
 It has been supposed, that when syllabic characters had 
 come into common use, men would be prompted to 
 simplify them, and reduco their number, by resolving 
 them into the fewest possible elementary sounds, and 
 that thus, at lengtii, an alphabet of vowels and consonants, 
 or of mere letters, would be formed. This, however, 
 was by no means an easy or an obvious undertaking ; 
 the vowels, indeed, are only syllabic sounds of the sim- 
 plest form, but the consonants being rather elements of 
 sound than actual sounds themselves, and incapable of 
 being distinctly articulated without the aid of a vowel, 
 either prefixed or affixed, the resolution of these could 
 not be effected without a very refined speculation con- 
 cerning the nature of articulate speech, and a careful 
 analysis of the various organs employed in the utterance 
 of language. By whom, or in what manner, this was 
 accomplished, is still the great desideratum in tracing 
 theoretically the history of the progress of alphabetic 
 writing ; and nothing appears to have been yet dis- 
 covered capable of elucidating this stage of the in- 
 quiry. It is certain the resolution has been effected, 
 but when and how it was done remains yet to be dis- 
 covered. 
 
 II. Though the progress of the mind in the inven- 
 tion of alphabetic characters cannot be completely traced, 
 yet to follow out as far as possible the actual history 
 of the invention, it may be in some measure satisfac- 
 tory, shortly to review the pretensions of the different 
 nations, who have laid claim to the honour of the inven- 
 tion. 
 
 This invention has been claimed by a number of 
 different people. The Phoenicians, the Egyptians, the 
 Chaldeans, and the Indians, have all made pretensions 
 to it. 
 
 The Greeks ascribed the invention of their alphabet 
 to Cadmus the Phoenician, who planted a colony in 
 Tlicbes. By this, however, we areonlyto undcr.stand,that 
 Cadnms was the first who made alphabetic characters 
 known in Greece. That he was not regarded as the 
 actual inventor is clear ; for Plato, the most learned of 
 the Greeks, expressly says, that Tliaut the Egyfitian 
 was the first that divided letters into vowels and con- 
 sonants, mutes and liquids. This Thaut, or Taaut, is 
 also mentioned by Sanchonialho, the Phoenician his- 
 torian, as the inventor of letters, and is claimed by him 
 as a Phamician ; he is said to have lived in the 12th or 
 loth generation after the creation, and to have been the 
 son of Misor, and grandson of Hamyn. To reconcile 
 these different accounts of the country of Thaut, Mr 
 Jackson, in his Chronological Antiquities, maintains, 
 that letters having been invented by Taaut, or Thotli, 
 the Phoenician, son of Misraim, who lived about 500 
 years after the deluge, were introduced into Egypt by 
 a second Taaut, who lived about 400 vcars after the 
 
 former. Taaut was by the Greeks called ^lermes, and 
 by the Latins Mercury ; and this second Hermes, who 
 obtained the name of Trismegistus, was, according to 
 Diodorus, the inventor of granunar, music, letters, and 
 writing, as well as tlie author of numerous books, and 
 many important inventions. 
 
 The Phoenicians and Egyptians arc not the only an- 
 cient nations that have preferred a claim to the inven- 
 tion of the alphabet ; the Chaldeans, the Syrians, the 
 Persians, and the Arabians, have all made the same pre- 
 tension, and have all had their respective advocates. But 
 the grounds of their pretensions appear to be by far too 
 vague to establish their claim. 
 
 According to some late writers, the pretensions of 
 the Indians to this honour rest upon better grounds. 
 The Sanscrit, or more refined language of that country, 
 is supposed to be one of the most ancient in the world, 
 and the parent of almost every dialect frome the Persian 
 Gulf to the Chinese Sea. The Hindoos assert, that 
 they were in possession of letters before any other na- 
 tion in the world ; and that many of their ancient books 
 describe the Egyptians, and other nations of antiquity, 
 as their disciples, and as seeking in Hindostan that in- 
 struction which their own country did not afford. But 
 extravagant pretensions to antiquity are common to all 
 nations, and many of the assigned dates of the ancient 
 Hindoo writings have been proved to be highly exag- 
 gerated, or altogether fabulous. 
 
 Among these different pretensions, it is not very easy 
 to come to a certahi determination. Mr Astle, after 
 stating the claims of the several nations, thus estimates 
 their validity : " The vanity of each nation induces it 
 to pretend to the most early civilization ; but such is 
 die uncertainty of ancient history, that it is difficult to 
 decide to whom the honour is due. It, however, should 
 seem, from what hath been advanced, that the contest 
 may be confined to the Egyptians, the Phoenicians, and 
 the Chaldeans. The Greek writers, and most of those 
 who have copied them, decide in favour of Egypt, be- 
 cause their information is derived from the Egyptians 
 themselves. The positive claim of the Phoenicians 
 dotii not depend upon the sole testimony of Sanchonia- 
 tho, as the credit of his history is so well supported by 
 Philo of Biblus his translator. Porphyry, Pliny, Curtius, 
 Lucan, and other ancient authors, who might have 
 seen his works entire, and whose relations deserve at 
 least as much credit as those of the Egyptian and Greek 
 writers. 
 
 "The Phoenician and Egyptian languages are very 
 similar, but the latter is said to be more large and 
 full, which is an indication of its being of a later date. 
 The opinion of Mr Wise, however, that the ancient 
 Egyptians had not the knowledge of letters, seems to 
 be erroneous ; as they had commercial intercoursr 
 with their neighbours the Phoenicians, they probably 
 had the knowledge of letters, if their policy, like that 
 of the Chinese at this day, did not prohibit the use of 
 them. 
 
 " The Chaldeans, who cultivated astronomy in the 
 most remote ages, used symbols, or arbitrary marks, in 
 their calculations ; and we have shewn, that these were 
 the parents of letters. This circumstance greatly 
 favours their claim to the invention ; because Chaldea, 
 and the countries adjacent, are allowed by all authors, 
 both sacred and profane, to have been peopled be- 
 fore Egypt ; and it is certain, that many nations, said 
 to be descended from Sheni and Japhct, had their
 
 528 
 
 ALPHABET. 
 
 letters from the Phcenicians, who were descended from 
 llani. 
 
 " It is observable, that the Chaldeans, the Syrians, 
 Phreaicia'.is, and ICgyptians, all bordered upon each 
 other; aiid as the I'lioenicians were tlie greatest, as 
 well as the most ancient commercial nation, it is very 
 )>robable that they comnmnicatcd letters to the Egyp- 
 tians, the ports of Tyre and Sidon being not far distant 
 from each otiicr. 
 
 " Mr Jackson is evidently mistaken when he says, that 
 letters were invented 2619 years before the birth of 
 Christ. The deluge, recorded by Moses, was 23-19 
 years before that event ; and if letters were not invented 
 till 550 years after, as he asserts, we must date their 
 discovery only 1799 years before the Christian aera, 
 which is 410 years after the reign of Menes, the first 
 king of Egvpt, who, according to Syncellus and others, 
 is said to have been the same person with the Misor of 
 Sanconiatho, the Mizraim ot the Scriptures, and the 
 Osiris of the Egyptians ; but wliether this be true or not, 
 l^gypt is frequently called in Scripture, the Land of 
 jMizraim. 
 
 " This Mizraim, the second son of Amyn, or ilam, 
 seated himself near the entrance of Egypt, at Zoan, in 
 the year before Christ 2188, and 160 years after the 
 Hood. He ffccr wards built Thebes, and some say 
 Memphis. Before the time that he went into Egypt, 
 his son Taaut had invented letters in Phoenicia ; and if 
 this invention took place ten years before the migration 
 of his father into Egypt, as Mr Jackson supposes, we 
 mav trace letters as far back as the year 2178 before 
 Christ, or 150 years after the deluge recorded by Moses ; 
 and beyond this period, the written annals of mankind, 
 which have been hitherto transmitted to us, will not 
 enable us to trace the knowledge of them ; though this 
 want of materials is no proof that letters were not known 
 until a century and an half after the deluge. As for 
 the pretensions of the Indian nations, we must be bet- 
 ter acquainted with their records before we can admit 
 of their claim to the first use of letters ; especially as 
 none of their manuscripts of any great antiquity have 
 yet appeared in t^urope. That the Arabians were not 
 the inventors of letters, has appeared by their own con- 
 fession. Plalo somewhere mentions Hyperborean let- 
 ters very different from the Greek ; these might have 
 been the characters used by the Tartars, or ancient 
 Scythians." 
 
 Mr Astle having thus balanced the evidence in fa- 
 vour of the various claimants to the invention of the 
 alphabet, makes also observations on the subject of an- 
 tediluvian letters. " It may be expected," says he " that 
 something should be said concerning those books men- 
 tioned by some authors to have been written before the 
 deluge. Amongst others, Dr Parsons, in his Remains 
 ofJa/ihet, p. 346 — 359, supposes letters to have been 
 known to Adam ; and the Sabians produce a book which 
 they pretend was written by Adam. But concerning 
 these, we have no guide to direct us any more than con- 
 cerning the supposed books of Enoch ; some of which, 
 Origentell us, were found in Arabia Felix, in the domin- 
 ions of the queen of Saba. Tertullian affirms, that he saw 
 and read several pages of them ; and in his treatise De 
 Habifu Aliilk-ruin, he places those books among the can- 
 onical : but St Jerome and St Austin look upon them to 
 be apocryphal. William Postellus pretended to com- 
 pile his book De Originibus, from the book of Enoch ; 
 and Thomas Bangius published at Copenhagen, in 1657, 
 
 a vo!-k which contains many singular relations concern- 
 ing the maiiner of writing among the antediluvians, 
 which contains several pleasant stories concernuig the 
 books of Enoch. With regai-d to this patriarch, indeed, 
 St Jude intorms us that he lir ijiheaieA ; but he does not 
 say that he '^vroie. The writings, therefore, attributed 
 to the antediluvians, must appear quite uncertain, 
 though it might be improper to assert, that letters were 
 unknown belore the deluge recorded by Moses." Up- 
 on tiie whole, Mr Astle gives his opinion in these 
 words : " It appears to us, that the Phoenicians have 
 the best claim to the honour of the inveiition of let- 
 ters." 
 
 In forming this conclusion, however, Mr Astle ap- 
 pears to have had in view only the evidence arising from, 
 the vague and dubious traditions of the Greeks; and it 
 is rather surprising, that, while examining the preten- 
 sions of the Egyptians, Phccnicians, Arabians, and Sy- 
 rians, he seems to have altogether overlooked the better 
 authenticated claims of the Hebrews to the invention of 
 alphabetic writing. It is mcontestable, that the ancient 
 Israelites were in possession of an alphabet, and that al- 
 phabet too, little less perfect than those in use at the pre- 
 sent day, at a period when no autheritic, or even very cre- 
 dible, accounts attest, that among any other nation or peo- 
 ple any alpliubet existed. This certainly affords a strong 
 ground of presumption, that if the Hebrews were not 
 absolutely the inventors of letters, at least they had the 
 knowledge of them prior to any of those nations whose 
 claim to the invention has been thought the most plau- 
 sibly supported. Indeed there seems great reason to 
 believe, that when the Greeks spoke of the Phankians 
 as very early acquainted with letters, they confounded 
 them with the Hebrews; the proximity of situation, and 
 similarity of language, preventing them from knowing 
 the distinction. When therefore the Phoenician alpha- 
 bet is mentioned as the most ancient, tliere is little 
 doubt that either the Hebrew alphabet itself was really 
 meant, or a transcript of it more or less perfect adopt- 
 ed by their neighbours the Phoenicians, from whom the 
 invention v.as communicated to the ancient Greeks. In 
 concluding, therefore, that the evidence in favour of the 
 claim of _the Phoenician to the honour of the invention 
 rather preponderates, we may consider ourselves as 
 warranted in doing so in opposition to the claims of the 
 Egyptians, Arabians, Chaldeans, and Syrians ; but if 
 the Plioenicians and the Hebrew alphabet were not the 
 same, the pretensions of the Phoenicians must give way 
 to the better established claim of the Hebrews. 
 
 Such is the general result of the information we pos- 
 sess concerning the formation of the alphabet, and the 
 era and the authors of that invention. The evidence is 
 certainly insufficient to enable us to form a decisive opi- 
 nion. So uncertain and doubtful, indeed, is the histoiy 
 of this invention, that it has frequently been maintained, 
 and that too with very plausible arguments, that alpha- 
 betic writing is not a human invention, but of divine 
 revelation. 
 
 HI. It will be proper, therefore, now to state the 
 grounds upon which this opinion of the divine origin of 
 alphabetic writing has been maintained. 
 
 The arguments which are brought in support of the 
 divine revelation of the alphabet, are chiefly these : 
 1st, The high antiquity of the use of letters ; the He- 
 brew characters having existed in a perfect state when 
 Moses composed the Pentateuch, the most ancient wri- 
 ting now known to be extant. 2d, The similarity be-
 
 ALPHABET. 
 
 329 
 
 twecn the various alphabcls of ilifTcrent nations, which, 
 for the most part, arc tlic same, in the order, power, and 
 even tbrni ol their letters, with the Hebrew. 3(1, The com- 
 plete want ot alphabetic characters among those nations, 
 which have been cut oft' irom all communication with 
 the ancient civilized world ; or that part ol' the human 
 race which had no opportunity of borrowini^- the system 
 of written characters, revealed to the Hebrews. 4th, 
 The difficulty of the invention, tonsidcrin;^ tiie rude 
 state of society at which it should seem that it nmst 
 have been accomplished. 
 
 1st, It has been urged, that the alphabet certainly 
 existed in a very remote period of antiquity, in as great 
 a state of periection as at present ; for the Hebrew al- 
 phabet, as employed by Moses, is hardly less perfect 
 than any other system of written characters, ancient or 
 modern. But it is emircly opposite to the course of 
 nature, that an invention of great difficulty should at 
 once be brought to a perfect state, it being invariably 
 found, that aits in their origin arc very rude and defec- 
 tive, and are not brought to a state of maturity without 
 the labour and care ol successive ages. The arts of 
 sculpture, painting, architecture, metallurgy, and a 
 thousand others, were not brought to perfection till af- 
 ter the lapse of many ages, and when men had attained 
 to refinement of manners, and SLi..-nlific skill. But if 
 alphabetic characters were the invention of men, it must 
 be supposed, that the art of writing might be perfected, 
 while thev were yet in a state of ignorance and barba- 
 rity ; a supposition altogether repugnant to the natural 
 course of tilings. 
 
 It is further alleged, that the very period at which 
 alphabetical characters were communicated from above, 
 is expressly stated in the books of Moses. This period 
 was the delivery of the laws of the two tables of stone 
 upon Mount Sinai, which, according to the testimony 
 of Moses, were written by the finger of God. " And he 
 gave unto Moses, upon Mount Sinai, two tables of tes- 
 timony, tables of stone, written with the finger of God." 
 Exod. xxiv. 12. And again, " And Moses went down 
 from the mount, and the two tables of the testimony 
 were in his hand ; the tables were written on both their 
 sides. And the tables were the work of God ; and the 
 writing was the writing of God, graven upon the tables." 
 Exod. xxxii. 15, 16. To this, however, it is objected, 
 that writing is mentioned by Moses as a thing well 
 known before the delivery of the tables of the law on 
 Mount Sinai; it occurs in the 17th chapter of Exodus, 
 in which Moses is commanded to write in a book ; and 
 this was before the arrival of the Israelites at Mount 
 Sinai. A command is given to engrave the names of 
 the twelve tribes of Israel upon stones, like the engra- 
 vings of a signet ; a command which implies, that wri- 
 ting had been known and practised among them for a 
 considerable time. The people were directed to '.vrile 
 (he lavj uji'ju thir door fiosts ; another proof that the 
 art of writing must have been well known. Writing is 
 alluded to by Moses in various other passages ; as 
 JVumb. c. xxxiii. v. 1. c. xvii. v. 18. c. xxxi. v. 9, 19, 
 i!6; and nowhere is it spoken of as a new invention, or 
 a divine revelation. But had either been the case, it 
 might have been supposed, that it would have been 
 commemorated by the Jewish legislator, who has, on 
 other occasions, recorded the invention of music, me- 
 tallurgy, and other less important arts ; and who would 
 hardly have omitted to state so important a circum- 
 stance as the immediate revelation of letters, by the 
 
 Vol. I. Pabt II. 
 
 Divinity himself. It cannot, therefore, be asserted with 
 consistency, that there is any evidence in scripiure for 
 the divine revelation of alpiiabetic characters; and it is 
 even rendered probable by the testimony of Moses him- 
 self, tliat they had been in familiar use before his time. 
 It appears more probable, that he carried the art with 
 him from Egypt, and probably may have acquired it 
 while an exile in Arabia. 
 
 2d, It has been said, that if ali>habetir,al writint' were 
 a mere human invention, ditl'erent nations would have 
 fallen ujion the same expedient, without borrowing it 
 from each other. But on the contrary, the alphabets of 
 different nations, instead of being as diversified as the 
 nations themselves, may, with little trouble, be referred 
 to one common original. Tims, the alphabets of the 
 modern nations of Europe, have all evidently been de- 
 rived from the Roman. The Roman alphabet is plainly 
 derived from the Greelj. The Greeks acknowledged 
 that they owed their alphabet to the Fhoenicians, who, 
 as well as their colonists the Carthaginians, spoke a 
 dialect of the Hebrew, scarce varying from the original. 
 The Coptic, or Egyptian, resembles the Greek in most 
 of its characters, and is therefore to be referred to the 
 same source. The Chaldce, Syriac, and latter Sama- 
 ritan, are dialects of the Hebrew, without any conside- 
 rable deviation, or many additional words. The Ethi- 
 opic differs more from the Ikbrev,', but less than the 
 Arabic ; yet these languages have all issued from.tlic 
 same stock, as the similarity of their formation, and the 
 numberless words common to them all sutKciently 
 evince ; the Persic is very nearly allied to the Arabic. 
 It may fairly be inferred then, that all these languages, 
 and tlieir alphabetical characters, have been connected 
 immediately or remotely with those of the Hebrews, 
 who have handed down the earliest specimens of wri- 
 ting to posterity. 
 
 This view of the suljject is greatly confirmed by the 
 sameness of the artificial deiiomiiuitions, and of the 
 order of arrangement of the h tters in the Latin, Greek, 
 and Oriental languages. This order is entirely artifi- 
 cial ; for though it might be deemed according to na- 
 ture, to begin the alphabet with the letter A., the sim- 
 plest of the vowel sounds, no good reason can be assigned 
 for proceeding next to B, one of the consonants called 
 mutes; yet such is the order in most of the alphabets 
 above mentioned. In all of them likewise a great simi- 
 larity is found in the succession of the rest of their 
 letters. In many of them likewise there is an evident 
 likeness in the forms of the corresponding characters. 
 These alphabets, therefore, have manifestly been bor- 
 rowed the one from the other. 
 
 If in many cases we are unable to trace a resemblance 
 in the characters of difTerent alphabets, still this is no 
 argument that the alphabets have not been clcrired from 
 a common source, if we find the order and power of 
 their letters nearly alike. A variety cf causes may be 
 assigned for a variation in the form of written charac- 
 ters, casually or intentionally introduced ; such as the 
 fancy of transcribeis, the vanity of introducing innova- 
 tions, the veneration for ancient symbols, and the insen- 
 sible effects of the lapse of time. Before the art of 
 printing was invented, and when every work was copied 
 by manual labour, we may e-aaily conceive how many 
 alterations in the form of alphabetic characters might 
 be introduced from these or otlier sources; and from 
 what has taken place in the form of the letters of our 
 own language during tlse lapse of ages, it will be ad-
 
 .)jU 
 
 ALPHABET. 
 
 niitled, thai llu sc causes arc bullii;iciil. to account for a 
 total departure from the original resemblance that 
 might have prevailed between difl'crent alphabets. It 
 is almost certain, that the alphabets of the old Samari- 
 tan and the Hebrew were originally the same ; as the 
 two languages have so great a resemblance, that the 
 Samaritan Pentateuch does not vary from the Hebrew, 
 by a single letter in twenty words ; yet the characters 
 in which these two languages liave descended to us, 
 arc totally diflerent. We are informed by Herodotus, 
 that the Greeks first used the Pheenician characters 
 imported by Cadmus ; but in process of time, as the 
 pronunciation altered, the form of the letters was also 
 changed. The Phoenician letters, however, continued 
 to be used, with little variation, by the lonians, who 
 dwelt in the country adjacent to the Phoenician terri- 
 tory. 
 
 It has, however, been maintained by Mr Astle, that 
 it will be impossible to reduce all the known alphabets 
 to a common source, even by the most liberal allowance 
 for casual variation. There are, he asserts, a variety 
 of alphabets used in different parts of Asia, which can- 
 not be derived from the Hebrew or Phoenician, as they 
 vary not only in the figure and number, but in the name, 
 order, and power of their letters. The foundation of 
 many of these Eastern alphabets appears to be that of 
 the Sanscrit, which has fifty characters, and therefore, 
 according to him, must have many marks of sounds, 
 which are not rcciuircd in the notation of the languages 
 of Europe. There are also, according to the same au- 
 thority, several alphabets used in different parts of 
 Asia, entirely different not only from the Phoenician or 
 Hebrew, and all its derivatives, but also from the San- 
 scrit, and all those that may probably have proceeded 
 from it. Such, says he, are the alphabet of Pegu, the 
 Batta characters used in the island of Sumatra, and the 
 Barman or Boman characters used in some parts of 
 Pegu. He therefore concludes, that it is impossible to 
 assimilate the forms, names, order, or power of these 
 alphabets, either with the Phoenician, or Sanscrit ; so 
 that we must be forced to admit, that alphabetic writing 
 is not the invention of one, but of several different na- 
 tions. 
 
 In these assertions, however, we may remark, Mr 
 Astle is much too rash, and seems to be rather ill foun- 
 ded. The coincidence of all the alphabets in use to 
 the westward of Persia, with the Hebrew or Phoeni- 
 cian, admits of no dispute ; it is only to those existing 
 in the country to the eastward, that his opinion of pal- 
 pable discrepancy in their nature, form, and structure, 
 will apply. Now there is very little doubt, notwith- 
 standing Mr Astle's averment, that all these Indian 
 alphabets may be traced as derivatives, either imme- 
 diate or remote, from the Sanscrit ; a more accurate 
 acquaintance with Indian literature has established this 
 fact, even with respect to some of those formerly re- 
 garded as irreconcileably dissimilar ; and farther know- 
 ledge will in all probability evince the same of the 
 
 rest though accidental ciicumstanccs may have given 
 rise to smaller diversities.* If then it shall be tound 
 upon examination, that the Sanscrit alphabet itself has 
 proceeded from the same source with tlic alphabets in 
 use to the westward, the argument against the common 
 origin of Indian and European letters, taken from the 
 discrepancies apparently existing between them, must 
 fall to the ground. Our acquaintance with the Sanscrit 
 is yet too imperfect to enable us to follow out this in- 
 vestigation fully ; but as the coincidence of the Sanscrit 
 language with Persian, Arabic, and Greek, not in de- 
 tached words only, but even in the i-adical parts of the 
 language, has been noticed in strong terms by those 
 best versed in Indian learning,! this coincidence can 
 hardly admit of a doubt ; and surely if the languagcH be 
 radically similar, the sources of the alfihabets cannot 
 well be supposed radically different ; if the former bear 
 marks of a common origin, it may well be presumed 
 that the latter has a common origin also. In confirma- 
 tion of this opinion, the actual similarity of more than 
 one of the Sanscrit characters as they exist at the pre- 
 sent day, with the corresponding characters in the old 
 Hebrew or Samaritan alphabet, may be adduced. This 
 similarity in some of the characters, has been inci- 
 dentally remarked by sir William Jones; and farther 
 coincidences might be traced, could we carefully fol- 
 low out the forms of the letters in both, through the 
 different variations, which in the lapse of ages, and pro- 
 gress through different countries, they must have un- 
 dergone. | 
 
 The diversity in the order of the letters in these dif- 
 ferent alphabets, is a circumstance of little or no weight 
 in deciding the present question. It is well known, that 
 in some alphabets, confessedly derived from each other, 
 (the Hebrew and Persic for example,) great variations 
 in this respect have taken place, either from convenience 
 or caprice. Tlie Hebrew indeed has retained its origi- 
 nal order ; but in the Persic, considerable changes have 
 been introduced, in consequence of which, the nume- 
 rical powers of several of the letters in the latter do not 
 at all correspond to their numerical places in the pre- 
 sent alphabet, but coincide exactly with the numerical 
 places of the corresponding letters in the former. In 
 like manner, changes at different times, and from differ- 
 ent causes, may have occasioned the different order now 
 observed in the Indian and western alphabets, though 
 they had originally emanated from one source. 
 
 Upon the most attentive examination, therefore, we 
 seem to be warranted in concluding, that no sufficient 
 grounds have yet been adduced for rejecting the opinion 
 of the common origin of all the alphabets at present ex- 
 isting. 
 
 5d, It has been argued, that alphabetic writing is only 
 to be found among nations that had a channel of inter- 
 course with the ancient Phoenicians, or Chaldaeans, or 
 Hebrews, or whatever eastern tribe it was among whom 
 the characters of the alphabet were first in use. In the 
 western continent of America, no traces of alphabetic 
 
 • An exception should perhaps be made of wliat are called the Pali, or Sitcred Characters, which seem to be quite of a different 
 kiml from the characters in common use. Tlitse, however, it is probable, were invented by the priests for the express purposes of 
 concealment .and mystery; the structure of these, therefore, no more invalidates the general argument, than tlie existence of shortr 
 iiand writing-, or of secret ciphers among us, would disprove the assertion, that our alphabet was derived from tlie Roman. 
 
 f In particular Mr. Halhed. 
 
 ^ It will be sufficient here just to mention the similarity of the Sanscrit Ma, with the Samaritan and Hebrew Mem; the Sanscrit Sn, 
 with tUe Sam.'iritan and Hebrew Saintch ; the S.anscvit Ba, with the Samaritan Betli; and the Sanscrit Ka, with the Samaritan Caph. 
 (Ci.mpare Plates X. and XI.) Farther resemblances might be shewn, but it would have required several plates to exhibit the progres- 
 sive alterations in the form of a ch:iracter passing from one *ge or people to another.
 
 ALPHABET. 
 
 531 
 
 writing liave been disc<JVered, although various ingenious 
 attempts at communicating thought by visible symbols 
 have been found among the Mexicans, Peruvians, and 
 some other American nations. Nay, in the eastern dis- 
 tricts of Asia, inhabited by the Cliinese, and scarcely 
 known to the ancient world, alphabetic writing has never 
 been introduced. Among this people, celebrated for 
 their ingenuity, their discoveries in the arts, and their 
 early civilization, writing has made no greater progress 
 than the expression of thought by representative sym- 
 bols, which render it an art of the greatest intricacy 
 and difficulty. After the lapse of many ages, there is 
 no appearance in China of any approach towards the 
 simplicity of alphabetic writing ; but on the contrary, 
 the characters of that country ai'e every day becoming 
 more complicated and voluminous. To take away the 
 force of this argument, however, it has been observed, 
 that the Chinese are of all nations the most averse to in- 
 novation j not only the art of writing, but almost every 
 art of life, have been stationary among them, since they 
 have become an object of observation to Europeans ; and 
 that there is no wonder the art of writing in alphabetic 
 characters was not invented by the American nations, 
 nor has been found among remote uncivilized tribes ; as 
 this is an art which never will be resorted to till men are 
 somewhat advanced in intellectual improvement, and 
 strongly impelled to give permanency to their thoughts 
 and speculations. 
 
 4th, This naturally introduces our final argument for 
 the divine revelation of alphabetic characters; the rude- 
 ness of the period at which the alphabet originated, and 
 the great difficulty of the invention. Can it be supposed, 
 it is said, that an invention so refined and ingenious as 
 that of the alphabet, could have ever occurred to a bar- 
 barous and illiterate people, employed chiefly in provid- 
 ing for the necessities of life, and ignorant of every kind 
 of refinement, and every department of science ? But to 
 this it is answered, that long before the age of Moses, 
 many of the eastern nations had made very considerable 
 advances, not only in the arts, but in many branches of 
 scientific knowledge. The Scripture testifies, that the 
 arts of metallurgy, music, and some others, were well 
 known to the antediluvians. In Egypt, the arts of paint- 
 ing, sculpture, and architecture, were far advanced in 
 the ages immediately succeeding the flood; and in that 
 country, in Chaldsea, and in India, the sciences of cal- 
 culation, and the phenomena of the heavenly bodies, 
 ■were studied with great care from the most remote pe- 
 riod of historic records. That age, therefore, can hardly 
 be termed barbarous, uncivilized, or even illiterate, to 
 which the invention of alphabetic characters is ascribed. 
 At a period when astronomical observations were made 
 with success, and the future appearances of the hea- 
 vens predicted with considerable accuracy, it is not un- 
 reasonable tosuppose, that the communication of thought 
 by characters, representing the elements of articulate 
 speech, might have occurred by some happy coincidence 
 of circumstances to one ormore individuals, distinguish- 
 ed for ingenuity and acuteness. After all, however, it 
 must be acknowledged, that taking into view the situa- 
 tion and circumstances of the Hebrew nation, at the time 
 when the use of alphabetic characters most probably 
 originated, and certainly was universally known among 
 them, it will be found very difficult indeed, upon the 
 
 supposition of this being a mere human invention, to 
 account for the fact of so astonishing an advance being 
 made by them in an art so refined and difficult as that of 
 representing words by means of alphabetic characters. 
 
 Thus have we endeavoured to stale, with impartiality, 
 the arguments, both for and against the divine revela- 
 tion of alphabetic writing, and the evidence upon which 
 each side has been supported. It can scarcely be said 
 that the reasoning is conclusive on cither part; th'; 
 question must still, and will probably for ever, remain 
 undetermined. 
 
 Having thus discussed the three proposed branches 
 of the history of alphabetic writing, we shall next pro- 
 ceed to make some remarks on the more important 
 known alphabets, ancient and modern, their difl'erent re- 
 lations, and their dependence on one another. 
 
 The most ancient of all the alphabets with which wo 
 are acquainted, is certainly the old Hebrew or Samari- 
 tan. It consists of 22 letters, all of which are by many 
 reckoned consonants, though others, upon pretty solid 
 grounds, regard five of them as vowels, and only 17 as 
 consonants. Though this alphabet is tolerably complete 
 in regard to the language for which it is used, yet it is 
 by no means perfect ; it is both defective and redundant : 
 it is certainly defective in regard to the vowel charac- 
 ters ; for even admitting five of the constituent le'tters 
 to have been vowels, yet there are many words where 
 none of these occur; and where therefore the want of 
 vowels must be supplied either by the conjecture of the 
 reader, or by the complex and operose machinery of 
 vowel points; it is redundant, both by allotting more 
 than one- letter to the same power and sound, as D and 
 ty to denote S, 3 and p to express K, and by reckoning 
 double letters among the elements of speech, as y for 
 Ts. In this alphabet the names of the letters are all 
 significant ; Alijih., signifying an ox ; Beth, a house ; 
 Gimel, a camel, and so on. In what manner, and on 
 what principles, the order of the letters adopted in the 
 Hebrew alphabet was established, it is difficult to con- 
 jecture ; the order is certainly inartificial and confused ; 
 perhaps it arose from some accidental ciixumstancc of 
 the letters happening to follow one another in that order 
 in the earliest writings to which they were applied. 
 
 The form of the old Hebrew characters appears to 
 have undergone several variations. It is generally be- 
 lieved, that the Chaldaic, or square Hebrew, was adopt- 
 ed by the Jews during the IBabylonish captivity, and 
 ever afterwards retained among them, while the old form 
 was preserved among the Samaritans. 
 
 From the ancient Hebrew alphabet, one of the ear- 
 liest derivations was the Phcenician* The two languages 
 were kindred dialects, and the forms of the letters have 
 a considerable resemblance. By comparing the 1st and 
 2d columns of Plate X. and the 6th column of Plate 
 XI., the similarity will be manifest. The Phoenician 
 alphabet indeed, as we have it nov/, is not so full as the 
 Hebrew, containing only seventeen letters, but proba- 
 \>lyit has reached us in an imperfect state. There is a 
 Phcenician alphabet found in an inscription preserved at 
 Oxford, (see Plate X. at the foot) differing a little froni 
 the other; the difference, however, is slight, and only 
 serves to shew to what accidental variations the same 
 alphabet may be occasionally subjected. 
 
 Closely connected with the Phcenician alphabet, we 
 
 * Mr Astle has revei-sed this order, makings the Phocnici.in the parent of the Hebrew ; but he has offered no arguments in support 
 of this notion, and the superior antiquity of the Hebrew appears the more probable supposhion. 
 
 3X2
 
 o32 
 
 ALrHABET. 
 
 riiul tlic Ba.ifulan,* Palmy rxa:i,^ and Punic,\ all of them 
 only iliffircnt iiiock-s ol wrilini; tlie Pliu;niciaii, wliich 
 require, tlierc lore, no piu'lieular observaUoiis. 
 
 From the Hebrew alphabet, it is evident, originated 
 the HijriaCf the Arabic, and the Persian ; they ditier in- 
 deed, in some degree, in the number and position of the 
 Jetters, but their general resemblance sufficiently proves 
 their origin. 
 
 All of these alphabets were wiitten from right to left, 
 a mode of writing still preserved in all of them to the 
 present day. 
 
 From the same source, the Hebrew, or its immediate 
 derivative, the Phoenician alphabet, arose the old Pclas- 
 s(!c, destined itseli to become the fertile parent of most 
 of the European alphabets. As the Pelasgi were un- 
 doubtedly ot Plioenieiiin origin, they brought with them 
 into Greece a knowledge ot the Phoenician alphabetic 
 characters. At first we are told their letters were only 
 sixteen in number, brouglit into Greece by Cadmus; to 
 these Palamedes added, about the time of the Trojan 
 war, the three aspirates, © * X, and the double letter 
 E ; and Slmonides afterwards increased the alphabet to 
 24, by adding the long vowels H and il, and the double 
 letters + and Z.§ At first the ancient Greek, like its 
 parent alphabet, was written from right to left; after- 
 wards the lines were made to run alternately from right 
 to left, and from left to right ; a mode of writing, deno- 
 minated fia^^oi'pitS'ay, as resembling the progress of an ox 
 in ploughing a field. At last, about 450 or 460 years, 
 as it is thought, before our a;ra, the Ionic mode of form- 
 ing the letters from left to right was introduced ; and, 
 from the experience of its superior conveniencCv; began 
 gradually to prevail. 
 
 It was not, however, universally used for some ages, 
 even in Greece. The Athenians did not adopt it till 
 about 550 years before Christ, nor the Saninites for 
 eighty years after. At length it became universal over 
 Europe, and has since been retained. The Ionic Greek 
 alphabetll differed a little, but not essentially from the 
 Pelasgic ; in Plate X. columns 5th and 6th, both of them 
 are put down. 
 
 From the Pelasgic al])habet proceeded the Etruscan,'^ 
 said to have been carried into Italy in the time of Deuca- 
 lion, and from the Etruscan the Oscan^** the characters 
 of which seem to hold a middle rank between the Pelas- 
 gic and Ionic. 
 
 The .-Jrcadian, Co/itic,^i F.thiopic, ancient Gaulish,\\ 
 Eunic,^% Ilhirian, Biis^iun, Got/iici'\\ Armenian and Scla- 
 voi]ic,are all derived from the Ionic alphabet. 
 
 From the Ionic also came the Roman or Latin alpha- 
 bet,t1I said to have been first adopted in the reign of 
 their fifth king, Tarquinius Priscus. The Roman char- 
 acters, it is certain, constituted the source whence al- 
 most all our alphabets in modern Europe have taken 
 their rise. The form of its letters, as still found in the 
 
 aneie.tt inscriptiotis, hardly differs from the form of our 
 capitals at the present day. 
 
 The Greek alphabet may then be regarded as the 
 parent, immediate or remote, of the alphabets ,n use in 
 modern Europe. It is itself one of the most complete 
 with which we are acquainted, copious, accurate, and 
 exhibiting an elegant analogical structure. Still, how- 
 ever, it cannot be said to be perfect ; its double letters 
 are altogether superfiulties, as their places might pc 
 more properly supplied by the combined single chaiac- 
 ters whose room they occupy, and wiiose power they 
 exactly denote. Deficiencies are also to bu iouiid in it: 
 there is no single character to denote the sou. id indica- 
 ted by the double y in ay"/£^«?, although that is a simple 
 and peculiar sound. The Roman alphabet is still more 
 defective than the Greek ; it has no distinct characters 
 for the long vowels, and wants tiie two aspirates X and 
 ©. The modern alphabets derived from it have depart- 
 ed yet farther from the simplicity and regular structure 
 by which an alphabet ought to be cliaracterized. These 
 defects, so far as regards our own alphabet, will be af- 
 terwards more particularly considered. 
 
 In regard to the form and structure of the letters ill 
 the principal European alphabets, the following particu- 
 lars, taken from Astle's Origin of H riling; are curious, 
 and worthy oi notice. 
 
 " The ancient Gaulish letters are derived from the 
 Greek, and their writing approaches more nearly to the 
 Gothic than that oi the Romans: this appears by the 
 monumental inscription of Gordian, messenger of the 
 Gauls, who suffered martyrdom in the third century, 
 with all his family. These ancient Gaulish characters 
 were generally used by that people before the conquest 
 ol Gaul by Cssar; but after that time the Roman let- 
 ters were gradually introduced. The ancient Spaniards 
 used letters nearly Greek before their intercourse with 
 the Romans. The ancient Gothic alphabet was very 
 similar to the Greek, and is attributed to Ulphilas, 
 bishop of the Goths, who lived in Mxsia about 570 years 
 after Christ. Fie translated the Bible into the Gothic 
 tongue. This circumstance might have occasioned the 
 tradition of his having invented these letters; but it is 
 probable that these characters were in use long before 
 this time. The Runic alphabet is derived from the an- 
 cient Gothic. 
 
 The Coptic letters arc derived immediately from the 
 Greek. Some have confounded them with the ancient 
 Egyptian ; but there is a very material difference be- 
 tween them. The Ethiopic alphabet is derived from 
 the Coptic. 
 
 The alphabet proceeding from that of the Scythians 
 established in Europe, is t'le same w-ith what St Cyril 
 calls the •Sirvian. The Russian, lUyrian, or Sclavo- 
 nic, and the Bulgarian, are all derived from the Greek. 
 The Armenian letters differ very much from the Greek, 
 
 • The Rastuli were a Phoenician colony, very early settled in Spain ; their alphabet is given Plate X. col. Sd. 
 f See Plate X at the foot. ^ 
 
 t See Plate XI. cnl. 1st 
 
 § According to other accounts, Palamedes added only the three aspirates 6, », ;t Epicharmus, the Sicilian, afterwards invented 
 the double letters ^, J, 4 ; ""d Shnouidcs, the two long- vowels », a: Some will have it that the Cadniaean letters were only thirteen 
 in number. Tlie two aspirates, 6, », however, and the long vowel », are of greater aTitiquity Uian the Trojan war, if the dale of that 
 most ancient inscription found at Amyclea, in Laconia, be correctly fixed at between one and two hundred years before that period, for 
 all these letters are to be found in it. See Astle's Origin and Pi ogress of Writing, p. 66 and 67. 
 
 II Plate X Col 6th. H Plate X C"l 4th. •• Plate XI Col 3d. 
 
 ft Plate X Col 10th. « Plate XI. Col 5th. % Plate X. Col. 8th. 
 
 Ii|| Plate X. Col. 9th Iffl Plate X. Col. 7th.
 
 ALPHABET. 
 
 53t 
 
 from which ihey arc dcrl\ed, as well as from the 
 La.un. 
 
 With regard to the alphabets derived from the Latin, 
 the Louibardic relates to the manuscripls of Italy; the 
 Visii^oihic to those of Spain ; the Saxon to thobC ol Eng- 
 laiHi ; the Galilean and Franco-Gallic or Merovingian to 
 the manuscripts of France ; the German to tliose ot tliat 
 country ; and the Caroline, Capelian, and modern Gotiiic, 
 to ail lUe counirics ol Europe who read Latin. The 
 lirsl six ol tnese alpliabets are before the age of Charle- 
 magne, the last three posterior to it. They aie more 
 distinguished by their names than the forms of their 
 characters; and the former indicate all of them to have 
 been of Roman extraction. Each nation, in adopting 
 the letters of the Romans, added a taste and manner pe- 
 culiar to itself, which obviously distinguished it from 
 the writings of all other people; whence arose the dif- 
 ferences between the writings ot the Lombards, Spa- 
 niards, French, Saxons, Germans, and Goths, and all the 
 strange turns observable in the writings of the Francic 
 Gauls or Merovingians ; and those of the Carlovingians, 
 their successors, may be traced from the same source. 
 From these distinctions the name of na'iona! tvrUiug was 
 derived. 
 
 The writing of Italy was uniform till the irruption of 
 the Goths, who disfigured it by their barbarous taste. 
 In 569, the Lombards, having possessed themselves of 
 all Italy, excepting Rome and Ravenna, introduced that 
 form of writing which goes under their name ; and as 
 the popes used tli#Lombardic manner in their bulls, the 
 name of Roman was sometimes given to it in the 1 Ith 
 century ; and though the dominion of the Lombards 
 continued no longer than 206 years, the name of their 
 writing continued in Italy from the 7th to the 1 3th cen- 
 tury, and then ceased ; when learning, having declined 
 in that as well as in other countries, the manner of wri- 
 ting degenerated into the modern Gothic. 
 
 The Visigoths introduced their form of writing into 
 Spain, after having overrun that country ; but it was abo- 
 lished in a provincial synod, held at Leon in 1091, when 
 the Latin characters were established for all public in- 
 struments, though the Visigothic were used in private 
 w litings for three centuries afterwards 
 
 The Gauls, on being subjected by the Romans, adopt- 
 ed their manner of writing ; but by subsecpient additions 
 of their own, their characters were changed into what is 
 called the Ga/lican, or Roman Gallic mode. This was 
 changed by the Francs into the Franco-Gallic, or Mtro- 
 ■vingian mode of writing, being practised under the 
 kings of the Merovingian race. It took place towards 
 the close oi the sixth century, and continued till the be- 
 ginning of the ninth. 
 
 TheGerman mode of writing was improved by Charle- 
 magne ; and this improvement occasioned another dis- 
 tinction in writing, by introducing the alphabet named 
 Caroline, which declined in the 12th century, and was 
 succeeded in the loth by the modern Gothic. In France 
 it had degenerated by the middle of the 10th century, 
 but was restored in 987 by Hugh Capet, whence it ob- 
 tained the name of Caprtian. It was used in England, 
 as well as G'-rniany and France. 
 
 The modern Gothic, which spread itself all over 
 Europe in the 12lh and loth centuries, is improperly 
 named, as not deriving its origin from the writing an- 
 
 ciently used by tlie Goths. It is, however, the worst 
 and most barbarous way of writing, and originated 
 among the schooimen in the decline of the arts; being 
 indeed nothing else than Laiin writing degenerated. 
 It began in the 12th century, and was in general use, 
 e.^pecially among monks and schoolmen, in all parts 
 ol Europe, till the restoration of arts in the loth century, 
 and continued longer in Germany and the northern na- 
 tions. Our statute books are still printt-d in Gothic let- 
 ters. The most barbarous writing of the seventh, eighth, 
 and ninth centuries, was preferable to the modern 
 Gothic. It is diversified in such a manner as can 
 scarce admit of description; and the abbreviations used 
 by the writers were so numerous, thai it became very 
 dilTicult to read it; which was one of the great causes 
 of the ignorance of those times. Along with this, how- 
 ever, the Lombardie, Gothic, Roman, Caroline, and Ca- 
 petian modes of writing, were occasionally used by iftdi- 
 viduals." 
 
 Having taken a view of the old Hebrew and Phoeni- 
 cian alphabets, with all their numerous derivatives and 
 ramifications, it still remains to advert a little to the 
 Oriental, or Indian alphabets. With these, however, 
 our acquaintance is as yet very imperfect ; our obser- 
 vations must therefore necessarily be general and short. 
 
 In the extensive country to the eastward of the Indies, 
 it is certain there are in use a variety ol alphabets, ap- 
 parently different from any that we have yet taken notice 
 of. of these, it is generally allowed, that the Sanscrit, 
 or Sungscrit, is the parent. The term Sutigscrit signi- 
 fies something brought to perfection, in contradistinc- 
 tion to Prakrit, which denotes something vulgar or un- 
 polished ; hence the refined and religious languages and 
 characters of India are known by the former denomina-; 
 tion, the vulgar mode of writing and expression by the; 
 latter. There are reckoned seven different sorts of In- 
 dian hand-writing, all comprised under the general 
 term oi jVagarcc, which may be interpreted writing; of 
 these the most elegant Sanscrit writing is denominated 
 Dacb-yiagarce, or Dcva-nagaree, properly the writings 
 of the immortals; for the Bramins hold the letters to 
 be of divine original : probably they are a refinement 
 from the more simple jXagaree of iormer ages. The 
 following observations on this alphabet, by Mr Carey, 
 in the preface to his Sanscrit Grammar, lately publish- 
 ed at Calcutta, are calculated to convey some general, 
 ideas of its structure. 
 
 "The Dcva-nageree alphabet, in which the Sanscrit 
 language is usually written, deserves attention, on ac- 
 count of its singular nature and peculiar arrangement. 
 All alphabetical systems may probably be reduced to 
 two ; in one of which the consonants have certain powers, 
 and the vowels follow in their proper forms to make 
 syllables, as in Greek and all the European languages, 
 and perhaps in some others. In the other system, the 
 vowels are expressed by certain symbols, eacli of which 
 being combined with a consonant, forms as it were a 
 constituent part thereof; and with it is pronounced as 
 one syllabic sound. In the Deva-nagaree system, the 
 alphabet contains original characters for the vowels as 
 well as for the consonants ; and whenever a vowel pre- 
 ccdesa consonant in forming a syllable, orwhen it formsa 
 syllable itself, it retains its original form ; but when it fol- 
 lows a consonant, it is represented by a symbolical mark.* 
 
 • Wliat Mr Carey here terms symbolical marks, appeai-i upon a strict esamination, to be really the proper vowel characters contract- 
 ed or abridged.
 
 534 
 
 ALPHABET. 
 
 "This alphabcl exceeds all others in the regularity 
 of its arrangement ; it consists of five classes of conso- 
 nants, each containing five letters, and of nine niiscella- 
 ncous letters. All Uie letters of each class are pro- 
 nounced by tlie same organ ; the second and fourth are 
 the aspirates of the first and third, and the fifth is a 
 vowel. The four first and two last of the miscella- 
 neous letters are semivowels, and the three others sibi- 
 lants.* 
 
 "This plan forms the basis of every alphabet in India, 
 The forms, and even the number, of letters difl'cr widely 
 in difl'erent countries ; but tlie names and the arrange- 
 ments are the same; the Mahratta ; the Telinga ;] the 
 Karnata ; and the common A'agarec alphabets, with 
 those of Orisna and Gazarat, have all the letters of the 
 Deva-na^aree. In the Tamul alphabet,^^ all the letters 
 of each class are rejected, except the first and the last; 
 and *in some of these alphaljets, only one sibilant is re- 
 tained. The alphabet of Tibet.,% those used in the Bur- 
 inan\\ empire, and two at least of those used in Sumatra, 
 agree in sound and arrangement with the Deva-naga- 
 ree, and only differ in the form of the letters. In these 
 languages, some of the letters are, however, rejected, as 
 being esteemed unnecessary." 
 
 To these remarks it is only necessary to add, that the 
 Sanscrit, or Deva-nagaree alphabet, contains 50 letters, 
 16 vowels, and 34 consonants. It is evident from inspec- 
 tion of the figures, (see Plate XI. Col. 1.) that many of 
 these characters are in fact double characters for the 
 same elementary sound, modified only by a slight shade, 
 either of accentuation, quantity, or aspiration. 
 
 At what time the Sanscrit or other Indian alphabets 
 were formed, we are totally in the dark ; the fables of 
 the Bramins being unworthy of notice. It certainly is 
 of great antiquity, and has obtained very extensive cur- 
 rency. From this source are derived the sacred charac- 
 ters of Thibet, the Cashmerian, Bengalese, Malabaric, H 
 Singatese, Siamese, Birman, and many other alphabets. 
 
 In Plate XII. are given several Oriental alphabets, all 
 of them evidently related to and derived from the Deva- 
 nagaree Sanscrit. Though the forms of the letters are 
 different, yet the essential resemblance of each of the 
 alphabets to the parent stock, indicate beyond a doubt 
 from what source they proceeded. 
 
 The Bramins through all India make use of the San- 
 crit language, as the learned language in which they 
 correspond among themselves ; the Deva-nagaree thus 
 becomes their great medium of communication. 
 
 Copious as the Sanscrit alphabet seems to be, it is so 
 more in appearance than reality ; indeed it may be ques- 
 tioned whether it be even as well adapted for use as the 
 alphabets of Europe. The number of its vowel characters 
 is unnecessarily multiplied, by having separate marks 
 for them when aspirated and not aspirated, instead of 
 the simple contrivance of either a mark, as in the Greek 
 alphabet, for the aspiration applicable to all, or a separate 
 letter, as in the alphabets of Europe. In the consonants, 
 likewise, the adoption of separate characters for each, 
 when immediately followed by an aspiration, gives com- 
 
 plexity, without possessing any advantage over llic 
 method in our European alphabets of denoting such 
 sounds, by subjoining the h wlien necessary. The San- 
 scrit alphabet, on the other hand, seems deficient in 
 having no characters either single or complex, to ex- 
 press they, or the ch, for the aspirated consonants are 
 not in Sanscrit pronounced with the aspirate as one 
 sound ; but the two are kept separate in pronunciation, 
 as with us, the bh, in the word abhor, the th, in hot- 
 house, the /ih, in loojihole. But our information__in re- 
 gard to this language is as yet too limited to enable us 
 to ascertain properly the merits and defects of either its 
 grammar or alphabet. 
 
 The other Oriental alphabets require no particular ob- 
 servations. All of them, as already mentioned, seem 
 formed originally from the Sanscrit, though in some of 
 them a few of the superfluous characters have been 
 dropped as unnecessaiy. In Plate XII, as many Indian 
 alphabets are given, as will serve to convey a general 
 idea of their nature and structure. The Pati,oT sacred 
 characters being in fact contrivances for secret and 
 mysterious writings, the illustration of them does not be- 
 long properly to the present article. 
 
 Having thus at considerable length taken a view of the 
 history of alphabetic writing in different countries, and 
 among different people, it only remains now to offer a 
 few observations on the requisites and proper construc- 
 tion of alphabets in general, which will afford an opportu- 
 nity of noticing the defects in our own alphabet, with the 
 schemes proposed for removing them. 
 
 Letters, it was remarked, in the beginning of the ar- 
 ticle, are marks for denoting the simple elementary 
 sounds occurring in the language to which they are ap- 
 plied ; and the alphabet of a language is the assemblage 
 of these letters in their usual established oi-der. It fol- 
 lows, therefore, that to constitute a complete alphabet, 
 there ought, in the first place, to be a character for each 
 elementary sound ; and no character superfluous. Com- 
 pound sounds ought to have no place there, but should 
 be expressed by the combination of the simple sounds of 
 which they are composed. On the other hand, every 
 established and sanctioned elementary sound occurring 
 in the language, ought to have a separate character in- 
 variably appropriated to it ; though accidental or pro- 
 vincial variations ought not to be regarded. It is, how- 
 ever, no easy matter to ascertain the number of elemen- 
 tary sounds that naturally belong to the human organs, 
 or into which a language is* capable of being resolved. 
 On this subject a great diversity of opinion has prevailed. 
 The learned author of Hermes informs us, that "to 
 about 20 plain elementary sounds we owe that variety 
 of articulate voices, which have been sufficient to ex- 
 plain the sentiments of such an innumerable multitude 
 of all the past and present generations of men." (Herm. 
 Book. iii. c. 2.) The ingenious Wachter (Xaturx et 
 Scrijttum Concordia, p. 64.) endeavours to show, that ten 
 characters only are sufficient for this purpose. His 
 scheme is as follows : 
 
 • See Plate XTI. Col. 1st. 
 § Plate XII, Col. 6th. 
 
 ■f Plate XII. Col. 5th. 
 II PlateXU. Col. 4th. 
 
 * Plate Xn. Col. 2d. 
 TI Plate Xn. Col. rth.
 
 ALrHABET. 
 
 535 
 
 Genus. 
 
 Fic^'iira. 
 
 Potcstas. 
 
 Vocal. 
 
 o 
 
 a. e. i. 0. u. 
 
 Guttural. 
 
 o 
 1 
 
 k. c. ch. 
 q. g.h. 
 
 Lingual. 
 
 4^ 
 
 1. 
 
 Lingual. 
 
 ^T' 
 
 d. t. 
 
 Lingual. 
 
 -^ 
 
 r. 
 
 
 Dental. 
 
 n 
 
 s. 
 
 Labial. 
 
 3 
 
 b. q. 
 
 Labial. 
 
 nr\ 
 
 m. 
 
 Labial. 
 
 c 
 
 s. ph. V. w. 
 
 Nasal. A 
 1 
 
 n. 
 
 Theodore Bibliandcr is of opuiion, that all sounds, both 
 articulate and inarticulate, may be sufficiently expressed 
 by 13 letters and an aspiration, viz. the five ordinary 
 vowels, and the consonants, 6, g, d, I, m, 7i, r, s. {^De 
 ratione communi omnium linguarum.')* 
 
 • It is certainly a very difficult task to ascertain the 
 precise number of elementary sounds which enter into 
 the composition of the various languages of men, and 
 which may be uttered by the human voice. The man who 
 would undertake it ought, in the first place, to be pos- 
 sessed of a nice ear to discriminate, and of flexible vocal 
 organs to imitate. He ought to have travelled among 
 various nations, and to have critically acquired the know- 
 ledge and practice of those sounds which are peculiar to 
 each language. He ought to be well acquainted with 
 the anatomy of the organs of speech, so as to be able 
 accurately to describe their action in giving utterance to 
 each particular sound. He ought lastly to possess a 
 clear analytical head, and a mind accustomed to cool 
 reflection and accurate discrimination; to which should 
 be added the talent of communicating his observations 
 and discoveries, which is not so common as is generally 
 imagined. 
 
 The want of all these qualifications in one individual, 
 has hitherto rendered abortive the various attempts 
 which have been made to enumerate, describe, and clas- 
 sify, the different sounds that are utterable by the hu- 
 man organ. Those who have communicated to the world 
 the result of their observations upon this subject appear 
 
 This excessive simplification of llie number of dis- 
 tinct and articulate sounds, the learned bishop Wilkins 
 
 to have been miserably deficient in some of the most 
 essential requisites. Wachter, for instance, although a 
 German, reckons but five vowels, a, <-, ;, o, «, amonj; 
 simple sounds, and omits o and ij, which very frequently 
 occur in his own language, and although tliey are diph- 
 thongs to the eye, are beyond a doubt simple sounds to 
 the least exercised ear. Among _the consonants he 
 classes /jA, xi, and w, as three distinct sounds ; whereas 
 /;/;, oryand v, are sounded precisely alike in the Ger- 
 man language, which he clearly had in view, for he 
 places nu immediately after them ; the sound of which in 
 the same language is similar to that of our v. This 
 author certainly wanted that nicety of discrimination 
 which is indispensable for the execution of the task 
 which he had undertaken. 
 
 After describing, as we have done, the qualifications 
 that are requisite for the performance of this difficult 
 task, we will not presume to attempt it. But we will 
 throw out a few ideas that have occurred to us in con- 
 sidering this interesting subject. 
 
 We have not been able to discover in any language, 
 that has come within the scope of our observation, more 
 than eight primitive vowels ; four of which are broad or 
 open, and four are acute. 
 
 The four ojien vowels are, 
 
 1. A. German, French, Italian, Sec. and English mall. 
 
 2. M. French e in tete, English ai in air. 
 
 3. O. As pronounced in almost every language. 
 
 4. CE. German, Danish, and Swedish a, or o; French 
 and Low Dutch eu. 
 
 The four acute voiuels are, 
 
 1. E. French accented e — English a in grace. 
 
 2. I. French ;, English ee. 
 
 3. U. German u, English oo, Dutch oe, French ou. 
 
 4. Y. French and Low Dutch u, German it. 
 
 In this list we do not include the nasal vowels, which 
 are but modifications of the four broad or open ones, 
 as will be explained in a subsequent note. 
 
 These eight vowels, however, are not uttered ex- 
 actly alike in every language; the sound given to them 
 is more or less open or acute ; and those various shades 
 of pronunciation may be said in some degree to resem- 
 ble the semi-tones in the musical scale, being mid- 
 dle sounds between the full accurate sound of two neigh- 
 bouring vowels, and which the nice ear will still further 
 discriminate into something like quarter tones in music, 
 as they approach nearer to the one or the other vowel, 
 of the sound of which they are compounded. Thus the 
 sound of in the word God, in the English language, is 
 neither the precise sound of./^apertumnorthatof O in our 
 alphabet, but is something between the two. We are apt 
 to believe that mechanical instruments might be made, 
 by which our eight vowels, and their various shades and 
 compounds, might be accurately expressed to the ear, 
 and the truth of our system might in this manner be 
 easily tested. As the sound of vowels proceeds entirely 
 from the operation of air issuing out of an aperture dis- 
 posed in a particular manner to receive it, we do not 
 know why instruments might not be so contrived as to 
 produce a correct and properly graduated imitation of
 
 536 
 
 ALPHABET. 
 
 pronounces irrational, and requiring no particular refu- 
 tation. Oil buch a subject tlic bisnop is certainly very 
 hif^li authoiity; few men ever bestowed so nmcn atten- 
 tion to investigate llie true constituent principles ol ar- 
 ticuiate speccli, or the various nietliods of expressing it 
 by writing ; and few liave been better quaiified to ascer- 
 tain wiial was doubtful in the principles, by extensive 
 learning, great ingenuity, and indelatigable perseve- 
 rance. In his Essay towards a real character and phi- 
 losophical language, he gives it as the result of his in- 
 vestigation, that 31,characlers would be requisite to ex- 
 press all the articulate sounds that are commonly used 
 in the various know n languages ; and this number he 
 thinks would be sufTicicnt. The following is a list of 
 these characters expressed as nearly as may be in Eng- 
 lish spelling, with the bishop's remarks subjoined con- 
 cerning their frequent or more rare occurrence. 
 
 Aiv, (as in laiv,) is frequently used by oiher nat'ons, 
 but not owned with a distinct character by the English. 
 
 -^, (as in man,) is frcfiuently used by us Englishmen, 
 but not so much by other nations. 
 
 E, (as in send,) is generally received, but very ambi- 
 guously pronounced. 
 
 /, (as mjii,) is not owned by us for a distinct vowel, 
 though wc frequently use the power of it ; and the Mexi- 
 cans are said not to use this letter. {Purchas. lib. v. 
 C.9.) 
 
 O, (as in long^ is not in the Armenian alphabet, nor 
 do the Syrians own it, but use w, or aw instead of it. 
 Some of the ancient cities of Italy, the Umbri and Tanci 
 for instance, do not use this vowel, but ti instead of it. 
 (Pristian. Bishop Walton, Introd. ct Prolfg. lib. xiii. 5.) 
 
 Oo, (as m fool,) according to the true power of it, is 
 not owned by us, nor by many other nations with a dis- 
 tinct character. 
 
 U, (as in but,) is scarce acknowledged by any nation 
 except the Welsh, as requiring a separate character. 
 
 U, (as pronounced by the French,) " is, I think," says 
 the Bishop, " proper to the P'rench, and used l)y none 
 else.* (») 
 
 vocal sounds. But we are not sufficiently acquainted 
 with the principles of the mechanic arts to decide on 
 the practicability of this plan. 
 
 We might subjoin here our analysis and classification 
 of the consonants on analogous principles to that of the 
 vowels which we have here exhibited. But the object of 
 this work is to collect together the knowledge and dis- 
 coveries of which the world is already in possession, and it 
 might be thought presumptuous in an annotator to exhi- 
 bit at large in this place the whole details of a system 
 which never has and never may receive the sanction of 
 public approbation. And it would require, besides, such 
 a development as could not easily be contained in the 
 space allotted for notes to this publication. Duponceau. 
 
 * It is used also by the Low Dutch ; and by the Mila- 
 nese and Venetians, who pronounce this vowel precisely 
 as the French do. It is probable that the vowel u, w hile 
 the Latin tongue was vernactdar, was pronounced like 
 the English oo by the Italians beyond the Rubicon, and 
 by the Spaniards; and that the inhabitants of Cisalpine 
 and Transalpine Oaul, pronounced it as the French and 
 Low Dutch do at present. In Bohemia and some parts 
 of Germany, the it is pronounced like the French u ; in 
 
 (*) It is used in the provinciiil dialect of most p.trls of Scotland. 
 
 71/ and ^/are so general, that I have not yet met with 
 an account of any nation by whom they are not used. 
 
 j'Vg- is not owned for a letter by any, except perhaps 
 the Hebrews. 
 
 V is not pronounced by the Mexicans, Arabians, Per- 
 sians, Saxons. 
 
 Dh seems difficult to most nations, though frequently 
 used by us Englishmen. 
 
 Gh IS not any where used except amongst the Irish. 
 
 L is not used by the Brasilians, (Fi/ici-nt Ic lilanc. 
 Part iii. 16.) nor the men of Japan. (Alex. Rhodes' 
 Diction. Ariim. c. 1.) Many of the Italians, especially 
 the Florentines, do seem to dislike this letter, though 
 others style it the sweetest of all the rest, saith sir Tho- 
 mas Smith. (£)(• rcrta xcri/ilionc iini^nta Anfflicana.) 
 
 R is not used by the Mexicans, Brasilians, nor trie 
 men of China, (say several of the same authors.) The 
 Americans near New England, pronounce neither L nor 
 R; but use N instead of both, pronouncing JVobslan for 
 LobHlcr. 
 
 '/. is not owned for a letter by the inhabitants of Co- 
 chin-China. (Alex. Rhodes, ibid.) 
 
 Z/j is not owned for a distinct letter either by us Eng- 
 lish, or almost any other. { 
 
 //;«, Hn, ling, are not, for aught I know, owned bv 
 any, excepting only the Welsh and Irish ; and the last 
 perhaps by the Jews. 
 
 F is not pronounced by the Brasilians. 
 
 Th seems difficult to many nations, and is owned by 
 very few to be a distinct letter. 
 
 Ch is not used by any, (for aught I can find,) except 
 the Grecians and tlie Welsh. '§) 
 
 /// is almost proper to the Welsh, and scarce us&d 
 by others. 
 
 Hr though frequent among the Grecians, yet is rarely 
 used by others. 
 
 •S is not used by the Mexicans. {Purc/ias. lib. v. 
 c. 9.) 
 
 f>/i. That this was not universal among the Jews, may 
 appear by the Scripture story of Shibolcth, nor is it cither 
 in the Greek or Latin. 
 
 B is not pronounced by the men of China or Japan. 
 {Id. lib. X. c. 3.) 
 
 D is not used amongst the inhabitants of China. 
 Item, vol. V. c. 1 8. sect. 6.) 
 
 G is not pronounced by the Mexicans. ( fos.sius dc Gr. 
 cap. 27.) 
 
 P is not acknowledged in the Arabic, nor was this 
 used amongst the Jews before the invention of points. 
 
 7' is not used by the inhabitants of Japan. 
 
 C, as restrained to the power of K, is, for aught I 
 know, of general use. {Essay towards a real Character, 
 Part iii. c. 14.) 
 
 It must be owned, that this alphabet of bishop Wil- 
 kins', is ingeniously constructed ; and if brought into 
 use, it would be sufficiently copious for the notation of 
 
 other parts of that country it has a mixed sound, par- 
 taking of the French u and of the ;, something between 
 both. Duponceau. 
 
 \ It has a distinct sound among the French and Portu- 
 guese, represented by the letters G and J ; among the 
 Russians by a particular character of their own ; and in 
 Poland by the letter Z, with a comma or accent over it. Id. 
 
 (J) The Scots ought to have been added. Kd.
 
 ALPHABET. 
 
 537 
 
 almost any language with which we are acquainted ; in- 
 deed it may be rather deemed unnecessarily copious, 
 as there would undoubtedly be no great occasion ever 
 to adopt separate characters for sounds so seldom occur- 
 ing, as the A/, hin, or hn. 
 
 For the notation of most of the modern European lan- 
 guages, with sufllicient precision and fullness, it would 
 appear that an alphabet, consisting of 28 or 29 distinct 
 letters, might completely suflicc, provided each of these 
 were invariably appropriated to a different elementary 
 sound, and none of them rendered superfluous, by either 
 expressing a compounded instead of a simple sound, or 
 by expressing a sound already marked by another cha- 
 racter.* 
 
 * As far as we are acquainted with some of the mo- 
 dern European languages, we think that it would require 
 at least from 38 to 40 distinct characters to express the 
 simple sounds which are to be found in thein. Those 
 are at least 12 or H vowels, one aspirate, and 25 conso- 
 nants, which wc shall here enumerate. 
 
 Vowels. 
 
 1. The eight primitive vowels which Ave have men- 
 tioned in a preceding note. 
 
 2. The tour nasal vowels of the French language, 
 which are expressed in writing by the combinations of 
 letters an, in, on, un. Those are nothing else than the 
 four broad or open primitive vowels uttered through the 
 nose, and might be expressed by the characteristic let- 
 ters of those vowels with a line underneath, thus A, vE, 
 O, ffi. 
 
 To which ought to be added various compound or 
 semitone vowels, which are to be found in particular 
 languages, as for instance, the o afiertum in the English 
 words God, not, and in the Italian word foglio, which 
 sound is something between that of o and a, but cannot 
 be reckoned among the primitive vowels. It is the 
 same with the acute o in the Italian word oggi, which is 
 something between o and ;;, and is very different from 
 the proper natural sound of o in the English words robe, 
 globe. Those semitone vowels occur more frequently in 
 the modern European languages than is generally ima- 
 gined, and nothing can be more difficult than to express 
 them accurately to the eye in an universal alphabet. 
 The different nations of tlie world diff"er much more 
 from each other in the pronunciation of vowels than in 
 that of consonants. 
 
 Asfiirate. 
 
 The same which is expressed in English by the let- 
 ter H. 
 
 Conso7iants. 
 
 1. Fourteen of those which are used and sounded 
 alike in the English and most of the other modern lan- 
 guages of Europe, to wit, b, c or k, d, f, g as sounded 
 before a and a, /, m, n, p, r, s, t, xi, z. 
 
 15. The Spanish «, Italian and French gn, and English 
 ng as sounded after the letter i. 
 
 16. The Spanish double //, Portuguese //;, Italian^/, 
 and French I mouilUe. 
 
 17. The Polish crossed i and the /I of the Russians, 
 the sound of which is guttural. 
 
 18. The German cli in muchen. 
 
 19. The same in (c/i, different from the former. 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 In examining the mbdern alphabets by the principles 
 which ouglit to rcgidate tlie construction of a complete 
 alphabet, it caiuiot be denied that considerable defects 
 will appear. Tiiesc alpiiubcts being formed from the 
 Roman, it is no way suvprisiiig that they should not in 
 all respects be fully adapted to languages in great pari, 
 derived from the northern tongues. Alter all, however, 
 these imperfections do not materially affect their use 
 and application to the expression of almost any words 
 whatever which we wish to signify in writing ; we can 
 conceive indeed, that, by certain alterations, this might 
 sometimes be done with greater simplicity, conciseness, 
 and perspicuity ; but still, even with the present form 
 and structure of our letters, the object may in general 
 be fully, and without any extraordinary difficulty, attain- 
 
 20. The GAof the Flemish and Low Dutch, and r of 
 the Russians, the sound of which is guttural, and differs 
 from cli, precisely as G. durum differs from K. 
 
 2 1 . The English sh, French ch, Russian ^ , and Polish 
 
 22. The French and Portuguese _;, which is the 111 
 
 of the Russians, and accented Z of the Poles. 
 
 23. The English th in thunder, thought. 
 
 24. The same in then, that. 
 
 25. The English y in young, which is the same with 
 the German g in bitUg, and in gem. 
 
 Making in the whole, as we have said above, 25 sim- 
 ple consonants, which all would require to be expressed 
 by a distinct character. 
 
 If a general alphabet of simple sounds were to be 
 made as proposed by bishop Wilkins, it cannot be ex- 
 pected that it would very soon, if ever, be introduced 
 into universal use, except among the learned, who by 
 means of it would be enabled to express to the eye the 
 true pronunciation of the languages of distant nations 
 and of the proper names of distant men and places. 
 Thus a Frenchman who finds, in a book of travels, the 
 proper names of Owhyhee^aiA Lee-Boo, vionXA no longer 
 read the former 0-vee-ha, and the latter La-a-Bo-o; and 
 monsieur de Lille would not have written this line which 
 sounds so uncouth to an English ear: 
 
 Qu'flM malheureux Bo.o ton sort doit J aire envie. 
 
 Ij Imagination, Chant I. 
 
 To render such an alphabet as extensively useful as 
 possible, care should be taken not to introduce into it 
 many new and unknown characters, but to make use when- 
 ever it can be done, of those of the Roman alphabet, giv- 
 ing to each letter the proper sound which it most gene- 
 rally obtains among the nations of Europe, and extending 
 their application, by the use of accents and commas 
 above and below, and of little strokes across some of the 
 letters ; by means of which the Polish nation has been 
 able, with the Roman alphabet alone, to express all the 
 soimds of the more copious alphabets of the Sclavo- 
 nic idioms ; so that a Russian may as easily write his 
 language with the Polish alphabet as with his own, 
 which he could not do with that of any other Euro- 
 pean nation. There would be in this manner a greater 
 chance of its being adopted at first for the purposes 
 of literary communication ; and when the eye had 
 once long been accustomed to it, there is no knowing 
 how far its use might not be afterwards extended. 
 
 DUPONCEAU. 
 
 3 Y
 
 o38 
 
 ALPHABET. 
 
 cd. As defects however are found, tliese have at differ- 
 ent times engaged the attention of ingenious men, and 
 schemes for a more perfect system of letters have been 
 given to the world. It may be worth while to take a short 
 view of one or two of the schemes thus proposed. 
 
 Our English alphabet, it has been justly remarked, 
 is both redundant and defective. In it several characters 
 are superfluous ; as C, whose place is supplied some- 
 times by K, sometimes by S ; and J, which may be sup- 
 plied either by G or I. In other cases, there is a defi- 
 ciency of characters, as in the instance of the vowels, of 
 which many more are used in pronunciation than five, 
 the number of tlie vowel letters : and frequently, where 
 the sound is simple, the character is complex. Thus 
 ah in s/ia/ii', is a simple sound ; as is l/i in tinunb, and ng 
 in king. These defects are aggravated by the very arbi- 
 traiy orthography, introduced by custom into the Eng- 
 lish language, which deviates often more widely from 
 a just representation of the words as they are uttered, 
 and from the principles of a regular analogy, than the 
 orthography of any other language of Europe. Thus 
 the following words, though they are spelt dift'erently, 
 are pronounced exactly alike : Dear, Deer ; Heart, Hart; 
 Son, Sun ; To, Two, Too, See. Some words, on the other 
 hand, though spelt alike, are differently pronounced; 
 as, Gi-ue, (the verb,) and Give, (a chain,) 8cc. read in the 
 present, and read in the past tense. The most remark- 
 able of these anomalies is in the case of the termina- 
 tion oug-/i, which in different words is pronounced in no 
 fewer than nine different manners ; it has the sound of 
 it/i in hiccough ; of aou in bough ; of o in dough ; of off 
 in cough ; of ock in lough ; of uff in tough ; of ou in 
 through ; of o short in thorough ; and of aw in thought* 
 
 This is a very wide violation of the precept of Quin- 
 tilian, that words ought to be written exactly as they are 
 pronounced, in order that they may be a fit sign to those 
 
 * The greatest difficulty, in the way of reducing the 
 notation of the English alphabet to the representation 
 of simple sounds, is the great number of 6i'/n(;'one vow- 
 els that are to be found in the pronunciation of that lan- 
 guage ; the sound of many of which is so doubtful and 
 ambiguous, that they may almost be said to be inarticu- 
 late, and their pronunciation incapable of being fixed by 
 signs with a sufficient degree of discrimination and pre- 
 cision. Indeed, there is an immense number of unac- 
 cented syllables in the English idiom, in which any one 
 of the six vowels may be substituted for another, with- 
 out any perceptible change in the sound. Take, for in- 
 stance, the word labor, the last syllable of it may be writ- 
 ten with any one vowel, between the two consonants b, r; 
 thus : labar, laber, labir, labor, labur, labyr, and the pro- 
 nunciation will not be varied by the change. The same 
 may be done with the a in the second syllable of inad- 
 vertence, and the e in the second syllable of aperture. 
 A nice ear may, perhaps, discern some small shade of 
 difference between the proper sound of the a in re- 
 .?/iec<ci!>/e, and that of the i in contemptible ; but that dif- 
 ference is so small that the vulgar will frequently spell 
 the last syllable of words ending in able or ible indis- 
 <;riminately with an a or an i. In short, in almost every 
 one of the English polysyllables, the pronunciation of 
 the unaccented vowels is so vague and indeterminate, 
 that nothing would be more difficult than to fix it by 
 signs precisely adapted to each particular sound. 
 
 DUFONCEAV. 
 
 who read them, of the sounds they arc intended to con- 
 vey. " Ego nisi quod conuueiudo oblinuerit, sic scriben- 
 dum quodquc judico quomodo sonal : hic enim usua est 
 literarum, ut custodiant voces et velut depositum rcddunt 
 l( gentibus ; itui/ue id exprimere debeni, quod diet uri sunt." 
 {Inst. Oral. 1. 1. t. 7.) It is unfortunate, that custom is 
 with great difficulty got the better of in this particular; 
 and when once a moile of orthography is sanctioned by 
 habit, it too often obstinately withstands all innovation or 
 improvement. It is related, that Chilperick, king of 
 France, havmg enjoined by edict, that the Greek du- 
 plices and aspirates ^, x> <?. I> ■>^. should be employed 
 throughout his dominions for the greater commodious- 
 ness of writing, and taught in the schools; no sooner 
 was he dead than they were entirely disused. The great 
 Augustus himself declared, that he was unable to bring 
 into use a single new word. Some improvements, how- 
 ever, have, by perseverance, been made in our ortho- 
 graphy. We now no longer write indiscriminately v 
 for u, and j for i, as our forefathers did ; but give to the 
 V and j the constant power of consonants, and to the u 
 and i their proper efl'ect as vowels; and doubtless more 
 improvements might be accomplished if gone about in 
 a cautious and judicious manner. 
 
 The ingenious Dr Franklin had bestowed considerable 
 attention on the reformation of the English orthography, 
 and actually constructed a new alphabet and system of 
 spelling, apparently free from any of the above objec- 
 tions. In the alphabet of Franklin, c was omitted as 
 superfluous, k supplying its hard sound, and s its soft; 
 k also supplied the place of q, and with an s added, the 
 place oi x; y and x were therefore omitted also. The 
 vowel u being sounded as oo, made w unnecessary. The 
 ?/, where used simply, was supplied by i, and where as 
 a diphthong, by two vowels; it was therefore likewise 
 omitted, as was the j, whose place was otherwise sup- 
 plied. In the room of these six discarded letters, six 
 new characters were introduced, all expressive of sim- 
 ple sounds employed in the English language, and dis- 
 tinguished by peculiar formsT The first of these was 
 meant to express the long a, as in awl, ball, folly. Sec; 
 to avoid introducing new characters, we shall mark it 
 by "a," with a line under it thus a. The second was 
 for the short j/,as in umbrage, unto, &c. and may be ex- 
 pressed by ^; the third was for sh in ship, wish, Sec. and 
 may be marked £; the fourth was for ng in throng, 
 among, kc. and may be marked |;; the fifth was for th 
 in think, and may be marked '_ ; and the sixth was for 
 dh in thu, and may be marked ^. The difference be- 
 tween short and long vowels was expressed by a single 
 vowel where short, and a double one where long. Thus, 
 for mend,\\'nx.e mend; but for remain'd, write remeend ; 
 for did, write did ; but for deed, write diid. See. 
 
 These twenty-six characters, which were supposed 
 to comprehend all the simple sounds in the English 
 language, Franklin arranged in a new order, which he 
 supposed more agreeable to nature than the common 
 one. He began with the vowels which are chiefly 
 sounded by the windpipe, with very little help from the 
 tongue, teeth, or lips, in the following order, o, a, a, e, i, 
 u, u; then followed the aspirate h; then the consonants 
 formed by the roof of the tongue next to the windpipe, 
 viz. g, k, .?, g ; then those formed more forward by the 
 forepart of the tongue against the roof of the mouth, viz. 
 n, r, t, d ; then those formed still more forward in the 
 mouth, by the tip of the tongue applied first to the roots 
 of the upper teeth, viz. I, s, z; then those formed by
 
 ALPHABET. 
 
 539 
 
 ihc tip of the tongue applied lo tlic ends or edges of the 
 upper teeth, viz. f, d ; then those formed still more for- 
 ward, by the under lip applied to the upper teeth, viz. 
 f, V ; then those formed yet more forward, by the upper 
 and under lip opening to let out the sounding breath, 
 viz. b, p; and lastly, the shutting up of tlie mouth, or 
 closing the lips, while any vowel is sounding, viz. m. 
 
 We give the two following specimens of writing, ac- 
 cording to Franklin's metliod, which, beuig well known 
 passages of poetry, may be easily decyphered by our 
 readers. 
 
 So huen sam Eud*el bui divKln kamand 
 Uid ruizig tempests seeks e gilti land ; 
 (Suit* as ov leet or peel Britaiiia past) 
 Kalm and siriin hi driiivs <li fuirius blast ; 
 And pliiz'd rf' almuitis ardiirs tu piirform, 
 Ruids in di Hiuirluind and duirekts di starm. 
 
 So di pulr limpid striim huen faul ult steens 
 As ruiiig tarents and disendig reens, 
 Uurks itself kliir j and az it runs rifoins ; 
 Til bui digi'lis, de floti^ minir s«ins, 
 Ritiekts iits flaur dat an its bardar groz, 
 And e nu hevn in its feer busum sui. 
 
 Sec Franklin's Works, vol. ii. p. 357 — 366.* 
 
 * Other Americans have attempted, but without suc- 
 cess, to reform the alphabet of the English language, 
 and some have published elaborate works upon the sub- 
 ject, among which the following are the most deserving 
 of notice. 
 
 Cadmus, or a Treatise on the Elements of written Lan- 
 guage illustrating by a /i/iiloso/i/iical diinsion oj S/ieec/i, 
 the flower of each character, thereby mutually fixing the 
 orthography and orthoepy. By William Thornton, M. D. 
 member of the societies of Scots j1nti(juaries of Edinburgh 
 and Perth, the Medical Society, and the Society of A/atural 
 History of Edinburgh ; the American Philosophical So- 
 ciety, &.C. 110 pages 8vo. Philadelphia, Aitken, 1793. 
 
 The Columbian Alphabet, being an attempt to new- 
 model the English Alphabet in such 7nan7ier as to mark 
 every simjde sound by an appropriate character, thereby 
 rendering the spelling and pronunciation more determinate 
 and correct, and the art of reading and writing more ea- 
 sily attainable. By James Ewing. 28 pages Svo. Tren- 
 ton, Day, 1798. 
 
 Mr Noah Webster, well known among us as a respec- 
 table literary character, has adopted a new system of 
 English orthography, which he has made use of in seve- 
 ral of his works, but has not written any thing that wc 
 know of, to explain or develope the principle of his in- 
 novations. Neither his plan nor those of Dr Thornton 
 and Dr Ewing have been adopted in practice. 
 
 Dr Thornton's alphabet consists of thirty letters, of 
 which seven are vowels, twenty-two consonants, and one 
 aspirate. Two of the vowels and five of the consonants 
 are represented by new characters. One of these let- 
 ters stands for wh, which in pur opinion is erroneously 
 exhibited as a simple sound. 
 
 Mr Ewing's alphabet has thirty -three letters, eleven 
 vowels, twenty-one consonants, and one aspirate, among 
 which are also several new characters. 
 
 Mr Webster has not added any new letters to the 
 English alphabet ; his oithography consists only in a dif- 
 
 Other authors give a different estimate of the num- 
 ber of simple sounds in the English language. Accord- 
 ing to Mr Slieridan, the number of these sounds is 28. 
 He nearly coincides with Franklin in his enumeration 
 of the simple consonants ; but reckons more vowels, and 
 rejects from the number of real letters the aspiration //. 
 Sec his Rhetorical (Irammar, p. 9. 
 
 The following is his scheme of tlie English alphabet: 
 
 Number of simple sounds in our tongue 28. 
 
 3 12 3 2 3 111 
 
 9 Vowels, aaa c o o eiu 
 hall hat hate beer note noose bet fit but* 
 
 w 
 short oo 
 
 Y 
 
 short ee 
 
 ferent manner of employing those that are already in 
 use, of which the following is a specimen: 
 
 " Our forefathers took mezurcs to firezerve the reputa- 
 tion of skools, and the morals of yuth, by making the 
 business of teeching them an honorable employment. 
 Every town or district haz a committee whozc duty iz 
 to procure a master of talents and karacicr, and the prac- 
 tice iz to procure a man of the best character in the 
 town or nabourhood." 
 
 In this short paragraph taken at random at the open- 
 ing of the book, Mr Webster has himself furnished a 
 striking example of the difficulty of introducing such 
 innovations into universal practice, by forgetting his 
 own rules in several places. He writes, for instance, 
 the word busi7iess according to the old orthography, 
 while he writes iz, haz, whoze. Sec, while to be consis- 
 tent he should write buziness or biziness, or perhaps 
 bizness. So in the word character, he employs in one 
 place the letter k and in another the letter c to express 
 the same sound; he spells it Aarac^fr, whereas, accord- 
 ing to his own principle, it should be cither karakter or 
 caracter ; and so completely does he forget himself, that 
 in the next line he entirely reverts to the old mode of 
 spelling, character. See Webster's Collection of Essays 
 and fugitiv writings, page 337. 
 
 This writer therefore affords a strong practical ar- 
 gument against great and sudden alterations in the or- 
 thography of a living language. The most celebrated 
 authors have failed in similar attempts ; even such a 
 man as Voltaire found the greatest difficulty in in- 
 troducing a trifling alteration in the spelling of a few 
 French words; and his orthography is yet very far from 
 being universally adopted. 
 
 On the other hand, when time and usage have actually 
 effected a change in the manner of writing certain words, 
 it is in vain to attempt to restore the exploded ortho- 
 graphy. Thus, Dr Johnson, who deserved to be styled 
 the colossus of literature, notwithstanding the immense 
 weight of his authority and influence, was not able to 
 restore the ancient mode of spelling the words honor, 
 emperor, music. Sec. and it is now looked upon as childish 
 affectation to spell those words as they were written in 
 the days of Addison and Steele, honour, emfierour, mu- 
 
 sick. Sec. DUPONCEAU. 
 
 * The sound of the vowel o in note, and that of u in 
 but, are not two distinct simple sounds; the two vowels 
 are pronounced exactly alike, with the difference only, 
 that the one is long and the other short. If their quantity 
 were the same, the word note would be pronounced 7iut, 
 3 Y 2
 
 540 
 
 ALPHABET. 
 
 „ i clj t(l el' eg ck cl om en cp cr es ct 
 
 19 Consonanl,, ^ ^^ ^^ ^^,^ ^,,^ ^^,^ ^.^,^ i„g 
 
 2 Sujierjluous, c, which has the power of ck or ess; 
 <7, that of ck before u. 
 
 2 Co?/iJiound, j, which stands for cd:/i ; 
 
 X, for A« or gz. 
 
 1 Ab /('«fr, /;, merely a mark of aspiration. 
 Consonants divided into Mutes and ScmivoivcU. 
 6 Mutes, cb ed eg ck ep et. 
 3 Pure Mutes, ek cp et. 
 3 Imfiure, eb ed eg. 
 
 "5 3 Se7iiivowels'> cf el em en cr ess ev ez eth eth esh 
 or liquids, 5 '^'^^ *"£• 
 
 9 Vocal, el em en er ev ez ctli ezh ing. 
 4 .4siiirated, ef ess eth esh. 
 
 Divided again into 
 4 Labial, cb cp ep ef. 
 8 Dental, cd et eth eth ez ess ezh esh. 
 4 Palatine, eg ek cl cr. 
 
 3 JVasal, em en ing. 
 
 To make our alphabet complete, Mr Sheridan thinks 
 would require nine additional characters ; but, on the 
 other hand, several of our suptrlluous letters might be 
 thrown out. 
 
 Other schemes for the reformation of the English 
 alphabet have been proposed ; but none of them secni 
 to require particular notice. Custom, it is probable, will 
 ever be found too powerful an obstacle to their adoption, 
 were their advantages unequivocally certain. One in- 
 convenience, it is pretty clear, would result from the 
 substitution of any new formed alphabet in room of our 
 present one ; the analogy of the language, and the deri- 
 vations of words, would often be entirely lost sight of, 
 and thus the language might lose in one way as much 
 as it gained in anotlier. 
 
 Before concluding this article, it may be proper to 
 make a very few observations on the forms of letters. 
 AVhence these were originally taken, it is impossible 
 now to ascertain. Some have supposed them to be ta- 
 ken from the outlines of figures in the picture writing 
 which preceded them, or the contracted figures of some 
 of the most familiar objects ; a conjecture thought to 
 be supported by the significations of the names of the 
 letters in the Hebrew or Samaritan alphabet, some 
 fancied resemblances being traced between the form of 
 the letter and the outlines of the object which its name 
 expressed. Others have found the foi-ms of the letters 
 in the position of the organs of speech, or in their 
 pronunciation. Of these opinions, the former appears 
 tlic more probable, though neither can be regarded as 
 lerlain. M. Nelme, in his Essay on the Origin of 
 
 or the word but would sound like bote. The same ob- 
 servation will apply to a in hate and e in bet, which are 
 similar in sound, and differ only in quantity. It will ap- 
 ply also to ai in fair, and a in /lat, which arc sounded 
 alike, though the former is long and the latter short. 
 Yet Mr Sheridan has not included the diphthong ai in 
 his list of simple sounds, although there is as much rea- 
 son to distinguish it from a in liat, as there is to distin- 
 guish in note from u in hut, and a in hate from e in bet. 
 Mr Sheridan's classification cannot therefore be consi- 
 dered as sufficiently analytical and correct. Dutonceau. 
 
 Letters, has bestowed niucli pains in shewing that aii 
 elementary characters or letters derive their forms front 
 the line and the circle. His alphabet consists of 13 
 radical letters, four diminished and four augmented; 
 and he proves, that his characters are very similar to 
 those of the ancient Etruscans. Mr Nehr.e, however, 
 might have saved all his trouble ; for as all characters 
 must of necessity be composed either of lines, circles, 
 or parts of circles, his investigations only proved what 
 was before evident at first sight. After all, however, 
 the forms of alphabetic characters have been so niuch 
 varied in difl'erent countries, that it is impossible to 
 enter into any particular discussion of them ; nor indeed 
 is this necessary for elucidating the subject. It is 
 sufficient to observe, that for the perfection of an alpha- 
 bet, it would be desirable, in regard to the forms of the 
 letters, that they should be perspicuous and distinct, 
 so as to avoid the hazard of being confounded or mis- 
 taken ; that their conformation should be sufficiently 
 simple and regular, so as to be formed with ease and 
 expedition ; that the shape should be such as readily to 
 unite into words without losing their distinctive figure ; 
 and that, if possible, some degree of elegance and 
 beauty should be attained, so far as this can be done 
 without sacrificing perspicuity. In these different res- 
 pects, few alphabets surpass the Greek and the Roman ; 
 and though ingenious men have amused themselves 
 with imagining characters which they suppose more 
 simple or more convenient than those now in use, none 
 of these appear to possess such advantages as are likely 
 to bring them into use. To contrive a new set of charac- 
 ters is no difficult task, but to demonstrate their superior 
 utility, would probably be found a more arduous underta- 
 king. 
 
 Those who wish for a more particular investigation 
 of the subject of alphabetic writing may consult the 
 foUowmg authors : Hermannus Hugo de prima scribendi 
 origine, 1617; a small tract evincing diligence in re- 
 search, though not distinguished by much ingenuity or 
 acuteness. Enquiry into the Antiquity and Original of 
 Letters, 1726; nearly of the same character as the pre- 
 ceding, and disfigured with credulous observations on 
 the antediluvian letters. Mons. Gebelin's Monde 
 Primitif, vol. iii. 1775 ; a work of vast erudition, but 
 which, in treating of subjects of remote antiquity, re- 
 curs often to conjecture instead of proof. Wilkins' 
 Essay on a Real Character, and Philosophical Language ; 
 in which he proposes his reformed alphabet, already 
 particularly noticed. Bishop Warburton's Divine Lega- 
 tion, particularly the Dissertation on Hieroglyphic Cha- 
 racters ; a dissertation distinguished by much of the 
 characteristic erudition, ingenuity and vigour of thought, 
 for which the bishop is justly celebrated. Conjectural 
 Observations on the Origin and Progress of Alphabetic 
 Writing, 1772 ; a tract containing some curious obser- 
 vations on the origin of letters, though in several pomts 
 rather inconclusive. Astle on the Origin and Progress 
 of Writing ; a very valuable work, so far as regards the 
 history of writing in Europe, from the decline of the 
 Roman Empire downwards ; but in regard to the remote 
 history of alphabetic writing, vague and unsatisfactory. 
 Gilbert Wakefield's Dissertation on the Origin of Al- 
 phabetic Writing, in the 4th volume of the Transac- 
 tions of the Manchester Society. Wise's Essay on the 
 Origin of the Language and Letters of Europe. W^in- 
 der's Essay on Knowledge. Jackson's Chronological 
 Antiquities, Ancient Universal History, vols. iii. and
 
 ALP 
 
 ALP 
 
 541 
 
 XX. Anselm Bailey's Introduction to Language. Lon- 
 don Philosophical Transactions, vol. xvi. N° 182. vol. 
 xl. N° 445. vol. xlviii. N" 87. Sir William Jones's 
 Essay oiTthe Orthography of Asiatic words, in the first 
 volume of the Asiatic Transactions. 
 
 In the French Encyclopedic, vol. ii. of the Plates, 
 there is a large collection of alphabets ancient and mo- 
 dern, 49 in number, splendidly engraved, and collected 
 
 with great labour and attention. Fry's Pantographia, 
 lately published, contains a more numerous collection 
 of alphabets, but by no means so well formed and ar- 
 ranged as those in the Encyclopedic. 
 
 For a particular account of the systems invented by 
 Bishop Wilkins, Leibnitz, Lodovick, and others, for a 
 real and universal character, see CuAUAcriiR. (i5) 
 
 ALPHONSO I. or Don Alonso Enriquez, the first 
 king of Portugal, was born in the year 1 109. He was 
 the son of Henry Count of Burgundy, and of Theresa, 
 daughter of Alphouso VL, king of Leon and Castile. 
 His father had received, as a dowry with his wife, the 
 greater part of Portugal, which he held, with the title 
 of Count, ot the king of Castile, his father-in-law. Af- 
 ter his death in 1112, Theresa, with the assistance of 
 Ferdinand Perez, Count of Frastemara, continued to 
 govern Portugal till the year 1128. At this period, the 
 nobles, having become jealous of the power of Perez, 
 or having been offended by the reports of his intima- 
 cy with the queen, advised Alphonso, who was now in 
 his eighteenth year, to assume the sovereign authority. 
 His mother and her party had recourse to arms ; but 
 the young prince, by the advice of his nobility, gave 
 them battle, and gained a complete victory. He took 
 Theresa prisoner, and held her in confinement till her 
 death, which took place about two years after this event. 
 After defeating the Moors, who had made an inroad 
 into his territories, he turned his arms against the 
 kingdom of Gallicia, under the pretence of pursuing 
 Ferdinand Perez, who had retired thither ; but, in 
 reality, with a view to recover some places, which his 
 mother had possessed in that country. This attack 
 drew upon him the vengeance of his cousin Alphonso 
 Vn., king of Leon and Castile, who entered Portugal 
 with a numerous army, and ravaged the country to a 
 great extent. He concluded a peace with that prince 
 in 1137, on the conditions, that all places and prisoners, 
 taken on both sides, should be restored ; and as the 
 Pope's legate had used his influence to procure such 
 favourable terms, the Count Alphonso voluntarily ac- 
 knowledged himself tributary to the Roman see, and 
 engaged to pay annually four ounces of gold. In 1139 
 he completely routed a numerous army of the Moors 
 in the plains of Ourique ; and, immediately after the 
 victory, was proclaimed by his soldiers king of Por- 
 tugal. Having made some farther conquests from the 
 Moors, he assembled the states of his kingdom in 1145; 
 and, with their unanimous consent, was crowned by the 
 archbishop of Braga. They declared him independent 
 of the king of Leon and Castile, and of every other 
 prince ; vowed to support him in his sovereignty ; and, 
 drawing their swords, exclaimed with enthusiasm, 
 " We arc free, our king is free, and we owe our liberty 
 to our courage ; and if he shall ever submit to do ho- 
 mage, he deserves death, and shall neither reign over 
 us, nor remain among us." After his coronation he mar- 
 ried Matilda, daughter of Amadeus, Count of Maurienne 
 and Savoy ; and spent some time in visiting the several 
 provinces of his kingdom. In 1147, by the assistance 
 of a band of adventurers, who were on their way to the 
 Holy Land, he recovered Lisbon from the Moors, and 
 added many other places to bis dominions. He ap- 
 
 plied himself to preserve and improve the territories 
 which he had acquired ; and in all his plans he found 
 an able and active assistant in his queen Matilda. He 
 repaired the cities which had fallen into decay, and en- 
 couraged strangers to settle among his subjects. He 
 restored the Episcopal sec of Lisbon ; and appointed as 
 bishop an English divine named Gilbert, who had been 
 among the crusaders by whom he was assisted in cap- 
 turing the place. In his old age, he was engaged in 
 frequent disputes with his son-in-law, Feixlinand, king of 
 Leon, who required him to do homage for his dominions. 
 In the latter part of his reign, he was greatly assisted 
 by his son Uon Sancho, who commanded his troops on 
 several occasions ; and who gained a memorable victory 
 over the Moors at Santaren in 1183. This decisive de- 
 feat procured a season of repose, for the aged king, 
 who had retired to Coimbra, where he was attended by 
 his nobility, to conceit measures for the future security 
 of his territories; and where he died in 1185, in the 
 76th year of his age, and 57th of his reign. He was 
 greatly regretted by his subjects, and buried with much 
 solemnity. He is said to have been a person of ex- 
 traordinary strength, about seven feet in height, and 
 possessed of great military courage. He is more de- 
 serving, however, of admiration, forthe free constitution 
 and excellent laws which he established at his corona- 
 tion ; and for the anxiety which he shewed to have these 
 benefits secured to his subjects. See Mod. Un. Hist. \ol. 
 xxii. p. 14 — 36. {r/) 
 
 ALPHONSO, or Alonso II. surnamed the Fat, 
 king of Portugal, succeeded his father Don Sancho, in 
 1212. He was 27 years of age when he began to reign. 
 He assisted the king of Castile, and favoured the 
 knights of the order of Avis. These two acts procured 
 him considerable reputation ; but the lustre of his name 
 was soon tarnished by the quarrels in which he engaged 
 with his own family. His father having observed that 
 he shewed little affection towards his brothers and sis- 
 ters, endeavoured to render them as independent of him 
 as possible. To the former he had given much wealth 
 in money and jewels ; and to the latter, some of the best 
 places in the khigdom, with their revenues. Alphonso 
 insisted that it was not in his father's power to dis- 
 member his dominions ; endeavoured to persuade his 
 sisters to restore their possessions to the crown ; and 
 when his remonstrances failed, he had recourse to arms. 
 The princesses were favoured by the nobility, and de- 
 fended themselves with vigour. They applied for pro- 
 tection to Ferdinand king of Leon, and to Pope Innocent 
 III The former invaded Portugal, but at length con- 
 cluded a peace with Alphonso, through the mediation 
 of the king of Castile. The latter laid Alphonso and his 
 dominions under an interdict ; and then effected a re- 
 conciliation between that prince and his sisters. The 
 peace of the kingdom was again very soon disturbed by
 
 542 
 
 ALPllONSO. 
 
 the incursions of the Moors ; but, by llie assistance of an 
 army of Germans and l-'lcmings, bound for the Holy 
 Land, who had come to refit in the port of Lisbon, he 
 completely routed the army of the Moors, and took from 
 them the fortress of Alca9ar-do-sal, which had been 
 deemed impregnable. The farther progress of tlie war 
 was interrupted by the interference of Pope Honorius, 
 who refused to allow the crusaders to remain longer in 
 Portugal. Alphonso was again harassed by internal 
 dissensions in his kingdom. The people complained of 
 the severity of the laws ; and the clergy refused their 
 contribution of troops and money. The king seized the 
 revenues of the archbishop of Braga, and obliged him 
 to quit his dominions. The Pope excommunicated the 
 king, and put the kingdom under an interdict. The 
 confusion occasioned by this sentence, obliged Alphonso 
 to enter into negotiations with his subjects ; but before 
 any reconciliation could be accomplished, he died in the 
 12th year of his reign, A. D. 1223. He was a prince of 
 extraordinary size and strength, and was animated by 
 such a courageous spirit, that his subjects found it 
 necessary to restrain him in the field of battle. He 
 enacted a number of statutes for the relief and protection 
 of the lower classes ; framed a body ol laws for the 
 direction of the judges ; and protected the laity against 
 the oppressive measures of the ecclesiastics. Most of 
 the disturbances during the latter part of his reign were 
 occasioned by these, and similar regulations, for the im- 
 partial distribution of justice, rather than his own 
 misconduct. See Mod. Un. Hist. vol. xxii. p. 41 — 45. 
 
 (?) 
 
 ALPHONSO, or Alonso HL king of Portugal, was 
 
 appointed regent by the pope, during the life ot his bro- 
 ther Sancho, in 1245 ; and succeeded him on the throne 
 in 1248, in the 38th year of his age. Thougli he had 
 employed many dishonourable means to seduce the sub- 
 jects of his brother from their allegiance, and had bribed 
 several of his governors to surrender their charges into 
 his hands ; yet, as soon as he became king of Portugal, 
 he shewed no regard to those, who had thus served him 
 at the expense of their honour, but received into his 
 favour and councils, all who had remained faithful to 
 his predecessor. He made considerable conquests from 
 the Moors, and acted with great prudence and address 
 in the administration of his internal affairs. He enacted 
 several useful laws, reformed a multitude of abuses, and 
 restrained the factious and licentious. He married Donna 
 Beatrix, the natural daughter of Alphonso, the wise 
 king of Leon and Castile ; but on account of several 
 irregularities attending this match, pope Alexander IV. 
 put his kingdom under an interdict. Upon the death of 
 his first queen, whom he had divorced for sterility, pope 
 Urban IV. removed the interdict, and legitimated the 
 children of Donna Beatrix. By means of commissioners, 
 he settled with the king of Castile the boundaries of 
 their respective dominions; and at length, upon a visit 
 to that prince, who was his father-in-law, he had the ad- 
 dress to obtain an exemption of the crown of Portugal 
 from all homage to that of Castile. Encouraged by his 
 successes, he proceeded to extend the authority of the 
 crown, and obliged the clergy to contribute to the ex- 
 penses of the state. This rekindled former disputes, 
 and by the influence of Martin, archbishop of Braga, 
 the kingdom was again put under an interdict in 1268. 
 Alphonso amused the court of Rome with fruitless ne- 
 gotiations; but in the mean time, received the cardinals 
 and legates who came to Portugal, with the' utmost 
 
 magnificence and respect. At length, a short time be- 
 fore his death, he made a full submission to the church, 
 received absolution, and died in 1279, in the 69lh year 
 ol his age, and 31st of his reign. He left the Itingdom 
 of Portugal greatly augmented and improved. He had 
 repaired old cities, and founded new ones; erected 
 churches, and endowed convents. He particularly pro- 
 ved himself the friend of the poor; provided many 
 things for their advantage; and, in a time of scarcity, 
 he even pawned his crown to supply them with food. 
 He was a prince who punished severely, and rewarded 
 generously ; who acted the politician as far as was neces- 
 sary, but at other times was frank and engaging in his 
 manners; who afi'ected magnificence when his revenues 
 would permit, but observed economy when his affairs 
 required it; and who would have left behind him an un- 
 blemished reputation, had he treated his brother with 
 greater gentleness and justice. Mod. Un. Hist. vol. xxii. 
 p. 51—59. (?) 
 
 ALPHONSO, or Alonso IV. king of Portugal, sur- 
 named the Brave, succeeded his father Don Denis in 
 1524, in the 34th year of his age. While he was heir 
 apparent, he had repeatedly rebelled against his father; 
 and had conducted himself with much violence and ob- 
 stinacy. When he got possession of the crown, he 
 thought himself at liberty to act as he pleased; and 
 pursued his pleasures without controul. Hunting was 
 his favourite amusement, and he spent the greater part 
 of his lime in the forests of Cintra, while the affairs of 
 government were wholly neglected. At length, return- 
 ing to Lisbon, and entering into his council, he proceed- 
 ed, with much frankness and spirit, to give a detail of 
 his sports, during the preceding month. When he had 
 concluded his report, one of his counsellors, a person of 
 the first rank, rose up and reminded him, " that kings 
 were designed for courts and camps, not for woods and 
 deserts ; that, as they are public characters, a whole na- 
 tion suffers when they prefer recreation to business ; 
 that they were now assembled for other purposes than 
 to hear of exploits, which could be agreeable and intel- 
 ligible only to grooms and falconers ; that if he would 
 attend to the interests of his people, he would find them 
 obedient subjects, but if not" — here the prince, starting 
 with passion, exclaimed, "If not, what then ?" " If not," 
 continued the nobleman, in the same firm tone of voice, 
 " they must look for another and a better king." At 
 this Alphonso lost all patience, expressed his resentment 
 in the strongest terms, and left the council in a trans- 
 port of rage. But, after reflecting with himself, he re- 
 turned composed, and expressed himself thus: " I per- 
 ceive the truth of what you have said. He cannot long 
 have subjects who will not be a king. Remember, that 
 from this day, you have nothing more to do with Al- 
 phonso the sportsman, but with Alphonso king of Por- 
 tugal." He kept his resolution; and as he was pos- 
 sessed of good sense as well as great spirit, he gradually 
 entered into the knowledge and discharge of his regal 
 duties. He shewed respect to the memory of his father ; 
 punished the crimes of some of his former favourites ; 
 and promoted those who had most keenly opposed him. 
 But with all his good qualities, he could not overcome 
 the unreasonable aversion which he had conceived 
 against his natural brother Don Alonso Sanchez ; and 
 notwithstanding the respectful behaviour of Sanchez, he 
 persisted in treating him as a traitor, till he drove him 
 to rebellion ; but at length, by the interposition of his 
 mother Donna Isabella, he recalled his brother, and re-
 
 ALPHONSO. 
 
 543 
 
 ccived him into favour. His daughter, Donna Maria, 
 was married about this lime to Alonso XI. king of Cas- 
 tile ; but as she was treated with great indignity by that 
 prince, her lather interposed in her behalf. After long 
 altercations and reciprocal injuries, the two princes 
 came to an open rupture; and the subjects of both 
 kingdoms were exposed to the miseries of war for the 
 space of 12 years. At length a peace was concluded ; 
 and the kings of Portugal and Castile, uniting their 
 forces, carried on war with great success against the 
 Moors. Don Pedro, prince of Portugal, after the death 
 of his first wife, had privately married Donna Agnes de 
 Castro, the daughter of a Castilian gentleman, who had 
 taken refuge in the Portuguese court. Alphonso, through 
 tlie instigations of his counsellors, and his own impetu- 
 ous passions, cruelly issued orders for the murder of 
 tliis princess; and was so infatuated, as to avow and 
 vindicate the deed. His son, enraged by his barbarous 
 conduct, broke out into open rebellion ; but Alphonso, 
 who was easily made sensible of his errors, and who was 
 always earnest to repair them, brought about a submis- 
 sion on the part of the prince, and used every method in 
 his power to effect a complete reconciliation. As Al- 
 phonso advanced in years, he employed himself in va- 
 rious acts of charity and piety, in redressing grievances 
 throughout his dominions, in establishing laws for the 
 suppression of vice, and in dictating proper maxims for 
 the government of the kingdom. He laboured anxiously 
 to remove from the mind of his son, all remaining re- 
 sentment, on account of the injury which he had sus- 
 tained ; and in order to prevent any acts of revenge after 
 his death, he presented sums of money to the three 
 courtiers, who had both prompted and perpetrated the 
 bloody deed, and enjoined them to retire into Castile. 
 He died in A. D. 1357, in the 67th year of his age, and 
 32d of his reign. He has been called, with truth, " an 
 undutiful son, an imnatural brother, and a cruel father;" 
 but in other respects, he was a great man and a good 
 king ; brave and successful in war, strict in the admi- 
 nistration of justice, tender of property, attentive to the 
 public welfare, a friend to industry, and attached to his 
 subjects as his children. But though he secured their 
 respect by the use he made of his power, he could not 
 conciliate their affection to his person. See I\Iod. Uii. 
 Hist. vol. xxii. p. 70 — 84. (y) 
 
 ALPHONSO, or Alonso V. king of Portugal, sur- 
 named the African., succeeded his father king Edward 
 in 1438, when he was only six years of age. He was at 
 first under the tuition of his mother Leonora; but she 
 was removed from the regency in 1440, and Don Pedro, 
 duke of Cambra, uncle to the young prince, was cho- 
 sen in her place. The regent's administration was mild 
 but steady. He completely possessed the confidence of 
 the people, and supported the dignity of the crown of 
 Portugal with great ability. According to the will of 
 the late king, he married his daughter to Alphonso ; 
 and was very attentive to the education of that prince. 
 In 1446, he laid down his office, with the approbation 
 of the cortes or parliament; but by the malicious in- 
 sinuations of his enemies the young king was prejudiced 
 against him, ancVat length persuaded to pursue him as 
 a traitor. Don Pedro took arms in his own defence, 
 but was slain in the first encounter, together with the 
 best and bravest of the nobility, who knew his worth, 
 and supported his cause. Several of his adherents were 
 tortured and put to death ; but his innocence was soon 
 made manifest, and acknowledged by Alphonso, who 
 
 paid respect to his memory, shewed great attachment 
 to the queen his daughter, and restored his son to his 
 estates and employments. In 1456 Alphonso equipped 
 a large fleet, and prepared a numerous body of troops, 
 for a crusade against the Turks; and, upon this occa- 
 sion, it is said that the Portuguese coin cruzadoe was 
 originally struck. But this scheme having been ren- 
 dered abortive by the civil wars in Italy, and the death 
 of the pope, Alphonso turned his arms against the 
 Moors in Barbary. He made several expeditions into 
 Africa, reduced Alcazar, Arzila, Tangier, and Sequer, 
 gave signal proofs oi his piety and generosity as well 
 as of his courage ; and, on account of his exploits, was 
 distinguished by the appellation of The African. His 
 reputation was now at the greatest height, and the re- 
 mainder of his reign might have been equally happy 
 and honourable, had he not embarked in a contest with 
 Ferdinand and Isabella of Castile, respecting tlie claims 
 of his niece to the crown of that kingdom. Having 
 been very unsuccessful in his first attempts, he made a 
 journey into France, to solici'. the assistance of Louis 
 XI. ; but having been completely deceived by that mo- 
 narch, he formed a design of visiting the city of Jeru- 
 salem, and of retiring for ever from the world. He 
 wrote a letter to Portugal resignijig his crown, and di- 
 recting his son Don Juan to be proclaimed king; but 
 he was dissuaded from his purpose, and returned home 
 after an absence of about one year. The prince his son, 
 who had governed with great ability, received him with 
 every testimony of satisfaction, and resigned the sove- 
 reignty into his hands. Alphonso resumed the war with 
 Castile, and after two years hostilities, concluded a 
 peace in 1479. Weakened by a severe illness, and ren- 
 dered melancholy by the ravages of the plague in his 
 dominions, he determined to retire into a monastery ; 
 but on his way to the retreat wliich he had chosen, he 
 was seized with the plague, and died at Cintra in 1481, 
 in the 49th year of his age and 43d of his reign. This 
 prince was graceful in his person, courteous in his man- 
 ners, and much beloved by his subjects. He was boun- 
 tiful almost to an extreme, chaste and temperate in his 
 manner of life, a lover of letters, a patron of learned 
 men, and the first king of Portugal who had a library in 
 his palace. See -/l/ot/. Un. ///«;. vol. xxii. p. 141 — 168. 
 
 ALPHONSO, or Alonso HI., surnamed the Great, 
 king of Leon and Oviedo, \\as born in 849, was asso- 
 ciated in the sovereignty with his father Don OrdognO, 
 in 862, and succeeded him in 865. Immediately after 
 the death of his father, he was driven from -the throne 
 by Don Froila ; but this rebel was assassinated in the 
 palace on account of his tyranny ; and Alphonso was 
 restored amidst the acclamations even of the usurper's 
 army. After suppressing two other insurrections, he 
 turned his attention to tlie security of his dominions; 
 built fortifications on the frontiers, and adopted various 
 measures for the advantage of his subjects. While thus 
 employed, he was attacked, in 869, by two powerful 
 Moorish armies, both of which he defeated successively 
 with great slaughter, and made considerable additions 
 to his territories. He proceeded to regulate the civil 
 constitution of his kingdom; increased the privileges 
 of the people, and restrained the power of the nobles. 
 These measures occasioned several commotions ; but 
 these he speedily suppressed, and went on with his be- 
 neficial plans. After having secured the civil liberties 
 of his subjects, he took measures to provide for theiv
 
 )44 
 
 ALniONSO. 
 
 religious iusti-uction ; held an assembly of the clergy; 
 assigned tlicm revenues ; and formed many useful regu- 
 lations for the prosperity of the established church. 
 From these; peaceful employments he was again sum- 
 moned to lake the iicld against his former enemies, the 
 Moors, whom he discomtited with his usual success in 
 several engagements. Upon his return from these ex- 
 peditions, he had to contend with an unexpected and 
 uiUK\tunil rebellion. His son, Don Garcias, who liad 
 married the daughter of Nunncz Fernando, the most 
 powerlul nobleman in llie kingdom, had formed a design 
 to depose his father, and to sieze upon the crown. Al- 
 phonso, by the activity of his measures, soon suppress- 
 ed this insurrection, seized the person of his son, and 
 committed him to close confinement. About three years 
 afterwards, however, in consequence of the solicitations 
 of his queen Xenione, and the machinations of Nunnez 
 Fernando, he found himself obliged to abdicate the 
 throne, in order to prevent a civil war. He assembled 
 the states; declared his eldest son Garcias king; and 
 assigned the province of Gallicia to his other son Or- 
 dogno. The two princes prostrated themselves at the 
 feet of their father, and entreated his pardon for all that 
 had passed. During the remainder of his life, he con- 
 tinued to assist his son with his advice and service, both 
 in regulating the affairs of state, and in repelling the 
 attacks of his enemies. He frequently commanded the 
 troops in person ; and after a very successful campaign 
 against the Moors, in 9 12, he died at the age of 63, two 
 years after his abdication. He was a prince of unaffected 
 piety, and an illustrious patron of learned men. He was 
 also eminent for his own literary acquisitions ; and is 
 said to have been the author of the Chronicle, which was 
 afterwards ascribed to Sebastian, bishop of Orensa, who 
 had been his chaplain or preceptor, and at whose re- 
 quest it had been composed. See Mod. XJn. Hist. vol. 
 xix. p. 515 — 528. (f/) 
 
 ALPHONSO, or Alonso X., surnamed the Wise, 
 king of Leon and Castile, succeeded his father Ferdi- 
 nand in the year 1252. He was justly regarded, at his 
 accession, as a prince of great qualities ; and high ex- 
 pectations were formed of his government. But, by en- 
 gaging in a multitude of ambitious projects, beyond his 
 strength and resources, he soon involved himself in end- 
 less difficulties, and oppressed his subjects with intolera- 
 ble burdens. Almost at the same time, he made an at- 
 tempt upon Gascony, in opposition to Henry HI. of 
 England ; prepared an expedition, which his father had 
 meditated, against the Moors in Barbary ; advanced a 
 claim, which he derived from the right of his mother, to 
 the dutcliy of Suabia ; and even became a competitor 
 for the imperial dignity in Germany. By these, and 
 other extravagant plans, his treasury, was exhausted, 
 and his subjects filled with discontent ; frequent insur- 
 rections excited, and favourable opportunities afforded 
 to the Moors for invading his dominions. In the midst 
 of these troubles, he displayed the greatest activity and 
 presence of mind. He calmed the commotions among 
 his people by good management, and as much condescen- 
 sion and clemency as possible. And, in repelling the 
 hostile aggressions of the Moors, he proved himself to 
 be possessed both of personal courage and military skill. 
 He had long meditated, and frequently attempted a 
 journey to Italy, in order to enforce his different claims 
 in a personal interview with the pope. This plan was 
 opposed by his nobles, and was the occasion of the 
 most formidable conspiracies against his authority. In- 
 
 tent, however, upon obtaining the high title of emperor, 
 he at length left his dominions under his eldest son as 
 regent, and met the pope at Baueaire, in France. But 
 all his arguments and endeavours were unavailing ; and 
 he returned without any encouragement or success. 
 During his absence, his kingdom had been exposed 
 to new invasions, anil involved in new dissensions. On 
 his return, he found, that the prince regent was deadj 
 and that his second son, Don Sancho, was claiming a 
 right to the crown, in preference to tlie children of his 
 elder brother. The pretensions of Sancho were acknow- 
 ledged by an assembly ol the stales ; but Phihp,kingof 
 France, who was uncle to the children ot the deceased 
 prince, supported their cause, and threatened A pnonso 
 with a war. Pope John XXI. however, who was more 
 friendly to Alphonso than Ins predecessor had been, inter- 
 posed his authority ; and it was agreed, that the king- 
 dom of Murcia should be given to the Infant Don Alon- 
 so de Cerda, upon condition ot his doing homage to 
 Don Sancho, when he should be king of Castile. But 
 the states, at the instigation of Sancho, refused to ratify 
 this agreement, deposed Alphonso, and appointed San- 
 cho regent. The aged king, in the bitterness of his 
 heart, disinherited his son with the most solemn impre- 
 cations, and sought assistance against his adversaries 
 from the Moors. His party increased and prevailed ; 
 and Sancho was anxious to appease his indignation. 
 When Alphonso was informed that his son was labour- 
 ing under a dangerous distemper, and that he professed 
 contrition for his conduct, he retracted his curses, re- 
 scinded his will, and died, a short time afterwards, in 
 the 81st year of his age, in 1284. He was a prince of 
 eminent talents and extensive knowledge; but was de- 
 ficient in wisdom to distinguish, and in steadiness to pur- 
 sue the proper objects of his attention as a sovereign. 
 From this want of a directing mind, his very virtues and 
 attainments frequently became the sources of his errors. 
 His generous disposition led him into profusion ; and his 
 love of learning turned his thoughts too much from the 
 interests of his kingdom. Amidst all the troubles, 
 however, in which he was involved, he found means to 
 confer upon his subjects several permanent benefits. 
 He improved the Castilian tongue, and caused a general 
 history of Spain to be composed in that language. He 
 augmented the privileges of the university of Salamanca, 
 and corrected many errors in its original statutes. He 
 prohibited the use of Latin terms in law proceedings, 
 and directed them to be carried on in the language of 
 the country. He completed the compilation of laws 
 which his father had begun ; caused them to be ar- 
 ranged under proper heads ; and published them, for the 
 instruction of his subjects, under the title of Zas Parti- 
 das. He paid great attention to the improvement of 
 astronomy ; invited, from all parts of Europe, persons 
 well skilled in that science ; and employed them in 
 correcting the astronomical tables of Ptolemy. The 
 work which was thus completed under his direction, in 
 1251, and which occasioned him an immense expense, is 
 justly inscribed with his name, and is known by the title 
 of the .4lfihonsine Tables. He composed a variety of 
 treatises on physics and ethics, which he entitled " The 
 Treasure ;" and is said also to have written two volumes 
 on chemistry. He has been charged with the following 
 impious speech, "that if he had been consulted by the 
 Deity, he would have advised him to form the universe 
 on a better plan." This saying has generally been con- 
 sidered, at most, as only a sarcasm upon the confusion of
 
 ALP 
 
 ALP 
 
 54! 
 
 die Ptolemaic system ; but, even in this view, the ex- 
 pression is so shockingly profane, that it is nmch doubt- 
 ed, vk-hethcr it was ever uttered by tliis prince. It is 
 at least very inconsistent with another circumstance re- 
 lated ol'him ; namely, that he had carelully perused the 
 sacred Scriptures fourteen times, with various commen- 
 taries. There is as good auihority for the trutli of the 
 one anecdote as of the oiher ; and if this be admitted, it 
 must also be acknowledged, that it is not very probable, 
 that he, who showed so great regard for the divine word, 
 should indulge in such irreverent reflections on the 
 divine works. See Riccioli Almagest, t. 1. p. 444; 
 Weidler's Hist. AsCron. p. 280; and iV/orf. Un. Hist. yo\. 
 XX. p. 208 — 232. (f/) 
 
 ALPHONSO, or Alonso V., surnamed the Magnani- 
 mous, succeeded his lather Ferdinand the Just, in the 
 kingdom of Arragon, in the year 1416. In the begin- 
 ning of his reign, he was harassed by pope Benedict 
 XIII., who declared him a schismatic, and unworthy of 
 his regal dignity ; but, notwithstanding this treatment, 
 he generously permitted a supply of provisions to be 
 furnished to that Pontitt', when he was reduced to great 
 straits in the fortress of Pensacola. At the same time, 
 he discovered a conspiracy among several of his nobility 
 against his life : and with equal magnanimity, he tore 
 to pieces a paper which contained the names of the con- 
 spirators without reading it ; and contented himself 
 with saying, that he would at least force them to ac- 
 knowledge, that he had a greater regard for their lives 
 than they had for his. He went to Sardinia, and com- 
 posed the commotions w hich prevailed in that country ; 
 and then proceeded to conduct an expedition into Sicily. 
 While he was preparing, Joan, queen of Naples, solicited 
 his assistance against the pope, the duke of Anjou, and 
 the constable Sforza, promising to adopt him as her 
 son and heir, and to give him immediate possession of 
 the dutchy of Calabria. Alphonso accepted the propo- 
 sal ; sent a body of troops to her relief; raised the siege 
 of her capital ; and was immediately declared duke of 
 Calabria, and heir apparent to the throne of Naples. 
 But his successes in her service rendered her suspicious 
 of his power. She took measures to revoke her adop- 
 tion of him as her heir; and even formed a design 
 against his life. This occasioned a civil war between 
 them, in the course of which the queen was driven from 
 her capital. Alphonso, leaving his brother Don Pedro 
 as his viceroy in Naples, embarked for Arragon ; and in 
 his way, took possession of Marseilles, which belonged 
 to the duke of Anjou. His soldiers pillaged the town ; 
 but he placed a guard for the protection of the ladies, 
 who had taken refuge in the churches. They oftered 
 him in return, a valuable present out of the jewels which 
 they had saved ; but he declined accepting it ; and said, 
 that he revenged the injuries which he had received as 
 a prince, but did not come there for plunder. The duke 
 of Anjou having overrun the greater part of Naples, the 
 queen made- a second application to Alphonso for as- 
 sistance ; and he prepared for another expedition to 
 Italy. In the mean time, driven, it is said, by the too 
 well-founded jealousy of his queen, to dissipate his cares 
 in action, he made a successful attack upon the king of 
 Tunis; took and garrisoned the island of Gcrbes; and 
 retired to Sicily. In 1434, he landed in Italy, and made 
 himself master of Capua. He then besieged the for- 
 tress of Gaeta, which was held for the duke of Milan, 
 and tlie republic of Genoa. While the siege was going 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 on, the vk'omcn and children were sent out of town to 
 
 save the provisions ; and Alphonso was advised to drive 
 them back again as a sure method of reducing the garri- 
 son to surrender. But he relieved and dismissed tliem 
 with this generous speech, " that he had mucii rather 
 lose any city in his dominions than the reputation of 
 humanity." In a desperate engagement witii the Ge- 
 noese fleet, which was sent to relieve Gaeta, Alplionso 
 lost all his ships, and was himself made prisoner by llic 
 duke of Milan. By this prince he was treated with 
 much magnihcenco and respect, and soon ingratiated 
 himself so much in his favour, that the duke b* came his 
 friend and ally. He was dismissed from Milan with 
 great honours, and without ransom ; received the most 
 liberal support from his hereditary dominions ; rendered 
 himself absolute master of Naples in 1443; and resided 
 in that kingdom during the remainder of liis life. His 
 declining years were embittered by the intrigues and 
 contentions of his friends ; and he was particularly so 
 much affected by the ingratitude ol his nephew Don 
 Carlos, prince of Viana, that he fell into a fever, and 
 died in 1458, in the 43d year of his reign. He was an 
 able statesman, and the most gallant commander of his 
 age. He conducted his political transactions without 
 cunning, and his wars without cruelty. He was also a 
 distinguished patron of learning, and used to say, that 
 "an unlettered king was but a crowned ass." It was 
 another of his sayings, that " the dead," that is books, 
 " were the best counsellors of the living, because they 
 told the simple truth without fear or shame, unmoved 
 by hatred or favour." When he was at war with the 
 republic of Genoa, he happened to find a Genoese sol- 
 dier lying dead on the shore : he immediately called his 
 attendants, and humanely assisted them in burying the 
 body. When his treasurer was giving him 10,000 
 ducats, he overheard an officer saying, " I should only- 
 wish that sum, to make me happy :" " You shall be 
 happy," said the king, and commanded the money to 
 be given to him. He possessed many and great virtues ; 
 and the vices which he had, regarded his private rather 
 than his public life. An irregular intercourse with the 
 fair sex was his principal failing, and the source of 
 many of his distresses ; but he died, it is said, with 
 great marks of penitence, and was unquestionably the 
 greatest king that ever reigned in Arragon. Sec JSIod. 
 Un. Hist. vol. xxi. p. 124 — 139. (</) 
 
 ALPINIA, a genus of plants of the class Monandria 
 and order Monogynia. The name is taken from Alpini, 
 the subject of the following article. See Botany, (to) 
 
 ALPINI, Prospero, in biography, a celebrated physi- 
 cian and naturalist, was born at Marostica, a small town 
 in the states of Venice, on the 23d of November 1553. 
 At an early period, he discovered a strong inclination 
 for the military life, excited probably by the example 
 of his brother Paul ; but in consequence of the entrea- 
 ties of his mother, and his other friends, he devoted him- 
 self to letters and the profession of his father, who was 
 a physician of considerable eminence. At the Univer- 
 sity of Padua, he distinguished himself so much by his 
 talents and industry, that in 1558, only four years after 
 he commenced his studies, he was promoted to the im- 
 portant employments of depute to the rector and syndic 
 of the students, offices which, though they exposed him 
 peculiarly to the attacks of envy and prejudice, he dis- 
 charged with a moderation and prudence, which equally 
 attracted the esteem of the professors and scholars 
 3 Z
 
 54.G 
 
 ALP 
 
 ALt» 
 
 After obtaiuinss v/ith mutli applause, the degrees of 
 doctor in mediciue and pliilosopiiy, lie settled for a short 
 piriod as physician in u town caLed Canipo San Pietro, 
 where, besides having a public salary, he found his 
 eviiolunuiits and practice daily increase. But the mind 
 ot Alpini was not to be contented with su obscure and 
 coiiliiied a sphere. He resolved to sacrifice all these 
 adv.iutagos, and, like his master Galen, to encounter 
 evjry iaeoiivenience, in travellint!; to gratify his ardent 
 curiosity, and pariicularly his thirst for iiifonnation on 
 3Ul)jects coniiceted with his protession. Fortune was 
 not long in granting him an opportunity of accomplish- 
 ing his wishes. Through the interest of his father, 
 A.pini was chosen physician to George Emo, the Vene- 
 tian consul for Egypt, and sailed from Venice for that 
 country on the 12th September 1580. The voyage 
 proved to be long and dangerous ; but this misfortune 
 •was not unfavourable to Alpini's views, as it obliged 
 the vessel to take shelter for some time in a port of 
 .Greece, and gave him an opportunity of examining 
 with attention many of the natural productions, and 
 other remarkable objects in that country. He spent 
 three entire years in Egypt, traversed it in every direc- 
 tion and experienced every hardship and difficulty in 
 prosecuting his researches. His favourite object seems 
 to have been to obtain a complete knowledge of the in- 
 digenous plants of Egypt and Arabia employed in medi- 
 cine, particularly of the celebrated balm of Gilead ; an 
 ample account of which, in the form of a dialogue, forms 
 a complete volume of his works. He also examined 
 with much attention the peculiar practice of the Egyp- 
 tians in medicine and surgery, and by his example and 
 writings recommended it in a variety of operations to 
 the physicians of Europe. Indeed, no information of an 
 interesting or useful kind, connected with the various 
 branches of natural history, escaped his persevering in- 
 quiries ; and though he complains frequently of his cu- 
 riosity having been baffied by the ignorance and preju- 
 dices of individuals whom he consulted, the books which 
 he composed, even while in Egypt, afford ample evidence 
 of the success of his labours. It would be improper to 
 omit noticing, that Alpini ascertained the remarkable 
 fact of the male palm, or date, being cmploved by the 
 natives of the East in a peculiar manner to promote the 
 fructification of the female ; a fact which was first an- 
 nounced by Thcophrastus, but till the time of Alpini had 
 been disregarded, and which, having been confirmed by 
 the observations of succeeding naturalists, is now em- 
 ployed as one of the most striking arguments in favour 
 of the sexual system oi'LinnKUs. 
 
 After returning from Egypt in 1586, Alpini became 
 physician to Andrew Doria, prince of iVL Ifi, and general 
 of the Spanish army; his reputation now rapidly extend- 
 ed, and soon eclipsed that of all his medical contempo- 
 raries. The states of Venice, unwilling to be any longer 
 deprived of so splendid an ornament to his country, in- 
 vited him home from Gcnon; ^nd in 1593, he was ap- 
 pointed to the professorship f iiotanyinthe university 
 of Padua, with a salary of 200 florins, which, in the course 
 of a few years, was raised to 650, from the high sense 
 which vTas entertained of his merit. 
 
 During the last part of his life, Alpini was afflicted 
 with a complication of disorders, the consequence chiefly 
 of the incessant labour to which, in the course of his 
 travels and researches, he had been subjected. At a 
 still later period, he was seized with almost a total deaf- 
 ness ; and it is perhaps worth mentioning, that this se- 
 
 vere calamity induced him to write a medical treatise 
 on the subject, wliicli he contended no piiysician liad 
 hitherto duiy considered. Wiien Alpini iiad made 
 some progress in liiis work, a slow fever terminated hia 
 labours on the 5th Febiuary 1617, in the 64th year of 
 his age. 
 
 Tne chief works published by Alpini arc 1. De Me- 
 dicina Kt;i)fiiirjruin, lib. iv. Venet. 1591, 4to. 2. De 
 Plantin J.gtjliti, Venet. 1591. 3. De iialsatno, Ycntl. 
 1591. 4. De /in sugi' nda xiita el morte ici^roiariiium, lib. 
 vii. Venet. 1601. 5. De Medieina Meiliudlca., lib. xiii. 
 Patav. 1611. 6. De Hhapunlicj^ dUlnil. Inuug. Patav. 
 1612. 7. De Planlis A' ; o/'/u'v, lib. ii. Venet. 1627. 8. 
 Historic Egyfiti naiuralis, pars Prima. Lugdun, Batav. 
 1735. 
 
 His works in manuscript are, 1. Prxlectionea in Gym- 
 MC*. Patav. 2. De Surditate. 3. De Medieina I\gxjfitio- 
 rum, libtr 5lus. 4. Historix Mgyjiti naturatia, Jiars se- 
 en nda. (<r) 
 
 ALPS, a celebrated chain of mountains, extending 
 from the gulf of Genoa in a kind ol semicircular form 
 through Swisserland, and terminating on trie north of 
 the Adriatic, occupying a space of near 600 miles. 
 
 Much labour and ingenuity, as usual, have been em- 
 ployed in tracing tlie origin of the name. Some regard 
 it as a corruption of the Latin a/bua, a conjecture evi- 
 dently suggested by the white appearance ol their sum- 
 mits ; others have had recourse to a fabulous origin, de- 
 riving the name from Albion, the son ot Neptune, whom 
 Hercules slew for attempting to oppose his passage over 
 these mountains ; while a third parly, with greater plau- 
 sibility, trace it to a Celtic word, signifying, /u^/rf/i/^'/z/y 
 elevated, or mountains abounding in/iasnire. 
 
 Whether we consider their vast extent and elevation, 
 the rich treasures of mineral productions, and geological 
 science, contained in their bowels, or the vvonderlui and 
 sublime scenery presented on every part of their sur- 
 face ; the Alps undoubtedly claim a peculiar share of 
 attention. Yet, it is important to remark, that this field, 
 so rich in physical facts and interesting discovery, has, 
 till of late years, been left wholly uncultivated. The 
 Alps were long regarded as a blank in the creation, as 
 a display merely of magnificent power, or as insur- 
 mountable barriers, calculated chiefly to exhibit heroic 
 courage and perseverance, and known only by the ex- 
 ploits of a Hercules, or a Hannibal. Saussure and Bour- 
 rit arc the first who can, with anv propriety, be said to 
 have examined these mountains witli a philosophical 
 eye. On the former, indeed, we must rely entirely for 
 our information respecting their structure and compo- 
 sition ; and must therefore regret, that he has confined 
 his labours chiefly to the French and Italian Alps. 
 Much, however, has been done by him in the way of ex- 
 ample and encouragement to others; and it is to be hoped, 
 that ere long some person more intimately acquainted 
 with the language of mineralogy, and possessed of his 
 ardour and perseverance, will not only retrace his steps, 
 but put us also in possession of the geological facts, 
 which the remaining portions of the Alps promise to fur- 
 nish. 
 
 In presenting to our readers an account of the Alps, 
 we shall first consider the different portions or subdi- 
 visions of this great chain of mountains, pointing out 
 the relative situation and geographical position of each 
 part ; we shall next attempt to describe some of the 
 more interesting and remarkable phenomena exhibited 
 on the difTerent parts of their surface ; and lastly, we
 
 ALPS. 
 
 347 
 
 iihall offer some general observations, and detail what 
 inlormation we have been able to collect respecting the 
 coniposi.ion, structure, and attitude ol' the most distin- 
 guisiicd mountahis iu each subdivision. The Alps have 
 in ancient and modern times been divided into the fol- 
 lownig chains or subdivisions, viz. the Maritime, the 
 Cottian, the Grascian, tlie Helvetian, the Pennine, the 
 Rhactian, the Carmic, and Julian Alps. 
 
 It is diflicult to delermnie with accuracy where the 
 Maritime Alps commence, because the Alpine chain 
 runs insensibly into that oi the Apennines. They are 
 commonly represented as rising irom the sea to tue 
 West of ^neglia; and, alter proceeding tor some time 
 in a north-west direction, turning to the north, and ter- 
 minatuig in Mount Viso, between Dauphiny and Pied- 
 mont. Saussure, however, describes under the name of 
 Maritime Alps, the whole of that chain of mountains 
 which runs along the coast of the Mediterranean from 
 Nice to Genoa. He tells us, that the Alps, as they ap- 
 proach the sea, gradually diminish in height; and, at 
 Nice, divide into two branches, the one proceeding 
 westward through Provence, and the other following the 
 coast of Genoa, and losing itself in the Apennines. 
 Saussure, vol. v. p. 519. 
 
 To the Maritime Alps succeed the Cottian, i^AI/ics 
 Cottite, or Cottianie,') following nearly the same direc- 
 tion, and extending from Mount Viso to Mount Cenis. 
 This chain, in modern times, is sometimes known by 
 the appellation of Mont Genevre. It is said to have ob- 
 tained the name of Cottian from Cottius, a petty prince 
 in that country, who, by paying court to Augustus, was 
 allowed to retain his territory, with the title of prsefect 
 of the provinces situated in this part of the Alps. This 
 territory, however, was added in the time of Nero to the 
 general mass of the Roman empire. 
 
 The Gr^ecian Alps [Al/ies G'racif) continue to follow a 
 northerly direction, forming an irregular chain of moun- 
 tains, between Mount Cenis, and the Great St Bernard, 
 having Savoy and the Tarentaise to the west, and Pied- 
 mont, with the dutchy of Aosta, to the east. It is now 
 usually called the Little St Bernard. Its ancient name, 
 according to Pliny, was derived from Hercules, who, 
 with his Grecian followers, traversed this chain of the 
 Alps in his way home from Spain. [P/iny, lib. iii. p. 67.) 
 Livy, however, rejects this story as fabulous. But 
 whatever may be the origin of the name, it is certain, 
 that at the time when the Romans invaded Gaul, this 
 portion of the Alps was distinguished by the name of 
 Gra'tx; and that the people who inhabited the country to 
 llie west, were called Ccntrones,\\\a\c those on the north- 
 cast of this chain took the name of Sa/asse.i, or fia/assi. 
 The Alps now assume a new direction, running from 
 south-west to north-cast, and are divided into two great 
 ridges, usually called the Helvetian and Pennine chains ; 
 the former constituting the boundary of the Vallais 
 on the north, the other separating it from Italy on 
 the south. Both these ridges consist of a number of 
 mountains, which have received distinct appellations. 
 The northern chain, which commences at Mount Sa- 
 netz, and terminates in St Gothard, presi nts the follow- 
 ing conspicuous summits: viz. the Blumlis-alp, the 
 Geishorn, the Genimi, the Tungfrau, or Virgin horn, 
 the interior and exterior Eiger, the Schreckhorn, or 
 Peak of Terror, the Grimsel, the Furca, and the St 
 Gothard, to which we may add the Badur on the north- 
 east of St Gothard, and the Glaciers to the north of the 
 further Rhine. 
 
 The Pennine Alps begin with some eminences on the 
 West of Mont Blanc, and extend eastw ard to the great 
 StGothaid, where they join the Helvetian chain. This 
 southern branch comprehends the following lofty moun- 
 tains, viz. Mont Blanc, Great St Bernard, Mont Maudit, 
 Combin, Cervin, and Mont Rosa. From an incidental 
 resemblance between the words Preniand Pennini, some 
 have been kd to conjecture, that Hannibal passed this 
 part of the Alps, and gave to this lofty chain the name 
 of Pennini, in honour of his followers. This supposi- 
 tion, however, is inconsistent with the common opinion 
 of historians, and is rendered quite unnecessary, when 
 we reflect that the word /ic/i in the Celtic language sig- 
 nifies a /n-ad, or elevated summit, a more obvious and sim- 
 ple method of accounting for the origin of the name. 
 The eastern part of this chain, comprehending the 
 mountains from Mont Rosa to St Gothard, is sometimes 
 denominated tiie Lcponiine Alps, from the name of a 
 people wiio inhabited the country near the sources of 
 the Rhone and the Tesino. 
 
 Alter the union of the two great central chains near 
 Adula or St Gothard, the Alps proceed in an easterly 
 direction through the south part of the country of the 
 Grisons, assuming the general name of Rhsetian Alps. 
 The same appellation is usually given to the mountains 
 of the Tyrol, and that part of the chain which bounded 
 the ancient Venetian territory on the north, though some 
 choose to distinguish them by the names of Tridentine 
 and Noric Alps. 
 
 To the RliEetian succeed the Carmic and Julian Alps, 
 the former extending to the springs of the Save, and the 
 latter to the source of the Kulpe. This part of the 
 Alps is sometimes called Atprs Venete and Alp.ee Pan- 
 nonka. 
 
 Here the great Alpine chain terminates, after having 
 traversed a space of nearly 600 miles. Some authors 
 are disposed to lengthen the chain considerably at both 
 extremities, by connecting the Julian Alps with the 
 mountains of Dalmatia, Macedonia, and Thrace ; and by 
 tracing the western branch of the Maritime Alps through 
 the south of France, till it terminates in the Pyrenees. 
 As we are unqualified to judge respecting the ex- 
 pediency of this arrangement, we shall content our- 
 selves with this short sketch of the geographical posi- 
 tion of those mountains which are commonly known by 
 the name of Alps. 
 
 After having given a general outline of this great 
 range of mountains, and pointed out the relative po- 
 sition of their diflerent subdivisions, we shall now intro- 
 duce our readers to some of the more remarkable 
 phaenomena exhibited on the different parts of their sur- 
 face. As any general description would convey but a 
 very imperfect idea of those interesting scenes, while a 
 minute detail would be inconsistent w ith the limits pre- 
 scribed to this article, we propose to select a particular 
 subdivision, and to conduct our readers, by such a route, 
 as will enable them to form some general idea of Alpine 
 scenery. We need scarcely observe, that the great cen- 
 tral chain seems the best calculated for our purpose. 
 We shall therefore follow the common route from the 
 lake of Lucerne to St Gothard, cross the Furca and 
 Grimsel, view the Helvetian chain on the north side, 
 descend into the Vallais by the pass of Gemmi, examine 
 the neighbourhood of Mont Blanc, and the Great St 
 Bernard, and finish with Mont Rosa, one of the most 
 remarkable mountains in the Pennine Alps. 
 
 Upon quitting Altdorf,a town situated at the southern 
 3 Z 2
 
 548 
 
 ALPS. 
 
 extremity of the lake Lucerne, the traveller proceeds 
 southward to bt Golhard, keeping close by the channel 
 of the Reuss. For nine miles alter leavu)g this city, he 
 passes through a well cultivated valley ot consider- 
 able breadth, bounded on the cast and west by calcareous 
 hills. AfLerwards the valley contracts, and takes the 
 name of SchxUenen. The road now winds along the 
 steep sides of the mountains, and the Reuss, confined 
 to a narrower channel, is licard at a considerable dis- 
 tance below, forcing its way through the opposing 
 rocks, now presentuig a beautiful cascade, and now sul- 
 lenly retiring to the shade of firs and pines. The 
 scenery on every side i , romantic in the highest degree. 
 On the right and left are beheld sheets of water dash- 
 ing from rock, to rock, and lurming ten or fifteen cas- 
 r.ades before they lose themselves in a forest of pines, 
 ■^vhose dark foliage forms a delightful contrast to their 
 white spray. Here are seen houses of a particular con- 
 struction, placed against the projecting rock, to shelter 
 them from the desolating fury of the avalanches, or huge 
 masses of hardened snow, which are constantly rolling 
 down from the impenduig mountains ; there rough 
 arches of stone, joining two frightful precipices, and 
 large trunks of trees thrown across the Reuss, and the 
 torrents which descend from the mountains. Hitherto 
 the country appears well peopled, and bears some marks 
 of cultivation. The sides of the hills are occasionally 
 strewed with cottages, and in the lower part of the val- 
 ley, where it accidentally widens, thriving hamlets arc 
 sometimes discovered on the banks of the river. But 
 upon leaving Wasen, a small village where the travel- 
 ler usually passes the night, the scene suddenly changes; 
 the trees become thinner at every step, the rocks are 
 bare and craggy, and no human habitation, scarce, a 
 blade of grass, is to be seen. Nothing is now found to 
 relieve the eye but the incessant dashing of the cascades 
 from the impending heights. While contemplating 
 these inferior exhibitions of wild nature, the attention of 
 the traveller is suddenly roused by the distant murmur- 
 hig of cataracts ; and upon advancing nearer, he per- 
 ceives before him an immense cloud of spray. But be- 
 fore he can discover the secret cause of all this uproar, 
 he finds himself placed on a bridge of a single arch, 
 thrown across a deep and narrow chasm, where he be- 
 holds the Reuss forcing its way with resistless fury, fal- 
 ling from rock to rock, and dragging along with it huge 
 masses of granite, which it had undermined in its 
 impetuous course. After passing this bridge, usu- 
 ally called TciifeCs Bruck, or the Devil's Bridge, the 
 traveller is unexpectedly introduced into a subterra- 
 nean gallery above 200 feet in length. This passage 
 has lately been cut through the solid rock, in order to 
 prevent the afflicting accidents which were daily occur- 
 ring on the old road, when it run along the face of the 
 precipices which overhang tlie bed of the Reuss. Here 
 all is silence and darkness, except where a ray of light 
 breaks through the opening rock, thus forming a re- 
 markable contrast to the violence and uproar of the last 
 scene. 
 
 But scarcely has the traveller time to reflect upon 
 the change of situation, when the curtain again rises, 
 presenting before him an open plain clothed with ver- 
 dure ; and the river, which was recently all foam and 
 agitation, now flowing silently in its channel, and roll- 
 ing its limpid waters through rich meadows and cul- 
 tivated fields. This valley, which takes the name of 
 Urseren, is about six leagues in length, and picturesque 
 
 in the highest degree. The lower part presents a plain 
 of an oval form, divided into small pasturages. On the 
 right and left are naked mountains thinly covered with 
 verdure. In the back ground, towards the south, ap- 
 pear the mountains of St Gothard, rising in gloomy 
 greatness. The edge of the stream is fringed with 
 bushes, among which, at considerable intervals, a tall 
 willow is seen to rise. Here and there are found scat- 
 tered cottages of wood, or a solitary shed on tfie brow 
 of the hill. On tne left is the village of Iiidremat, and in 
 the bottom of the valley, farther to the south, tltat of 
 Hopital, situated on the ridge of a rock, at the junction 
 of the little ReusS, a small stream which descends from 
 the f'urca. Near this last village, the cross roads from 
 the Vallais and Orisons join the high road to Italy by 
 the pass of St Golhard. 
 
 The traveller now turns to the left, after which, the 
 ascent of St Gothard properly begins. The path be- 
 comes steep and rugged, whiding through a narrow 
 valley, bounded on the right and left by bare mountains, 
 whose craggy summits, and projecting cliffs, threaten 
 every moment to fall, and bury the traveller in their 
 ruins. As he ascends, the valley gradually closes be- 
 fore him, leaving scarcely an opening for the road ; and 
 the channel of the Reuss, now a rapid torrent, descends 
 on his left with tumultuous uproar, darting from rock, 
 to rock, or forcing its way between huge fragments of 
 granite which occasionally interrupt its passage. The 
 whole of the valley, indeed, is strewed with these frag- 
 ments of rocks from the neighbouring heights, some of 
 which are of a remarkable size. At a particular spot, 
 says Bourrit, (tom. ii. p. 54.) where the road passes 
 over the face of a rock, by steps cut in the form of a 
 stair, an immense block of granite 80 feet in height, and 
 some thousand feet in front, is seen overhanging the bed 
 of the torrent. After about an hour's climbing, the 
 traveller perceives his horizon gradually opening, and 
 is surprised to find himself at the entrance of a circular 
 plain, three miles in diameter, surrounded on all sides 
 with lofty mountains, whose rugged tops are continually 
 covered with snow. This circular group of mountains 
 takes the general name of St Gothard, while some of 
 the more prominent of them have received distinct ap- 
 pellations, such as the Salla, Prosa, and Surechia, on 
 the east ; the Feudo, Petina, and Locendro, on the west ; 
 the Ursino on the north ; and the rocks of Val. Maggia 
 on the south. On the right, at the foot of Mount 
 Petina, one of the highest of these mountains, is situated 
 a lake of considerable extent, from which the Reuss 
 obtains its first supplies. Upon advancing farther into 
 the plain, the traveller discovers, at a small distance be- 
 fore him, the house of the Capuchin friars, situated be- 
 yond some other lakes of small extent, which furnish 
 the first streams of the Tesino. Adjoining to the house 
 of the friars is a small mn, where the traveller is some- 
 times obliged to pa-ss the night, and in the morning be- 
 gins to descend into Italy. But instead of pursuing this 
 route, we shall again descend into the delightful valley 
 of Urseren, and proceed westward by the mountains on 
 the north of the Vallais, commonly called the Helvetian 
 Alps, of which the more prominent are- the Furca, the 
 Grimsel, the Schrcck-horn, the Eiger, the Jungfrau- 
 horn, and the Gemmi. 
 
 The road to the Vallais, we have already observed, 
 leaves the vale of Urseren at the village of Hopital ; and 
 from this place proceeds in a westerly direction over 
 the south brow of the Furca. This mountain lies N.
 
 ALP8. 
 
 549 
 
 W. from St Gothard, and is the first of the great 
 Helvetian chain. It is distinguisUeil by ihe form of 
 its summit, wliich consists ot a mimbtr of rocks of a 
 forked sliapc, piled one above another ; a circumstance 
 which seems evidenlly to have suggested its name. It 
 is rendered chiefly interesting to travellers, from its 
 supporting on iis side an immense glacier, from which 
 issue the first waters of the Kaone. The road from the 
 valley of Orsereu to the top of the Furca is remarkably 
 steep and rugged, sometimes lying on the edge of a 
 dreadful precipice, sometimes passing through an angry 
 torrent, and sometimes completely buried in the ruins 
 of some neighbouring rock, which a recent avalanche 
 has dragged along with it in its fall. Nor do the diffi- 
 culties of the journey cease upon arriving at the top ; 
 the descent for a considerable way is equally rugged 
 and wild, presenting nothing to amuse the eye but bro- 
 ken rocks and craggy precipices. At last the glacier 
 of the Furca suddenly bursts upon the view of the 
 traveller towards the right, and he feels himself more 
 than recompensed for all his labours. He sees before 
 him a valley of ice, three miles in length, and one in 
 breadth, stretching in the form of an immense scaffolding, 
 between two rocks of the Furca, more rugged, if pos- 
 sible, than any of the adjoining mountains. The rays 
 of the sun cause it to glisten like crystal, and the blue 
 tints reflected from its surface appear inexpressibly 
 beautiful. A thotisand romantic shapes seem to rise 
 before the eye of the beholder. One would imagine, 
 says Bourrit, that he is viewing the streets and houses 
 of a magnificent city, built in the form of an amphithea- 
 tre, and embellished by sheets of water, cascades, and 
 torrents. While dwelling with continued delight on 
 these romantic beauties, the traveller is surprised to 
 learn that he sees before him only the least part of this 
 immense glacier. For, upon ascending a mountain to 
 the west, he beholds a new field of ice open gradually 
 to view ; and the shaggy rocks which crowned the for- 
 mer scene, now become the basis of a new glacier, 
 more extensive and more beautiful than the first. The 
 snow is of a more virgin white, the pyramids of ice 
 more bold, and the blue tints more lively and animated. 
 The traveller leaves this enchanted scene with feelings 
 of regret ; and after reaching his former station, pursues 
 the road to the Vallais, by the side of the lower glacier. 
 The descent continues steep and rugged. In a short 
 lime, however, he arrives at the lower part of the glacier, 
 where he beholds the Rhone issuing with considerable 
 noise and impetuosity from two magnificent arches of 
 ice. The streams which burst from these splendid 
 vaults, are, even at their first appearance, of considera- 
 ble magnitude ; Coxe informs us, that upon attempting 
 to cross them, on the shoulders of his guide, both of 
 them were in danger of being carried down by the 
 rapidity of the torrent. Yet they have not the honour 
 of being considered as the sources of the Rhone ; a pre- 
 eminence usually claimed by some hot springs in the 
 neighbourhood, from the circumstance of their continu- 
 ing to flow during all seasons of the year. 
 
 After leaving the glacier, the road proceeds by a nar- 
 row and steep valley, through which the Rhone des- 
 cends with dreadful impetuosity, forming a continual 
 cataract. The scenery around is dreary and desolate 
 in the highest degree, bearing a striking resemblance 
 to the valley of Sch^lenen. Not a tree, or shrub, or 
 pile of grass, is to be seen ; and it is only after having 
 travelled more than a league from the foot of the glacier, 
 
 that a few straggling willows begin to appear. The 
 hills now become more and more covered with verdure 
 and trees, and the appearance of a few cottages on the 
 opposite bank of the Rhone announces the approach of 
 the Vallais. 
 
 Having passed the night at Munster, or Obcrgestlen, 
 two villages situated in the upper extremity of the 
 Vallais, the Alpine traveller, instead of accompanying 
 the Rhone, partly retraces his steps, and begins to as- 
 cend the Grimsel on the left. The ascent of this moun- 
 tain, as usual, is steep and rugged, reciuiring about three 
 hours to reach the highest part. From the summit on 
 the southern side, the road descends for the space of 
 two miles over a ridge of rocks, and leads to a small 
 plain or hollow. In the centre of this plain is situated 
 a solitary house on the borders of a dark lake, called the 
 Lake of the Dead, from its being the common receptacle 
 ofthe dead bodies of those who die in passing these moun- 
 tains. This house is kept open for tlie accommodation 
 of travellers during nine months of the year, at the ex- 
 pense of the Canton of Berne ; and the landlord who 
 rents the pasture grounds in the neighbourhood, is 
 engaged, upon quitting his solitary mansion at the ap- 
 proach of winter, to leave behind him a quantity of 
 cheese, salted meat, and fuel, in case any unfortunate 
 wanderer should come this way after his departure. 
 
 From this place the traveller usually proceeds west- 
 ward, towards the Schreckhorn, to visit the glaciers 
 which supply the first streams of the Aar. After climb- 
 ing the rocks which shelter this dreary mansion on the 
 N. W. he comes in sight of a small plain, half covered 
 with verdure, through which the Aar is seen flowing 
 with gentle rapidity. By following the banks of the 
 stream, he arrives in a short time at the opening of a 
 large valley, running from east to west, and bounded 
 on the north and south by lofty mountains of granite. 
 After an hour's walking, close by the northern chain 
 of mountains, he comes to the foot of the glacier called 
 Lauteraar. This glacier has nothing interesting in its 
 appearance. Its surface is entirely covered with stones, 
 the wreck of the neighbouring mountains ; and the 
 Aar, instead of forming a magnificent arch like the 
 Rhone, creeps quietly from beneath an inclined plane 
 of ice, the lower edge of which almost touches the 
 groiuid. There is something dreadful, however, in the 
 appearance of the fissures through which the river is 
 sometimes seen in the abyss below, forcing its way be- 
 tween blocks of ice that occasionally interrupt its pas- 
 sage. But what renders this glacier peculiarly magni- 
 ficent, is its situation in the midst of granite mountains 
 of a prodigious height, which inclose it on all sides 
 except towards the east ; the Schreckhorn, or Peak of 
 Terror, forming an insurmountable rampart on the 
 north and north-east ; the Finsteraarhorn almost shut- 
 ting out the day on the west, and the Zinckenstorf look- 
 ing down in awful grandeur on the south. On the 
 opposite side of this last mountain lies another large 
 valley of ice, called the glacier of Oberaar, from which 
 the Aar derives part of its waters ; but it has nothing^ 
 remarkable in its appearance, being, like the former, 
 completely c6vered with the debris of the surrounding 
 summits. 
 
 As the mountains on the west of these glaciers are 
 quite impassable, the traveller, who is anxious to obtain 
 a more complete view of the Helvetian chain, must 
 return to the solitary hovel on the Grimsel, and follow 
 the Aar in its descent to the territory of Hasli, in the
 
 550 
 
 ALrs. 
 
 Canton of Berne. The scenery in the vale of the Aar 
 bears a striking resemblance to that of Schslenen, with 
 this tlifl'eicncc, that the Aar rushes clown its channel 
 with more impetuosity than the Reuss, and is frequently 
 so swelled witii toncnls as to ravage all the adjacent 
 country. According to Bourrit, this valley presents 
 scenes more interesting and varied than any other pas- 
 sage of the Alps. " yt tout moment " says this author, 
 " Ics Rituat'tons chant;ent ; tantot CAar /lasse sur la tete 
 du voijaiftur, tantot il la voil bicn au-dfssous de scs Jiicds; 
 on contemplc ten cascades iju'elle forme, cellc dcs torrens 
 qu'on vjil s'l/ /irecijiiter du haut dc sommets,lca conlrastes 
 de I'obscurite d'un val/oji tortcux avcc la btanclieur de 
 ses caux f'juettees fiar la force de letir c/i&tes, le cou- 
 rant d'air qu'elles excitent, les blocs immenaes de rocs 
 yu'elles roulent et entassent le lo7ig de la gorge, des 
 ftonts liardis et scabreux qit'il faut /lasscr /ilusieurs fois, 
 de dessjis lesijucls le Jiassager voit a I'un dc ses coles la 
 riviere firesqric le toucher, tandis que de I'autre U a de 
 la jieine a la siiivre des yeicx dans ses gouffres firofonds. 
 Au ?mlieu de ce fracas, on admire la magnificence des 
 rochers, leiirs eclatantes couleurs, leurs fractures Jiitto- 
 resc/nes, leurs excavations, leurs som/ncts dec/iires, et les 
 lambeaux de neige el de glace qui les chamarrent ; eitfn 
 les yeitx se re/wsnit avec /duisir sur une agreable et riantc 
 firarie, sur des montugnes boisers qu'on a ccsse de voir 
 de/iuis long terns, et sur les ric/tesses d'un /lays de pdtu- 
 rages et de c/iam/is." 
 
 Upon arriving at Meyringen, the chief village in the 
 Vale of Hash, the traveller now proceeds southwards 
 to visit the glaciers of Grindclwakl and Lauterbrun- 
 nen, and to obtain a nearer view of the great Helvetian 
 chain. From Meyringen the nearest road to Grindel- 
 wald is by crossing the Sheidcc, a mountain covered 
 with a fine forest of beeches, poplars, mountain-ash, 
 and pines, and situated at the foot of the Wetterhorn, 
 beyond which, farther to the south, towers the Schreck- 
 horn, or Peak of Terror. The usual route, however, 
 to the glaciers of Lautcrbrunnen and Grindclwakl, is 
 from Innerlachcn, a small village between Lake Thun 
 and Bricntz, where the Lutchinen enters the Aar. From 
 this place, which is properly the vestibule of the Hel- 
 vetian Alps, there runs towards the south a narrow 
 \ alley, which the river Lutchinen seems to have scooped 
 out across a range of mountains which forms the fore- 
 ground of the great granitical chain. After about two 
 hours' walking through this romantic defile, the road 
 opens into two vallies of considerable extent, both of 
 which have their farther extremity closed by a lofty 
 mountain. The valley on the right leads to Lautcr- 
 brunnen, and is terminated by the lofty Jungfrau-horn, 
 or Virgin Horn ; while that on the left conducts to 
 Grindelwald, having the Mettenberg at its farther ex- 
 tremity. Grindelwald is a beautiful village, consisting 
 of a number of cottages, scattered over the plain, and 
 upon the rising hills, froin which are seen extensive 
 rallies of ice stretching along the steep sides of the 
 mountains, and beautifully skirted with wood. Those 
 vallies arc called the Superior and Inferior Glaciers of 
 Grindelwald, and are separated from one another by 
 the Mettenberg mountain, which constitutes the base 
 of the Schreckhorn. The former lies between the Wet- 
 terhorn and Mettenberg ; the latter between the Met- 
 tenberg and Eigerhorn. 
 
 The village of Lautcrbrunnen, like that of Grindel- 
 wald, consists of a number of cottages scattered through 
 ihe valley and accessible parts of the hills. Near the 
 
 village is the celebrated fall of the Staubach, where u 
 torrent is seen falling perpendicularly Irom a height ol 
 above 900 leet. The greater part of the watei- falls 
 clear of the overhanging niountiun, and is resolved into 
 fine spray before it reaches tne ground ; while the 
 remaining part, dashing against a projection of llm 
 rock, flies off with great violence. 
 
 For a more particular account of the interesting sce- 
 nery presented in the vallies of Grindelwald and Lau- 
 tcrbrunnen, we must refer our readers to Bourrit's 
 Description des Glaciers, torn. ii. 
 
 After admiring tlie fall of the Staubach, some travel- 
 lers proceed to the extremity of the vale of Lautcr- 
 brunnen, ascend the glaciers which stretch at tiie feet 
 of the Brciinorn and Grossliorn, and pass the moun- 
 tains to Kandersteig ; but as this road is practicable 
 only to foot passengers, the usual route is to return by 
 the valley of Lautcrbrunnen to Innerlachen, then to 
 proceed westward to the village ol Eschi, and from 
 thence to ascend the Kander to Kandersteig. " In the 
 valley of Kander, says Coxe, the rudeness and height 
 of the mountains, which almost inclose it, conirastctl 
 with the beauty and fruitfulness of the plains fertilized 
 by a lively torrent, form a thousand picturesque scenes, 
 ever changing, and impossible to be described: it is 
 still further embellished by the number of ruined cas- 
 tles perched upon points seemingly inaccessible." After 
 about an hour's ascent from this place, the traveller 
 enters into a waving plain, in which he observes a few 
 huts and several herds of cattle. Soon after, he dis- 
 covers the barren rocks of the Gemini, inclosing the 
 lake of Daubensee ; and from the southern ridge of 
 these mountains enjoys a most extensive prospect of the 
 fertile country of the Vallais, with the rugged Aips of 
 Savoy. Upon arriving at the edge of the precipice 
 which overlooks the Vallais, the traveller is surprised 
 to learn, that he must descend by the face of these rocks 
 before he can reach that delightful valley. The road 
 is about nine feet broad ; in some parts for a conside- 
 rable space, it is a hollow way, open only at one side, 
 the rock above projecting over it. The effect is pecu- 
 liarly singular; for as the path winds continually, the 
 scene also continually changes ; so that at one moment 
 the traveller commands an extensive view, and the next 
 is inclosed with barren rocks. The descent from the top 
 to the Baths of Leuk is about two leagues ; from which 
 place the traveller proceeds along the right bank of the 
 Rhone to Sion, the chief town in the Vallais. 
 
 Before we attempt to sketch the general features of 
 the great southern chain, we shall take a retrospec- 
 tive view of the mountains we have passed, and offer 
 some remarks upon their structure, composition, and 
 height. 
 
 On the north of Aldtorf, where our route commenced, 
 grey wacke is frequently found. In the neighbourhood 
 of Aldtorf, the grey wacke is succeeded by transition 
 limestone. As we ascend the valley of the Reuss, this 
 transition limestone is found resting upon primitive 
 rock, which in some places is mica slate, in others 
 gneiss ; and still higher up, we meet with that particu- 
 lar variety of granite, named by Saussure veined, or 
 more properly slaty granite. The strata of the gra- 
 nite are nearly vertical, dipping a little to the N. E. 
 Saussure, however, remarks, that at a particular place 
 between Schaelencn and the Devil's Bridge, the strata 
 seem to be horizontal. This appearance, he conceives, 
 may arise from fissures perpendicular to the plains «ii
 
 ALPS. 
 
 551 
 
 the strata : for at a little distance the vertical strata 
 again ri-cur. (6'na4«. toin. vii. p. 81. At panicular places 
 tliin strata ol clay slate, having a sliming lusUc, and 
 consequently ol tiic oltles, ItiiTiiation, are seen resting 
 on granite. The rock, tnrough wluch the suotirrunean 
 gal. cry is cut, and tiiuse that overhang tiie Rcuss at 
 the Devil's Bridge, consist ol slraufied granae, with 
 the strata almost vertical, or dipping lo tlie N. E. AUer 
 p.'.ssing tlirough the Unuer-loch, iiie granite rock gra- 
 dually passes into gneiss, mica slate, and clay slate, 
 having hssures perpendicular to the plains ol' their stra- 
 ta, (torn. vii. p. 68.) In the valley oi Urseren, near the 
 bed of the river, are found what Saussure calls /ticrrcn 
 argilLuses. The hills on the right ol this valley are 
 composed oi grey limestone to a considerable height, 
 after Which appear mica slate. On the left of the river, 
 potstone is touiid reaching nearly to the same height 
 as the limestone on the opposite side, {^Sauss. tom. vii. 
 p. 65.) In the valley wnich forms the ascent to St. 
 Gothard, Saussure observed the strata to have the 
 usual direction, viz. from N. E. to S. W., and composed 
 principally ot slaty granite. Upon arriving at the plain 
 on the top of St Gothard, he lound great-grained gra- 
 nite, (iiauss. tom vii. p. 60.) From examining the de- 
 bris of the rocks which cover the plain of St Gothard, 
 we are led to suppose, that the surrounding summits 
 consist chiefly of granite. In order to verify tliis con- 
 jecture, Saussure ascended two of the highest moun- 
 tains, viz. the Prosa and Feiido, and found them both 
 to consist of massive granite. It is of importance to 
 remark, that a granite of the newer formation has been 
 found by Humboldt, near the Hosfiice de Si Gothard. 
 
 The Furca, as far as we know, has not been accu- 
 rately examined by any on whose opinion we can rely. 
 If we may judge of the composition of that mountain, 
 from the broken masses found near the glacier of the 
 Rhone, it seems composed chiefly of granite and gneiss. 
 
 Tiie soutli side of the Grimsel consists of gneiss of 
 a reddish colour, of which the strata are nearly verti- 
 cal, or dipping as usual N. E. After descending for 
 about a quarter of an hour, the strata become more 
 horizontal ; and, in general, they seem to incline towards 
 the Vallais, or the exterior of the mountain. These stra- 
 ta of gneiss are sometimes found covered by mica slate, 
 and towards the bottom of the mountain clay slate also 
 occasionally appears, v.ith the strata in the same direc- 
 tion as the gneiss. 
 
 On the north and south of the valley, leading to the 
 glacier of Lauteraar, the mountains arc composed of 
 granite. A thick fog, which rested for some days upon 
 the tremendous summits of the Schreckhorn and Fins- 
 teraar, prevented Saussure from examining these moun- 
 tains ; but he inferred from the debris which covers the 
 glacier, that they are composed of massive granite, 
 veined granite, and sienite. Here also he found a par- 
 ticular stone, which he calls byssolUe. At the foot of 
 the Ziuchenstorf, which forms the boundary between 
 the two glaciers, he met thin strata, of a soft greyish 
 rock, mixed with quartz, mica, and hornblende. The 
 strata were nearly vertical, running from N. E. to S. 
 \V. and kaning a little to the body of the mountain. On 
 the top of this mountain he found granite, having its 
 strata parallel to those in the valley of Lauteraar. The 
 mountains to the south of the glacier of Oberaar, are 
 composed of a schistose rock in a state of decomposi- 
 tion. (Satiss. tom. vi. p. 270.) 
 
 From the house on the Grimsel to the village of Gut- 
 
 tannen, nothing is seen but granite rocks, at one time 
 slraiifica, a..ci at anoi,.er hi tables. Near Guttannen, the 
 granite disappears, ana is succeeded by gneiss, which 
 (A iitiiiues lor some time, and is in its turn covered by 
 limestone, through which, at some particular places, is 
 discovered a brown micaceous rock mixed wiili feldspar. 
 (■\auss. tom. vi. p. 287.) Tiie Aar has lormed to ilscli a 
 channel through these rocks, and presents on the oppo- 
 site banks the same inclination ol the strata. TIksc 
 limestone hills also bound the valley of Aieyringcn on 
 the east. 
 
 For any information we have been able to collect rc- 
 speciing the remaining mountanis ol the great Helvetian 
 chain, we are chietly indebted to the letter ot the rev. 
 Mr VVyticiibach to Coxe, to which we must refer our 
 readers for particular details. From this author we 
 learn, that in the neighbourhood of Berne, hills begin to 
 arise, which continue increasing in height, till they ter- 
 minate in tlie elevated and almost inaccessible peaks, 
 which constitute the northern chain of ihe Alps. These 
 hills, which form the foreground of the great central 
 chain, are composed of limestone, standing on a base of 
 clay slate ; and are often found at such great heights as 
 almost to conceal the primitive bed of granite. Hence, 
 in ascendhig the valley of Lauterbrunnen, we find cal- 
 careous rocks even to its farther extremity ; and in the 
 valley of Grindelwaid nothing appears but clay slate and 
 limestone. The external parts of the Eiger, Mettenberg, 
 and Wetterhorn, are also chiefly calcareous. Some- 
 times a red stratum, seemingly composed of clay slate, 
 and a fine-grained iron ore, forms a separation between 
 the granite and the calcareous rocks. All the mountains 
 which compose the Helvetian chain, discover granite on 
 their summits, except Mount Gemmi, where nothing is 
 found but limestone and clay slate. This limestone, 
 which forms so striking a feature in the Helvetian 
 mountains, and which extends onwards through the Ty- 
 rol, Salzberg, Austria, and Styria, to the frontiers of 
 Hungary, appears to belong to thc^frs^ ,/^'E'- limestrjiic 
 of Werner, the Alfiine limestone of Karsten. In several 
 places it is observed resting on the transition rocks 
 that skirt the Helvetian range, and which have now 
 been traced onwards to the Tyrol, Saltzbtrg, &c. We 
 shall conclude this short sketch of the Helvetian Alps, 
 by presenting a table of the heights of the principal 
 mountains, 
 
 Jl Table of the Height of the Princi/ial Mountains in the 
 Helvetian ylljis, according to Saussure and Professor 
 Tralles. 
 
 Saussure Barometrically. 
 
 Above the level of the sea. 
 Eng-. Feet. 
 
 Plain of St Gothard 6816 
 
 Feudo, a mountain of St. Gothard . . . 8819 
 Prosa, a mountain of St Gothard . . . . 8816 
 
 House on the Grimsel 6003 
 
 Highest part of the pass of the Grimsel to- 
 wards the Vallais 7155 
 
 Tralles Geometrically. 
 
 Eng. Feet. 
 
 Jungfrauhorn 13759 
 
 Sciireckhorn 13 3ii7 
 
 Finsteraarhorn 14,116 
 
 Wetterhorn 12,217 
 
 Eiger 13,086
 
 552 
 
 ALPS. 
 
 Wc shall now resume our route to the southern chain, 
 or Pennuic Alps. I'roni Sion, the Iruvcllcr continues 
 his journey on the bunks of the Rlione to Murligny, sup- 
 posed to be the ancient Octodurum, now a vilkige .i.ua- 
 tcd in a small plain, encircled by high mounlains, and 
 divided by the river Drance. Here liic road to Mont 
 Blanc turns to the left ; but before pursuing this route, 
 it is usual to make a short excursion to St Maurice, 
 situated in the lower extremity of the Vallais. Trom 
 Marligny, the Helvetian and Pennine chains begui to 
 approach one another, and almost close at St Maurice, 
 leaving scarce a passage for the Rhone. The road to 
 St Maurice is peculiarly romantic, running under a 
 «;hain of rocks, and presenting, on the right, the Rhone 
 •winding through the middle of a fertile vale. On the 
 left, about half way, the Tricnt, a turbid torrent, is seen 
 issuing from a narrow and obscure glen ; and soon after, 
 the Salienche, bursting from a cleft in the middle of a 
 rock, through hanging shrubs, forming the much cele- 
 brated cascade of the Pisse Vaclie. In a little time the 
 bridge ot St Maurice begins to appear, with the villages 
 built upon the rock at the foot ol some steep mountains. 
 This bridge consists of a single arch, whose span 
 measures 130 feet. St Maurice is chiefly distinguished 
 as being the entrance from the Canton of Berne into the 
 Vallais. 
 
 The traveller now returns to Martigny, and pursues 
 Ills journey to Mont Blanc. The road from this place to 
 Trient is carried over a gentle acclivity, through the 
 middle of a tliick forest. From Trient, the shortest way 
 to Chamouni isb) the passage usually called the Col de 
 Balme ; but owing to the steepness of the ascent, which 
 renders it peculiarly dangerous before the melting of the 
 snows, travellers sometimes prefer the more circuitous 
 route by the Tete Noire, a dark and rugged path, pas- 
 sing through forests of firs and pines, and over the edge 
 of black rocks. To those, however, who are wil.ing to 
 encounter the different hazards of the other passage, the 
 top of the Col de Balme presents one of the most exten- 
 sive and sublime views in Swisserland. On the north is 
 seen the Vallais, with its numerous towns and villages, 
 now appearing like small country seats scattered along 
 tJie banks of the Rhone ; beyond which, rise the moun- 
 tains of Berne, piercing the clouds witli their snowy 
 summits. On the east, are discovered the Alps of St 
 Bernard, with a tempestuous sea of mountains inter- 
 vening ; and in the south, Mont Blanc, rising majestically 
 amidst the surrounding heights. Nor is the scene, which 
 lies more immediately under the eye, less interesting 
 and sublime. Numberless rocks are seen on all sides 
 boldly rising above the clouds, some of whose tops are 
 bare, others covered with snow ; many of these peaks 
 gradually diminishing towards their summits, end in 
 sharp points called A'cedles. Between these rocks, val- 
 lies of ice are seen on all sides, often stretching several 
 leagues in length, and uniting at the foot of Mont 
 Blanc. 
 
 From the Col de Balme the road begins to descend, 
 winding gently along the banks of the Arve, and opens 
 into the rich and cultivated vale of Chamouni. Nothing can 
 exceed the astonishment of the traveller upon seeing, 
 for the first time, this romantic vale, surrounded on 
 every side by lofty mountains, and presenting atone view 
 all the Iieauty and luxuriance of a southern climate, inti- 
 mately blended with the horrors and devastation of an 
 arctic winter. For a particular description of this en- 
 
 charting scene, we must refer our readers to the workb 
 of Sauh.sure and Bourrit. Tiie iravehei', who proposes to 
 spend some tune amidst these Alpine regions, usually 
 selects lor his place of residence, the priory, situated in 
 the middle ol tliis valley, whence lie makes daily excur- 
 sions to the more remarkable scenes in the neighbour- 
 hood. Ol these excursions, by far the most difficult and 
 perilous is the ascent ol Mont Blanc This was long 
 considered as impracticable; an opinion which seemed 
 justified by the repeated failure of the attempts of tnose 
 who engaged in this enterprise; among whom we must 
 reckon Suussure and Bourrit. The difficulty arose not 
 so much irom tlic nature ol the ascent, as from the dis- 
 tance ol the journey, which it was necessary to accom- 
 plish in one day ; ihere being no intermediate stage, 
 where the traveller might pass the night, between the 
 priory and the sununit ot the mountain. This difficult 
 enterprise, however, was at last happily effected by one 
 James Balnia, a guide ot Chamouni. Since that time 
 Mont Blanc has been repeatedly scaled ; and, among 
 others, by the celebrated Saussure, to whose interest- 
 ing narrative of this event we must refer our readers for 
 farthcr'particulars. I^Hauss. tom. 7.) 
 
 After Mont Blanc, the next most interesting excur- 
 sion js to the glaciers on the east of Chamouni. Of 
 these, the glacier ol Bois usually attracts the first notice 
 of the traveller, both on account of its being easily ap- 
 proached, and because it presents a complete general 
 outline of these wild and magnificent scenes. From the 
 priory the traveller begins to ascend Montanvert, a 
 beautifully wooded mountain, forming the eastern boun- 
 dary of Chamouni. The road at first passes obliquely 
 over the lower part of the valley, winding gently through 
 meadows, and well cultivated fields. It soon after enters 
 into a thick forest of buxh and fir, and becomes gradually 
 more steep and rugged. During the whole of the as- 
 cent, however, the traveller never loses sight of the 
 valley below him, watered through its whole extent by 
 the river Arve, and adorned with a crowd of villages and 
 hamlets, delightfully situated amidst trees and cultivated 
 fields. Upon reaching the top of Montanvert, the scene 
 suddenly changes : instead of a fertile and smiling val- 
 ley, the traveller now finds himself placed on the edge 
 of a precipice, looking down upon a valley of greater ex- 
 tent than Chamouni ; completely filled with snow and 
 ice, and surrounded by colossal mountains of tremendous 
 aspect. The surface of the ice, when seen from Mon- 
 tanvert, appears broken into irregular ridges and deep 
 chasms, presenting an image of waves instantaneously 
 frozen in the midst of a violent storm ; but upon reach- 
 ing the edge of the glacier, these waves assume the ap- 
 pearance of mountains, and the intervals between them 
 become vallies of considerable magnitude. The chasms 
 and fissures on the surface now increase in size and 
 depth, and seem to forbid all attempts to cross the ice. 
 Few, however, rest satisfied with this distant view. This 
 glacier has been traversed throughout its whole extent 
 by a number of travellers, who all agree in stating, that 
 it is only by advancing a considerable way upon its sur- 
 face, we can form any adequate idea of this very singu- 
 lar scene. For an account of the difficulties, and dan- 
 gers, and surprising incidents connected with an excur- 
 sion of this nature, we must refer our readers to the 
 authors whom we have frequently quoted. 
 
 The glacier of Bois communicates with several others, 
 viz. the glacier of Tacu, which stretches towards Mont
 
 ALPS. 
 
 55: 
 
 Blanc, behind the pointed rocks on the S. E. of Montan- 
 vert, called Aiguilles clcs C/iarmos ; and the glaciers of 
 L'Echaul and Talcfrc, running towards the east, near 
 which rises the Couvercle, a rock of a singular appear- 
 ance, from the top of which, the traveller obtauis a com- 
 plete view of the whole of this magnificent scene. 
 
 He now returns to the priory by the same difficult and 
 dangerous route ; traversing anew the whole extent of 
 the glacier of Bois, near the lower extremity of which 
 the river Arveiron is seen issuing, like the Rhone, from 
 an unmense vault of ice, above 100 feet in height. 
 
 After ascending some of the adjoining summits, such 
 as Mont Breven on the west, and Mont Buet on the 
 north-west, the traveller leaves the delightful vale of 
 Charaouni, and pursues his journey to St Bernard. This 
 mountain, though it lies almost directly east from Mont 
 Blanc, and at the distance only of a few leagues, cannot 
 be approached on that side. He must, therefore, either 
 search his way into Italy, through the mountains that en- 
 compass Mont Blanc, or retrace his steps to the Vallais, 
 and join at Martigny, the great road, called the pass of 
 St Bernard. From St Bernard he usually proceeds to 
 Mont Rosa, a remarkable mountain in the eastern ex- 
 tremity of the Pennine Alps, and afterwards to Mont 
 Cervin, which lies immediately west of Mont Rosa. As 
 the routes usually followed by those who visit these 
 mountains have nothing worthy of particular description, 
 or at least present scenery in a great measure similar to 
 what we have already so amply detailed, we shall con- 
 clude our remarks with a short sketch of the composi- 
 tion and structure of the four principal mountains of the 
 Pennine Alps, referring our readers for minute details to 
 the volumes of Saussure. 
 
 The first thing, says Saussure, that strikes the spec- 
 tator placed on the top of Mont Blanc, is the remarkable 
 confusion and disorder which seems to prevail in the 
 disposition of the mountains in its neighbourhood. In- 
 stead of being arranged in chains, or regular lines, as 
 one would expect when viewing them from the plain ; 
 they present irregular groupes, detached from one 
 another, and connected only by their bases. Mont Blanc 
 itself appears an insulated mass, the different parts of 
 which are grouped together in the same irregular form. 
 Notwithstanding this seeming confusion, however, in the 
 distribution of these great masses, the greatest regular- 
 ity seems to prevail in the structure and composition of 
 their parts, which consist of strata of granite, almost 
 vertical, running parallel to one another, and dipping a 
 little to the N. E. It would appear from the observations 
 of Saussure, and from specimens preserved in cabinets, 
 that the higher parts of Mont Blanc are composed of a 
 rock belonging to one of the primitive overlying forma- 
 tions, [nieniie.) 
 
 The mountains which constitute the great St Bernard, 
 consist of a variety of schistose rocks, of a great degree 
 of hardness, with their strata considerably inclined, 
 and sometimes traversed by veins of quartz. Of these 
 rocks, mica-slate and clay-slate are the more predomi- 
 nant. Granite is only found on the sides of the moun- 
 tain in detached fragments. (See Voyage dans la Suisse, 
 torn. 1. p. 41.) 
 
 Mont Rosa is distinguished from the other mountains 
 both by its external form, and the position of its strata. 
 It consists of an uninterrupted series of stupendous 
 peaks, nearly of equal size and elevation, which forms 
 a kind of amphitheatre, enclosing in its centre the vil- 
 lage of Macugnaga. These peaks, according to Saus- 
 
 VoL. I. Part II. 
 
 sure, are composed of veined granite and gneiss ; and 
 what is peculiarly remarkable, tiic oirata, instead of be- 
 ing vertical, like Mont Blunc and the other primitive 
 mountains, are in general horizontal, or inclined more 
 than 90 degrees. [Sau6sun- torn. viii. p. 54.) 
 
 Mont Cervin, on the west of Moat Rosa, seems to be 
 composed chieily of beds of serpentine, alternating with 
 gneiss and mica slate. The beds incline towards the 
 N. E. nearly at an angle of 45 degrees. [Sauss. torn, 
 viii. p. 159.) Another summit to the S. E. of Mont 
 Cervin, called the Breit Horn, presents nearly the same 
 structure and composition. 
 
 ^ Table of the 7nost remarkable heights of the Pennine 
 jil/is. 
 
 Above the level of the sea. 
 
 Mont Blanc 15,680 Etig. Feet. 
 
 Col de Balme 7,625 
 
 Mont Breven 8,358 
 
 Mont Buet 10,106 
 
 Priory of Chamouni 3,554 
 
 Montanvert 6,1 OS 
 
 Convent of St Bernard .... 8,005 
 Mont Velan, the highest of the 
 
 mountains of St Bernard . . 11, OH 
 Mont Rosa, highest peak . . . 15,552 
 Peak of Mont Cervin .... 14,784 
 
 Breit Horn • 12,813 
 
 For farther particulars respecting the Alps lit general, 
 the reader may consult Saussure's Voyage dans leg 
 Alfies ; Bourrit, Descrijilion dcs Glaciers ; Coxe's Swis- 
 serland ; Beaumont's Travels through the different de- 
 fiartments of the Atfis ; and Voyage Pitloresque dant la 
 Suisse. See also in this work, Brenner, Cenis, Val- 
 lais, kc. 
 
 ALPS, Higher, Defiartmcnt of, is one of the de- 
 partments of France, formed out of the old provinces* 
 of Briangonnois, Gapen9ois, and Embrunois. It is 
 bounded on the north by the department of Mont Blanc ; 
 on the west, by the departments of the Iser, and of the 
 Drome ; on the south, by that of the Lower Alps ; and, 
 on the east, by the Alps. Two thirds of this depart- 
 ment are occupied by mountains, and the rest is covered 
 with snow during seven or eight months of the year. 
 The chief resource of the farmer, therefore, is in his 
 cattle. The sheep, which have excellent pasturage 
 in the mountauious district, are remarkable for the 
 beauty of their wool, and the admirable quality of their 
 flesh. In this department there is no commerce, and 
 but little industry. Its superficies is about 553,569 
 hectares, or 1,084,514 acres. The forests occupy nearly 
 43,000 hectares. Contributions in 1803, 726,331 francs. 
 Population 1 18,322. Gap is the capital of this depart- 
 ment, (o) 
 
 ALPS, Lower, Defiartment of, is one of the depart- 
 ments in France, formed out of the old dioceses of 
 Sisteron, Digne, Riez, Senez, and Lodeve. It is bounded 
 on the north by the department of the Higher Alps; 
 on the west, by those of the Drome and the Vaucluse; 
 on the south, by those of the Bouches du Rhone and 
 the Var; and on the east, by the Alps. The inhabitants 
 of the department devote themselves chiefly to the 
 
 * These were not properly provinces, but districts, 
 which were all contained within the province of Dau- 
 phine. Dufonceau. 
 
 4 A
 
 554 
 
 .ALS 
 
 ALT 
 
 cuUivation of potatoes; and it is a curious Tact, that the 
 years in which this crop has been most productive, have 
 been distinguished by the birth of a great number of 
 children. Sec Statisliijuc generate de la France, tom. 
 V. p. 420. Tlie superficies of the department is about 
 745,007 hectares, or 1,459,699 acres. The forests oc- 
 cupy about 56,000 hectares. Contributions in 1803, 
 4,007,311 francs. Population 140,121. The chief town 
 is Digne. (&) 
 
 ALPS, Maritime, Dcjiartment of-, is one of the dc- 
 parimenls of France, formed out of the county of Nice, 
 and the principality of Monaco. Tliese districts were 
 placed under the protection of France in 1793; and, by 
 a decree of the convention, united to the Republic. 
 This department is bounded on the north by that of the 
 Stura ; on the west, by those of the Lower Alps, and 
 the Var; on the south, by the sea; and on the east, by 
 the Ligurian Republic. The superficies of the depart- 
 ment is about 322,674 hectares, or 632,619 acres. The 
 forests occupy nearly 37,000 hectares. Contributions 
 in 1803, 622,821 francs. Population 87,071. Nice is 
 the principal town of the department, (o) 
 
 ALPUXARRAS, Las, or Mantes Solis, the name of 
 a group of high mountains in Granada, in Spain. They 
 arc visible from the African coast between Tangiers and 
 Ceuta, and extend from Velez to Almeria, about 1 5 
 miles from west to east, and about 33 from north to 
 south. Among these mountains, there is said to be a 
 spring, which instantly dyes the thread of silk and linen, 
 and a cavern, the exhalations of which immediately de- 
 stroy animal life, (tp) 
 
 ALSACE, the name of one of the old provinces of 
 France, which now forms the departments of the Higher 
 and the Lower Rhine. This province, called Msatia by 
 the Romans, was inhabited by the Triboci. It was pos- 
 sessed by the Burgundians about the fifth century ; and 
 after that, by the kings of France, till it was governed 
 by landgraves. It then passed to the house of Austria, 
 who ceded it to Lewis XIV. in 1648, by the treaty of 
 Munster. The description of this province will be 
 given under the articles Rhine, Lower and Higher, 
 Departments of. (w) 
 
 ALSEN, the name of an island belonging to Den- 
 mark, and situated in the Lesser Belt, between the 
 island of Funen and the coast of Sleswick, from which 
 it is separated by a narrow channel, called Alsen-sund. 
 The island, which is about 20 English miles long and 
 9 broad, abounds in fruits, and produces all kinds of 
 grain except wheat. The fine woods with which it is 
 covered abound in game, and its lakes contain great 
 quantities of fish. The chief towns of the island are 
 Norborg and Sondcrborg. E. Long, of the centre of 
 Ihe island 9" 55'. N. Lat. 54° 56'. (u') 
 
 ALSINE, or Chickweed, a genus of plants of the 
 class Pentandria, and order Trigynia. See Botany, (to) 
 ALSTON, Charles, M. D. a writer on medicine 
 and botany, and lecturer on botany and materia medica 
 in the University of Edinburgh. He was born in the 
 west of Scotland, in 1683, and received the first parts 
 of his education at Glasgow. While a student there, he 
 had the good fortime to be taken under the patronage 
 of the dutchcss of Hamilton; and by the assistance of 
 that lady, he was enabled to accomplish the design which 
 he had alreadv formed, of attaching himself to physic. 
 For some time he continued to exert himself in acquir- 
 ing such a knowledge of anatomy and chemistry, as 
 Scotland, in those days, could afford him the means of 
 
 attainir.g ; and, at the age of 33, he accompanied the 
 celebrated Alexander Monro to Leyden, and siudicd 
 under Boerhaave, who then enjoyed a high reputation 
 in that city. On their return, these distinguished indi- 
 viduals, in conjunction with Plummer, Sinclair and 
 Rutherford, began their lectures, in the University of 
 Edinburgh ; and by their talents, their activity, and zeal, 
 laid the foundation of that school of physic. The de- 
 partments undertaken by Alston were those of botany 
 and materia medica; and in these branches, an acquain- 
 tance with which is indispensably necessary to every 
 one who would accomplish himself in the therapeutic 
 art, he laI)oured willi encreasing reputation till his death, 
 which happened in 1760. In the year 1753, Dr Alston 
 published a dissertation on the sexes of plants, in which 
 he combats, with no little ability, the doctrine of Lin- 
 naeus upon the same subject. This treatise appeared in 
 the Edinburgh Physical and Literary Essays; and he 
 indulged in it an asperity of language which was very 
 unsuitable to a discussion of a philosophical nature, but 
 which LinnJBiis had provoked by some of his descrip- 
 tions. He published also, in the Edinburgh Medical 
 Essays, a paper on the effects of tin as an anthelminthic. 
 It was given in substance to the extent of an ounce, 
 and carried off in the succeeding days by means of the 
 less violent purgatives. It is still a medicine of consi- 
 derable repute. Dr Alston likewise engaged in a con- 
 troversy with Dr Whytt about quicklime ; but the most 
 valuable of all his works are his Lectures on the Mate- 
 ria Medica, in two volumes 4to. They were published 
 in the year 1770, and contain many interesting and use- 
 ful statements; though, from the improvements of later 
 and more cultivated times, they could not be pursued at 
 present with any great prospect of advantage. See 
 Kdin. Physical and Lit. Essays, vol.i. and the Edin. Med, 
 Essays, vol. v. (/;) 
 
 ALSTONIA, a genus of plants of the class Po- 
 lyandria, and order Monogynia, so called from Dr Al- 
 ston, the subject of the preceding article. See Botany. 
 
 ALSTROEMERIA, a genus of plants of the' class 
 Hexandria, and order Monogynia. The name is derived 
 from baron Alstroemer. Sec Botany, (to) 
 
 ALT, a GeiTnan word, signifying old, which is often 
 prefixed to the names of places, as Alt-dorf. (in) 
 
 ALT, in Music, a word applied to the high notes of 
 the scale which lie between F above the treble cliff 
 note, and G in Altissimo. Busby's J^Ius. Diet, (to) 
 
 ALTA, in Music, signifies higher, as 8va Alta, an 
 octave higher. 
 
 ALTAI, or Altay Mountains, are an extensive 
 chain of mountains in the north of Asia, extending 
 about 5000 miles, from the 70th to the 140th degree of 
 east longitude. The Altai mountains are divided into 
 the Greater and Lesser Altai ; the former proceeding 
 to the north-north-east by various windings, and the 
 latter running between Soongovia and the government 
 of Kolhyvan. The various ridges and individual moun- 
 tains which compose this immense chain, have not hi- 
 therto received uniform and appropriate appellations; 
 nor are geographers agreed with respect to the differ- 
 ent branches which ought to be included under the Al- 
 taian range. Tlic individual mountains, some of which 
 vie with those of the Alps in magnitude and sublimity, 
 will be descriljed under their proper heads, (to) 
 
 It would appear, from the observations of Renovantz, 
 Herman, Laxman, Pallas, Patrin, and others, that the
 
 ALT 
 
 ALT 
 
 555 
 
 ijcognosiic relations of this vast riingc ol mountain 
 groupes, correspond with those of other Alpine coun- 
 tries. The centre and highest parts of tlie groupes are, 
 in general, composed of the first or oldest granite for- 
 mation, on which rest, with lower and lower levels cor- 
 responding to the age of the fornralion, gneiss, mica 
 slate, and clay slate. Along with these rocks, beds of 
 trap, serpentine, and lime-stone, are obseived ; and the 
 whole series are frequently covered with the second 
 porphyry, (the porphyry contains jasper,) second ser- 
 pentine, and sienite formations. 
 
 We have not met with any account of the occurrence 
 of transition rocks, although there is not a doubt, that 
 careful examination will discover them in this great 
 range. 
 
 Mineralogists mention chalcedony, carnelian, he. as 
 occurring in different parts of the range ; it is probable 
 that they belong either to the transition, or floetz trap. 
 The lower parts of the range are in many places com- 
 posed of floetz rocks, as sand-stone conglomerate, sand- 
 stone, lime-stone, gypsum, marl, trap, 8cc. but the for- 
 mations have not been ascertained. The lowest parts, 
 as the valleys and plains, are covered with alluvial 
 rocks of different kinds. Metalliferous repositories, 
 containhig gold, silver, copper, lead, zinc, and iron, 
 occur in different places, and in some in great abun- 
 dance. 
 
 Several of the most extensive and important mines in 
 Siberia are situated in the Altaian range ; thus the sil- 
 ver mines oi Kolhyvan, tlie richest of the kind in the 
 Russian empire, are in this range. These mines em- 
 ployed, in 1786, about 54,000 workmen. They afforded, 
 from the year 1745 to 1787, 24,460 poods of fine silver, 
 and about 830 poods of fine gold, which together amounts 
 in value to upwards of thirty millions of rubles. The 
 expenses for this wl.ole time, even including the charges 
 of separation at St Petersburgh, come not to above se- 
 ven millions of rubles; consequently here is a pure 
 gain oi 23 millions of rubles, which is very much in- 
 creased, if we estimate the copper coin, in which this 
 expense is paid, at its real value ; and consider, that 
 even tiiis is got and coined at the mines themselves. 
 The copper mines afford annually about 15,000 poods of 
 pure copper. The iron mines also are very extensive, 
 and afford a great quantity of this valuable metal ; the 
 manufacture and exportation of which, forms one of the 
 greatest branches of the wealth of Russia. 
 
 Vid. Tooke's Bussian Empire, vol. i. p. 118. vol. iii. 
 § 10. Pinkerton, vol. ii. p. 12, 70, 149. Pallas. Travels, 
 H. M. Renvoantz Mmeralogisch geografihische nachri- 
 chten von den Altaischen ffcbirgen jRussisch Kayserlichen 
 a-iitheils. E. Revet, 1788. 4to. B. F. Hermann's Verzeich- 
 m'ss der vurz'ug/ichsten steinarten, welche durch die 1786 
 ins Allainche gebirge ausgeschickte schur/rxfiedition ent- 
 deckt warden, in his BeytrUge zur fihysik, &c. der Rus- 
 sisc/ien lander, 3. Band, p. 31 — 54. Hermann iiber die 
 fiorfiliyrgebirge am luestlichen ausgekenden des Altaischen 
 erzgebirges. Crell's. Cliem. Annalen, 1789, 1. Band, p. 
 488 — 496. P. S. Pallas Bericht von dem neiien grubc7i- 
 bau aw Jlusse Buchtuvnia, ausserhalb den Kulyiuanishen 
 grdnzlinie. Neii. A'ord. Beytrdg. 5. Band, p. 266 — 270. 
 Brunnich's Mineralogie. Hermann's Statist, schilder. 
 Bergmdnnisches Journal, (r) 
 
 ALTAR, a pile, constructed in various forms, and 
 of various materials, on which sacrifices were offered. 
 'Vltars are no doubt of very high antiquity : They are 
 supposed by many to be as ancient as sacrifices them- 
 
 selves, which appear to be nearly coeval with religious 
 worship. It does not, however, necessarily follow, that 
 altars are as ancient as sacrifices : for it does not appear 
 to be essential to sacrificing, that it should be perform- 
 ed on an altar. Hence we learn from Hesychius and 
 Phavorinus, that there were aTro^a/^in .Ivtixi, or sacri- 
 fices which were offered without ahars ; and Strabo tells 
 us, that the Persians had neither images nor altars, but 
 sacrificed to the gods h u^>iXa totu, upon some high 
 place. The first altars were very rude and inartificial 
 in their structure ; the altar which' Jacob set up at Bethel, 
 was the stone which had served him as a pillow. This, 
 however, was perhaps not so much an altar as a consecra- 
 ted pillar; and it may have been the origin of that super- 
 stitious reverence, which was paid by most of the hea- 
 then nations to unlormed blocks of stone. What is 
 very remarkable, these rude blocks were denominated 
 /3«iTt/A(a, a word evidently of Hebrew or Phoenician 
 origin, derived from Bethel, which signifies the house of 
 God, the name given by Jacob to the place where he 
 set up his pillar. Gen. xxviii. 18. 
 
 Among the heathens, altars were of different heights, 
 according to the nature of the gods to whom they were 
 dedicated. The altaria, so called, we are told, ab alti- 
 tudine, were appropriated to the celestial gods ; the 
 ane, which were lower, to the terrestrial. The Greek 
 word /3wfM5 comprehends both the altaria and the arte ; 
 and the distinction between these two words is not al- 
 ways preserved by the Laiin authors. To the heroes, 
 sacrifices were offered on altars only one step high, 
 called in Greek £o-;^;«jaj. The infernal gods had trenches 
 instead of altars, called Axxx-m and fioS-^oi, and to the 
 nymphs sacrifices were offered in Avr^ct or caves. 
 
 In the more refined ages of idolatry, altars were 
 adorned with sculpture, and generally bore either the 
 image or symbols of the gods to whom they were dedi- 
 cated. But as the number of the gods came at last to 
 be prodigiously multiplied, it was found rather incon- 
 venient to assign to each, separate temples and altars ; 
 their votaries therefore, fell on a frugal expedient of 
 showing their piety, whilst at the same time they spared 
 their purses. For this purpose, a number of gods were 
 clubbed together, who had one temple and one altar 
 assigned to them ; and who, from this circumstance, 
 were called c-v»vmi, as being worshipped in one common 
 temple, and inoSa/<.iei, as having one common altar. On 
 this principle the pantheon at Rome was dedicated to 
 all the gods, and All-Saints' day in the popish calendar, 
 to all the saints. 
 
 Altars were of various fonns ; round, square, or ob- 
 long ; but whatever their form might be, they appear, 
 in general, to have had one circumstance in common,.— 
 they were almost all adorned with horns. The figures 
 of Roman altars on medals, are never without horns ; 
 the same appears to have been the case with the Gre- 
 cian altars. Nonnus introduces Agave offering a sheep 
 by the direction of Cadmus, ivkc^ciuj ttx^x Sufca. Moses 
 also was directed to erect an altar with four horns. 
 These horns served for various purposes ; the victims 
 were fastened to them, as is intimated in the 118th 
 psalm, " Bind the sacrifice nvith cords, even unto the horns 
 of the altar;'" and when suppliants fled to the altar for 
 refuge, they always laid hold of the horns. This cir- 
 cumstance would seem to indicate, that the horns were 
 reckoned the most sacred parts of the altars ; and in- 
 deed their original design seems to be to sene as em- 
 blems of honour, and sanctity. In this sense, we find 
 4 A 2
 
 556 
 
 ALT 
 
 horrifi employed in a great variety of places in the sacred 
 writings ; and it appears to have been an emblem uni- 
 versally understood throughout the East. Jupiter, Bac- 
 chus, Scrapis, and Isis, arc represented as adorned with 
 horns : and Astartc is said to have worn horns, ui 
 poc.Fi?iu*i %ci^«.T-iiMi, as the ensign of royalty. As there- 
 fore the ancients ascribed horns to their gods, as an 
 hpnourable distinction, it was natural enough to transfer 
 them to their altars. It may be objected to this expla- 
 nation, that though it accounts for the origin of horns 
 in the heathen altars, it does not clear the matter as to 
 the Jewish altars. But we have shown the same figure 
 was common both to the Jews and heathens ; and we 
 know, that God appointed to the Jews those signs which 
 were best understood, and which, of course, would be 
 most impressive ; nay the prophet Habakkuk, iii. 4. says, 
 of the true God, " His brightness was as the light, he 
 hud hams coming out of his hand." 
 
 Those altars on which the sacrifices were consumed 
 with fire, were called ift-Trv^t, ; such was the altar of 
 burnt-off'crings among the Jews ; tliose on which no fire 
 was used were called uttv^oi ; and those on which no 
 blood was shed were called aixii^ax-roi ; such was the 
 altar of sheiv-bread. The heathen altars were very ge- 
 nerally erected under the shade of a consecrated tree ; 
 which was the situation of Priam's altar. 
 
 ^dibus in mediis, tnedioque sub Ktheris axe, 
 Ingens ara fuit, juxtaque veteri-ima laurus 
 Incumbens ara;, atquc umbra complexa Penates. 
 
 JEs.ii. 512. 
 
 This practice of erecting altars in groves, and under the 
 shade of trees, was so universal, and had been so 
 grossly abused, that God gave this express command 
 to the Jews, " Thou slialt not plant thee a grove of any 
 trees near unto the altar of the Lord thy God." Dent. 
 xvi. 21. Judges vi. 25. 2 Kings xxi. 3. 
 
 Altars were esteemed peculiarly sacred, and in gene- 
 ral afforded an inviolable asylum to such as fled to them 
 for refuge. This privilege, however, was grossly abused; 
 and the altars, instead of affording protection to the in- 
 nocent, became much more frequently the retreats of 
 the guilty. Hence Tacitus, {yinnal. lib. iii c. 60.) com- 
 plains, that the Grecian temples and altars were crowd- 
 ed with profligate slaves, and criminals who had fled 
 from justice : and Euripides, in the ptrson of Ion, loudly 
 protests against such abuses, urging very sensibly, 
 
 Ts; /«.£» y«J ahKHi fiaf^lii Hx,' '?'" ^X?''* 
 AAA* (|eA«t/ve(»- ovh y«f -^uvtiv xaAot 
 
 The altars among the Jews also afforded an asylum to 
 malefactors; but they were not considered as inviolable 
 sanctuaries. Accordingly, wnen Joab laid hold of the 
 horns of the altar, and refused to leave it, Solomon or- 
 dered him to be killed where he was. 1 Kings ii. 31. 
 The Greeks also, on urgent occasions, continued to 
 elude the strict obligation, of observing the inviolability 
 of their asyla. When Pausanias fled to the temple of 
 Minerva Chalciaecus, the Lacedemonians unroofed the 
 temple, blocked up the doors, and left him to starve 
 with cold and hunger. It was also lawful to drive out 
 the criminals by fire. Hence in Plautus, a master thus 
 threatens his slave who had fled to an altar for pro- 
 tection : 
 
 Jam jubebo ignem et sarmenta, caniifex, ciicumdari. 
 
 ALT 
 
 Some of tlie ancients, however, were by no means cere- 
 monious in shewing their contempt for the sanctity of 
 altars ; and Diogenes in particular, to shew how little 
 he respected them, took a louse and cracked it on the 
 altar of Diana. 
 
 By the phrase Pro oris ct focin^ is generally under- 
 stood, our religious and civil liberties. This, however, 
 does not appear to be the true meaning of the words : 
 both of them have a reference to religion. Jra is the 
 altar in the iin/iluvium, or middle of tlie house where 
 the Penates were worshipped ; Focuh is the hearth in 
 the alriitin, or hall, where the Lares were worshipped. 
 As therefore the Pcnales, according to Servius, were 
 the same as the Magni Vii, whilst the Lares were the 
 domestici et /aini/iares, that is, such as were worshipped 
 by particular families, the phrase /iro aris et focis may 
 more properly mean, "for our public and private rights." 
 Much has been said, to very little purpose, respect- 
 ing the altar at Athens, To the unk-nonvn God. The sub- 
 ject has been obscured chiefly by the comments and ex- 
 planations of the fathers. All that we know with cer- 
 tainty on the subject is, that an altar, with the inscrip- 
 tion a'/m^ifi ^iifi existed at Athens in the time of St Paul. 
 As to the occasion on which this altar was erected, we 
 are entirely in the dark ; and we do not think it neces- 
 sary to swell this article with the idle conjectures which 
 have been formed on the subject. For the most satis- 
 factory account, we refer to Doddridge and Hammond, 
 in loco : and for a detailed view of various conjectures, 
 to Calmct, word ytltar. For a particular account of the 
 Jewish altar of burnt-offerings, see Prideaux's Connect. 
 vol. i. p. 199. For the Grecian and Roman altars, see 
 Potter's Atit of Greece, vol. i. p. 185, 4th edit, and 
 Adams's Ko7n. Antiq. p. 327. (.§•) 
 
 ALTAR, in the Christian church, a table set apart 
 for the celebration of the Eucharist. It was called an 
 altar, from the popish notion of the Eucharist being a 
 real propitiatory sacrifice. The early reformers protest- 
 ed with reason against this notion, and were for abolish- 
 ing both the name and use of altars in the Christian 
 churches, as tending to foster erroneous and supersti- 
 tious opinions. (.§') 
 
 ALTDORF, or Altorf, the capital of the canton of 
 Uri, in Switzerland. It is a handsome town, embo- 
 somed in steep mountains covered with trees, and is 
 celebrated as the birth-place of William Tell, who, by 
 resisting the tyrannical oppression of Gesler, contributed 
 to establish the liberties of his country. Population 4000. 
 It is situated to the south of the lake of the four Can- 
 tons, in E. Long. 8° 24'. N. Lat. 46o 55'. (o) 
 ALTENA. See Altova. 
 
 ALTENBURG, anciently Plisne, the capital of AI- 
 tenburg, a German principality in Upper Saxony. It is 
 large and populous, and is situated upon the river Pleiss, 
 which runs into the Sala. Altcnburg contains a college ; 
 a place of education for young ladies of decayed fami- 
 lies ; a house belonging to the Teutonic order; a mu- 
 seum and library ; an hospital for orphans ; a gymna- 
 sium, founded in 1703. E. Long. 12° 33'. N. Lat. 50° 
 59'. (o) 
 
 ^^I^SS^J^ ^'''''-^'- ? SeeGEOMETRT. 
 
 ALTERNATE Proportion. 5 
 
 ALTHEA, a genus of plants of the class Monadel- 
 phia, and order Polyandria. See Botany, {nv) 
 
 ALTIMETRY, a term sometimes employed to sig- 
 nify the mensuration of accessible and inaccessible 
 heights. Sec Trigonometry, (-w)
 
 ALT 
 
 ALT 
 
 557 
 
 ALTIN, or Altvn, called by the Russians Teletzko, 
 is a largo lake iu Siberia, silualcd at a tji'eat lieiglit on 
 the north side ol" the Altaian mountains. This lake has 
 a rocky bottom, and the northern part of it is sometimes 
 frozen so hard, as to be passable on foot, while its south- 
 ern part is never frozen. Its length is about 40 miles, 
 and its breadth 20. E. Long. 105'. N. Lat. 49°. (o) 
 
 ALTING, Henrv, an eminent Protestant divine, was 
 born at Embden, on the 17th February 1583. lieing 
 designed for the profession of his father, who had the 
 honour to be one of the fust that preached the doctrines 
 of the Reformation at Groningen, under the oppressive 
 government of the duke of Alva, he was sent to the 
 university of Herborn in 1 602, after having gone tlirough 
 the common course of preparatory study. The rapid 
 progress which he made in the sciences of the times, 
 pointed him out to Frederic, electoral prince Palatine, 
 as a proper person to superintend the education of the 
 counts Nassau, Solms, and Isenberg, who were then 
 studying at Sedan. Alting entered upon this new situa- 
 tion in 1605 ; but the storm with which Henry IV. threat- 
 ened the duke of Bouillon, induced the electoral prince 
 to retire with the three young noblemen to Heidelberg. 
 Alting was there employed in reading lectures on geo- 
 graphy and history to Frederic, and was appointed his 
 preceptor in 1608. In 1612, he accompanied the young 
 elector to England, where he was introduced to the 
 celebrated Ur King, and to Dr Abbot, archbishop of 
 Canterbury. After the marriage between the elector 
 and the princess Elizabeth of England was solemnized, 
 Alting returned to Heidelberg in 1613, and was appoint- 
 ed professor of divinity in that university. 
 
 In 1616, he was elected regent of the college of Wis- 
 dom at Heidelberg; and by the death of Coppenius in 
 1618, he was offered the vacant chair of the second pro- 
 fessorship of divinity ; but this offer he refused to accept, 
 and procured it for his friend Scultetus. Alting was 
 one of the deputies that were sent by the university to 
 the synod of Dort, where he foiuid a favourable oppor- 
 tunity for displaying the extent of his learning and the 
 richness of his eloquence 
 
 The prospects of Alting now began to brighten and 
 extend, and he looked forward to riches and preferment 
 from the unexpected but short-lived elevation of his pa- 
 tron. The Evangelic league in Bohemia, which the 
 Lutherans and Calvinisls combined to form, had now 
 become a powerful and formidable bulwark of the re- 
 formed religion ; and no sooner was the imperial throne 
 vacant by the death of Mathias, (16 18,) than the majority 
 of the people determined that a catholic king should 
 no longer sway the sceptre of Bohemia. The crown 
 was accordingly offered to the elector palatine, the most 
 powerful protestant prince in Germany. Dazzled by 
 the splendour of the present, Frederic incautiously ac- 
 cepted the diadem, and thus involved himself in all the 
 calamities which embittered the remainder of his days. 
 The catholic league, aided by the imperialists, opposed 
 the accession of Frederic; and the defeat which he ex- 
 perienced at the battle of Prague, completely extinguish- 
 ed his hopes of retaining the Bohemian throne. The 
 electorate even was wrested from him by the imperial 
 forces; and thus, from a desire to occupy the throne of 
 another, he was finally dispossessed of his own. When 
 Heidelberg was taken by count Tilly, in 1622, and given 
 up to the barbarous violence of an unprincipled soldiery, 
 Alting was saved from their fury by an escape almost 
 miraculous. Having attempted to save himself, by pass- 
 
 ing through a back door into the chancellor's house, 
 which count dc Tilly had protected by a strong guard, 
 he was stopped by the colonel, who, blandishing a bat- 
 tle-axe in his hand, thus addressed himself to Alting: 
 " With this I have already killed ten men, and Dr Al- 
 ting should be the eleventh, did I but know where he 
 had concealed himself — Who arc you ?" With uncom- 
 mon presence of mind. Ailing replied, " I have been 
 regent in the College of Wisdom." The colonel pro- 
 mised to save him; but the Jesuits having taken pos- 
 session of the house, Alting was obliged to hide himself 
 in a garret, where he was secretly supplied with provi- 
 sions by a cook, who contrived to gel him safely con- 
 ducted to liis own house. Here Alting found every 
 thing in confusion, and his study possessed by a captain, 
 who politely ofiered him liberty to carry ofl' what book 
 he pleased. Ailing did not accept of the offer, but 
 mildly replied, " Tliat if th( sc things belonged to him, 
 he wished thai God would bless him with a longer pos- 
 session of them than he had done their former owner." 
 In returning to his concealment, he escaped a thousand 
 dangers; and after three days' confinement, he was al- 
 lowed by count Tilly to retire to his family, who had 
 been formerly removed to Ileilbron. 
 
 At the entreaties of the electoress, Alting was per- 
 mitted by the duke of Wirtcmberg to reside in Schorn- 
 dorff ; but though he had just escaped from the fury of 
 his enemies, he could not find either sympathy or shelter 
 among his friends. From the proximity of the palatinate 
 to the dutchy of Wirleniberg, the professors of Tubin- 
 gen and Heidelberg were involved in perpetual conten- 
 tions about the lesser points of religion, and cherished 
 towards each other sentiments of animosity and hatred, 
 which could scarcely have been expected in men who 
 were professed adherents of the protestant faith. It 
 might have been presumed, that the unrelenting hos- 
 tility of the catholics would have compressed into one 
 phalanx the friends of reform, and would have extin- 
 guished their mutual jealousies and dissensions, for the 
 advancement of the common cause. The Lutheran mi- 
 nisters of Schorndorft' sided with their countrymen of 
 Tubingen ; and the generous feelings of the heart, if 
 such men could possess them, were completely extin- 
 guished by the inveteracy of their theological conten- 
 tions. They complained to the duke of Wirtemberg, 
 that a Heidelberg professor was allowed to reside in 
 their vicinity ; and thus the good and unfortunate Alting, 
 whose sufl'crings would have procured him art asylum 
 among a nation of barbarians, could not screen himself 
 from persecution among an assembly of divines. 
 
 Ailing was thus obliged, in 1623, to retire with his 
 family to Embden. He afterwards went to the Hague 
 on a visit to the king ef Bohemia, who detained him to 
 instruct his eldest son, and prevented him from accept- 
 ing the protestant church of Embden, and a professor- 
 ship of divinity in the academy of Franeker, which were 
 offered to him in 1625. He was, however, permitted to 
 accept of the theological chair at Groningen in 1627'; 
 and such was the fame of his learning and genius, that 
 the university of Leyden was solicitous to have the bene- 
 fit of his talents. The estates of Groningen would not 
 consent to the removal of Alting, who continued to lec- 
 ture in their university till the day of his death. He had 
 determined indeed to accede to the proposal of prince 
 Lewis Philip, administrator of the palatinate, to re-esta- 
 blish the academy at Heidelberg, and the churches of 
 the electorate, and to hold the office of professor of
 
 558 
 
 ALT 
 
 ALV 
 
 divinity, unil ccclcbiusiical senator; but no sooner liad 
 he left Clroniiigcn, and arrived at Franckforl lhroiii;;h 
 iiiniinierable dangers, than his progress was stopped by 
 the triumphs of tlic imperial arms at the battle ol Nord- 
 lingen. His prospects oi honour and usefulness were 
 thus blasted, and he was compelled to return by many 
 by-roads to Groningen. 
 
 The remainder of Alting's life was embittered by per- 
 sonal distress and domestic misfortunes. The death of 
 his eldest daughter, in 1639, involved him in a settled 
 melancholy, which thi-ew him into a quartan ague. This 
 disease ended in a dangerous lethargy, which was nearly 
 cured, when the death of liis wife, in 1643, sunk, him in 
 fresh calamities, which put a period to his life on the 
 25th of August 1644. 
 
 There are few characters in which distinguished ta- 
 lents and amiable dispositions have been so happily com- 
 bined as in that of Alting. Sincere in his profession of 
 Christianity, he never disgraced it by his practice, but 
 exhibited its influence over his mind in a train of public 
 and domestic virtues. His piety was not sullied by the 
 austere manners of the age ; nor was his learning ob- 
 scured by the subtilities of scholastic theology. Though 
 a zealous adherent of the reformed religion, he despised 
 the trifling controversies which were agitated among 
 his brethren, and deplored the evil consecpiences to 
 which they generally led. The liberty of thought which 
 he claimed for himself, he willingly extended to others ; 
 but he disliked nothing so much as innovations in reli- 
 gion, and he lamented the folly of those who obscured 
 the doctrines of their faith, by the distinctions and quib- 
 bles of sophistry, and who were losing the little truth 
 that they had found, in the mazy labyrinths of error. 
 
 The works of Alting are jVotie in Decadem Problema- 
 tum Jofi. Behm Heidelb. 1618; Loci Communes. — Prob- 
 lemata. — Rxjilicat. Catec/ivseo.t Palatin. Amst. 1646; 
 Exegesis August. Confess. Kwi%\. 1647; Methodus Tlieo- 
 logix, Amst. 1 650 ; Medulla Hist. Profan. (/3) 
 
 ALTITUDE. See Astronomy, Barometer, Tri- 
 gonometry. 
 
 ALTO, a term in music applied to that part of the 
 great vocal scale which lies between the mezzo soprano 
 and the tenor. Busby's AIus. Diet. 
 
 ALTO Relievo. See Relievo. 
 
 ALTONA, the capital of Holstein, and the third city 
 in Denmark, is situated near to Hamburgh, on the north 
 bank of the river Elbe. It was originally a village of 
 the parish of Ottensen. In 1640 it became subject to 
 Denmark, and was constituted a city in 1664. It was 
 nearly reduced to ashes by the Swedes, under count 
 Steinboch, in 1713, but it was afterwards rebuilt and 
 surrounded with walls. It was the port of the Danish 
 East India Company. Population 24,500. E. Long. 9° 
 55'. N. Lat. 53° 35'. (p) 
 
 ALVA, Ferdinand Alvares de Toledo, duke of, 
 was born of a noble family in Spain, in the year 1508, 
 and is said to have been instructed in the military art 
 by his grandfather, Frederic de Toledo. He made his 
 first appearance as a general in 1538, in the service of 
 Charles V. ; and in this capacity he acquired great re- 
 putation by his defence of Perpignan, in 1542, against 
 the dauphin of France. He was the first in command 
 when Charles commenced hostilities against the Ger- 
 man proteslants, in 1546; was chosen by that emperor 
 as a proper person to preside in the court martial, which 
 condemned to death the elector of Saxonv ; and was 
 employed also to execute a similar act of injustice in 
 
 detainaig the landgrave of Hesse hi custody, after 
 Charles had promised him his liberty. In 1552, he was 
 appointed, in conjunction with the marquis de Marig- 
 nano, to conduct the siege ot Metz; and, in 1555, he 
 was sent into Piedmont, with the sole command of the 
 imperial army, to oppose the mareehal Brissac. He 
 owed this last appointment to the intrigues of a rival, 
 as well as to the emperor's opinion of his military ta- 
 lents. He had courted, with much assiduity, the favour 
 of Philip, the son of Charles ; and as he resembled that 
 prince in many features of his character, he soon 
 wrouglit himself into his confidence. Ruy Gomez de 
 Silva, Philip's favourite, in order to remove so formida- 
 ble a competitor, requested the emperor to honour Alva 
 with the command in Piedmont. Though the duke well 
 knew to what motives he owed this distinction; yet, as 
 it was both a difficult and hazardous station, he thought 
 himself bound in honour to accept of it ; but, at the same 
 time, insisted upon his own terms, namely, that he should 
 be constituted the emperor's vicar general in Italy, with 
 the supreme military command of all the imperial and 
 Spanish dominions in that country. To all these de- 
 mands Charles readily acceded ; and Alva entered on 
 his new dignity with almost unlimited authority. " His 
 first operations, however, were neither proportioned to 
 his former reputation, and the extensive powers with 
 which he was invested ; nor did they come up to the 
 emperor's expectations." And " after having boasted, 
 with his usual arrogance, that he would drive the French 
 out of Piedmont in a few weeks, he was obliged to re- 
 tire into winter quarters, with the ignominy of being 
 unable to preserve entire that part of the countiy, of 
 which tiie emperor had hitherto kept possession." (Ro- 
 bertson's Charles V.') He continued to hold the same 
 command under Philip, to whom Charles resigned his 
 dominions in 1556; advanced into the ecclesiastical 
 states, and made himself master of the Campagna di 
 Romana. In the following year, he negotiated a peace 
 with the pope ; and, according to the terms of the trea- 
 ty, went in person to Rome, kissed the feet of his holi- 
 ness, and implored forgiveness for having invaded the 
 patrimony of the church. "Such was the superstitious 
 veneration of the Spaniards for the papal character, that 
 Alva, though perhaps the proudest man of the age, and 
 accustomed from his infancy to a familiar intercourse 
 witli princes, acknowledged, that when he approached 
 the pope, he was so overawed, that his voice failed, and 
 his presence of mind forsook him." (Robertson's 
 Charles V.) In 1559, Alva was sent to Paris, to es- 
 pouse, in the name of Philip, Elizabeth, the eldest 
 daughter of Henry, second king of France ; and, in 1567, 
 he was selected, as the fittest instrument, to execute 
 the oppressive measures of the Spanish court in the 
 Netherlands. He entered that devoted country at the 
 head of a well-disciplined army, and invested with the 
 most absolute powers as governor. As soon as he ar- 
 riv>;d at Brussels, he began to put in practice the treach- 
 erous and iniquitous system to which he had been 
 habituated under his former master Charles, to which 
 he was directed by the instructions of his present sove- 
 reign, and to which he was well inclined by his own 
 cruel temper. He invited count Egmont and count 
 Horn to his house, under the pretence of consulting 
 them respecting a citadel, which he proposed to build 
 at Antwerp ; and having, in this insidious manner, 
 drawn them into his power, he ordered them both into 
 custody ; while they in vain protested, tliat, as knights of
 
 ALVA. 
 
 559 
 
 Ihe sjoldcn fleece, they coukl be judgetl oiily by their 
 peers, and imprisoned only by their auuioiity. The loid 
 of Beckerzel, count Egmont's secretary, and several 
 other persons of distinction, suffered a similar fate. 
 Men of all ranks became alarmed, and more than 1000 
 individuals sought refuge in foreign countries. A coun- 
 cil of twelve members was instituted, to take cogni- 
 sance of those who had either directly or indirectly fa- 
 voured the plans of the reformers. Of this council the 
 duke himself was president ; and in his absence, Vargas, 
 a Spanish lawyer, noted for his ciuelty and avarice, di- 
 rected their deliberations. This assembly he named 
 " the Council of Tumults ;" but the severity of their 
 proceedings soon procured them the designation of 
 "the Bloody Council;" the country was filled with im- 
 prisonments, confiscations, and executions. There was 
 no distinction made of age, sex, or condition. " In the 
 space of a few months, upwards of 1800 persons suffer- 
 ed by the hands of the executioner; yet the duke of 
 Alva's thirst of blood was not satiated." — " His soldiers, 
 accompanied by the inquisitors, like so many wolves, 
 were let loose among the protestants; who were seized 
 in the middle of the night in their beds, and from thence 
 dragged to prisons and dungeons. Many who had been 
 only once present at the protestant assemblies, even 
 although they declared then- faith in the catholic reli- 
 gion to be firm and unshaken, were hanged or drowned ; 
 while those, who professed themselves to be protestants, 
 or refused to abjure their religion, were put to the rack, 
 in Older to make them discover their associates. They 
 were then dragged by horses to the place of execution; 
 and their bodies being committed to the flames, tiieir 
 sufferings were prolonged with ingenious cruelty. To 
 prevent them from bearing testimony, in the midst of 
 their torments, to the truth of their profession, their 
 executioners were not satisfied with barely confining 
 their tongues. They first scorched them with a glowing 
 iron, and then screwed them into a machine, contrived 
 on purpose to produce the most excruciating pain. It 
 is shocking to recount the numberless instances of in- 
 human cruelty perpetrated by Alva and his associates." 
 — " Even the members of the bloody council began to 
 feel their hearts revolt against the reiterated instances 
 of cruelty to which their sanction was required. Some 
 of them applied for dismission, others had the courage 
 to absent themselves; and out of the twelve, of which 
 the council was composed, there were seldom above 
 three or four present." Watson's Philili, v. i. 
 
 At length, many of the Catholic nobility, and even the 
 Pope himself, remonstrated with Philip on these pro- 
 ceedings ; but, at the instigations of the inquisitors in 
 Madrid, Alva and Vargas were authorised to continue 
 the prosecutions ; and they shewed themselves most wil- 
 ling agents in the service. In the mean time, the prince 
 of Orange, and several other noblemen, who had left 
 the Netherlands before Alva's arrival, and whose es- 
 tates he had confiscated, made an attempt to relieve 
 their oppressed country; but, after a few partial succes- 
 ses, they were forced to retire into Germany. Before 
 Alva marched to oppose the prince of Orange, he put 
 to death eighteen persons of rank, who had been seiz- 
 ed at his first arrival in the Low Countries; tortured 
 Casembrat, lord of Beckerzel, count Egmont's secre- 
 tary, to make him accuse his master, and then ordered 
 his body to be drawn asunder by horses ; and brought 
 to a formal trial, condenuied, and beheaded, counts Horn 
 and Egmont. After his success over the prince and his 
 
 party, the duke displayed his arrogance, by causing a 
 statue of hin.sell to be erected in llm citadel of Antwerp, 
 by winch lie is represented as triumphing over his ene- 
 mies ; and he gave additional proofs of his sanguinary 
 disposuion, by murdering the greater part of his pri- 
 soneis, as well as by bringing to the scaffold all who 
 were suspected of having favoured the insurgents. He 
 denounced as rebels even the innocent persons who fled 
 to other countries, and threatened to punish as traitors 
 any oi their friends wno should hold intercourse with 
 tliem. His vanity was flattered, and his bloody zeal was 
 stimulated by a present of a consecrated hat and sword, 
 which he received, about this time, from the Pope, and 
 Which was usually bestowed only upon princes. He had 
 now completely subdued or extirpated the reformers, 
 and had established the riles and ceremonies of the Ro- 
 mish church in all the provinces. But his arbitrary 
 measures soon excited new and formidable disturban- 
 ces. He was much ui need of money for the payment 
 of his troops, and for defraying the expense of the for- 
 tifications which he had erected. He considered the 
 Flemings as so thoroughly subjected that they would 
 not dare to resist any of his demands ; and he proceed- 
 ed to impose the most ruinous and oppressive taxes. 
 In spite of the counsels of his sovereign's most faithful 
 and experienced ministers, the remonstrances of the 
 states, and the refusal of several provinces, he deter- 
 mined to enforce the levying of these contributions. A 
 general revolt was the consequence. The states assem- 
 bled at Dort, and invited the prince of Orange to aid 
 them in the recovery of their liberty. War raged in all 
 its horrors throughout the Netherlands ; and the most 
 shocking barbarities were committed by Alva and his 
 son Frederic de Toledo. After a variety of military ope- 
 rations, which it is not the business of this article to 
 detail, carried on by both parties with the utmost bra- 
 very and skill, and which was attended with various 
 turns of success, the Protestants increased in strength, 
 and the Spanish court became convinced that a change 
 of measures was necessary. Alva was not ignorant of 
 the representations which were made against his pro- 
 ceedings ; and apprehending that his office might soon 
 be conferred upon another, he resolved to solicit his re- 
 cal. This he requested upon the pretence, that the 
 moisture of the climate, and the fatigues which he had 
 undergone, injured the state of his health. Philip con- 
 sented that he should retire from the regency, and he 
 left the Low Countries in 1573, after a government of 
 five years and a half. During the first five years after 
 his return to Spain, he continued to enjoy the favour and 
 confidence of his sovereign ; but tlie arrogance of his 
 manners rendered him so intolerable, that Philip at 
 length embraced the following opportunity to dismiss 
 him from his presence. His son Don Garcia de Toledo 
 had debauched one of the maids of honour, under a 
 promise of marriage. Philip put him under arrest, and 
 gave orders that he should not be released till he should 
 consent to fulfil his engagement. Alva, however, as- 
 sisted his son to make his escape ; and, in order to de- 
 feat the king's intention, concluded a marriage between 
 Don Garcia and a daughter of the marquis de Villena. 
 Philip was so provoked by this contempt of his author- 
 ity, that he banished the duke from court, and confined 
 him to the castle of Uzeda. Alva bore this indignity 
 with the utmost impatience, and procured intercessions 
 to be made in his behalf by the Pope, and some other 
 foreign princes. But all his applications were ineffec-
 
 560 
 
 ALV 
 
 ALU 
 
 lual ; and he continued in confinemcul licaily two 
 years, when he was very luiexpectcdly called by Phi- 
 lip, in 1580, to take the command of the army which 
 he had prepared for the conquest of Portugal. The 
 duke, without hesitation, accepted the appomtment of 
 his sovereign, and immediately set out to receive his 
 instructions. But he in vain solicited permission to pay 
 his respects to Philip in person ; and was ordered to join 
 the army without being admitted to his presence. He 
 conducted this expedition with great ability, but with 
 his usual treachery and cruelty. He rendered Philip 
 master of Portugal in less than one year, but he himselt 
 did not long enjoy the fruits of his success. He died 
 in the 74th year of his age, A. D. 1582. 
 
 Historians are all agreed as to the character of Alva, 
 and represent him as a most inhuman tyrant. In private 
 uitercourse he was haughty and arrogant, morose and 
 severe, revengeful and relentless. In a military capa- 
 city, he was one of the ablest commanders of the age in 
 which he lived ; inured from his infancy to the use of 
 arms, and possessed of consummate skill in the art of 
 war; proudly brave, prudently cautious, penetrating, pa- 
 tient, and persevering. These talents, however, as they 
 were generally engaged in the worst of causes, only 
 rendered him a greater scourge to his fellow-creatures. 
 In his government of the Netherlands, he shewed him- 
 self either utterly incapable to consult for the good of 
 his province, or cruelly determined to destroy its pros- 
 perity. He received it in a state of tranquillity, but soon 
 filled it with disturbances and devastation, liy his in- 
 tolerant system of taxation, and his neglect of the mar- 
 ine department, he ruined its extensive commerce. By 
 his oppressive measures, and bloody persecutions, he 
 greatly reduced the amount of its population. In the 
 space of five years and an half, more than a hundred 
 and twenty thousand of its most industrious and ingeni- 
 ous inhabitants were forced to take refuge in other coun- 
 tries. Eighteen thousand, according to his own state- 
 ment, were brought to the scaffold ; and a still greater 
 number were put to the sword. See Robertson's Hist, 
 of Charles V. Watson's Hist, of I'hilip II. Modern 
 Univ. Hist. vol. xxxi (17) 
 
 ALVARES DE Luna, in Biography, high treasurer 
 to John II. king of Castile, and a remarkable favourite 
 of that prince. He was born in 1388, and was the ille- 
 gitimate sonot Alvaro de Luna, a nolileman of Arragon, 
 and of an inferior woman, whose character was that of 
 the most corrupted of her sex. While yet a child, pope 
 Benedict XIII. was so pleased with his sprightliness 
 and wit, that he changed his name from Peter to Alva- 
 res, and afforded him his countenance and protection. 
 He was introduced at court A. D. 1408, and made a gen- 
 tleman of the bed-chamber of king John. From this 
 office he gradually rose to others of extensive patro- 
 nage, and high responsibility ; though not without the 
 opposition of the barons, who despised his unwarlike 
 qualifications, and envied him for the influence which 
 he had acquired and maintained over the king. The 
 consctiuence of this opposition was, that Alvares was 
 banished from the royal presence, and remained for a 
 year and a half at a distance from court. But John, who 
 seems to have been a feeble prince, was so distressed 
 at his removal and felt so painfully the uneasiness to 
 which it gave rise, that he recalled him from exile, in- 
 vested him with his former authority, and loaded him 
 with new marks of his favour. No sooner was he re- 
 instated in power, than he exerted all his influence 
 
 against those who had driven him from the society of the 
 king. The nobles were banished hi their turn ; and 
 they had the mortilication to aec every office of dignity 
 or emolument engrossed by the favourite, or thrown 
 away upon his minions. Nothing was done without his 
 orders ; all the places within the kingdom were at his 
 disposal ; he was master of the treasury, and so profuse 
 in his bounties, that though the eyes of the monarch 
 were at length opened, he was unable to relieve himself, 
 and afraid to complain. But the time of hiquiry and of 
 retribution was approaching. The royal favour had de- 
 parted from this unworthy minister ; the nobles, who 
 had long cherished the most determined hatred against 
 him, perceived the change, and rejoiced in the oppor- 
 tunity of turning it to their advantage. Alvares was 
 seized, and confined. The voice of popular approbation 
 was now on the side of his enemies, and his fall was 
 contemplated without interest or emotion, even by those 
 whom he had raised to distinction and to wealth. He 
 attempted oftener than once to procure an interview 
 with the king ; but all his attempts failing, he wrote to 
 him a letter expressive of the sense which he entertained 
 of his goodness, a goodness which, he remarked, ought 
 to have induced him, as his sovereign, to fix proper li- 
 mits to his fortune ; begging that 10,000 crowns, with 
 which he had furnished the treasury by unjust means, 
 should be restored to those from whom they had been 
 taken, and i-equesting that this might be done, if not 
 from a regard to his past services, at least from the 
 reasonableness of the request. 
 
 This letter, however, had no effect upon the king. 
 Alvares was tried and condemned ; and being removed 
 to Valladolid, he was beheaded in the market place of 
 that city ; leaving his name to give force to the precepts 
 of the moralist, and to enlarge the catalogue of such as 
 have been raised by princely favour to power and riches; 
 have rioted in the extravagance of dominion, and have 
 suffered the punishment due to their insolence and their 
 crimes. See Abrege de I'Histoire d' Espagnc, par P. 
 Isla, torn. ii. p. 270. {h) 
 
 ALUDELS, are earthen pots without bottoms, insert- 
 ed into each other, and formerly used in chemical ope- 
 rations. 
 
 ALVEARIUM, is the bottom of the hollow cavity 
 formed by the concha, or external part of the ear, where 
 the bony part of the canal begins, and where the wax is 
 secreted. See Anatomy, {f) 
 
 ALVEOLI, the sockets of the jaw bone in which the 
 teeth are fixed. See Anatomy. 
 
 ALUM. This saline substance is one in such com- 
 mon use, and is applied to so many purposes in the 
 arts, that it may be necessary to take some notice of it, 
 especially what regards its manufacture, besides the 
 general account of it to be given under the article Che- 
 mistry. 
 
 The salt, which now receives the name of Alum, was 
 not known to the ancients ; the Alumen of the Romans, 
 from the description that' has been given of it, appear- 
 ing to have been rather a sulphate of iron, or at least to 
 have contained a considerable portion of that metal. 
 The art of extracting and preparing alum, was brought 
 into Europe from the Levant. The most ancient of the 
 alum -works known, is that of Rocca in Syria, now called 
 Edessa ; whence the name of Rock alum, applied to a 
 particular variety of this salt, has been derived. From 
 this place, the alum used in Europe continued to be 
 imported, until in the fifteenth century, some Genoese,
 
 ALIBI. 
 
 561 
 
 who had learned in the Levant the mode of fabricating 
 it, were fortunate enough to discover alum ores in 
 Italy, and to extract it from them. The alum works 
 at Tolfa, near Civita Vecchia, attained celebrity and 
 still afi'ord a large quantity of this salt. In the six- 
 teenth century, the art of fabricating alum was known 
 in other parts of Europe: The manufacture appears to 
 have been established in England during the reign of 
 Elizabeth, at Whitby, in Yorkshire, where it is still 
 carried on. 
 
 The properties of the peculiar earth which forms the 
 basis of alum, were first pointed out by Gcoftroy and 
 Hellot, and it was shown by these chemists to be the 
 same with that which is the basis of pure clay ; which, 
 from modern chemists, has received the name of 
 argil, or alumine. This earth, Pott and Margraaf 
 proved to be contained in alum. The acid combined 
 with it, was known to be the sulphuric ; and this acid 
 being present in excess, or the salt being always sensi- 
 bly acidulous, alum was regarded as a supersulphate of 
 argil. 
 
 More light, however, was thrown on the composition 
 of this salt a few years ago by the researches of Vauque- 
 lin, and of Chaptal. It had been known, that, in some 
 of the processes for manufactuiing alum, it was neces- 
 sary to add to the saline ley, to cause it to crystallize, a 
 quantity of potash, or of ammonia, or of some substance 
 capable of affording either of these alkalis. This was 
 supposed to operate by correcting the too great excess 
 of acidity, which it was imagined prevented the crystalli- 
 zation. Bergman, however, observed, that soda, or 
 lime, which would equally correct any excess of acid, 
 cannot be employed with advantage ; and Vauquelin 
 and Chaptal, by an analysis of the different varieties of 
 alum of commerce, proved, that potash is always an 
 ingredient in them, and is essential to the composi- 
 tion of the salt. From the experiments of these che- 
 mists it appears, that the varieties of alum which are 
 met with in commerce, are not altogether uniform in 
 composition. Some of them consist of sulphuric acid, 
 argil, and potash ; the composition of this variety, as 
 stated by Vauquelin, being 49 of sulphate of argil, 7 of 
 sulphate of potash, and 44 of water. In others, am- 
 monia is present, as is evident from the ammoniacal 
 smell which they exhale on the addition of lime to the 
 solution. Frequently, too, they contain a portion of 
 iron. 
 
 The knowledge of the composition of this salt, enables 
 us better to understand the nature of the processes by 
 which it is prepared. These vary considerably accord- 
 ing to the nature of the substance from which it is pro- 
 cured. This substance is usually a kind of slate, which, 
 from affording this product, has received the name of 
 alum ore, or alum slate, and which contains the elements 
 necessary to the formation of aluiTi in a more or less 
 perfect state. 
 
 The following is the process followed at the celebra- 
 ted alum works of Tolfa : — ^The ore is blown up with 
 gunpowder: it is separated from the pieces of the rock 
 that adhere to it : it is calcined in furnaces, nearly in the 
 same manner as lime is burned : in six or seven hours, 
 being sufficiently calcined and friable, it is taken out, 
 and laid on pavements of a long shape, surrounded 
 with walled trenches: on these it is laid in heaps of 
 a moderate height, which are watered for forty days 
 with water from the trenches. The ore being thus de- 
 composed, it is boiled in large cauldrons ; and when the 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 water is saturated to a certain point, it is poured into the. 
 crystallizing pans ; where, after it is cold, it deposits the 
 alum in large crystalline masses. Journal dca Mines, 
 No. 117. p. 179. 
 
 Alum is obtained in a different manner at Solfatcrra, 
 near Puzzuola. Here nature acts synthetically. Fumes 
 pregnant with sulphurous and sulphuric acid, are con- 
 tinually issuing from little crevices in the volcanic soil 
 of this place ; the former of which deposit a concrete 
 sulphur; the second gradually penetrate the ancient la- 
 vas, which are of an argillaceous nature, combine with 
 their alumine, and thus form an alum ore, whicii after- 
 wards affords by lixiviation and crystallization a very pure 
 alum. 
 
 In other varieties of alum ore the process is different. 
 Those which are hard, and contain much pyrites or sul- 
 phuret of iron, require to be roasted or calcined. Those 
 which are softer require merely exposure to air and hu- 
 midity. The ore is placed in large heaps, sloping to a 
 ridge like the roof of a house, and left exposed to the 
 open air for a year or more. When its decomposition, 
 which is particularly promoted by damp air, is suffi- 
 ciently advanced, it is distributed mto long ffat troughs, 
 and lixiviated. When the water is sufficiently satura- 
 ted with the salts, which are sulphate of alumuie and 
 sulphate of iron, it is carried to the manufactory, and 
 boiled in leaden cauldrons, till the proof liquor taken 
 out becomes, on cooling, a crystalline mass of the con- 
 sistence of honey. During the long boiling of the lixi- 
 vium, the greater part of the sulphate of iron is de- 
 composed, the iron passes to a higher degree of oxyda- 
 tion, in which state so much of it cannot be dissolved 
 in sulphuric acid, and it is deposited in the form 
 of brown oxyde. When the lixivium is sufficiently 
 boiled down, it is carried to the settling troughs, and as 
 soon as it has grown clear by standing a little, it is drawn 
 off into other troughs, where it is mixed with the quantity 
 of potash necessary for making it into alum. 
 
 In the process which is followed at Whitby, the ore is 
 laid in large heaps, and burned with wood or thorns, un- 
 til it be white ; or it is sometimes burned by rearing a 
 pile of the ore, and of coal, in alternate layers, kindling 
 it at the bottom. When it is sufficiently calcined, it is 
 put into a pit, about ten feet long, six feet broad, and five 
 feet deep, where it is macerated in water for eight or 
 ten hours ; the ley is then drawn off into a large cistern, 
 or reservoir, and afresh quantity of water is put on the 
 calcined ore in the pit. This after some time having 
 acquired a sensible but weaker saline impregnation than 
 the former, is likewise run off into the cistern. From 
 this the layer is conveyed into pans, where it is kept 
 boiling for twenty-four hours. There is then added to 
 it a ley prepared from k-c/p; and after some time, the li- 
 quor is drawn off into a vessel, where it may settle, or 
 the impurities subside. When clear, it is i-un into 
 coolers, where it is allowed to remain about four days 
 and nights, and a quantity of putrid urine, in the propor- 
 tion of about eight gallons to a ton of liquor, is added. 
 The alum crystallizes; the residual liquor is removed, 
 and mixed with the liquor obtained from a fresh quan- 
 tity of materials which is to be evaporated. The crys- 
 tallized alum is washed, the water being allowed to drain 
 from it: it is melted in a pan; it is, while liquid, con- 
 veyed into tuns, in which it is allowed to remain about 
 ten days, so as to become fully concrete. The tuns arc 
 unhooped, and the large masses of alum broken down, 
 and stored for the market. 
 
 4 B
 
 562 
 
 ALUM. 
 
 In the prepaialion of alum at lord Duudas's works, in 
 Yorkshire, muriate ol' potash is added instead ol kelp. 
 The proportion employed is about 4icwt. lor every tun 
 of alum produced. 
 
 Alum being thus obtained from these mineral sub- 
 stances, it is obviously an interesting subject to discover 
 then- composition, wlietlier mey contain it ready formed, 
 or only its elements; and whether these are present in 
 the proportioiis and combinations most favourable to its 
 production. This has accordingly engaged the attention 
 of Kiaproth and Vauciuelin. 
 
 Kiaproth analysed the alum-stone of Tolfa, and found 
 that, in its natural state, it contains the three essential 
 constituent principles of alum; sulphuric acid, argil, and 
 potash. Its ingredients and their proportions were 
 sile.\ 56.5, argil 19, sulphuric acid 16.5, potash 4, water 
 3. The same ingredients had been discovered in it by 
 Vau(iuelin in proportions somewhat different. The 
 aluin-earth olFreienwald, that which affords alum by the 
 third process above described, Kiaproth found to be of a 
 very different composition. It appears to consist essen- 
 tially of sulphur and carbon, with argil, and saline sub- 
 stances having a base of potash. The results, as stated 
 by this chemist, are, sulphur 38.5, carbon 196.5, argil 
 160, silex 400, oxide of iron, with a trace of manganese, 
 64, sulphate of iron 18, sulphate of lime 15, n^agnesia 
 2.5, sulphate of potash 15, muriate of potash 5, water 
 107.5. This sul)stance is peculiar, as not containing 
 the sulphur in combination with iron, but, as Kiaproth 
 supposes, combined with carbon. It becomes oxygeni- 
 zed from exposure to the air, and thus forms the sulphu- 
 ric acid which combines witii the argil, and this receiv- 
 ing potash from the sulphate and muriate of potash, the 
 alum is formed. 
 
 The varieties of aluminous slate which, by calcina- 
 tion, and subsequent exposure to air and humidity, af- 
 ford alum, appear to consist of the usual e.irthy ingre- 
 dients of slate, — silex, argil, and perhaps magnesia, 
 with sulphate of iron; or it may be regarded as a slate 
 impregnated with pyrites, or sulphuret of iron. The 
 calcination is of utility in disposing the sulphuret of 
 iron to oxygenation from the action of the atmospheric 
 air, and of water ; by die exposure, oxygen is absorbed, 
 arid the sulphur is converted into sulphuric acid ; this 
 may in part combine with the argil, but it is not impro- 
 bable, that its combination is at first principally with the 
 oxide of iron. The sulphate of iron, by long exposure, 
 absorbs oxygen ; the oxide, which is its base, passes to 
 a higher state of oxidation, and in this state exerts a 
 less energetic action on the sulphuric acid ; it is there- 
 fore more easily attracted by the argil ; and by these 
 successive changes, the whole of it, or nearly so, may at 
 length be combined with that earth. In the natural 
 formation of almn, which takes place slowly in some fos- 
 sils of this kind, we accordingly find the alum in various 
 degrees of intermixture with sulphate of iron, that in 
 which the process is farthest advanced being probably 
 most free from it. These slates must also contain a 
 quantity of potash ; a substance, which it is now suffi- 
 ciently established, is frequently found in the mineral 
 kingdom. From the practice, however, in the alum 
 manufacture, of adding a proportion of potash to the li- 
 quor previous to crystallization, it appears not to exist 
 in the slate in the full proportion necessary to convert 
 the whole sulphate of argil into the triple salt which 
 forms alum. The manufacturers have found, that it is 
 equally advantageous to employ sulphate of potash, or 
 
 muriate of potash, to contribute to the formation of the 
 alum; and tliese salts benig products of various chemi- 
 cal processes, and being scarcely applicable to any other 
 uselul purpose, arc economically employed. The one, 
 the sulphate of potash, is obtained in the manulaciurc 
 of aquafortis ; the other, the muriate of potash, from the 
 residual liquor in the manufacture of soap. The manu- 
 facturers prefer the muriate to the sulphate of potash, 
 for which a very good reason has been assigned. The 
 principal impurity to which alum is liable, and which it 
 is an object of importance to avoid as mucli as possible, 
 is from the presence of iron, in the state of sulphate of 
 iron. When muriate of potash is added, the potash, 
 uniting with the sulphuric acid and argil, enters into 
 the composition of the alum ; while the muriatic acid 
 unites with the oxide of iron, retains it in solution, and 
 forms an uncrystallizable salt, which remains in the mo- 
 ther water. The kelp employed at Wiiitby cannot be 
 considered as operating by the soda which it contahis ; 
 for this alkali Bergman found to be ol no utility in pro- 
 moting the crystallization of alum, but probably by tlie 
 sulphate and muriate of potash which exist in it. The 
 urine which is used must furnish that variety of alunn. 
 which contains ammonia. 
 
 It appears that when jircumstances are favourable, a 
 natural formation of alum takes place, from some varie- 
 ties of aluminous or bituminous slate. A remarkable 
 example of this kind is to be found in the Hurlett mine, 
 or pit, near Glasgow, from which witliin these few years 
 a very large quantity of alum has been procured. A 
 brief account is given of it in the 16th volume of Nichol- 
 son's Journal. In this coal mine, a stratum of slate or 
 shale, about ten inches thick, placed above the coal, has 
 been exposed to the action of the atmosphere above 
 200 years, the mine having been open during that pe^ 
 riod; it is protected by situation from the infiltration of 
 much water. Under these favourable circumstances, 
 the natural formation of alum has taken place to a con- 
 siderable extent, and it is found disseminated in silky- 
 like filaments, and even in congeries of small crystals, 
 in the interstices of the shale, accompanied with sul- 
 phate of iron. It is extracted by lixiviation, along with 
 a portion of sulpiiatc of iron, which has been formed by 
 the same natural process. The ley is evaporated, and 
 the sulphate of iron is removed as much as possible, by 
 priority of crystallization; muriate of potash is then 
 added, probably with the view of preventing the impu- 
 rity of the alum from the presence of iron, by the ope- 
 ration already explained. The ley is lastly evaporated to 
 the specific gravity 1.450, and is set aside to crystallize. 
 
 The presence of sulphate of iron in this natural for- 
 mation, renders it probable, according to the view stated 
 above, that alum has been formed from the oxygenation, 
 by the gradual action of the atmosphere, of the sulphu- 
 ret of iron or pyrites contained in the shale, the sulphu- 
 ric acid of which has been transferred to the argil. And 
 as the salt exists ready formed and crystallized, a por- 
 tion of potash must also be contained in this particular 
 variety of slate. 
 
 A manufacture of alum was established by Chaptal in 
 France, in which it was formed by the direct combina- 
 tion of its principles, pure clay being exposed to the va- 
 pours of sulphuric acid; and sulphate of potash being 
 added to the ley obtained by washing the materials after 
 a certain period. This may afford a pure alum, but the 
 process must be more expensive than the indirect modes 
 by which the alum is usually procured.
 
 AMA 
 
 AMA 
 
 563 
 
 We have entered on these details with regard to the 
 extraction and manufacture of this salt, as it is one of 
 consideiable impoitancc in some of the manufactures 
 of this country; and there is reason to believe, that 
 there are many situations in whicli the preparation of it 
 might be successfully conducted. Its jjarticuiar chemi- 
 cal properties, will, with more propriety, be considered 
 luiderits history in the article Chemistry. 
 
 There arc several varieties of alum, it has been men- 
 tioned, to be found in commerce, some of which are pre- 
 ferred to others for particular purposes. The English 
 alum is in large irregular masses, of a crystalline struc- 
 ture, transparent and colourless. The rock alum is in 
 small pieces, covered with an efflorescence of a reddish 
 colour. The Roman alum is in fragments, having an 
 irregular crystalline form, opake from efflorescence, 
 and has been considered the purest of any. The differ- 
 ences among these have been very imperfectly investi- 
 gated. The English alum has been said to have a more 
 sensible impregnation of iron than tl\c others ; and hence 
 its inferiority in the art of dyeing in the composition of 
 some of the more delicate colours. The rock alum, 
 from its colour, may be suspected to contain a slight im- 
 pregnation of cobalt or manganese. 
 
 The principal consumption of alum is in the arts of 
 dyeing and calico printing. It is one of the most power- 
 ful of the mordants, or substances which either modify 
 the tint from colouring materials, or render the colour 
 more permanent. It also enters into the composition of 
 lakes or pigments. It is used in the art of tanning; is 
 added to tallow to give it greater hardness in the manu- 
 facture of candles ; and is employed for various purposes 
 in the practice of medicine. (A) 
 
 ALUM Slate, a species of the clay-slate family. 
 See Oryctognosv. (r) 
 
 ALUM Stone, a species of the clay family. See 
 Oryctognosv. ()) 
 
 ALUM Earth, a sub-species of the brown coal spe- 
 cies. See Oryctognosv and Geognosy, (r) 
 
 ALURNUS, in Zoology, a small genus of coleopte- 
 rous insects very little known. See Entomology. [J') 
 
 ALYSSUM, or Madwort, a genus of plants of the 
 class Tetradynamia, and order Siliculosse. See Botany. 
 
 AMACK. Sec Amak. 
 
 AMADAN, or Hamadan, supposed by some to be 
 the ancient Jicbata/ia, is one of the principal cities of 
 the province of Ira Ajemi, in Persia. It is situated, ac- 
 cording to Hanway, on the N. W. of the Elwend moun- 
 tains, on the road from Mecca to the northern parts of 
 Asia. The surrounding country is fertile in corn and 
 rice ; and the air is uncommonly salubrious, tiiough the 
 cold is exceedingly intense in winter. On account of 
 the delightful situation of Amadan, the Persian kings 
 used to retire to it in summer, from which it obtained 
 the name of the Royal City. This city is remarkable 
 for its gardens and numerous springs, and for many 
 beautiful mausolea. Among these is the mausoleum of 
 the sheik Abou-A'ly-Cyna, the celebrated Arabian phy- 
 sician, who is better known by the name of Avicenna. 
 E. Long. 48° 2'. N Lat. 05" IS' 20". See Travels to 
 Mecca, by Abdoul-Kerim, translated into French by 
 Langles and Hanway, vol. i. p. 163. {0) 
 
 AMADEUS v., count of Savoy, succeeded to the 
 sovereignty in 1285. He acquired the surname of "The 
 Great," by his valour and success ; particularly by his 
 gallant defence of Rhodes against the Turks in 1311. 
 
 This island was at that time considered as the barrier 
 of Christendom against the inlidels; and the histories 
 of that period are full of the praises of Aniadcus, for his 
 heroic defence of tliis inipoi-tani station. In memory of 
 tills event, he and his successors assumed for their de- 
 vice these lour letters, F. E. R. T. the initials of the 
 Latin words ^^ Forlitudo ejus Hhodum tcnuit." — "His 
 valour preserved Rliodes." He died in 1323, after a 
 reign of 38 years. He was beloved and respected by 
 all the sovereigns of Europe, and was generally the me- 
 diator in their differences. Mod. Univ. Hist. vol. xxxiv. 
 p. 16. (.§■) 
 
 AMADEUS VIII., count of Savoy, succeeded to the 
 sovereignty in 1591. He was called the "Pacific," and 
 " the Solomon of the age." He was certainly a most 
 singidar character. He was completely devoted to plea- 
 sure ; but not choosing to expose his gratifications to 
 the profane eyes of the world, he retired to the luxu- 
 rious retreat of Ripaille, under the pretence of religious 
 seclusion. In this retirement, whilst he and his asso- 
 ciates, (whom he had formed into what he called the 
 religious order of St Maurice,) were devoted solely to 
 sensual gratifications, he acquired so great fame for 
 sanctity abroad, that he thought himself qualified to as- 
 pire to the papacy. Accordingly, though he had never 
 taken holy orders, he was elected pope by the council of 
 Basil, which had deposed Eugene IV. Europe beheld 
 with astonishment this extraordinary election, and a 
 schism was the consequence. Amadeus, who had taken 
 the name of Felix V., was excommunicated by Eugene, 
 to whom the greater part of Europe still adhered. 
 Amadeus not finding himself very comfortalile in his 
 new dignity, was induced on the death of Eugene to 
 resign his pretensions. He made, however, a veiy pro- 
 fitable compromise ; he was appointed cardinal bishop 
 and apostolical legate, and was allowed to retain most 
 of the pontifical insignia. He died in 1451, at the age 
 of 69. See Fleuri Hist. Ecclcsiast. tom. xv. p. 75 — 97. 
 Hist, dcs Pa/ies, tom. iv. p. 126 — 128. (,§■) 
 
 AMADEUS IX., the grandson of the former, suc- 
 ceeded his father Lewis in 1464. Though of a very 
 feeble bodily constitution, he acquired nevertheless the 
 surname of the " Happy," from his equanimity and his 
 love of piety and justice. One day a foreign minister 
 asked him whether he kept hounds. " A great many," 
 answered he, " and if you will visit me to-morrow you 
 shall see them." The minister came accordingly ; and 
 Amadeus leading him to a window which looked into a 
 large square, " There," said he, pointing to a great 
 number of poor people, who were seated at tables, eat- 
 ing and drinking, " are my hounds with whom I go in 
 chase of heaven." He died in 1472, aged 37, after a 
 reign of seven years. Mod. Univ. Hist. vol. xxxiv. 
 p. 82. (.§■) 
 
 AMAK, a small island situated on the south of Co- 
 penhagen, to which it is connected bv a bridge at Chris- 
 tianshaven. This island is inhabited by the descendants 
 of a colony of Dutchmen from East Friesland, who were 
 settled there in I0I6, by the queen of Christiern II., 
 who was niece to Margaret, governess of the Low 
 Countries. The object of this settlement was to supply 
 Copenhagen with vegetables, cheese, and butter; and 
 such has been the industry of the colonists in cultivating 
 the soil, that it now supplies the islands of Zealand and 
 Funen with these articles. From the intermarriages of 
 the colonists with the Danes, their language is a mix- 
 ture of low Dutch and Danish; though, in otlier respects, 
 4 B 2
 
 564. 
 
 AMA 
 
 AMA 
 
 they retain tlic original dress and manners of the colo- 
 ny. Tiic island is about two miles lonj^, and a mile 
 broad, and contains above 3000 inhabitants, {o) 
 
 AMALAHIC, one of the kings of the Visigoths. At 
 the age of five years he succeeded to the throne of his 
 father Alaric II., but the sovereignty being usurped by 
 his natural brother Gensalaic, he was compelled to fly 
 for shelter to Spain. His grandtather Theodoric, king 
 of the Ostrogoths, took up arms in defence of the infant 
 king; expelled the usurper from the throne, and charged 
 himself with the government of the Visigoths, till his 
 death in 526 left the tlirone vacant for Amalaric. The 
 attachment of Amalaric to the cause and doctrines of 
 Arius, proved the ruin of this unfortunate prince. His 
 wife Clotilda, daughter of Clovis, king of France, having 
 inherited the orthodox principles of her mother, resisted 
 every attempt that was made by her husband, to instil 
 into her the opinions of Arius. Enraged at the obsti- 
 nacy of Clotilda, Amalaric at last resorted to violent 
 means : but the patience of the queen was now exhaust- 
 ed, and being no longer able to suffer in silence the un- 
 manly treatment of her husliand, she applied for assist- 
 ance to her brother Childibcrt, king of France, and sent 
 him a handkerchief stained with her blood, to testify 
 the brutal violence of Amalaric. The French king in- 
 vaded the territories of the Visigoths with a powerful 
 army, defeated Amalaric, and entered Narbonne, the 
 residence of his court. The vanquished monarch took 
 refuge in his fleet, but imprudently returned to the city 
 to recover the treasures which he had left. The enemy 
 having just entered Narbonne, compelled him to retreat 
 into a catholic church, where he was stabbed by a com- 
 mon soldier in 531. According to some historians, he 
 fled into Spain after his defeat, and died a natural death 
 at Barcelona. See Mod. Univ. Hist. vol. xvi. p. 10. (o) 
 
 AMALASONTHA, queen of Italy, and daughter of 
 Theodoric, king of the Ostrogoths, was distinguished 
 by her talents and virtues, as well as by the misfortunes 
 which marked her short and unhappy reign. She was 
 born in 1498, and was married in 1515 to Eutharic, the 
 last descendant of the Amali, who was destined by Theo- 
 doric to succeed him in the throne of the Ostrogoths. In 
 consequence of the premature death of Eutharic, Ama- 
 lasontha was left with the charge of her infant son Atha- 
 laric, whose early education she watched with the most 
 affectionate concern. Upon the death of Theodoric in 
 1526, Amalasontha was left the guardian of her son, and 
 regent of the kingdom of Italy. The abilities of Ama- 
 lasontha were admirably fitted for this important charge. 
 The natural talents which she had inherited from her 
 father were improved by the most liberal education, and 
 a deep acquaintance with the human heart, as well as 
 with the philosophy and sciences of the age, inspired 
 her with a vigour and intrepidity of mind, which were 
 worthy of a more brilliant reign. Her knowledge of 
 the Greek, Latin, and Gothic languages, which she 
 spoke with equal fluency and elegance, prompted her 
 to advance the interests of learning, and to court the 
 society of its friends. Cassiodorus, the Calabrian, one 
 of the most distinguished literary characters of the age, 
 was placed at the head of her government; the salaries 
 of the public teachers were regularly paid, and the chil- 
 dren of Boetius, the philosopher, were restored to the 
 inheritance of which they had been unjustly deprived. 
 By such means Amalasontha revived the prosperity of 
 her father's reign; and while she imitated the virtues, 
 and protected the wise institutions of Theodoric, she 
 
 strove to atone for the errors of his government, and to 
 remove the restrictions which, in the declhie of age and 
 of judgment, he had imposed upon his people. 
 
 At peace with surrounding nations, and happy in the 
 affection of her subjects, Amalasontha devoted the 
 whole of her attention to the education of her infant son. 
 She placed him under the charge of three learned 
 Goths, to inspire him with the virtues that were suitable 
 to a prince, and to instruct him in the sciences that were 
 useful for the management of a kingdom ; but the ob- 
 stinate temper of Athalaric required a severity of disci- 
 pline which the good sense and affection of his mother 
 compelled her to exercise. When the boy had one day 
 been punished by his mother, he escaped from her apart- 
 ment into a public meeting of the Goths, in the palace 
 of Ravenna, and with tears in his eyes complained of 
 the harshness with which he was treated. The sympa- 
 thy of the barbarians was excited : They charged the 
 queen regent with a design against the life of her son, 
 and dragged the prince from beneath the wing of his 
 parent. Athalaric, being thus liberated from every 
 restraint, abandoned himself to the most licentious ex- 
 travagance, and took every opportunity of harassing the 
 feelings, and thwarting the measures, of the queen. 
 
 The happiness of Amalasontha being thus at the mer- 
 cy of an unfeeling faction, she determined to throw her- 
 self under the protection of Justinian ; but her proud 
 spirit could not, upon reflection, brook such a humiliat- 
 ing surrender, and she made one bold effort to recover 
 her authority. Three of the most active partisans of 
 Athalaric, who had been imprisoned on the frontiers of 
 Italy, were assassinated by her command ; and though 
 this daring measure re-established her authority, it did 
 not extinguish the hostility and discontent of her sub- 
 jects. At this dangerous crisis, the death of Athalaric, 
 who fell a victim to intemperance, completed the ruin of 
 Amalasontha. Deprived by law of all share in the go- 
 vernment, she conceived the project of uniting with her 
 cousin Theodotus in the usurpation of the supreme pow- 
 er, and Cassiodorus announced to the emperor and the 
 senate, that Amalasontha and Theodotus were hence- 
 forth to fill the Italian throne. The weak mind of Theo- 
 dotus being easily wrought upon by the enemies of the 
 queen, he was instigated to imprison her in a small 
 island in the lake Bolsena, where after a short confine- 
 ment she was strangled in the bath, (A. D. 535.) See 
 Gibbon's Hist. vol. vii. p. 206. {fi) 
 
 AMALEKITES, a powerful people of Arabia Petraea, 
 are generally considered as the descendants of Amalek, 
 the son of Elephaz, and grandson of Esau. (Gen. xxxvi. 
 12. 16.) It is not easy, however, to conceive how they 
 could have become a numerous tribe in the space of 
 two generations ; and how they should have been so for- 
 midable to the Israelites, who were the offspring of Ja- 
 cob, the brother of Esau, and consequently had increas- 
 ed for two generations before the birth of Amalek. Be- 
 sides, Moses speaks of the Amalekites in the time of 
 Abraham. {Gen. xiv. 7.) They are always mentioned 
 too, in conjunction with the Canaanites and Philistines, 
 and not with the Edomites, who were the general off- 
 spring of Esau. It is much more likely, therefore, that 
 the Amalekites, according to the Arabian account, 
 were descended from a grandson of Noah, named Ama- 
 lek ; and that there were different tribes of that name. 
 One of the most numerous and warlike of these tribes 
 was peculiarly hostile to the Israelites in their progress 
 from Egypt to Canaan. Scarcely had the latter passed
 
 AMA 
 
 AMA 
 
 505 
 
 the Red Sea, when these inhabitants of the desert cut 
 off the straggling and fatigued. The Israelites found 
 it necessai-y, therefore, to prepare themselves for repel- 
 ling these attacks. After being formed and disciplined 
 as an army, they gave battle to the Amalckites ; and by 
 the good conduct of Joshua, they gained a complete 
 victory. {Exod. xvii. 12. — Joseph. Aiituj. 1. iii. c. 2.) 
 The same people began to oppress the Israelites under 
 the Judges, but were defeated and driven back by Gi- 
 deon. [Judg.m.. 15.) Saul at length fully avenged the 
 injuries which they had committed against his people, 
 and cut oft' the greater part of the Amalekiles in the 
 neighbourhood of Canaan. (1 ^am. xv.) A few bands 
 of those who had escaped this destruction, afterwards 
 attacked and pillaged Ziklag, wiicre David had left his 
 family and substance ; but he came up with them, dis- 
 persed their party, and retook the spoil. (1 Sam. xxx. 
 I, 2.) After this, there is no farther mention of them 
 made in history. See Caimet's Diet. Anialck ; and Jo- 
 sephus, ylnlig. Jud. lib. vi. c. 8. Lib. iii. c. 2. (17) 
 
 AMALFI, or Amalphi, a sea-port town on the west 
 coast of the Gulf of Salerno, about 7 miles west of the 
 town of Salerno, and 30 miles south of Naples. The 
 history of its origin is somewhat obscure ; but the most 
 general opinion is, that about the middle of the fourth 
 century, a number of families having sailed from Rome 
 for Constantinople, were driven by a tempest to the 
 shores of Salerno; and being afraid again to encounter 
 the perils of the ocean, they resolved to settle on the 
 coast to which they had escaped, and founded the city of 
 Amalfi. The territory which they occupied around it, 
 though exceedingly fertile, was of narrow extent; but 
 the sea was open before them, and they availed them- 
 selves of the advantages of their situation. By carrying 
 on an extensive trade to the East, with whose produc- 
 tions and manufactures they supplied the western world, 
 they soon rose to such a height of opulence and reputa- 
 tion, as excited the envy of their neighbours, and pro- 
 voked their hostility. About the year 825, an epidemical 
 disorder had raged at Salerno, and had so thinned its 
 population, that Sico, its prince, marched a body of 
 troops to Amalfi ; and, surprising it by night, carried off 
 the greater number of its inhabitants to his own city, to 
 supply the place of those who had fallen victims to the 
 plague. It was not long till this outrage was amply re- 
 venged ; for, while the chiefs of Salerno were absent 
 on an expedition, the Amalfitans rose in arms, and, after 
 sacking and burning the city of their oppressors, march- 
 ed back in triumph to Amalfi. Their first care, after 
 returning to their own country, was to new-model their 
 constitution, to frame a better code of laws, and to adopt 
 such regulations as might most effectually ensure the 
 safety and prosperity of their commonwealth. Amalfi 
 now rose to the summit of its glory ; acquired the dig- 
 nity of an archiepiscopal city ; and for its zeal against 
 the infidels, received from Pope Leo IV. the distin- 
 guishing title of Defender of the Faith. The whole trade 
 of the Levant passed into their hands, and their naval 
 reputation was so high, that the emperor of Constanti- 
 nople established at Amalfi a court for the decision of 
 all maritime disputes, whose codes and decrees became 
 of general authority. To the ingenuity or the good 
 fortune of the inhabitants of Amalfi, is ascribed the dis- 
 covery of the mariner's comfiass, which, giving more 
 boldness to their adventurous spirit, enabled them to 
 extend their trade to the coasts of Africa, Arabia, and 
 India. In this period of meridian splendour, their walls 
 
 contained 50,000 inhabitants ; and in Arabia, Antioch, 
 Jerusalem, and Alexandria, they formed settlements 
 which acquired the privileges of independent colonies. 
 Under the patronage of St John ol Jerusalem, an order 
 of knighthood was established at Amalfi, the members 
 of which were afterwards called Knights of Rhodes, 
 and have since become celebrated as the Knights of 
 Malta. To the honour of these traders, it is recorded, 
 that they made use of the influence which their com- 
 mercial greatness gave them with the nuissulmen, to 
 erect at the caliph's court, (A. D. 1026,) two small hos- 
 pitals, and a chapel, for the use of votaries coming from 
 the west of Europe. 
 
 The distinguished prosperity of the Amalfitans natu- 
 rally created many enemies; Ijutthe intervention of the 
 holy war gave them a temporary respite from their as- 
 saults. At length, after three hundred years of happi- 
 ness and glory, it was overwhelmed by the power of the 
 Normans, who abolislied every trace of its republican 
 constitution. From that hour wliich destroyed its liber- 
 ties, its grandeur declined, and its power was rapidly 
 diminished. Tlie Pisans, who had long regarded it with 
 an eye of jealousy, now attacked it in its feeble state, 
 and pillaged it without mercy. On this occasion, the 
 conquerors are said to have obtained possession of the 
 Pandects, a copy of the code which was formed by Jus- 
 tinian I. The ruin of Amalfi was completed by the 
 alienation of its lordship to feudal proprietors. It was 
 first granted to Colonna, brother to Pope Martin V. ; 
 next to the Sanseverini; then to the Orini; and, lastly, 
 to Picoioniini, with the title of duke. 
 
 At present, Amalfi scarcely retains any trace of its 
 ancient grandeur. Its inhabitants, not more than 4000 
 in number, are miserably poor. Its buildings are mean ; 
 and, except the ruins of a cathedral, an arsenal, and the 
 palaces of some of its ancient merchants, nothing re- 
 mains to form any contrast with the poverty of the fisher- 
 men by whom it is now occupied. See Gibboii, v. x. p. 
 280. and Swinburne's Travels., v. iii. p. 220. [k) 
 
 AMALGAM, is a chemical term applied to the com- 
 bination of quicksilver with another metal. The amal- 
 gam is of course various with regard to its consistence 
 or solidity, according to the proportion of quicksilver 
 which enters into its composition, and is very different 
 in its properties according to the metal with which the 
 quicksilver is combined. See Chemistry. (6) 
 
 AMALGAM, Natural, a species of the family of 
 Native Silver. For an account of the species, and a 
 vindication of this arrangement, see Oryctognosy. (r) 
 
 AMALTHEA, the name of the Cumsean Sibyl, who 
 sold nine books of Prophecies to Tarquin the Proud. 
 She has also been called Hierophile and Dcmophile. 
 See Aldus Gellius, i. 19. Plitiy, xiii. 13. Varro. — Tibull. 
 ii. el. 5. v. 67. See also Sibyl, (tw) 
 
 AMALTHEO, the name of three brothers, who were 
 all distinguished in Italy as Latin and Italian poets. They 
 were the sons of Francesco Amaltheo, Professor of 
 Belles Lettres at Sacile, and flourished about the middle 
 of the sixteenth centuiy. 
 
 Girolamo, or Jerome, was born at Oderzo, in the 
 Trevisan, in 1506. His father instructed him in the 
 Latin and Greek languages, as well as in the arts and 
 sciences of the times ; and such was his progress in 
 these studies, that he was soon created doctor of philo- 
 sophy and medicine in the university of Padua. In the 
 26lh year of his age (1532,) he was appointed to teach 
 medicine in that seminary, and in the following year he
 
 566 
 
 AiMxV 
 
 AMA 
 
 was chosen IccUircr on moral jjliilosopliy. In this siiua- 
 tion, however, he did not continue long. He returned 
 toOderzo, and in 1536 settled as a physician in Cencda, 
 ironi which he removed to Serravalle in 1539. Here his 
 reputation was so great, that in 1542 he was solicited 
 by the (jueen ol' Poland to be her physician; but he de- 
 clined this honour, and continued in the exercise of his 
 profession at Serravalle. The infirmities oi age had now 
 begun to render the duties of a physician too laborious, 
 and he therefore deternuned to retire in 1558 to his na- 
 tive city, where he died on the 13lh September, 1574, in 
 the 67th year of his age, amid the regrets of all who 
 knew him. His fellow citizens were so sensible of his 
 talents and virtues, that they erected a monument to his 
 memory, with the following epitaph : 
 
 HiERONYMO AmALTHEO, 
 CoNSUMMAT.« PeRITI^E, 
 
 Medico et PoeTjE, 
 Alteri Apollini, 
 
 CiVES OPITEKGINI 
 P. P. 
 
 Muretus, in a letter to Lambinus, considers Amalthco 
 as the best Italian poet and physician that was then alive. 
 His (iiganloinachia has been much admired ; and the fol- 
 lowing epigram on " Aeon and Lconilla" has been highly 
 praised : 
 
 Liimine Aeon dextro, capta est Leonilla sinistro ; 
 Kt poterat forma vincere (iterque Divos 
 Parve puer, lumen quod habes concede sorori ; 
 Sic tu c<ecus Amor, sic erlt ilia Venus. 
 
 The following translation, which may be acceptable 
 to many of our readers, conveys the meaning though 
 not the point of the original : 
 
 Of the i-iglit eye fair Aeon was l)ercft. 
 
 And Leonillaloo had lost the left ; 
 
 Yet beauty, greater than the gods can show, 
 
 Sn)ilcd on their clierub cheeks witb heavenly glow. 
 
 Then, lovely Aeon, do not now deny 
 
 To Leonilla tliy heart-piercing eye ; 
 
 Tliat liiou blind Cupid, by the gift, may prove, 
 
 And she may stand confessed the Queen of Love. 
 
 Giambatista, or John Baptist Amaltheo, was born at 
 Oderzo, in the year 1525. He studied at Padua, and 
 made such an early and rapid progress in the belles 
 iettrcs, and in the Latin and Greek languages, that he 
 has received the highest encomiums from the most cele- 
 brated writers, and has been honoured with a place in 
 Scultetus's Tcatro dell' erudita Gioventii, " Theatre of 
 learned young men." In 1 546, he was called to Venice 
 to instruct the youth of the noble family of Lippomana. 
 It appears, however, from his letters, that he left this 
 situation about 1550, when he went to Milan; and that 
 in 1554, he accompanied the Venetian ambassador Mi- 
 chele to England. In 1560, he was made secretary to 
 the republic of Ragusa. In 1561, he returned to 
 Venice ; and in the same year he went to Rome, at the 
 request of his friend Paulus Manutius. Here his lite- 
 rary reputation obtained him universal notice ; and he 
 was appointed to many lucrative places and pensions, 
 which he enjoyed till the day of his death. He was 
 rnade a Roman citizen ; secretary to Pius IV. ; a knight 
 of the order of Jesus Christ ; and secretary to the car- 
 dinals deputed to the council of Trent. Being seized 
 with catarrh, he died at Rome, in the month of February 
 ) 573. He wrote eclogues, elegies, and epigrams, both 
 
 in the Latin and Italian language. lie began a traged) , 
 called Ino ; and his letters are published in the Raccot- 
 ta dille Lettere Votgari di divcrni Venez. 1567. 
 
 Cornelio Amaltheo was also a good Latin poet. He 
 was employed along with Paulus Manutius, and Poggia- 
 no, to reduce the Roman Catechism into pure Latin. 
 
 The poems of these three brothers have been collec- 
 ted in the Dt-lilix Pociurum Ilalorum ; and have also 
 been published separately, under the title of Trhun Fra- 
 truin Amall/ifoniin Curiniiiu. Venet. 1627. (c/) 
 
 AMAND, Mark Anthony Gerard, Sieur de 
 Saint, a member of the French academy, and a cele- 
 brated French poet, was born at Rouen in 1594. His 
 father, whose surname was Geraril, served in the Eng- 
 lish navy during the reign of (|ueen Elizabeth, and com- 
 manded a squadron of her licet for 22 years. He was 
 admitted into the French academy at its establishment 
 in 1633 ; and in 1637, he obtained leave, at his own re- 
 quest, to be freed from the obligation of making an in- 
 troductory speech, on condition that he should collect 
 the grotesque and burlesque terms for the Dictionary 
 undertaken by the academy. Amand, as he himself in- 
 forms us, travelled during his youth in America and 
 Africa. He came to England in 1643, in the retinue of 
 count Harcourt, ambassador from the French court; but 
 we are not informed in what capacity he accompanied 
 the ambassador. In 1647, he sent a portion of his poem 
 called JMrjijse saux'e, or jSIonea Havvd, to Mary Louisa 
 Gonzago, queen of Poland, who was married in 1645 to 
 king Sigismond ; and in 1647, to Casimir, his brother 
 and successor. The Polish queen seems to have been 
 highly pleased with St Aniand's present, as he was, in 
 1641, by the interest of the .\bbe de IVfaroUes, appointed 
 gentleman in ordinary of the queen's chamber, with an 
 annual pension of 3000 livres. He immediately set out 
 for Poland, to occupy his new situation ; but he was 
 taken prisoner, and confined by the scouts of St Omer's; 
 so that he did not arrive in Poland till the year 1650. 
 Here St Amand remained only for a short time ; and, 
 from motives with which we are not actiuainted, he re- 
 turned to his native country in 1654, and spent the rest 
 of his days in the metropolis of France. From a pas- 
 sage in the first satire of Boileau, it would appear, that 
 the pension from the Polish queen was withdrawn from 
 St Amand : 
 
 Saint Amand n'eut du ciel que sa veine en partage, 
 L'habit qu"il eut sur lui fut son seul heritage : 
 Un lit et deux placets composoient tout son bien, 
 Ou, pour en mieux p.irler. Saint Amand n'avoit rien. 
 
 In the early part of his life, Amand abandoned himself 
 to the most licentious pleasures ; but he seems to have 
 been afterwards reformed, either from a conviction of his 
 errors, or from the penury of his circumstances. He 
 died at Paris in 1661, in the 67th year of his age. The 
 works published by Amand are, 1. Les Oeuvres de Si 
 Amand, 3 vols. Paris, 1627, 1643, 1649. 2. Stances sur 
 la Grosscsse de la Reine de Pologne et de Suede, 1650. 3. 
 Moijse Sau-ve,Idi/ue Henir/ue, Paris 1653, 1660. 4. Stan- 
 ces a M. Corneille sur son imitation de Jesus Christ. Paris, 
 1656 5. Rorne Ridicule. 6. A poem on T/ie Moon, in 
 which he complimented Louis XIV. on his skill in swim- 
 ming. The French king, it is said, could not bear to 
 hear this poem read ; a circumstance which so mortified 
 St Amand, that he died soon after. — See Hist, de PAcad. 
 Franc, par Pelisson, p. 101. ; and Olivet's edition, 1730, 
 p. 61. Ho^S.zz.w'^ReJiections Crit.sur Lmigin. z.'i. (o)
 
 AMA 
 
 AMA 
 
 567 
 
 AMARANTE, the name of an order of knigUllioocI, 
 institutLil in 165 J, by Christina queen ot Sweden. (71;) 
 
 AMARANTHUS, a genus of plants of the class Mo- 
 noecia and order Pentandi'ia. See Boiany. (nu) 
 
 AMARYLLIS, a genus of plants of the class Hexan- 
 dria and order Monogynia. See Botany, (to) 
 
 AM ASIA, Amasick, or x\mask a, the capital of Ama- 
 sia, a division of Asiatic Turkey. It is situated in the 
 midst of steep and rugged mountains, on the river Siii- 
 zilermak, or Jekil-Ermak, which empties itself into the 
 Black Sea. It is the residence of the governor of Cag- 
 herbag, and also of the eldest son of the grand signior, 
 till he is invited to the throne. The town is large and 
 populous, and still exhibits some remains of the magni- 
 ficence which it formerly derived, from being the seat of 
 the kings of Cappadocia. It is defended by a castle, 
 situated on the brink of a precipice. There is only one 
 mosque at Amasia, the greater part of the inhabitants 
 being Christians. The vines cultivated m the neigh- 
 bourhood furnish excellent wine, resembling sherry. 
 Tuis town is said to have given birth to the celebrated 
 Strabo, and aiso to the Ottoman emperor Selim I. Long. 
 36° 10' N. Lat. 40° 44'. (0) 
 
 AMASIAH, king of Judah, succeeded his father 
 Joash in tne 25th year of his age ; and in the year before 
 Christ 839. At the commencement of his reign, he 
 showed some reverence to divine authority; and when 
 he punished the murderers of his father, he spared 
 their families from a regard to the law of Moses, and 
 with a Clemency not very common in those times. [Deut. 
 xxiv. 16.) He soon became intoxicated by his great 
 power and brilliant successes against the Idumaeans, and 
 was so very infatuated, that he attached himself to the 
 idols of that conquered people. Before his expedition 
 into Edom, he had dismissed, by the advice of a prophet, 
 100,000 troops, whom he had hired from the king of 
 Israel ; and they considering their discharge as an in- 
 sult, ravaged his territories in a cruel manner, on their 
 return home. Returning victorious, and elated by his 
 conquests, he sought reparation for this offence, by 
 sending a haughty defiance to Joash, king of Israel. 
 This prince, equally proud of his power, and convinced 
 of his invinciljility, and having just concluded a very 
 successful war against the Syrians, held the king of 
 Judah in the utmost contempt ; and answered his chal- 
 lenge by a very sarcastic fable. (2 Kitigs, xiv. 9.) Ama- 
 ziah, swelling with indignation, hastened to the contest, 
 and met his enemy at Bethshemcsh. His troops were 
 struck with a panic at the first onset ; fled without 
 making any resistance, and left him a prisoner in the 
 hands of Joash. This conqueror, pursuing his victory, 
 marched straigiu to Jerusalem with his royal captive ; 
 plundered the palace and temple ; broke down a con- 
 siderable portion of the walls of the city ; and then left 
 the humbled Amasiah at liberty in his ruined capital. 
 About 15 years subsequent to this defeat, he was cutoff 
 by a conspiracy in tbc 29th year of his reign. — 2 A/«§-,s', 
 chap. xiv. 2 C/iron. xxiv. and xxv. Joseph. Antitj. 1. 
 ix. c. 10. jinc. Un. Hist. vol. iv. 1. 1. c. 7. (17) 
 
 AMASIS, a king of the Egyptians, began to reign in 
 the year before Christ 569. From the station of a com- 
 mon soldier, he became one of the principal officers in 
 the court of Apries. A number of the Egyptians having 
 rebelled against the authority of that prince, Amasis 
 was sent toappease the insurgents, and bring them back 
 to their allegiance. While he was addressing them, 
 according to his instructions, they placed a crown upon 
 
 his head, and pioflainied him king of Eg) pt. Amasis 
 accepted the dignity, put himself at their head, and was 
 soon joined by the greater part of his countiymcn. 
 Apries retired to Upper Egypt, where he maintained 
 hhnsclf for several years. In the meantime, Nebuchad- 
 nezzar, king of Babylon, taking advantage of these in- 
 tesiine divisions, hivaded Egypt with a powerful army, 
 overran the whole country, and at length, having entered 
 into a treaty with Amasis, left him as his deputy, in 
 possession ot the kingdom (A. C. 569.) Alter the de- 
 parture of the Babylonians, Apries collected a body of 
 troops, and attempted to recover the throne of Egypt ; 
 but was defeated, taken prisoner, and strangled by Ama- 
 sis. The new king, about the beginning of his reign, 
 was in danger ol being despised by his subjects on ac- 
 count of his low extraction ; but he speedily conciliated 
 their affections by his mild and beneficent conduct. It 
 is said also, that he removed their prejudices by the fol- 
 lowing device : He caused a golden vessel, in which he 
 was accustomed to wash his feet, to be moulded into the 
 statue of a divinity ; and, when the Egyptians were 
 paying their adorations to this idol, he reminded them, 
 that in tiie same manner as they worshijjped this statue 
 in its present form, though its materials had once com- 
 posed a vessel employed in the meanest services, so they 
 ought to respect him as their prince, though he had 
 formerly filled an obscure place among them. He 
 greatly improved and beautified the country of Egypt ; 
 and erected a magnificent temple to Isls. He is said to 
 have been the author of that law which Solon afterwards 
 borrowed from the Egyptians, and recommended to the 
 Athenians ; viz. That every person, under pain of death, 
 should annually state, before a magistrate, what was his 
 employment, and how he sulisisted. He continued to 
 reign in Egypt, highly respected and beloved by his sub- 
 jects, for the space of 44 years ; and died while Camby- 
 ses was preparing to invade his kingdom, in the year be- 
 fore Christ 526. Sec Hcrodot. 1. ii. Diod. Sicu/us. 1. i. 
 part ii. (</) 
 
 AMASONIA, or Amazons, a genus of plants of the 
 class Didynamia, and order Angiospermia. See Bota- 
 ny, (to) 
 
 AMATORII MuscuLi. See Anatomy. 
 
 AMAUROSIS, or Gutta Serena, from u/^xi^arii, 
 ob.icurath, a disease in the optic nerve, which prevents 
 it from conveying to the brain the impressions made 
 upon the retina, (to) 
 
 AMAZONS, originally called the Maragnon, a river 
 of South America, which takes its name from a race of 
 savages without beards, who inhabit its banks, and who 
 were at first regarded as women by the Europeans. It 
 is one of the largest in the world, and is distinguished by 
 the length of its course ; the number of its tributary 
 streams ; and the mass of waters wliich it rolls to the 
 sea. 
 
 From the latest accounts, it appears, that the primary- 
 stream is the Apurimac, which has its origin near the 
 town of Arequipa, in Peru, on the western side of the 
 lake Titicaca, and in Lat. 16° 3o' South. According to 
 UUoa, however, the Maragnon issues from the lake 
 Latii icocha, not far from the city of Guanuco, in Lat. 
 11" South, and about 90 miles from Lima. From the 
 lake Lauricocha, it runs towards tlie south ; and bending 
 eastwards through the country of Jauja, it passes on the 
 north of the city of Jaen. It then proceeds in its long 
 course towards the east, and falls into the Atlantic, after 
 a progress, which, including its different windings, is
 
 568 
 
 AMA 
 
 not less than 3300 miles. But as in a very early part of 
 its course, it is joined by the Apurimac,a river of much 
 greater size ; tiiis last is unquestionably to be considered 
 as the original and proper Maragnon. In its progress 
 towards the Atlantic, the river of the Amazons, besides 
 many smaller streams, receives from the nortli, the 
 Napo, the Izaparana, the Upura, and the united waters 
 of the Negro, and the Parima ; and from the south, the 
 Yavari, the Yutay, the Tcfi, the Puruz, and the great 
 iVIadcira, formed by the junction of the Marmori and 
 the Ytcnas. Many of these rivers have a course of 500 
 or 600 miles : and some of them are not inferior in point 
 of size to the Danube, or the Nile. The Maragnon 
 opens into the Atlantic almost under the equator ; it is 
 150 miles in breadth at its mouih ; and at the distance 
 of 1500 miles from the sea, it is nearly 40 fatnoms deep. 
 M. ue la Condaminc, who sailed down tliis river in the 
 year 1745, found that its descent, in a straight course of 
 I860 miles, was sbout 1020 English feet, or 6\ mches in 
 a mile. The tides are perceptible at the distance of 6U0 
 miles from its mouth ; but only at an elevation of 90 feet. 
 Pinkcrton's Geog. vol. iii. p. 505. et seq. Philosoph. 
 Transact, vol. Ixxi. pp. 39 — 109. Relation abreg. d'un 
 Voyage dans I' interieiir de VAmeriqiie Meredion. par M. 
 de la Condamine. Paris, 1745, 8vo. ; and Maestricht, 
 1778, 8vo. Lettre de Mad. Godin, a M. de la Conda- 
 7nine. [h) 
 
 AMAZONIA, a large country in south America, so 
 called from the Amazons, or female warriors, by whom 
 it was said to be inhabited. Amazonia is about 1400 
 miles long, and 900 broad ; extending from the equator 
 to about 20° S. Lat. and bounded on the north by Terra 
 Pirma, and Guiana ; on the east by the Atlantic ocean 
 and Brasil ; on the south by Paraguay ; and on the west 
 by Peru. This country was first discovered about the 
 year 1541, by Francisco Ovellana. This adventurer ac- 
 companied Gonzalo Pizarro, governor of Quito, m his 
 famous expedition to discover and subdue tlie countries 
 cast of the Andes. After encounterhig incredible hard- 
 ships, they arrived at last on the banks of the Coca, or 
 Napo, one of the rivers whose waters pour into the river 
 of the Amazons. Here with infinite labour they con- 
 structed a bark, which they hoped might be useful in 
 carrying provisions, and in transporting them across the 
 river. This vessel was manned with fifty soldiers, un- 
 der the command of Ovellana. By the rapidity of the 
 stream, they were soon carried far a-head of their coun- 
 trymen ; and Ovellana being now beyond the reach of 
 his commander, formed the bold, though treacherous 
 design of deserting him, and of making new conquests 
 and discoveries. With this view, he suffered the ves- 
 sel to be carried down the stream ; and after a voyage 
 of seven months, attended with many perilous adven- 
 tures, he at last reached the ocean in safety. From 
 thence he proceeded to Spain, and filled all Europe with 
 the account of his extraordinary adventures. The 
 world was at that time prepared to receive the most 
 wonderful accounts, and Ovellana gave them an ample 
 specimen of the marvellous. He pretended to have dis- 
 covered nations so rich, that the roofs of their houses 
 were covered with gold, and a republic of women with 
 all the warlike qualities of the ancient Amazons. From 
 this extravagant fable, the country was called by 
 "Europeans Amazonia, and the Maragnon was trans- 
 formed into the river of the AiTiazons. This river by 
 its inundations during the rainy season, converts a great 
 
 AMA 
 
 part o*" country wliich is generally fiat, into lakes and 
 morasses. Amazonia abounds with all the tropical pro- 
 ductions; and though tlie air is cooler tlian in many 
 places lying under the same latitude, owuig to the 
 heavy rains and the cloudiness of tne atmospliere, yet 
 the climate appears to be unhealtny. Tins country, ex- 
 cept where it borders on the river, is almost entirely 
 unknown to Europeans. Tlie Spaniards made several 
 attempts to plant it, but always witlioui success ; they at 
 last deserted it entirely, chiefly because tiiey did not 
 find what they most valued, mines of gold and silver. 
 Tlie nations on both sides of the river are numerous and 
 barbarous ; they are governed by chiefs or caziques, 
 whose regalia are a crown of feathers, a wooden sword, 
 and a chain of tigers' teeth or claws, which hang round 
 the waist. The Portuguese have a few inconsiderable 
 settlements near the mouth of the river ; but with the 
 exception -of these, the natives are ui the sole posses- 
 sion of the country. M. de la Condamine explored 
 Amazonia, so far at least as it touches on the river in 
 the year 1743, having sailed from Cuenca to Para, a 
 navigation much longer than that of Ovellana. The 
 same voyage was undertaken in 1769, by Madame 
 Godin des Odinais, from motives of conjugal affection. 
 The narrative oi the dangers to which she was ex- 
 posed, and of the disasters which befel her, is one of 
 the most singular and affecting stories in any lan- 
 guage. See Letter de M. Godin., a M, de la Conda- 
 mine. (.t) 
 
 AMAZONS, in ancient history, a nation of female 
 warriors, who are said to have formed a society from 
 which men were entirely excluded. Authors, however, 
 are not perfectly agreed on this point : Some inform us, 
 that the Amazons killed all their male children as soon 
 as they were born ; others, that they sent them to their 
 fathers ; whilst others tell us, that they kept them 
 amongst themselves, and employed them in spinning, 
 and every species of domestic drudgery ; having pre- 
 viously rendered them unfit for war, by luxations of the 
 hip bone, or by otherwise crippling their limbs. This 
 was no doubt very hard usage, but it was perfectly con- 
 sistent with the sternness of character ascribed to those 
 ancient heroines ; for they do not seem to have shown 
 much more tenderness for their female progeny. Their 
 first concern was to sear off the right breast of their 
 daughters, that it might not impede their exertions 
 in the use of the bow and the javelin. If any of our 
 readers should be disposed to wonder how the nation 
 of the Amazons should subsist and flourish without 
 having any men amongst them, we must inform them, 
 that the Amazons were sufficiently industrious in keep- 
 ing up the race ; and as they held an opinion, which still 
 very generally prevails, that ^^ fortes generatur fortibus" 
 they scrupled not to travel some hundreds of miles to 
 meet with heroes whom they thought worthy of peo- 
 pling their singular republic. Plutarch, in his life of 
 Pompey, informs us, that they lived two months in the 
 year with a neighbouring nation, with the patriotic view, 
 no doubt, of procuring recruits for the state ; for it 
 would be injustice to the heroines of whom we are 
 speaking, to ascribe to them any other feeling. 
 
 The chief seat of the Amazons was on the river 
 Thermodon, which falls into the Euxine, or Black Sea. 
 But Diodorus Siculus mentions another race of Ama- 
 zons, who inhabited the western parts of Libya, and 
 whom he represents as more ancient than those who 
 
 I
 
 AMAZONS. 
 
 56d 
 
 lived near the Thcrmocton. Polyacnus* speaks of the 
 Amazons in India. Ollicrsf say, that they dwelt in 
 Ethiopia. Tliey arc said at one time to have possessed 
 all Ionia}. We also read of their behig selLled in Italy. 
 Those, however, whose exploits are chiefly recorded, 
 are the Amazons on the Black Sea. They were attack- 
 ed by Hercules ; and as this hero was always invincible, 
 they were of course overcome. To be revenged for 
 this unprovoked aggression, they resolved to carry their 
 arms into Greece. After many perilous adventures, 
 they at last arrive at Athens, and fall furiously on the 
 troops that came out to oppose them. On this occa- 
 sion, we are told, the Athenians would have been utterly 
 routed ; for they had already shamefully turned their 
 backs to women, had not timely succours come to their 
 relief, which enabled them to repel these furious in- 
 vaders. This happened in the time of Theseus ; and so 
 calamitous did this enterprise prove to the Amazons, 
 that we are told their very name became extinct: 
 ■T)i\i iavruv ^rttr^t^ec ^la, rvn trvfj.'Po^cfi »vavvft.ov tTroiti^itv. — 
 Lysias. We should, therefore, expect after this, to 
 hear no more of their exploits. They are again, how- 
 ever, brought into action in the Trojan war. Homer 
 represents them us coming to the assistance of Priam, 
 and Virgil celebrates the atchievements of their queen 
 Penthesilea, in the defence of Troy : 
 
 Ducit Ammnnidum hn'tis agmina peltis, 
 Feiithesiiea furens, mediisque in nnUhius arJet, 
 Aurea subnectcns exserta: ungula jnuvinuc. 
 
 .^NEID, i. 495. 
 
 We hear little more of the Amazons till the time of 
 Alexander the Great. As if the history of his exploits 
 was not sufficiently marvellous, his historians must make 
 him have an interview with the queen of the Amazons. 
 The visit on the part of the lady, was avowedly for the 
 purpose of an assignation. But on this occasion, the 
 king was wofully deficient in gallantry ; he began to 
 talk of war, instead of listening to the soft tales of love ; 
 and it was only after thirteen days earnest solicitation, 
 that the fair petitioner succeeded in softening his callous 
 heart. After all, however, admitting the reality of this 
 adventure, we do not think that it affords any suflFicient 
 proofs either of Alexander's insensibility to female 
 chamis, or of his great moderation with regard to the 
 sex, as some of his eulogists have pretended ; for the 
 appearance of Thalestris, the queen of the Amazons, 
 was certainly not very prepossessing. She leaped from 
 her horse, brandishing two javelins in her hand, and 
 casting on the king a look of intrepidity, mixed with 
 some contempt on surveying his rather diminutive per- 
 son. With such a figure as this, it is no wonder that 
 Alexander should think of war rather than of dalliance ; 
 and that he should revolt at the idea of having his heart 
 taken by storm. See Q. Czirt. 1. vi. c. 5. 
 
 From this period, the Amazonian heroines seem to 
 have been almost entirely forgotten ; and indeed, con- 
 sidering their peculiar habits, we may well be surprized 
 how they should have existed so long. Plutarch, in his 
 life of Pompey, makes, the last attempt to draw them 
 into view. He says it was reported, that the Amasons 
 came to the assistance of the Albanians against the Ro- 
 mans, and that they fought stoutly in an engagement 
 which took place between these two nations. He con- 
 fesses, however, that the only proofs which the Ro- 
 
 mans had of the Amazons being present in the battle, 
 arose from some shields and buskins, which were 
 found after the engagement, and were supposed to 
 belong to the Amazons ; but he candidly acknow- 
 ledges, that there was not a woman found among the 
 slain. 
 
 Our readers have probably anticipated our judg- 
 ment respecting this singular community. We conltss 
 that we attach the same degree oi credit to tiie history 
 of the Amazons, as we do to that of the Cynoccpiiali, 
 or people with doi^s' heads, mentioned by Herodotus ; 
 or to the Cyclops, Centaurs, and Gorgons, mentioned 
 by almost all the Greek authors. We are sensibf ,that 
 a host of authorities may be mustered against us ; and 
 that Homer, Herodotus, Diodorus Siculus, and fifty 
 others, may be brought in formidable phalanx to overset 
 our narrow scruples. We are also seasiblc of the dan- 
 ger of disbelieving every thing that does .lot accord with 
 our experience or our prejudices ; but after all, we can- 
 not think that we are bound to believe. 
 
 Audet in historia ■ 
 
 • Quicquid Grtecia mendjx 
 
 In spite, too, of the learning of Petit, the credulity of 
 Dr Johnson, and all the instances of Amazonian prow- 
 ess which may be deduced from modern history, we are 
 still forced to retain our scepticism. We are glad we 
 have on our side respectable ancient autiiorities for 
 pronouncing the whole story of the Amazons to be a 
 fable. Plutarch, who is as much addicted to gossiping, 
 as most of his Grecian brethren, is nevertheless forced 
 to yield to the dictates of coinmon sense, and to give up 
 some of the most prominent parts of the history of the 
 Amazons as incredible. V£^i(pmai ioixe f4.v6a xai 7r>.ciT//,ctTt. 
 In Theseo, p. 13. It is e-uidcntly a romance and a Jable. 
 Palaephatus, a man of much good senss, and who made a 
 laudable attempt to free the iiistory of his country from 
 the rubbish of fiction, gives no credit to the accounts con- 
 cerning the Amazons. Stj«t£(«» h ymxixun a^ivron iixci 
 AtvEo-tfac ah yii« vv<> a^xft-a. It is not likely that a race of 
 female warriors ever existed ; nor are they nonv any vohere 
 to be found. Strabo is still more explicit, and seems 
 indignant that such an absurdity should have obtained 
 currency so long : His authority is entitled to particular 
 regard, as he was a native of Cappadocia, one of the coun- 
 tries which the Amazons were said to have possessed, 
 and where it was most likely that traces of their his- 
 tory might be found; yet he thus expresses himself: 
 " Many stories have a mixture of truth ; and most ac- 
 counts admit of some variation. But the history of the 
 Amazons has been uniformly the same ; the whole a 
 monstrous and absurd detail, without the least share of 
 probability. For who can be persuaded, thata community 
 of women, either as an army, or a city, or a stale, could 
 subsist without men ; and not only subsist, but make 
 expeditions into other countries, and gain the sove- 
 reignty over kingdoms ; not merely over the lonians 
 and those who were in their neighbourhood ; but to 
 pass the seas, and carry their arms into Europe. To 
 accede to this, were to suppose, that nature varied from 
 her fixed principles ; and that in those days women were 
 men, and men women." Lib. xi. p. 770. 
 
 We are not sure, however, but that Strabo goes 
 somewhat farther on this subject than we should choose 
 to follow him. The authorities which have been already 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 lib.i. p. U 
 
 f Schol in. Apollon. b. ii. v. 966. 
 
 % Steph. Byzant. 
 4C
 
 570 
 
 AMB 
 
 AAIB 
 
 quoted, seem sufTicicnlly to prove, that tliure ^va5 a race 
 of people called Ainazonideb, that they sent out colonies, 
 and had extensive possessions. If there is any depen- 
 dence at all on ancient history, this point seems to be 
 clearly made out. We do not, therefore, dispute the 
 existence of the Atliazonians ; we only question their at- 
 tributes; that is, we deny that they were a community 
 of women, or that they either maimed the legs of their 
 sons, or cut off the breasts of their daughters. 
 
 How then, it may be asked, has this improbable fiction 
 arisen? We need not go far for a solution; the plastic 
 genius of the Greeks was equal to much uiore than this, 
 and has produced stories much more unaccountable. 
 But as most fables have eitlier their origin in truth, or 
 arise from etymological deductions, or allegorical inter- 
 pretations, it might be interesting to enquire, how the 
 story of the Amazons has arrived at such an overgrown 
 height of absurdity ? and though we arc far from enter- 
 tainuig the presumptuous hope of explaining half the 
 aberrations of the human understanding, yet ancient his- 
 tory seems to supply sufficient materials for explaining 
 the Amazonian legends. Herodotus, (lib. iv. c. 110.) 
 for instance, tells us, that the Amazons were called, 
 amongst the Scythians, Oior/ia'.u. Mr Bryant, in con- 
 formity with his favourite system, tells us that Oiorpata 
 signifies the priests or worshippers of Orus. But Hero- 
 dotus says, that it is compounded of two words, Oior, a 
 i/ian ; and Patn, to kill ; consequently the word Oior- 
 pata, is the same as ' Avo^oy.rom, man-kilkr. We believe 
 this to be the origin of the fable about the Amazons 
 killing their husbands; but we are persuaded that the 
 name was not given tliem on that account, but because 
 they were notorious for the barbarous custom prevalent 
 amongst the savage nations of antiquity, of sacrificing 
 the unfortunate strangers who happened to be cast on 
 their shores. The notion of their being women, of 
 their cutting off their breasts, kc. arose from another 
 blunder in etymology. The Greeks, who never went 
 beyor.d their own language for the origin of any term, 
 supposed that the word Amazon was compounded of a, 
 priv. and ij.x^ci, a breast. Here, then, were ample mate- 
 rials for a fertile imagination, to paint women without 
 breasts, murderers of their husbands, and delighting m 
 war and bloodshed, together with the whole tissue of 
 absurdities interwoven with this improbable story. Who- 
 ever is acquainted with the structure of Grecian fables, 
 must be convinced, that many of the most celebrated 
 stories of the ancient mythology, were founded on cir- 
 cumstances not more substantial than those which have 
 been stated as the origin of the Amazonian history. 
 They who wish for farther information respecting the 
 Amazons, may consult the authors quoted or referred to 
 in this article ; particularly in favour of the common ac- 
 counts, Petri Petiti, P/iilosc/ihi et 3L-dici, de Ainazoni- 
 biis Dissertatio Lutetise Parisior. 1605. Against them, 
 Bryant's Alythohgy, vol. i. p. 3-.; and vol. v. p. 110. 3d 
 edit, (s) 
 
 The Hindus have also had their Slrirajya, or country 
 goverjied by ivomen. They assert, that the sovereign 
 of it was always a queen, and that all her officers, civil 
 and military, were females, while the great body of the 
 nation lived as in other countries ; but they have not in 
 this respect carried the extravagance of the fable to the 
 same pitch with the Greeks. It is related in one of 
 their ancient books, that wjien Ravana was apprehensive 
 oi being totally defeated, he sent his wives to distant 
 
 countries, where tiiey might be secure; that they first 
 settled on the Indian peninsula, near the site of Sriranga- 
 pattana, or Seringapatam; but that being disturbed iu 
 that station, part of them proceeded to the north of 
 Dwaraca in Gujasat, and part into sanc'-hadwipa, where 
 they formed a government of women, whence their set- 
 tlement was called Slrirajya. It was on the sea-shore 
 near the Cula mountains, extending about 40 yojanas in 
 lenglli, and surrounded by low swampy grounds, named 
 Jalabhumi in Sanscrit, and Daldal in the vulgar idiom. 
 Strirajya, therefore, must be the country of Saba, now 
 Assab, which was governed by a celebrated queen, and the 
 land round which has to this day the name of Tattal. (t) 
 
 AMBARVALIA, or Suevotaurilia, from amb.o, to 
 go round, and urvum^ a field, the name of a ceremoni- 
 ous procession among the Romans, in honour of Ceres. 
 In order to induce this goddess to grant them a good 
 harvest, they conducted a bull, a sow, and a sheep, in 
 procession round the ploughed fields, and afterwards 
 immolated these victims on the altar. The ambarvalia 
 were held twice a-year, in April and July. In the public 
 celebration of this festival, the twelve Fratres Arvah-s 
 oflrciated, and marched at the head of the populace, who, 
 crowned with oak leaves, sung hymns in honour of 
 Ceres. See Cato De Re Ptistica, cap. 141. Virgil's 
 Georg. lib. i. 339 — 345. Tibullus, lib. ii. Eleg. i. 19. (iv) 
 
 AMBASSADOR, the representative of one sove- 
 reign power at the court of another. As this is the 
 character in which an ambassador has always been view- 
 ed, great difficulties have occiu'red in the Asiatic king- 
 doms concerning the reception of envoys from the vice- 
 I'oys of the Dutch and English possessions, who claimed 
 the character of ambassadors. 
 
 Special privileges are conferred by the law of nations 
 on an ambassador ; the first of these is his reception by 
 the power to which he is accredited ; and therefore a 
 refusal to receive him, is regarded as a violation of that 
 law. As soon as his credentials are delivered, he and 
 his whole train are exempt from the effects of the mu- 
 nicipal law of the coimtry which he visits ; and hence it 
 is a practice in Londop, for persons of desperate fortunes 
 to procure their nomination in the suit of foreign ambas- 
 sadors, in order to protect themselves from imprison- 
 ment for debt. In England, this exemption is recognized 
 by a special statute, which sprung from the following 
 event : In the year 1 708, the Russian ambassador having 
 been arrested for debt and taken out of his coach, he 
 found bail, and then complained to the queen. Seventeen 
 persons concerned were'prosecuted by the attorney 
 general, and convicted ; but the question, liow far they 
 had done a criminal deed, was reserved to be argued 
 before the judges. In the mean time, the emperor of 
 Russia highly resented the injury, and demanded, that 
 not only the whole private individuals, but also the she- 
 riff of Middlesex, should be instantly put to death. The 
 queen answered, that she could inflict no punishment, 
 even on the meanest subject, unless when warranted by 
 the laws of her kingdom ; but that she had caused a new 
 act to be passed, which would guard against a similar 
 accident in future. This act was transmitted by an am- 
 bassador extraordinary to the Russian monarch. In this 
 act, all suits against an ambassador at the instance of a 
 private person are declared void ; pains or penalties are 
 decreed against the pursuer, and fie is deprived of trial 
 by jury. But there is a more difficult question, con- 
 cerning the exemption of the person of an ambassador,
 
 AMB 
 
 AMB 
 
 571 
 
 »r the persons of his suite, in the commission of crimes. 
 If guilty of treason against the country tliat receives 
 him, an ambassador loses his privilege. The French 
 ambassador was beheaded by the duke of Milan for trea- 
 sonable practices. But for offences of inferior degree, 
 it has been forcibly urged, that the right of pvmishment 
 resides in the sovereign of the offender, which is cer- 
 tainly more consistent with the general faith of nations. 
 At the same time there are instances of the reverse. In 
 1654, the brother of the Portuguese ambassador to the 
 English court, who, it is said, was joined in the same 
 letters of credence, was tried along with several do- 
 mestics for an atrocious murder committed in London, 
 and was condemned to lose his head ; and this sentence 
 was put in execution on the very day that a treaty of 
 peace was signed between the two kingdoms. In West- 
 minster abbey, have been preserved for many years, 
 two unburied coffins, containing the bodies of two foreign 
 ambassadors, arrested after their death for debt. 
 
 On a declaration of war, the mutual ambassadors of 
 the hostile powers are allowed to withdraw in safety. 
 This, however, is infringed by the barbarous policy of 
 the Turkish government, which seizes the ambassador, 
 to imprison him in a castle in Constantinople, called the 
 Seven Toiuers. There have formerly been examples 
 where an ambassador was returned with his nose slit, 
 and his cars cut off; and Alexander the Great is known 
 to have inflicted a cruel punishment on the city of Tyre 
 for an offence against his ambassadors. 
 
 The ceremonies attending the I'cception of ambassa- 
 dors are various. It is contrary to the customs of the 
 Birman court for an ambassador to leave his dwelling 
 before his first presentation. In China, an ambassador 
 must prostrate himself nine times before the throne, a 
 humiliation to which the minister of even Peter the Great 
 of Russia submitted ; but in the recent mission from this 
 country, the British ambassador declined doing greater 
 homage to the emperor than his own sovereign received 
 from his subjects: a refusal which was reluctantly sanc- 
 tioned. An ambassador, at a foreign court, has no pri- 
 vate character of his own ; he represents the person of 
 his sovereign alone ; but if he abuses his privileges, or 
 conducts himself oft'ensively, he may be sent home, and 
 accused before his master, as was done with count Gyl- 
 lenberg, the Swedish ambassador to London in 1716. 
 
 There are some instances of females of high I'ank 
 having been invested with the diplomatic character. In 
 Europe, the French ambassador, before the revolution, 
 was allowed the precedence in other courts ; and in 
 France, the same distinction was given to the Pope's 
 nuncio. — See Grotius de jure belli et pads, lib. ii. cap. 
 19. Vattel, k Droit des Gens, 1. 4. Hale Placita Co- 
 ronte, vpl. i. p. 99. Stat. 7. Anne,c. 12. Boyer's Annals 
 of Queen Anne. "Blackstone's Commentaries, \o\.\.\^. 253. 
 vol. iv. p. 85. Hargrave's State Trials, vol. i. 2. 5. 7. (c) 
 
 AMBER, (Bernstein, Germ. ; Succin, Carabe, Ambre 
 Jaune, Fr. ; Elcctrum, Suecinum, Lat.) is a yellow-co- 
 loured inflammable mineral, divided by Werner into two 
 sub-species, viz. white and yellow, which are distin- 
 guished from each other by colour, external surface, 
 lustre, fracture, and transparency. During pulverization 
 it gives out a slight and not unpleasant odour, which 
 becomes much stronger when the mass is heated or 
 melted. It cannot be brought to a fluid state without a 
 commencement of decomposition, and the volatilization 
 of a part of its acid : at a little higher temperature, if 
 
 exposed to the air, it takes fire, and burns with a yel- 
 lowish flame, mixed with blue and green, exhaling a 
 pungent, dense, aromatic smoke; a light shining black 
 coal is left behind, vvliich, wilh some difficulty, is reduci- 
 ble to ashes. The proportion of residue varies consi- 
 derably: iVuiu half a pound of amber, M. Bourdeliti 
 obtained, in one instance, 4J grains of ashes, and in 
 another 12 grains. Water, whether cold or hot, has no 
 effect on amber. Spirit of wine, by long digestion or 
 still better by repeated distillation from finely pulverized 
 amber, dissolves a small portion, and becomes of a deep 
 reddish-brown colour, forming the tincture of amber. 
 Levigated amber, by slow digestion, with an equal weight 
 of caustic potash dissolved in water, combines into a 
 thick saponaceous mass, which is readily soluble both 
 in water and spirit of wine; with the latter it forms the 
 linclura succini tarlarisata, once an article of repute iii 
 the materia medica. Neither the expressed nor volatile 
 oils have any action on amber, by common digestion, 
 except this latter has been previously roasted or melted ; 
 when this is the case, it is readily soluble in both kinds 
 of oil, either separate or mixed, forming the base of 
 amber varnish. (See Varnish.) Hoffman, however, 
 found, that if one part of pulverized amber was put into 
 a glass vessel, with two parts of oil of almonds, and the 
 whole inclosed in a Papin's digester filled with water, 
 the oil and amber in a short lime united into a jelly-like 
 mass. Ether has a slight action on amber. 
 
 When amber is exposed to dry distillation in closed 
 vessels, it swells, puffs up, and discharges a large quan- 
 tity of carbonic acid and carburetted hydrogen: toge- 
 ther with these gases, there comes over first a colour- 
 less empyreumatic watery fluid, with a peculiar, not a 
 disagreeable odour, and containing- a little acetous acid ; 
 this is called s/iirit of amber: next follows a thin clear 
 yellowish oil, smelling like rock oil, partly mixed with 
 it, and partly holding i]i solution, a crystalline salt, the 
 acid of amber, or succinic acid : as the' distillation goes 
 on, the oil becomes more coloured, and of a thicker 
 consistence, so that towards the end of the process, 
 it is almost black, and somewhat viscid. There re- 
 mains in the retort a black shining coal, which is em- 
 ployed as basis of the finest black varnish. The oil of 
 amber is separated from the acid, with which it is mix- 
 ed by washing with warm water, and may be further 
 purified by subsequent rectification. This oil is used 
 medicinally only as an ingredient of Eau de Luce. See 
 Pharmacy. 
 
 Amber, when rubbed, acquires a strong negative elec- 
 trical virtue. This property was known to the ancients, 
 who termed amber elcctrum : from whence is derived 
 the word electricity. 
 
 Its geognostic relations have been accurately ascer- 
 tained. It is found in floetz and alluvial rocks, and is 
 observed to occur more abundantly in newer than older 
 formations. Small embedded grains occur in the slate 
 or oldest coal formation : the greatest quantities are 
 found in alluvial land, and there either in beds of bitu- 
 minous wood or earth -coal ; or in the layers of clay that 
 are interposed between the bituminous wood and earth, 
 coal. It is sometimes found in gravel beds near Lon- 
 don, and near Sisteron, in Provence. It occurs also in 
 detached pieces floating on the surface of the sea, on tlie 
 coasts of certain countries. 
 
 Various conjectures have been proposed respecting 
 its origin and formation. By some it is held to be a 
 4 C 2
 
 57-2 
 
 AMBER. 
 
 vegetable resin or gUm ; others, as professor Hernib- 
 Htadt, consider it as a mineral oil, thickened by absorp- 
 tion of oxygen; Mr Parkinson is ot opinion, that it is 
 inspibsated mineral oil; and Patrin maintains, that it is 
 honey modified by time, and mineral acids, which have 
 converted it into bitumen. 
 
 It occurs more abundantly in the noithem parts of 
 Europe than in any other part of the globe ; and parti- 
 cularly on the shores of the Baltic, between Konings- 
 berg and jMcmel, in East Prussia. It is also found in 
 considerable abundance in the sandy plains of Poland ; 
 in the brown coal formation in Saxony ; in rolled masses 
 with large fragments of coal, in the gulf of Kara, on the 
 coast of the Arctic ocean; in the alluvial soil of Cour- 
 land, Liefland, Zeeland, and Wurtcmberg. There are 
 two mines of it in the province of Asturias in Spain ; and 
 it is found floating on the coasts of the Baltic, England, 
 Genoa, and Sicily* 
 
 It very frequently includes bodies of different kinds, 
 as grains of sand, pieces of iron pyrites, and also insects, 
 which, according to Jussieu, are not natives of the con- 
 tinent of Europe. Born mentions a specimen of amber 
 containing a species of gorgonia ; Alexander Sapieha 
 describes another, including the seed vessels of the fii- 
 nus abies; in certain cabinets there are specimens in- 
 cluding beautiful pinnated leaves resembling ferns, and 
 such are very rare and of great value ; and in others are 
 specimens including drops of transparent water, and in- 
 sects of diff'erent kinds. 
 
 This substance is either fished on sea coasts, or dug 
 out of the earth. After storms on the shores of the 
 Baltic, great quantities of it are observed floating on 
 the surface of the sea ; this is immediately collected by 
 means of a particular kind of net, and is, in general, 
 found to be better than that which is dug. The amber 
 mines are very irregular, consisting principally of in- 
 considerable galleries and shafts. As the amber found 
 in the Prussian territories is the property of the crown, 
 it is delivered by the fishers and miners to the proper 
 officers at a certain rate, and is by them deposited in the 
 amber warehouses, where it is arranged and sold ac- 
 cording to size and colour. It is said, that the Prussian 
 government derives from this article a revenue of 17,000 
 dollars annually. The largest and most beautiful pieces 
 are denominated sortbnentstUcke; the second kind ton- 
 nenstein, because they are sold in tons, a particular 
 German weight. The smallest pieces are divided uito 
 what are called fernitz and schluck. The sortiment- 
 stiicke are sold at 300 dollars the ton ; when the pieces 
 are large, pure, and of good colour, they are sold single : 
 a good piece, of a pound weight, will sell for fifty dol- 
 lars : pieces of tv/o or three pounds weight seldom oc- 
 cur. In the year 1576, a piece weighing eleven pounds 
 was found in Prussia, and sent to Prague, as a present 
 ;o Rudolph II. Very lately, a mass weighing thirteen 
 pounds was also found in Prussia, for which 5000 dol- 
 lars are s.iid to have been offered, and which, the Arme- 
 nian merchants assert, would sell in Constantinople for 
 30,000 or 40,000 dollars. 
 
 The tonnenstein are sold at 233 dollars the ton; the 
 fernitz at 100 dollars the ton; and the schluck at 20 dol- 
 lars the ton. The three last mentioned kinds are dis- 
 
 * Amber is found in the state of New Jersey in a 
 creek nearBordentown, on the river Delaware, in small 
 fragments. 
 
 posed of to the amber turners ii» Stoipe and Konings- 
 berg, who again sell considerable quantities to the Jews, 
 who carry it to the Levant, where it is in great request. 
 Amber dealers, however, sometimes substitute for it 
 different gums and resins ; also dried white of eggs, 
 and even coloured glass. 
 
 On account of its beautiful yellow colour, its great 
 transparency, and the fine polish it receives, it is cut 
 into necklaces, bracelets, snuffboxes, and other articles 
 of luxury. Before the discovery of the diamond, and 
 other precious stones of Itidia, it was considered as the 
 most precious of jewels, and was employed in all kinds 
 of ornamental dress. Attempts have been made to cut 
 the pale-coloured varieties into burning glasses and 
 lenses for microscopes. See Breslauer Hammlungen^ 
 7°. Verauch. 1719, 6'. 116. 
 
 The wax and honey yellow varieties are most highly 
 valued, not only on account of their beauty, but because 
 they arc more solid than the yellowish white coloured 
 varieties. Gottlieb Samuelson of Breslau, and others, 
 invented methods of rendering opaque and dark-coloured 
 amber transparent ; and also of communicating to am- 
 ber colours of different kinds, as red, blue, green, and 
 yellow. Most of these processes have perished with 
 their inventors ; but the two following were the gene- 
 ral methods of rendering amber transparent : First, By 
 surrounding it with sand in an iron pot, and cementing 
 it in a gentle heat for 40 hours, some small pieces be- 
 ing occasionally taken out to judge of the progress of 
 the operation. Secondltj, (which was the usual method,) 
 by digesting and boiling the amber for about 20 hours 
 in rape-seed oil, by which it became both clearer and 
 harder; amber thus clarified, however, is much less 
 electric than when in its natural state. 
 
 When worked into ornaments, it is first split on a 
 leaden plate, and then turned on a particular kind of 
 whet-stone from Sweden. The polishing is done with 
 chalk and water, or chalk and vegetable oil ; and, lastly, 
 the work is finished by rubbing the whole carefully with 
 clean flannel. Amber often becomes very hot, and 
 either flies into pieces, or takes fire during the splitting, 
 cutting, or polishing. To prevent this, workmen keep 
 the piece but a short time on the wheel, and the work 
 is not interrupted by their alternating with a great 
 many pieces. Workmen are frequently seized with a 
 violent tremor in their arms and body, evidently caused 
 by the electricity excited by the friction of the amber. 
 Watch cases, mirror frames, sword handles, &c. are 
 formed, by joining together several cut and polished 
 pieces of amber ; the extremities of the different pieces 
 are streaked with linseed oil, and the whole is held over 
 a charcoal fire, by which means the pieces become in- 
 timately united together. It is said that certain artists 
 possess the art of softening amber to such a degree, that 
 it can be run into moulds, and this without injuring its 
 beauty. Specimens of amber, reported to have been 
 liquefied in this manner, are said to be preserved in the 
 electoral cabinet in Dresden. 
 
 Much of the amber of commerce is purchased by Ar- 
 menians, who are believed to dispose of it to the Egyp- 
 tian merchants, who carry it to Persia, China, and Ja- 
 pan ; great quantities are also purchased by pilgrims in 
 undertaking their journey to Mecca; and which they 
 burn at the shrine of the prophet Mahomet. The most 
 considerable amber manufactures are at Stolpen, Ko- 
 ningsberg, Danzig, Elbingen, and Lubeck. At the 
 first-mentioned place, there aye manufactured annually
 
 AMB 
 
 AMB 
 
 .'iV.i 
 
 amber ornaments to the value of from 50 to 60,000 dol- 
 lars. It IS also manufactured in Constununoplc, Leg- 
 horn, Catanea, and Sicily. Sec Isaac Thilo, dinscrcalio 
 de succino Bursussorum.Uips. 1663, 4to. J. T. Schenc- 
 kis, Preside, Dissert, de guccino. Resp. GoUrf. Schultz. 
 Jenae, 1671. 4to. Thomas Banholinus, Ue succino ex- 
 {icrimenta. in ejus Act. Hafnicns, 1571. p. 110, 115. Dc 
 auccini generatione, resolulione el viribus. Act. Hqf?uens, 
 1673, p. 306 — 314. Phil. Jacob Hartmann. i)ucci7i. 
 I^russici /listoria, p. 291. Frankforti, 1677. 8vo. J. S. 
 Elsholtius. De succino, fossUi. Ji/i/iem. Ac. Mat. Cur. 
 Dec. 1. Ann. 9, and 10. p. 223 — 225. Philippo R. 
 Schroedero Preside, Dissert, dr jure succini in Regno 
 Borussia. Fes/t. .Ivl. ^f.gid. JVegeiein. Jieffio7nonti, 1722. 
 L. Fr. Henckcl. De succino fossiliin Sa-rnnia Jiteclorali. 
 Act. Acad. JYat. Curios, vol. iv. p. 313 — 316. Von dem 
 gegrabnen Bernstein ini Churjiir stent hum Haclisen in seine 
 Kleine Schriften,Y>. 589 — 552. Claude Louis Bourdelin. 
 Memoire sur le Huccin. Mem. de l' Acad, des Sc.de Pa- 
 ris, 1742. p. 143 — 175. J. Amb. Beurerus. De natura 
 succini, Phil. Trans, vol. xlii. No. 468. p. 322 — 324. John 
 F'othergill. An Extract of his Essay u/ton the Origin of 
 Amber. Phil. Trans, vol. xliii. No. 472. p. 21 — 25. F. 
 S. Bock's Versuch einer Kurzen naturgeschichte des 
 Preussischen Bernsteins, und einer neuen luahrscheinlich- 
 en erkliirung seine.^ urs/irunges, p. 146. Koningsberg, 
 1767. 8vo. F. August Canheuser vo?/!. urs/irunge des 
 Bernstein's Mincralog. Ahhandlung, 1. ThcH. p. 172 — 190. 
 Journal fur Fabrick, 1798. S. 399. Voight's Kleine 
 Schriften. 1. Band. S. 235. N. ^e.\\d<i\W^ Historia Suc- 
 cinorum Cor/iora aliena involventium et natura o/iere fiic- 
 torum et ctelatorum, ex Regis Angustorum Cimeliis 
 Dresda conditis aeri insculjitorum conscripta. fol. Leip- 
 sic. A. 1742. Parkinson's Organic Rexains, vol. ii. 
 Jameson's Mineralogy, vol. ii. See also Oryctognosy 
 and Geognosy, (r) 
 
 AMBER, a species of the amber, or resin genus. 
 See Oryctognosy. {f) 
 
 AMBERG, a tovi^n in the circle of Bavaria, and the 
 Upper Palatinate, situated on the river Vils at the bot- 
 tom of a hill. It is defended with ditches, ramparts, 
 and bastions, and has an electoral palace, a cathedral, a 
 collegiate church, and three convents. In 1297, it was 
 formed from a village into a town; and when the elector 
 was put under the ban of the empire, it was seized by 
 the Imperialists. Amberg was taken by the Austrians 
 in 1743, and by the French in 1796; and in the same 
 year, a well-contested battle was foughtat Amberg, be- 
 tween the French and Austrians, the former of whom 
 kept the field, but afterwards retreated from Bavaria. 
 In the neighbourhood of Amberg is an iron mine which 
 gives considerable trade to the inhabitants. E. Long. 
 1 1° 48' 20". N. Lat. 49° 27' 52". (to) 
 
 AMBERGRIS, sometimes also called grey amber, 
 has an ash-grey colour, marked with yellowish, brown, 
 and white streaks. It occurs in irregular shaped 
 masses, which have a compact texture ; its specific gra- 
 vity varies from 0.78 to 0.92, according to Brisson. 
 Bouillon la Grange found its specific gravity from 0.849 
 to 0.844. It has an agreeable smell, which improves 
 by keeping. Its taste is insipid; when heated to 122°, 
 it melts without frotliing. By raising the heat suffi- 
 ciently, it may he volatilized ; when distilled, we obtain 
 a white coloured acrid liquid, and a light volatile oil ; a 
 bulky charcoal remains behind. It is insoluble in water, 
 and acids have little action on it. According to Bouil- 
 lon la Grange, it is composed of 
 
 52.7 adipocirc 
 
 30.8 resin 
 
 11.1 benzoic acid 
 5.4 charcoal 
 
 100.0 
 
 Wallerius, in his System of Mineralogy, describes this 
 substance as a particular mineral genus under the name 
 ambra, of which he describes two species, viz. ambra 
 grisea and ambra unicolor. 
 
 It is seldom found pure, but generally includes beaks 
 of the cuttle fish, and other extraneous matter. It some- 
 times occurs in very large masses. Ncuman, in his 
 history of ambergris, published in the Philosophical 
 Transactions for 1734, mentions a famous mass of am- 
 bergris thrown on shore on the island of Tidor, and pur- 
 chased from the king of that island by the Dutch East 
 India Company in 1693, for 1 l,ooo dollars, which weigh- 
 ed 1821b. measured 5 fcei 8 inches in length, and 2 feet 
 2 inches in thickness. It was long exhibited at Am- 
 sterdam, and at last broken up and sold. The grand 
 duke of Tuscany offered 50,000 dollars for this remark- 
 able mass. In 1755, the French East India Company 
 had in their possession a still larger mass ; it weighed 
 225 pounds, and was sold for 52,000 francs. According 
 to captain William Keching, the Moors are said to find 
 masses of ambergris of 20 quintals weight, upon the 
 coasts of Monbassa, Magadoxa, and de Brava. Hist, 
 gen. des Voyag. torn. i. p. 469. 
 
 It is generally found in the sea or upon sea-coasts. 
 According to F'laccourt, {V^oy. p. 150.) it occurs pretty 
 frequently on the coast of Madagascar, and the island of 
 Saint Mary ; it is also collected in the bay of Honduras, 
 (Dampier, Voy. vol. i. ;) upon the coasts of Brazil, Chili, 
 and in the Archipelago of Chiloe, (Molina, Chili Frejich 
 Trans, p. 61.) near the coasts of Japan, according to 
 Kempfer, {Hist. Gen. des Voyag. t. x. p. 657;) on the 
 shores of Morocco, (Marmol. .'Ifriq. t. ii. p. 30;) ac- 
 cording to Vanderbroeck, {Voy. t. iv. p. 308,) at the 
 mouth of the Gambia of Saint Domingo; Cape de Verde 
 islands, Mozambique, and Sofala. (Tavernier, Voy. t. iv. 
 p. 73; Saris in the Hist. Gen. Voy. ib. p. 185.) at the 
 island of Lolo, one of the Manilla islands. (Legentil. 
 Voy. dans les Mers de r hide, t. ii. p. 84 ;) at the Bermu- 
 das, according to Lade, {Voy. t. ii. p. 48, 72, 99, 492,) 
 and even the coasts of France, as in the gulf of Gas- 
 cony. {Journal de Physiq. 1790, Mars.) Mandeslo in- 
 forms us, that it is found in the shores of Bengal and 
 Pegu, {Voyage d'Olearius, t. ii. p. 139.) See also Lins- 
 chooten, Gaetan-Charpy, and the older accounts of In- 
 dia. The Malays, and the inhabitants of Tenior, collect 
 it in considerable quantities, (Rumphius, Cabinet d'Am- 
 boine, p. 255;) as also the inhabitants of the Maldive 
 islands, (Lopez de Castagnetta; fails des Portugais 
 dans les Ind. Orient, c. 35.) The ambergris of Sumatra 
 and Madagascar is said to be the best. Quadrupeds, 
 birds, fishes, crabs, and cetaceous animals, are remark- 
 ably fond of it. 
 
 The smell of ambergris when recently taken from the 
 whale, or even when floating on the surface of the ocean, 
 is very strong, and rather fetid; but, by keeping, the of- 
 fensiveness goes off, and it acquires a faint musky odour. 
 When heated, or burnt, it liquefies, and yields that pe- 
 culiar penetrating fragrant smell, for which it is so 
 much valued ; and the same takes place when in solu- 
 tion, or mixed with other scents ; so that, like musk, it
 
 574 
 
 AMB 
 
 AMB 
 
 \ 
 
 is too powerful for most organs, till diluted or diffused 
 in air. In England, ambergris is principally used in 
 perfumery. The tincture in spirit of winr, or essence, 
 is the preparation chiefly employed. A drop or two is 
 mixed with a large quantity of lavender water of the 
 shops, and adds much to the fragrance of its scent. It is 
 employed to piu'fume hah' -powder, tooth-powder, wash- 
 balls, he. It was formerly much used as an article of 
 the materia medica, but has been found of little efficacy; 
 hence it is now very generally disused, as a medicine, 
 ill most parts of Europe. The chief marts for it arc 
 Turkey, Persia, and the East, where it is used in cook- 
 cry, medicine, perfumery, and as an aphrodisiac, though 
 its virtues in this respect are altogether imaginary. 
 
 The price of ambergris is very high : in London, ac- 
 cording to Aitkin, it is retailed at from 20 to 24 shillings 
 per ounce; and hence its frequent adulteration with 
 wax, benzoin, labdanum, wood of aloes, storax, &c. 
 scented with musk; it is difficult, however, to imitate it 
 accurately. 
 
 Many different opinions have been found regarding 
 its origin. Metzger, in his Jmbrclogia, and Schroek, 
 have collected the different opinions of authors on this 
 subject. It would afford but little amusement or in- 
 struction to give a detail of these hypotheses; we shall 
 therefore mention only what appears to be the most 
 probable explanation of the origin and formation of this 
 interesting production. 
 
 Ambergris has been frequently found in the intestines 
 of a particular species of whale, denominated by natu- 
 ralists, the Physeter-Macroct/tlialus, Linn, and hence is 
 conjectured to be an animal product. So early as the 
 385 and 387 Nos. of the Philosophical Transactions, a 
 fact of this kind is related. Kempfer, in his History of 
 Japan, informs us, that the Japanese obtain their amber- 
 gris principally from a species of whale common on 
 their shores ; that it is contained in their intestines, and 
 is intermixed with the faeces. In Chili, ambergris is 
 denominated Alayene, which signifies the excrement of 
 whales. (Molina, Bist. A'at. du Chili, Trad. Fr. p. 61.) 
 According to Julius Scaliger, (Exercit. subt. 104.) the 
 books of the Arabians contain numerous instances of 
 ambergris found in whales. Monardus mentions a whale 
 which produced an hundred pounds of ambergris. {Mis- 
 cell. J\'at. Cur. Dec. 2 Obs. 21.) Captain James Coffin, 
 master of a ship employed in the southern whale fishery, 
 was examined by a committee of privy council, in the 
 year 1791, in regard to the nature of ambergris. He 
 related, that he found 362 ounces of this substance in 
 the intestines of a female whale, struck off the coast of 
 (luinea; part of it was voided from the rectum on cut- 
 ting up the blubber, and the remainder was collected 
 within the intestinal canal.* The whales, that contain 
 ambergris, are always lean and sickly, yield but very 
 little oil, and seem almost torpid; so that when a sper- 
 maceti whale has this appearance, and does not emit 
 fsces on being harpooned, the fishers generally expect 
 to find ambergris within it. It appears highly probable. 
 
 * Philos. Trans, vol. Ixxxi. Dr Swediaur confirms 
 this statement, Philos. Trails, vol. Ixxiii. See also Me- 
 dical Rcliositcry of J\i~etv York., Hexade 2d, vol. i. and 
 Hex. 3d, vol. ii. A very good account of this substance 
 may be found in Fourcroy's Cheinistry, translated by 
 Nicholson, vol. x. Ambergiis is very rarely met with. 
 
 Mease. 
 
 that all ambergris is generated in the bowels of the 
 physeter macrocephalus, or spermaceti whale ; but it is 
 uncertain whether it is the cause or effect of disease. 
 Another proof of this origin of ambergris is, that it ge- 
 nerally has a number of hard bony fragments included 
 in it, «hich are the beaks of the sepia, or cuttle fish, on 
 which the spermaceti whale is known to feed, and which 
 are always found mixed with the whale's excrements, 
 more or less broken down in the intestinal canal. See 
 J. I'idus Klobius, jimbrie Historia, Wittenbcrgs, 1666, 
 4to. Hcnricus V^ollgnad, De Ambra .4uguatana insoten- 
 tioriH Jiondcrin, Ephem. Ac. Nat. Curi(js, Dec. 1. Ann. iii. 
 p. 448. Robert Boyle's Letter concerning Ambergrece, 
 Phil. Trana. vol. viii. No. 97. p. fill3 — 6115. Robert 
 Fred« ay's account of a great piece of Ambergris thrown 
 on the island of Jamaica, Phil. Trans, vol. xix. No. 232. 
 p. 71 1, 712. N. Chevalier, Descrijition de la fiiece d'Am- 
 bregris, que la chambrc d' Amsterdam a recti des Indes 
 Orientales, jiesanl 182 livres, Amsterdam, 1700, 4to. 
 Boylston on Ambergris found in whales, Phil. Trans. 
 vol. xxxiii. No. 385. p. 193. Casparus Neumann, De 
 ambra gri.sea, Phil Trans, vol. xxxviii. Abraham Abel- 
 even, ■•'ur I'origine de I'Ambrcgris. Hist, de CAcud. Ber- 
 lin, 1763, p. 125, 128. Francis Schwediauer's account 
 of Ambergris, Phil. Trans, vol. Ixxiii. p. 226,241. Rome 
 d'Lisle Lettre sur les bees de Seche qui se recontrent dans 
 I'Ambregria. Journal de Physicjue, t. xxv. p. 372 — 374. 
 On the production of Ambergris, Phil. Trans, vol. Ixxxi. 
 p. 43, 47. Uber die erzeugung des grauen ambers Voigts 
 Magazin. 8. Band. 1. Stuck, p. 77, 83. (r) 
 
 AMBIDEXTER, from ambo, " both," and dexter, 
 " the right hand," is the name given to those who can 
 use both hands with equal facility and energy. The 
 ancient Scythians were compelled by law to use both 
 hands alike; and the Grecian pikemen and halberdeers 
 employed their right and left hands with equal ease. 
 The Roman gladiators were sometimes trained up to 
 this practice ; and we are informed in Scripture, that 
 the tribe of Gad furnished 700 men, who fought equally 
 well with both hands, (w) 
 
 AMBIGENAL, a name first given by sir Isaac New- 
 ton to certain hyperbolas of the third order, which have 
 one of their infinite branches inscribed within its 
 asymptote, and the other circumscribed about its 
 asymptote. See Newton's Enumeratio Linearum Tertii 
 ordinis. (^u) 
 
 AMBLE. See Horsemanship. 
 
 AMBOISE, the capital of the district of Tours in 
 France, in the department of the Indre and Loire. It 
 is celebrated as the place where the protestants formed 
 their conspiracy in 1560, and where the civil war first 
 originated. On a little island in the river Loire, near 
 Amboise, a conference was held between Alaric and 
 Clovis. Amboise was the birth-place of Charles VIII. 
 whose statue is still shewn in the castle, which is placed 
 upon a high rock. Population 3100. W. Long. 59' 7". 
 N. Lat. 47" 24'51". (o) 
 
 AMBOULE, a town in the valley of Amboule, a pro- 
 vince of Madagascar. It is situated on the south-east 
 coast of the island, at the mouth of the river Manam- 
 pani, which irrigates the whole valley. Near this town 
 is a hot spring, within seven yards of a small rivulet, 
 whose sand is almost burning hot. The water of this 
 spring is reckoned a specific for the gout, and is said to 
 boil an egg hard in about two hours. E. Long. 46" 45'. 
 S. Lat. 25° 28'. See Mod. Univ. Hist. vol. xi. p. 464, 
 and Madagascar, (o)
 
 AMB 
 
 AMB 
 
 575 
 
 AMBOYNA, one of ilie principal of tlie Molucca 
 islands, anil the only one in wliich cloves urc pcrniiUed 
 to be culuvaled. It is situated in the archipelago of 
 St Lazarus, in S. Lat. 3'= 42', and 128"^ east of London. 
 It lies about 120 leagues cast of Batavia ; and is about 
 70 miles in circumference. It is divided into two pe- 
 ninsulas, connected with each other by a narrow neck 
 of land, both of which are very mountainous, and almost 
 entirely overgrown v ith wood. Amboyna, with its de- 
 pendencies is supposed to contain about 45,000 inhabit- 
 ants, a motley mixture of all religions. The Ma^home- 
 tans from the isle of Java, first began the worK of con- 
 version, and soon made a number of proselytes. The 
 Portuguese were the first Europeans who discovered 
 and took possession of Amboyna, and they were no less 
 zealous in making converts to the Catholic faith. The 
 Dutch, upon their gaining possession of the island, at- 
 tempted in their turn, to bring over the natives to the 
 protestant religion ; and as they had been already accus- 
 tomed to changes, and appear to have been no wise te- 
 nacious of their religious opinions, they found little 
 diflicully in professing the faith of their masters. In 
 1796, when the settlement was taken by the English 
 under admiral Rainier, upwards of 17,000 of the natives 
 were reported to be protestants; the rest are Mahome- 
 tans, Roman Catholics, and Pagans.* It appears, how- 
 ever, that the Amboynese Christians are little better 
 than Pagans in reality; for it is reported by Stavorinus, 
 who resided a considerable time amongst them, that 
 they still sacrifice to the evil spirit, who, they believe, 
 resides in a hill on the coast of Ceram; they never pass 
 his habitation without attempting to propitiate him, by 
 setting afloat a few flowers, and some small pieces of 
 money in cocoa nut shells. 
 
 The Amboynese, though of a very dark complexion, 
 approaching nearer to black than to brown, have never- 
 theless very regular features. Neither the thick lips, 
 nor the depressed noses, which, according to our ideas 
 of beauty, deform " the human face divine,*' in other 
 hot countries, are seen here ; but, on the contrary, and 
 especially among the females, perfectly symmetrical 
 countenances are the general characteristic of the in- 
 habitants. 
 
 There are neither lions, tigers, wolves, nor any other 
 beast of prey in Amboyna. The most noxious animals 
 are snakes, of which there are about twenty different 
 kinds. The woods abound with deer, and with the babi- 
 roussa, or hog-deer, as the name signifies. The flesh 
 of these creatures is almost the only animal food that is 
 eaten in Amboyna ; and that chiefly by the Europeans, 
 as the natives can seldom afford to purchase it. The 
 chief article of subsistence among the Amboynese, is 
 the farinaceous pith of the sago-tree; of this substance 
 they form bread, resembling the cassava of the West 
 Indies, and use it for all the various purposes for which 
 meal is employed in other countries. But the staple 
 commodity of Amboyna, and for which alone it is covet- 
 ed by Europeans, is cloves. The lucrative trade arising 
 from this valuable article of commerce, or of luxury, is 
 entirely in the hands of the Dutch, who guard their mo- 
 nopoly with the most illiberal jealousy. Cloves are 
 only produced in Amboyna and the neighbouring islands, 
 all of which are in the possession of the Dutch ; but to 
 prevent smuggling, and to make their command of the 
 market more secure, they have been at the utmost pains 
 
 to extirpate the clove trees from all the other islands, 
 and to confine the culture of them to Amboyna alone. 
 For this purpose, the governor of Amboyna makes a 
 circuit every year, attended by a numerous retinue, with 
 the express design of cutting down all the clove trees 
 which may be found on the other islands. 
 
 We could, however, excuse them, had these been the 
 only means which they employed to secure this lucra- 
 tive commerce. But Amboyna is not so remarkable 
 for its valuable productions, as for being the scene 
 of one of the most violent outrages against humanity 
 which has disgraced the history of modern times. Af- 
 ter the Portuguese were expelled by the Dutch, the 
 English had been allowed to establish themselves in the 
 island, under the protection of the Dutch government. 
 It was natural enough to suppose, that in these circum- 
 stances, differences should arise amongst the rival tra- 
 ders. The adjustment of these differences had been re- 
 ferred to the English and Dutch East India companies. 
 But the Dutch government of Amboyna not being able 
 to wait the slow but equitable decision which might 
 have been expected from this reference, contrived by 
 one of the clumsiest and most infernal plots that ever 
 was hatched by human depravity, to get possession of 
 the whole island, before the cause had well received a 
 hearing in Europe. Two soldiers in the Dutch service, 
 the one a Japanese, the other a Portuguese, were put 
 to the torture, and forced to emit a declaration, that a 
 conspiracy was formed by the English to dispossess the 
 Dutch of one of the principal forts in the island. On 
 this evidence all the English were seized; and, not 
 content with despatching them at once, the diabolical 
 wretches glutted their revenge, by making them expire 
 inider the most unheard of tortures ; and though all the 
 papers of the English were seized, there could not be 
 found the most distant allusion to this pretended con- 
 spiracy. This infamous transaction happened during 
 the inglorious reign of James I.; and as that monarch 
 was then embroiled with Spain, through the perverse 
 counsels of his favourites, he did not find it convenient 
 to break with the states of Holland. He therefore pa- 
 tiently submitted to this national indignity, sheltering 
 his pusillanimity under this Christian maxim, " I for- 
 give them, and I hope God will ; but my son's son shall 
 revenge this blood, and punish this horrid massacre." 
 But his majesty, though a tolerable divine, was no pro- 
 phet; it was not reserved for any of his family to vin- 
 dicate the national honour ; but Cromwell, after having 
 defeated the Dutch in war, made it one of the articles 
 of peace, that they should deliver up the island of Po- 
 lerone into the hands of the East India company, and 
 pay 500,000/. as a compensation for the outrage at Am- 
 boyna. The best account of Amboyna is to be found in 
 Valentyn's large work on the Dutch possessions in the 
 East Indies, 1728, 5th vol. folio, a book very valuable, 
 very scarce, and almost inaccessible, as there is not, so 
 far as we know, a translation of it from the Dutch. A 
 pretty detailed account may also be found in Stavori- 
 nus's Voyage to the F.ast Indks. See also Campbell's 
 Collection of Travels, Pennant's Outlines, iv. 168; and 
 Rhymer's Ftidera, xvii. 170. {g) 
 
 AMBRACIA, a city of Thespotla, in Epirus. It was 
 built on the river Aractus, and from its vicinity to the 
 gulf of Arta, that inlet was called the Sinus Ambracius. 
 No traces of this city remain at present; but the geo- 
 
 It was restored to the Dutch at the pe.ice of Amiens.
 
 576 
 
 AMB 
 
 AMB 
 
 graphical position of Arba. in Upper Albania, seems to 
 con-espond best with the description of it, which may 
 be gathered from Livy. Tlie modern name of the Arac- 
 tus is apagmaqmurisi. The early history of Ambracia 
 is not marked by any interesting occunences. Like 
 many other cities of Cirecce, it was at first under the 
 -direction of magistrates, who were chosen by the people; 
 it was next conquered by the descendants of the Jiacida:, 
 who made it the place of their residence ; tlie iEtolians 
 occupied it till the year 189, A. C. and at that time it 
 fell into the hands of the Romans, after a vigorous and 
 gallant resistance. The strength of the fortifications, 
 and the natural advantages of the place, together with 
 the determined resolution of the inhaljitants, seemed for 
 a while to baffle all the skill and valour of Fulvius, who 
 at the head of a numerous army, sat down before it. 
 The Roman general formed two camps in the neigh- 
 bourhood of the city ; then drew lines of circumvallation 
 and contravallation around the place ; and erected a 
 wooden tower opposite the citadel. On the other hand, 
 the jEtolians were not inactive. They watched the mo- 
 tions of the consul with the utmost care ; and before his 
 lines were completed, they had the address to throw 
 about 1000 men into the place. The besieged made a 
 vigorous defence. They lessened the force of the bat- 
 tering rams by interrupting them in their progress to- 
 wards the walls ; and they diminished the power of the 
 scythes and other instruments, which the Romans used 
 for dilapidating the works, by catching them with horses, 
 and pulling them into the city. In the mean time, they 
 were reinforced by a detachment of 500 men, whom Ni- 
 cander, the jEtolian praetor, had sent under the orders 
 of Nicodamus to their assistance. This aid was joy- 
 fully received. And Nicodamus having agreed with the 
 prsetor to sally forth upon the Romans, while he attacked 
 them with the chief strength of his troops from with- 
 out, the Ambracians yet entertained the hope of being 
 able to repel the besiegers, and of delivering their city 
 from the power of Rome. Nicodamus, punctual to his 
 engagement, advanced from the walls at the propel' 
 time; and though the praetor declined to support him, 
 he gave considerable alarm to the enemy, made a pro- 
 digious slaughter of the legionaries, and collecting the 
 garrison, withdrew into the citadel. After this attempt, 
 the inhabitants continued to defend themselves with 
 astonishing vigour. If a breach was made, it was in- 
 stantly repaired. If any part of the wall was thrown 
 down, a new one was immediately raised behind it. The 
 besieged were night and day upon the battlements, and 
 appeared to set all the art and valour of Rome at defi- 
 ance. The consul, therefore, determined to change his 
 plan of operation. Instead of endeavouring to carry the 
 place by attack, he resolved to undermine the wall, and 
 advance into the city before the inhabitants could have 
 time to build a new one. For a while he concealed his 
 purpose from the townsmen. But perceiving an unusual 
 quantity of earth thrown up, they suspected his design, 
 and instantly set themselves to counteract it. The mea- 
 sure which they adopted with this view, was both inge- 
 nious ami cfiectual. They began to form a mine in their 
 turn ; and having dug a trench of the same depth as 
 they supposed that of the enemy to be, they carried it 
 along towards the wall, and immediately opposite the 
 
 place where they heard the noise of Roman pickaxes. 
 Tlie workmen of both parties met, and a battle ensued. 
 But the Ambracians, mure at ease llian their antagonists, 
 prevented them from advancing, and employing an en- 
 gine of an unusual construction, to throw smoke in their 
 faces, they drove them from the mine. 
 
 Fulvius the consul being disappointed in this attempt, 
 had recourse to negociation; and by the influence of 
 Amynander, king of the Athamancns, he persuaded the 
 Ambracians to surrender. He was then admitted within 
 the walls, and presented with a crown of gold, together 
 with ntoMy pictures and statues, with which Pyrrhus had 
 adorned the city. From this time the Ambracians made 
 no figure in history. — See Adams's Geografih. Index, 
 Art. Ambracia. Liuy, book xxxviii. cap. 3. and 9. and 
 43. and 44. {It) 
 
 AMBRONES, a people of ancient Gaul, who were 
 deprived of their territories by the encroachments of the 
 sea, and who subsisted by rapine and plunder. They 
 lived on the north and south of the Po, and assisted the 
 Cimbri and Teutones in their invasion of the Roman 
 territories. They were defeated witli great slaughter by 
 Marius, about 102 years before Christ. See Plutarch 
 in Mario, (o) 
 
 AMBROSE, a deacon in the Christian church at 
 Alexandria, who was converted by Origen from the 
 errors of the Marcionites and Valentinians. He was a 
 person of high rank ; and was possessed of great wealth. 
 He is said to have been particularly friendly to sacred 
 literature, to have first suggested to Origen the writing 
 of commentaries ; and to have maintained several per- 
 sons to assist him in those compositions. He made a 
 confession of his Christian principles before the empe- 
 ror Maximin ; and suffered martyrdom during his reign, 
 about the year 239. See Eusebius. (f/) 
 
 AMBROSE, St, was born at Aries, where his father 
 resided as governor of Gaul ; and while he lay in his 
 cradle, a swarm of bees, it is said, were seen to settle 
 on his lips. This is considered as having been a pro- 
 phetical indication of his eloquence ; and, on account of 
 the sweetness of his expressions, he was afterwards 
 called Mellifluous. He was appointed by Probes the 
 prefect to be governcfr of Milan ; and was charged by 
 him to act in his office, not as a judge, but as a bishop. 
 This was probably intended merely as an advice to con- 
 duct himself as a magisti"ate, who respected religion ; 
 but it was afterwards considered as a prophecy, when 
 AiTibrose really became a bishop. While he resided at 
 Milan, there were violent contests between the Arians 
 and orthodox, about the election of a bishop for that city. 
 As the people were on one occasion remarkably tumul- 
 tuous in this affair, Ambrose addressed them in such a 
 pathetic and persuasive manner, on the beauty and bene- 
 fit of concord, that they vvere enraptured with his elo- 
 quence, and exclaimed, that he should be their bishop. 
 He wished to decline the office, and is said to have 
 employed some very extraordinary means to prevent his 
 being chosen.* But the emperor Valentinian approved 
 the choice of the people, recommended it to Ambrose 
 to signify his acceptance, and witnessed in person the 
 ceremony of his ordination. It is related that he was 
 only a catechumen, and not yet baptized, when he was 
 thus appointed to be a bishop ; but his abilities and 
 
 • He is said to have intentionally pronounced some cruel sentences, that he mlg'ht disgust the people ; to have engag-ed courtesans 
 to enter his liouse publicly, that he nii.^ht be considered as unchaste ; and to have at last attempted to escape from the city. — 
 <ioJeau. Ifist. torn. ii. p. .^lO.
 
 AMB 
 
 AMB 
 
 577 
 
 virtues overcame every disqualification of that nature. 
 He was much respected by Valentinian, and still more 
 by his successor Gratian. After the death of Gratian, 
 who had been no friend to the support of the heathen 
 mythology, an attempt was made by Symmachus, pre- 
 lect of Rome, a person of high rank and great elociuence, 
 to persuade Vaientinian, the brother and successor of 
 Gratian, to restore the vestals, and to replace the altar 
 of Victory. Ambrose resisted this proposal with all his 
 influence, and prevented it from being adopted. At the 
 request of the young prince, he went on an embassy to 
 the tyrant Maximin, who had revolted in the reign of 
 Gratian, who was in possession of Gaul and Spain, and 
 who was threatening an invasion into Italy. He prevailed 
 with that monster of cruelty to lay aside his hostile in- 
 tention, and saved Vaientinian from his power. He made 
 a second visit to Maximin at Treves, to demand the 
 body of Gratian, but was not so successful in his nego- 
 ciations. Notwithstanding those dangerous and cUfiicult 
 services, which he had rendered to the emperor, he 
 found that both he and his mother Justina, were more 
 favourable to the Arians than to his friends ; and he 
 firmly resisted them, in several measures which he con- 
 ceived were hurtful to the cause of peace and truth. 
 He was equally bold in his remonstrances with the em- 
 peror Theodosius ; and on one occasion, made him sub- 
 mit publicly to the censures of the church. The inha- 
 bitants of Thessalonica had risen in a tumultuous man- 
 ner, and had slain one of his generals. The emperor 
 punished their guilt, by sending a body of troops, and 
 making a general massacre in the city. For this act of 
 cruelty and injustice, Ambrose denounced him as a 
 murderer, and refused to perform the sacred rites of 
 religion in his presence, till the emperor consented to 
 give a solemn testimony of his penitence. This faith- 
 ful bishop, however, discharged those painful duties 
 with so much humility and aflection, that he was often 
 respected by those whom he reproved. Theodosius, 
 particularly, instead of being offended by this instance 
 of his integrity and zeal, became more attached to him 
 than before. He used to say that he never knew a bishop 
 but Ambrose ; and on his death-bed, recommended his 
 children to his care. Ambrose discharged the office of a 
 bishop with the most exemplary piety, hospitality, tem- 
 perance, and charity, during 23 years ; and died amidst 
 the tears of his friends, and the lamentations of his peo- 
 ple, A. D. 397, in the 64th year of his age. Few of his 
 writings are extant ; and some have been ascribed to 
 him (such as Commeiitaries on the E/iistles of Paul,) 
 which, in the opinion of many authors, could not have 
 come from his pen. His sentiments are sublime and 
 eloquent ; but his style is full of conceits, and his figures 
 very confused. See Paulinus. Baronius. Eusebius. Go- 
 dcau, hist, de I'Eglise, v. ii. [(f) 
 
 AMBROSE, Isaac, a presbyterian clergyman of 
 great learning and piety. He was born in 1591 ; but 
 his parentage is unknown. He appears, however, to 
 have been liberally educated ; and is said, by his 
 biographers, to have studied the classics and Belles 
 Lettres with much attention. He was thoroughly skilled 
 in every branch of theology ; and was particularly ac- 
 quainted with Jewish antiquities, and the writings of tlie 
 fathers. During the long parliament of Cromwell, he 
 was settled at Preston in Lancashire ; thence removed 
 to Garstang ; and at length ejected by the act of uni- 
 formity in 1662. He employed the remainder of his life 
 in revising his former publications, and in composing 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 new tracts. He was one of those divines who resisted 
 the Antinomian errors, which were so prevalent in his 
 time ; who taught the necessity of an inward, as well as 
 an imputed rigliteousness ; and wlio illustrated the faith 
 of the gospel as a practical and purifying principle. He 
 is described by Calamy, as " a man of substantial worth, 
 eminent piety, and exemplary life ;" and the same au- 
 thor relates of him, that " it was his usual custom, once 
 a year, for the space of a month, to retire into a little 
 hut, in a wood ; and, avoiding all human intercourse, to 
 devote himself to contemplation." He died in 1664, at 
 the age of 72. His works are, 1. The first, middle, and 
 last things ; viz. Regeneration, Sanctification, and Me- 
 ditations on Life, Death, Judgment, &c. 2. Looking 
 unto Jesus. 3. War with Devils, and ministration of 
 Angels. 4. .Sermon on redeeming the Time. — See 
 Calamy's Lives, vol. ii. {<j) 
 
 AMBROSIA, a genus of plants of the class Moncecia, 
 and order Pentandria. See IJotanv. (71;) 
 
 AMBROSIA, a species of food used by the heathen 
 deities, and supposed to have the power of healing 
 wounds, and conferring immortality, (w) 
 
 AMBROSINIA, a genus of plants of the class 
 Gynandria, and order Polyandria. See Botany, (w) 
 
 AMBROSIUS AuRELiANus, a general of the ancient 
 Britons, though of Roman extraction. He was brought 
 up at the court of Aldrocn of Armorica ; and was sent by 
 that prince into Britain, at the head of 10,000 men, with 
 a view to aid the southern inhabitants of the island 
 against the Saxons. These freebooters had been invited 
 from the continent, and having delivered the Britons 
 from the attacks of the Picts and Scots, had kept pos- 
 session of their country for themselves. Ambrosius had 
 no sooner landed than he began his operations. He de- 
 feated the Saxons in many battles, and compelled Vor- 
 tigern, with such of the Britons as adhered to him, to 
 give up all the western part of the kingdom, which was 
 immediately subjected to his authority. This division 
 was separated from the eastern by the highway, called 
 VVatling Street. Some tiiue after, the fortune of Vor- 
 tigern declining, he was deserted by many of his troops, 
 and retired into Wales. He was followed by Ambro- 
 sius, and closely besieged : but the castle in which he 
 was shut up having taken fire, he perished in the con- 
 flagration, and left his rival sole monarch of Britain. 
 Ambrosius now directed his attention to the internal 
 administration of his kingdom. He therefore assembled 
 the chief men and first captains of the empire at York, 
 and gave orders for repairing the churches, and res- 
 toring the public worship of God, which had been 
 shamefully neglected during the struggle with the 
 Saxons. This conduct has procured for Ambrosius no 
 small share of commendation from the monkish his- 
 torians who have written of his actions; and it has per- 
 haps contributed to the very high character which 
 Geoffrey of Monmouth has drawn of that successful 
 leader. " He was," says he, " a man of such bravery 
 and courage, that when he was in Gaul, no one durst 
 enter the lists with him ; for he was sure to unhorse his 
 antagonist, or to break his spear into shivers. He was, 
 moreover, generous in bestowing, careful in perform- 
 ing religious duties, moderate in all things, and more 
 especially abhorred a lie. He was strong on foot, 
 stronger on horseback, and perfectly qualified to com- 
 mand an army." The same historian ascribes the build- 
 ing of Stonehenge, near Salisbury in Wiltshire, to Am- 
 brosius, and gives a long account of the magicians, 
 4 D
 
 578 
 
 AME 
 
 giants, and others, whom the king employed as his 
 assistants, or who were in oneway or anotncr concerned 
 in the undertaking. He likewise states, that Am- 
 brosias was slain by Eopa, a Saxon ; but the common 
 opinion is, that he was killed in a battle, wiiich he louglit 
 witli Ccrdic, a general of the same people, about the year 
 508. {h) 
 
 AMBUBAJjE, among the Romans, were a set of 
 lascivious minstrels, resembling the almeh of eastern na- 
 tions, who sujiported themselves by dancing, playing on 
 the flute, and by the prosiitution of their persons. 
 These festivals are said to have been of Syrian origin, 
 and to have derived their name liom abud, a Syriac 
 word, signifying a flute. Antiquaries have disputed upon 
 
 AME 
 
 this subject without being able to obtain any satisfactory 
 conclubion. Sec Horace, lib. i. 2. Sueton. in JV'cr. 27. (w) 
 
 AMliULlA,a genus of plums ot the class Didynamia, 
 and order Angiospermia. See Uotany. (to) 
 
 AMBUSCADE, or Ambush, in military tactics, is the 
 place where a body of men conceal themselves, in order 
 to fall unexpectedly upon the enemy, (c) • 
 
 AMEDABAD. See Ahmedabad. 
 
 AMELLUS, or Stahwort, a genus of plants of the 
 class Syngenesia, and order Polygamia supcrllua. See 
 Botany, (to) 
 
 AMERCEMENT, or AMEHCiAMEKT,in English law, 
 is an arbitrary fine imposed upon an ofl'ender by the 
 court, and not determined by any statute. {J) 
 
 AlViERICA. 
 
 1. America is a great continent, situated between the 
 Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, and reaching from the 54th, 
 or if ihe Terra del Fuego be included, from the 56th de- 
 gree of South latitude to the unknown regions of the Arc- 
 tic circle. It extends in longitude from the 35th to the 
 170th deg. west of the meridian of Greenwich. It is sepa- 
 rated from Europe and Africa by the Atlantic, or Western 
 Ocean ; and from Asia, by the Pacific Ocean ; or Great 
 South Sea ; and is fitted, by its position, for carrying on a 
 direct intercourse with the other three quarters of the 
 globe. America is divided into two grand portions ; 
 North America, and South America. These are joined 
 together at about 9" N. Lat. by the isthmus of Panama, 
 which is only 60 miles in breadth ; and which, together 
 with the northern and southern continents, forms the 
 vast Gulf of Mexico. In North America, which reaches 
 from 9° 30'. N. Lat. to 70° or 75°, or perhaps to a 
 parallel still nearer the pole, and from 50" to 170° W. 
 Long, are comprehended the divisions of Labradok, 
 Canada, the United Statrs of America, Florida, 
 Louisiana, California, Mexico, and others of less 
 note ; and in South America, extending from about 
 12° N. Lat. to 56° of S. Lat. and from 35° to 82° W. 
 Long, are included those of Terra Fikma, and New 
 Granada, Peru, Guiana, Brazil, Paraguay, Chili, 
 Patagonia, and the Terra del Fuego. For the 
 particular geography and history of these provinces, 
 we refer to the articles attached to, their respective 
 names. 
 
 2. The chief rivers of North America, are the 
 Mississippi, and the Ohio, the Illinois, and Missouri, 
 which run into it ; the St Lawrence, the Potomac, the 
 Delaware, the Hudson, the Rio Bravo, or Rio del Norte, 
 and the Oregon, or River of the West. Those of South 
 America are the Oroonoco ; the River of the Amazons, 
 or Maragiion ; and the Rio de la Plata, or Parana. 
 The principal mountains of the New World, are the 
 Andes in the South ; and the Stony, and Allegany, 
 or Appalachian mountains in the North. (Sec the arti- 
 cles under the names of these rivers and mountains.) 
 As it would be impossible in a work like the present, to 
 mention here all the islands, bays, and capes belon^inp; 
 to this extensive continent, those who wish for distinct 
 and minute information, with rec;ard to these particulars, 
 may consult the works referred to at the end of tliis 
 article, under tlie title of, Books relating to the geogra- 
 phy of America. 
 
 3. The discovery of America, prior to the expedi- 
 tion of Columbus, has been claimed by several nations. 
 The Welsh historians and antiquaries have affirmed, 
 that Madoc, a prince of their country, quitted his native 
 land in the year 1170, and sailing westward, arrived at 
 those regions to which the name of America was after- 
 wards given. But the traditions on which the authority 
 of this account must ultimately rest, are confused and 
 discordant, as well as remote ; (Lyttelton, Hist, of Henry 
 II. 1. V. p. 371.) and the report of a tribe of Indians, who 
 are said to have been found in North America, and to 
 speak a language which bears some resemblance to the 
 Welsh, is equally unworthy of credit. 
 
 The pretensions of the Norwegians to the discovery 
 of the New World, appear to be better founded. There 
 is unquestioned evidence that they settled in Iceland 
 A. D. 874, and in the year 982 they landed upon Green- 
 land, and established themselves in that country. From 
 Greenland they sailed towards the west ; and if we 
 give credit to Snorro Sturlosons, in his Chronicle of 
 Olaus, p. 104, 110, 326, they reached a countiy more 
 pleasant and inviting than the inhospitable regions which 
 they had left. Here they remained for some time, and 
 planted a colony. The account of Snorro, however, is 
 liable to many objections. The tale of the discoveries 
 of Lief and Biorn, the Norwegian adventurers, is ut- 
 terlv confused. It is not easy to gather from it on what 
 part of America they settled, though, from the length of 
 the days and nights at the time of the year when they 
 arrived, it must have been some part of Labrador, and 
 as far north as the SSth degree ; yet as they gave to the 
 region, wherever it was, the name of Vinland, from the 
 grapes which they found there, it seems to be evident, 
 that it must have approoched much nearer to the south. 
 (Mallet. Introd.a I' Hist, de Danne7narc, p. 175.) But 
 notwithstanding this difficulty, and others which could 
 be mentioned, it is generally allowed, that the Nor- 
 wegians b.nded on the American shore, and that a colony 
 planted bv adventurers from that nation existed for 
 some time in the New World. The settlers, however, 
 torn by divisions anions'; themselves, and forg^otten or 
 nep-lected by their countrymen, speedily perished. 
 
 The claim of the Germans is more questionable than 
 that of the Norwegians. From the arcliivcs of the city 
 of Nuremberfx it appears, that Martin Behaim, or Be- 
 hcnira, a mtive of that city, and the pupil of Reoio- 
 aiontanus, had made such advances in cosmographical
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 571^ 
 
 knowledge, as led him to visit those parts of the woiUl, 
 the situutioji and physical properties ol whicli he had 
 been ai,cu*l,oiiied to describe, but which had not as yet 
 been sulliciciitiy explored. VVitli this view, lie entered 
 the scrv.ce ot tlie Portuguese, and was emplojed, A. D. 
 1483, as the conunander of a squadron, hited out ibr 
 the purposes ot discovery. Alter having- established 
 himsell'at Fayal, one ot tnc islands called the Azores, 
 he IS reported to have sailed lar towards the east and 
 south, and to have reached tlie coast ol Guinea, nearly 
 eig-tit years before tUe expedition of Coiuniijus. He 
 was the intimate friend and frequent associate of the 
 Genoese navigator ; and, upon his visit to Nuremberg, 
 in the year 1492, he coustruci.ed a terrestrial globe, 
 from the inspection of wiuch, Magellan is said to have 
 formed the design of pursuhig me course which he af- 
 terwards followed. (See two papers in Nicnolson's 
 Journal, yo\. i. pp. 73. and 107.) Jiul as Behaim was the 
 friend and associate of Columbus, it is as probable that he 
 derived his ideas of the unexplored regions from tiie 
 conjectures which the latter had for many years been 
 revolving in his mind, as it is, that Columbus was hi- 
 debted to Behaim for his first thoughts of the western 
 continent. Nor is it at all certain that Behaim ever 
 visited any part of America. A copy of the map which 
 was drawn with his own hand, and left with his family 
 at Nuremberg, has been published by Dopplemayer, in 
 his account of the mathematicians and artists of that 
 place : but it is remarkable for little else than the im- 
 pertection of the cosmographical knowledge of those 
 times. It is true, Behaim delineates an island to which 
 he gives the name of St Brandon, and wliich he places 
 considerably to the west of Africa. This, liowever, ap- 
 pears to be nothing more than one of those imaginary 
 islands which were often introduced at that period to 
 occupy an empty space in the charts of geographers ; and 
 the existence of which rested on authority equally ques- 
 tionable with that which is given for the legend of St 
 Brandon himself 
 
 Of the pretensions of the Welsh, or the attempts of 
 the Scandinavians, we have no reason to believe that 
 Columbus. had any knowledge; and since the claim of 
 Behaim is extremely doubtful, we may still consider the 
 Genoese navigator as entitled to his full share of honour 
 in the discovery of America. 
 
 At a time when darkness had long settled upon Eu- 
 rope, when science was beginning only to lift its head, 
 and the guides to knowledge were fev/, and often igno- 
 rant themselves, Christopher Coiumbus of Genoa for- 
 med the design of crossing the Atlantic, in search of 
 new countries towards the west. This extraordinary 
 man was led to the belief that these countries existed, 
 by a number of conspiring- circumstances. Though, in 
 the fifteenth century, the information of such as addic- 
 ted themselves to geographical inquiries, was incorrect 
 as well as narrow; though philosophers had at this time 
 made but little progress in the search after truth ; yet 
 certain steps had been taken, and certain observations 
 recorded, which, if not highly useful in themselves, were 
 very beneficial in the consequences to which they gave 
 rise. Even in that age, those who were accustomed to 
 read and to reflect, had formed pretty accurate ideas with 
 regard to the magnitude of the earth. From the sha- 
 dow which is thrown upon the moon in an eclipse of 
 that satellite, they had inferred, that the globe on which 
 we live was round. It was perceived, that Europe, 
 -\sia, and Africa, occupied but a small portion' of our 
 
 planet ; and it seemed to be altogether unlikely, that 
 ttie remaining pait was covered with a vast and joyless 
 ocean, unsupplied with continents or islands intended 
 forthe residence of man. Marcus I'aulus, a Venetian ol 
 good lamily, and others, wlio had travelled by land into 
 India, and penetrated into ihe legions beyond tlie Gan- 
 ges, had related, that the Asiatic couniries stretched far 
 towards tlie east ; so that, tlie rotunciity ot the carlli 
 being known, it was obvious that tliey migh. be reached 
 by holding a course directly west, sooner and more cer- 
 tainly than by any other way. The efficacy of these 
 reasonings was conlirmed by other circumstances of an 
 inferior, but perhaps of a more striking nature. Several 
 pieces of wood, nicely carved, and apparently from a 
 distant country, liad been thrown upon the western coast, 
 of the Madeiras. A tree, likewise, of a species with 
 which Europeans were unacquain ed,had been taken up 
 near the Azores ; and, what was still more decisive, the 
 bodies of two men, of a strange colour, and unusual ap- 
 pearance, had been tound upon the coast. From all 
 these circumstances Coiumbus interred, that the lands 
 which he afterwards visited really existed ; and that 
 they might unquestionably be readied by following the 
 course which he pointed out. Still, however, the exist- 
 ence of these lands was nothing more than a plausiiile 
 conjecture ; and it might have remained as such in the 
 thoughts or the books of the ingenious, if Columljus had 
 not been prompted by considerations of a more elfec- 
 tual nature, to ascertain wliether they could actually be 
 visited. 
 
 To discover a passage to the East Indies by sea, was 
 at this time the great object of investigation. The Ve- 
 netians had long engrossed the profitable trade of that 
 country ; and their wealth, arising chiefly from this 
 source, had excited the envy and the hatred of all the 
 European kingdoms. From the beginning of the fif- 
 teenth century, the Portuguese navigators had been 
 stretching towards the south of Africa ; and had found, 
 in opposition to the ancient geographers, that the torrid 
 zone was habitable. It was the period of bold and haz- 
 ardous adventure. The human mind was stimulated to 
 its utmost activity. Whatever appeared to be true, or 
 even remotely probable, was instantly ascertained by di- 
 rect and fearless experiment. New iblands were dis- 
 covered ; unknown regions were traversed and explored. 
 Partly by design, and partly by the violence of the 
 winds, the Portuguese had doubled the Cape of Good 
 Hope, and reached the coast of Malabar ; they had tra- 
 ded successfully with the inhaljilants of India ; and the 
 riches of eastern commerce had been poured into their 
 native country. To find, therefore, a shorter, and more 
 definite route to India, was the immediate object of Co- 
 lumbus, in proposing to undertake a voyage of dis- 
 covery. The riches of the east were the bribe which 
 he held out to the sovereign, or the state, that should 
 enable him to execute his purpose ; and it is not to be 
 denied, that the prospect of wealth had a similar effect 
 upon himself. 
 
 But none of the nionarchs or rulers of Europe had 
 either sufficient reach of thought to comprehend tlie 
 schemes of Columbus, or sufficient generosity to en- 
 courage an adventurous speculation, even vvith the pro- 
 bability of the fullest return from the success of the un- 
 dertaking. He was considered as a dreamer by many. 
 He was rejected by the dignified and the great, because 
 he was a man of low condition ; and he was repelled by 
 the learned, because they were mortified to hear that 
 4 D
 
 580 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 an obscure pilot liad luund what had escaped the dis- 
 cernmcnl of more cultivated minds. He applied, first to 
 the Genoese, his countrymen, who were sauslied with 
 the productions ol' India as they were brought to their 
 hands ; then to the Portuguese, whose bishops and 
 physicians objected to his design with every argument 
 which their ignorance or ingenuity could supply, and 
 among whom he was almost deprived, by treachery, of 
 the honour which would attach to the discoverer of the 
 New World ; then to Spain ; and then, by means of Bar- 
 tholomew, his brother, to Henry VH. of England. All 
 these applications, however, were unsuccessful ; objec- 
 tions were every where raised, and difficulties exhibited ; 
 the refusal of one monarch was urged as a reason for a 
 similar conduct on the part of another ; and had not the 
 perseverance of Columbus been equal to his genius, the 
 American continent might yet have been unknown to 
 the inhabitants of Europe. 
 
 But the time was not far distant when more encour- 
 aging prospects were about to open. The Moors had 
 been driven from Spain, and Ferdinand and Isabella, the 
 sovereigns of that country, had leisure for attending to 
 objects which pressed less immediately upon their notice. 
 The chivalrous spirit of the age had been sufficiently 
 employed in the contest with the African intruders ; but 
 now, it wanted some other object, and required to be 
 guided into a different channel. Columbus, disappointed, 
 but not moved from his purpose, was at this time about 
 to quit the Spanish territories for England, whither his 
 brother Bartholomew had already been sent. By the 
 orders of Isabella, he was desired to rclintjuish his in- 
 tention of soliciting the patronage of foreign courts ; and 
 invited into her presence, with every mark of condescen- 
 sion and respect. The character and dispositions of 
 Columbus were such as highly recommended him to the 
 rulers of Spain. To that quickness and decision which 
 are the usual indications of genius, he added, that so- 
 lemnity of aspect, and gravity of manners, which the 
 Spaniards cultivate with so much care, and which con- 
 tribute to distinguish them from the other nations of 
 Europe. His appearance was dignified, and his beha- 
 viour respectful ; he was resolute in his purposes, and 
 firm in his demands. At his interview with Isabella, he 
 relaxed in nothing of what he had originally proposed : 
 the conditions on which he declared himself willing to 
 undertake the expedition were still the same ; — that he 
 should be appointed admiral of all the seas which he 
 might explore, and governor of all the continents and 
 islands which he might visit ; that tliese offices should 
 be hereditary in his family ; and " that the tenth of 
 every thing bought, bartered, found, or got, within the 
 bounds of his admiralship, abating only the charge of the 
 conquest," should be settled upon him, and should de- 
 scend to his heirs in case of his death, (^-{/e 'jf Culuin- 
 hus, chap, xiv.) It was his desii'e that a small fleet 
 should be equipped and put under his command, in or- 
 der that he might attempt the discovery ; and to demon- 
 strate his integrity, as well as his firm hope of success, 
 he offered to advance an eighth part of the money which 
 would be necessary for building the ships, provided he 
 were allowed a corresponding share of the advantage re- 
 sulting from the entcrprize. John Perez, guardian of 
 the monastery of Rabida, near the town of Palos, and the 
 friend and confident of Columbus, was the person to 
 whom he was indebted fur this interview with Isabella. 
 He was confessor to the queen, and an ecclesiastic of 
 great respectability and influence. By his representa- 
 
 tions, and by those of Alonzo de Quintanilla, and 
 Lewis de Santangcl, both officers in high place under 
 tlic Spanish crown, a favourable ear was lent to the pro- 
 positions of the Genoese adventurer. They stated to 
 Isabella, that he was a person of a soimd and collected 
 mind, of acknowledged integrity, well informed in geo- 
 graphy and history, and practised in the art of naviga- 
 tion ; they spoke to her of the glory which would result 
 from the success of the entcrprize, and which would for 
 ever attach to her reign ; and of the extension of the 
 Christian faith, which would be promulgated in the re- 
 gions that might be discovered. The time was propi- 
 tious. Granada had surrendered to the arms of Spain ; 
 and the Moors were expelled from the provinces which 
 they had long occupied in the heart of the kingdom. 
 And such were the exertions of Quintanilla and of San- 
 tangel, that Isabella resolved to patronise Columbus, and 
 engage him in her service on his own terms. Orders 
 were issued, that a squadron should be fitted out from 
 the harbour of Palos. It consisted of three vessels: but 
 as the art of building ships was then rude, and in its in- 
 fancy, and as distant voyages weie comparatively un- 
 known, the largest of these vessels was of inconsidera- 
 ble dimensions, and the others were not much above the 
 size of ordinary boats. They were victualled for twelve- 
 months, and had on board ninety men. The expense of 
 building and equipping the whole was not more than 
 L.4000 ; yet the greatness of this expense was the cause 
 of much serious alarm to the Spanish rulers, and contri- 
 buted not a little to prevent them from acceeding to the 
 proposals of Columbus. 
 
 All. things being ready, Columbus influenced by de- 
 votional feelings, went, with those under his authority, 
 in soleiTln procession to the monastery of Rabida ; and 
 there, confessing his sins, and partaking of the sacra- 
 ment, he implored the blessing of heaven throughout the 
 voyage which he designed to undertake. 
 
 Early next morning, (on the 3d of August, A. D. 
 1492,) he set sail from the harbour of Palos, in the Santa 
 Maria, the largest of the vessels which had been fitted 
 out at his desire. The others were called the Pinta, 
 and the Nina ; the former of which was commanded by 
 Martin Alonzo Pinzon, and the latter by Vincent Yanaz 
 Pmzon, his brother. In six days the admiral reached 
 the Canaries without any occurrence deserving of par- 
 ticular notice, except only that the rudder of the Pinta 
 broke loose ; an accident which the superstition of his 
 associates interpreted as an omen, at once unfavourable 
 and alarming. After refitting at the Canaries, Colum- 
 bus proceeded (Sept. 6.) on his voyage. He passed into 
 seas which no vessel had yet entered, without a chart to 
 direct him, and without any knowledge of the tides and 
 currents which might interrupt his progress. And 
 many of the sailors, reflecting on the hazardous nature 
 of the entcrprize, began already to beat their breasts in 
 dejection and dismay, and relinquished all hope of visit- 
 ing again their country and their friends. 
 
 Columbus was admirably qualified for the expedition 
 which he had undertaken. He was patient and perse- 
 vering, master of himself, and skilful in the government 
 of other men. In naval science, as well as experience, 
 he was far superior to any of his associates. He con- 
 ducted every thing by his presence and authority, al- 
 lowing himself only a very few hours for the necessary 
 refreshment of his body. At all other times he was 
 upon deck, watching the flight of birds, ascertaining the 
 depth of the ocean, and marking the appearance of the
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 581 
 
 weeds which floated upon its surface. He moved ra- 
 pidly before the trade wind, which blows invariably 
 irom the east within the tropics, judiciously concealing 
 from his men the number of leagues which he had sailed ; 
 an artifice which he employed during the rest of the 
 voyage. Nor did any bad coiisequence result from this 
 imposition ; for so great was the ignorance of his com- 
 panions, that none of them was able to detect it. About 
 the 14th of September, Columbus was distant nearly 200 
 leagues from the most westerly of tlie Canaries ; and 
 here the magnetic needle was observed to vary from its 
 direction to the polar star, and incline towards the west ; 
 an appearance which is now familiar, but for which phi- 
 losophy has in vain attempted to account. It was the oc- 
 casion of serious alarm in the breast of Columbus, and 
 it filled his associates with a terror, by no means un- 
 reasonable. Tney were far from land, and far from the 
 tract of other navigators ; all around them was uncertain ; 
 all before them was unlinown ; nature seemed to be de- 
 parting from her steadiness, and the guide on which 
 they had formerly relied, appeared to be no longer en- 
 titled to their confidence. With astonishing presence 
 of mind, Columbus declared, that the neecllc did not . 
 point directly to the pole, but that in particular circum- 
 stances U described a compass round it ; a solution, 
 which, though it was wholly unsatisfactory to himself, 
 had the effect of silencing the murmurs of his crew. 
 See Churchill's Voyages, vol. ii. p. 504. 
 
 The alarm, however, to which the variation of the 
 needle gave rise, was not the only difficulty which Co- 
 lumbus had to surmount. In a short time after that 
 phenomenon had been observed, the murmurs of his 
 sailors broke outv/ith greater violence; first among the 
 ignorant and wavering ; but the disaffection, spreading 
 gradually, reached at length those who were more ad- 
 venturous and better informed, and extended with un- 
 propitious influence through the whole fleet. The men 
 blamed their sovereign for listening inconsiderately to 
 the schemes of a dreaming adventurer, and for sporting 
 with the lives of his subjects, in order to carry them 
 into execution. The indications of land had all proved 
 fallacious : They would be amused and deceived no 
 longer: They agreed that Columbus should be forced 
 to relinquish an undertaking, which seemed to issue in 
 nothing but unavoidable destruction; and some of the 
 more daring talked of throwing him into the sea as a vi- 
 sionai-y projector, whose death would never be inquired 
 into, or, if inquired into, would be considered as merited 
 by his rashness and folly. 
 
 In the midst of this disaffection, the admiral appeared 
 with a steady and cheerful countenance, as if pleased 
 with what he had done, and a stranger to despondency. 
 He soothed his companions, and expostulated with them ; 
 he endeavoured at one time to influence their desire of 
 riches, and at another their love of fame; he assumed a 
 tone of authority, and threatened them with the ven- 
 geance of their sovereign, and with everlasting infamy, 
 if they should abandon him in the prosecution of the un- 
 dertaking. These encouragements and expostulations 
 were not without their effect. But the apprehensions of 
 the crew at length prevailed over the remonstrances of 
 the admiral; they assembled tumultuously upon deck, 
 and, officers and men, all insisted upon returning im- 
 mediately to Spain. In these alarming circumstances, 
 Columbus perceived tliat opposition would be danger- 
 ous : he therefore yielded to their importunity so far, as 
 
 to propose that they should continue the voyage for 
 three days more, and that, if at the end of that period 
 no land were discovered, he should instantly return. 
 Notwitlistanding the nmtinous disposition of the sailors, 
 and their ardent desire to revisit their native country, 
 this proposal did not ajjpear to them extravagant or un- 
 fair ; and tlie admiral in making it did not hazard a great 
 deal, by restrictuig himself to so short a time. The no- 
 tices of land were almost indubitable. The water had 
 gradually become more shallow ; flocks of strange birds 
 were seen ; a stafl" curiously wrought and adorned had 
 been taken up by the Pinta, and weeds of a kind different 
 from anv which they had hitherto observed. A cane 
 which seemed to have been lately cut, and a thorn with 
 red fruit upon it, were found and examined. A light 
 was perceived at a distance, and appeared to move from 
 place to place, as if carried by some fisherman or travel- 
 ler. These tokens were decisive and joyous ; and Co- 
 lumbus did not fail to make use of them, in elevating 
 tlie hopes, and diminishing the apprehensions of his as- 
 sociates. He gave orders that the ships should lie to; 
 and, at length, on the morning of the 12th of October, 
 an island appeared about six miles to the north, with 
 extensive, flat, and verdant fields, furnished with woods, 
 and diversified by rivulets. The crew of the Pinta be- 
 gan the Te Dcuin, and they were instantly joined by the 
 rest of their companions. This expression of gratitude 
 to the Almighty was followed by acknowledgments of 
 their rashness and disobedience towards their command- 
 er; and, like those who are suddenly and greatlv moved 
 by the vicissitudes of fortune, they passed from one ex- 
 treme to another, and looked up to the man, whom, a few 
 days before, they had reviled and insulted, as one whom 
 the Deity had endowed with penetration and perseve- 
 rance above the common lot of mortals. 
 
 When the sun arose, Columbus landed in a gorgeous 
 dress; and with a drawn sword in his hand and the royal 
 standard displayed, took possession of the island for the 
 crown of Castile and Leon; all his followers kneeling 
 on the shore, and kissing the ground with tears of joy. 
 The natives, who had assembled in great numbers, on 
 the first appearance of the ships, stood around the Spa- 
 niards, and gazed in speechless astonishment ; utterly- 
 ignorant of what the Europeans were doing, and unable 
 to foresee the dreadful consequences which were to re- 
 sult from this visit of the formidable strangers. They 
 considered their new guests as beings of a higher or- 
 der, who had the thunder and the lightning at their com- 
 mand; they regarded them as the children of the sun, 
 who had descended from heaven to abide for a little 
 among the inhabitants of the earth. See Herrera, dec. i, 
 lib. i. c. 13. and the Life of Columbus, c. 22, 23. 
 
 Amidst the splendour of discovery, and the success 
 of adventurous speculation, let us pause for a moment, 
 and inquire by what right the Spaniards were authorized 
 to consider themselves as the masters of a country to 
 which they were strangers, and which, a little before, 
 they had only conjectured to exist. They were not 
 the first occupants, for others were already in posses- 
 sion. The mere circumstance of having crossed the 
 Atlantic would surely not entitle them to regard the 
 islands which they had visited as their own. Here the 
 causes which lead to invasion and to conquest among 
 European nations, cannot be allowed to have any place. 
 The Spaniards had no differences to adjust with the 
 inhabitants of America, and no shadow of a pretence
 
 582 
 
 AMEHICA. 
 
 for interfering with them in llic naanagement of their 
 concerns. It is true, that, after the return ol Co.umbus, 
 the pope granted in full right to tiie sovereigns of 
 Spain, all the countries possessed by infidels, except 
 those which he had before given to the Portuguese ; 
 and, in the ignorance of the lilieenlh century, and tlie 
 pleniuide of apostolical power, it was not deinecl that it 
 belonged to hini lo do so. At the present time, how- 
 ever, no man will contend for the autnorily of the pope, 
 to d spose of kingdoms. That authoiity which, by 
 checkuig inquiry, brought darkness and depression along 
 with it, has been overtlirown in a great partol Europe, 
 and restrained and limited where it has not been over- 
 thrown. But history records, and laments while she 
 records, thai the propagation of the Christian faith was 
 held out as the chief reason for taking possession of 
 America; and that it was ever thought, that tlie reli- 
 gion of Jesus could be promoted by the injustice, cru- 
 elty, bloodshed, and slavery, which the unprotected 
 islanders of the New World were destined to experience 
 from their unprincipled invaders. 
 
 The island on which Columbus landed was called by 
 the natives Guanahani, but by the admiral, San Salva- 
 dor. It is one of that group of islands which are named 
 the Bahamas, and is situated above 3000 miles from Go- 
 niara, the most westerly of the Canaries, and only four 
 degrees to the south of it. Columbus also discovered, 
 and touched at manv of the islands which are situated in 
 the neighbourhood of the Bahamas, and, conformably to 
 the theory which he had adopted, he believed them to 
 be at no great distance from India. They were consi- 
 dered as attached to that unexplored country ; and, as 
 they had been reached by a western passage, they were 
 called the West Indies. Even when increasing know- 
 ledge had detected the error, the appellation was conti- 
 nued; and it is still given to these islands. Columbus 
 undertook several voyages to the Nc\y World, planted 
 a colony, and built a city, in the island of Hispaniola, or 
 St Domingo. To this city he gave the name of Isabella, 
 in honour of the queen, under whose patronage he had 
 sailed. At length, in his third expedition, he discover- 
 ed the continent of America, landing at different places 
 on the coasts of Paria and Cuniana, and surveying their 
 beauty and fertility with rapturous pleasure. But 
 Americus Vespucius, a Florentine gentleman, who vi- 
 sited that continent some years after Columbus, and 
 transmitted to his friends in Europe a history of his ad- 
 ventures, written with considerable elegance, and with 
 much vanity, had the address so to frame his narrative 
 as to pass for the discoverer of the main land in the New 
 World, and to rob Columbus of the honour which he so 
 justly deserved. The consent of all nations has bestow- 
 ed the name of America on the western continent ; and 
 at this distance of time, we can only regret an act of 
 injustice which custom has forced us to sanction. — (See 
 Vespucius.) At what period this appellation was given, 
 we have not the means of ascertaining with accuracy. 
 
 For a short history of the progress which the Spa- 
 niards made in the American continent, under Cortes 
 and Pizarro, we refer to the articles Mexico and Peru, 
 where the reader will likewise find some observations 
 on the inhabitants of those countries, and the state of 
 knowledge, and of the arts among them, at the time of 
 the Spanish conquests. For an account of the animals, 
 vegetables, and minerals, which belong to the New 
 World, see the articles, Botany, Oryctognosy, and 
 the other branches of Natural History. 
 
 I. Tlie General Aspect of the American Continent, 
 
 When we cast our eyes on the western world, or, at 
 least, on those parts of it which are habitable, the fust 
 thing which strikes us is its extraordinary magnitude. 
 If we compare it with Europe, Asia, or Africa, tlie 
 known divisions of the eastern hemisphere, we shall 
 find that it is no less clistinguishcii from them by its 
 size, than by other appearances wnicli are peculiar to 
 itself. Excepting the Gulf of Mcxic j, it is broken by 
 no sea to which tlie name of Mcuiterranean can be ap- 
 plied : but its rivers are large and rapid, beyond those 
 of the ancient continent, and, after falling into the ocean, 
 they give rise to currents wliich are perceptible at a 
 very great distance from their mouths. The Marag- 
 non, or River of the Amazons, the Oroonoco, and the 
 Plata, in South America, and the Mississippi and St 
 Lawrence, in North America, are all conspicuous for 
 the width of the channels in v.'hich they flow, and the 
 prodigious mass of waters which they roll into the 
 ocean. The mouth of the river La Plata is 150 miles 
 in breadth, and that of the Maragnon is still more ex- 
 tensive. In the western continent, the operations of 
 nature seem to have been conducted on a larger scale, 
 and with a greater proportion of materials, thanin anv 
 other quarter of the globe. All is noble and magnifi- 
 cent. The Alps and Pyrenees shik before the Andes, 
 whose bases, in many places, reach nearly the same 
 height with the most elevated land of the eastern hemi- 
 sphere. Chimborago, the loftiest point of the Andes, is 
 20,280 feet above the level of the sea, and 5000 feet 
 higher than Mont Blanc. As the mountains of the New 
 World are elevated and grand, so its plains are exten- 
 sive and beautiful. In some places, and at certain sea- 
 sons of the year, the eye feels its imperfection when it 
 attempts to look over the verdant surface, and the travel- 
 ler wisiies in vain for rocks and woods to relieve his 
 sight. In other places, the forests, composed of the 
 largest trees and the thickest brushwood, are widely 
 extended, and almost impenetrable, except to the ani- 
 mals which occupy them, or to tlie savages by whom 
 those animals arc pursued. Its lakes are equally re- 
 markable. In North America, a chain of lakes extends 
 from east to west, with which the Old W^orld has no- 
 thing to compare. They ought rather to be called in- 
 land seas than lakes. Each of them rivals the Caspian 
 in magnitude; and, that sea excepted, the lakes of a se- 
 cond, or even of a third class in America, equal, if they 
 do not excel, the greatest collection of water of which 
 the Old World can boast, {h) 
 
 II. The Climate of America. 
 
 If the continent of America be distinguished from the 
 Old World by the grandeur of its general features, it 
 exhibits a contrast not less remarkalile in the wide di- 
 versity of its climate. On this interesting subject much 
 has been written, and many loose and fanciful theories 
 advanced ; but amidst all the profusion of remarks, we 
 seek in vain for any thing like accuracy of detail. Me-, 
 teorology, as a science, is yet in its infancy ; several in- 
 struments of essential importance are still wanting, or 
 very little known; and the delicate art of observing 
 seems to make a slow and doubtful progress. Concern- 
 ing the nature of the climate of America, we must, 
 therefore, content ourselves at present with a meagre 
 and unfinished outline. Yet from a close examination of
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 385 
 
 such imperfect facts as are within our reach, we shall, 
 pcihaps, be able lo dispel soiui; ol the obscurity luat 
 hangs over the subject, to corrcci certain erroneous 
 ophiions which have prevailed, and to place the whole 
 matter in a light which will belter harmonize with the 
 general laws ot nature. 
 
 It is well known that islands, from the proximity of 
 the balancuig influence of the ocean, enjoy a more equa- 
 ble temperature than extensive continents. But the 
 continent of America suffers the impressions of heat and 
 cold in their widest range, and with their most rapid 
 changes. In most parts of that vast region, the sum- 
 rners are extremely sultry, and the winters proportion- 
 ally severe. Nor are the transitions less extraordinary. 
 The magnificent rivers of North America are not un- 
 frequently frozen over in a single night. Even in the 
 state of Virginia, which is advanced so far towards the 
 south, an intense frost will often, within the space of 
 twenty-four hours, succeed to oppressive heats. Tra- 
 vellers, who have visited that country, relate with asto- 
 nishment, that, after passing a sultry day, and retiring to 
 rest, they have sometimes awakened at an early hour, 
 benumbed with cold, and have found the part of the co- 
 verlet which was exposed to their breath, crusted over 
 with solid ice.* In Virginia, and the more southern 
 states of America, a curious phajnomenon at times oc- 
 curs in winter. The rain congeals the moment it falls; 
 the lofty forests of pine and cedar soon groan under a 
 Joad of pendant icicles ; and while the rays of a vivid sun 
 play among those lustres, the whole assemblage of ob- 
 jects forms a spectacle of the most dazzling brilliancy 
 and enchanting magnificence. Towards the northern 
 parts of the American continent, the summers are still 
 hot, but of very short duration ; the winter sets in early, 
 and with excessive rigour. About Hudson's Bay, in the 
 depth of the season, the snow appears not in flakes, but 
 resembles the finest sand, which, if blown against the 
 face, gives such an acute sensation as to excoriate the 
 skin. In that remote settlement, the rivers are frequent- 
 ly covered with ice eight feet thick. Nothing can resist 
 the intense action of the frost; the strongest liquors are 
 converted into a solid cake, and trees are sometimes split 
 with violent explosion. Nor are these effects compen- 
 sated by the return of a transient summer. The frozen 
 ground is only thawed to the depth of two or three feet, 
 and below that has a perpetual bed of ice. " In the New 
 World," says Dr Robertson, " cold predomhiates. The 
 rigour of the frigid zone extends over half of tliose re- 
 gions, which should be temperate by their position. 
 Countries, where the grape and the fig should ripen, are 
 buried under snow one half of the year; and lands situ- 
 ated in the same parallel with the most fertile and best 
 cultivated provinces in Europe, are chilled with per- 
 petual frosts, which almost destroy the power of vege- 
 tation. As we advance to those parts of America which 
 lie in the same parallel with provinces of Asia and 
 Afi'ica, blessed with an uniform enjoyment of such ge- 
 nial warmth as is most friendly to life and to vegetation, 
 the dominion of cold continues to be felt, and winter 
 reigns, though during a short period, with extreme se- 
 veritv. If we proceed along the American continent 
 into the torrid zone, we sliall find the cold prevalent in 
 the New World, extending itself also to this region of 
 
 * This must be considered as the traveller's lice-se. 
 
 Tench Coxe. 
 
 the globe, and mitigating the excess of its fervour. 
 While the negro on the coast of Africa is scorclied with 
 unremitting heal, the inhabitant of Feiu breathes an air 
 equally mild and temperate, and is perpetually shaded 
 under a canopy of grey clouds, whicii intercepts the 
 fierce beams ol the sun, without oljsiructing his friendly 
 influence. Along the eastern coast of America, the 
 climate, though more similar to that ot the torrid zone 
 in other parts of the earth, is nevertheless considerably 
 milder than in other countries of Asia and Africa which 
 lie in the same latitude. If from the soutliern tropic 
 we continue our progress to the extremity of the Ame- 
 rican continent, we meet with irozen seas, and countries, 
 horrid, barren, and scarcely habitable for cold, much 
 sooner than in the north." 
 
 Such is the notion universally entertained respecting 
 the climate of America. The New World is believed 
 on the whole to be ten degrees colder by Fahrenheit's 
 scale than the corresponding parallels in the ancient 
 continent. The character of excessive humidity has 
 likewise been ascribed to the American climate. The 
 surface of the ground, covered with a boundless extent 
 of impervious forest, never feels the direct influence of 
 the sun; while the atmosphere becomes charged with 
 moisture from the perspiration of the multiplied sur- 
 faces of the leaves. In confirmation of this principle, it 
 is asserted, that since the first settlement of North Ame- 
 rica, the climate, in proportion as cultivation spreads, 
 has grown sensibly milder, drier, and more salubrious. 
 The western continent, still cold and humid from the 
 bosom of the ocean, betrays its recent origin.* Yet the 
 persevering industry of man will in time correct the 
 defects, and subdue the luxuriance of nature; and, by 
 draining the marshes, and opening the surface of the 
 ground to the genial action of the solar beams, it will 
 not only heighten the productive powers of the soil, but 
 will gradually soften and improve the quality of the 
 atmosphere. 
 
 Much indeed can bo effected by the labour and inge- 
 nuity of man. But the theory now sketched, is, we fear, 
 to be regarded rather as the birth of a lively fancy, than 
 the offspring of accurate science. We are even disposed 
 to question the exactness of the statements on which it 
 rests. America furnishes no register of the indications 
 of the hygrometer, and with instruments so radically 
 defective, the few observations of that kind which have 
 been made in Europe, can scarcely be deemed of any 
 value. But from a simple fact noticed by Dr Franklin, 
 we may fairly conclude, that, in Pennsylvania at least, 
 the air is on the whole drier than in the neighbourhood 
 of Loidon, or even of Paris. The American philoso- 
 pher remarked, that a small mahogany case, which fitted 
 exactly in England, constantly shrunk, and became loose, 
 after having been carried across the Atlantic ; but re- 
 covered, in a great measure, its original dimensions, 
 when conveyed to France. 
 
 The cold which prevails in most parts of America 
 through the winter, is, no doubt, most intense ; but, in 
 return, those regions during summer are likewise op- 
 pressed by excessive heat. Nor have we any sufficient 
 proof that the climate of 'he New World, taking the 
 average of the seasons throughout the year, is really 
 
 *Tlie idea of a recent risinsr from the water is very 
 erroneous as to the roftinent of America, and is opposed 
 by the peculiar elevation of its mountains. Tench Coxe
 
 584 
 
 AMEKICA. 
 
 colder on the whole than in tliat of the ancient continent. 
 It is more consistent with reason to believe, that, though 
 America exhibits both extremes of the scale, yet the 
 rigours of winter are there compensaied by the scorch- 
 ing heats of summer, and that the mean temperature, 
 for a scries of years, is the same beyond the Atlantic, 
 as in any other part of the globe having tlie same lati- 
 tude and elevation. We can place very little reliance 
 on the scanty registers of the thermometer kept in 
 America.* Nay, from the mode in which such observa- 
 tions are usually made, there is an evident tendency to 
 jrive results considerably below the truili. The degrees 
 of the thermometer are generally noted in the morning 
 and the evening, and about the height of the day. But 
 not long after sun-set, the cold conthmes with very lit- 
 tle increase until day-break ; so that the cold durhig tlie 
 night is nearly stated twice in the register, while tlie 
 greatest heat of the day only appears once; and conse- 
 quently the mean of the three numbers must be really 
 less than what would have been obtained from a more 
 equal distribution. The preferable method of ascer- 
 taining the mean temperature of any place, is to exa- 
 mine the heat of the ground at some considerable depth, 
 and which may be discovered with great precision, by 
 plunging a thermometer in a copious spring, or in wa- 
 ter fresh drawn from a deep close well, or, still better, 
 in what flows from a pump which has been worked for a 
 few minutes. Earth and rock are such slow conductors 
 of heat, that, not many feet below the surface, the vicis- 
 situdes that mark the revolution of the year are con- 
 founded and lost in the uniform temperature which per- 
 vades the general mass, and which is the result of tliose 
 accumulated impressions made during a long succession 
 of ages. The heat of a well at New York, and that of 
 another at Kingston, in the island of JaiTiaica, which lies 
 in the American Archipelago, have both been carefully 
 observed, and found to agree very nearly with the tor- 
 nmla given by Professor Mayer of Gottingen, for the 
 mean temperature of the corresporfding parallels in Eu- 
 rope and Asia. It is indeed alleged, that a draw-well 
 near Philadelphia was several degrees colder; but the 
 bottom of an open pit must evidently be cooled below 
 the standard, since it will experience the full impres- 
 sion of winter without receiving the influence of sum- 
 mer, the chilled air, by its superior gravity, constant- 
 ly descending, while the warmer air hangs stagnant 
 over the mouth of the shaft. The springs about Hud- 
 son's Bay are also, it would appear, unusually cold. 
 These springs, however, are merely supei-ficial, and flow 
 through a bed of frozen earth. But if we pierced through 
 that hard crust, we should, no doubt, meet, at a certain 
 depth, with a milder and unchanging temperature. This 
 limiting depth, which, in Europe, is only about four feet, 
 must be proportionally greater in America, and particu- 
 
 * One of the best evidences of temperature is the 
 perfection of the sweet orange, in open grounds, in Lis- 
 bon of Europe, and St Augustine and New Orleans of 
 North America. The climates of the New World are 
 colder than those of Europe, in the same pai-allels of 
 latitude, probably because there is less land in the wes- 
 tern hemisphere than in tlie eastern, and more water 
 containing mountains of ice. It is to the want of land 
 and prevalence of ice in the southern hemisphere, that 
 the superior cold of the southern hemisphere is owing. 
 
 Tench CoxE. 
 
 larly towards the more northern parts, where the vicissi- 
 tudes of heat and cold are extreme. 
 
 The sun is the great fountain of heat, which is very 
 differently apportioned over the surface of our globe. 
 The annual quantity which any place receives, being 
 compounded of the force and duration ol the solar beams, 
 depends iherulore altogether on the latitude. But the 
 subsequent diffusion of that heat is performed by the 
 agency of the atmosphere, which, encirchng the earth 
 with its irregular, yet incessant motions, blends the op- 
 posite extremes, and tempers to a considerable degree 
 the original inequalities ol climate. Whether the calo- 
 rific impressions are directly made on the surface, or 
 absorbed in the clouds, or spent among the foliage of 
 the lofty trees, it hence matters little ; since they must 
 ultimately be communicated to -the ground, and be min- 
 gled in the common store. Whatever serves to facilitate 
 the motion of air along the surface, must have an in- 
 fluence to equalize, in some degree, the vicissitudes of 
 the seasons. The progress of cultivation, therefore, in 
 a new country, can have no real effect in changing the 
 mean temperature ; but, by removing the obstacles to 
 the free passage of the wind, it may contribute to soften 
 the roughness of the climate, and diminish the exces- 
 sive distance between the heat of summer and the cold 
 of winter. 
 
 If the motions of the air were quite instantaneous, 
 an uniform temperature would have been maintained 
 over the whole surface of our globe. The imperfect 
 mobility of that fluid, and the remoteness of the poles 
 from the equator, prevent the inequality of the sun's 
 action from being completely corrected, and occasion all 
 that gradation of climate which marks the successive 
 zones. 
 
 But the commixture of the higher and lower strata 
 of the atmosphere is a process incomparably easier, 
 than what is effected by the transfer and interchange 
 of the heated portions of air in the vast extended line 
 between the north and the south. The region of clouds 
 no where, perhaps, exceeds five miles in height, while 
 the distance of the poles from the equator is more than 
 six thousand miles. Evei-y part of a perpendicular co- 
 lumn of air has, therefore, an equal share of heat. But 
 though the absolute quantity of heat thus distributed 
 vertically be the same, its apparent intensity is very 
 different, and the temperature of the air, at any elevation, 
 must be inversely proportional to the capacity for heat 
 corresponding to its diminished density. The capacity 
 of atmospheric air, as affected by its density, being, 
 therefore, ascertamed from experiment, the decreasing 
 gradation of temperature, at successive heights, may 
 be thence deduced. Winds, blowing from a northern 
 quarter, will cool the surface, and those from the south 
 must warm it. We might presume, that air which has 
 traversed elevated tracts, will descend into the plain 
 impregnated with cold. Yet this notion, so generally 
 received, will appear, on examination, to be unfounded. 
 The air becoming denser in its descent, has its capacity 
 diminished, and consequently the share of heat which it 
 naturally retains, must now indicate a higher tempera- 
 ture. But Ave reserve the full discussion of this impor- 
 tant subject for the article Climate. See also Atmos- 
 phere, CAPACITY, Elevation, and Heat, (or) 
 
 III. The Human S/iecies as existing in America. 
 
 With the exception of two great nations, of which an 
 account will be given in another part of this work, (See
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 58j 
 
 Mexico and Peru,) the inhabitants of America, when 
 discovered by the Spaniards, were all in that state to 
 which the name of savasje has been applied; and there 
 was an astonishing similarity in the features of their con- 
 dition throuij;h the whole of the regions which llicy in- 
 habited. There is an infancy with regard to the human 
 mind, as well as the body. It likewise has its period of 
 imbecility, when its ideas have not been nmliiplicd by 
 education, and when its powers have not been unlblded 
 and strengthened by exercise. This is true, both of 
 nations anU of individuals. There is a time when nu- 
 merous tribes, and even the people of whole continents, 
 are elevated only a few degrees above the animals, 
 which man in his advanced and cultivated state denomi- 
 nates irrational. Their faculties may then be said to be 
 ill embryo. Their curiosity is unawakened, and the 
 sphere of all their mental operations is narrow. As yet 
 philosophy has not begun to investigate things human 
 and divine ; it is not once enquired by what means we 
 see, or hear, or feel; reasoning and research are un- 
 known ; speculation has not learnt to anticipate discove- 
 ry ; words, the vehicles of thought, are few, and as they 
 are applied to a great number of objects, their import 
 is various. In this state of the human undcrstantling 
 and attainments, the deficiencies of vocal utterance are 
 supplied by extravagant looks and gestures, and the sa- 
 vage communicates his ideas, and expresses his desires, 
 not with his tongue only, but with his whole body. 
 
 In the early stages of society, the means of subsist- 
 ence alone excite and occupy the attention of man. His 
 thoughts are limited by the severe necessity of his con- 
 dition, to his immediate support, and whatever may con- 
 tribute to it; and all beyond this either escapes his ob- 
 servation oris regarded with indifference. As his ideas 
 are scanty, so his stock of words is small. His bow and 
 arrows, the river and the wood, his friend and his ene- 
 my, constitute the vocabulary of his substantives ; and 
 to strike, and to be struck, to rise, and to lie down, to 
 cat, to drink, to sleep, and, to dance, are almost the only 
 verbs, with which he is acquainted. All his notions are 
 individual ; he has hardly a conception of a class of ob- 
 jects agreeing in some particulars, and yet differing so 
 much, as to be arranged into species, and distributed 
 into varieties. Though a member of a tribe, he cannot 
 perceive its interest as in any degree separated from 
 his own.- He never thinks of attending to one quality 
 in a substance, and of exclnding the rest from the in- 
 tellectual regard. His deities are local, invested with 
 human organs, and represented in terrific shapes ; and 
 the worship which is offered to them partakes of their 
 dreadful character. It is chiefly by examining tlie lan- 
 guage of savage nations, that we can ascertain the de- 
 gree of mental improvement which they have reached. 
 They have no words expressive of abstract or general 
 ideas, and no terms by which the operations of the mind 
 are distinguished: their whole phraseology has an im- 
 mediate reference to the senses, and is closely associ- 
 ated with objects which are without. Duration., exten- 
 sion, subject, attribute, unity, divi.iibility, and a thousand 
 other expressions always to be found in the language of 
 a thinking and a cultivated people, are entirely unknown 
 to them. The character of the American Indians cor- 
 responds exactly with these observations. The count- 
 less tribes which wander over the plains of Brazil, Pa- 
 raguay, and Guiana, or inhabit the banks of the Marag- 
 non and Oroonoco, are utterly unacciuaint'd with every 
 thing beyond the preservation of their lives, or the in- 
 
 VoL. i. Part II. 
 
 dulgencc of their appetites. Their muntal powers arc 
 unexercised and dormant ; nothing is to be seen among 
 them which implies any reach of thought, or ingenuity 
 of contrivance. Not a few of them arc destitute of 
 houses or huts, to protect themselves from the inclem- 
 ency of the weather, but roam in naked wiUlness from 
 place to place, and follow their prey, hardly to be dis- 
 tinguished from the brute creation. The people whon» 
 Columbus found in the lialianras, and some of the neigh- 
 bouring islands, were in a siluation not very dilicrent. 
 An extreme simplicity, which ran through all their ac- 
 tions ; a stupid, staring, and lifeless eye ; an ignorance of 
 every thing which should occujjy the earliest thoughts 
 of rational beings; an imbecility of mental energy, and 
 an incapacity for bodily exertion; these, and other cir- 
 cumstances equally degrading, struck the Europeans 
 when they first visited America, as descriptive of the 
 Indian race ; and made such an impression upon their 
 minds, that they were unwilling to rank them with hu- 
 man creatures. This opinion, which the interest and 
 avarice ol the settlers contributed to establish, was the 
 cause of much of the cruelty which was exercised 
 against those unhappy people ; and it required a bull 
 from the pope to shew that it was false. Nor have the 
 rude inhabitants of America improved in any remarkable 
 degree since the discovcry'of the western hemisphere. 
 They still remain in all their native ignorance and bar- 
 barity ; and, as is usually the case with the uninstructed, 
 they regard themselves as supremely endowed with 
 every qualification which can elevate and dignify the 
 himian species; a circumstance which renders their 
 condition only the more truly wretched and deplorable. 
 " Since the time of Columbus and those who followed 
 him," says the elegant Robertson, " persons more en- 
 lightened and impartial than the discoverers or conque- 
 rors of America, have hdd an opportunity of contempla- 
 ting the most savage of its inhabitants; and they have 
 been astonished and humbled with observing how nearly 
 man, in this condition, approaches to the level of the 
 brutes." Sec The Hist, of .■hiicricci, vol. i. book iv. p. 
 344. 12mo. 
 
 Another circumstance, which proves the degraded 
 condition of tlie American Indians, is their ignorance of 
 arithmetic, or the art of computation ; an art which must 
 be regarded as indispensably necessary, wherever pro- 
 perty is known and distribution is frequent, and which 
 in the eastern hemisphere has been practised from a 
 time so remote that the name of its inventor has been 
 lost. But savages, who are in a great measure strangers 
 to property; who have no possessions to contend for, or 
 wealth to distribute; and whose ideas are few and little 
 diversified, have hardly any occasion for this useful art. 
 Even if they were instructed in it, it would be ratlier an 
 incumbrance to them than an advantage. It is enough 
 for an Indian that he goes to war with his tribe ; he can 
 distinguish all its members by their look and external 
 appearance, and considers it as both unnecessary and 
 troublesome, that they should be divided into companies 
 of hundreds or fifties. In some parts of America, arith- 
 metic appears to be altogether unknown. We have the 
 authority of Condamine, of Stadius, of Lery, and others, 
 for asserting, that the numeration of many tribes goes 
 no farther than three. Several can reckon as far as ten, 
 and some can proceed to twenty. When they talk of 
 any number higher than these, they point to the leaves 
 of the forest, or to tlie hairs of their head, intimating 
 that it is so great as not to be counted. Of any arith- 
 4 E
 
 S8G 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 metical process, sucl» as that ol" addition or subtraction, 
 Ihey are >vi-.olly ignorant. What we have now stated, 
 liowever, docs not obtain universally throughout the 
 American continent. The Iroquois, or Indians of the 
 Six Nations, in Canada, the Algonquins, the Chippe- 
 wuys, and oilier tribes, in the \icinily of the river St 
 Lawrence and the Lakes, have made very considerable 
 progress in the art of calculation, when compared with 
 the more southern inhabitants of the New World. This 
 has arisen both from their greater advancement in civili- 
 zation, introducing a greater variety of objects and ideas, 
 and from their intercourse with the Europeans, with 
 whom they carry on a regular trade in furs. But not- 
 withstanding these advantages, even their arithmetic 
 does not reach above a thousand ; in some instances, as 
 among the Cherokees, not above a tenth part of that 
 number. And the smaller tribes, in the neighbourhood 
 of the Cherokees, having less immediate connection 
 with Europeans, and retaining more of their indigenous 
 barbarity, have no words by which they can reckon 
 higher than twenty. 
 
 A savage is wholly occupied with what he sees, and 
 hears, and feels. His present wants alone rouse him 
 from indolence, and prompt him to exertion. He seldom 
 thinks of the future ; he has, of course, no anxiety to 
 provide against evils at a distance, and lays down no 
 extensive plans for the continuation of his enjoyments. 
 Many examples of this thoughtless inattention to futu- 
 rity have been recorded by those who have visited and 
 examined the American tribes. Borde relates in his 
 '' Description des Caraibes," that when an individual of 
 that nation has been tired with the labour of the day, 
 and is anxious to go to rest, nothing will induce him to 
 part with his hammock ; but in the morning, when he 
 is refreshed with sleep, and invited by his companions 
 to business or amusement, he will sell it for a trifle. 
 Mr Ellis observes of the North Americans, that though 
 the greatest part of their lives is spent in making pro- 
 vision for themselves and their families, they are total 
 strangers to frugality; and devour, with inconsiderate 
 greediness, in one day, the food which, with proper ma- 
 nagement, might support them for a week. (^Voyage to 
 .V. Jiner. p. 194.) The consequence of this is, that they 
 are often distressed with the severest famine. And in- 
 stances are not unfrequent of such an extraordinary 
 scarcity among them, that they are obliged to remove 
 the hair from the skins which they have collected in 
 order to sell them to the Europeans, and feed upon the 
 leather. Even when painful experience has taught 
 them to look forward to consequences, their skill in 
 providing against them appears to be very limited and 
 defective. The same calairrities oppress them year af- 
 ter year, and year after year they are distinguished by 
 the same thoughtlessness, and the same inability to 
 guard against the evils to which tliey are exposed. 
 When the winter is over, they will begin with much ea- 
 gerness and activity to construct their huts as a shelter 
 against the inclemency of the succeeding season; but no 
 sooner does the fine weather approach, than they relin- 
 quish the undertaking, and think of it no more, till they 
 are forced by the cold to resume their diligence, when 
 diligence can be of little avail. 
 
 In the savage state every man acts for himself. He 
 revenges his injuries with his own hand; and cannot sec 
 why the community should take cognizance of an action 
 which has been performed by an individual ; or why the 
 
 punishment should not be inflicted by him who has suf- 
 fered the wrong. In conformity with this observation, 
 a North American will undertake a journey of several 
 months, through rivers and bogs, unmindful of difficulty, 
 and regardless of danger, in order to satiate his revenge 
 upon some person of another tribe, from whom he has 
 received, or fancies that he has received, an injury..— 
 " In these journies," says Adair, " they disregard eve- 
 ry obstacle which nature opposes to them, if they are so 
 happy as to get the scalp of the murderer or enemy, to 
 satisfy the craving ghosts of their relations." Hist, of 
 (h» Amtr. Indiana, p. 150. 
 
 I. The Political State of the Ainerican Indians. 
 
 The origin of government has been traced by political 
 writers, either to the natural authority of a father and 
 master of a family over his children and dependents; or 
 to that of a leader in war, or in hunting, the most adven- 
 turous and hardy of his tribe : or it has been traced to 
 both of these united. In America, the power of the 
 ruler may be supposed to have originated from the 
 union of the two principles which have just been men- 
 tioned, but especially from the last; because in the New 
 World, the authority of a father over his children is very 
 limited ; as we shall have occasion to observe when we 
 treat of the domestic condition of its inhabitants. Among 
 the greater part of the tribes which are scattered over 
 the central regions of America, the bonds of political 
 association ai-e extremely slight. The individuals inha- 
 biting a certain district, appear to combine, not from a 
 perception of the advantages which would result from 
 order and subordination among themselves, but rather 
 with a view to watch the motions of their enemies, and 
 to act against them with united vigour. When the at- 
 tack is finished, or the invasion repelled, the authority 
 of the leader is disregarded ; every man recovers his in- 
 dependence ; and thinks of being directed and governed 
 only when a new attack is meditated, or a new invasion 
 must be repelled by the combined force of his tribe. 
 Laws and the regular administration of justice are un- 
 known. Their rulers are their military commanders, 
 rather than their political chiefs. No established and 
 acknowledged power enforces obedience. And even 
 when an excursion is proposed, and a warrior of tried 
 bravery off'ers to conduct it, the rest may either follow 
 him or not according to their own inclination. In this 
 respect the natives of America appear to resemble the 
 ancient inhabitants of Germany, who exercised a cor- 
 responding freedom of choice in things relating to their 
 military service. " Atque ubi qids ex priyicifiibua," says 
 Caesar, '■'■in concilia se dixit ducem fore,uf gui scgui ve- 
 lint jirojiteantur ; consurgunt ii gui et causam et hominem 
 probmiti suumgue auxilium pollicentur." De Bell. Gal- 
 lic, lib. vi. c. 22. Among the Indians, the chief men 
 are denominated caciques or ulmeris. Their authority Is 
 often temporary ; existing only while the community is 
 engaged in war, and never extending to matters of life 
 and death ; in other instances it is hereditary, though 
 even in these instances, which are rare, the line of suc- 
 cession is frequently broken ; and he who can win the 
 first place is entitled to hold it. In hardly any instance 
 does the power of the ruler trench in any degree upon 
 the liberty of the subject. The members of a tribe are 
 fathers, brothers, and friends ; their huts, their arms, 
 and their dress, are the same; one sentiment of equality 
 animates them all; every individual feels the importance
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 587 
 
 of his own exertions, and values himself in relation lo 
 that importance. 
 
 Amidst all the evils of an uncivilized state, ignorance, 
 famine, and the want of security, it has, in America at 
 least, one blessing which is unknown to many polished 
 nations of the ancient world. This blessing is that of 
 independence. While myriads of human beings follow 
 in the train of an Asiatic prince, the slaves ol his will, 
 and the sport of his caprice ; while they tremble before 
 him, or fail down at his presence, knowing that he can 
 dispose of their lives with a nod ; the rude inhabitant of 
 America wanders where his choice directs liim, and 
 breathes the air of his native plains, unrestrained by the 
 voice or the look of a superior. What avails it the 
 wretch whom the eastern despot has consigned to des- 
 truction, that the man who wills him to perish lives in 
 all the splendour of royal magnificence ; drinks the 
 most costly wines, and is attended by millions of slaves, 
 watchful of his desires, and prompt to execute his com- 
 mands ? The death of the sufferer may be more pomp- 
 ously cruel ; but his life is a period of unconditional 
 servitude ; and deprived of freedom, he is a stranger to 
 many of the highest enjoyments of which our nature is 
 capable. 
 
 It may be agreeable, as well as useful, to trace tlie 
 origin of that spirit of independence which prevails 
 among the rude inhabitants of America whom we are 
 now considering. It will be found to take its rise from 
 the circumstances in which they are placed, and parti- 
 cularly from the state of society among the uncivilized 
 natives of that extensive continent. 
 
 The savages of the New World are, 1 . Those who 
 depend for subsistence on the bounty of unsolicited 
 nature. 2. Those who live chiefly by fishing. 3. 
 Those who support themselves principally by killing 
 the wild animals ; and, 4. Those who supply the de- 
 ficiency of hunting or fishing by a partial agriculture. 
 To the individuals belonging to all these classes, just 
 ideas of property, either in the fruits of the earth, or 
 in the soil itself, are in a great measure unknown. 
 They have no fixed and continued residence, but wan- 
 der from place to place in quest of their food. They 
 are, of consequence, divided into a number of small 
 communities or tribes. In small communities the 
 exertions of every individual are requisite, in order that 
 any enterprize may succeed, or that any operation may 
 be effectual. Hence every indi^dual considers him- 
 self and his exertions, as necessary lo the welfare of 
 the community ; and knowing this, he maintains his in- 
 dependence, and spurns at the thouglit of obeying the 
 commands of another. 
 
 In some parts of the western continent, the human 
 species appears in the most degraded condition, which 
 it ever has presented to the eye of a philosopher. Not 
 a few of the tribes which inhabit the more fertile re- 
 gions of South America, are wholly unacquainted with 
 any artificial means of procuring subsistence. They are 
 strangers to foresight and to ingenuity, and trust to the 
 spontaneous productions of the earth for the support of 
 their lives. According to Nieuhoff, the Tapoyers of 
 Brazil neither sow nor plant. They do not even cul- 
 tivate the manioc, from the root of which the Cassada 
 bread is made, but eat it, like the inferior animals, with- 
 out preparation or care. A similar account is given by 
 Teco and Simon, of the Guaxerons, the Moxes, the 
 Caiguas, and other nations of Terra Fii-ma and Paraguay. 
 
 They live on fruits, berries, and leguminous vegeta- 
 bles, with which the soil, imsually productive, supplies 
 them in extraordinary abundance ; or on lizards and 
 reptiles of various kinds, which are at once sufficiently 
 numerous, and easily lakcn. No effort of industry is 
 requisite, and no exertion is made. Other tribes sup- 
 port themselves chiefly by fishhig. In Soutii Anicfica, 
 lakes and marshes are annually formed by the inundation 
 of the rivers, and in these the fish is left for the use of 
 the inhabitants. They swarm in prodigious numbers, 
 and are caught without art or skill. In the larger rivers, 
 as the Maragnon and Oroonoco, they arc yet more 
 abundant. P. Aquina asserts, that the former of these 
 may be taken with the hand ; and Gumilla, an author 
 of the highest respectability, declares, when speaking 
 of the latter, that they equal the sands upon its shore 
 for multitude. In consequence of this liberal supply, 
 many nations resort, at certain seasons of tiic year, to 
 the banks of tlie rivers, and depend entirely for sub- 
 sistence on what the waters can afford them. The in- 
 habitants, of some provinces have discovered a method 
 of intoxicating the fish, by means of vegetable juices ; 
 so that they float motionless upon the surface, and re- 
 quire only to be lifted from the clement to which they 
 belong. Other tribes have found out a way of preserv- 
 ing them without salt, by drying them in the sun, or 
 smoking them upon hurdles. In this part of the world, 
 fishing seems to have been the earliest employment 
 of our species ; and as it requires less exertion and less 
 dexterity than hunting or agriculture, the Americans 
 who live in the neighbourhood of the Maragnon and 
 Oroonoco, are perhaps the most inactive and the least 
 improved of the Indian race. 
 
 But man, however rude and ignorant he may be in 
 the western hemisphere, maintains his superiority over 
 the lower animals, and supports the dignity to which 
 his nature entitles him. It he cannot reduce them to 
 complete subjection, he destroys them by various arts 
 and contrivances, and depends on their destruction for 
 his subsistence. It is obvious, that those only who 
 reside in the vicinity of lakes and rivers can live by 
 fishing. Hence the tribes which are remote from any 
 great collections of water, support themselves chiefly 
 by killing the land animals, with which their forests 
 abound. From tliis source, by far the greater part of 
 the American Indians derive their subsistence. The 
 chace is with them a necessary and constant pursuit. 
 They follow their prey through the woods with aston- 
 ishing perseverance ; and laying aside the indolence 
 and stupidity of their nature, become active, skilful, and 
 acute. They mark the footsteps of a wild animal where 
 no other eye can distinguish them ; and if, at any time, 
 they pursue it into regions which they have not visi- 
 ted before, they cut down the branches of the trees 
 at regular distances, in order to facilitate their return. 
 Their arrow, pointed with bone or flint, seldom devi- 
 ates from the object at which they aim. No beast can 
 avoid their snares. Among some tribes, the youth are 
 not allowed to marry, till they have proved, by their 
 skill and address in hunting, that they are able to support 
 a family. And as the use of the bow in the chace is often 
 connected with its use as a pastime, they acquire such a 
 dexterity in the management of it, that in their hands, it is 
 a weapon equally destructive with the musket in tttose of 
 European nations. 
 
 Nor is the dexterity here alluded to, the only advan- 
 4 E 2
 
 .Sb8 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 lage which tlicy possess ■when eiiiijagccl in hunting. 
 They dip their arrows in a poison,* which renders tlic 
 slightest wound inflicted by means of them instantly 
 fatal ; the animal, wliose skin is pierced, falls at once 
 to the ground ; its blood congeals, and its wiiole body 
 becomes stiff and cold. Yet however violent this ex- 
 traordinary poison may be, and however ciuick in its 
 operation, such is its peculiar character, that it never 
 taints the flesh, or unfits it for the purposes of nutrition. 
 Many instances of these effects are recorded by the 
 missionaries and travellers who have visited the western 
 continent, and directed their attention to its central 
 regions ; all the nations of which are ac(iuainted with 
 this destructive composition. Gumilla, in particular, 
 relates, that he examined the carcass of an ape which 
 had been killed by a poisoned arrow ; and that after 
 having opened it as quickly as possible, he found the 
 blood thick and clotted, and its temperature surprisingly 
 diminished, even in the neighbourhood of the heart. 
 The life of the animal was completely extinguished ; 
 and its members ceased to vibrate when sharp instru- 
 ments were applied to them. But notwithstanding, all 
 these circumstances, the Indians of the party boiled it 
 without delay, and Gumilla himself partook of the re- 
 past. "I asked them," says he, "many questions about 
 it, and was so satisfied with their answers, that I ven- 
 tured to cat one of the limbs of the ape, which appeared 
 to me as savoury as the most delicate pig ; and af- 
 terwards, they never killed any thing which I did not 
 taste." — {^Hisioire de I'Orenocjue Trad, de I'lis/iagnol, 
 torn. iii. p. 3. et seg.) The chief ingredient in this 
 poison of such deleterious energy, is the juice of the root 
 curare, a species of willow ; and the manc/icnille, used in 
 other parts of America with a similar intention, produces 
 likewise the same effects. 
 
 But whatever may be the dexterity of the hunter, or 
 the efficacy of his weapons, the chace cannot afford a 
 regular subsistence. At certain seasons of the year, the 
 pursuit of the wild animals must be entirely suspended. 
 Hence those nations of the American continent, who are 
 strangers to agriculture, often experience the most 
 severe and desolating famine ; the unhappy individuals 
 being forced to eat lizards and toads, and unctuous 
 earth ; and to subsist on the bones of fish and serpents, 
 which they grind into powder, and form into bread. 
 According to Alvar Nugnez Cabeca de Vaca, one of 
 the most brave and virtuous of the Spanish adventurers, 
 this was frequently the case with the savages of Florida, 
 among whom he resided for a period of nine years. 
 (JVaiifrai^ias., chap, xviii. p. 20. et set/, and c. xxiv. p. 27.) 
 It is by agriculture alone that a regular supply of food 
 can be procured. There are very few nations of 
 America who live by hunting, that do not at the same 
 time cultivate the ground ; and derive a part at least of 
 their subsistence, from the productions which their in- 
 dustry has raised. But the agriculture of the Indians 
 is neither systematic nor laborious. They live chiefly 
 upon game and fish ; and their only object in cultivating 
 the earth, is to supply the accidental deficiency of these, 
 
 * It is not considered that this is a practice of the red 
 people of North America. Tench Coxe 
 
 and to guard against the evils of famine. Both the 
 plough and the irarrow are iniknown among thcni ; and 
 tlie instruments which they use, are exceedingly awk- 
 ward and rude. Their exertions arc confined to the 
 rearing of a few plants, which, in a fertile soil, spring 
 up and ripen, with very little care. The chief of these 
 are nraize, or Indian wheat ; the manioc, Irom a species 
 of which ihe Cassada bread is made ; the plantain, which 
 grows to the height of a tree, but which, notwith- 
 standing, vegetates so rapidly, as in less than a year 
 to afl'ord its increase ; the potatoc, a root now common 
 in Europe, and a variety of pepper called pimento, the 
 fruit of which the Americans reckon one of the neces- 
 saries of life, and mingle with their food in such ^anti- 
 tics, that it excoriates the tongues of those who are unac- 
 customed to its use. These productions might yield a 
 full supply even to a numerous people ; but among the 
 American tribes, agriculture is only a collateral or auxili- 
 ary employment. Slothful by nature, and accustomed to 
 the irregular and wandering life of hunting, they cannot 
 submit to the labours of the field with any consecutive 
 application of industry to the subjects of cultivation. 
 Their provision from that source is limited and scanty ; 
 and upon a failure of their usual success in killing the 
 wild animals, they are reduced to such extremities, that 
 many of them perish. t 
 
 We have now given a general view of the mode in 
 which subsistence was procured by the natives of the 
 western continent, at the time when they were first visit- 
 ed by the Europeans : in the islands it was somewhat 
 different, though, for the most part, the same. On the 
 arrival of the Spaniards, no animal was to be found in 
 these islands whose carcass could recompence the 
 trouble of killing it ; a species of rabbit, and a little dog 
 tliat could not bark, being the only creatures of size 
 which were discovered upon them. The inhabitants lived 
 sometimes by killing birds, or by fishing ; at other times, 
 they fed upon lizards, and reptiles of unknown shapes, 
 anddisgustirg appearance. Agriculture was known in 
 some degree ; but the grain raised was exceedingly 
 small, and afforded a very limited maintenance ; so tliat, 
 if the Spaniards settled in any district for a short time, 
 the unusual consumption exhausted the scanty posses- 
 sions of the inhabitants, and famine, with all its train of 
 consequences, ensued. 
 
 If we compare the American Indians with the natives 
 of Europe, or of Asia* we shall find, that the superiority 
 displayed by the latter in conducting the operations of 
 agriculture, depends chiefly upon two circumstances — 
 the subjugation^nji use of the lower animals, and an 
 acquaintance wiUi the harder and more serviceable me- 
 tals. But the people of America had not reduced the 
 lower animals to subjection ; and of the harder and more 
 serviceaVjle metals they were completely ignorant. Hence 
 their agriculture was extremely imperfect, and their 
 power was limited in all its efforts and operations. 
 
 In every part of the Old World, man has subjected 
 the irrational creatures to his dominion, and taught them 
 to obey his commands. Not to speak of more civilized 
 nations, the Laplander moves along the ice in a car, 
 drawn by the rein-deer ; the Tartar pursues his enemies 
 on horseback, and clothes himself with the wool of his 
 flocks ; the Arab travels through the desart on the ca- 
 
 •j- Tlio fnllowing- address of a Cacique to Gumilla is so striking, th.it it deserves to be introduced here:— "iVre, si tu apportft 
 qnelque (.hose pour manger, nous en profitercns tous, car dans touts la peuplade il n'y apas un sent morceau pour mtttre a la boucbe, — Jlistaire 
 de I'Orenoque, ii. 229.
 
 AMEiUCA. 
 
 589 
 
 mel, and profits by its docility and strength ; and even 
 the Kaniscliatkadale, the rudest perhaps of all the Asi- 
 aties, has constrained the dog to labour in his service. 
 In the operations oi agriculture, the aid of the iiifcrior 
 animals is peculiarly re(|ui^itc. It is by means of their 
 assisiance, that the European or Asiatic subdues the 
 hardened soil, and renders it fit to receive the seed 
 ■which he casts into it. Under his direction tlie ox ap- 
 plies his shoulder to the drauglit ; and the furrow is made 
 by the exertions of the horse. In the ancient continent, 
 man appears to be the lord of the creation ; he exacts 
 obedience from various tribes of animals, which submit 
 to his authority, and depend for subsistence and protec- 
 tion on his bounty or care. In the New World, how- 
 ever, reason is so partially improved, and the union of 
 its inhabitants is so incomplete, that the dominion of the 
 human kind has not been established over a single spe- 
 cies of the brute creation. All the animals retain their 
 liberty. The savage of America knows how to chase and 
 to kill them ; but not to subdue them to his purposes, 
 to improve their strength, or to multiply their numbers. 
 Nor does this arise altogether from the want of those 
 animals which have been tamed or domesticated in the 
 eastern hemisphere. The cow and the bison are of one 
 species ; (Buffon, Art. Bison.) and the rein-deer of Lap- 
 land is not different from that of America. The bear is 
 a native of the western continent, and might have easily 
 been broken and employed to facilitate the operations of 
 its inhabitants.* 
 
 The next circumstance which has retarded the im- 
 provement of the Americans, by limiting their power, 
 is their ignorance of the harder metals, and especially 
 of iron. Gold and silver may be found almost pure in 
 the beds of rivers, in the clefts of rocks, or on the sides 
 of mountains ; but iron, the most useful of the metals, 
 is never found in its perfect state ; it must be separated 
 from its impurities by artificial and laborious processes, 
 and it mu^st be united with a foreign substance (charcoal) 
 before it acquires tliat temper which renders it fit for 
 operations of much exertion. Wnen the New World 
 was discovered, its inhabitants were wholly unacquainted 
 with iron ; and indeed with all the metals excepting gold, 
 an inconsiderable quantity of which they picked up and 
 Used for the embellishment of their persons. The con- 
 sequence of this ignorance was, that the simplest opera- 
 tion was to them a business of much difficulty and extra- 
 ordinary labour. Not less than two months were neces- 
 sary in order to cut down a tree, when no other instru- 
 ments were used but hatchets of stone ; this, if we may 
 believe Gumilla, was their own computation, and a year 
 •was requisite to hollow a canoe, or to form it into shape. 
 In agricultuifc, their progress was equally slow. The 
 trees with which their forests are crowded are of the 
 hardest wood ; and the shrubs and herbs immediately 
 above the surface of the earth, are so numerous and 
 closely interwoven, that the efforts of a whole tribe are 
 scarcely sufficient to clear a small piece of ground, mark- 
 ed out for the purposes of cultivation The rest of the 
 labour is generally left to be performed by the women, 
 who, after stirring the field with poles burnt in the fire, 
 throw the grain into it ; and the fertility of the soil, ra- 
 
 * It is difficult to conceive to what use the clumsy and 
 untractable bear could be judiciously or safely trained. 
 Tl'ough often playful in his chain, he is never safe to 
 gport with. Tench Cose. 
 
 ther than the industry of the people, often secures to 
 them an increase equal to their wants. (Jumilta, iii. 166. 
 et secj. LctircH Kdijianttn rt Cia-'u-unfs., xii. 10.) Hence 
 it is that agriculture, which even in Europe is a work 
 of great lal)our, is exceedingly imperfect among the in- 
 habitants of America : And lience it is not surprising, 
 that the rude natives of the western continent, who liave 
 not broken the inferior animals to the yoke, and are un- 
 acquainted with instruments of iron, should depend for 
 their subsistence chielly on hunting and fishing. 
 
 From a similar account of the means by which sub- 
 sistence is procured hi the greater part of the New 
 World, Dr Robertson has, with his accustomed ability, 
 deduced the form and character of the political institu- 
 tions existing among the Indians of. America, and traced 
 the origin of that spirit ol independence, which distin- 
 guishes them from the numerous slaves of despotism in 
 Asia or Europe. 
 
 In the Jirst place, they were divided into small and 
 distinct communities. This was the natural and un- 
 avoidable result ot their mode oi life. Men who derive 
 their subsistence from the spontaneous productions of 
 the earth, or from the precarious resources of hunting 
 or fishing, are prevented from associating in any con- 
 siderable number. Among hunters especially, a large 
 extent of ground is necessary for the maintenance of a 
 very small tribe. The wild animals are by nature soli- 
 tary ; and even those of them which are gregarious, 
 withdraw to the recesses of the forests, when men begin 
 to increase, and to disturb them in the quiet possession 
 of the open country. If they are followed through the 
 woods and thickets, those who pursue them must neces- 
 sarily pursue them in small bodies ; and the domain 
 which every petty community regards as its own, must 
 be cleared of every rival that would encroach on the 
 territory appropriated to its use. The enemies of the 
 tribe must be driven to a distance. In exact conformity 
 with these statements, it has been observed, that in 
 America, the word nation has not the same meaning 
 which it has in other parts of the globe. That term has 
 been injudiciously applied to small companies of wan- 
 dering and disorderly savages, often not exceeding a 
 hundred persons, and sometimes not above fifty. The 
 central regions of the New World are remarkable for 
 these inconsiderable groups of individuals, separated 
 from one another, not only by implacable and everlast- 
 ing hatred, but even by their manners, habits, and lan- 
 guage. Towards the northern extremity of the con- 
 tinent, the tribes are somewhat larger. More resident 
 and more addicted to agriculture than the inhabitants of 
 the southern provinces, the Algonquins, or Chippcways, 
 might be reckoned a nmnerous people, when contrasted 
 with any of the inferior societies on the banks of the 
 Maragnon or Oroonoco. Uut though the larger com- 
 munities are distinguished by one appellation, they are 
 in reality divided into smaller parties, each of which acts, 
 in a great measure, independently of the rest. The 
 Iroquois, or Indians of the Six Nations in Canada, who 
 have long been associated for the purposes of mutual 
 defence, ought rather to be viewed as a combination of 
 republics, than as an individual people, subject to the 
 dominion of established rulers, and a fixed administra- 
 tion of justice. These nations, though combined, still 
 preserve their distinguishing characters ; and during 
 the contests of the French and English in North Ame- 
 rica, one part of them was considered as attached to the 
 interests of our countrymen, and the other to those of
 
 590 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 their antagouisis. But thougli the American tribes are 
 in general cxccedingiy small, yet it is not uncommon to 
 iind each of ihcni occupyint; an extent oi' terriloi y great- 
 er than some of the kingdoms in Europe. In the re- 
 gions which border on the Oroonoco, it is possible to 
 travel fur several months without discovering a single 
 hut, or the least trace of human society ; and where the 
 climate is more severe, the desolation is yet more joy- 
 less, and the honid silence is interrupted only by the 
 frightful cries of the wild animals hastening after their 
 prey. (Latitau, Mceurs den Hauv. ii. 179. het. EdiJ. ii. 
 360.) 
 
 Secondly., People who derive their subsistence chiefly 
 from liunting, must have very incorrect notions of pro- 
 perty ; and therefore must be strangers to those institu- 
 tions to which property gives rise. While the animals 
 roam at large in the woods, they cannot be said to belong 
 to any one. Whoever is able to kill them, thinks him- 
 self entitled to feed upon their carcasses. A piece of 
 ground is possessed, not by the individual, but by the 
 community ; all who choose are free to hunt within its 
 limits ; and, in many instances, the game is laid up, 
 during the excursion, in a common repository, to which 
 all have an equal right. When this piece of ground is 
 deserted by one tribe, it may instantly be occupied by 
 another. It is agriculture alone which gives rise to the 
 idea of property, either in the soil or in its fruits. He 
 who takes possession of a field and sows it, and reaps 
 the produce, naturally looks upon the field and the crop 
 as his own. But so loose and desultory is the life of the 
 Americans, and such is the form or character which it 
 has received from their employment as hunters, that 
 even agriculture has not introduced among them the 
 perfect notion of individual property. It is true this 
 notion is to be found in sufficient exactness among some 
 of the more stationary tribes; but among others, the 
 fields are cultivated by the women, while the men are 
 engaged in the chace, and the harvest is enjoyed indis- 
 criminately by all the members of the society. In cer- 
 tain districts, the produce of the land is kept in a public 
 granary, and distributed by the elders as the wants of 
 the community may require. Even where individuals, 
 more fortunate or more industrious than their neigh- 
 bours, collect or obtain possession of a store, they have 
 no such exclusive right to it, as enables them to riot in 
 abundance while their fellows are in want. The multi- 
 tude is not divided, as among civilized nations, into the 
 rich and the poor; these words form no part of the In- 
 dian languages; whoever is hungry, satisfies his appe- 
 tite in the readiest and most obvious way ; and if famine 
 assails the community, all its members are doomed to 
 suffer. 
 
 From these observations, the propriety of our general 
 inferences will be sufficiently evident. It will appear, 
 that the natives of the American continent will retain a 
 high sense of independence ; and that among them the 
 influence of political authority will be very inconsidera- 
 ble. 
 
 In small societies, where the exertion of every man 
 is wanted, and where that exertion bears directly and 
 powerfully on the effect which is produced, every man 
 will perceive his own importance. Where property is 
 little known, bodily strength and dexterity will be the 
 chief and most enviable distinctions, and the display of 
 these qualities the only road to eminence. Accordingly, 
 in war, when, more than at any other time, the Indians 
 discover a sense of political subordination, the most ad- 
 
 ventuious and experienced leader conducts them to the 
 villages of the hostile tribes ; but if another, bolder and 
 more skilful than he, shall appear, the latter is entitled 
 to occupy the place where the danger is greatest; and 
 to plan the stratagem in which most art is required. In 
 the cliace, the most daring and hardy of the community 
 is followed by the rest ; he guides them thi-ough the 
 thicket, and shews ihein where the game is most abun- 
 dant. If any badge of distinction is v.'orn, it is referable 
 to the personal qualifications of him who wears it; to his 
 prowess in attacking his enemies; his skill and perseve- 
 rance in torturing them ; or the number of their scalps 
 which he has brought oft' in triumph. In the council of 
 the nation, every one is entitled to speak. When the 
 old men arc listened to, it is because they have fought 
 in many battles, as well as seen many days; and unless 
 their advice corresponds with the present feelings of the 
 tribe, it is wholly disregarded. There is no law, no ma. 
 gistrate among these simple children of nature ; and no 
 punishment is inflicted, either by the society, or by any 
 officer whom that society might appoint. Every man 
 thinks and acts for himself; he feels his independence, 
 and rejoices in the possession of it. Hence, among the 
 natives of America, a sense of injuries is exceedingly 
 quick, and revenge is prompt and effectual; " to look at 
 them with a suspicious eye is to strike them, and to 
 strike them is to put them to death." Every member 
 of the community perceives that his own exertions are 
 equal to the supply of his wants ; and, a stranger to 
 submission, he will sooner die than part with his liberty, 
 or acknowledge himself to be in any way the servant of 
 another. Many of the Indians perished through grief, 
 when they discovered that the Spaniards treated them 
 as slaves; and many of them sunk under the pressure 
 of authority, and put an end to their own existence. See 
 Oviedo, lib. iii. ch. 6. p. 97; and Labat, ii. 138. 
 
 The description given above may be considered as 
 applicable, in general, to the rude inhabitants of the 
 western hemisphere ; and especially to those who oc- 
 cupy the more temperate latitudes. In some provinces, 
 however, even where the debilitating influence of the 
 climate is inconsiderable, we may perceive the begin- 
 nings of political associations ; as in these provinces, 
 several of the inferior tribes, whether from local cir- 
 cumstances or conveniency, are so far attached to one 
 another as to be comprehended under one general 
 name. But they are conjoined rather than imited. 
 They seldom or never act in concert ; and have no con- 
 ception of an enlarged or extensive plan of conspiring 
 operations. The Californians, several of the nations in 
 Paraguay, and some of the larger tribeson the banks of 
 the Oroonoco, and the Saint Magdalene in New Grana- 
 da, may be referred to tliis class. In other parts of 
 America, government seems to have advanced much 
 farther than we should expect to find it among people 
 in the infancy of civilization. The Iroquois might be 
 distributed with sufficient propriety into the chiefs, the 
 nobles, and the multitude. The natives of Florida had 
 long been accustomed to subordination, when they were 
 first known to Europeans ; their caciques were here- 
 ditary ; the warriors of the royal name were distin- 
 guished by a peculiar dress, and a variety of ornaments ; 
 and their privileges were numerous, and established. 
 The sceptre of power had been stretched over the peo- 
 ple ; the yoke of servitude was effectually and fatally 
 applied ; obedience was exacted, and obedience was paid. 
 But the Natchez, a tribe once occupying a province in
 
 AMEUICA. 
 
 591 
 
 i^ouisiana, but now extinct, and llie inliabitants of Bogota, 
 seem to ofler the most perfect examples of tyranny and 
 submission wliich the New World can present to the 
 eye of a philosopher. Among the Natchez, the people 
 were considered as vile, and formed to obey. Above the 
 people, were the families which were denominated rc- 
 sficctablr ; and these were in possession of high ho- 
 nours and dignities, which descended to their children. 
 At the head of all was the chief, the first minister of the 
 Sun, which they worshipped, and reputed the brother of 
 the god ; a company of chosen youths attended him 
 wherever he went, and devoted their lives to his ser- 
 vice : his will was the law, and disobedience to his au- 
 thority was the principal crime which was recognized 
 by the state. When he entered the temple, the people 
 offered to him the same homage which he was conceived 
 to pay to the divinity. And when he died, the youths 
 devoted to his person, together with his wives and fa- 
 vourites, were sacrificed at his tomb, that he might ap- 
 pear in the future world with an attendance suitable to 
 his rank. Thus the superstition of the Natchez had ri- 
 veted the chains of uncontrolled authority ; and though 
 not far advanced in civilization, they had, by a melancho- 
 ly fatality, experienced the worst of those evils which 
 polished and enfeebled nations are destined to suffer. 
 In the province of Bogota, and in some of the islands, a 
 similar system of tyranny, arrogance, cruelty, and super- 
 stition was to be foimd. The injunctions of the ruler 
 were identified with the mandates of heaven ; the peo- 
 ple had learned to submit ; the splendour of dominion, 
 long established and regularly supported, had dazzled 
 their eyes ; they grasped their fetters in barbarous 
 transports of joy, and looked upon themselves as the 
 noblest, as well as the happiest of mortals. 
 
 II. Of the mode of Warfare /ircvaleiit among the 
 Indians of America. 
 
 The first principle which is instilled into the breast 
 of an American savage is revenge. This principle ac- 
 quires additional strength as he advances in life ; the 
 few objects which his education presents to his eye have 
 all a tendency to cherish it ; both the counsels of the old 
 men, and the example of the warriors of his tribe, con- 
 spire in teaching him, that it is dishonourable to relent, 
 and infamous to forgive. To tear off the scalp of an 
 enemy, or to eat his flesh, is the highest gratification 
 which an Indian can receive. Even the women seem 
 lo be animated with this destructive and restless princi- 
 ple. The following narrative of an Algonquin woman 
 has been given as a proof of their thirst for blood. " The 
 Algonquins being at war with the Iroquois, she hap- 
 pened to be made prisoner, and was carried to one of 
 the villages belonging to that nation. Here she was 
 stripped naked ; and her hands and feet were bound 
 with ropes in one of their cabins. In this condition she 
 remained for ten days ; the savages sleeping around her 
 every night. On the eleventh night, when they were 
 asleep, she found means to disengage one of her hands, 
 and freeing herself from the ropes, she went immediate- 
 ly to the door of the hut where she was lodged. Though 
 she had now an opportunity of escaping unperceived, 
 her revengeful temper could not let slip so favourable 
 an opportunity of killing one of her enemies. The at- 
 tempt was manifestly at the hazard of her own life ; yet 
 seizing a hatchet, she plunged it into the head of a sa- 
 vage who l^y next her, and fled." The desire of ven- 
 
 geance is so prominent a feature in the character of the 
 American Indians, that it often shows itself in hidiscri- 
 minale fury against hianimate objects. If one of them 
 is struck accidentally by a stone, he seizes it in a pa- 
 roxysm of an[;er, and dashes it upon the ground : if he 
 is wounded by an arrow in battle, he will tear it from 
 his body, and break it in pieces with his teeth. The 
 same principle directs his public conduct. Against the 
 enemies of his tribe, his vengeance has no limits. Time 
 cannot efface the remembrance of an injury; it is cher- 
 ished and kept alive with the most studious care ; and 
 it even goes down from one generation to another with 
 all its associated feelings, and with these feelings in all 
 their exercise. The blood of the offender alone can 
 expiate the transgression. If the don;ain appropriated 
 to hunthig be invaded, or if an individual of a tribe be 
 cut off, the desire of vengeance swells in e\ery breast 
 with instinctive emotion, and instantly kindles into rage. 
 It sparkles in every eye, and gives activity to every 
 limb. The resentment of the nation becomes implaca- 
 ble ; they determine never to be reconciled, never to 
 make peace. (Golden. ///«/. of the Five JVations,i. 108, 
 and ii. 126. Lafitau, i. 416.) Months and years roll 
 away, and the purpose of vengeance continues deep in 
 the heart, and rankling in all its malignity ; and it shows 
 itself, in tremendous execution, when it is least expect- 
 ed or feared. The Indian fights not to conquer his 
 enemies, but to satiate his revenge ; and that destruc- 
 tive passion is not gratified till he has glutted himself 
 with the blood of the hostile tribe, and rejoiced in the 
 extinction of its name. 
 
 In a small community, the death of an individual is 
 felt as a loss by the whole ; and all the members of 
 which it is composed regard themselves as bound to 
 avenge it. As they have few objects to exercise their 
 thoughts, the diminution of their number, by the attack 
 or the treachery of an enemy, is continually before their 
 eyes ; and resentment is kept awake by reflecting on the 
 courage and the military virtues of him whom they have 
 lost. His faithful attachment to his tribe, his boldness 
 and address in himting, with many associated circum- 
 stances of endearment, rush into their minds ; their 
 grief is changed into hatred of those who have caused 
 their sorrow, and they rise, to go, " and eat the nation 
 which has injured them." It is to the principle of re- 
 venge that the leaders of a tribe apply themselves, 
 when they would rouse the young men to follow them 
 to the field. The speeches which are made on such oc- 
 casions are in a bold and figurative style, and delivered 
 with gestures equally violent and expressive. Some of 
 these specimens of savage eloquence, the most accom- 
 plished orators of a cultivated age and people might be 
 proud to own. " The bones of our countrymen," say 
 the chiefs, " lie uncovered ; their bloody bed has not 
 been washed clean ; their spirits cry against us ; they 
 must be appeased. Let us go and devour the people by 
 whom they have been slain. Sit no longer inactive 
 upon your mats ; lift the hatchet ; console the spirits of 
 the dead, and tell them that they shall be avenged." 
 See Charlevoix Hint, de la A'ouve/le France, iii. 216,217, 
 and Lery a/iudde Bry. iii. 204. 
 
 If the war is of a private and excursive nature, and 
 not undertaken by the whole tribe, a band of adventu- 
 rers attach themselves to the chief who is to lead them, 
 and they set out without delay. But when the whole 
 nation is concerned in the expedition, their proceedings 
 are regular and solemn. The elders of the tribe assem-
 
 592 
 
 AMETIICA, 
 
 ble ; and the affair is debated in council. They estimate 
 the advantages and disadvantages oi' the war, wiin a 
 calculation ol proDaljiiities, tar beyond what couid be 
 expected ol men, whose passions ni otlier nistances, lead 
 directly to their objccis, and hurry theni mto action 
 witU resistless precipitancy. The number ol their ene- 
 mies, their valour antl skill, the situation ol the coun- 
 try which they nihabit ; these, and many other circum- 
 stances, are examined and weighed. The priests, or 
 soothsayers, are consulted, and even the advice ol the 
 women is asked anu followed. 11" war is the result of 
 I heir deliberations, they prepare lor it with equal so- 
 lemnity, and with a ftxcd and awful resolution. Tlie 
 hatchet is publicly raised ; while means are taken to 
 conceal their design, and to lull their enemies in more 
 dangerous security. A leader offers to conduct the 
 expedition. All who choose may attach themselves 
 to his standard ; but no one is compelled to bear arms ; 
 the service is voluntary, in the fullest meaning of that 
 word. Each individual is master of his own con- 
 duct, notwithstanding the resolution of the community : 
 but if any one is incUncd to take part in the war, he 
 gives to the leader a piece of wood {Ja buc/ii-tte,) often 
 curiously wrought and adorned, as the mark of his de- 
 termination. The chief then fasts for several days and 
 nights ; during which he maintains a profound silence, 
 and is particularly attentive to the state ol his dreams. 
 These are generally explained so as to favour the expe- 
 dition. A solemn prayer is ofi'ered to the god of battles. 
 {Sec I^Jitciu, ii. 190.) The war-kettle is put on, indica- 
 tive of a resolution on the part of the tribe to eat the flesh 
 of their enemies ; and the shell is sent round, inviting 
 their allies to come and to drink their blood. To con- 
 stitute and support an alliante, the nations who agree 
 must have the same enmities and the same sentiments. 
 On the day which has been fixed for their departure, 
 the warriors assemble near the hut of their chief, all 
 completely armed, and adorned in their most elegant 
 manner. The women go before them, carrying their 
 provisions, and attend them till they reach the confines 
 of the province where the enemy is known to reside. 
 Here the Indians make a solemn pause ; and delivering 
 lo their wives, or their sisters, whatever is not absolutely 
 necessary for their journey, ihey advance into the hos- 
 tile country. The wars ot the American savages are 
 conducted on principles very different from those which 
 regulate the military operations of European kingdoms. 
 They never take the field in large parties ; and they 
 seldom or never risk the issue of a fair and open con- 
 test. Their principal objects are to surprise their ene- 
 mies, and to cut them off in the midst of the alarm, 
 which it is their study to excite ; and therefore, if they 
 fail in their first attempt, they do not, in general, return 
 to the charge, but take measures for a new stratagem, 
 on which tliey depend for better success. They pur- 
 sue their enemies through the forest with the same 
 caution and spirit which they exhibit in following the 
 beasts of prey. They mark their footsteps with the 
 same accuracy ; and such is the effect of habitual obser- 
 vation, that they can tell when they passed, of what 
 number the detachment consisted, and to what nation 
 it bilonged. While yet at a great distance, they ascer- 
 tain their approach by the smell of the fires which they 
 raise. T .ey know however, that their enemies are 
 equally skilful and vigil?nt with themselves, and make 
 us:: of all their art to deceive them. They paint their 
 bodies of the same colour with the leaves and brush- 
 
 wood ; lie close to the ground all day, and travel onljr 
 during the inght ; they relrain irom killing the wild 
 animals, and subsist on the provisions which they have 
 brought along with them; and marcliing in a line of 
 individual warriors, and with a dead silence, the last oi 
 the train covers the loolsteps of his companions with 
 grass and weeds, in order to prevent detection. But in 
 one matter ol the utmost importance, their caution fails. 
 They sleep without ceiilmels ; and trusting to the ob- 
 servations which they have made, or to tlie intelligence 
 which they have received, they are olten sluughtered by 
 their enemies, or carried oli as prisoners ol war. If, 
 however, they are so fortunate as to remam undisco- 
 vered, they enter the villages of the hostile tribe when 
 the young men are engaged in the chace, set fire to the 
 huts, and massacre the women and cliildren with indis- 
 criminate and remorseless lury, or compel ihcm to rush 
 into the flames. When they are perceived, they gene- 
 rally retire ; for with them it is a disgrace to fall in 
 battle, and a proof that they have been deficient either 
 in vigilance or skill. 
 
 In a small troop of warriors, the loss of a single man 
 is important and irreparable. The most complete suc- 
 cess IS dishonourable to a chief, if many of his country- 
 men have perished in the attack; and though vain of 
 their exploits in other circimistances, they rarely boast 
 of a victory in which the blood ot their friends has been 
 prolusely spilt. If they persevere in the combat at all, 
 they shelter themselves, each behind a tree, and throw- 
 ing themselves upon the ground as often as they dis- 
 charge their weapons, continue their fight. When no 
 opposition is made, they carry off the prisoners, whom 
 they reserve for a more dreadful treatment ; and whom 
 they guard with the utmost care, till they reach the 
 place of their abode. 
 
 Those nations who have been furnished with mus- 
 quets by the Europeans, still carry on their wars in the 
 same manner, though perhaps with more destructive 
 effect. If they fall in with their enemies, they allow a 
 part of them to march forward undisturbed ; when, ris- 
 ing all at once from the place which concealed them, 
 with a fearful cry, they pour in their bullets, and shelter 
 themselves as before. It is the practice, however, among 
 the North Americans especially, when the force on both 
 sides is nearly equal, to abandon their distant warfare, 
 and rush upon each other with their clubs and hatchets; 
 mingling with their blows the bitterest reproaches and 
 the keenest insults. They bite their enemies, and tear 
 off their scalps with a knife, which they carry for that 
 purpose ; they wallow iti their blood with savage frenzy 
 and delight, till at last, meeting with opposition no lon- 
 ger, their i-age abates, and they secure the prisoners. 
 These unhappy men are doomed to suffer all that cruelty 
 is able to inflict, and all that human fortitude is able to 
 endure. 
 
 If the conquerors hope to effect their escape without 
 difficulty, the prisoners are treated with some degree of 
 humanity, till the victors reach the frontiers of their 
 peculiar residence. But here they begin to feel the 
 misery of their situation. A messenger is despatched 
 to announce their arrival, and to inform the elders of 
 the tribe, that the expedition has been successful ; tlie 
 cry of death is raised ; and the women, and young men 
 who are incapable of bearing arms, come forth to meet 
 the captives, and bruise them, as they pass, with clubs 
 and stones in the most shocking manner. [1 ah-rru'i, ii. 
 18.) To this succeed lamentations on the part of the
 
 A31ER1CA, 
 
 593 
 
 conquerors for those who have fallen ; and these arc 
 changed by a rapid and unexpected transition into re- 
 joicings for the victory whitli tliey have gained. Both 
 their sorrow and their joy are accompanied with extra- 
 vagant looks and gestures, all barbarously expressive of 
 the feelings with which they are animated. The old 
 men then determine the fate of the prisoners. They 
 are either adopted into the community, or they arc tor- 
 tured to death, in order to appease the ghosts of those 
 who have been slain, or to satiate the revenge of the 
 conquerors, who eat their flesh with transports of avi- 
 dity and pleasure. 
 
 As it is a maxim of Indian warfare, seldoin to give 
 quarter or to take it; and as every warrior fights, not 
 to overcome his enemies, but to destroy them ; the race 
 of American savages would, in a few generations, have 
 been extinct, if some method of recruiting their num- 
 bers had not been devised. Honce, the resentment of 
 the tribe occasionally yields to tlie necessity of support- 
 ing the population, and the captives are admitted to all 
 the privileges and protection which the society can af- 
 ford. They are led to the huts of those who have been 
 killed: if the women receive them, their sufferings arc 
 at an end ; they become instantly a part of the community, 
 and they are allowed to sit on the mats of the deceased. 
 They hold the rank of those whose places they occupy ; 
 and, ever after, they are treated with the respect and 
 kindness which are due to a father or a brother, to a 
 husband or a friend. By their own tribe they are consi- 
 dered as degraded and lost. They never think of return- 
 ing to their former associates, and they would not be ad- 
 mitted into their number, if they should do so.* They 
 incorporate with those who have spared them, and adopt 
 their jealousies, thcii' hatreds, and their resentments, 
 with as much zeal as if they had originally belonged to 
 the community into which they have been received. But 
 if the women refuse to admit them, their doom is irre- 
 vocably fixed: nothing can save them from torture and 
 death. In the mean time, while their fate is undecided, 
 the prisoners do not testify the smallest concern : they 
 converse with those who are near them, by interpreters, 
 or otherwise, on matters of indifference ; and smoke 
 as quietly and freely as if they had no interest what- 
 ever in the proceedings of the victorious tribe. When 
 their destiny is announced to them, they still maintain 
 their inflexibility, and prepare to suffer with all their 
 fortitude. 
 
 It is seldom that the resentment of a savage yields to 
 considerations of policy : and nothing but the experience 
 that wars cannot be carried on, and that resentment 
 itself cannot be gratified without supporting their num- 
 bers, could induce the American Indians to spare the 
 lives of those who fall into their hands. Unaccustomed 
 to the institutions of happier countries, and a milder 
 religion, they have no conception of the soft and secret 
 pleasure which attends an act of compassion towards an 
 enemy; but to torture their prisoners, and to devour 
 them, are the sources of the highest and most exquisite 
 delight to their barbarous natures. 
 
 The captives are gathered into one place, and the 
 whole nation assembles as to a festival. A scaffold is 
 erected, and the prisoners arc tied to a stake, but so as 
 to have liberty to move around it ; here they raise their 
 
 death-song, and set the utmost cruelty of their enemies, 
 at defiance. The mind which is not altogether a stran- 
 ger to pity, revolts at the scene which follows. The 
 fortitude of the sufferers calls upon us for admiration; 
 but the ingenuity in giving pain, and the ceaseless per- 
 severance of their tormentors, excite our wonder and 
 our abhorrence. Men, women, and children, rush upon 
 the unhappy victims. They beat them with clubs, they 
 tear them with pincers, they burn their limbs with hot- 
 irons, they drag their nails from their fingers, one by 
 one, they wound them with knives, and cut circles and 
 gashes in various parts of their bodies ; and these they 
 instantly sear, in order to prevent an effusion of blood, 
 which would tcrnunate the agony of the sufferer. They 
 vie with each other in refinements of torture. One 
 takes a finger in his mouth, and gnaws it, and tears off 
 the flesh with his teeth; another thrusts the mangled 
 finger into the bowl of a pipe, made red-hot, and smokes 
 it like tobacco; a third pounds the toes of the wretch 
 between two stones; and a fourth, smearing his face 
 with the blood of the victim, dances round the stake in 
 a transport of fury and joy. Some twist the bare nerves 
 and tendons ; and others pull and stretch the limits in 
 every way that can increase the torment. Nothing sets 
 bounds to their rage, but the fear of killing the sufferer 
 at once ; and so cautiously do they refrain from hurting 
 the vital parts, that this scene of misery often continues 
 for several days. They sometimes unbnid the prisoner, 
 to give a breathing to their vengeance, and to think of 
 other tortures. They do it also in order to refresh the 
 sufferer, who has perhaps fallen into a profound sleep, 
 worn out with pain, and wearied with enduring. They 
 rouse him, however, by the application of fire, and tie 
 him again to the stake. Their cruelty, which seems to 
 have gathered strength in the interval, is renewed. 
 They pull out his teeth, and thrust out his eyes; they 
 stick him all over with matches, of a wood which burns 
 slowly, yet easily takes fire ; they run sharp reeds into 
 the fleshy parts of his body; they tear the skin from his 
 head, and pour boiling water on the naked skull; and 
 after having burnt and mangled him, so that he has al- 
 most lost the appearance of a human creature, they 
 once more release him from his bonds; when torn, 
 roasted, and blind, staggering through weakness from 
 side to side, and falling into their fires at every step, he 
 is despatched with a dagger or a club. This last opera- 
 tion is generally performed by one of the chiefs, who, 
 weary with cruelty, or hungry for the remaining flesh 
 of the victim, puts an end to his sufferings and his exis- 
 tence. In these transactions of blood and horror, the 
 women, strangers to every feeling of humanity and mo- 
 desty, even outdo the men : while the elders of the tribe 
 sit quietly round the stake, smoking and looking on with 
 an titter absence of emotion. — See Charlevoix, HUt. cle 
 la JVouxK France, iii. 243. Lafitau, Mteurs des Sauv. ii. 
 277, and particularly Memoires F/ii/o.io/i/i. S;c. /lar Don 
 Ulloa, ii. 406, note. 
 
 The conduct of the sufferer is no less extraordinary. 
 In the intervals of torture, he smokes too, and converses 
 with his tormentors; or he defies their cruelty, and 
 chaunts his death-song, scorning to complain. He en- 
 dures without a groan, or a look of impatience, what it 
 seems almost impossible for human nature to bear. He 
 
 • This idea is natural to all nule nations. Amoijg tlie Romans, in the early periods of the commonwealth, it was a maxim, that », 
 prisoner " turn itecessisse videlur, cum captus at." — Digest, lib. shs. tit. 15. c. 18. See Robertson's America, vol. ii. Xote Isxv. 
 Vol. I. P.vRT II. 4 F
 
 n94. 
 
 AiMEUlCA. 
 
 reproaches his enemies wiUi unskillulness in the art of 
 tormenting; recounts his own exploits, and threatens 
 with a signal revenge liom the tribe out ot which he has 
 been taken. He even points out to them more exquisite 
 modes of giving him pain. " I am brave and intrepid," 
 he exclaims, " I do not fear death, nor any kind of tor- 
 tures: those who fear them are cowards; they are less 
 than women. Life is nothing to those who are possessed 
 of coinage. May my enemies be confounded w ith de- 
 spair and rage. O that I could devour them ! I would 
 (h'ink their blood to the very last drop. Forbear," said 
 an aged chief of the Iroquois, " forliear these stabs of 
 your knife ; and rather let me die by fire, that those dogs, 
 your allies, from beyond the sea, may learn, by my ex- 
 ample, to suffer like men." 
 
 Those who have contemplated the rude inhabitants 
 of the American continent with a philosophic eye, have 
 been at a loss to account for the extraordinary fortitude 
 displayed by the sufferers amidst the tortures which we 
 have now described. The women possess this fortitude, 
 in some degree, as well as the men ; though their op- 
 portunities of shewing it are happily fewer. Some have 
 referred it to a peculiarity of constitution, and ascribed 
 it to a certain thickness of the skin, and rigidity of the 
 muscular fibres: and it has been thought that this is 
 proved by the numerous cases of insensibility to pain, 
 where the sufferer could have no such motives to dis- 
 play his fortitude, as he may be supposed to have when 
 he defies the rage of his enemies, and threatens them 
 with awful retaliation from the community to which he 
 belongs. An Indian was under the necessity of being 
 cut for the stone. This operation, which, in ordinary 
 cases, lasts but a few minutes, was, from particular cir- 
 cumstances, protracted for nearly half an hour. Yet, 
 during all this time, he exhibited no symptoms of the 
 acute pain which generally attends that hazardous ope- 
 ration. The Indians of North America can bear the se- 
 verities of their climate with scarcely any covering- ; and 
 follow the chace with undiminished activity amidst the 
 utmost rigour of winter. It is said also, that the thorns 
 and briars slide smoothly over their bodies as they pass 
 through the woods, and that they are seldom or never 
 lacerated as Europeans would be in similar circumstan- 
 ces. From all this it has been inferred, that the extra- 
 ordinary patience in suffering, which characterizes the 
 inhabitants of the New World, depends on the thick- 
 ness of their skins, and a comparative torpor of the ner- 
 vous svstcm. To this opinion, however, there are seve- 
 ral objections. That the skins of the Americans are 
 thicker and harder than those of Europeans, may be 
 allowed, because anatomists tell us that they have found 
 them so. {.Votirias Ainericanas, pp. 313, 314.) But the 
 facts which have been mentioned, are not sufficient to 
 warrant the conclusion which has been drawn from them, 
 respecting the insensibility of the Indians to pain. The 
 o])cration of lithotomy is often performed in Europe, 
 ■ivithout a groan on the part of the individual who is 
 obliged to submit to it. Besides, in the case of the 
 savage alluded to, a desire to maintain the reputation 
 for suflering manfully, on which all his countrymen are 
 known to pride themselves, may be conceived to have 
 had its influence in exciting his fortitude. The power 
 of habit, in enabling the human body to endure the se- 
 verities of winter, may be learned from the circum- 
 stance, that in Lapland, in Iceland, and in Greenland, 
 one part of the body, the face, is exposed, without any 
 Covering, to all tlie intenseness of the cold in the lati- 
 
 tudes of these countries. And as to the fact, of the In- 
 dians escaping with salcty from the thorns and briars, as 
 they pass through the woods, it may be explained ironi 
 their known practici; of smearing themselves witli un- 
 guents and gums, as well as from the thickneaB of their 
 skins. 
 
 Those who have had opportunities of examining the 
 American Indians, and of attending to them in different 
 combinations of circumstances, inform us, that their per- 
 ception of insults is unusually (juick; and that their 
 sensations of pleasure are more lively and acute than 
 those of the polished nations in the ancient world. 
 Their joy lives in their countenances and lightens fron> 
 their eyes. It displays itself in every part of their bo- 
 dies. They spring from their mats to engage in the 
 dance, and show the tumultuous rapture which fills 
 their breasts, by a thousand wild and irregular contor- 
 tions. Without going to America, we know that the 
 man who is most alive to sensations of pleasure, is 
 also most alive to sensations of pain. Joy is counter- 
 balanced by sorrow. He who in the morning is full of 
 life and activity, may in the evening be sunk in gloom 
 and silence, a stranger to comfort, and the prey of des- 
 pondency. It is so with the Indians of the western 
 hemisphere. Their fortitude and patience must there- 
 fore be derived from other sources than their insensi- 
 bility. We must deduce it from their education, which 
 is chiefly of a military nature ; and an essential part of 
 which consists in training the youth to suffer with mag- 
 nanimity. We must refer it ultimately to the power of 
 habit. 
 
 That the influence of habit is great, will appear when 
 we consider that our forefathers marched to the combat, 
 and fought, under a load of armour which an European 
 of our own times would not be able to support for half an 
 hour. The Hindoos subject themselves to the most ex- 
 cruciating varieties of penance, not only without mur- 
 muring, but even with satisfaction, though a native of 
 Great Britain would rather die than submit to what they 
 voluntarily endure. It is the first and the last study of 
 the American Indians, to acquire the faculty of suffer- 
 ing with an obstinate and heroic courage, when their 
 fortitude is put to the proof. They harden their fibres 
 by repeated trials, and accustom themselves to endure 
 the most tormenting pain without a groan or a tear. In 
 the northern division of the continent, a boy and a girl 
 will put a flaming coal between their naked arms, and 
 vie with one another in maintaining it in its place. 
 {^CIiarln'oix,\i\. 207 .) The probation of a w'arrior who 
 aspires to the rank of a leader, does not consist in feats 
 of courage and hardy adventure, but in displays of forti- 
 tude, and in trials of patience : he must prove that he is 
 able to suffer; and rigorous fasting and severe flagella- 
 tion are among the means by which his virtues are as- 
 certained. He is suspended in his hammock, and ants, 
 whose bite occasions the most exquisite pain, are thrown 
 upon him : a fire of sthiking herbs is kindled below, and 
 he is scorched with the heat, and almost suffocated witli 
 the smoke ; while the judges of his merit, standing at a 
 convenient distance, examine his looks and motions, any 
 one of which, indicative of impatience or sensibility, 
 would exclude him forever from the honour to which he 
 aspires. These trials are so severe, that many perish 
 while they submit to them: but those who pass them 
 with approbation or applause, are invested at once with 
 the ensigns of dignity, and are regarded as men of known 
 fortitude, and undoubted resolution. This dreadful pf(f»
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 595 
 
 bation is most common in Uie soulhcni regions of Ame- 
 rica; though in the more norlliern provinces likewise, 
 the constancy of the warrioi', ambitious ot distinction, 
 or of the youth desirous to march against the enemies 
 of his country, is proved by blows and by hrc ; or by in- 
 sults and taunts, often less easily borne than any corpo- 
 real inlliction. The point of honour loo, among the in- 
 habitants of the American continent, is placed in suffer- 
 ing with magnanimity. Of the few ideas which inlluence 
 their minds, this is the chief; and it operates with an 
 immediate and a decisive efiect. Unbroken and inllexi- 
 ble constancy is with them the noblest distinction, and 
 the highest glory of a wai-rior; and he who yields under 
 pain, or shrinks from the trial of his fortitude, is looked 
 upon as one who has fallen from the perfection of his na- 
 ture ; and is degraded to a level with Europeans, who 
 know not how to suffer. 
 
 But the mode of treating their prisoners is not the 
 same throughout the whole of the American tribes. 
 Among the Indians of South America, it differs consi- 
 derably from that which we have detailed above ; though 
 it is equally destructive, and almost as horrible. There 
 the prisoners, alter being received in as cruel a man- 
 ner as those of the Iroquois or Algonquins, are never- 
 theless exempted from suffering, and are treated for a 
 while with the utmost kindness and care. A hut is al- 
 lotted to them ; they are feasted and caressed ; they are 
 permitted to mingle in the dance with their captors ; 
 and some of the most beautiful women of the tribe are 
 ordered to attend them, and to minister to their com- 
 fort. But notwithstanding these endeavours to attach 
 them to life, their destiny is unalterably fixed. The 
 spirits of those who have fallen in battle cry for tiieir 
 Wood. On tile day which has been appointed the war- 
 riors assemble ; and the prisoner is brought forth with 
 mucli pomp, and with many observances of an extraordi- 
 nary nature. When he arrives at the place where the 
 V elders wait to receive him, the chief of the victorious 
 tribe addresses him in the following manner: "Arc you 
 of that hostile nation which has killed so many of ou'- fa- 
 thers, our brethern, our wives, our children, and our 
 allies?" To this inquiry the captive generally answers 
 in words like these: "Yes, I am of that hostile nation, 
 and I exult in calling it mine : I have done you every 
 injury in my power : I have killed your fathers, your 
 brethren, and your allies ; I have killed them with these 
 hands, and have assisted in eating their flesh. If you 
 put me to deatli, my friends, will avenge me, and my 
 life shall cost you dear." (Lafitau, Mmirs, ii. 302.) 
 No sooner is this declaration made, than the prisoner is 
 struck to the earth with a single blow of a club; and 
 the women, laying hold of the body, prepare it for the 
 barbarous feast which is to succeed. They tear it in 
 pieces ; giving to their children the brain and the 
 tongue, and smearing their faces with the blood ; in or- 
 der to kindle in their youthful minds that hatred of their 
 enemies, which Is, ever after, to be the ruling principle 
 of their natures. All then join in devouring the car- 
 cass. To eat up an enemy is considered as the most 
 exquisite gratification of revenge ; and wherever the 
 people are cannibals, it is seldom that a prisoner is 
 spared. Stadius, a German officer, in the service of 
 the Portuguese, was taken captive by the Toupinambos, 
 a nation of Brazil, and remained among them for a pe- 
 riod of nine years ; he often witnessed the feasts of hu- 
 man flesh, which he describes in his narrative, (Afiud 
 de Bry. iii. 34.) and was himself doomed to a similar 
 
 fate witli his companions in niisfortune ; but lie saved 
 himself by his courage and address. The Atacapas of 
 Louisiana ate up a I'lenchman named Charleville, in 
 the year 17ly; and the Caribs of the main land were 
 seen to eat the flesh of the Maroons, who in 1761 re- 
 volted against the Dutch in their settlements on the 
 Berbiee. [.Vatur ffesc/iie/ife vori Guinea, § 161.) Some 
 of the inferior nations likewise roast 'their prisoners. 
 The same barbarous practice, of eat'uig those who arc 
 taken in war, subsisted in Mexico, and traces of it may 
 be found among the gentler inhabitants of Peru. 
 
 But though the greater part of the American savages 
 agree in eating the flesh of their prisoners, or did so 
 when they were first visited by the Kuropeans, yet the 
 fiercest tribes devour none but their enemies, and those 
 who appear in arms against them. The women and 
 children, who are so fortunate as to escape the fury of 
 their inroads and attacks, more rarely suffer from the 
 deliberate expression of their vengeance. This state- 
 ment is confirmed by the testimonies of those who have 
 had frequent opportunities of examining the manners 
 of these savage nations. In the expedition of Narvaez 
 into Florida, A. D. 1528, the Spaniards were compel- 
 led, by the severity of famine, to eat up those of their 
 countrymen who happened to die. This appeared so 
 dreadful to the natives, whose manners permitted them 
 to devour their captives only, that they regarded the 
 Europeans with horror ; and looked upon them as men 
 destitute of affection towards one another. It may be 
 safely affirmed, that human flesh was never used by any 
 people as their ordinary food. It was the bitterness of 
 unrelenting vengeance that first led to the horrid festivals, 
 of which we cannot read without shuddering; and the 
 enemies of the tribe were the only victims which were 
 sacrificed to this malignant passion. Among several 
 of the American nations, however, the practice of de- 
 vouring those who fall into their hands, does not exist 
 at present; though we are yet unacquainted with all 
 the circumstances which have effected its abolition. 
 We cannot ascribe the change wholly to the custom of 
 adopting the prisoners, for in many tribes that custom 
 is unknown. Yet among these tribes, the practice al- 
 luded to must at one time have been general ; as all 
 travellers agi'ee, that it has entered into their language, 
 and that many expretBions, to which it must have given 
 birth, are still in use. The Iroquois signify their reso- 
 lution of making war against an enemy, by calling upon 
 one another "to rise and eat" the people with whom 
 they are at variance ; and when they solicit their allies 
 to join them, they invite them to "come and cat broth 
 made of the flesh of their enemies." (Charlevoix, Hisr. 
 jV. F. pp. 208, 209. Let. xxiii. Edlf. et Cur. 241.) From 
 this horrid practice, too, the war-song seems to have 
 derived its peculiar character. "I go to war," exclaims 
 a savage, animated with all the fury of his barbarous 
 nature, " I go to war, to revenge the death of my bro- 
 thers: I will kill; I will exterminate ; 1 will burn my 
 enemies; I will bring away prisoners; I will devour 
 their hearts, dry their flesh, and drink their blood. 
 I will tear off tlieir scalps, and make cups of their 
 skulls." See Bossu's Trav. through Louisiana, vol. i. 
 p. 102. 
 
 III. Of the Religion of the .imerican Tribes. 
 
 Nothing has, in a greater degree, attracted the at- 
 tention of those who have visited the New World, than 
 
 4 F 2
 
 S96 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 the religion of its inliabitaiUb. Unfortunately, however, 
 the accounts of it, in as far at least as they respect the 
 less cultivated tribes, are neither very distinct, nor 
 founded on very accurate observation. Priests and mis- 
 Bionarics, often ignorant, and always more desirous to 
 propagate their own doctrines, and introduce the cere- 
 monies of their own religion, than to observe that of the 
 people to whom tluy are sent, have fancied that they 
 have discovered traces of Christianity among several of 
 the American tribes. By pursuing analogies to an un- 
 warrantable length, and interpreting some pnrases with 
 a blamable precipitancy, and hardly any acquaintance 
 with the language of the natives, they have imagined 
 tliat the doctrine of tlic Trinity, the mystery of Clirist's 
 incarnation, and the virtue of his propitiatory sacrifice, 
 were not unknown to these people. Tiiey have even 
 gone so far as to assert, that purgatory is received 
 among them, and that prayers for the dead are in use. 
 If these statements were correct, it would surely be no dif- 
 ficult matter to convert the American tribes to the belief 
 of our religion ; but as this has not been done with any 
 good measure of success, we have little reason to admit, 
 that the truths of Christianity are at all known to the sa- 
 vages of the western continent. In the uninformed and 
 credulous guides above alluded to, we can have no confi- 
 dence ; and the observation of Robertson is just, that even 
 when we make our choice of conductors with the great- 
 est care, we ought not to follow them with implicit faith. 
 
 The religious notions of any people may be consider- 
 ed in reference to the being of a God; the means of 
 averting his displeasure, or of procuring his favour; 
 and the doctrine of a future state. 
 
 An inhabitant of Europe, accustomed to think of a 
 Deity, to reflect on his works of creation, and to rejoice 
 in the bounties of his providence, is apt to imagine, that 
 the ideas which are familiar to him must be coeval w ith 
 the first efibrts of thought, and must be possessed, in 
 some degree, by every human creature. But if we en- 
 quire into the religious opinions of those in the inferior 
 I'anks of life among ourselves, it will appear, that their 
 system of belief is derived, not from examination, but 
 from instruction. Even in enlightened and civilized 
 countries, the ideas of such as have not been trained to 
 the exercise of abstraction, are gross and corporeal. 
 But among a people, where the fi*t notices of the di- 
 vine will, which were received by man from his Crea- 
 tor, are lost ; the mind, destitute of instruction, and a 
 stranger as yet to inquiry, is long unable to infer the 
 existence of a Divinity from the contemplation of his 
 ■works. Those visionary fears, which torment our spe- 
 cies in the darker periods of society, proceed invariably 
 from the misconception of the phenomena of nature. 
 As if the real evils incident to life were not enough, 
 the mind is ever at work in creating factitious distress. 
 Insensible to the beauty and order which pervade the 
 universe, the distempered imagination, harbouring ter- 
 ror and dismal forebodings, is only struck with the ap- 
 parent derangement of the system, and the convulsion 
 of the elements : it every where sees the operations of 
 a malignant genius, actuated by the dark passions of 
 envy, cruelty, and revenge. 
 
 Among the various definitions which logicians have 
 given of man, one is, that he is the animal that prays. 
 This definition, intended to convey to us that man is the 
 only one of the creatures of God, which acknowledges 
 his superintendence, will not, however, apply universal- 
 ly : for some tribes have been discovered on the Ameri- 
 
 can continent that have no idea of a Supreme Being, 
 and no observances of religious institution. They have 
 not been able to trace the attributes of power and wis- 
 dom in the appearances of nature ; but live, inattentive 
 to the glorious spectacle around them, occupied with 
 eating and drinlting ; or sunk in the gratification of their 
 indolence. " Our ancestors and we," said a cacique of 
 the Abiponians, " have been so solicitous to find food 
 upon the earth, that we never dreamt of the stars or 
 their arcliitect." Strangers to science, to inquiry, and 
 almost to thought, even the terrible revolutions in the 
 heavens and the earth, the eclipse and the comet, the 
 pestilence and the storm, have no other effect on their 
 untuiored minds, than that of awakening them fror.i 
 their inactivity, to stare for a moment in wild and me- 
 lancholy ignorance, and instantly to relapse into stupid- 
 ity and sloth. They have not in their language a name 
 for a deity. In this unhappy state, man seems to have 
 parted with the distinctive qualities of his nature, and 
 to be separated by a small interval from the brutes. 
 The authors who have described the niost uncivilized 
 nations of America, are uniform in their testimony, that 
 there arc no appearances of religion among them. The 
 following is the declaration of P. Ribas, concerning the 
 inhal)itants of Cinaloa; and it agrees in every thing with 
 that of Lery, i^yl/nid de Bry. iii. 221,) of Nieuhofl', 
 (Churchill's Voyages, ii. 132,) of Gumilla, {Hist, de 
 I'Orcnotjue, ii. 157,) of UUoa, [A'olicias jimcrican. 335, 
 et set/.) and of many others who have visited and de- 
 scribed difl'erent parts of the western hemisphere. " I 
 was extremely attentive," says Ribas, " during my stay 
 among the Cinaloans, to ascertain whether they were to 
 be considered as idolaters; and it may be affirmed with 
 the most perfect exactness, that though among some of 
 them there may be traces of idolatry, yet others have 
 not the least knowledge of God, or even of any false 
 deity : nor pay any formal adoration to the Supreme 
 Being, who exercises doniinion over the world ; nor 
 have they any conception of the providence of a Creator 
 or Governor, from whom they expect, in the next life, 
 the reward of their good, or the punishment of their 
 evil deeds." See Hist, dc tos TrUimfih. dc J^'uestra Santa 
 Ft-., Sec. par P. And. Perez de Ribas, p. 16, el seq. 
 
 But religion is congenial to the mind of man. The 
 extraordinary appearances of nature attract his notice, 
 and at last fix his attention; and he is led, though per- 
 haps slowly, to the apprehension of an invisible and 
 powerful cause. He dreads the repetition of the evils 
 which he has formerly experienced, and which depend 
 on circumstances beyond tlic operation of his strength 
 or dexterity; and is eager to propitiate a Being, whose 
 influence over human concerns so materially affects his 
 happiness. The Deity is represented as the avenger 
 of transgression ; and the unlocked for motions and con- 
 cussions of the elements are regarded as the tokens of 
 his displeasure. His anger is shewn in the tempest 
 and the inundation ; when he descends at midnight to 
 punish the guilty, the thunder announces his approach, 
 and the earth trembles in his presence. In conformity 
 with what has now been stated, the deities which were 
 acknowledged among such of the American tribes as 
 had any rude notions of a superior power, were all of a 
 malignant nature, and hostile to the interests and the 
 welfare of man. They were considered as interfering 
 with human concerns, only to watch the deviations of 
 the transgressor, and to mark him for punishment. 
 Their names were either expressive of this dreadful
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 597 
 
 character, or referable to those awful natural calamities, 
 which desolate the earth, and terrify its inhabitants. 
 The Brazilians were so much affrighted by thunder, 
 which in their country is tremendous and frefjucnt, that 
 it was not only the object of reverence among them, but 
 the word which conveyed an idea of it to their minds 
 was their most common and significant appellation for 
 the divinity whom they feared. They named him Tou- 
 pan, or Thunder. But besides the calamities arising 
 from the more terrible revolutions of uature, tlic dan- 
 gers of the savage state arc so many and formidable, 
 that man, encompassed with difficulty, and teeling his 
 weakness, is rendered thoughtful by distress; and has 
 no resource, but in a protection and guidance superior 
 to those of mortals. He thinks of various means for 
 procuring the interference of an unseen arm, and is 
 constant and zealous in executing whatever may be ne- 
 cessary for the accomplishment of his wishes. The 
 invisible and powerful agent, whose assistance he prays 
 for, is, however, considered as a local being, and in the 
 idea of the savage is invested with the human form : he 
 is regarded as possessed of the same feelings, inclina- 
 tions, and passions, with those who dread his anger, or 
 sue for his kindness. 
 
 When the mind has been enlightened by revelation, 
 or instructed by science, it is still beyond the power of 
 the human faculties, to form a direct and enlarged no- 
 tion of a spiritual agent ; and it is only by transferring 
 the thought, of which we are conscious, to a being who 
 possesses it in a superior degree, that we can arrive at 
 any thing which approaches to that notion. Our know- 
 ledge of the Divinity is of an imperfect and negative 
 kind. It is not to be wondered, therefore, that the sa- 
 vage who is a stranger to reflection, uninformed and 
 rude, should imagine, that the beings whose vengeance 
 he fears, or whose aid he solicits, are of a nature similar 
 to his own. Among a few of the American tribes, in- 
 deed, there appears to be something like an irregular 
 pointing at more correct notions of a deity; they have 
 some indistinct and wavering discernment of a being, 
 who made the world, and presides over the changes 
 which take place upon the earth. They even call him 
 the Great Spirit; but they attach no idea to the word 
 3/iirii, which would lead us to believe that they have any 
 conception of a God who is divested of corporeal organs. 
 They have no temples, no ministers of religion, and no 
 established form of public worship. {Cuiiiil/a, ii. 157.) 
 And their mythology is so wild, so incoherent, and ab- 
 surd, that it does not merit a place in any regular his- 
 tory. Areskoui,or Agriskoue, the god of battle, is the 
 chief divinity of the North American Indians. Him 
 they invoke, by a solemn imprecation, and appease by 
 various ceremonies when they go forth to war; and they 
 believe that they will be successful, or otherwise, ac- 
 cording as he is more or less disposed to favour their 
 wishes. They acknowledge also a being whom they 
 denominate the Master of Life ; and a great number of 
 inferior spirits, or genii, who take part in the concerns 
 of mortals, and occasion their happiness or misery. 
 These are of course, divided into the beneficent and the 
 malign ; from the latter, the diseases and calamities inci- 
 dent to human nature ai-e supposed to originate ; and on 
 the agency of the former, the cure of diseases, and suc- 
 cess in undertakings of smaller importance, are ima- 
 gined to depend. 
 
 After endeavouring to trace the notions of a superior 
 power, which the uncivilized inhabitants of the western 
 
 continent have been able to form, let us next attend to 
 the means employed by these uncultivated people for 
 averting the displeasure, or securing the protection, of 
 the divinities which they acknowledge. 
 
 Among a people hi the infancy of reflection and im- 
 provement, the deities themselves arc not so much the 
 objects of attention, as the great changes and revolutions 
 of nature to which they are conceived to give rise. To 
 avert the calamities which threaten them, is, therefore, 
 the chief concern of the rude tribes scattered over the 
 American continent. In order to effectuate this purpose, 
 they have not recourse, as among nations more civilized, 
 to prayers and penance, offerings and victims; but to 
 charms, amulets, and incantations, which are fancied to 
 have the power of saving them from all events of a dis- 
 astrous nature. Witchcraft prevails in every quarter of 
 the New World. It was perhaps from knowing that 
 some kinds of matter were useful in healing wounds, and 
 painful affections of the body, that other kinds of it were 
 supposed to be possessed of a higher and more opera- 
 tive virtue ; and able to rescue those who employed 
 them from evils of greater malignity, and calamities of 
 more destructive influence. Accidents of all descrip- 
 tions, whether afl'ecting individuals or communities, 
 were believed to lie within the reach of these portions 
 of matter, duly worn or used. Hence, among all rude 
 nations, there is a wonderful connection between super- 
 stition and medicine. The Manitous, or Okkis, of the 
 North Americans, were sometimes regarded as amulets, 
 or charms, which could preserve them from all dangers ; 
 and sometimes as divinities, whose aid they might im- 
 plore in circumstances of distress. The Autmoins, 
 Piayas, and Alexis, in other parts of the New World, 
 were the physicians, as well as the diviners or priests, 
 of the tribes to which they belonged. As diseases and 
 misfortunes were attributed to supernatural influence, 
 a variety of mysterious rites, equally solemn and ridicu- 
 lous, were prescribed and performed, in order to coun- 
 teract that influence, or convert it to the advantage of 
 those who dreaded its effects ; and to these ceremonies, 
 the Iroquois, and other North Americans, have recourse 
 with a childish simplicity, as often as they are exposed 
 to suffering. 
 
 But some tribes of the western continent have luade 
 greater advances towards a regular worsiiip; and in- 
 stances are not wanting of hills, trees, and lakes, mark- 
 ed out as the residence of particular divinities, and con- 
 secrated to their service. The Natchez, however, and 
 the people of Bogota, as they were by far the most civi- 
 lized of the ruder nations which inhabit America, so 
 their religious ideas were much more improved than 
 those of the suriomiding tribes. Among the Natchez, 
 the sun was the chief object of reverence. Temples 
 were built and dedicated to this luminary ; and in these 
 structvu'es, which were conipaiativcly magnificent, a sa- 
 cred fire was kept perpetually burning, as the purest 
 and most expressive symbol of the divinity whom they 
 worshipped. An aged woman, together with other mi- 
 nisters devoted to the service of the temple, had it in 
 charge to watch and to feed the holy flame. Festivals 
 were appointed in honour of the god. At these the 
 whole nation assembled, relinquishing their ordinary 
 pursuits; consecrating their time and their thoughts to 
 the divinity; and performing the rites and ceremonies 
 which wci-e believed to be most acceptable to him, and 
 most effectual in procuring his favour. These rites 
 were numerous and solemn; and whether it arose from
 
 598 
 
 AMEBIC A. 
 
 the mild inllueiicc ol' the power which ihey acknow- 
 ledged, or Irom some oUiei- cause wliich lias not been 
 mentioned, no blood was shed in their suered observan- 
 ces. [Duinoril,\. 158. I.a/ilau, \. \(>7 .) To man, unin- 
 slrXieted by revelation, the sun appears to be the most 
 natural and attractive object of religious contemplation. 
 His presence difluses liijht, Rrtility, and joy; and when 
 he withdraws himscll Irom the view of mortals, dark- 
 ness, with all its Jissociated terrors, succeeds. His in- 
 fltience is benignant, animating, and universal. As fire 
 is the purest of the elements, and as it strikes the senses 
 with the greatest effect, it was chosen among the 
 Natchez as the most proper emblem of their divinity ; 
 and in this circumstance, as well as in the object of 
 their worship, they resembled the ancient Persians, a 
 nation far superior to the Natchez, yet agreeing with 
 them in the most refined and innocent species of super- 
 stition, which men, destitute of revelation, have any 
 where adopted. Among the Romans too, a sacred fire, 
 watched and fed by priestesses of spotless purity, was 
 not unknown. In conjunction with the sun, the inhabit- 
 ants of Bogota worshipped also the moon. Though the 
 influence of this latter ))ody upon the earth is neither so 
 decisive nor so useful as that of the former; yet unen- 
 lightened and barbarous nations have generally received 
 them both into the number of their divinities. The Bo- 
 gotans had a religious system more fixed and complete 
 than that of the Natchez. They had temples, priests, 
 altars, and sacrifices. Human victims were offered to 
 the deities whom they feared ; and the blood of a child, 
 a sister, or a friend, streamed in the places hallowed to 
 their worship, in order to avert their displeasure, or 
 stimulate their khidness. 
 
 With regard to the doctrine of a future state, the 
 notions of the American tribes are in some respects 
 peculiar to themselves. They have no distinct concep- 
 tion of an existence, wholly spiritual, beyond the grave. 
 Their ideas do not reach so far, as either to admit or to 
 doubt of an eternal duration in the future world ; but, 
 satisfied that death does not put an end to their being, 
 they look not beyond an indefinite time, .which succeeds 
 the dissolution of the body. That there is a future 
 state, however, is an opinion entertained from one ex- 
 tremity of America to the other ; and is indeed so gen- 
 eral, wherever man is found, that it may be regarded as 
 coeval with his nature. In some places of the New 
 World, the marks by which we can discover it are in- 
 distinct and rare ; but in no part of the western con- 
 tinent is it altogether unknown. " The Brazilians," says 
 Nieuhoff, with equal simplicity and truth, "have a tradi- 
 tion among them, that their souls do not die with their 
 bodies, but that they are transformed cither into de- 
 vils, or spirits ; or else enjoy a great deal of pleasure, 
 with dancing and singing in some pleasant fields, which 
 they say are behind the mountains. These fields are 
 enjoyed by all the brave men and women who have kil- 
 led and eaten many of their enemies." {^Voyages and 
 Travels to Brazil. Churchill's Collec. ii. 132.) The 
 ideas of the American tribes, with regard to the condi- 
 tion of man in the future state, are taken from what con- 
 stitutes his chief happiness in this. They believe that 
 after death, he exists in a country where the sun shines 
 with unclouded light, and no whirlwind tears up the 
 trees by the roots ; where the rivers are stored with 
 fish, and the forests arc stocked with game ; where 
 hunger is unknown, and plenty continues throughout 
 Mie year without effort or care. His occupations, too, 
 
 are imagined to be of the same kind as in the present 
 life ; and eminence and reputation are supposed to be 
 procured by the qualities which entitle their possessor 
 here to honour and to fame. They give the first 
 places, in their land of spirits, to the courageous war- 
 rior who has put to death the greatest number of his 
 enemies, and devoured their flesh ; and to the hunter 
 who has distinguished himself the most, in the exertions 
 of the chace ; and it is their practice to bury the hatchet 
 and the bow of a leader in the same grave with his 
 body, that he may not be destitute of arms when he en- 
 ters upon the future world. They likewise deposit in 
 his tomb, the skins and stufi's of which their garments 
 are made, Indian com, venison, drugs, utensils ol dif- 
 ferent kinds, and whatever else they hold to be neces- 
 sary or convenient, in their simple estimate of life. — See 
 Creuxii, Hist. Can. p. 91. De Rochefort His. dea Antil- 
 les, ■p. 568. De la Fct/ieric, ii, 44. iii. 8 ; and Colden, J-'ive 
 A'at. i. 17. 
 
 In some districts, a more remarkable custom pre- 
 vails. When a cacique is buried, a number ol his 
 wives, officers, and favourites, are put to death, that he 
 may be attended in the country of spiiiis as his dignity 
 requires ; and such has been the rage ot dying in this 
 manner, that the elders of a tribe have been known to 
 interfere, lest the strength of the community should be 
 impaired by the too rapid diminution of its numbers. 
 By the account of Dumont, however, it appears, that 
 this extraordinary zeal is by no means universal. That 
 gentleman relates in his /Memoir sur J^ouisiane, i. 227. 
 that he was present at the funeral of a great chief among 
 the Natchez, and that the feelings of those who were 
 about to suffer on that awful occasion were extremely 
 different. Some courted with eagerness and impatience 
 the honour ol being interred with their leader; others 
 dreaded their fate, and wished to avoid it ; and a few of 
 them saved their lives by escaping into the woods. Nor 
 are the savages altogether destitute of attention to the 
 condition of the victims. For, as the Bramins give an 
 intoxicating draught to the women who are to die by 
 fire in honour of their husbands, that their sufferings 
 may be lessened by the approach of insensibility ; so the 
 Indians give pills made of tobacco, which has a similar 
 effect, to those who are appointed to accompany their 
 chiefs into the world of spirits. These pills they oblige 
 the victims to swallow. 
 
 There are, among the American tribes, many pre- 
 tenders to a knowledge of futurity. The number of 
 diviners, sorcerers, or jugglers, is exceedingly great; 
 and their predictions, are listened to with attention, and 
 received with implicit confidence. But these conjurors, 
 or wizards, not only pretend to an acquaintance with all 
 that is past, and all that is to come ; they likewise give 
 out, that, by means of their spells and incantations, they 
 are able to command what is future, and regulate the 
 order of events which are yet to take place. Hence 
 they are applied to in all cases where good is expected, 
 or evil is feared. If the Indians have been unsuccessful 
 in hunting, or if they have been surprised and over- 
 powered by theu- enemies, the sorcerers employ their 
 whole art to ascertain the cause of their misfortunes, and 
 the issue of the calamities which have befallen them. 
 For this purpose, a thousand ridiculous practices are in 
 use. The delusion of the multitude is inconceivable ; 
 the wizards have acquired a name and authority ; and 
 such is their influence among the people of America, 
 that nothing is undertaken without their approbation and
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 599 
 
 advice. Superstition appears in the form of which wc 
 arc now speaking, even where the savages of the New 
 World are least improved. Where the reasoning 
 faculty is almost unexercised, where the ideas are few 
 and incorrect, where language has as yet assumed no 
 definite appearance, where records are unknown, and 
 tradition passes speedily away ; even there, man, pre- 
 sumptuous in his ignorance, dares to remove the veil 
 ■which the Almighty Spirit kuidly interposes between 
 \is and futurity, to pry into the secret determinations of 
 omniscience, and to guide the counsels of infinite wis- 
 dom. 
 
 We have now contemplated the rude natives of 
 America, in regard to their political state, their mode of 
 warfare, and their, religion ; let us therefore proceed to 
 consider them a little more closely, and attend to them 
 in the privacy of domestic life. j,. 
 
 IV. Of the Domestic State of the American Indians. 
 
 The duration of that union, which has for its object 
 the propagation of the species, is always limited by the 
 case or difficulty with which the offspring is reared. This 
 law of nature is general. Where infancy is long and 
 helpless, the care of both parents is required ; and a 
 connection, equally intimate and durable, takes place. 
 The infancy of man is longer, more feeble, and depen- 
 dent, than that of other animals : it is after a tedious 
 education that he reaches his maturity, and is fitted for 
 the active duties which he is called to perform. Hence 
 it is, that the union between husband and wife has been 
 regarded in the earliest times, and by the most uncivili- 
 zed nations, as a covenant at once sacred and lasting. 
 Even among the rudest tribes of America, who have no 
 settled habitation, and live without religion and without 
 law, this union was established ; and the rights of mar- 
 riage were fixed and respected. Where subsistence 
 Avas procured with difficulty, the male confined himself 
 to one wife ; it was particularly so with the Hurons and 
 Iroquois, among whom polygamy was unknown ; but 
 in more benignant regions, where the hardships of the 
 savage state were less severely felt, the practice of hav- 
 ing many wives was introduced, and hadijccome general 
 among the inhabitants. In some provinces the matri- 
 monial union continued through life ; in others it was 
 broken on the most trifling pretexts, and often without 
 any reason which the husband thought it necessary to 
 assign. 
 
 But whether marriage was lasting or not, the condi- 
 tion of the women in the New World was universally 
 degrading, abject, and wretched. They were the slaves, 
 rather than the companions of their husbands.* Unlike 
 the polished nations of Europe, and unlike some of its 
 rudest inhabitants which history has described, as the 
 Goths and Scandinavians, the uncivilized people of Ame- 
 rica regarded their females with indifierence and con- 
 tempt. Among them, the matrimonial contract was in 
 reality a purchase ; and wherever this is the case, the 
 women are the property of those who buy them, and 
 are treated as such : they fall at once to the level of ser- 
 vants ; and among barbarous nations, a servant is but 
 another name for a slave. (Kamcs' Sketches of the Hist, 
 of Man, i. 184.) As money is unknown, the means of 
 purchase are various ; in one place, the suiter, after de- 
 claring his intention of marriage, gives presents of furs, 
 hatchets, arrows, or whatever he considers as most ex- 
 cellent and valuable, to the parents of the maiden whom 
 he courts; in another he supplies them with game ; in 
 
 a thiid, he assists them in hollowing and shaping their 
 canoes ; and, in a fourth, he aids them in cultivating 
 the ground for a definite portion of time. When the 
 presents are accepied, or the stated service is perform- 
 ed, he demands and obtains liis wife. But such is the 
 misery of the women in the American continent, that 
 slavery is a name by far too gentle and respectful for 
 their deplorable condition. Tliey are doomed to all the 
 offices of labjur and fatigue. Tasks are imposed upon 
 them without feeling or consideraiion, and they are se- 
 verely beaten it they neglect to perform them. Their 
 services are exacted and received without requital, ac- 
 knowledgment, or complacency. They approach their 
 tyrants with reverence and fear ; and it is seldom that 
 they approach them but when they are commanded : 
 they are not allowed to eat in their presence ; they share 
 in none of their amusements ; and such is their awful 
 perception of this barbarous distinction between the 
 sexes, that instances are recorded of mothers who have 
 destroyed their female children as soon as they were 
 born, in order to free them from a state of harsh and 
 unmitigated subjection. Gumilla having reproached a 
 mother of South America for killing her infant daugh- 
 ter, the woman made the following pathetic reply, which, 
 he says, is literally translated from the Betoyan lan- 
 guage. " Father, (these were her words,) if you will 
 allow me, I will lell you what I have in my heart. Would 
 to God, father, would to God, that my mother, when she 
 bore me, had had sufficient love and compassion for me, 
 to spare me the toil and the pangs which I have suffer- 
 ed to this day, and which I shall suffer to the end of my 
 life. If my mother had buried me when I was born, I 
 should have been dead, but I should not have felt death ; 
 and I should have been freed from lasting pains, equal 
 to those of dying ; pains which I cannot escape, more 
 than the daily toil which wrings my soul. Ah 1 who can 
 tell what anguish yet awaits me before I shall die ! Re- 
 present to yourself, lather, the cruel toils to which a 
 woman among us is subject. The men go to see us 
 work, and only carry their bows and arrows ; while we 
 are loaded with heavy baskets ; often one child at our 
 breasts, and another at our backs. Our husbands kill 
 a bird, or catch a fish, while we dig the earth, and sup- 
 port all the labours of the harvest, amidst the heat of a 
 burning sun. They return in the evening without any 
 burden ; and we, besides our children, bring roots to 
 eat, and maize fpr their drink. Our husbands, on their 
 arrival, converse with their friends ; and we are obliged 
 to encrease our daily toil in searching for wood and 
 water, and in preparing their supper. When they have 
 eaten, they go to sleep, while wc pass almost all the 
 night in pounding maize to make their chica. And what 
 benefit do we derive from thus watching to procure 
 them pleasure ? They drink their chica ; they become 
 drunk ; and, losing their senses, they beat us with 
 clubs. They drag us by the hair, and trample us under 
 their feet. Would to God, father, that mv mother had 
 buried me the instant I was born I — What greater bless- 
 ing can an Indian woman procure for her daughter, than 
 an exemption from pains and servitude, a thousand times 
 worse than death ? O father, if my mother had buried 
 me when she brought me forth, my heart would not have 
 had so much to suffer, nor my eyes so much to weep."* 
 See Histoire de VOrenoque, tome ii. p. 239. 
 
 Thus the inhabitants of the western continent are ut- 
 ter strangers to some of the most refined enjoyments 
 which man can experience : enjoyments which arise
 
 600 
 
 AJMERICA. 
 
 from the uiuou of the icxcs, regulated by temperance, 
 and .siipporti,<l by equality. And women, destined by 
 tlic C^reator ol the human race, to be our assistants in 
 prosperity, and our comforters in distress, are sunk in 
 America to the condition ol slaves, timid and trembling 
 in tlie presence of their lordly masters, the drudges of 
 their will, and almost excluded from their society. 
 
 Among the savages of the New World, the chief ob- 
 ject of attention is war. Every part of their education 
 has an immediate reference to this; and their minds are 
 constantly occupied in forming schemes to surprise or 
 annoy their enemies. While the young men of a tribe 
 pursue the wild animals, on which they depend for sub- 
 sistence, it is one great concern among them, to show, 
 by their dexterity, boldness, and perseverance, that they 
 are qualified to be enrolled among the warriors of their 
 tribe, and to avenge the wrongs of their country. Every 
 thing which they see and hear is fitted to inspire them 
 with a love of military fame. To this passion for war, 
 which is universal among the rude natives of the west- 
 ern continent, their indifference towards their females 
 Ivas been ascribed ; but, in all probability, the cause of 
 that indifference lies deeper in their constitution. If 
 the American savages had not been destitute, in a good 
 measure, of that ardour for the opposite sex, which the 
 youth of other nations experience, the passion for war 
 would not have taken the exclusive possession of their 
 nrinds. The love of military fame is the effect, rather 
 than the cause, of the coldness with which they regard 
 their females; and that coldness must ultimately be as- 
 cribed to a peculiarity in their constitution, aided and 
 confirmed liy some powerful circumstances in their 
 mode of life. Accordingly, the success of the Spa- 
 niards, in many of their expeditions, as in that of Cortez 
 to the Mexican capital, depended chiefly on tlieir fa- 
 vour with the women ; a favour which was to be ascribed, 
 more to the keen passions and vigour of the Europeans, 
 than to any art or contrivance by which it was pro- 
 cured. 
 
 It is owing to the depressed state of the females in 
 the New World, combined in many places with an ex- 
 treme scarcity of ^jrovisions, that they bear fewer chil- 
 dren than those in the ancient continent. That exer- 
 cise, which, if it were moderate, would give health to 
 the constitution, and vigour to its efforts, overpowers 
 among them the principle of action, because it is pro- 
 longed into toil, and because that toil i^incessant. Their 
 bodily vigour is impaired by tJie labours to which they 
 are subjected. In less favourable climates, where sub- 
 sistence is not easily procured, the mother cannot at- 
 tempt to rear a second child, till the first is able to pro- 
 vide for itself. Accordingly, it is related by Herera, 
 that the Indian women suckle their children for many 
 years ; even when they are considerably advanced in 
 childhood, the milk of the mother is still a part of their 
 food; and it is a law of the female economy, that a wo- 
 man does not again become pregnant till the period of 
 nursing is at an end. In some of the more barbarous 
 tribes, it is a maxim not to rear above two children; 
 and when twins are born, one of them is exposed and 
 forsaken. Ifamother dies while she is nursing a child, 
 it is buried in the same grave with its parent. Large 
 families, siich as exist in the polished societies of Eu- 
 rope or of Asia, are not to be found among the rude 
 inhabitants of the western hemisphere. And when, 
 by indolence, and the want of foresight natural to sa- 
 vages, the difficulty of supporting even their less nu- 
 
 merous offspring is very great, affection towards their 
 children yields to the imperious demands of hunger, 
 and they abandon them, or put them to death. (Vcne- 
 ga, Hisi. of Cutifurnia., i. 8.i.) The voice of nature is 
 stilled, and the emotions of parental loudness arc re- 
 pressed, by the hardships of their situation. But in 
 more auspicious climates, where food is abvnidant, the 
 affection of the American Indians towards their progeny, 
 while young and helpless, is as warm and as active as 
 among any other people. This affection, however, is 
 confined to the period of infancy : as the children 
 advance in years, their parents cease to regard them 
 as the objects of their care; their wants are few, and 
 the means of supplying them are generally within 
 their reach; they are soon able to provide for them- 
 selves; and they learn, by the example of those among 
 them, who are eminent for their skill in war or in hunt- 
 ing, rather than by parental instruction, all that is neces- 
 sary to fit them for the duties of their simple life. 
 When they arrive at maturity, they are left entirely to 
 their own* direction, in the full enjoyn.t;nt of liberty. 
 They are seldom instructed or advised ; and chiding 
 aiul chastisement are altogether unknown. A young 
 Carib having struck his father, who had disobliged 
 him, the latter testified no displeasure on account of the 
 blow ; and a Spaniard having remonstrated with him, 
 and urged him to punish the insolence of his son, the 
 Indian addressed him in the following words: "Do you 
 believe, my friend, that our children are in the same 
 circimrstances with yours? It is not so: if I should 
 punish my son for the injury which I have now received, 
 he would kill me as soon as he is grown." {Gumi/lu, 
 ii. 213.) In an American hut, there is neither govern- 
 ment, nor order, nor union : the children do not obey 
 their parents, and the parents are, for the most part, 
 indifferent about their children. The members of a 
 family in the New World seem as if they had been 
 accidently brought together; no common interest ap- 
 pears to cement their association, and no affection 
 towards each other, to fill their bosoms or to regulate 
 their conduct. The wife is the slave of the husband, 
 and he detains her near him, because her service is ne- 
 cessary for his support; and the children attach them- 
 selves to their parents, because they find the hut in 
 which they live already built, to afford tliem a shelter 
 from the weather. 
 
 V. Of the Dress, ^rms, Huts, Utensils, of the American 
 Indians, and the Arts relating to these, which are kno%vn 
 among them, 
 
 m 
 
 The arts of a people who have not subjected the 
 lower animals to their dominion, and are ignorant of the 
 useful metals, must be few and imperfect. It may be 
 of advantage, however, to attend to them, in as far as 
 they exhibit the genius and dispositions of human be- 
 ings in the early stages of improvement; and as they 
 point out one remarkable difference among others, be- 
 tween the inhabitants of the Old World and the New. 
 Indeed, it may be said, that the people of America were, 
 at the time when they were discovered by the Spa- 
 niards, fully three centuries behind those of Europe or 
 Asia, in whatever contributes to unite and to civilize 
 mankind. 
 
 It would be the first concern of a savage to provide 
 some covering for his body. In the warmer latitudes 
 of America, where the changes which take place in the
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 60] 
 
 atmosphere liave little effect \ipon ihc constitution, most 
 of the barbarous natives were wliolly destitute of clothes. 
 Others, (leviatinij a little from Ibis state of naked sim- 
 plicity, had a slight covering for those parts which 
 modesty requires us to conceal. Jiut though the Ame- 
 rican savages were destitute of clothes, they were not 
 unacquainted with ornaments. They smeared their 
 bodies with substances of various hues, and dressed 
 their hair with much art and anxiety. Though of a red 
 or copper colour themselves, they affected the same 
 colour as an ornament ; and the mines, where cinnabar 
 was to be found, were of no other use to them than 
 that of furnishing them with a pigment for the embel- 
 lishment of their persons.* They impressed upon 
 their bodies the figures of different animals; and tliey 
 spent no little time, and bore much pain, while they 
 decorated themselves after this fantastic manner. They 
 wore also glittering stones, shells, and small pieces of 
 gold, in their noses, ears, and checks. But the object 
 of the savage in dressing himself, is not the same with 
 that which prompts the young men in civilized coun- 
 tries to adorn their persons ; the embellishments ol the 
 Indian have a reference to war more than to gallantry. 
 Such is the degraded state of the women in the New 
 World, that it is reckoned beneath the dignity of the 
 male to adorn himself, in order to appear amiable in 
 their presence. It is when be designs to march against 
 his enemies that the Indian puts on his most valuable 
 ornaments; it is when he is about to enter the coun- 
 cil of his nation, to appear among the heroes of his 
 tribe, who can enumerate many scalps, and have paci- 
 fied with much blood the spirits of the dead ; it is in 
 these circumstances that he decks himself with all his 
 art and care, and shines in all the horror of barbarous 
 decoration. 
 
 The American Indian spends much of his time in 
 preparing himself for the council or the field ; the bu- 
 siness of dressing and sorting the colours to his taste, 
 is held to be one of the first importance ; and his ut- 
 most care and assiduity are employed to finish it in the 
 most perfect manner. (Ulloa, Memoires sur la Decou- 
 vertCf &c. tom. ii. p. 8.) Among some tribes, the wo- 
 men are occupied during a great part of the day in 
 adorning their husbands ; effacing whatever does not 
 meet with their approbation; compounding the colours 
 anew, and repeating the application with more exact- 
 ness than before. Two lines are drawn upon the eye- 
 lids, two upon the lips, and the same number upon the 
 eyebrows and ears; the chin and neck receive their pe- 
 culiar ornaments, and a thick covering of vermilion 
 distinguishes the cheeks. The colours, among which 
 the red predominates, are introduced by puncturing the 
 skin ; and the extent of the surface which is thus adorn- 
 ed, is always proportioned to the exploits which the 
 warrior can enumerate; some painting only their arms, 
 others their arms and legs, and others their thighs. 
 But he who has reached the perfection of renown, is 
 decorated from the waist upwards, and has the figures 
 of bows and arrows, hatchets, and animals of different 
 kinds, imprinted on his body. These marks consti- 
 tute the heraldry of the savages ; and among them, its 
 distinctions are applied with greater attention to per- 
 
 sonal qualifications, than among the polished nations ol 
 the ancient world. The work of dressing, however, is 
 not yet finished. The hair being cut off from the head, 
 or pulled out by tin: roots, excepting only a small por- 
 tion on the top of the crown ; this lock is stiffened with 
 gums, and adorned with beads, shells, wampum, and 
 feathers of various hues. The curtilages of the cars 
 havuig been split cjuite round, are extended w ith cords, 
 so as to meet on the nape of the neck, where they are 
 tied. The head itself is painted of a bright vermilion 
 colour, so far down as the eyebrows ; and when the 
 warrior is in full attire, it is sprinkled with a white 
 powder; the nose is likewise bored and hung with 
 trinkets ; and, to complete the whole, plumes and tufts 
 of feathers are attached to the arms, legs, and ancles. 
 These last, however, are the tokens ol valour, and none 
 but such as have distinguished themselves in the field 
 are permitted to wear them. Wh«n an Indian is thus 
 adorned, he is the vainest of all human beings ; he walks 
 more erect; his eyes sparkle with satisfaction and de- 
 light ; and he is incessantly employed in contemplating 
 himself, and changing his attitudes, in order to exhibit 
 his person with greater variety and effect. 
 
 Among the natives of America, the love of ornament 
 and show, which is the favourite passion of European 
 women, is confined almost exclusively to the males. 
 The decorations of the females are few as well as sim- 
 ple; and in a state of society, where they are looked 
 upon as no better than beasts of burden, they have hardly 
 any motive to adorn their persons. The women of South 
 America, in particular, dress their hair in the style of 
 what is called the urcu, a word whicli, among them, de- 
 notes ckvatioti. It consists in throwing the hair for- 
 ward from the crown of the head upon the brow; and 
 in bringing it round from the ears to the parts above 
 the eye; so that the forehead and eye-brows are com- 
 pletelyhid. In many of the northern regions a similar 
 custom prevails. The rest of the hair is tied behind, 
 in one and the same manner throughout the whole of the 
 American continent ; and with an uniformity so exact, 
 that this circumstance has been thought to countenance 
 the opinion of such writers as ascribe a common origin 
 to all the people of the western hemisphere. 
 
 The rudest tribes, and those who are least acquainted 
 with ornament, are, however, far from being satisfied 
 with the attention of nature to the beauty of their per- 
 sons. 
 
 They mould the heads of their children, as soon as 
 they are born, into a variety of shapes, and press them, 
 in one instance, into the figure of a cone ; and in ano- 
 ther, into that of a square. They extend the ears and 
 the nose by different processes; and in some districts, 
 they apply tight bandages to the calves of the legs, in 
 order to increase their size and defonnity. {Ovifdo, Hist. 
 lib. ii). c. 5. Gumilla, i. 197, e( seg.) And such is the 
 obstinacy of the Indians in these perverse attempts, to 
 derange the plans of nature, or improve upon her w orks, 
 that the children frequently die in consequence of the 
 violent treatment which incorrect notions of beauty have 
 doomed them to endure. 
 
 From the dress of the American savage, we are led, 
 in the natural progress of enquiry, to attend to his habi- 
 
 • Un sauvage quel'on demandoit liors de chez. lui, repondit, qu'il etoit nud, et qu'il ne pouvolt pas paroitre ; sa femme ne I'avoit pas 
 encore frottc : son pretcndu h'abillement etoit une miction de graisse. — JiLemoires par Ul/oa, tom. ii- p 406. obs. et add. All savages ap- 
 pear to be fond of painting their bodies. " Omnes vero se Britanni," says Julius Cssar, speaking of the ancient inhabitants of tlus coun- 
 trv, "vitro seinficiunt." See also P. Mela lib.iii. cap. 6. andPlinv,lib. xxii.c-l. 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. ' 4 G
 
 602 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 lation. Willi him, inclcetl, iliis sccins to be an object of 
 very little tliuught or care. War being his chief con- 
 cern, he paints and adorns himself with no other view 
 than to exhibit his military character, and support liis 
 pretensions to warlike fame ; and he is indifferent about 
 the enjoyment of peaceful or domestic life. While he 
 is most anxious to decorate his person, he is altogether 
 unmindful of the convenience or neatness of his hut. 
 Some of the American Indians have no houses at all; 
 but roam, during the day, from place to place, and retire 
 imder thick trees, from the heat of the sun ; while in the 
 night, they shelter themselves with branches and leaves 
 from the inclemency of the weather. When the rainy 
 season approaches, they withdraw into caves, and sel- 
 dom venture from them, unless they are compelled by 
 hunger to quit their retreat. " The people of Cinaloa, 
 a province of California," says Rilias, " as they have no 
 habitations to afford them shelter, gather bundles of 
 reeds or strong grass, and binding them together atone 
 end, they open them at the other; and fitting them to 
 their heads, they are covered as with a large cap, which, 
 like a penthouse, throws off the rain, and will keep them 
 dry for several hours. During the warm season, they 
 form a shed with the branches of trees, which protects 
 them from the sultry rays of the sun. When exposed 
 to cold, they make large fires, round which they sleep 
 in the open air." (^Historia de los Triuw/i/tes, Sec. p. 7.) 
 Other tribes, more advanced than the Cinaloans, live in 
 temporary huts, called wigwams ; these they erect with 
 great expedition ; and as they are not provided with any 
 domestic furniture, they abandon them without any con- 
 cern. Throughout the western continent, the habita- 
 tions of the savages are mean, raised ouly with a view 
 to shelter, totally destitute of elegance, and close and 
 filthy beyond all conception. They are in general so 
 low, that the natives must creep on their hands and feet 
 before they can enter them ; and as they have no win- 
 dows, a large hole in the top serves at once to admit the 
 light and the rain; and affords, at the same time, a pas- 
 sage for the smoke. Their domestic utensils are few 
 and awkward in the extreme. In some of the provinces 
 they have vessels of earthen ware ; but these are for 
 the most part unknown ; in others, they hollow a block 
 of wood, and, filling it with water, cause the fluid to 
 boil, by means of hot stones which they throw into it. 
 Instruments, rudely made of bone or of flint, are their 
 substitutes for knives. '■ 
 
 When their huts are so numerous as to constitute a 
 village, they are placed without the least attention to 
 regularity, and therefore no street can be perceived 
 antong them. According to Barrerc, their aspect is 
 melancholy and disagreeable ; the fields which surround 
 ihcm have no gaiety, and every thing in their neigh- 
 bourhood is gloomy and savage. In most of the villa- 
 ges there are two houses of distinction ; that of the 
 chief, and that in which the council of the nation is 
 held; though it often happens, that the elders and war- 
 riors assemble in the building appropriated to the leader 
 of the tribe. Sometimes also large houses are con- 
 structed for the reception of different families, who live 
 under the same roof, sit round the same fire, and have 
 no separate apartments in which they eat or sleep. The 
 women are therefore in common; yet in these habita- 
 lions, where- so many individuals are crowded together, 
 the utmost concoid prevails, and animosities and quar- 
 relling are seldom to be met with ; a proof, that the In- 
 dians are cither much more gentle, or rnuch more 
 
 phlegmatic, than the natives of Europe or Asia.— l-'or 
 some particulars relating to the chain of loits which 
 have been discovered in North America, see Ohio. 
 
 The arms of the American Indians are chiefly those 
 of an offensive kind ; they are prepared with considera- 
 ble ingenuity ; and when we remember that the savages 
 in whose hands they are found, are not only strangers 
 to regular labour, but unacquainted with instruments of 
 iron, our surprise at the neatness and efficacy of their 
 •weapons will be greatly increased. Their clubs are large, 
 often curiously wrought, and ornamented with shells. 
 Their lances are formed of wood, which they harden in 
 the fire, or point with bone; and these they throw with 
 such dexterity, that they rarely miss the object at which 
 they aim. The Brasilian savages are remarkable for 
 their skill in heaving the javelin. The bow and arrow, 
 however, is the weapon which is most efi"eclual, except- 
 ing the musket, in annoying an enemy at a distance; 
 and accordingly it was used for that purpose in the an- 
 cient continent, by the rudest of its inhaljitants, while 
 the arts were yet in the infancy of their improvement. 
 In the western hemisphere too, this weapon is in gene- 
 ral use ; not indeed ainong those tril)cs wliich are least 
 civilized ; for Piedrahita informs, that in some provinces, 
 the bow is imknown ; [Coaqtiisla del A'uevo Reytw, ix. 
 12.) but among all the nations who derive any part of 
 their subsistence from the chacc. In the construction of 
 this instrument no little ingenuity is shewn. It is often 
 composed of three pieces very nicely and exactly joined 
 together; these pieces, among the North Americans, 
 are commonly of fir or larch ; but as this wood has nei- 
 ther sufficient strength nor elasticity, they stiffen the 
 thicker part of the bow with lines made of the sinews 
 of their deer; and moistening it in water, to make it 
 draw more powerfully, they shoot with great dexterity 
 and effect. But the weapon most generally used by the 
 savages of the New World, is the hatchet or tomahawk. 
 With this dreadful and fatal instrument in their hands, 
 they rush upon their enemies, and put them to death. It 
 is usually made of stone, and furnished with an edge 
 and a point ; though its appearance varies considerably 
 in the different regions of America. In all of them, how- 
 ever, a single hatchet is of great value, as it is not form- 
 ed without much labour and care. To this list of wea- 
 pons, which the ingenuity of man has invented, and his 
 diligence has prepared for the purposes of destruction, 
 we must add another: for the Indians of North America 
 have been supplied by the Europeans with the musket; 
 and the effects of gunpowder are experienced in all their 
 engagements, and felt throughout the forests with which 
 tlieir country abounds. 
 
 But the perfection of Indian workmanship is the 
 canoe. In every province of America, the rivers and 
 lakes are so numerous, that its inhabitants perform 
 manv of their journeys by water. The people of Ca- 
 nada will enter the current of St Eawrence in vessels 
 which they make with the bark of trees; and these 
 vessels are so light, that they carry them without diffi- 
 culty or inconvenience, when shallows or cataracts pre- 
 vent them from sailing. The Esquimaux form their 
 canoes of wood or whalebone ; they smear them ^vith 
 oils, and cover them with skins ; and, protecting them- 
 selves in a similar manner, they continue whole months 
 on the ocean, from which they derive their subsistence. 
 (Ellis. Fojj. p. 134. Lafitau, Maurs. ii. 213.) In the 
 southern regions, the vessels of the natives are fbrmed 
 entirely of wood. They cut down a large tree, reduce it
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 603 
 
 to the proper shape, and hollow it with much laboui' aiul 
 patience. And notwithstanding its bulk and gravity, 
 tlicy move it so dcxteiously ihrougli the water, and turn 
 it according to their inclinations, that Europeans, ac- 
 quainted with all the iniprovemcnls of the nautical art, 
 have been astonished at the velocity of their course, and 
 the quickness of their evolutions. The piroi^ufs, or men 
 ot war belonging to the Indians, are such as might be 
 useful even to British seamen, and are often so large as 
 to contain tifty persons. The form and structure of all 
 these vessels, are well adapted to the service for which 
 they arc designed ; and in most instances, the workman- 
 ship is so neat, and the oniaments so splendid, as to be 
 thought utterly beyond the execution of savages, igno- 
 rant of the harder metals, and in other respects so des- 
 titute of taste. 
 
 But unless they are impelled by necessity, the opera- 
 lions of the American Indians are awkward and tedious. 
 Such is the deficiency in the instruments they employ, 
 and so great is their natural indolence, that any work 
 which they undertake, advances under their hands with 
 the most extraordinary slowness. Gumilla, who had 
 frequent opportunities of witnessing it, compares its 
 progress to the growth of an herb in the field. The 
 trunk of a tree which they have cut down, and which 
 they design to form into a canoe, often begins to rot be- 
 fore their labour is at an end. When a Carib builds a 
 house, he will suffer one part of it to decay before his 
 indolence will allow him to finish the other. Days and 
 months roll away, and the task is not completed. Even 
 when the Europeans have furnished them with the tools 
 of a more active and cultivated people, the habitual in- 
 dolence of the American savages prevails ; and accord- 
 iiigly, among the Spaniards, " the work of an Indian," 
 is a phrase by which they express any thing, in the per- 
 formance of which much time has been wasted, and 
 much labour thrown away. See the Lcttres Edifiaiites 
 et CurieiiseSf xv. 348. and the Voyage d'Uiloa, 335. 
 et seq. 
 
 6. Of the Lavguage of the American Tribes. 
 
 As all the natives of America, whom we are now con- 
 sidering, are in a state in which civilization has made 
 but little progress, we should expect to find their lan- 
 guage deficient in arbitrary sounds, and chiefly composed 
 of such as are held to be natural. This is said to be in 
 reality the case. The number of their words, which 
 have an associated and conventional meaning, is incon- 
 siderable. Their speech is full of exclamations, and 
 accompanied with a variety of gestures, introduced ei- 
 ther to complete the expression of the idea which it is 
 their intention to impart, or to convey it with greater 
 eftect. Among some of the ruder tribes, a sentence 
 appears to be a continued and unbroken sound ; diversi- 
 fied, however, by considerable changes of intonation, 
 and assisted by looks, and various motions of the body. 
 Among others, this length of sound is divided into por- 
 tions, uttered with short intervals between them. Still, 
 however, their words are much longer than those of any 
 civilized people ; and even their numerals, adverbs, and 
 conjunctions, are not exempted from this redundancy of 
 vocal expression. In North America, a name for a thing 
 often comprehends an enumeration of its qualities, and 
 is rather a definition than a name. (Golden, ffist. of the 
 Fh<e A'alions., vol. 1. p. 16. Long's Travels, Appendix.) 
 
 It has already been observed, that in the languages of 
 
 the American tribes, the words arc intimately connec- 
 ted with objects wiiich are without. They have no 
 general or abstract ideas, and of course no terms by 
 which such ideas are comnmnicated to others. In 
 polished society, and when man begins to reflect on the 
 operations of Intellect, the words by which the mind and 
 its qualities are expressed, lose, by degrees, their cor- 
 poreal signification, and acquire that which may be de- 
 nominated mental. A new association is formed ; the 
 term is now allied to mind ; and, as often as it is used, 
 it calls up the idea of something intellectual. This 
 might be illustrated by innumerable examples. Though 
 the word s/iiritus, in Latin, originally signified the breath, 
 it came, in the progress of thought, to denote the living- 
 principle within us, to which the breath was supposed 
 to bear a resemblance ; (Reid's Inijiiiry into the Hum. 
 JMind, c. vii. p. 448.) and in English we talk of a spirit 
 as an existence divested of Ijodily organs, and distinct 
 from iTiatter. The Greek word '?'fi», originally signi- 
 fied the diaphragm. In the language of the American 
 tribes, there are few expressions which have the im- 
 proved and intellectual meaning of which we are speak- 
 ing ; throughout all the less cultivated societies, the 
 first associations of sound with external objects remain 
 in their full force. The language is gross and material. 
 The mind of the savage has not yet been turned upon 
 itself; and though its powers ai'e sometimes exerted, 
 their operation is unnoticed and unknown. 
 
 Words are used to express the ideas which the mind 
 has formed ; ideas must therefore exist, before the lan- 
 guage which expresses them is introduced. As ideas 
 hold the first place, it is obvious that their number may 
 increase in a proportion greater than that of the sounds 
 which are already in use ; and that in a scarcity of vocal 
 enunciation, the same word may be employed to express 
 a variety of ideas. Hence it is, that in all languages 
 not highly cultivated and copious, the words are TrcXtj 
 17/ilMi., or have many significations. The most ancient 
 tongue with which we are acquainted, the Hebrew, is re- 
 markable for the various import of its words. The lan- 
 guage of every nation in the infancy of improvement, 
 possesses a similar character ; it is figurative to a great 
 degree, abounding in metaphors and allusions. The 
 speech of all the American tribes is of this description ; 
 and its figurative character, united with the simplicity 
 which pervades the savage life, renders it peculiarly ef- 
 fectual in the mouths of the orators, when they harangue 
 in the councils of the nation to which they belong. It 
 is, in this respect, not so much the language of a pecu- 
 liar people, as the language of man in a particular state 
 of society. 
 
 As the nations of the American continent are small, 
 and separated from one another by the circumstances 
 of their condition, as well as by unextinguishable en- 
 mity, there are almost as many languages to be found in 
 the New World as there are tribes. In every valley 
 there is a different people and a different tongue. 
 Whether these languages are referable to a common 
 source, we have not information sufficient to determine. 
 It is not to be questioned, however, that a considerable 
 affinity may be discovered among many of the dialects 
 in the western hemisphere ; and hence the speech of 
 some tribes has been pointed out as radical, and that of 
 others as derived. The general opinion is, that the pri- 
 mary languages of North America are those of the Hu- 
 rons and Algonquins ; while in the central and southern 
 regions, the Quichua, or speech of the Peruvians, the 
 4 G 2
 
 604 
 
 AiMKlilCA. 
 
 Bctoyan, Ihc Juriian, and that ol the Caiibs, hold a 
 * similar place. [Gumilhi, ii. 190. A/emoires P/iiluKO/i/ii- 
 ijues, juir Ulloa, ii. 1 10.) But whatever affinity may 
 subsist among- the various dialects of the New '\Vorld, 
 it seldom happens, that the individuals belonging to dif- 
 ferent tribes are able to converse, unless by gestures 
 and signs. In North America, these signs are peculiar, 
 and are deserving of notice. When an inhabitant of 
 Canada approaches a tribe, with whom he has no difi'er- 
 ences to acljust, and no inclination to quarrel, he bears in 
 his hand a large pipe, formed of clay or marble, 
 adorned with feathers, and styled " the calumet of 
 peace." It is the token of amity ; and whenever it is 
 offered and accepted, all the injuries are supposed to be 
 forgiven, and perfect harmony is established. A con- 
 siderable part of Indian politeness consists in p-esenting 
 the calumet. Among the North Americans, likewise, 
 belts of wampum are used, in order to express tiieir 
 purposes, and confirm their assertions. These belts are 
 continually in their hands ; and as it is by means of them 
 tiiat they preserve the memory of events which are past, 
 and the articles of the treaties into which they have en- 
 tered, either with the Europeans or with one another, 
 they may be considered as the written language of the 
 North Americans, as well as the indication of their de- 
 sires and resolutions. They consist of shells, wrought 
 into the form of beads, and of different colours, generally 
 black and white. The shells arc perforated, and strung 
 upon a thong ; and several of these thongs constitute a 
 belt. Whenever the North Americans engage in any 
 alliance, a belt of wampum is uniformly presented, and 
 each of the parties holds one of its extremities; these 
 extremities are composed of the black beads ; and the 
 white ones are placed in the middle, to signify, that the 
 parties have no hatred or animosity towards one another. 
 " Wampum," says Mr Long, " is of several colours, but 
 the white and black are chiefly used : the former is 
 made of the inside of the conque, or clam-shell ; the 
 latter of the mussel : both are worked in the form of a 
 long bead, and perforated, in order to be strung on 
 leather, and made up in belts. These belts are for va- 
 rious purposes : When a council is held, they are given 
 out with the speeches, and always proportioned, in the 
 size and the number of rows of wampum which they con- 
 tain, to the idea which the Indians entertain of the im- 
 portance of the meeting : they frequently consist of both 
 colours. Those given to Sir William Johnson were in 
 several vows, black on each side, and white in the mid- 
 dle : the white, being placed in the centre, was to ex- 
 press peace, and that the path between them was fair and 
 open. In the centre of the belt was the figure of a 
 diamond, made of white wampum, which the Indians 
 call the council fire. When Sir William Johnson held 
 a treaty with the savages, he took the belt by one 
 end, while the Indian chief held the other: if the chief 
 liad any thing to say, he moved his finger along the 
 white streak : if Sir William had any thing to commu- 
 nicate, he touched the diamond in the middle. These 
 belts arc also the records of former transactions ; and, 
 being worked in particular forms, are easily decyphered 
 I)y the Indians, and referred to in every treaty with the 
 white people. When a string, or belt of wampum, is re- 
 turned, it is a proof that the proposed treaty is not ac- 
 lepted, and that the negociation is at an end."— Long's 
 7'ravels, p. 45. See Canada. 
 
 7. Miscc/laneouii J'articu/urs res/tectiii^ the j\'a trven 
 of America. 
 
 The first of these which merits our attention, in a 
 general article of this kind, is the use of tobacco. The 
 practice of smoking is common among all the Indian 
 tribes which Europeans have had an opportunity of ex- 
 amining. It forms a part of every entertainment ; and in 
 the intervals of hunting, sleeping, and eating, it occu- 
 pies no small portion of their time. In many of their 
 religious ceremonies, tobacco is used, either as an of- 
 fering to their divinity, or in order to produce a tempo- 
 rary enthusiasm among the worshippers ; and instances 
 have been mentioned, where it has been taken in such 
 extraordinary quantity, that death has been the unavoid- 
 able consequence. 
 
 The practice of dancuig is likewise general through- 
 out the American continent. When the native of the 
 western hemisphere has the prospect of engaging in the 
 dance, he shakes off his slumbers and his indolence ; he 
 rises from the shade under which he has reposed, or 
 springs from his mat; and becoming at once active and 
 frolicsome, he piepares to acquit himself with the ut- 
 most exertion of his dexterity. Among the savages of 
 the New World, this amusement is to be considered 
 rather as a business than a pastime. It mingles with all 
 the serious occupations of life. When war is to be pro- 
 claimed, it is done by means of a dance, in which they 
 express their resentment, and the plan of operations 
 which they design to follow ; and when an alliance is 
 concluded, or peace is restored, a movement of a simi- 
 lar kind, but corresponding to the change of circum- 
 stances, takes place. If a child is born or dies, if they 
 bewail the loss of a chief, or lament the. death of a 
 friend ; if any thing important and interesting has oc- 
 curred, the expression of their feelings is still the same. 
 All the dances of the Indians are of that kind which may 
 be styled descriptive.* They are intended to exhibit 
 some action, or series of actions, generally relating to 
 war ; and the imitation is often so close, and so happily 
 executed, that the most indifferent spectator can disco- 
 ver the intention of the performers. The following list 
 of the dances in use among the North Americans has 
 been given by Mr Long. See Travels, p. 55. 
 
 1. The calumet dance. 7. The prisoner's dance. 
 
 2. The war dance. 8. The return dance, 
 
 3. The chief's dance. 9. The spear dance. 
 
 4. The set out dance. 10. The marriage dance. 
 
 5. The scalp dance. 11. The sacrifice dance. 
 
 6. The dead dance. 
 
 Of all these, the war dance is the most remarkable, 
 and is frequently composed of several of the other dan- 
 ces. It is the exact image of an Indian campaign. It 
 represents the departure of the warriors, their arrival 
 at the confines of the hostile nations, their method of 
 encampment, the attack, the scalping of such as fall into 
 their hands, the return of the victorious tribe, and the 
 tortures and heroism of the prisoners. In performing 
 these parts, the savages exhibit a wonderful dexterity ; 
 and enter into them with such enthusiasm, that Euro- 
 pean spectators have forgotten for a moment that it was 
 only a representation, and have shuddered at the imagi- 
 nary scene. It does not appear that the dances of the 
 Indians are accompanied with any other music than an 
 
 * Dances of this kind were lately in use among the Highlanders of Scotland. See Boswell's Journal of a Tour, tJ'c. liiM Vr Johnson, 
 p. 083. cd. 4th.
 
 AMElllOA. 
 
 605 
 
 h-regular hoop ; though singing is frcquciil among them, 
 and musical inslrumonts arc not unknown. In most of 
 the exercises spccilicd above, tlie mules are the only per- 
 formers ; in some of them, however, the females are in- 
 troduced, but without altering in any degree the char- 
 acter of the movement; and there are othei's in which 
 the men take no part. The lascivious dances, so well 
 known in Persia and Turkey, and so frequently practi- 
 sed by the natives of Otaheite, arc not generally in use 
 among the savages of the western hemisphere. 
 
 All tlie American tribes arc addicted to drunkenness. 
 The most uncivilized inhabitants of the New World have 
 discovered the method of preparing liquors by which 
 the spirits are raised, and the mental functions disturbed. 
 In some provinces, an intoxicating beverage is procured 
 from the juice of the palm-tree ; {^Gumilla, in. 196.) but 
 the draught, most common among the Indians, is got 
 by an operation similar to that of bi'ewing- from maize, or 
 the root of the manioc, substances which they likewise 
 change into bread. In all transactions between the 
 North Americans, and the French or English, rum is 
 an essential requisite. The passion for strong liquors, 
 which, with a very few exceptions, distinguishes the 
 Indians from one extremity of the continent to the 
 other, must depend upon some cause, equally general in 
 its operation, with the practice to which it has given rise. 
 This cause we may discover in the iniiformity of the 
 savage life. For a great part of his time, the Indian is 
 destitute of employment. War, and the chace, indeed, 
 engage his attention at intervals, rouse his faculties to 
 their exercise, and render him bold and pcrscvcruig ; 
 but luiless when he finds himself in interesting situ- 
 ations, his life is a course of dulness, stupidity, and si- 
 lence. He- sits upon his mat with his body inclined, and 
 his head placed upon his knees ; and if he rises at any 
 time, it is only to stare about for a little, in search of a 
 retreat, where he may dose away his time without the 
 fear of interruptioji. But strong liquors awaken him 
 from his torpor ;.they give a quicker flow to his spirits, 
 and make his pulse beat with the firmness of active life. 
 The sensation of pleasure throbs through every limb ; 
 he continues to swallow the inebriating draught; rage 
 and riot succeed ; till at last, his senses are overpower- 
 ed, and he falls motionless to the ground. Many of the 
 Indian festivals are appointed for the express purpose of 
 drinking. On these occasions, which are anticipated 
 with anxiety, and welcomed with joy, the whole tribe as- 
 sembles ; a large quantity of chica is -pre pared, and all, 
 without exception, men, women, and children, warriors 
 of distinguished prowess, and elders who have numbered 
 many years, engage in the debauch, and prolong it for 
 several days. The usual consequences take place ; the 
 noise increases, every one is singing or talking, and 
 every one is in the right ; the tumult thickens, and the 
 festivity is seldorn concluded without fighting and blood- 
 shed. " The rum," says Mr Long, " being taken from 
 my house, was carried to the wigwam of the savages, 
 and they began to drink. The frolic lasted four days 
 and nights ; and notwithstanding all our precaution, 
 (securing the gims, knives, and tomahawks,) two boys 
 were killed, and six men wounded by the Indian wo- 
 men ; one of the chiefs was also murdered." — Voyages 
 and Travels in ATorth America, p. 56. See also Memoires 
 par Ulloa, torn. ii. p, 17. and Bancroft's .Vat. Hist, of 
 Guiana, p. 275. .These consequences are so generally 
 expected, that in some tribes, they endeavour to prevent 
 theiii, by observing a considerable degree of method in 
 
 their dcbauchci.. They do not all drink at the same 
 time, but one part of them takes care of the other while 
 intoxicated ; and these again watch over their brethren, 
 till their reason is restored to its exercise. 
 
 From causes similar to those which iiave led the Ame- 
 rican Indians to indulge in strong liquors, we may de- 
 duce their immoderate love of play. Games of chance 
 are frequent among the rude inhabitants of the western 
 continent. A strong inclination to these amusements 
 will always bo found to exist vvliere regular industry is 
 either not known, or not practised ; and it is because 
 they have little else to occupy their thoughts, that the 
 rich and the idle, in civilized countries, have recourse 
 to the pastimes which we are now considering, and de- 
 vote so much of their attention to them. Both the sa- 
 vage of America, and the polite European, feci the dif- 
 ficulty of spending their time with satisfaction ; and both 
 run with «agerness to those exercises which engage the 
 mind without fatiguing its powers. The Indians, so 
 phlegmatic and indifl'erent on other occasions, becojiic 
 interested, violent, and almost frantic with keenness, 
 when they engage in play. Like the ancient Germans, 
 they will stake their arms, their clothes, and even their 
 liberty, more valuable to them than any possession, on 
 a single throw of the dice. Travellers have observed 
 them retire from, the gaming taljlc, even in the coldest 
 regions, destitute of every thing which could protect 
 them from the inclemency of the weather. The spec- 
 tators appear to be equally interested and keen with 
 those who are principally concerned; and the practice 
 of betting is frequent. But among the savages of Ame- 
 rica, gaming is not an atnusement only, it is often per- 
 formed as a religious duty. For it happens not unfre- 
 quently, that when a tribe is wasted by pestilence or by 
 famine, the conjurors ordain a solemn match by play, as 
 a method effectual at once to propitiate the gods whom 
 they worship, and to Itop the progress of disease. 
 
 It is an observation of Leibnitz, that tlie human ge- 
 nius appears more early in the invention of games, than 
 in any other department whatever. To the truth of this 
 observation, the savages of America form no exception. 
 Their games are either sedentary or gymnastic. Of the 
 former kind, the list is very numerous; and in many of 
 the species, a wonderful degree of ingenuity is display- 
 ed. Among some tribes, whose improvement in other 
 respects may be considered as yet in embryo, the game 
 of chess has been long known and practised ; they are 
 not unacquainted with backgammon'; and entertain- 
 ments of a similar description, and to which the Euro- 
 peans are utter strangers, are common among them. 
 The gymnastic exercises arc different in the different 
 provinces. In some places the boys shoot their arrows 
 at a hoop as it runs, and pierce it with amazing dexteri- 
 ty; in others, the /leuco, and fia/ican, are the customary- 
 entertainments; the former of these representing the 
 siege of a fortress, or the sacking of a village ; and the 
 latter, a battle. See Long's Travels, p. 52. and Pinker- 
 ton's Geogralilnj, iii. 769. 
 
 It would be endless to mention all the customs which 
 distinguish the savage tribes of the New World, from 
 the inhabitants of the ancient continent, or from one 
 another. We must therefore refer the reader to the 
 books of travellers and missionaries, where his curiosity 
 will be amply gratified. There are, however, two cus- 
 toms which we cannot pass over, and of which it will be 
 proper to give a short account. 
 
 The first of these is of a peculiar and awful nature.
 
 GOO 
 
 A3iERICA. 
 
 In many provinces of the western hemisphere, the; In- 
 ■ilians rise, at certain fixed and hallowed times, through- 
 out all their villages, and prepare thenisclves lor n fes- 
 tival. It is with them an occasion of dreadful solem- 
 nity ; for the hour is come when they are to celebrate 
 the Feast of the Dead, the Feast of Souls. The graves 
 are opened, and each man of the tribe lifts from the 
 earth the body of his parent or his friend, often dropping 
 in putrefaciion, and carries it to the place where tlic 
 nation has been ordered to assemble. Here the corpses 
 arc exposed to view; the air is fdled with mournful 
 cries and sad bewailing; a dance is begun, now solemn 
 and slow, and now diversified by irregular movements ; 
 the performers cutting themselves with knives, and the 
 blood streaming from different parts of their bodies. A 
 fire is then kindled, the bones of the dead are burnt, 
 and their ashes, behig mingled with the drink of the 
 survivors, are swallowed with greediness and satisfac- 
 tion. This is the general way in which the Indians 
 celebrate the Feast of the Dead ; but in some provinces a 
 large pit is dug, and the carcasses, after being exposed 
 for a definite time, are buried in a common receptacle. 
 See Lafiiaii, ii. 444. 
 
 From what principle this extraordinary usage is de- 
 rived, those who have had opportunities of visiting the 
 American continent, have not informed us. It has been 
 ascribed to a peculiar warmth of attachment which the 
 Indians are supposed to have for their friends ; but that 
 feeling of independence which th. savages of the west- 
 ern hemisphere cherish as their greatest and notlest 
 honour, prevents them from yielding to the calls of be- 
 nevolence, and renders the union between man and man 
 exceedingly slight. An Indian can neither stoop to per- 
 form an action by which his fellows alone are benefited, 
 nor can he endure the weight of gratitude, for benefits 
 which are conferred upon himself. He lives attached 
 rather to his tribe, than to any one of its members. The 
 solemnity above mentioned ought therefore to be de- 
 duced from some other principle than the strength of 
 friendship among the natives of America. It is probably 
 connected with their religion ; but we are yet too little 
 acquainted with the varieties of superstition, existing 
 among the Indians, to say with accuracy, from what 
 part of their belief it takes its rise. 
 
 The second of the practices to which we referred is 
 equally uncommon, and bears an aspect of a different 
 kind. It seems, at first sight, to imply an extraordinary 
 degree of crueltji^owards those whom nature enjoins 
 us to respect and to solace. When the parents, or rela- 
 tions, of the American savages become old and oppress- 
 ed with infirmities, instead of cherishing and comforting 
 them, as humanity would requii-e, they put them to 
 death, in order to be relieved from the trouble of sup- 
 porting them.* They commit the same act of violence 
 as often as their friends are attacked by any disease, 
 which their partial knowledge of medicine renders 
 them unable to cure. This practice was general among 
 all the less cultivated tribes, from Hudson's Bay to the 
 Rio de la Plata, where these tribes were first visited by 
 the Europeans ; and however opposite it may be to the 
 natural feelings and attachments of man, the hard con- 
 dition of the savage life reconciles him to it. As a tribe 
 of hunters cannot rear many children, because they are 
 
 * It is not considered, that this practice is known 
 among the Indians of North America. Tench Coxe. 
 
 unable to provide for them ; so they cannot support any 
 individual who contributes nothing by his own exertions 
 to their maintenance and security. The old man is as 
 helpless and as useless as the child; the community arc 
 as unable to procure food for the one, as for the other. 
 The old men cannot endure the fatigues of war, or the 
 toils of the chase ; and they regard it as an act ot mercy 
 when their days are shortened by the hands of their 
 friends. The old Indian, of his free choice, places him- 
 self in the grave which he has ordered to be dug ; and 
 it is his son, or his nearest relative, that he invites to 
 pull the thong, or inflict the blow, which terminates his 
 existence. Cassani, Hist, dc la Prov. de Comji. df Jeaui 
 del JVucvo Reyno de Granada-, p. 300. Piso, p. 6. Gu- 
 milln, I. 333. 
 
 We have now considered the less civilized inhabitants 
 of the American continent, in respect of their minds ; 
 and have attended to those circumstances with regard 
 to them, in which ingenuity and contrivance, and, in ge- 
 neral, the mental qualities and dispositions, may be sup- 
 posed to have been exercised. We have viewed them 
 in their political state, their mode of warfare, in their 
 religious observances, and in their domestic condition; 
 we have turned our thoughts to the arts which were 
 known among thejii when they were discovered, to their 
 language, and to some remarkable customs, by which 
 they are distinguished from the natives of the ancient 
 world. Let us now proceed to consider the inhabitants 
 of the western continent, in relation to the appearance 
 and constitution of their bodies. 
 
 With the exception of one or two provinces in the 
 north, and a few individuals in the central regions, the 
 people of America are all of a light brown, or copper 
 colour. Little or no distinction of hue is to be observed 
 throughout the whole continent; and if a shade of dif- 
 ference prevails in any place, it is to be attributed rather 
 to the elevation or depression of the country or to some 
 other cause, than to its distance from the equator, or its 
 approach to it. The adventurers who first landed on 
 the parts of America which are situated between the 
 tropics, were astonished to find that there were no ne- 
 groes there. The inhabitants of the torrid zone, in the 
 New World, are of the same complexion with those 
 who occupy the more temperate regions. " The In- 
 dians," says Ulloa, " who live as far as forty degrees 
 and upwards, south or north of the equator, are not to 
 be distinguished, in point of colour, from those imme- 
 diately under it." One uniform tinge of red exists; and 
 has been thought to mark the natives of the western 
 continent, as the descendants of a peculiar race of men. 
 
 In the ancient world, the negroes are confined to the 
 torrid zone, and the regions adjacent to it. From this 
 it has been inferred, that the blackness of their colour 
 is to be ascribed to the intensity of the heat in the tro- 
 pical climates ; and the inference is warranted by the 
 consideration, that among the negroes themselves, the 
 palms of the hands, and those parts of the body which 
 ai-e less exposed to the action of the sun, are compara- 
 tively white. It is known, likewise, that the Europeans 
 become swarthy if they are constantly in the open air 
 during the months of summer; and that their com- 
 plexion undergoes a change, even by a short residence 
 in the West India islands. At the same time, there is 
 • reason to admit, that the heat of the sun is not the only 
 circumstance to which the difference of colour among 
 human beings is to be attributed; or that this great 
 cause is modified in its operation by others of an infe-
 
 AMEJilCA. 
 
 607 
 
 riijr and less active character. I'or il is asceriaincd, 
 tliat the people of Lapland, who inhabit a very northerly 
 part of Europe, are by no means so fair as the natives 
 of Great Britain, an island which lies comparatively to 
 the south; and that tlic Tartars are ol a darker colour 
 than the inhabitants of Europe, under the same parallels 
 of latitude. What the circumstances arc, which modify 
 the heat in producing the diil'ercnccs of complexion, it 
 is not easy to say ; it is uncertain, from the facts which 
 have been mentioned, that such modifying circumstances 
 do exist. Let us now put the two questions, in order to 
 answer which, these observations have been introduced. 
 First, How is it, that in America there are no negroes 
 in the torrid zone ? and, secondly. How is it, that tlie red 
 colour prevails unabated throughout almost all the in- 
 habitants of the western continent ? — To the first of 
 these questions, it may be answered, that America is 
 destitute of negroes, because there the heat of the torrid 
 zone, if not less, is more unequally distributed than it is 
 in Africa: and, therefore, the same effect could not be 
 produced in both regions of the world in the same de- 
 gree. And as to the other question, it may be answered, 
 that the red colour is preserved in the higher latitudes 
 of the New World by the state of society, which is uni- 
 form among the rude natives of America, or by some of 
 the modifying circumstances which we know to exist, 
 but which we cannot easily point out. 
 
 When it is said, that the Indians are of one uni- 
 form red colour, this must be understood with some 
 exceptions. The Esquimaux, who inhabit the most 
 northerly region of America, and who, though a wretched 
 people, distinguish themselves by the name of Kerabit, 
 or Alen, are of a lighter hue, and approach, in their 
 complexion, to that of the Greenlanders, from whom 
 their origin is unquestionably to be derived. In the 
 Isthmus of Darien, there are men to be found entirely 
 white, and separated from the other natives of the wes- 
 tern hemisphere by many qualities peculiar to them- 
 selves. (Wafer, Dcscrifi. of Isth. ap. Dampier, iii. p. 
 346.) Their skin is covered with a down of a milky 
 hue, but without the ruddy look which gives so much 
 beauty to the European complexion. The hair of their 
 heads, their eye-brows and eye-lashes, are of the same 
 chalky colour. Their eyes are so weak, that they can- 
 not endure the light of the sun ; but they see well by 
 moon-light, and are active and playful in the night. 
 Notwithstanding these peculiarities, however, they are 
 not to be regarded as a distinct species, but resemble 
 those individuals in Africa, who are called Albinos by 
 the Portuguese, and are of a white colour, in the midst 
 of a people whose complexion is black. They do not 
 propagate their kind : and the parents, both of the 
 whites in the Isthmus of Darien, and of the Albinos in 
 Africa, have the same colour and the same tempera- 
 ment with the other inhabitants of their respective coun- 
 tries. Their peculiar hue is to be considered as the 
 effect of some disease in their parents or in themselves, 
 rather than as a circumstance which characterizes them 
 as a separate race. See Albino. 
 
 It is particularly deserving of notice, that among the 
 rude natives of America, there is not an individual to be 
 seen who is lame or deformed ; or at least who is known 
 to have been so from his infancy. This was at first 
 ascribed to the ease with which the Indian women pro- 
 duce their children : and it was supposed that nature, 
 when unrestrained and free in her operations, accom- 
 plished her work in the most regular and perfect man- 
 
 ner. It is allowed that the Indian women bring forth 
 their children with great ease. Historians relate, that, 
 before the arrival of the Spaniards, they had never 
 heard of midwives at Pci-u. But though something 
 may be ascribed to this circumstance, the great cause 
 of the perfect formation which was observed among 
 the savages of America, is, that they expose, or put to 
 death, such of their children as are weak, or deformed 
 in their bodily configuration. The same practice existed 
 among the Lacedxnionians of ancient times, and for 
 reasons which are nearly the same. A child, whose 
 organization is feeble or defective, cannot support itself 
 when it is grown, by fishing or hunting. It is an in- 
 cumbrance, rather than an advantage, to the conmiunity. 
 'I'his is foreseen by the natives of America ; and, in 
 order to prevent it, they destroy all those, in their infancy, 
 whose form renders them incapable of exertion. Hence 
 none are permitted to live, but such as are duly propor- 
 tioned : and hence the perfection of bodily structure, 
 which appeared so wonderful to the first settlers in the 
 continent of America. 
 
 The whole race of Indians is distinguished by a 
 peculiar thickness of the skin. Anatomists have ex- 
 amined it, and found it so. This is a quality which is 
 natural to the people of America ; though it may be 
 ascribed, in some degree, to the practice of besmearing 
 themselves with ointments and paint; a practice, which, 
 as we have mentioned already, is general in every quar- 
 ter of the New World. From this thickness of the skin, 
 the small-pox, one of the most desolating of the eruptive 
 diseases, was particularly fatal to the inhabitants of 
 America, when it was introduced among them by the 
 Europeans. The morbific matter escaped with difficulty, 
 because the pustules were not easily formed ; and thou- 
 sands of the Indians perished under the ravages of that 
 wasting disorder. 
 
 Another pecvdiarity ot the American Indians is, that 
 they have no beards, and no hair on any part of the 
 body, except the head. The want of those tokens, 
 which indicate a manly firmness of constitution, was 
 given as an evidence by the Spaniards, that the inhabi- 
 tants of the New World were of a different species 
 from those of the Old ; that they were beneath the level 
 of human nature, and ought to be treated in the same 
 manner with the brutes. To this idea, the debility of 
 frame, which marked the natives of the islands first 
 visited by the Europeans, contributed tot a little, as well 
 as their astonishing ignorance of the most common arts 
 and inventions, and their total want of curiosity. Ac- 
 cordingly, in the famous bull, promulgated by Paul III. 
 in 15S6, it was stated, that though the settlers in 
 America had regarded the natives uti bruta ariimalia, 
 they were to be considered as real men : and, in the 
 same mandate of the pope, they were declared to be 
 capable of receiving the doctrines, and enjoying the 
 advantages of the Christian faith. A more intimate 
 acquaintance with the New World has taught us, that 
 the Indians are not beardless by nature ; but that it is 
 their constant practice to pull out the hairs by the roots 
 as soon as they appear. The instrimient which is used 
 for this purpose is a split stick, between the columns of 
 which the hairs are introduced, and eradicated by foixe. 
 {Maifazi?! de Gotlingue, tom. i. vi. ; ct C'cnien. p. 262.) 
 Nor are all the inhabitants of the western continent des- 
 titvite of beards. The hair on the chins of the Esquimaux 
 is long and bushy ; and this circumstance, as well as 
 their language and manners, points them out as a race
 
 COS 
 
 A3IK111CA. 
 
 ol'mcii, toUiUy (lislincl from the other natives of tliat 
 qULirtcr of the globe. 
 
 The oi-iliiiary stature of the Americans is not very 
 (lifVercnt from that of the Europeans. But whether it 
 arises from their inactive life, or from some constitu- 
 tional tendency, ihey are more plump and full than the 
 natives of the opposite hemisphere. The Esquimaux,, 
 however, a people who must be excepted from every 
 ijeneral statement with regard to America, do not rise 
 above the height of four feet, and are of a peculiar 
 make ; and if we give credit to the reports of traveders, 
 the southern regions of the New World are inhabited 
 by tlie Patagonians, or Puelches ; a class of men, of a 
 gigantic stature, and of a most formidable appearance. 
 They were first observed by Magellan, as he approached 
 the straits which liear his name ; and the first accounts 
 of them were given by his officers and sailors, when 
 they arrived in Europe. But those who, in later times, 
 have visited the regions of South America, have not 
 confirmed die relation of the people who accompanied 
 that navigator ; and have declared, that these regions 
 are inhabited by men not differing in any surpri^ng de- 
 gree from the rest of the American tribes. If we reason 
 from analogy, we should certainly not expect to find a 
 race of giants in the coldest climate which modern dis- 
 covery has brought to our knowledge. It is in the mild- 
 er latitudes that the human species acquires its highest 
 honours, and rises nearest to perfection. Tall men are 
 perhaps to be found among the inhabitants of South 
 America, as tall men arc to be found everywhere ; but 
 in the language of Uobrizhoffer, the missionary, " Ale 
 suasore Patagonex pro gig'anri/jiiSjdesinas habere." — His- 
 toria de Jbi/ioriibus, vol. ii. p. 15, Sec. Echavarri, an au- 
 thor ol great credit, says, that the Indians of South 
 America are nearly of the same stature with the Spa- 
 niards. Rcyno Jesuiiico, p. 238. See Patagonia. 
 
 The reader, who wishes for more accurate informa- 
 tion concerning the Patagonians, may consult the Re- 
 ckerches P/tiloso/ihiijiies, par M. de Puaw, vol. i. 281, and 
 vol. iii. 181, kc, where the testimonies of different 
 travellers are collected and stated with considerable 
 precision. See also Phil. Trans, vol. Ivii. p. 78, and vol. 
 Ix. p. 22. Bougainville, Voyag. 129. Falkener, Descrip, 
 of Patagonia, Introd. p. 26j and p. 102. 
 
 After these general observations on the American 
 Indians, as to the constitution of their bodies, it may be 
 proper to introdjlce some account of their aspect and 
 features. They are thus described by the Chevalier 
 Pinto. "Those who live in the high country, are fairer 
 than those in the marshy lands on the coast. Their 
 face is round ; farther removed, perhaps, than that of 
 any people from an oval shape. Their forehead is small ; 
 the extremity of their ears far from the face ; their lips 
 thick ; their noses flat ; their eyes black, or of a chesnut 
 colour, small, but capable of discerning objects at a 
 great distance. Their hair is always thick, and sleek, 
 and without any tendency to curl. At the first aspect, a 
 South American appears to be mild and innocent ; but 
 on a more attentive view, one discovers in his counte- 
 nance something wild, distrustful, and sullen." 
 
 We may now inquire from what part of the Ancient 
 World Ainerica was first peopled. 
 
 This enquiry is attended with many difficulties ; 
 though the number of these has been increased without 
 necessity by the authors who have discussed this sub- 
 ject, ancl who have, perhaps, been more willing to state 
 their difficulties than to resolve ihcni. Thus, for exam- 
 
 ple, it has been considered as utterly improbable, tliat 
 one hemisphere of our planet should have been destitute 
 of inhabitants, while the other was peopled. But, when 
 this objection is urged, it is forgotten, that if we sup- 
 pose all mankind to be derived from one pair, originally 
 settled in a particular quarter of the Old World, the 
 otiier regions of the ancient continent nmst have been 
 destitute of inhabittants, till the primitive race had 
 multiplied to such a degree, as to have it in their power 
 to occupy those regions. It is not, however, to be 
 denied, that the investigation, which we are about to 
 undertake, is encompassed with difficulties ; some of 
 these we sliail mention afterwards, and shall state 
 likewise what wc have found in authors, and what 
 occurs to ourselves, in order to obviate or surmount 
 them. 
 
 We regard it as true, that the whole human race is 
 sprung from a single pair. For this we have the un- 
 questionable authority of revelation ; which declares, 
 that Adam and Eve were the first progenitors of our 
 species ; that they occupied a part of Asia near the 
 nver Euphrates ; and that their descendants were 
 miraculously separated from one another, and scattered 
 over the earth. As they separated, they formed them- 
 selves into distinct communities, which gradually in- 
 creased into nations; and from one or more of which it 
 is believed that the New World was peopled. We 
 are not ignorant of the opinion which Lord Kames has 
 maintained on this subject. {Sketches of Alan, vol. i.) 
 He contends tliat it is impossible to account for the dif- 
 ferences, which we know to exist among human beings, 
 with regard to their form, their colour, and their man- 
 ners ; unless we admit, that the various races are the 
 specific descendants, each of a single pair, whose 
 elementary characters it still preserves. Thus, according 
 to him, the negroes of Africa must have descended from 
 parents who were originally black ; the inhabitants of 
 France and of Great Britain, from parents who were 
 originally white ; and tlie Indians of America, from 
 parents who were originally of a copper colour, or red. 
 To this it may be replied, 1. That the form, colour, and 
 dispositions of men, are influenced by the climate under 
 which they live, by their local situation, and by moral 
 and political causes ; so that no inference against the 
 common opinion can be drawn from these circum- 
 stances. The Jews are undoubtedly of one race, and 
 that race has been kept distinct and pure ; yet they are 
 of all complexions ; fair in Britain and Germany, brown 
 in Spain and Portugal, olive in Syria and Chaldea, and 
 copper-coloured in Arabia and Egypt. (Buffon, A'at. 
 Hist. vol. iii.) The descendants of the Spaniards in 
 South America have already the same tinge with the 
 aboriginal inhabitants. {Phil. Trans. No. 476.) The 
 people of the United States, though sprung from many 
 different nations of Europe, have an uniform cast of fea- 
 tures and shade of complexion ; and the negroes, in 
 many parts of the sjxne country, though intermarrying 
 with one another, are losing the dark hue and curled 
 hair of their African progenitors* (Smith on the Causes 
 of Comfilexion and Figure of the Human S/iecies, fias- 
 sim.) 2. That we are not acquainted with every cause 
 which may affect the human appearance, nor can we 
 ascertain the Hmits within which the operation of any 
 
 * This will not he considered a correct view of tbc 
 subject by many. Tench Coxe.
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 eao 
 
 single cause is to be confined. 3. That it is a principle 
 in sound pliilosophy, never to introduce a supernatural 
 power to account for any effect, when wc arc able to 
 account for it by causes which arc natural, and within 
 our view. There is no propriety in supposing, that the 
 omnipotence of the Deity was exercised in creating 
 many pairs, of different characters, yet all of the same 
 species, m order to shew how America was peopled, if 
 we can establish a connection between the Old World 
 and the New, so as to admit of a passage from the one 
 to the other. 4. That although we should suppose as 
 many pairs and as many races as any philosopher would 
 require, still there are differences of families and of 
 individuals to be found in any single race which may be 
 chosen for the purpose of examination. One family is 
 distinguished by a peculiar set of features, and another 
 family ^by another set ; one man is tall, and another 
 man is short ; one is active and bold, and another sloth- 
 ful and cowardly. And surely, if there be differences 
 of families and of individual* in a single race, deriving 
 its origin from one pair, there is no reason why we 
 should not conclude, that there may be diffei'ences 
 among the races themselves, though all of them are 
 sprung from a common source. Lastly, That even, if 
 we could not account for the varieties among the people 
 who inhabit the earth, by the operation of natural causes, 
 it would by no means follow, that the differwit races 
 were sprung from different pairs ; we could only infer, 
 that philosophers have not yet succeeded in accounting 
 for the varieties among the people that inhabit the earth, 
 by the operation of natural causes. 
 
 In prosecuting the enquiry which we have underta- 
 ken, it is necessary to determine at what points the con- 
 tinent of America approaches nearest to Europe or to 
 Asia, or to both of these divisions of the globe. For- 
 tunately the discoveries of modern times enable us to 
 ascertain this matter with considerable precision. It is 
 now very generally admitted, that Greenland is a part 
 of the American continent, or at least that it is separated 
 from it by a very narrow strait. Here then is one way 
 in which the inhabitants of the Old World may have 
 reached the New, and have settled there. But in stating 
 it as likely, that the northern regions of America were 
 peopled by emigration from the coast of Greenland, or 
 from Iceland, we are not left to supposition alone. There 
 are facts which render it not only probable, but as nearly 
 certain as any matter which depends for its truth on the 
 evidence of history, and the reasoning from analogies 
 which are obvious and close. The Esquimaux, of whom 
 we have spoken so frequently, inhabiting a part of North 
 America which stretches from Labrador towards the 
 pole, resemble the Greenlanders, in their form, their 
 manners, and in almost every other respect. And what 
 puts the question beyond all doubt is, that the language 
 of both countries is the same. A missionary, who had 
 passed from Greenland to the American shore, found, 
 that the language of the Greenlanders was perfectly 
 understood by the Esquimaux, who received him as a 
 brother and a friend. In addition to all this, the lower 
 animaU, in the north of Europe, are the same with those 
 which belong to the northern provinces of America. 
 The wolf, the bear, the fox, the elk, the deer, and the 
 roebuck, are to be found in the contiguous regions both 
 of the Old World and of the New ; and this circumstance 
 gives additional firmness to the belief, that the one con- 
 tinent was peopled by emigration from the other. 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 The tribes which inhabited the north <->! Europe in 
 early times, were remarkable for their adventurous and 
 roving spirit. Having increased their numbers, so as to 
 press hard on the limits of the sustenance which their 
 country was able to afl'ord them, and having multiplied 
 so rapidly as to be in danger of perishing through fa- 
 mine, they were constrained to send oH' their redundant 
 population in quest of new regions, and in order to form 
 new settlements. It is probable, that, at a period to which 
 history does not reach, some of these tribes emigrated 
 from the higher latitudes of Norway ; and that, passing 
 to Iceland and to Greenland in successive adventures, 
 they established themselves in the continent of America. 
 We are sure, at least, that so early as the year 9S2, 
 Greenland was visited by the Norwegians, and that in 
 the year 1003, they planted a colony either in Labrador 
 or Newfoundland. This colony was soon destroyed by 
 intestine quarrels. (Pinkcrton's Geug. vol. iii. p. 3. Mem. 
 par UUoa, tom. ii. p. 478.) But the emigration, or suc- 
 cessive emigrations, which gave inhabitants to the north- 
 ern part of America, took place, in all probability, at a 
 time earlier than either of the dates which have been 
 mentioned ; though the limited progress which the In- 
 dians have made in the arts, and their total ignorance 
 of sc-ience, have induced some to believe, that they 
 had not existed very long in the country which they 
 possess. 
 
 But the continent of America approaches that of Asia, 
 as well as that of Europe. This has not been known 
 with certainty till of late years. It is true, that when 
 the extent of North America from east to west came to 
 be ascertained with any reasonable precision, men of 
 learning, who thought of this subject, inferred at once, 
 that that division of the New World could be at no great 
 distance from the north-eastern extremity of Asia. From 
 the discoveries of the Russians, under the auspices of 
 the czar Peter and the empress Catharine II., it appears, 
 that the two continents are not separated by any great 
 interval from one another. And it is rendered com- 
 pletely certain, by the voyages of Cooke, the English 
 navigator, and his successor Clarke, that the strait which 
 divides the Old World from the New is not much wider 
 than the narrow sea between Dover and Calais. Nor is 
 this all; there are islands in the strait of Bchring it- 
 self, which would render easy the communication be- 
 tween Asia and America. From the islands botii the 
 continents may be seen at the same time. It cannot be 
 doubted, therefore, that the inhabitants of the north-eas- 
 tern parts of Asia, little attached to the soil, and sub- 
 sisting chiefly by hunting and fishing, might pass, ei- 
 ther in their canoes in summer, or upon the ice in win- 
 ter, from their own country to the American shore. Or 
 a passage of this kind might not be necessary. It is by 
 no means unlikely, that the strait of Behring was for- 
 merly occupied by the land ; and that the isthmus, which 
 joined the Old World to the New, was subverted and 
 overwhelmed by one of those great revolutions of nature 
 which shake whole continents, and extend the dominion 
 of the sea to places where its waters are unknown. This 
 is not a mere conjecture ; there are islands mentioned by 
 Julius Caesar, as existing in the English channel, which 
 are to be seen no more. Naples was at one time united 
 to Sicily, and Euboea to Boeolia. It is certain, (says 
 Buftbn,) that in Ceylon, the land has lost about thirty or 
 forty leagues, which the sea has takon from it. The 
 islands to be found in the strait, which separates Ame- 
 4H
 
 (J 10 
 
 AMEUICA. 
 
 lica from Asia, arc probabJy the luounuins and the 
 elevated country belonging to the isthmus, which we 
 suppose to have been sliattered by an earthcjuake, and 
 sunk under the level of the ocean. If this was the case, 
 if an isthmus uniting the two continents did exist, there 
 cannot be the shadow of a difficulty in adniilling, that 
 the New World may have been peopled by emigration 
 from the Old. 
 
 That the inhabitants of Asia did pass from the one 
 continent to the other, is rendered extremely probable, 
 by tlie following considerations. 
 
 1. At the time when the interior of America was 
 visited by Cortes and the Spanisli adventurers, a tradi- 
 tion prevailed among the people of Mexico, the mo>t 
 enlightened of tlie American nations, that their ances- 
 tors had migrated from the north, and had ultimately 
 settled in tlie ngions which they occupied at that time. 
 2. Of the twcnly-hve species of animals inhabiting the 
 land, which Mr Pennant has enumerated as belonging to 
 Kamschalka, seventeen are to be found in America. 
 And, lastly, from the resemblances which we can trace 
 between the uncivilized natives of Asia and those of the 
 American continent, it is as probable as any matter of the 
 same description can be, that a communication has taken 
 place between the Old World and the New, by the route 
 which we have mentioned above. Some of these resem- 
 blances it may be proper to state. The custom of scalp- 
 ing their enemies prevailed among the Scythians, and is 
 continued in Ameiica to the present day. A particular 
 \ace of the same people were denominated Anthropo- 
 pliagi, from their practice of eating human flesh; a 
 practice which was so common among the Indians, as to 
 give a tinge and complexion to their language, in coun- 
 tries where it no longer exists. The Kamschatkans 
 never marched in an aggregated body, but in a line of 
 individual warriors; and the same custom is observed 
 exactly by the American tribes. The Tungusi, a nation 
 resident in Siberia, prick their faces with a needle in 
 various shapes, and fill up the punctures with charcoal; 
 a practice which still exists in many parts of the New 
 World. The canoes of the Tungiisi and those of the 
 Canadians resemble one another; they are light, and 
 made of the bark of trees ; the paddles of the former 
 nation are broad at each end, and those of the people 
 near Cooke's River arc of a similar form. It would be 
 endless and impossible to mention all the circumstances 
 of resemblance between the natives of Asia and those 
 of America; but, from the coincidences which have 
 been stated, there is little reason to doubt, that the latter 
 country derived its inhabitants (the Esquimaux except- 
 ed) from the former. And this opinion must be consi- 
 dered as probable, whatever the difficulties attending 
 the sidiject may be. 
 
 The difficulties to which we allude relate particularly 
 to the migration of the lower animals from the Old 
 World to the New. For there are animals in the ancient 
 '■ontincnt which are not to be found in America ; and 
 there are animals in America, which are not to be found 
 in the ancient continent. 
 
 With regard to the first of these statements, the solu- 
 tion of the difficulty is neither remote nor intricate. It 
 is not contended, that all the species of animals migrated 
 from the Old World to the New. Many kinds may have 
 been left in their original situations; prevented by cli- 
 mate, and by other natural and accidental causes, from 
 changing the places to which they had become fami- 
 
 liarized. But the difficulty contained in the second part 
 of the statement is not so easily resolved. For it is 
 plain, that no animal could pass from the Old World to 
 the New, unless it had previously existed in the Old 
 World ; but there are animals to be found in America^ 
 which exist in no part either of Europe, Africa, or Asia, 
 with which we are acquainted. The difficulty, therefore, 
 is prominent and conspicuous. 
 
 In order to obviate it in some degree, let it be observ- 
 ed, first, that many animals belonging to the New World, 
 which have been thought to form a species of them- 
 selves, are the same animals with those of the ancient 
 continent, in an altered and degenerated state. Thus, 
 for example, the lion and the tiger of America, are the 
 same with the lion and the tiger of the eastern hemis- 
 phere ; though, from the difference of situations, they 
 are less ravenoits and fierce. That animals suffer great 
 changes by the operation of climate, is evident from this ; 
 that the dogs, which are sent from Europe to North 
 America, alter their colour, without an exception, as 
 the winter approaches, and recover it again during the 
 summer. And, if our enquiries were sufficiently mi- 
 nute and accurate, we should probably find that more 
 important revolutions take place in their nature and ha- 
 bits. It is worthy of notice likewise, that the same spe- 
 cies may be produced in endless varieties by crossing 
 the breed ; and that some of these varieties may have 
 been regarded, by careless observers, as a new species. 
 Secondly, that some species may have become extinct 
 in the Old World, as there is reason to believe, one spe- 
 cies, at least, has become extinct in the New. When we 
 say that there were animals once alive on the continent 
 of America, which do not exist there at present, we 
 allude to the large bones which have been found on the 
 banks of the Ohio, in North America, and which must 
 have belonged to creatures of a size far greater than 
 any which have yet been discovered in the eastern he- 
 misphere. The molar tooth, in the possession of the 
 Abbe Chappe, who died not long ago in California, 
 weighed no fewer than eight pounds: and M. Alzate 
 affirms, that at Mexico, there is preserved a bone of 
 the leg, the knob of which is a foot in diameter. The 
 late Mr Hunter of London, who was well acquainted 
 with comparative anatomy, gave it as his opinion, that 
 the bones to which we allude must have belonged to a 
 carnivorous animal; {Phil. Trans- 1768,) the appearan- 
 ces, however, on which this opinion was founded, were 
 not very distinct, and the opinion itself may, perhaps, 
 be considered as doubtful. At any rate they must have 
 belonged to an animal of great size, which does not at 
 present exist on the American continent. The species 
 has become extinct. And if a species of animals has 
 become extinct in America, why may we not suppose 
 that one or more species may have become extinct in 
 Asia, Africa, or Europe ? This supposition is not un- 
 supported by facts. Bones of an immense size have 
 been found in different parts of the Russian empire, and 
 in provinces where the elephant or hippopotamus could 
 not exist. These are animals of warm climates. But 
 the organic remains to which we refer, have been disco- 
 vered in the Arctic regions of Asia. Near the mouth of 
 the Lena, M. Adams of Petersburgh found a whole 
 mammoth, bones and muscles, in the year 1 806. It was 
 imbedded in ice, and surrounded with it, like flies in 
 amber. The animal itself appears to have been about 
 nine feet in height; and, what is almost incredible, its
 
 Ax^IEIIlCA. 
 
 611 
 
 two bonis weighed 4001b. Its skclcion is now to be 
 seen at Peieisburgh. Julius Caesar describes several 
 animals belonging to Gaul, with which naturalists of 
 modern times are wholly unacquainted. [Dc Brtl. Gall. 
 b. vi. c. 25.) And though the remark is not sufliciently 
 general in its apijlication, yet it deserves to be attended 
 to, that not a single wolf exists at present iu Great Bri- 
 tain, where they formerly abounded in such numbers, 
 that it was one of the chief occupations of the British 
 pi'inccs, to hunt and destroy them. Their very names 
 were often derived from their skill in that exercise. 
 Thirdly, we are not acquainted with all the animals of 
 the ancient continent, as is justly observed by Clavigero 
 {^Hitit. of Mexico, vol. ii. diss. 1.) The interior of Africa, 
 and a great part of Asia, are yet unexplored : and no 
 one can tell what species may exist in those regions, and 
 how many diflcrent kinds there may be. This can be 
 ascertained by examination alone ; and till that exami- 
 nation has taken place, we can draw no inference against 
 the common opinion with regard to the peopling of 
 America, from the fact, that there are animals in that 
 continent which we do not yet know to exist, or to have 
 existed, in Europe, Asia, or Africa. 
 ' But a difficulty yet remains. For tliough we regard 
 it as probable, that the animals of one continent have 
 removed to the other by the Arctic passages, and allow, 
 that this supposition has been freed from any objection 
 of much force, it is evident that the animals of the 
 northern latitudes only could reach America in the way 
 to which we allude. But it is certain, that there are 
 animals of warm climates, as the lion, the tiger, and the 
 alligator, to be found in the New World ; and as those 
 could not pass, either by the north of Europe, or of 
 Asia, because (say the objectors) they could not live 
 there ; it is obvious, if we adhere to the principle that 
 the animals of the New World came originally from the 
 Old, we must account for their migration by some other 
 route than those which have yet been mefeioned. The 
 equinoctial animals, it is said, could pass only by a com- 
 ^mnication in the regions of the torrid zone: or, at least, 
 in those regions where the heat is considerable during 
 a great part of the year, and where the general tempe- 
 rature is moderate. 
 
 In order to obviate the difficulty which has now been 
 stated, it deserves to be remarked, that there are very 
 few animals of tlie torrid zone to be found in America. 
 This is so much the case, that Buffon has absolutely 
 denied, that any quadruped habituated to a warm cli- 
 mate in the Old World exists hi the New : but tlie asser- 
 tion of that distinguished naturalist has not, in this in- 
 stance, a sufficient support from an unbiassed view of 
 animated nature, as^it appears on the American conti- 
 nent. It is unquestionable, however, that the number 
 of animals belonging to the jjamier climates in the New 
 World is exceedingly small. Only a few species are to 
 be found there : of course, only a few species have pass- 
 ed fi'om the eastern to the western hemisphere. Now, 
 though it is certain that the animals of the torrid zone 
 are peculiar to that region of the earth, and those which 
 are contiguous to it; yet it is equally certain, that these 
 animals can exist in the more northern latitudes. The 
 
 inferior creatures, as well as man, arc capable of ac- 
 commodating themselves to almost every i:limate. If, 
 therefore, any cause has driven a tew species towards 
 the north of Asia, and continued to operate for any 
 length of time, or has been succeeded by other causes, 
 detaining them in the latter situation, they may gradually 
 have been accustomed to the less hospital)lc regions ; 
 and, at length may have passed from Kamschatka to 
 the American share, undergoing, either in their pas- 
 sage in their way to it, or alter it had taken place, some 
 of the changes, to which we know, from their appear- 
 ance in the Western World, they have been subjected. 
 If any of the individuals remained for a while in the 
 northern latitudes, they may either have perished from 
 accidental circumstances, or have been destroyed by the 
 inhabitants of those regions; their numbers being small, 
 and their physical strength diminished by the influence 
 of the climate. 
 
 There is more ground for this supposition than ap- 
 pears at first view. It. is extremely probable, that such 
 causes as we have mentioned really operated, and gave 
 rise to the effects which we have ascribed to them. 
 We know that the pojiulation of the ancient continent 
 advanced from the equatorial regions towards the high- 
 er latitudes, and especially towards the north. If this 
 be allowed, it is not unreasonable to admit, that, in the 
 progress and multiplication of human beings, some 
 animals of the torrid zope may have been driven before 
 them from their early and more favoiu'able abodes; thar 
 these animals may have reached the Asiatic shore, 
 which is nearest to America, passed over to that conti- 
 nent, and at length found there a region suited to their 
 natures, where they continued to live, and where they 
 exist at the present day. Those of them which re- 
 mained in the northern latitudes of Asia and America, 
 enfeebled by the climate, may have been destroyed by 
 the same cause which forced them thither — the increase 
 and progress of the human species. Hence it is, that 
 their original abodes in the eastern hemisphere, and 
 their corresponding haunts in the western, where they 
 have preserved or partially regained their physical 
 strength, are the only regions in which they are to be 
 found at present, because in these regions alone they 
 have been able to resist the approaches and the art of 
 man. 
 
 If what has been said is not reckoned sufficient to ob- 
 viate the difficulty which we have stated, there remains 
 no other solution, as it appears to us, than that the con- 
 tinent of Asia was formerly united to the W^estern World, 
 in the more southern latitudes ; and that the innumera- 
 ble islands in the Pacific Ocean are the higher parts of 
 the land, which completed, above water, the connectioii 
 between the Old World, and the New. Or, if this hy- 
 pothesis likewise is exceptionable, we must suppose 
 that the peninsula of Africa was joined to the eastern 
 hemisphere, in ages unknown to research: and that the 
 islands of St Matthew, St Thomas, and St Helena, toge- 
 ther with the Canaries, the Cape Verd islands, and 
 those of the West Indies, are the remains of the union 
 which once existed between the continents on the oppo- 
 site sides of the Atlantic. (/;) 
 4 H 2
 
 G12 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 AMERICAN UNITED STATES. 
 
 The united STATES of AMERICA, are a great 
 division of Nortli America, bounded on the east by the 
 Atlantic Ocean ; on the v est by the Mississippi, the 
 mountains of Namki, and Rio Bravo ; on the north and 
 north-east by the lakes of Canada; and on the south by 
 the Spanish dominion of East Florida and the Gulf of 
 Mexico. These states, including Louisiana, are 17 in 
 number. In the following Table, their names, and the 
 population of each state, estimated by the census of 
 1810, are exhibited. 
 
 States. Popvilalion. 
 
 Virginia 966,079 
 
 New York 959,220 
 
 Pennsylvania 810,163 
 
 Massachusetts (proper) . , . ^^ . 472,040? _.„, _., 
 
 Maine IP . 229,705 5 ^"'^^ 
 
 North Carolina 563,526 
 
 South Carolina 414,935 
 
 Kentucky , 406,5 1 1 
 
 Maryland 380,546 
 
 Connecticut . 261,042 
 
 T, ^West 160,360) ^,,, _„_ 
 
 Tennessee ^^^^^ ....[.. ioi;367r«-'^27 
 
 Georgia 252,433 
 
 New Jersey 245,562 
 
 Ohio 230,760 
 
 Vermont 217,913 
 
 New Hampshire 214,414 
 
 Rhode IslaiKi 76,931 
 
 Delaware 72,674 
 
 Territorial Govermnents. 
 
 Orleans 76,556 
 
 Mississippi 40,352 
 
 Indiana 24,520 
 
 Columbia (the Federal District) 24,023 
 
 Louisiana 20,845 
 
 Illinois 12,282 
 
 Michigan 4,762 
 
 Total 7,237,521 
 
 The chief rivers of the United States, are, Hudson's 
 river, the Delaware, Susquehanna, Potowmac, Savannah, 
 Ohio, Kentucky river, Cumberland, Illinois, and Missis- 
 sippi; its moimtains, are, the Allegany, or -Appalachian; 
 its bays, those of the Chesapeake and Delaware ; and its 
 capes, Ann, May, Cod, James, Charles, Henry, Hatteras, 
 Lookout, and Fear. 
 
 The country, now possessed by the people of the 
 United States, was originally occupied by different 
 tribes of Indians, which have either Ijeen extirpated by 
 wars among themselves, or with the new settlers, or 
 have been driven to the remote forests, by the encroach- 
 ments of the Europeans. Of these Indians, the Pequods, 
 the Naragansets, (this tribe could muster 2000 fight- 
 ing men in 1675,) the Womponoags, the Delawares, 
 the Susquehannoes, (destroyed by the Five Nations.) 
 the Powhatans, (containing 8000 souls in 1807,) the 
 Chowannoes, the Nottoways, the Corees, and the Tus- 
 caroras, were the most distinguished and best known. 
 The Catawbas, Creeks, and the Cherokees, still re- 
 tain their names, and ^ portion of their ancient territories. 
 
 The English were the first who visited and planted 
 colonies in North America. In the year 1497, Giovanni 
 Gaboto, a Venetian, called by the English John Cabot, 
 acting under a commission from Henry VII., discover- 
 ed Newfoundland, and inspected a considerable portion 
 of the American shore : and in the year 1578, sir Hum- 
 phrey Gilbert of Devonshire obtained a commission 
 from Elizabeth to establish a colony in North America; 
 but approaching the land too far towards the north, he 
 was deterred from the execution of his purpose by the 
 unfavourable appearance of the country. A patent, 
 similar to that of Gilbert, was granted to sir Walter' 
 Raleigh in the year 1584. He despatched two small 
 vessels, which approached the American shore by the 
 gulf of Florida ; and, sailing northwards, touched at the 
 island of Ocakoke, in the inlet in Pamplico Sound. 
 They afterwards proceeded to Roanoke, near the mouth 
 of Albemarle Sound, and here the adventurers carried 
 on a profitable traffic with the natives. The ships then 
 returned to England, and the country which they had 
 visited was called by Elizabeth, Virginia. These at- 
 tempts were made to settle in the island of Roanoke, in 
 consequence of Raleigh's exertions ; but no colony was 
 as yet established. At length, James VI. having divi- 
 ded that part of America, which extends from lat. 34° 
 to 45" N. into two great portions ; the one called the first 
 or South colony of Virginia; and the other, the second 
 or North colony ; authorized sir Thomas Gates, sir 
 George Summers, and their associates in London, to 
 settle in any part of the former which they might choose : 
 and sundry knights, gentlemen, and merchants of Bris- 
 tol and Plymouth, to occupy the latter. As James de- 
 rived no little consequence, in his own opinion, from his 
 skill in the^ience of government, the supreme ad- 
 ministration of the colonies was vested in a council re- 
 siding in England, and nominated by himself; and th^ 
 subordinate jurisdiction in a council resident in Ameri- 
 ca, which. was likewise- appointed by the royal authority. 
 At this time the English were accustomed to the arbi- 
 trary rule of their monarchs, and the limits of the royal 
 prerogative were unknown. It was either not per- 
 ceived, or not attended to, that, by placing the legislative 
 and executive powers in a council nominated by the 
 king, every settlS" in America was deprived of the 
 chief privilege of a free man-tjlhat of giving his voice 
 in the election of those who Frame the laws which he 
 is to observe, and impose the taxes which he is to pay. 
 But this was not the only error of ^^pes. He allowed 
 the settlers to trade with foreign nations: and thus the 
 mother country was prevei^ed from enjoying the bene- 
 fit of an exclusive commerce, which is supposed to be 
 the principal advantage resulting from the formation of 
 colonies. 
 
 When this charter was issued, neither the king, who 
 granted it, nor the people who received it, had any idea 
 that they were about to lay the foundation of great and 
 opulent states, which were one day to rise in successful 
 opposition against the power by which they were first 
 established. 
 
 In consequence of the grants which we have men- 
 tioned, both companies prepared to take possession of 
 the lands which had been assigned to them: and in a 
 short time colonies were established in Virginia and
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 613 
 
 New England ; the former in the south, and tlic latter 
 in tlic north. As these colonies were tlie first which 
 were planted in this division of the New World, aiul are 
 to be considered as the parent settlements, under whose 
 protection the others were founded, it will be sufficient 
 to trace their origin and progress, and to state, in a few 
 words, at what time, and by what means, the inferior 
 settlements were established. 
 
 Of the principal colonies, Virginia is the most ancient, 
 and has the first claim to our attention. 
 
 In the year 1608, captain Newport sailed from Eng- 
 land with three ships and 105 men who were destined 
 to remain in the country which they were about to visit. 
 Among these were some gentlemen of distinguished 
 families, particularly Mr Percy, brother to the earl of 
 Northumberland, and several officers of reputation, who 
 had carried arms during the reign of Elizabeth. Though 
 they followed the old course, and sailed towards the 
 West Indies, yet when they had reached the American 
 shore, they were driven to the north of Roanoke by a 
 storm, and accidentally discovered Cape Henry. This 
 is the southern boundary of Chesapeake bay. They 
 stretched at once into that noble harbour, which re- 
 ceives the waters of the Powhatan, the Potomac, the 
 Susquehanna, and all the rivers which give fertility to 
 this province of America, and adapt it so wonderfully to 
 the purposes of inland navigation. Newport sailed up 
 the Powhatan, to which he gave the name of James 
 River, in honour of the sovereign under whose au- 
 thority he acted: and here he chose a place of residence 
 for the adventurers who were to settle in the country. 
 They raised a few huts to protect them from the in- 
 clemency of the weather: and the council, who were 
 nominated by the king, and were to reside in America, 
 opened their commissions, and entered upon their of- 
 fice. The infant settlement was called James-town; 
 an appellation which it still retains : and, though it ne- 
 ver rose to great wealth or distinction, it was the first 
 of the English establishments in the New World, and 
 has all the honour among the American states that an- 
 tiquity can confer. 
 
 The Indians, among whom the European adventurers 
 liad settled, were divided into small and independent 
 tribes, and separated from one another by hereditary 
 and unabating resentment. They were able, however, 
 to disturb the colony by their petty hostilities; though 
 they could not, at this time, muster a force sufficient to 
 destroy it. But this was not the only calamity which 
 the Europeans were doomed to suffer. The stock of 
 provisions which they had brought with them from 
 England was nearly exhausted ; and what remained 
 was of a quality so bad, that it was unfit to be eaten. 
 This scanty allowance to which they were reduced, as 
 well as the influence of a climate to which they were 
 not yet habituated, gave rise to diseases, and quickened 
 their virulence; so that the number of the colonists 
 gradually diminished. In this exigency, they were re- 
 lieved by the talents and activity of captain Smith. 
 Immediately after the arrival of the settlers, and in con- 
 sequence of the disagreements which had taken place 
 during the voyage, he had been expelled from the 
 council, though chosen by the king as one of its mem- 
 bers: but such were his abilities and enterprising tem- 
 per, that he was now unanimously called to his seat, and 
 invited to take a chief part in the administration. He 
 was not unworthy of the charge, or unequal to the du- 
 ,ties which his situation required. lie fortified James- 
 
 town, so as to protect the coldnists from the injuries of 
 the savages. He marched in quest of those tribes who 
 had given most disturbance to the Europeans: and 
 partly by force of arms, and partly by address and good 
 treatment, he put an end to their hostilities, and pro- 
 cured from them a supply of provisions, of which the 
 colony was so much in need. By the exertions of Smith, 
 contentment was speedily restored: and this he consi- 
 dered as a sufficient recompense for all his toils and 
 dangers. But, unfortimately, in one of his excursions, 
 he was surprised by a numerous party of Indians, and 
 compelled to retreat ; and the savages pressing hard 
 upon him, he sunk to the neck in a morass, and was 
 taken prisoner. He was carried to Powhatan, the most 
 considerable sachem, or chief, of Virginia, and would 
 have suffered a cruel death, if Pocahuntas, the daugh- 
 ter of Powhatan, animated by that concern for the Eng- 
 lish which the adventurers from the west never failed 
 to experience, had not rushed between him and the 
 executioner, and begged her father to spare his life. 
 Her request was granted; and she afterwards procured 
 him his liberty; and from time to time sent provisions 
 to the colony. 
 
 When Smith returned to James-town, he found no 
 more than 38 persons within the walls which he had 
 lately raised. The spirits of the colony were completely 
 broken. Every individual was filled with despondency, 
 and anxious to leave a country which was so inhospita- 
 ble. He prevailed upon them, however, to remain for 
 some time : and provisions arriving from England, abun- 
 dance and satisfaction were happily restored. Smith 
 had formed a detern\ination of visiting and examining 
 the country in the neighbourhood of the place where 
 the English had settled; and, in order to prosecute his 
 design, he embarked with a handful of adventurers 
 (A. D. 1609,) in an open vessel, ill adapted to the pur- 
 pose for which it was intended. He advanced towards 
 the north, as far as the river Susquehanna, and visited 
 the country both on the east and the west ; and trading 
 with some of the natives, and fighting with others, he 
 taught them to respect the English for their superiority 
 in knowledge and in arts, and to dread the operation of 
 the weapons which they used. He afterwards made a 
 second excursion; and at length drew out a map of the 
 creeks and inlets which he had entered, as well as thg 
 adjacent country, with such accuracy, that his delinea- 
 tion has served as a basis and a model for all those who 
 have since attempted to exhibit the geography of the 
 United States. 
 
 In the same year (1609,) a remarkable change took 
 place in the constitution of the colony. A new charter 
 was issued, of a more enlarged and liijeral nature than 
 the former. The boundaries of the settlement were ex- 
 tended ; the council resident in America was abolished, 
 and the administration of aflairs vested in a council, re- 
 sident in London. A numerous body of respectable 
 merchants and others were joined to the former adven- 
 turers, and they were all incorporated under the name 
 of " The Treasurer and Company of Adventurers of the 
 city of London, for the first colony in Virginia." The 
 proprietors of this company were allowed to choose the 
 persons of whom the council was to be composed ; and 
 powers were granted them to elect a governor, who 
 was to manage their affairs in the colony, and to execute 
 the orders which should be issued from England. They 
 were fartl»cr authorized to enact such laws, and intro- 
 duce svich rcG:ulalions. as ihcv should iudc;e inost adr»
 
 014 
 
 A3IEinCA. 
 
 vantageous for the settlers in America. Tliese ample 
 privileges were conferred in an age, when privileges of 
 u similar nature were not ollen conferred: liut it is pro- 
 bable, that James, with all his sagacity, did not per- 
 ceive the conseciuenccs in which they were likely to 
 terminate. 
 
 As soon as the company had got the management of 
 their affairs into their own hands, the proprietors daily 
 increased both in numbers and respectability. 
 
 The first governor who was sent out to America un- 
 der the new charter, Avas lord Delaware. Not being 
 able to leave England immediately, this nobleman des- 
 patched sir Thomas Gales, and sir George Summers, 
 with nine ships, and live hundred settlers. Eight of 
 these vessels arrived at .Tames-town ; but the ship in 
 which Gates and Summers were embarked, was sepa- 
 rated from the rest, and cast ashore upon Bermuda; 
 and as these gentlemen alone had been commissioned to 
 act in the room of the governor, none of those who had 
 reached America could produce any authority for under- 
 taking the administration of the colony. At this time, 
 Smith was unable to exert himself with his usual vi- 
 gour. He lay, burned and mangled by an explosion of 
 gunpowder; and at length became so ill, that his friends 
 judged it necessary to remove him to England. After 
 his departure, all subordination and industry ceased 
 among the colonists. Anarchy prevailed througliout 
 the settlement. The Indians, ever on the watch, saw 
 the misconduct which had now become general; and 
 learning that the man who had taught them to reverence 
 the English name was at a distance, they withheld the 
 customary supplies of provisions, and harassed the 
 planters with uninterrupted hostilities. The stores 
 which were brought from England were speedily con- 
 sumed ; the domestic animals which had been sent to 
 breed in the country, were taken and devoured ; the 
 scarcity increased ; and in the extremity of their dis- 
 tress the Europeans were forced to subsist on the bodies 
 of the Indians whom they had killed, or those of their 
 countrymen who had perished through sickness and 
 fatigue. With one voice, they resolved to quit the set- 
 tlement, and return to their native country. Nor did the 
 arrival of Summers and Gates prevent them from ad- 
 hering to the resolution which they had formed. They 
 embarked and sailed down the river; but, just as they 
 liad reached its mouth, they were met by lord Delaware, 
 with three ships, well appointed with every thing ne- 
 cessary for the defence and benefit of the colony. Of an 
 amiable and conciliatory disposition, and not destitute of 
 the firmness which his situation required, the lord Dela- 
 ware gained the afl'ection of the settlers, and accustomed 
 them once more to subordination and discipline. The 
 license of the Indian depredations was checked, and the 
 colony began to assume a flourishing appearance ; but 
 imfortunately the governor's health declined ; he was 
 obliged to leave the country ; and having nominated 
 INIr Percy as his successor, he sailed for the West Inr 
 dies. 
 
 Sir Thomas Dale was the next governor. He was 
 empowered by the company to ride by martial law, 
 vi'hich even the Spaniards had not the boldness to intro- 
 duce into their settlements ; but it was approved of in 
 this instance, by sir Francis Bacon, one of the greatest 
 philosophers and civilians of his time. In consequence 
 of the authority with wliich Dale was invested, and 
 which he exercised with becoming moderation, the 
 activity of the planters increased, and industry prevail- 
 
 ed throirghout the colony. The friendship of the Eng- 
 lish was courted by the natives, A poweiful tribe near 
 the river Chickahominy declared themselves to be the 
 subjects of Cireat Britain, look tlie name of Englishmen, 
 and agreed to furnish the settlers annually, with a stipu- 
 lated portion of corn. Mr Rolfe, a young gentleman 
 of the colony, smitten wiih the beauty ot Pocahuntas, 
 the daughter of Powhatan, asked her in marriage of 
 her father, and obtained her own consent to the union. 
 An alliance with Powhatan was the consequence of this 
 marriage ; and the land being now divided, for the first 
 time, among the settlers, and granted to them in full 
 property, industry was excited by the hope of wealth ; 
 and improvements of every kind took place. Tobacco, 
 as affording the most certain return, was eagerly culti- 
 vated and exported. Still, however, the colony consisted 
 chiefly of nrales. Few, if any, of the planters had imi- 
 tated the example of Rolfe; and the only way in which 
 the strength of the association could be augmented, 
 was by fresh and consecutive arrivals from the mother 
 country. In order to remedy this deficiency, young 
 women of humble origin, but of good character, were 
 sent out from England, and the planters were encouraged 
 to marry them by premiums ofl'ered by the company 
 They were fondly received by the American settlers, 
 and were established so much to their satisfaction, that 
 others, hearing of their prosperous fortune, ventured 
 across the Atlantic, and became wives and mothers in a 
 short time. 
 
 The Europeans now began to feel an interest in the 
 welfare of a country which they looked upon as their 
 own. This interest was farther excited and quickened 
 by an act of sir George Yeardley, the new governor. In 
 the year 1619, he called the first general assembly which 
 was held in Virginia, and raised the colonists, who, till 
 then, had been nothing more than the servants of the 
 company, to the distinction and the privileges of free 
 men. In this assembly, which met at James-town, ele- 
 ven corporations were present, by their representatives ; 
 and though the laws which they enacted were neither 
 numerous, nor of great consequence, yet the meeting 
 itself is to be regarded as an important era in the his- 
 tory of Virginia. The constitution was now formed on 
 the model of that which was established in England. 
 The highest legislative authority was lodged, partly in 
 the governor representing the sovereign, partly in a 
 council named by the company, and representing the 
 peerage, and meant also to assist the governor in the 
 executive, and partly in a body of men chosen by the 
 settlers, and enjoying the rights and privileges of the 
 English commons. A negative was reserved to the go- 
 vernor ; and no ordinance was held to be of force, till 
 it was seen and ratified by the company in Europe. 
 
 About the time when the first assembly was convo- 
 ked, a Dutch ship from Africa, arriving at James-town, 
 a part of her cargo of negroes was purchased by the 
 colony ; and these rapidly increasing their numbers, the 
 whole field work in Virginia was, in a short time, per- 
 formed by the hands of slaves. 
 
 But in the midst of this tranquillity and success, a 
 calamity was approaching, which was both unlooked 
 for and severe. Powhatan, the Indian chief, was dead. 
 He was succeeded by Opechancanough his son ; who 
 not only inherited the dominion of his father, but equal- 
 led him likewise in his influence over the neighbouring 
 tribes. With impenetrable secrecy, and no small ad- 
 dress, he formed a conspiracy to massacre the English,
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 G15 
 
 and to deliver ihc couiiLiy Iroiii llicsc utuvclcoinc iiuiii- 
 tlers, who were liviiitj in the utmost security, or waii- 
 derinij trom place to pluce, unsuspicious of danger, and 
 unprepared lor assault. Not a word or a look, whicli 
 could indicate their purpose, escaped Irom the savages. 
 They traded with the Europeans as formerly ; they 
 brougiit ill provisions, and were considered as friends, 
 whom there was no reason eitlier to suspect or to dread. 
 But every tribe had its station allotted to it, and the day 
 consecrated to vengeance was fixed. On the 22d of 
 March 1618, they rushed upon the English in all their 
 settlements, and in the fury of that vindictive spirit 
 Which characterizes the American savages, they butch- 
 ered men, women, and children, without pity or re- 
 morse. In many places, not a single European escaped ; 
 and the blow was so completely unexpected, that they 
 knew not from whence it came. One man only of the 
 whole conspiracy, touched with compassion for the set- 
 tlers, or moved by the influence of the Christian reli- 
 gion, which he had adopted, felt within himself a dis- 
 position to reveal the secret; and he communicated it 
 to his master in such time, as to prevent James-town, 
 and some of the adjacent settleincnts, from experien- 
 cing the dreadful efiects of Indian vengeance. A bloody 
 war ensued : the English, by their arms, their disci- 
 pline, and the succours which arrived from Europe, 
 were still more than a match for the savages. They 
 hunted them like wild beasts ; they allured them from 
 their retreat by the hopes of peace : and falling upon 
 their settlements at the time of the harvest, they mur- 
 dered them with relentless cruelty, and destroyed their 
 possessions. In consequence of this awful retaliation, 
 the colony was left undisturbed by the natives, and the 
 hopes of the English began to revive. 
 
 But the company in London were by no means so pli- 
 ant to the will of James as he had expected. That 
 sapient monarch now discovered, that he had acted un- 
 wisely in granting to them the high privileges which 
 they enjoyed. They delighted to thwart his inclinations, 
 and defeat his purposes; and as the parties which now 
 divide the British senate were then forming, the meet- 
 ings of the council were the theatre on which the popu- 
 lar orators displayed their eloquence ; and canvassed 
 the measures of the sovereign, with a freedom not at all 
 agreeable either to his notions of his own wisdom, or of 
 the royal prerogative. He attempted to model anew 
 the government of Virginia ; but the company resisted, 
 and pleaded the validity of the charter which they had 
 received. This exasperated James in the highest de- 
 gree. He issued a writ of quo warranto, against the 
 proprietors, the cause was tried in the court of king's 
 bench, and decided in favour of the crown : the compa- 
 ny was dissolved, and its rights and privileges being 
 forfeited, returned to the sovereign by whom they were 
 bestowed. James unfortunately died when he was em- 
 ploying all his wisdom in contriving a suitable mode of 
 government for the colony in Virginia. 
 
 Charles I. who succeeded James, adopted the opi- 
 nions of his father, with regard to the American settle- 
 ttients ; and, during a great part of his reign, the plan- 
 ters knew no other law than the will of the sovereign. 
 Harvey, the governor, enforced every act of power with 
 such cruelty, that the colonists, rising in opposition to 
 
 his authority, seized his person, and serit him prisoner 
 to England, accompanied with two of their number to 
 substantiate the charges whicli they brought against 
 him.* Tills was looked upon by Cliaries as little sliort 
 of rebellion; and Harvey being restored to his ofiicc, 
 was entrusted with more ample powers tlian before. 
 The deputies were not even allowed to prefer their 
 accusations in tiie hearing of the king. Dissatisfaction 
 prevailed among tlie colonists. Nor could the mild and 
 temperate government of sir William Berkeley, wha 
 was appointed not long after in the room of Harvey, 
 pacify their discontents ; till Charles, by an extraordi- 
 nary deviation from his usual conduct respecting the 
 American settlers, allowed writs to be issued, and the 
 representatives of the people to be called ; that, in con- 
 junction with the governor and his council, they might 
 give their voices in whatever related to the chief inte- 
 rests of the colony. Berkeley was ordereil likewise to 
 establish courts ot justice on the model of those in 
 England. Tliis sudden alteration in the conduct of 
 Charles is ascribed, by Dr Robertson, to his fears. He 
 was about to convoke his parliament, where he knew 
 that tlie complaints of the settlers would be readily at- 
 tended to, and urged as the evidences of his arbitrary 
 disposition ; and " he endeavoured to take the merit of 
 having granted voluntarily to his people in Virginia, 
 such privileges as he foresaw would be extorted from 
 him." — Hist, of Amcr. vol. iii. p. 273. ed. 1801. 
 
 After the downfal and the death of Charles, when his 
 authority was no longer acknowledged in England, it 
 was still preserved in Virginia. Arms alone compelled 
 sir William Berkeley to relinquish the government, and 
 descend to the condition of a private man. Here, as in 
 other places, the forces of the parliament were success- 
 ful ; and, under officers appointcfl by Cromwell, the; 
 settlers enjoyed an unbroken tranquillity during a period 
 of nine years. But their loyalty, though suppressed, 
 was by no means extinguished. They returned to their 
 allegiance ; and forcing Berkeley to quit his retirement, 
 they elected him governor of the colony, and were the 
 first of British subjects who made open declaration of 
 their attachment to Charles II., and proclaimed him with 
 all his titles. 
 
 This display of loyalty was not rewarded by Charles, 
 as the colonists were entitled to expect, or as they per- 
 haps deserved. But the king, though he neither enlarged 
 the boundaries of the settlement, nor introduced any 
 regulation which was very advantageous to its com- 
 merce, was, nevertheless, sensible, that the planters had 
 shown themselves attached to his family, and spoke of 
 their zeal in terms of high commendation. The spirit 
 which influenced the parliament, however, was by no 
 means favourable to the American settlers. The re- 
 straints which had been imposed upon their commerce, 
 during the usurpation, were not removed. They were 
 even obliged to trade within more narrow limits. The 
 celebrated Navigation Act was passed by the commons : 
 and in this memorable statute, it was ordained, (12 Car. 
 II. c. 181.) that no commodities should be imported into 
 any foreign settlement, unless in vessels, built either in 
 England or its plantations, and manned with sailors, of 
 whom three-fourths were the subjects of Great Britain : 
 that none but Englishmen, born or naturalized, should 
 
 * The discontents v.-liich took place diivingthe time that Harvey was governor, were aiitjmentcd by injndicions grants ofland within 
 tlie limits of the colony ; the most conspicuous instance of which was that of Maryland to the lord Baltimore. Marshall's Life of 
 ll'as/iingto/i, vol. i. p. 81.
 
 (5id 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 act as nicrchaiiU or iaciors in any of the colonies : that 
 no ginger, tobacco, sugar, cotton, wool, indigo, or other 
 articles enumerated in the bill, slio\iId be exported from 
 the colonics to any country but Mngland ; and (A. D. 
 1663,) that no European commodity should be imported 
 into the colonies that had not lieen )>/ii/i/u'd in JCnff/dud, 
 and in vessels built and manned, as has been slated 
 above. The Act of Navigation, however, allowed the 
 settlers in America to export the enumerated commo- 
 dities from one plantation to another, without paynig 
 any duty: but in the year 1672, they were farther sub- 
 jected to a tax equivalent to what was paid by the con- 
 sumers of the same commodities in England. In the 
 subsequent transactions of the mother countiy and the 
 colonies, we shall find a perpetual and undeviating ef- 
 fort on the part of the former to support these restraints ; 
 and on the part of the latter to break through or elude 
 them. 
 
 As soon as the intelligence of what the commons had 
 done, in passing the act of navigation, reached Virgi- 
 nia, that important statute was felt as a grievance by all 
 the settlers. They petitioned earnestly for relief, but 
 without effect. Murmurs and dissatisfaction spread 
 through the colony. It was openly maintahied, that they 
 ought to assert their rights by force of arms ; and they 
 wanted nothing but a leader to carry them to all the 
 extravagancies of actual rebellion. This leader they 
 found in Nathaniel Bacon, a man of great influence 
 among the people ; eloquent, ambitious, and daring. He 
 had been appointed by the council, to conduct the war 
 against the Indians, at the heads of the rivers, who had 
 lately become troublesome, and even formidable to the 
 settlers : but, instead of marching against the savages, 
 he turned directly towards James-town, drove the go- 
 vernor across the bay to the eastern shore, and took the 
 supreme authority into his own hands. Nor was he 
 destitute of support in his new situation. Many of the 
 respectable planters acknowledged his jurisdiction, and 
 declared their resolution of adhering to him with their 
 lives and fortunes, till such time as they had an oppor- 
 tunity of laying their grievances before their sovereign. 
 Meanwhile, Berkeley had transmitted an account of the 
 insurrection to Europe, and a body of troops arrived 
 from England. But just as he was about to take the 
 field with all his strength. Bacon sickened and died, (A. 
 D. 1677,) and his followers, deprived of their leader, 
 submitted without reluctance to the authority of the 
 governor. Soon after, colonel Jefferies was appointed 
 in the room of sir William Berkeley ; and from that 
 period to the revolution in 1688, there is scarcely any 
 memorable occurrence in the history of Virginia. 
 
 The administration, however, was still carried on in 
 the full spirit of arbitrary dominion; and the Virginians, 
 though their constitution resembled that of England in 
 its form, were so utterly unacquainted with liberty, that 
 they were denied even the privilege of complaining, the 
 last consolation of the oppressed: for they were pro- 
 hibited by a law, and under severe penalties, " from 
 speaking disrespectfully of the governor, or defaming, 
 either by words or writing, the administration of the 
 colony." (Robertson's .'liner, vol. iii. p. 288.) Yet, not- 
 withstanding these circumstances, they doubled their 
 numbers in less than twenty-eight years. 
 
 The efforts of the company at Plymouth were neither 
 so vigorous, nor at first so successful, as those of the 
 company in London. 
 
 For u while, their attempts were limited to voyages 
 made for the purpose of taking fish, or, at most, of tra- 
 ding with the natives, and procuring furs. In one of 
 these attempts. Captain Smith, of whom we have spoken 
 in the history ot Virginia, explored with accuracy, 
 (A. D. 1614,) that part of the American coast, which 
 stretches from Penobscot to Cape Cod : and having de- 
 lineated a map of the country, he presented it to Charles, 
 prince of Wales, who gave to the region that Smith 
 had visited, the name of New England, which it still 
 rctauis. 
 
 But what the exertions of the company were unable 
 to accomplish, was effected by a principle, which has, 
 at all times, had a chief share in the revolutions that 
 take place in human affairs. When the light of the 
 Reformation had dawned upon Europe, the extravagant 
 doctrines and absurd practices of the Romish church 
 filled the minds of those who had ventured to think 
 freely on religious topics, with horror and irreconcilc- 
 able aversion. The spirit which prevailed at that time 
 was by no means satisfied either with the partial changes 
 which took place in the reigns of Henry VIII. and Eli- 
 zabeth, or the imperious manner in which these sove- 
 reigns dictated a creed to their people : and the less so, 
 as the opinions of the royal theologians themselves, es- 
 pecially those of the former, had undergone consider- 
 able alterations. Elizabeth, determined that all her 
 subjects should conform to the belief which she had 
 chosen for them, established a High Commission for 
 ecclesiastical affairs ; with powers, not inferior, or less 
 hostile to the rights of conscience, than those of the In- 
 quisition in Spain. Some attempts were made in the 
 house of commons to check these arbitrary and odious 
 proceedings : but Elizabeth interfered with her preroga- 
 tive, and the guardians of the people were silent. They 
 even consented to an act, by which those who should 
 be absent from church for a month, were subjected to a 
 fine and imprisonment, and, if they persisted in their 
 obstinacy, to death, without benefit of clergy. In con- 
 sequence of this iniquitous statute, and the distresses in 
 which the puritans were involved, a body of them called 
 Brownists from the name of their founder, left England, 
 and settled at Leyden, in Holland, under the care of 
 Mr John Robinson, their pastor. But this situation at 
 length proving disagreeable to them, and their children 
 intermarrying with the Dutch, they were apprehensive 
 lest their church, which they regarded as a model of 
 untarnished purity, should gradually decay ; and having 
 obtained a promise from James I. that they should not 
 be molested in the exercise of their religion, they fled 
 to America, and founded the colony of New Plymouth. 
 They continued for some time to adhere to their reli- 
 gious opinions, but never became so numerous as to at- 
 tract, in any great degree, the attention of the mother 
 country. They were afterwards united to the colony of 
 Massachusetts Bay, the origin and progress of which 
 we shall now relate. 
 
 From the tranquillity which the Brownists had enjoy- 
 ed at New Plymouth, and the sufferings to which those 
 who held the same opinions were exposed in England, 
 an association was formed by Mr White, a clergyman 
 at Dorchester, in order to lead a new colony to that part 
 of America, where their brethren were settled. They ' 
 applied to the Grand Council of Plymouth, of which the 
 duke of Lennox and the marquis of Buckingham were . 
 members, (for the original company had been dissolved 
 by the authority of the king,) and purchased from them
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 617 
 
 all thai pail, of New England, wliicli lies three miles to 
 the south of Charles river, and three miles to the north 
 of Merrimac river, and extends from the Atlantic 
 ocean to the South sea. They obtained a charter from 
 Charles I. by which the same ample privileges were 
 conferred upon them, which James had conferred upon 
 the two companies of Virginia: and they obtained it 
 with a facility which appears to us, altogether unac- 
 countable, when we think of the principles and views of 
 those to whom it was granted. They embarked, to the 
 number of 300, in five ships, (A. D. 1629,) and landed 
 at New England. They found there the remains of a 
 small body of puritans, who had left their country, tlie 
 year before, under Endicott, a frantic enthusiast ; and 
 uniting with these, they settled at a place to which En- 
 dicott had given the name of Salem. This was the first 
 permanent town in Massachusetts. 
 
 All these emigrants were puritans of the strictest 
 sort, and their notions of ecclesiastical affairs were re- 
 duced to the lowest standard of Calvinistic simplicity. 
 But with an inconsistency of which there are many 
 examples, and with which no particular sect can be 
 charged to the exclusion of others, the veiy men who 
 had just escaped from the intolerance of persecution in 
 England, shortly after their arrival, banished two of their 
 number from the settlement, on account of a difference 
 in religious opinion. 
 
 It was by no means agreeable to the planters in Ame- 
 rica, that they should bo governed by the company in 
 England, the members of which were at a distance, and 
 unacquainted with their circumstances : and not a few 
 of the proprietors themselves, were disheartened by the 
 oppression of Laud, and eager to be disengaged from an 
 adventure which was yet unpromising. It was there- 
 fore determined by general consent, that " the charter 
 should be transferred, and the government of the cor- 
 poration settled in Massachusetts Bay." This is per- 
 haps the most remarkable occurrence in the history of 
 English colonization. The right of the company to 
 make such a transference is very questionable. The 
 indifference of the king in allowing it to take place is 
 no less astonishing : but he was engaged at this time 
 in disputes with his parliament, and perhaps was not 
 displeased that a body of his subjects, who were known 
 for their dislike to his government, were removed to a 
 country where their turbulent spirit could not so easily 
 prove dangerous to his interests. Whatever was the 
 reason of Charles's connivance, the adventurers pro- 
 ceeded without delay to execute their plans. In a gene- 
 ral court, VVinthrop was chosen governor, and eighteen 
 persons were nominated his assistants ; and in these, 
 together with a body of freemen who should settle in 
 New England, all the rights of the company were vest- 
 ed. In consequence of this alteration, seventeen vessels, 
 and three hundred planters, sailed for America. As 
 soon as they arrived at New England, they explored the 
 country in quest of a better station than that of Endicott 
 at Salem, and laid the foundations of many towns, espe- 
 cially those of Charlestown and Boston. 
 
 As the same causes which at first led to emigration 
 continued to operate, the number of the settlers increa- 
 sed, by arrivals from Europe almost every year. Among 
 those who left their country about this time, were two 
 persons, afterwards distinguished on a more conspicuous 
 theatre — Peters, the chaplain and assistant of Oliver 
 Cromwell, and Mr Vane, son to sir Henry Vane, a man 
 of note, a privy counsellor, and of great influence with 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 the king. Mr Vane was received by the planters witli 
 tlic fondest admiration. His grave and mortified ap- 
 pearance, and his reputation for wisdom and piety, to- 
 gether with the atteiuion which he paid to the leading 
 members of the church, all conspired to render him the 
 favourite of the people ; and he was appointed to the 
 office of governor with universal approbation. But tlic 
 part which he took in the religious disputes which then 
 agitated the colony, detaching many of his adherents 
 from his interest, he quitted America in disgust, unrc- 
 grctted even by those who had so lately admired liim. 
 
 Besides the meetings for the worship of (iod on Sun- 
 day, and the lecHu'c every Thursday, tlic inhabitants of 
 Boston assembled on the other days of the week, for tlu 
 purposes of religious conference and theological discus- 
 sion. With a propriety which has not always distin- 
 guished the enthusiastic and the visionary, the females 
 were strictly excluded from these assemblies. But Mrs 
 Hutchinson, a woman of some talents, and not deficient 
 in eloquence, instituted a meeting of the sisters also : 
 and her lectures were at first attended by many respect- 
 able persons of her own sex. The number of these 
 daily increased. The doctrines of Mrs Hutchinson soon 
 became public, and generally known : and Vane, the 
 governor, v/hose prudence always forsook him when his 
 thoughts were turned towards religious subjects, es- 
 poused the wildest of her tenets with the zeal which 
 characterised the times in which he lived. She main- 
 tained, that purity of life was not an evidence of accept- 
 ance with God: that those who inculcated tiie necessity 
 of a virtuous conduct, preached only a covenant of works : 
 and that as the Holy Ghost dwells personally in such as 
 are justified, they have no occasion for positive laws to 
 regulate their actions. These tenets, equally hostile to 
 good sense, and pernicious to society, were adopted and 
 defended by many of the colonists. Mrs Hutchinson, in 
 order to separate her followers from such as opposed 
 her, drew a marked line of distinction between them : 
 the former she described as under a covenant of grace, 
 and in a state of favour with the Almighty ; and the lat- 
 ter, as under a covenant of works, and the objects of his 
 displeasure. Dissensions prevailed and rose to a great 
 height. Religious conferences were held; days of fast- 
 ing and humiliation were appointed ; a general synod 
 was called ; and, at last, to the honour of our rational 
 nature, Mrs Hutchinson's opinions were condemned as 
 erroneous; and she herself was banished from the colo- 
 ny. It was after this decision that Vane quitted the 
 settlement. 
 
 But whatever the pernicious consequences of these 
 theological disputes might be, they certainly contributed 
 to the more speedy population of America. The pro- 
 ceedings against Mrs Hutchinson excited no little dis- 
 gust in the minds of those who adhered to her senti- 
 ments. A party of these withdrawing from the commu- 
 nion of thfir brethren, joined themselves to the disciples 
 of Williams, who was banished from Salem in the year 
 1634; and purchasing from the Indians an island in Nar- 
 raganset-bay, they gave to it the name of Rhode Island, 
 and settled there. The colony of Connecticut owes its 
 origin to the dissensions between Hooker and Cotton, 
 two favourite preachers in Massachusetts ; and those of 
 New Hampshire and Maine, chiefly to the separation of 
 Wheelwright, a proselyte of Mrs Hutchinson, from the 
 rest of the community in the same province. 
 
 These new establishments exposed the English te 
 great dangers from the Indians, by whom they were 
 41
 
 618 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 surrounded. The Pequods, an ancient and martial tribe, 
 were the first wiio look the alarm. Relinquisiiinij their 
 former animosities, they proposed to the Narragansets 
 that they should unite against the common enemy ; 
 whose numbers became every day more formidable, and 
 whose progress threatened them both with indiscrimi- 
 nate ruin. But such was the love of re\cngc, or the 
 want of foresight on the part of the Narragansets, Lhat, 
 instead of joining with the Pequods in defence of their 
 country and their freedom, they communicated the pro- 
 posal which had been made to them to the governor of 
 Massachusetts-bay ; and united with him against the 
 Indians whom it was the English interest to oppose. 
 The Pequods, exasperated rather than discouraged, looli 
 the field, and laid siege to Fort-Saybrooke. Captain 
 Tenderhill was despatched to its relief; and it was 
 agreed by the colonies of Massachusetts, Plymouth, and 
 Connecticut, that they should march next year into the 
 country of the enemy, and put a final termination to 
 their hostilities. The troops of Connecticut were first 
 in motion. But the colony of Massachusetts was divided 
 about the covenant of works and the covenant of grace : 
 It was found, that some, both of the officers and men 
 who were to fight its battles, w ere yet under the cove- 
 nant of works : the others therefore declared, that the 
 blessing of God could not rest on the arms of such as 
 differed from them on this metaphysical question; and 
 it was not till after much alarm, and many changes, that 
 they were sufficiently pure to begin the war. In the 
 mean while, the troops of Connecticut were obliged to 
 advance against the enemy. The Indians were posted 
 on a rising ground, not far from the head of the river 
 Mystic, and had fortified themselves with pallisadoes; 
 the only method of defence with which they were ac- 
 quainted. They had been deceived by the movement 
 of the English vessels from Saybrooke to Narraganset; 
 and, imagining that the expedition was abandoned, had 
 given themselves up to riot and security. At the break 
 of day, while the Indians were overpowered with sleep, 
 the colonists approached ; and had not the savages been 
 alarmed by the barking of a dog, their surprise and de- 
 struction would have been complete. They instantly 
 raised the war-cry, and flew to such arms as they pos- 
 sessed. But though their courage was great, they were 
 speedily discomfited by the discipline and bravery of the 
 Europeans. The English shot at them through the 
 palisadoes, forced their way through the works, and set 
 fire to their huts. Many of the women and children 
 perished in the flames. The confusion and terror be- 
 came general, and scarcely any of the party escaped. 
 This blow was followed by others equally effectual. The 
 troops of Connecticut being reinforced at length by those 
 of Massachusetts, they pursued the enemy from one 
 retreat to another; and in less than three months, the 
 Pequods were so completely extirpated, that their very 
 name as a tr'be was lost. A few individuals, who es- 
 caped the general carnage, were incorporated with the 
 neighbouring Indians. 
 
 In consequence of this decisive campaign, which was 
 marked by cruelties, required neither by good policy nor 
 by necessity, the English enjoyed a long tranquillity in 
 all their colonies. 
 
 Immediately after the termination of the war, New- 
 haven was settled. 
 
 The number of emigrants from England still con- 
 tinued to increase. Multitudes, driven from their coun- 
 try by the oppression of its rulers, found safety and:.pro- 
 
 tection in the colonies of America. Charles I. alarmed 
 
 at tlie diminution of his subjects at home, issued a pro- 
 clamation, by which the masters of ships were forbiuueu 
 to carry passengers to New Eiig.anu without his per- 
 mission ; a mandate, which, though it was often disre- 
 garcled, operated in one instance witli a full and latal 
 efleCL. Sir Arthur Haslerig, Oliver Cromwell, John 
 Hampden, and others of the same principles, liad lured 
 some sliips to carry them to America : ana the king laid 
 an embargo on the vessels just when they were ready 
 to sail. By this means, he torcibly detauicd in England 
 the persons who afterwards disturbed his tranquillity, in- 
 volved the nation in a civil war, overturned ttie throne, 
 and*brought ^he monarch himself to the scanold. The 
 order oLCharles was utterly insufficient to slop the pro- 
 gress of emigration. In the year 1638, above tliree 
 thousand persons, choosing rather to incur the displea- 
 sure of the king, than remain under the tyranny ot his 
 government, embarked for New England, and were 
 gladly received by the planters. Enraged at this con- 
 tempt of his authority, Charles issued a writ of nuo ivar- 
 ranto against the corporation of Massachusetts-bay, and 
 its patent was declared to be forfeited. But as the trou- 
 bles of his reign were approachuig, he was prevented 
 from attending to the situation of the colonics in the 
 Western World. 
 
 When the parliament took the government of England 
 into their own hands, the causes of emigration ceased 
 at once to operate. The purit;ins were noi only delivered 
 from oppression, but constituted a great body of the na- 
 tion, and directed every thing by their authority and in- 
 fluence. The effects of this change, upon the colonies, 
 were immediate. The price of provisions fell in all the 
 settlements. A milch cow, which was sold for 30/. at 
 the time when the influx of strangers was greatest, 
 might now have been purchased for 6/. and other arti- 
 cles, necessary to life, sustained an equal diminution. 
 The property of the colonists became more fixed and 
 settled, and the rewards of industry more secure. And 
 it was towards the close of the period at which we have 
 arrived, that the planters had the first returns for their 
 stock ; as about that time they were able to export a 
 small quantity of corn to the West Indies. Every act 
 of the parliament was friendly to the interest of the set- 
 tlers. They exempted them from all duties whatso- 
 ever, either on the goods which they received from Eu- 
 rope, or on those which they imported into the mother 
 country : and this unusual exemption was afterwards con- 
 firmed to them in its utmost extent. The leaders of the 
 commons in England appear to have considered the 
 Americans as friends, whom they could not sufficiently 
 oblige, and whose encroachments they had no reason to 
 fear. They allowed the colonies of Plymouth, Massa- 
 chusetts, Connecticut, and Newhaven, to enter inio a 
 league of perpetual confederacy, off'ensive and defen- 
 sive ; which these colonies regarded as necessary, in 
 order to protect themselves from the Indians, and from 
 the Dutch at Manhadoes, whose views were supposed to 
 be hostile. It was agreed by the confederates, that they 
 should be distinguished by the name of The United 
 Colonies of New England ; that each colony should re- 
 tain a distinct ^and separate jurisdiction; that in every 
 war each colon^; should furnish its proportion of men, 
 according to its population ; that all questions of gene- 
 ral interest should be determined by commissioners ap- 
 pointed by the colonics, that each colony should appoint 
 two commissioners for that purpose ; and that every de-
 
 AMEltlCA. 
 
 619 
 
 termination, in which six of the commissioners agreed, 
 shouiu be obiiguipry upon the whole association, from 
 this confederacy Rhode-island was excluded. 
 
 hut the indulgence of the parliament towards these 
 settlers in New England did not slop here. They even 
 permitted tlieni to usurp the privileges ol royally, and to 
 coin money at Boston, without notice or remonstrance. 
 A peace was concluded with the Dutch. The Indians 
 had ceased to infest the colony ; and the planters, exert- 
 ing themselves with vigour under all their privileges 
 and encouragements, enjoyed an unbroken tranquillity 
 till Charles II. was restored to the dominions of lis an- 
 cestors, and the authority of the. puritans abolished. 
 
 But, notwithstanding these favourable circumstances, 
 the intolerant spirit of their religious sentiments re- 
 mained in its lull force. The government exerted it- 
 selt in maintaining the purity of the faith, and in the 
 hoiy work (as it was called) of punishing heretics. 
 Tiicy were deprived of their rights as freemen ; they 
 Were fined and imprisoned ; they were scourged, and 
 put lo death. The quakers, who were branded with the 
 name of open and public blaspiiemers, sufl'ered particu- 
 larly from the rigour ot these proceedings ; but none of 
 those, who differed from the opinions ol the men in 
 power, were peiinilted to escape. At this unhappy 
 time it was not discovered, that it is beyond the autho- 
 rity of the magistrate to regulate the decisions of intel- 
 lect, and that persecution is the worst engine that can be 
 employed for abolishing the differences of religious 
 opinion. 
 
 The restoration of Charles was an event by no means 
 agreeable to the settlers in New England. They had 
 been tostered under the care of the parliament and 
 Cromwell, and were republicans both in religion and 
 politics. No sooner had the monarch been seated on 
 his throne, than his attention, as well as that of his peo- 
 ple, was turned to the colonies in America. The navi- 
 gation act was passed and enforced. The settlements 
 of Rhode-island and Connecticut were established by 
 charter. The people of Massachusetts, though they 
 neither proclaimed the king, nor formally acknowledged 
 his authority, received with respect and kindness, 
 Whaley and Goff, the judges whom he had appoint- 
 ed. But, all doubt of the universal and joyful submis- 
 sion to Charles being dispelled, with the flexibility of 
 men who have much to lose, they voted an address, full 
 of loyalty and attachment to theii' sovereign, yet, at the 
 same time, without giving up what they conceived to be 
 thLir rights. Not long after, it was determined by the 
 gericral court, that the royal warrant to apprehend Wha- 
 ley and Goff, for some offence against the king, should 
 be faithfully executed : but these persons were allowed 
 to escape to Connecticut, and to remain there during the 
 rest of their lives. The republican spirit still pre- 
 vailed among the settlers. They neglected to comply 
 with the orders of the king, enjoining more liberality in 
 ecclesiastical affairs: and though they received his 
 commissioners, appointed to hear complaints and ap- 
 peals, and enabled them, by their assistance, to conquer 
 the Dutch, and take possession of their settlements, yet 
 their obedience was that of necessity, and different alto- 
 gether from the promptitude of voluntary service. They 
 declared in a general court, that the proceedings of the 
 commissioners had been a disturbance of the public 
 peace ; and Charles having heard what the sentiments 
 of the colonists were respecting the officers whom he 
 
 had appointed, summoned the latter into his presence, 
 and ordered the agents of the former to appear at the 
 same time. But the court all'ectcd to disbelieve the au- 
 thenticity of the letter containing the order for their at- 
 tendance, and excused themselves in the best manner 
 they could. After the departure of the commissioners, 
 New England was for some time (juiet and prosperous. 
 
 The repose of the colonists was interrupted by the In- 
 dians in the neighbourhood of Massachusetts-bay. Phi ip, 
 their leader, at the head of a powerful confederacy, 
 obliged the settlers to contend, not for their possessions 
 only, but also for their lives. The struggle was long 
 and bloody. Tlie |)iogress of the Indians was marked 
 wherever they went with slaughter and desolation : and 
 six hundred of the colonists, the strength and llower of 
 New England, either fell in battle, or were murdered by 
 the enemy. The result of the whole was favourable to 
 the English. 
 
 As the republican spirit continued to show itself in 
 every transaction of the settlers, a writ of qxw warrtiuto 
 was issued by Charles II. against the company of Mas- 
 sachusetts ; and in 1 684, " the letters-patent, and the 
 enrolment thereof," were cancelled. The other colo- 
 nies were deprived of their charters in the arbitrary and 
 cfppressive reign of James II. and reduced to a total de- 
 pendence upon the crown. But the people of New 
 England did not submit to the king w ithout great reiuct- 
 .ance ; they thwarted his measures ; they disregarded 
 the navigation act ; and some intelligence of the pro- 
 gress of William of Orange having reached them, they 
 assembled tunmltuously at Boston, and, seizing the go- 
 vernor and his assistants, they threw them into prison. 
 William and Mary were afterwards proclaimed with 
 universal demonstrations of joy. 
 
 Having traced the origin and progress of the colonics 
 in Virginia and New England, we shall here introduce 
 the dates of the other settlements which form a part of 
 the United States of America. 
 
 When settled. 
 
 Names of Places. 
 New York, . . 
 
 New Jersey, . . 
 
 South Carolina, . . . 
 Pennsylvania, . . . . 
 
 North Carolina, about 
 
 about 1614, 
 
 A. D. 
 
 Georgia, 
 Kentucky, 
 
 Vermont, . . . about 1764 
 
 Territory north -w 
 Ohio, . . . 
 
 Tennessee, on the 
 Kentucky, 
 
 By whom. 
 By the Dutch ; af- 
 terwards taken, and 
 established by the 
 t_ English. 
 fGranted to the duke 
 ,,_. J of York by Charles 
 '^•"■^n II- but settled be- 
 
 (_ fore. 
 
 1669, By governor Saylc. 
 
 1682 5I^y Wm. Penn, and 
 
 '^ a colony of quakers. 
 
 r Erected into a sepa- 
 
 1728,'< rate government ; 
 
 (^ settled before. 
 l7-,o 5% general Ogle- 
 ^^■"-'1 thorpe. 
 irrs. By col. Daniel Boon. 
 TBy emigrants from 
 J Connecticut, and 
 1 other parts of New 
 (^ England. 
 of the 5 By I'le Ohio, and 
 . . 1787,^ other companies, 
 south of 
 
 4 12 
 
 est
 
 620 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 Besides tlic Indians, the French iti Canuda ;ind Aca- 
 dia were destined, for a while, to clieck tho i)retensions, 
 and mar the prosperity of the English colonies. Tiie ri- 
 val nations attempted to settle in America aljout the 
 same time ; and, hi the year 1608, James I. of England 
 granted to the companies of Virginia a part of llic ter- 
 ritory which had been allotted, three years before to M. 
 de Monts by Henry IV. of France. This was an imme- 
 diate cause of dispute and warfare. Under various com- 
 missions and difi'ereut leaders, the French had posses- 
 sed themselves of Canada and Acadia ; and at the pei'i- 
 od to which we have brought the history of the English 
 colonies, they had gained over the Indians in their neigh- 
 bourhood, and were preparing to attack, the settlement 
 of New York. The chief stations of the French in North 
 America, were, Quebec, Montreal, and Port-Royal. 
 
 The fate of the colonies, like that of other dependants, 
 was wholly regulated by the measures which their su- 
 periors adopted. About this time, Louis XIV. was ma- 
 king rapid strides towards universal dominion ; and Wil- 
 liam of Orange, now elevated to the English throne, was 
 equally zealous and active in resisting his ambitious at- 
 tempts. When hostilities commenced in Europe, the 
 colonies in America began likewise to annoy each other 
 in their several possessions. The French, in conjiinc- 
 tion with their Indian allies, made predatory incursions 
 ihto different parts of New England: and a war of this 
 kind, attended with much expense, and no little indi- 
 vidual misery, was for some time carried on. 
 
 It was frequently intended by the ministry in Great 
 Britain, to send an armament into North America for 
 the protection of the colonies, and the invasion of Can- 
 ada ; but the affairs of Europe requiring all their atten- 
 tion, the settlers were obliged to arm in their own de- 
 fence. At length, Colonel Nicholson was despatched to 
 England, in order to represent the state of the country 
 to queen Anne ; and to petition for such assistance as 
 would enable them to attack the French in their pos- 
 sessions, and to deliver themselves from an enemy who 
 was both troublesome and dangerous. Soon after, Ni- 
 cholson returned with five frigates and a bomb-ketch : but 
 the colonies were to furnish the troops which might be 
 requisite for the expedition. It was resolved to attack 
 Port-Royal in Acadia. The whole armament, consisting 
 of one regiment of marines, and four regiments of pro- 
 vincials, sailed from Boston, (A. D. 1707,) and invested 
 the place, which surrendered without opposition. Vetch 
 was appointed governor ; and the name of the town was 
 (hanged from Port-Royal to Annapolis, in honour of the 
 queen. This, however, was a trifling and an ineffectual 
 IjIow. More powerful aid was necessary : and Nicholson 
 was again despatched to Europe, in order to solicit the 
 prompt and decided interference of England. Contrary 
 lo all expectation and belief, his mission was successful. 
 He arrived at Boston in the year 1711, with instructions 
 to the governors of the colonies to have their propor- 
 tions oi" men in readiness, by the time that the fleet and 
 army should reach them from Europe. The interval 
 was exceedingly short; but as the service was agree- 
 al)le to the people, as well as the governors, they exert- 
 ed themselves with unusual vigour, and all difficulties 
 were overcome. The general court of Massachusetts 
 issued bills of credit to the value of 40,000/. in order to 
 supply the money which the English treasury could not 
 advance : the whole settlers were enjoined to furnish 
 the army with provisions ; each colony brought in the 
 proportion which was assigned it ; and all things being 
 
 ready, '.lie expedition set out from Boston on the oOth at' 
 July, and proceeded, without delay, lo the river St Law- 
 rence. The iiumberof troops which had arrived from Eu- 
 rope was considerable. They consisted of seven veteran 
 regiments, which had fought under the illustrious duke of 
 Marlborough, and one regiment of marines ; and these, 
 together with the provincials, amounted to 6500 men ; a 
 force equal to that which afterwards, under the com- 
 mand of Wolfe, reduced Quebec, when it was fortified 
 with more skill, and defended by an abler general. One 
 fatal night, however, blasted the hopes of the colonists. 
 As they sailetl down the river, eight of the transports 
 were wrecked on Egg-Island ; and the weather was so 
 unfavourable, that they were more than a week in reach- 
 ing Quebec. Tlie expedition was soon after abandoned j 
 and the treaty of Utrecht being signed in Europe, a ter- 
 mination was put to the war. The Indians, in the ser- 
 vice of the French, no longer prompted to hostilities, 
 and no longer supported by their allies, sued for peace. 
 
 Duruig the peace, the republican spirit of the colo- 
 nies in New England showed itself in disputes and quar- 
 rels with their governors : and these disputes were in- 
 creased by the arbitrary manner in which the governors 
 enforced the orders of the crown. In most instantes, 
 however, the colonies had the advantage : knowing what 
 was due to them as the subjects of England, they de- 
 termined not to sacrifice any of their rights to the en- 
 joyment of a temporary repose. They had the money 
 of the country in their possession, and, as had been done 
 in Europe, they might withhold the supplies of all kinds, 
 till their object was gained. 
 
 In the year 1703, lord Cornbury was appointed gov- 
 ernor of New York. Needy, profligate, and tyrannical, 
 he scrupled not to convert to his private use the money 
 which had been raised for the protection of the settle- 
 ment ; and refused to give an account of his disburse- 
 ments. The legislature took the alarm. They nomi- 
 nated a treasurer of their own ; and put the money, des- 
 tined for the service of the public, into his hands. This 
 was far from being acceptable to the governor ; but he 
 found himself obliged to comply, and at last declared, 
 that the general assembly were permitted to name tlic 
 officer who should manage the supplies raised for ex- 
 traordinary uses, and forming no part of the standing 
 revenue. Cornbury proceeded in his career of tyranny 
 and extortion, till the queen, informed of his unpopular 
 measures, consented to recal him. Amidst the quar- 
 rels which took place during his administration, it was 
 resolved by the assembly of New York, that " the im- 
 posing and levying of any monies upon her majesty's 
 subjects of that colony, under any pretence or colour 
 whatsoever, without their consent, in general assembly, 
 is a grievance and a violation of the people's property." 
 But it is likely, that this resolution was meant to apply 
 only to the governor ; and that the legislature did not, at 
 tliat time, cjuestion the right of the sovereign to impose 
 taxes on the colonies without their approbation. It ap- 
 pears, however, to have been understood in the other 
 settlements, that the crown had no such right : and this 
 fundamental principle of liberty becoming gradually 
 universal in its operation, at length dismembered the 
 empire, and separated the colonies from the parent 
 state. 
 
 Disputes of a similar kind with those of New York, 
 prevailed at Massachusetts. The representatives of the 
 people denied, that the governor could refuse to ac- 
 knowledge a speaker who was chosen by them : and
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 021 
 
 persisting in their election of Mr Cooke, they were dis- 
 solved, and new writs were issued. The sivme persons, 
 however, were returned ; and, at the opcnintj of the next 
 session, they remonstrated with Shutc, the governor, 
 on the dissolution of the former assembly, and resolved, 
 " that those who advised his excellency in tliat matter, 
 did not consult his majesty's (George I.) interest, nor 
 the public weal and quiet of the govermnent." They 
 refused to make a present to the Indians of the Penob- 
 scot tribe, according to the wishes of the executive ; 
 and when they were desired to reconsider their vote, 
 they would give no more than ten pounds. Though ad- 
 journed to a certain day, they met before the interval 
 had elapsed ; and passed a resolution against the east- 
 ern Indians, which was equal to a declaration of war, and 
 which the governor justly considered as an invasion of 
 his privileges. It was therefore negatived by the coun- 
 cil. They hesitated about augmenting the salary of the 
 governor, and refused to say what they would allow him 
 in time to come. They set themselves in opposition to 
 all his schemes. At the beginning of the next session, 
 A. D. 1721, he expressed a wish, tliat they should take 
 measures in order to prevent the depreciation of the 
 currency ; to punish the authors of factious and sedi- 
 tious papers ; to provide a present for the Indians of the 
 Five Nations ; to suppress a trade carried on with the 
 French at Cape Breton, and to enlarge his salary : but 
 they neglected to comply with his inclinations in all 
 these respects. They even appointed a committee of 
 their number, " to vindicate the proceedings of the house 
 from the insinuations made by the governor, of their 
 want of duty and loyalty to his majesty." Nor did their 
 encroachments stop here. They attempted to direct the 
 conduct of the militia in the Indian war :. and thus to 
 deprive the king's representative of a privilege which is 
 always considered as belonging exclusively to royalty. 
 In the mean time, the governor left the settlement, and 
 returned privately to England. He reported, that the 
 proceedings of the planters were violent, presumptuous, 
 and inimical to the best interests of the country ; and 
 the points in dispute being examined, with a reference 
 to the charter by which their privileges were conferred, 
 every question was decided against the house. It was 
 determined, that the governor had a right to negative 
 the election of a speaker ; and that the assembly had no 
 power to meet in any interval of adjournment. A char- 
 ter, explanatory of the original one, was prepared, and 
 passed the seals ; and it was left to the option of the 
 general court, either to accept or to refuse it ; but they 
 were told, that if tliey refused it, the whole subject of 
 difference between tlie governor and the house of repre- 
 sentatives would instantly be laid before the parliament. 
 The result of a parliamentary investigation was dreaded 
 by the colonists ; as, from the temper of the ministry, 
 no issue, favourable to their interests, could be expected. 
 They even feared, that their ancient charter, the foun- 
 dation of all their immunities, and the bulwark of their 
 prosperity, would be withdrawn. The spirit of the as- 
 sembly, too, was considerably changed. No longer irri- 
 tated by the presence and opposition of the governor, 
 the violence of their passions had subsided; and reason 
 being restored to its place, they perceived that they had 
 acted irregularly and unwisely. In this disposition, the 
 majority agreed to accept the explanatory charter. 
 
 The next governor w as Mr Burnet. He was received 
 with great pomp at Boston ; and on the meeting of the as- 
 sembly, he told them, that he had it in command to insist 
 
 upon an established allowance ; and that he was, in this 
 respect, resolved to adhere to his instructions. The 
 court voted the sum of 1700/. to defray the expenses 
 of his jouney, and to support him in the rank oi gover- 
 nor and commander in chief; but they would not agree 
 to any act fixing a salary, which tlieir descendants should 
 be obliged to pay. Memorials passed on both sides. The 
 govei'nor llu'catencd them with an appeal to England, 
 and the abrogation of their charter. But they persisted 
 in adhering to their resolution, and declined to establish 
 any allowance. The house prepared a statement of the 
 controversy, which they transmitted to all their towns; 
 and at the end of the paper, they assigned the reasons of 
 their conduct ; reasons in themselves of such force, that 
 it was difficult to see what could be opposed to them, 
 unless it were a determination on the part of the gover- 
 nor to listen to no reason that conld be offered. " We 
 cannot agree to fix a salary, (they declare,) even for a 
 limited time : First, Because it is an untrodden path, 
 which neither we nor our predecessors have gone in ; 
 and we cannot certainly foresee the many dangers that 
 may be in it ; nor can we depart from that way which lias 
 been found to be safe and comfortable. Secondly, Because 
 it is the undoubted right of all Englishmen, by Magna 
 Charta, to raise and dispose of money for the public 
 service of their own free accord, without compulsion. 
 Thirdly, Because it must necessarily lessen the dignity 
 and freedom of the house of representatives, in making 
 acts, and raising and applying taxes ; and consequently 
 cannot be thought a proper method to preserve that ba- 
 lance in the three branches of the legislature, which 
 seems necessary to form, maintain, and support the con- 
 stitution. And, lastly. Because the charter fully em- 
 powers the general assembly to make such laws and 
 orders, as they shall judge to be for the good and wel- 
 fare of the inhabitants," kc. — Marshall's Life of Wasli- 
 ingtrjn, vol. i. 
 
 Notwithstanding these reasons, the governor still re- 
 fused to accept of any grant in place of an established 
 allowance. He removed the court from Boston to Salem, 
 on pretence that the members were controlled in their 
 resolutions by the violence of the townsmen ; he deprived 
 the representatives of the money which they should 
 have received to defray the expense of their attendance, 
 by refusing to sign a warrant upon the treasurer for that 
 purpose ; and animated by a wish to observe his instruc- 
 tions, he declared his resolution of adhering to them in 
 riieir utmost extent. But in the midst of these conten- 
 tions, he was seized with a fever and died. The death 
 of Mr Burnet, however, did not put an end to the dis- 
 pute in which he was engaged. It continued to distract 
 the settlement after his decease; and was finallv termi- 
 nated to the advantage of the people, by instructions 
 from the crown that the governor should accept of the 
 allowance which was annually voted by the assembly. 
 
 Of the different varieties of governments established 
 in the colonies, whether that of the king in the person 
 of his representative, that of officers chosen by the peo- 
 ple, or that of the proprietors, to whom lands in North 
 America were granted by the crown, the last appears to 
 have been the worst calculated to give protection to the 
 settlers. In the year 1663, Charles II. granted the pro- 
 vince of Carolina to the duke of Albemarle, the lords 
 Clarendon, Craven, and others, and to their lawful de- 
 scendents, in absolute property. Under the guardianship 
 of these noblemen, a colony was sent thilher, and fur- 
 nished at length with a plan of government by the cele-
 
 G22 
 
 AIMERICA. 
 
 brated Mr Locke. Uut liowever well skilled that philo- 
 sopher inii^lit \tt in uiiuiy.sing the qualities of the human 
 mind, and dislinguisniug its operations, it was soon lound 
 that he was very moderately accomplished in the science 
 ol governui!^ men. His laws were approved of and 
 adopted; but when reduced to practice, tliey were so 
 disagreeable to the settlers, that the constitution which 
 he recommended was abandoned in a short time, and the 
 former system revived. After the change of the consti- 
 tution, tlic settlers increased in numbers and wealth ; 
 and though their prosperity was interrupted by the Spa- 
 niards and the Indians in their pay< they maintained 
 their positions, and supported the character of English- 
 men, both for conduct and bravery. 
 
 In this colony, as well as in the others, differences 
 arose between the people and their rulers. The govern- 
 ment of the proprietors fell into disrepute, as they were 
 either unable or unwilling to afford the assistance which 
 was required ; and some encouragement being held out 
 to the planters by the sovereign, they took the adminis- 
 tration of the province into their own hands. The ques- 
 tion was tried by the lords of regency and council in 
 Kngland, (the king being then in Hanover,) it was de- 
 clared that the proprietors had lorfeitcd their charter ; 
 and Mr Francis Nicholson was appointed governor of 
 the colonies in the name of the king. The proprietors, 
 with the exception of lord Carteret, af'erwards sold their 
 right and interest to the crown fo L. 17, 300; and his 
 lordship himself relinquished all concern in the govern- 
 ment, though he retained his right of property. The 
 agreement between the crown and the proprietors was 
 confirmed by act of parliament. This transaction was 
 followed by a rebellion of the slaves in the province, 
 and a war with Spain ; the former was suppressed, and 
 the latter, which continued long, was ultimately favoura- 
 ble to the English interest. Before the termination of 
 the war, Charleston, the capital of South Carolina, was 
 destroyed by fire. The loss of the inhabitants was im- 
 mense ; but the legislature applied to the British par- 
 liament, and with the liberality of the national character, 
 L. 20,000 was voted for their relief. 
 
 The connection between the different families of the 
 house of Bourbon, rendered it vei-y unlikely that the 
 French would continue at peace, while the Spaniards 
 were at war with the British. An attempt was made to 
 destroy the English fishery at Canseau. Louisburg, 
 the capital of the island of Cape Breton, was besieged 
 by the provincials ; and the Vigilant man of war, which 
 had supplies of all kinds on board, being taken, Du- 
 chambon, the governor, surrendered the place. 
 
 In the year 1745, very important and extensive ope- 
 rations were planned by the rival nations. The French 
 had in view, the recovery of Cape Breton and Nova 
 Scotia, together with the total devastation of the coast 
 along the whole of the British possessions ; and Eng- 
 land, on her side, looked forward to the reduction of 
 Canada, and the expulsion of the French from the 
 American continent. It will soon appear, that the hopes 
 of the English were better founded than those of their 
 antagonists. The resources of the French, however, 
 were by no means inconsiderable. They were in pos- 
 session of Canada, and had fortified Quebec ; their towns 
 were numerous, their stations well chosen ; and by their 
 intrigues witli the Indians, they had secured the assist- 
 ance, or gained the neutrality, of many powerful tribes. 
 Nor was this all : They had extended their discoveries 
 along the banks of the Mississippi, and advanced to- 
 
 wards the great lakes ; they had occupied the country 
 of Upper Louisiana, a fertile region, capable of sup- 
 porting an inmiense population, and gratifying the most 
 ample views of conquest. The settlements of the 
 French stretching from north to soutii, hiterlered with 
 those of the English, which extended from east to west. 
 The former nation meditated the union of Louisiana 
 with Canada, by which they could more readily act in 
 concert, and annoy the English, whose encroachments 
 on the aboriginal tribes they had proposed to check. 
 They had acquired the command of Luke Champlain, 
 by erecting a fort at Crown Point ; and their posts ex- 
 tended up the river St Lawrence, and along the great 
 lakes. It was now designed to connect these posts with 
 the Mississippi. The white population of the F'rench 
 coli,nies amounted to 52,000 men. Their whole power 
 was marshalled under one ruler. The temper of the 
 people, as well as the genius of the government, was 
 military. With the exception of the Six Nations, (tor- 
 merly the Five Nations, a new tribe haviiig entered the 
 confederacy,) all the Indians were attac.ied to France; 
 they were trained to war after the Europe n maiiiier; 
 the efficacy of their assistance had already been expe- 
 rienced, and their aid was the more important and va- 
 lualjle, as they were acquainted with the recesses of the 
 country which was to become the theatre of war. In 
 opposing the force, and defeating the plans of the 
 F'rench, the English colonies laboured under many dis- 
 advantages. They were separated into distric govern- 
 ments and interests; excepting those of New England, 
 they were altogether unaccustomed to union; they w re 
 not inured even to obedience, for they were jealous of 
 the crown, and involved in frequent disputes with their 
 immediate rulers. They were spread over a large ter- 
 ritory, and in the central provinces, the people had lived 
 in such tranquillity, and for so long a time, t'^at they 
 were wholly unacquainted with niilitary operations. 
 Their population, however, exceeded that of the French 
 by one half, and was equal to a million of souls. 
 
 The execution of the plan for uniting Canada with 
 Louisiana, was probably hastened by an act of the Eng- 
 lish legislature. The Ohio company was formed about 
 this time; and in the year 1750, they obtained a grant 
 from the crown of 60,000 acres, in the country to which 
 both nations pretended they had a right. Measures were 
 instantly taken by the company, to secure all the advan- 
 tages which they expected from their new acquisitions; 
 houses for carrying on a trade with the Indians of those 
 parts were established, and surveyors were appointed to 
 ascertain and to fix the lands which had been allotted to 
 them. Though the survey was made as secretly as pos- 
 sible, the intentions of the English in visiting the Ohio, 
 became quickly and generally known. 
 
 The English traders were seized. Major Washington, 
 who afterwards, in a higher command, led the people of 
 America to independence and to empire, was despatch- 
 ed by the govenior of Virginia, with a letter, requiring 
 the French general to quit the dominions of his Britan- 
 nic majesty. The French general having declined to 
 comply with the requisition, Washington, after the gal- 
 lant defence of a small stockade, hastily erected at- the 
 Little Meadows, was obliged to capitulate. Fort du 
 Quesne was raised by the French on the disputed pro- 
 perty. It was perceived that a great struggle would 
 ensue. Orders arrived from England, to cultivate the 
 friendslip of the S-\ Nations, and, if possible, to dis- 
 lodge the French from the settlement on the Ohio. A
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 623 
 
 conference with the Indians was held at Albany. A pro- 
 posal was made by governor Shirley, that the colonies 
 should unite for their mutual defence ; and that a grand 
 council should be formed, in order to secure the ready 
 co-operation of all the English in America; but, not- 
 withstanding the magnitude and immediate pressure of 
 the danger, the proposal was objected to, both in the 
 colonics and in England. The ministry were acquainted 
 witli the refractory disposition of the Americans; and 
 were afraid that the union might be detrimental to the 
 interests of tlie parent state. Tlie war coiituiued with 
 various success. The English possessed themselves of 
 Nova Scotia, according to their own definition of its 
 limits. General Braddock, the commander in chief, 
 resolved to attack Fort du Quesne, but was surprised 
 on his march, by a party of Indians, with whose mode of 
 fighting he was entirely unacquainted ; the van, under 
 the orders of lieutenant colonel Gage, was thrown into 
 confusion ; and the main body advancing, the enemy 
 were supposed to be dispersed ; but, in an instant, they 
 rose from the ground where they had concealed them- 
 selves, and firing upon the English, completed their 
 disorder. The defeat was total ; sixty-four officers out 
 of eightv-five, and nearly the half of the privates, were 
 killed or wounded. The army fled precipitately to the 
 camp of major Dunbar, where general Braddock ex- 
 pired. The earl of Loudon was then appointed to the 
 command of all the English forces in North America; 
 and the marquis de Montcalm, an able general, suc- 
 ceeded Dieskau in the government of Canada, and the 
 French possessions. Oswego was taken and destroyed 
 by the enemy. The small-pox, having broken out in 
 Albany, wasted the provincials. A military council of 
 the different governors was held at Boston under the 
 direction of the earl of Loudon. Montcalm advanced 
 against fort William Henry, and urged his approaches 
 with so much vigour and skill, that the garrison found 
 it necessary to capitulate, delivering up to the French 
 all the ammunition and stores ; and agreeing not to serve 
 against his most Christian majesty, or his allies, for the 
 space of eighteen months. But the Indians in the French 
 army, unacquainted with the maxims of honour which 
 regulated the conduct of the Europeans, and disregard- 
 ing the articles of capitulation, fell upon the troops, after 
 they had evacuated the place, dragged them from the 
 ranks, and put them to death with their tomahawks. 
 Montcalm exerted himself to prevent these outrages; 
 but much injury was done before his interposition was 
 effectual. 
 
 The earl of Loudon, unsuccessful in all his attempts, and 
 disappointed in the hope of gaining laurels by his victo- 
 ries in Canada, placed his army in winter quarters. This 
 was followed by a controversy with the settlers in Massa- 
 chusetts about the extent of the act of parliament for 
 billeting soldiers. The people firmly mahitained that 
 it did not apply to his majesty's subjects in the planta- 
 tions ; and addressing the earl, they offered such reasons 
 for their opmion and their conduct, and made such sub- 
 missions, as induced him to recal the orders which he 
 had issued for the marching of troops, in order to force 
 them to obedience. 
 
 Instead of producing fear and repressing activity, the 
 ill success of the British arms excited the indignation 
 of the people, both in England and the colonies, and 
 urged them to more vigorous preparations. Mr Pitt, 
 afterwards created earl of Chatham, was raised to the 
 head of the administration in Europe. Powerful in de- 
 
 bate, and able in the cabinet, of a noble independence 
 of spirit, capable of forming great schemes, and of exe- 
 cuthig them with unusual decision, and unremitting 
 perseverance, this accomplished statesman had the com- 
 plete direction of the strength and the riches of his coun- 
 try. In no part of the empire was his character more 
 popular than in America. He assured tl»e governors of 
 the provinces, in a circular letter wliich he addressed to 
 thcni, that an eflectual force should be sent, to act against 
 the French, both by sea and land ; and he called upon 
 them 10 raise as large bodies of men as the population of 
 the colonies would allow. These were to be supplied 
 with arms and ammunition by the crown. A vigorous 
 activity diffused itself through all the plantations ; and 
 the designs of the minister were seconded by the cheer- 
 ful and unabaiing exertions of the people. A powerful 
 armament, equipped with extraordinary despatch, sailed 
 from the harbours of England. The earl of Loudon 
 having returned to Europe, the command of all the 
 British forces in America devolved on general Aber- 
 crombie. This officer was at the head of 50,000 men ; 
 of which, 20,000 were troops raised in the provinces. 
 Three expeditions were resolved on, (A. D. 1758;) the 
 first against Louisbourg, which had fallen into the hands 
 of the French ; the second against Ticonderoga and 
 Crown Point; and the third against Fort du Quesne. 
 The troops destined to act against Louisbourg, consist- 
 ing of 14,000 men, were commanded by major general 
 Amherst; and admiral Boscawen, with 20 sail of the 
 line, and 18 frigates, was ordered to co-operate with 
 him in reducing the place. The army embarked at Ha- 
 lifax on the 24th of May, and arrived before Louisbourg 
 on the 2d of June. The fleet intercepted the supplies 
 which were designed by the enemy for the relief of their 
 colonies. The approaches of the British were regular 
 and decisive. General Wolfe was detached with 2000 
 men to seize a post at the Lighthouse Point, from which 
 the enemy could be annoyed with greater hope of suc- 
 cess ; and that young and gallant officer executed the 
 service with so much promptness and ability, that the 
 French were driven from their position, and several 
 batteries of heavy artillery were erected upon it. The 
 cannonade began, and it was perceived that the town 
 must ultimately fall. One of the enemy's ships in the 
 harbour was blown up ; the flame was speedily commu- 
 nicated to two others, which shared the same fate. 
 Another large vessel that had run aground, was destroy- 
 ed by a detachment of seamen under captains Laforey 
 and Balfour ; and another being towed off in triumph, 
 the English took possession of the harbour. A gene- 
 ral assault was meditated by the enemy ; but Drucourt 
 the governor, influenced by the wishes of the traders 
 and inhabitants, agreed to capitulate ; and resigned the 
 place, with all its artillery and stores, to the British 
 commander. 
 
 The expedition against Ticonderoga and Crown 
 Point, was led by General Abercrombie in person ; six- 
 teen thousand effective men were under his orders, and 
 he was provided with every thing necessary for the 
 success of the enterprize. The troops embarked on 
 Lake George, and landed without opposition, under 
 the cover of some heavy pieces of artillery mounted 
 upon rafts. They were divided into four columns, and 
 marched in that order towards the vanguard of the 
 enemy ; but the French, not being in sufficient force to 
 oppose them, deserted their camp and made a hasty 
 retreat. The English general then advanced towards
 
 C24 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 llic fortress of Ticonderoga, through woods which were 
 ahnost iuipussablc, and under the direction of unskilful 
 ijuides; so that the columns were driven upon each 
 other, and thrown into unavoidable confusion. Lord 
 Howe, at the head of the right centre division, fell in 
 a skirmish with a wandering party of the French, and 
 died, lamented by the whole army. The British having 
 taken possession of a post at the Saw-miils, about two 
 miles from Ticonderoga, and Abercrombie having learn- 
 ed that a reinforcement of 3000 men was daily expected 
 by the enemy, it was resolved to storm the place, before 
 the reinforcement should arrive, and even without wait- 
 ing for the artillery which was necessary to reduce it. 
 The attempt was unsuccessful, notwithstanding the 
 extraordinary bravery of the soldiers ; so that after a 
 contest of four hours, the general thought it prudent to 
 order a retreat, and relinquish the expedition. Fort 
 Frontignac was destroyed by Colonel Bradstrect ; and 
 the demolition of that strong hold facilitated the en- 
 deavours of the English against Fort du Quesne, which, 
 after a short time, fell into their hands. Thus ter- 
 minated the campaign of 1 758 ; during which, though the 
 success of the British was not equal to the expectations 
 which were formed from the mighty force brought into ac- 
 tion, their advances were both considerable and decisive. 
 
 After the disaster at Ticonderoga, the chief com- 
 mand was given to major general Amherst ; and the 
 bold design was formed, of expelling the enemy from 
 Canada, during the next campaign. As the English 
 were superior at sea, and had a numerous and powerful 
 fleet on the American station, the reinf'^rcements which 
 were sent by the French to their colonies were generally 
 intercepted. The British army was divided into three 
 parts, and distributed in the following order : The first 
 division under brigadier general Wolfe, who had dis- 
 tinguished himself at the siege of Louisbourg, was to 
 make an attempt on Quebec, the principal lortress of 
 the enemy in Canada ; the second division, under 
 Amherst, the commander in chief, was to be led against 
 Ticonderoga and Crown Point ; and general Prideaux 
 was to conduct the third, consisting of provincials and 
 Indians, against the important strong hold of Niagara ; 
 after the reduction of which, he was to embark on Lake 
 Ontario, and, proceeding down the St Lawrence, to at- 
 tack Montreal. The second division was ultimately to 
 unite with that under Wolfe, before Quebec. On the 
 approach of Amherst, Ticonderoga and Crown Point 
 were evacuated. Niagara was besieged in form, and 
 the F'rench made great efforts to relieve it ; but the 
 Indians, in their alliance, deserted them in the heat of 
 an engagement which followed, and victory declared in 
 favour of the English. This battle determined the 
 fate of the place. In these attempts, however, the loss 
 of the British was considerable. General Prideaux 
 was killed by the bursting of a cohorn at Niagara : and 
 the season being far advanced, it was not judged advisa- 
 ble to attack Montreal ; where Vaudreuil, the governor 
 of New France, at the head of 5000 men, was posted to 
 great advantage. 
 
 The expedition under the young and valiant Wolfe, 
 calls for more particular attention. As soon as the wa- 
 ters were sufficiently clear of ice, he sailed from Louis- 
 bourg with 8000 men, and a formidable train of artil- 
 lery ; and anchoring, after a prosperous voyage, near 
 the island of Orleans, which lies below Quebec, and ex- 
 tends to ilic basin of that town, he effected a landing 
 
 without much inconvenience. From this position, ht 
 
 took a view of the fortifications ; and such appeared to 
 be their strength, that adventurous as he was, and tearless 
 of danger, he declared that he had but little hope of 
 success. Quebec stands on the north side of the river 
 St Lawrence, and on the west side of the St Charles. 
 It consists of two towns, the upper and the lower. The 
 upper town is built on a lofty rock, which extends with 
 a bold and steep lioiit far towards the west, and renders 
 the city impregnable on that side ; and the lower town 
 is raised on a strand at the base of the same rock. On 
 the other side, the place is defended by the St Charles. 
 Tlie channel of this river is broken ; and its borders 
 are intersected with ravines. On its left, or eastern 
 bank, the French were encamped, strongly entrenched, 
 and amounting, by some accounts, to 10,000 men. Their 
 rear was covered by an impenetrable wood. At the 
 head of this formidable army, was a general of tried 
 skill and established character ; the same Marquis de 
 Montcalm, who, in the precedhig year, had reduced, 
 with astonishing celerity, the forts of Oswego and Wil- 
 liam Henry, and had driven the English, under Aber- 
 crombie, from the walls of Ticonderoga. Such was 
 the place before which Wolfe and the British army had 
 taken their station ; and such was the leader with whom 
 they were to contend. But though the difficulties 
 which the English general had to surmount were great, 
 his mind was too ardent, and too full of military enthu- 
 siasm, to harbour for a moment the idea of relinquishing 
 the enterprise, while any human means for its accomplish- 
 ment were unemployed. 
 
 He took possession of Point Levi, on the south side 
 of the St Lawrence, and reduced many of the houses 
 to ashes ; but the fortifications were too strong to be at- 
 tacked, and his batteries at too great a distance to make 
 any effectual impression upon the city. 
 
 He then resolved to pass the Montmorency, and to 
 attack the enemy in their entrenchments. In conse- 
 quence of this determinaton, 13 companies of grena- 
 diers, and a part of the second battalion of royal Ameri- 
 cans, were landed near the mouth of that river ; while 
 Generals Townshend and Murray prepared to cross 
 it higher up. The first part of the design was, to at- 
 tack a redoubt which could not easily be protected by 
 the enemy, in the hope that their ardour would lead 
 them to a general engagement. But the cautious Mont- 
 calm, knowing the advantages of his situation, permitted 
 the English to take possession of the redoubt, without 
 making any attempt to support those who defended it ; 
 Wolfe, therefore, on the appearance of some confusion 
 in the enemy's camp, led forward his grenadiers to the 
 entrenchments ; but he was received with a fire so 
 steady, and well maintained, that he was obliged to give 
 orders for repassing the Montmorency, and returned to 
 the island of Orleans. His whole attention, therefore, 
 was again directed to the St Lawrence. He attempted, 
 in conjunction with the admiral, to destroy the French 
 ships, but he failed in this also. He landed, however, at 
 Chambaud, on the northern shore of the St Lawrence, 
 and burned a magazine filled with arms, ammunition, 
 provisions, and clothes. But still, the chief object of the 
 expedition seemed, in no respect, more within his reach ; 
 and, intelligence of the good fortune which had attended 
 the British at Niagara, Ticonderoga, and Crown Point, 
 having reached the army, Wolfe could not help con- 
 trasting the embarrassments which he expcrie»ced, with
 
 AMERICA, 
 
 625 
 
 the success of his conlcderatcs. While his mind was 
 lofty, iL was likewise susceptible ; and the chagrin of dis- 
 appomtmcnt preying upon his delicate constitution, his 
 health began to decline. He expressed a resolution not 
 to survive the disgrace which would attend the failure 
 o£ the enierprize. His despatches, addressed at this 
 tuTie to Mr Pitt, seem to have been written with a view 
 to prepare the English nation for the ill success which 
 was to loliow. " We have," says he, "almost the whole 
 force of Canada to oppose. In such a choice of difficul- 
 ties, I own myself" at a loss how to determine. The 
 affairs of Great Britain, I know, require the most vi- 
 gorous measures ; but the courage of a handful of brave 
 men should be exercised only where there is hope of a 
 favourable event." Amherst, the commander in chief, 
 who had agreed to advance in order to assist him, after 
 the reduction of Ticonderoga and Crown Point, had led 
 his army into winter quarters ; but Wolfe, though 
 severely disappointed at the failure on the part of that 
 general, suffered not a word to escape which reflected on 
 his conduct, and appeared to be convinced, that cveiy 
 thing possible had been done ; for this distinguished 
 man, whose character, history is proud to delineate, 
 was as remarkable for his delicacy as for the other 
 qualities of his noble mind. It is certain, at the same 
 time, that the misfortunes and cruel embarrassments of 
 the English, were wholly owing to the want of exertion 
 in the commander in chief. 
 
 It was next resolved to attempt a landing above the 
 town. The camp at Orleans was therefore broken up ; 
 and the whole army having embarked on board the fleet, 
 one division of it was put on shore at Point Levi, and 
 the other carried higher up the river. A plan, suited 
 to the enterprising genius of the British commander, 
 was then formed. It was proposed to scale a pre- 
 cipice on the north bank of the river, during the night, 
 and in this way to reach the heights of Abraham, 
 behind the city. The precipice was accessible only 
 by a narrow path. The stream was rapid, the shore 
 iiTegular, the landing place such as could not easily 
 be found in the dark, and the steep above, very diffi- 
 cult to be ascended, even without opposition from 
 an enemy. If the English general should succeed, 
 he knew that he could bring the French to an en- 
 gagement ; but he knew also, that if the attempt 
 should fail, the destruction of a great part of the troops 
 would be the unavoidable consequence. Something, 
 however, was to be done. A strong detachment was 
 put on board the vessels destined for the service ; and 
 falling silently down with the tide, the English arrived 
 an hour before day -break, at the place which had been 
 fixed upon. Wolfe was the first man who leaped on 
 shore ; he was followed by the Highlanders and the 
 light infantry who composed the van ; as these were in- 
 tended to secure a battery not far from the entrenched 
 path by which the troops were to ascend, and to cover 
 the landing of their associates. Though they had been 
 forced by the violence of the stream to some distance 
 from the place of debarkation, and were obliged to 
 scramble up the rock by the assistance of its projec- 
 tions, and tlic branches of the trees which grew in the 
 cliffs, such was tlie ardour of the general, and such the 
 alacrity of the soldiers, tliat tliey reached the heights in 
 a short time, and almost instantly dispersed the guard 
 by which they were defended. The battery was se- 
 cured i the whole army followed; and when the sun arose, 
 the troops were ranged under their respective officers. 
 
 Vol. I. Part II 
 
 The marquis de Montcalm saw, at once, the advan- 
 tage which the English general had gained, and per- 
 ceived that a battle, which would decide tlie fate of 
 Quebec, and of Canada, was unavoidal)le ; he ther.iore 
 prepared for it with a courage and activity worthy of 
 his former exploits. He left his strong posiiioii on the 
 Montmorency, and passed the St Cliarles, to attack the 
 army of the besiegers. As soon as the movement of the 
 French was perceived, Wolfe eagerly formed his order 
 of battle. His right wing was under the command of 
 general Monckton, and covered by the Louisbourg gre- 
 nadiers ; and his left under that of general Townsliend, 
 protected by the Highlanders and the light infantry. 
 The reserve consisted of Webb's regiment. The right 
 and left wings of the enemy were composed of Euro- 
 pean and colonial troops ; a body of French were in the 
 centre, and they advanced against the English under 
 the support of two field pieces, and preceded by an 
 irregular corps of militia and Indians, who kept up a 
 galling fire. The movements of the French indicatuig 
 a design to turn his left, Wolfe ordered the battalion of 
 Amherst, and two battalions of royal Americans, to that 
 part of his line ; and here they were formed under 
 general Townshend, en potence, presenting a double 
 front to the enemy. The French marched up briskly, 
 and began the attack ; but the English reserved their 
 fire till the enemy were almost at hand, when they gave 
 it with decisive effect. The two generals were opposed 
 to each other, Wolfe on the right of the British, and 
 Montcalm on the left of the French. The English com- 
 mander ordered the grenadiers to charge ; and putting 
 himself at their head, advanced with all the zeal and all 
 the intrepidity of his character, when he unfortunately 
 received a mortal wound, and was obliged to be carried 
 to the rear. He was succeeded in the chief command 
 by general Monckton, and he by general Townshend. 
 The marquis de Montcalm fell. His principal officers 
 experienced the same fate. The French gave way, the 
 English pressed forward with their bayonets fixed, and 
 the Highlanders with their broadswords ; and in a short 
 time, victory declared in favour of Great Britain. The 
 enemy made one attempt to rally, but were driven partly 
 into Quebec, and partly into the river St Charles. They 
 failed completely in endeavouring to turn the left of the 
 English. Meanwhile, Wolfe surveyed the field with 
 tlie utmost anxiety ; forgetful of his sufl'erings, and alive 
 only to glory. He had been shot through the wrist in 
 the beginning of the action, but without manifesting the 
 least uneasiness, he wrapt a handkerchief about his arm 
 and continued to animate his soldiers ; another bullet 
 pierced his groin, and immediately after, he received, 
 as we have stated, a wound in the breast, which forced 
 him to be removed from the heat of the conflict, and 
 of wliich he soon expired. Still his eye was fixed on 
 the engagement. Faint through loss of lilood, he re- 
 clined his head on the shoulder of an officer who was 
 near him, eagerly inquiring about the fate of the day ; 
 and, though nature was almost exhausted, he roused 
 himself at the words, "they fly, they fly," which reach- 
 ed his ears. " Who fly ?" he exclaimed. He was told 
 it was the enemy. " Then," said the hero, " I depaft 
 content ;" and havin| said this, he expired in the arms 
 of victory. Thus fell the young and gallant Wolfe; a 
 man from whom his country had formed the highest 
 expectations, and whose conduct through the whole of 
 his short life, demonstrated that these expectations were 
 not formed of one who was either unable or unwilling 
 
 4K
 
 626 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 to support thcni. Brave, enterprising, dignified, and 
 humane, he possessed all the virtues of the military 
 character. His actions arc still held up to the imitation 
 of every British soldier ; and numerous songs and bal- 
 lads proclaim his merits, and perpetuate his fame among 
 the British people. While, however, we pronounce the 
 tulogium of successful intrepidity, let us not forget 
 that bravery may be displayed when it is not rewarded 
 by fortune ; and that, if the victors in this memorable 
 battle are celebrated for their courage and their conduct, 
 the vanquished likewise are entitled to praise. The 
 marquis dc Montcalm was an antagonist worthy of the 
 gallant Wolfe. Their minds were of kindred vigour; 
 the same love of glory animated them both, and it led 
 them both to the same fearlessness of danger, and the 
 same contempt of death. His troops being defeated, 
 notwithstanding all his exertions, Montcalm expressed 
 the highest satisfaction that his wound was declared to 
 be mortal ; and when he was told that he could not 
 live more than a few hours, he said, " it is so much the 
 better ; I shall not then live to see the surrender of 
 Quebec." 
 
 The battle of the heights of Abraham ^v■us followed 
 by the reduction of the city, and ultimately by the sub- 
 jugation of the French in Canada. They made, how- 
 ever, some attempts to recover the dominion and the 
 places which they had lost ; and Monsieur de Levi, after 
 a successful encounter, opened his batteries before Que- 
 bec ; but a strong fleet arriving from England, he was 
 compelled to raise the siege, and retire with precipita- 
 tion to Montreal. Here Vaudreuil, the governor gene- 
 ral of Canada, fixed his head-quarters, and calling in 
 his detachments, gathered around him the whole strength 
 of the colony. In the mean time, Amherst, the British 
 commander in chief, prepared to attack the French ; and 
 to secure to his countrymen the possession of Canada, 
 with the smallest loss which might be possible, on his 
 side. After making the necessary preparations, he set 
 out in person at the head of 10,000 men, and was joined 
 at Oswego by sir William Johnson, and a strong body 
 of Indians ; whose fidelity to the English, that gentle- 
 man had exerted himself to preserve and to confirm. 
 The army embarked on Lake Ontario ; and the British 
 general, having taken possession of the fort of Isle 
 Royale, which commanded, in a great measure, the 
 entrance of the St Lawrence, proceeded down the river, 
 and notwithstanding the difficulty of the navigation at 
 that time of the year, he arrived at Montreal. General 
 Murray appeared below the town, with as many of the 
 troops as could be spared from the garrison of Quebec, 
 on the same day that Amherst approached it from above. 
 Colonel Haviland joined the English with a detachment 
 from Crown Point. Against such a force as was now 
 before the place, the French were utterly unable to con- 
 tend. The governor oflered to capitulate ; and in the 
 month of September, A. D. 1760, Montreal, together 
 with Detroit, Michilimakinac, and all the possessions 
 of. France in Canada, were surrendered to his Britannic 
 majesty. The troops of the enemy were to be trans- 
 ported to their own country in Europe ; and the Canadians 
 were to be protected in the full enjoyment of their pro- 
 jjerty and their religion. 
 
 Thus, after a long and arduous struggle, after much 
 expense and much distress, the power of the French in 
 America was overthrown : and the safety of the British 
 colonists, was secured against the attacks of a rival 
 who had both the inclination and the means to annoy 
 
 them. In the course of the war, the most atrocious 
 cruelties were practised by the Indians: the cottage of 
 the peasant, and the house of the more wealthy settler, 
 were equally the objects of their resentment and their 
 fury : neither age nor sex was spared ; and the toma- 
 hawk and the scalping-knife, instruments the most 
 dreadful to tlie reflection of man, were employed with- 
 out discrimination, and without remorse. Nor could 
 the one people be charged with encouraging this dis- 
 honourable warfare to the exclusion of the other. After 
 the taking of Montreal, however, it was believed that 
 such cruelties would cease ; and it was hoped, that 
 the Indians, no longer excited by a rival nation, and 
 depending on the English alone, would leave the plan- 
 ters undisturbed to the prosecution of their commercial 
 interests, and the enjoyment of their domestic happi- 
 ness. 
 
 When the French were expelled from Fort du Quesne, 
 they retired into Louisiana, and endeavoured to seduce 
 the Cherokees from their alliance with Great Britain. 
 A war between the English and the savages of that na- 
 tion ensued. The inhabitants of South Carolina were 
 greatly distressed by their predatory hostilities ; and 
 colonel Montgomery was ordered to the assistance of 
 the planters, with a body of regular troops, which ar- 
 rived in the spring of the year 1760. The utmost exer- 
 tions being made in the province, Montgomery entered 
 the country of the Cherokees, where meeting with the 
 savages, a fierce encounter took place : but, though the 
 English claimed the victory, they thought it imprudent 
 to advance farther, and the Indians, in reality, suffered 
 no defeat. The war continued to rage. Amherst was 
 again applied to for assistance. Early in June 1761, 
 colonel Grant attacked the savages near the town of 
 Etchoc : the contest was severe : but the discipline and 
 valour of the English at length prevailed over the fierce 
 but artless courage of the Cherokees. Theu- houses 
 were destroyed, and their whole country wasted : and 
 such was the extremity to which they were reduced, 
 that they earnestly sued for peace. A treaty being con- 
 cluded Li the course of the year, the southern provinces 
 were delivered from the inroads of the savages. 
 
 The expulsion of the French from their possessions 
 in North America, was followed by a war with Spain, 
 which was carried on with signal advantage to Great 
 Britain. The princes of the house of Bourbon having 
 formed the alliance, called the Family Compact, in or- 
 der to support and to heighten their own aggrandize- 
 ment, the sovereign of France could not be idle while 
 his catholic majesty was in arms against England. Hos- 
 tilities commenced both in Europe and America. Gre- 
 nada, St Lucia, Martinique, St Vincent, and all the 
 Caribbee islands, were taken from the French ; and 
 Havannah, an important city, which commanded, in 
 some degree, the Gulf of Mexico, was wrested from 
 Spain. No force which the enemy could bring into ac- 
 tion seemed able to stop the British in the career of 
 victory and conquest : but, for reasons unnecessary to 
 be mentioned in this place, preliminaries of peace were 
 signed at Paris, and tranquillity was restored on both 
 sides of the Atlantic. By the treaty which was after- 
 wards concluded, " his Christian majesty ceded to Great 
 Britain, for ever, all the conquests made by that power 
 on the continent of North America, together with the 
 river and port of Mobile : and all the territory to which 
 France was entitled on the left bank of the Mississippi, 
 reserving only the island of New Orleans. And it was
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 627 
 
 agreed, that for the future the confines between the 
 dominions of the two crowns in that quarter of the 
 world, should be irrevocably fixed by a line drawn along 
 the middle of the river Mississippi, from its source, as 
 far as the river Iberville, and from thence by a line drawn 
 along the middle of this river, and of the lakes Maurc- 
 pas and Port Chartrain, to the sea. The Havannah was 
 exchanged with Spain for the Floridas : and by esta- 
 blishing these great natural boundaries to the British 
 empire in North America, every cause for future con- 
 test respecting that continent with any potentate of 
 Europe, appeared to be removed for ever." Marshall's 
 Life of Washington., vol. i. p. 564. 
 
 The love of liberty is natural to man. In the savage 
 state, this principle is exercised with little restraint : 
 every individual acts for himself, looks to his own cou- 
 rage and his own arm for defence ; and as he requires 
 not the protection of a superior, he disdains to acknow- 
 ledge his authority. When men are united in society, 
 it is perceived that subordination is necessary to their 
 happiness, and even to their existence in that society : 
 those who are accustomed to reflect, naturally take the 
 lead in every thing where reflection is wanted ; and 
 those whose valour or address is most conspicuous, have 
 the places assigned to them, where these qualities are 
 most requisite either for attack or defence. Laws are 
 framed to promote the good of the community ; and that 
 laws may be executed, some one must be obeyed. Thus 
 the authority of a chief being established, reason tells 
 us that it ought to be maintained : for if otherwise, sub- 
 ordination, which is necessary to the very existence of 
 society, and to the enjoyment of the benefits which re- 
 sult from union, cannot be preserved. The love of licen- 
 tious freedom is checked, and should be checked by the 
 power of the ruler. But if the ruler shall attempt to 
 enforce what is obviously prejudicial to the interests of 
 the state ; if, regardless of the laws which reason has 
 prescribed and expediency has required, he shall follow 
 the dictates of his own will or caprice ; if liberty is not 
 only subjected to wholesome restraint, but in danger of 
 utter annihilation ; the voice of justice and of nature 
 cries out, that resistance is necessary, and that bounds 
 should be set to the uncontrolled extravagance of do- 
 minion. When Xerxes is meditating the invasion of 
 .Greece, Greece must unite in its own defence. It was 
 the love of freedom which led Miltiades to the plain of 
 Marathon, and Leonidas to the pass of Thermopylae ; 
 and it was the same principle which glowed in the breast 
 of Wallace, and animated the exertions of Tell in the 
 service of his country. But before this principle is called 
 into action, it should be determined, whether the good 
 which is expected from resistance will counterbalance 
 the evils of insurrection, when order is destroyed, and 
 liberty degenerates into licentiousness ; and it should 
 not be forgotten, that the evils of insurrection are cer- 
 tain and imminent, while the good which is expected 
 from resistance is probable and remote. 
 
 Of the conduct of the Americans in the war, the par- 
 ticulars of which we are about to relate, we leave our 
 readers to judge for themselves : as it is our desire to 
 maintain an impartiality suited to the nature of our work. 
 
 We are no longer to consider l)ie colonies of Ame- 
 rica as feeble sctUemenls, witliout numbers, and almost 
 wholly depending on foreign aid, Init as opulent anci 
 powerlul stales, abounding in men," and fertile in re- 
 sources. Their population had increased to a very great 
 degree, notwithstanding the wars in which they had 
 been engaged : their trade was extensive ; and the cha- 
 racter ot the people adventurous and persevering, f.nd 
 of bold undertakings, and not easily deterred from the 
 execution of their purposes. Flushed with the extra- 
 ordinary success which had attended them in all their 
 military operations, and feeling the benefits and the 
 importance of their commerce, they justly regarded 
 themselves as no interior part of the British empire, 
 and as contributing largely to its wealth and prosperity. 
 Either with the permission or the connivance oi Eng- 
 land, their ships had visited every port ui the western 
 hemisphere. They had explored, and werecontuiually 
 exploring, new sources of trade, and were to be met 
 with in every place where busuiess of any kind was 
 transacted. With this enlarged and vigorous coiinncrce, 
 they joined a remarkable attention to the agriculture of 
 the provinces which they occupied. Whatever could 
 be done by art, by labour, and by economy ; whatever 
 judgment could plan, or ability could execute, for im- 
 proving the advantages ol their soil and climate, for 
 remedying the evils of their situation, or extendhig the 
 happiness of domestic life, had been undertaken and 
 prosecuted with unusual success. To all this they add- 
 ed a firmness, a prudence, and a lenity in the concerns 
 of government, which have rarely been equalled, and 
 never exceeded, on the opposite side of tlie Atlantic. 
 But in the midst of their prosperity, when every thing 
 was fair to the eye, and no cloud interposed to diminish 
 the brightness of the view, a storm was about to gather, 
 which was to darken for a while their clearest prospects, 
 and introduce terror and confusion into all their settle- 
 ments. 
 
 No sooner had the treaty of peace been ratified at 
 Paris, than the French appear to have formed the design 
 of prompting the colonies in America to throw oft' the 
 dominion of Great Britain. Animated by national hatred, 
 and galled by the loss of their possessions in Canada 
 and Louisiana, they despatched their emissaries into the 
 English provinces,! and succeeded but too well, in alien- 
 ating the affections of the people from the mother coun- 
 try. The colonists were by no means unacquainted with 
 resistance to the authority of Great Britain. They had 
 been driven at' first, by the tyranny of absolute dominion, 
 to take refuge in the Western World : they had long 
 cherished the republican principles which had carried 
 them thither : they had been involved in frequent dis- 
 putes with their immediate governors, and in these they 
 had often been successful ; and though they had derived 
 the most effectual assistance from England during their 
 
 t The opposition of the people of North America to 
 the claims of the British king and parliament, between 
 the peace of 1762-3, and the separation in 1776, was 
 not produced by French agency, but by the nature of 
 things. Tench Coxe. 
 
 * Throug'hout the northern provinces of Americi^, the population has been found to double itself every 25 years. Tlie original 
 number of jiersons who Uatl settled in the four proviaces of New England in 1613, was 21,200; afterwards, it was calculated that 
 more left them dian went to thcra ; yet in the year 1760, Uiey were increased to half a milUon. Malthus On Population, vol. u. p. 
 53, 8vo. i- > 1 
 
 4K 2 
 
 i
 
 628 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 late contests with the French, yet ihcy dieaded her influ- 
 ence, and viewed her rather in tlie light of a sovereign 
 than a parent. 
 
 Since the time of their earliest migration, the settlers 
 in America had been accustomed to acknowledge the 
 authority of the Britisii parliament, in regulating the 
 aflairs of their conmrcrce ; nor had they always distin- 
 guished between such enactments as respected their 
 trade, and such as respected their internal circum- 
 stances. But they were now disposed to question the 
 right of England to interfere, whether in matters of 
 commerce, or in those of civil institution ; as they were 
 not present by their representatives in the legislative 
 assembly of the nation, and therefore could neither give 
 nor refuse their consent to any measure by which their 
 prosperity might be affected. To do this, they consi- 
 dered as the chief and the unalienable privilege of Eng- 
 lishmen. They argued farther, that though they had 
 submitted in former times to the duties whicli parlia- 
 ment had laid upon tlieir commerce, the practice was 
 wrong, and that when an evil was perceived and acknow- 
 ledged, no precedent ought to sanction its continuance. 
 These reasonings, however, were not the consequence 
 of abstract and philosophical speculation. In the year 
 1764, a bill was introduced into parliament, by which 
 the colonists were to pay certain duties on goods brought 
 from such of the West India islands as did not belong 
 to the crown of Great Britain : and these duties were 
 to be paid into the exchequer in specie. By another act 
 of the same year, the paper currency was subjected to 
 certain limitations throughout the colonies. As soon as 
 the intelligence of these statutes had reached America, 
 they appeared to all the settlers as odious in a great de- 
 gree : the profitable commerce which they had long 
 maintained with the French and Spaniards in different 
 parts of the New World was to be instantly and rigor- 
 ously suppressed by taxes, which were equal, in their 
 judgment, to a prohibition of trade ; and these taxes 
 were to be gathered by the sudden conversion of all the 
 naval officers on the American station into collectors of 
 the revenue. Such men being unacquainted witli the 
 proper duty of their new character, rendered the law, 
 which was disagreeable in itself, still more hateful in 
 its execution. And as the penalties and forfeitures un- 
 der the act were recoverable in the vice-admiralty courts 
 in America, to the exclusion of a fair trial by jury, this 
 last circumstance gave an additional spur to the dissa- 
 tisfaction of the people. The whole continent was thrown 
 into fermentation ; vehement remonstrances were made ; 
 petitions were transmitted to the king, and memorials 
 to both houses of parliament ; every argument which 
 ingenuity could furnish, or interest could enforce, was 
 employed in order to procure the repeal of the obnoxious 
 statutes ; but all without effect. A committee was ap- 
 pointed at Massachusetts, to act during the recess of 
 the general court : and those who composed it were in- 
 structed to communicate with the other settlements, 
 and to entreat their concurrence and aid. In the mean 
 time, associations were formed in all the provinces, in 
 order to diminish the use of British manufactures : a 
 step which, besides its immediate effects, rendered the 
 merchants of England a party against the ministry, and 
 increased the opposition with which those in power were 
 obliged to contend. 
 
 But the ministry were determined not to stop at what 
 they had already done. Under pretence of enabling the 
 Americans to defend themselves against any foreign 
 
 enemy, and with a firmness worthy of a better cause, 
 they proceeded to complete the plan which they had 
 laid down lor the taxation of the colonies. Mr Grcnvillc, 
 therelore brouglu into parliament, a bill for imposiirg 
 stamp duties in America ; and after a struggle with the 
 opposition, and many animated debates, it passed through 
 bolli liouses, and received his majesty's assent. In an- 
 swer to the reasoning which was employed in support of 
 the bill, colonel Barrc distinguished himself by the vi- 
 gour of his eloquence : stating, with a manly freedom, 
 that the same spirit whicn had actuated the people at 
 first yet continued with them; and insinuating, in a way 
 that could not be mistaken, what would be the effects 
 of the measure which England was about to adopt. He 
 declared that he spoke from a particular acquaintance 
 with the character of the Americans : and expressing 
 his belief, that while they were jealous of their rights, 
 tliey were loyal to their king, he entreated the ministry 
 to pause before they ordained that the privileges of Eng- 
 lishmen were to be mvaded or destroyed. 
 
 The reception of the stamp act among the colonies 
 was such as might have been expected. Combinations 
 were every where formed to prevent its execution. At 
 Boston in particular, when the news arrived, and a copy 
 of the act itself, the utmost alarm was excited : the bells 
 were muffled, and a peal was rung, which the inhabitants 
 considered as the knell of departing liberty. The vio- 
 lence of the populace arose, and could with difficulty be 
 restrained. The act which was the object of their aver- 
 sion, was hawked in the streets, with a death's head at- 
 tached to it : it was styled the Folly of England, and the 
 Ruin of America: the stamps were destroyed where- 
 evcr they could be found by the enraged multitude ; 
 who, with all the intemperance of popular agitation, burnt 
 and plundered the houses of such as adhered to the gov- 
 ernment. It is true, these outrages were committed by 
 the lowest of tlie people ; but they were first tolerated, 
 and then encouraged by those of greater respectability 
 and influence. The disaffection appeared to spread. A 
 meeting of deputies from all the settlements was ad- 
 vised by the house of representatives in Massachusetts : 
 and at the time appointed commissioners from that state, 
 and those of Rhode Island, Connecticut, New York, New 
 Jersey, Pennsylvania, the three lower counties on the 
 Delaware, Maryland, and South Carolina, assembled at 
 New York ; and Timothy Ruggles, Esq. of Massachu- 
 setts, being elected president, the following resolutions 
 were passed : 
 
 I. That his majesty's subjects in these colonies owe 
 the same allegiance to the crown of Great Britain, that 
 is owing from the subjects born within the realm ; and 
 all due subordination to that august body, the parliament 
 of Great Britain. II. That his majesty's liege subjects 
 in these colonies are entitled to all the inherent rights 
 and liberties of his natural born subjects within the king- 
 dom of Great Britain. III. That it is inseparably es- 
 sential to the freedom of a people, and the undoubted 
 right of Englishmen, that no taxes be i.nposed upon 
 them, but with their own consent, given personally, or 
 by their representatives. IV. That the people of these 
 colonies are not, and, from their local circumstances, 
 cannot be, represented in the House of Commons in 
 Great Britain. V. That the only representatives of these 
 colonies arc persons chosen therein by themselves ; and 
 that no taxes ever have been, or can be, constitution- 
 ally imposed upon them, but by their representative le- 
 gislatures. VI. That all supplies to the crown being
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 629 
 
 free gifts from the people, it is unreasonable and incon- 
 sistent with tlie spirit of the British constitution, for the 
 people of Great iintain to grant to his majesty the pro- 
 perty of the colonists. VII. That trial by jury is the 
 inherent and invaluable right of every British subject in 
 these colonies. Vlll. That the late act of parliament, 
 entitled, " An Act tor granting and supplying certain 
 Stamp Duties, and other Duties in the British Colonies 
 and Plantations in America," Sec. by imposing taxes on 
 tlic inhabitants of these colonies ; and that the said act, 
 and several other acts, by extending the jurisdiction of 
 the courts of admiralty beyond its ancient limits, have a 
 manifest tendency to subvert the rights and liberties of 
 the colonists. IX. That the duties imposed by several 
 late acts of parliament, from the peculiar circumstances 
 of these colonies, will be extremely burthensome and 
 grievous, and that from the scarcity of specie, the pay- 
 ment of them will be absolutely impracticable. X. That 
 as the profits of the trade of these colonies ultimately 
 centre in Great Britain, to pay for the manufactures 
 which they are obliged to take from thence, they eventu- 
 ally contribute very largely to all supplies granted to 
 the crown. XI. That the restrictions imposed by seve- 
 ral late acts of parliament on the trade of these colonies, 
 will render them unable to purchase the manufactures 
 of Great Britain. XII. That the increase, prosperity, 
 and happiness of these colonies, depend on the full and 
 free enjoyment of their rights and liberties, and an in- 
 tercourse with Great Britain, mutually aflectionate and 
 advantageous. XIII. That it is the right of the British 
 subjects in these colonies to petition the king, or either 
 house of parliament. Lastly, That it is the indispensa- 
 ble duty of these colonies to the best of sovereigns, to 
 the mother country, and to themselves, to endeavour, 
 by a loyal and dutiful address to his majesty, and humble 
 applications to both houses of parliament, to procure the 
 repeal of the " Act for granting and applying certain 
 Stamp Duties," and of all clauses of any other acts of 
 parliament, whereby the jurisdiction of the admiralty is 
 extended as aforesaid, and of the late other acts for the 
 restriction of the American commerce. 
 
 From a careful examination of these resolutions, it 
 will appear that the colonists were desirous at this time 
 to maintain their allegiance to their sovereign, while 
 they stood forth in the defence of their rights ; and that 
 they were even willing to acknowledge the authority of 
 the British parliament in regulating their commerce, 
 while they contended that it was unjust and subversive 
 of all liberty to tax them without their consent. 
 
 It was now perceived by the ministry in Europe, that 
 they must either repeal the obnoxious statutes, or oblige 
 the Americans to submit to them by force of arms. The 
 confederacy against them was general, systematic, and 
 alarming : it was universally agreed that no articles of 
 British manufacture should be imported, and that those 
 which were prepared in the colonies, though both dearer 
 and of worse quality, should be employed in all the set- 
 tlements. Even the ladies, animated with a similar spirit, 
 cheerfully relinquished every species of ornament, which 
 was manufactured m England. The proceedings in the 
 courts of justice were suspended, that no stamps might 
 be used ; and the colonists were earnestly and frequently 
 exhorted by those who took the lead on this occasion, to 
 terminate their disputes by reference. In addition to 
 this, not a few of the people at home espoused the cause 
 of the Americans, openly declaring, that the imposition 
 of a tax upon them, without their consent, was nothing 
 
 else than levying a contribution : and that, if the minis- 
 try persevered in doing so, they would persevere in 
 violating the rights of every British subject. Mr Pitt, 
 whom we have already seen conducting the war against 
 the French in America, with unexampled vigour and 
 success, was now in opposition. He entered warmly 
 into the views of the colonists on the present emergen- 
 cy : and maintained in his place, with all the eloquence 
 for which he was conspicuous, " that taxation is no part 
 of the governing or legislative power; but that taxes 
 are a voluntary gift and grant of the commons alone ;" 
 and he concluded his speech with a motion, that the 
 stamp act be repealed absolutely, totally, ?ind immediately. 
 About this time the celebrated Dr Franklin was exa- 
 mined before the house of commons, and gave it as his 
 opinion, that the tax in question was impracticable and 
 ruinous; asserting, that it had alienated the affections 
 of the colonists from the mother country ; and that they 
 regarded the people of England as conspiring against 
 their liberties, and the parliament as willing to oppress, 
 rather than to assist them. A petition was received 
 from the congress at New York ; and some change hav- 
 ing taken place in the cabinet, the existing administra- 
 tion agreed with Mr Pitt, and the stamp act was repeal- 
 ed, to the universal joy of the Americans. In Virginia 
 in particular, it was resolved by the house of burgesses, 
 that a statue should be erected to his majesty, as an ac- 
 knowledgment of the high sense which they entertain- 
 ed of his attention to the rights and the petitions of his 
 people. 
 
 But though the mmistry had consented to repeal the 
 stamp act, they had not abandoned the purpose of draw- 
 ing a revenue from the colonies in America. They fan- 
 cied likewise, that they had yielded too much by com- 
 plying with the wishes of the settlers : the pride of do- 
 minion was wounded ; and, in order to support the dig- 
 nity of the crown, and the credit of their administration, 
 they published a bill, in which the superiority of Great 
 Britain over her colonies was declared to extend to all 
 cases whatever. The assertion of the right of England, 
 in this instance, greatly diminished the joy which the 
 repeal of the stamp act had occasioned. It was consi- 
 dered by the Americans as a foundation on which any 
 future ministry might oppress them under the sanction 
 of parliamentary authority ; and it had no other effect, 
 than that of rendering them more suspicious of arbitrary 
 designs, and more solicitous to mark, with a jealous eye, 
 the first encroachments of power. 
 
 An opportunity for the exercise of this spirit was not 
 long wanting. An act had been passed by the Rock- 
 ingham administration, for providing the soldiers in the 
 colonies with the necessaries and accommodations which 
 their circumstances might require. But the assemblj 
 of New York explained this act according to their own 
 inclinations ; and asserted, that it was meant to apply to 
 the troops only when they were marching from place to 
 place. The assembly at Boston followed the example 
 of that in New York: they proceeded even farther; and 
 resolved, that the conduct of the governor in issuing 
 money from the treasury, in order to furnish th.e artil- 
 lery with provisions, was unconstitutional and unjust; 
 and that it disabled them from granting cheerfully to 
 the king the aids which his service demanded. These 
 resolutions of the colonists, however, were not approved 
 of in England by many of those who had espoused their 
 interests on other occasions. Their disposition seemed 
 to them now to be, not that of a rational defence of their
 
 630 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 rights am! pi ivilcgcs, but ihat of a systematic opposition 
 to the ruling powers. Ills not easy to discover on what 
 principle this cluvngc ol' sentiment was rested; but it is 
 acknowledged, llial, in consequence of the change, the 
 bill which was introduced by Mr Townshend, the chan- 
 cellor of the exchequer, imposing a duty on all tea, pa- 
 per, colours, and glass, imported into the colonies, was 
 passed, (A. D. I76S,) with much less opposition than it 
 would otherwise have experienced. And in order to 
 punish the refractory spirit of the assemblies, the legis- 
 lative power was taken from that of New York, till it 
 should comply with the requisitions of the parent state. 
 The act for imposing the new taxes was received 
 with greater aversion than the stamp act itself. Letters 
 were sent from Massachusetts to all the other colonics, 
 inveighing against the injustice and tyranny of the Bri- 
 tish legislature ; and aflirming, that the proceedings of 
 the parliament were subversive of liberty, and hostile to 
 the rights of British subjects. They complained loudly 
 of Bamand, their governor; charged him with misre- 
 presenting their conduct; and wrote to the English mi- 
 nistry in their own defence: they declared that he was 
 tmfit to continue in the station which he occupied, and 
 petitioned, with great eagerness, that he might instantly 
 be removed. On the other hand, the governor was or- 
 dered to proceed with vigour; and, shewing no inclina- 
 tion to yield to the people, (o use his utmost endeavours 
 to carry into effect the measures of the crown. A tu- 
 mult took place at Boston, in consequence of the seizure 
 of a vessel, the master of which had neglected to com- 
 ply with the new statutes. The multitude laid violent 
 hands on the officers, and beat them severely ; and hav- 
 ing seized the collector's books, they burnt them in 
 triumph, and patroled the streets without opposition. 
 They attacked the houses of the commissioners of ex- 
 cise, and broke their windows: and such was their vio- 
 lence that they obliged the officers of the revenue to 
 take refuge, first on board the Romney, and afterwards 
 in Castle-William, a fortress situated near the entrance 
 of the harboui-. The governor dissolved tlie assembly. 
 This measure, the last resource of inefficient power, 
 was not followed by the consequences which were ex- 
 pected to result from it. Frequent meetings of the peo- 
 ple were held at Boston, and in the different provinces : 
 a remonstrance was made to the governor; and a peti- 
 tion was transmitted to him, in which he was desired to 
 remove the ships of war from the neighbourhood of the 
 town; a request with which he was neither able nor 
 willing to comply. Every thing now appeared to indi- 
 cate a rupture between the colonies and the parent state. 
 The agent for the provinces was refused admission to 
 the presence of the king. A report was circulated, that 
 troops had been ordered to march into Boston : a dread- 
 ful alarm took place ; and all ranks of men joined in be- 
 seeching the governor, that a general assembly might 
 be convoked. The answer of the governor was, that, 
 by his last instructions from England, he was prevented 
 from complying with the wishes of the people. The 
 inhabitants of Boston, therefore, determined to form a 
 convention ; in which it was resolved, that they should 
 defend their violated rights at the peril of their lives 
 and fortunes ; that as they dreaded a war with France, 
 the people should furnish themselves with arms; and 
 that a committee of their number should meet in 
 the town, in order to correspond with the delegates 
 which might arrive from the other provinces. At the 
 $ame time, they thought it proper to assure the gover- 
 
 nor of their pacific intentions, and requested again that 
 a general assembly might be called: but, after trans- 
 mitting to England an account of their proceedings, and 
 the reasons which had induced them to assemble, they 
 were again refused, and stigmatized with the appella- 
 tion of rebels. 
 
 On the day before the convention rose, two regiments 
 arrived from Great Britain. Their landing was pro- 
 tected by the lleet, which was drawn up with the broad- 
 sides of the vessels opposite the town, with springs on 
 their cables, and every thing ready for action. In con- 
 sequence of these formidable appearances, the troops 
 marched into Boston without any resistance on the part 
 of the inhabitants : and the council having refused to 
 provide them with quarters, the state-house was opened 
 for their reception, by the command of the governor; 
 a step which gave much offence, and exasperated the 
 people to a high degree. The presence of the soldiers, 
 however, had great influence in restraining the excesses 
 of the populace. But the hatred of the colonists towards 
 England was become fixed and unalterable: and the 
 news having reached them, that both houses of parlia- 
 ment, in their address to his majesty, had recommended 
 vigorous measures, in order to force them to obedience, 
 they united in closer association, and resolved to sub- 
 mit to all losses, rather than that of their rights as free 
 men, and as British subjects. 
 
 On the 5th of March, 1770, an affray took place at 
 Boston between the military and some of the inhabitants, 
 in which four persons were killed. The bells were in- 
 stantly rung; the people rushed from the country to 
 the aid of the citizens ; the whole province rose in arms ; 
 and the soldiers were obliged to retire to Castle-Wil- 
 liam, in order to avoid the fury of the enraged multitude. 
 In the mean time, the parliament of Great Britain shew- 
 ed, that it had neither sufficient vigour to compel the 
 Americans to submit, nor sufficient liberality to yield to 
 their remonstrances, and grant what they petitioned so 
 earnestly to obtain. The ministry agreed to take off all 
 the duties which had lately been imposed, except that 
 on tea : but it was predicted by the opposition, that their 
 indulgence would have no good effect, if any duty what- 
 ever were imposed upon the Americans without their 
 consent. What was predicted by the opposition was in 
 the end found to be true. It was resolved, that the tea 
 should not be landed, but sent back to Europe in the 
 same vessels which had brought it; for it was obvious 
 to all, that it would be extremely difficult to hinder the 
 sale, if the commodity should once be received on shore. 
 Accordingly, the people assembled in great numbers at 
 Boston ; forced those to whom it had been consigned to 
 give up their appointments, and to swear that they 
 would abandon them forever: and public tests being 
 agreed upon, those who refused to take them were de- 
 nounced as the enemies of their country. This dispo- 
 sition was not confined to Massachusetts alone : the 
 same spirit appeared in all the colonies ; and the same 
 resolution to defend their rights, by checking the vio- 
 lence of arbitrary power. 
 
 Such was the situation of affairs, when three ships, 
 laden with tea, anived at the port of Boston. The 
 captains of these vessels, alarmed at the menaces of the 
 people, offered to return with their cargoes to England, 
 provided they could obtain the necessary discharges 
 from the merchants to whom the teas had been consign- 
 ed, and likewise from the governor and the officers of 
 the custom-house. But, though afraid to issue orders
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 631 
 
 for landing the tea, the merchants and officers, in con- 
 junction with the governor, rei'uscd to grant the dis- 
 charges, and the sliips were obliged to remain in the 
 harbour. The people, however, apprehensive that the 
 obnoxious commodity would be landed in small quan- 
 tities, if the vessels should contiime in the neighbour- 
 hood of the town, resolved to destroy it at once. For 
 this purpose, they disguised themselves as Indians of 
 the Mohawk nation ; and having boarded the ships dur- 
 ing night, they threw their cargoes into the water, and 
 retired without making any further disturbance. No 
 fewer than three hundred and forty-two chests of tea 
 were lost on this occasion. In other places, the aver- 
 sion of the people was equally gj-eat, though their vio- 
 lence was less conspicuous. At Philadelphia, the pilots 
 were enjoined not to conduct the ships into the river: 
 and at New York, though the governor ordered some 
 of the tea to be landed under the protection of a man of 
 war, he was obliged to deliver it into the custody of the 
 people, who took all possible care that none of it should 
 be sold. 
 
 These troubles w'ere introductory to a general rup- 
 ture. The parliament of England resolved to punish 
 the town of Boston in an exemplary manner, by im- 
 posing a fine upon the inhabitants equal to the value of 
 the tea which had been destroyed; and to shut up their 
 port by an armed force, till their refractory spirit should 
 be subdued : an event which they supposed would take 
 place in a short time, as by the last of these measures 
 their trade would be completely stopped. A general 
 infatuation appears to have seized the parliament; and 
 it was believed by men of every rank and degree, that 
 the Americans would not persevere in resisting the au- 
 thority of Great Britain; or if they should do so, that 
 their resistance would be of no avail. In consequence 
 of this belief, it was likewise determined, that if any 
 person should be indicted for murder in the province 
 of Massachusetts bay, and if it was clear, from evidence 
 given upon oath, that the deed had been committed in 
 the exercise or aid of magistracy, while attempting to 
 suppress the riots; and if it was further probable, that 
 an equitable trial could not be obtained in the colonies ; 
 the persons who were accused might be sent to Europe, 
 in order to be tried before an English jury. Nor was this 
 all : such was the majority in favour of the crown when 
 these resolutions were adopted, that a fourth bill was 
 passed ; by which it was provided, that the government 
 of Canada should be vested in a council, the members 
 of which were to be appointed by the king, and remove- 
 able at pleasure : and the council was to have the exer- 
 cise of every legislative power, except that by which 
 taxes are imposed All these laws were highly offen- 
 sive to the Americans, and exasperated them beyond the 
 possibility of reconciliation. 
 
 In the midst of the tumults occasioned by the late acts 
 of parliament, and especially by the stop which had been 
 put to the trade of Boston, general Gage, the new go- 
 vernor, arrived from England. He removed the assem- 
 bly from Boston in Massachusetts, to Salem, another 
 town of the same province. When the purpose of the 
 governor was communicated to the members, they made 
 no other reply, than that of requesting him to appoint a 
 day for humiliation and prayer; in order to avert the 
 wrath of heaven, which seemed about to inflict its most 
 awful judgments on the American states. Their re- 
 quest was not complied with ; and their final resolutions 
 appear to have been taken. The general court met, by 
 
 the appointment of the governor, at Salem. They de- 
 clared it necessary, that a congress of delegates, from 
 all the provinces, should asseml)lc, to take the affairs of 
 the colonics into their most serious consideration : and 
 they nominated five gentlemen, each of them remarka- 
 ble for his opposition to England, as the representatives 
 of the people in the division of INIassachusetls, to which 
 they belonged. They recommended it to the whole 
 province to abandon the use of tea; and urged the ne- 
 cessity of giving all the encouragement in their power 
 to the manufactm-es of America. In the mean time, 
 the governor, having learnt what their proceedings 
 were, sent an officer to dissolve the assembly in tlie 
 king's name : but he, finding that the door was shut, 
 and that he could not be admitted, was compelled to 
 read the order of dissolutioji aloud on the stair-case. 
 The inhabitants of Salem, which was now become the 
 metropolis of the colony, appear to have adopted the 
 same spirit with those of Boston. They published a 
 declaration in favour of tiie latter; in which they as- 
 serted, that nature, in forming their harbour, had pre- 
 vented them from becoming their rivals in trade ; and 
 that even if it were otherwise, they would regard them- 
 selves as lost to every ideaof justice, and all feelings of 
 humanity, could they hidulge one thought of seizing 
 upon the wealth of their neighbours, or raising their 
 fortunes on the distresses of their countrymen. The 
 cause of Boston was espoused by the rest of the colo- 
 nies, without exception. The 1st of June, the day on 
 which that city was to be blockaded by the king's ships, 
 was observed in Virginia as a day of fasting and humi- 
 liation; and a public intercession in behalf of the Ame- 
 rican people, was enjoined throughout the province. 
 The style of prayer on this occasion Mas, "that God 
 would give them one heart and mind, firmly to oppose 
 every invasion of American rights." The Virginians, 
 likewise, reconunended a general congress; they de- 
 clared, that if any one of the colonies was taxed without 
 its consent, the rights of the whole were violated ; and 
 that, in the present case, they regarded the injury 
 which was done to the inhabitants of Boston as done to 
 themselves. The provinces of New York and Pennsyl- 
 vania, though the most wavering, were at last fixed in 
 irreconcileable opposition to Great Britain. An univer- 
 sal enthusiasm prevailed. A solemn covenant was form- 
 ed at Boston, in order to suspend all commercial inter- 
 course with England, or her agents, till the obnoxious 
 statutes should be repealed, and the harbour opened: 
 and though general Gage denounced this agreement as 
 illegal, traitorous, and destructive of the peace and safety 
 of the community, the inhabitants retorted the charge 
 of illegality on his own proclamation ; and affirmed that 
 they were permitted by law to assemble, whenever their 
 grievances required that a general meeting should take 
 place. The time when the proclamations of governors 
 were to have any effect had now passed away. At 
 length, on the 4th of Septeinber, A. D. 1774, the first 
 congress of the American states assembled at Phila- 
 delphia: and Peyton Randolph, Esq. late speaker of the 
 house of burgesses in Virginia, was ichosen president, 
 by the unanimous suflPrage of the delegates. To this 
 august body of citizens, met for the highest purposes 
 which can aff"ect the temporal interests of man, the eyes 
 of the people, in all ranks and conditions of life, were 
 turned with anxious concern: nor were the officers and 
 dependents of the crown without alarm, on hearing the 
 news of this important meeting: they dreaded the con-
 
 632 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 sequences ol" tiiat spirit which prevailed among the 
 members, and began to anticipate the result of their de- 
 liberations. The following is a list of the delegates 
 who composed the first congress in America. 
 
 John Sullivan, 
 Nathaniel Folsom, 
 James Bowdoin, 
 Thomas Gushing, 
 Samuel Adams, 
 John Adams, 
 Robert Treat Paine, 
 Stephen Hopkins, 
 Samuel Ward, 
 Eliphalet Dyer, 
 Roger Sherman, 
 Silas Deane, 
 James Duane, 
 Henry Wisner, 
 John Jay, 
 Philip Livingston, 
 Isaac Low, 
 John Alsop, 
 
 William Floyd, 
 
 James Kinsey, 
 William Livingston, 
 John Dehart, 
 Stephen Crane, 
 Richard Smith, 
 Joseph Galloway, 
 Charles Humphreys, 
 Samuel Rhoads, 
 George Ross, 
 John Morton, 
 Thomas Mifflin, 
 Edward Biddle, 
 John Dickinson, 
 Caesar Rodney, 
 Thomas M'Kean, 
 George Read, 
 Robert Goldsborough, 
 Thomas Johnson, 
 William Paca, 
 Samuel Chase, 
 Matthew Tilghman, 
 Peyton Randolph, 
 Richard H. Lee, 
 George Washington, 
 Patrick Henry, 
 Richard Poland, 
 Benjamin Harrison, 
 Edmund Pendleton, 
 William Hooper, 
 Joseph Hughes, 
 Richard Caswell, 
 Henry Middleton, 
 John Rutledge, 
 Thomas Lynch, 
 Christopher Gadsden, 
 Edward Rutledge, 
 
 From New Hampshire. 
 
 *From Massachusetts-bay. 
 
 From Rhode Island, and 
 Providence plantations. 
 
 From Connecticut. 
 
 From the city and county of 
 > New York, and the other 
 counties in the province of 
 New York. 
 
 I From the county of Suffolk, ill 
 i the province of New York. 
 
 *From New Jersey. 
 
 >From Pennsylvania. 
 
 From Newcastle, Kent, and 
 Sussex on Delaware. 
 
 >From Maryland. 
 
 >From Vir 
 
 gmia. 
 
 From North Carolina. 
 
 f 
 
 From South Carolina. 
 
 These men having resolved that each colony should 
 have only one vote, and that their deliberations should 
 take place without the admission of strangers, proceed- 
 ed to the high duty which their countrymen had imposed 
 upon them. 
 
 Tiiey first expressed their approbation of what had 
 been done by the inhabitants of Massachusetts-bay j 
 warmly exhorted them to pei'severance in the cause of 
 freedom ; and voted, that contributions should be made 
 for them in all the provinces, and continued so long, 
 and in such a manner, as theii- circumstances might re- 
 quire. They next addressed a letter to general Gage; 
 in which tliey informed him of their unalterable resolu- 
 tion, to oppose every attempt to carry tlie British acts of 
 parliament into effect ; and entreated him to desist from 
 his militaiy operations, lest a difference altogether irre- 
 concileable should take place between the colonies and 
 the parent state. Their next step was a declaration of 
 their rights, in the shape of resolutions : these resolu* 
 tions were nearly the same with those which the reader 
 will find in a preceding page ; but should he wish for 
 more accurate information, we refer him to Marshall's 
 Li/e of Washington, vol. ii. p. 214, cd. 8vo. 1804, where 
 the resolutions themselves are given in a note, and ex- 
 pressed in the words of the congress. The assembly 
 then proceeded to petition the king, stating the griev- 
 ances under which they laboured; grievances which, 
 they said, were the more intolerable, as the colonies 
 were born the heirs of freedom, and had long enjoyed 
 it under the auspices of former sovereigns : and stating 
 also, that they wished for no diminution ol the preroga- 
 tive, and no privileges, or immunities, except those 
 which were their rightful inheritance as the subjects 
 of Great Britain; concluding the whole with an earnest 
 prayer, that his majesty, as the father of his people, 
 would not permit the ties of blood, of law, and of loyalty, 
 to be broken, in expectation of consequences, which, 
 even if they should take place, would never compen- 
 sate for the sufferings to which they must give rise. 
 The petition to the king was followed by an address to 
 the people of England, conceived with great vigour, and 
 expressed in the most energetic language. "Be not 
 surprised," they say, "that we, who are descended from 
 the same common ancestors, that we, whose forefathers 
 participated in the rights, the liberties, and the consti- 
 tution you so justly boast of, and who have carefully 
 conveyed the same fair inheritance to us, guaranteed 
 by the plighted faith of government and the most 
 solemn compact with British sovereigns, should refuse 
 to surrender them to men, who found their claims on 
 no principles of reason, and who prosecute them with 
 a design, that, by having our lives and property in their 
 power, they may, with the greater facility, enslave you. 
 Are not," they ask, "the proprietors of the soil of Great 
 Britain lords of their own property ? Can it be taken 
 from them without their consent? Will they yield it 
 to the arbitrary disposal of any man, or number of men, 
 whatever? You know they will not. Why, then, ai'e 
 the proprietors of America less lords of their property 
 than you are of yours ? or why should they submit it to 
 the disposal of your parliament, or any other parliament 
 or coimcil in the world not of their own election ? Can 
 the intervention of the sea that divides us cause disparity 
 in rights ? or, can any reason be given, why English 
 subjects, who live three thousand miles from the royal 
 palace, should enjoy less liberty than those who are 
 three hundred miles distant from it ? Reason looks 
 with indignation on such distinctions, and freemen can 
 never perceive their propriety." This address was 
 succeeded by a memorial to their constituents ; in which 
 they applaud them for the spirit which they had shown 
 in the defence of their rights; enjoin them to perse-
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 6n (-• 
 
 vcfe in abstaining from the use of every thing manu- 
 factured or prepared in England ; and liint at the neces- 
 sity of looking forward to melancholy events, and of 
 being ready for every contingency which might take 
 place. 
 
 The inclinations of the people were in exact agree- 
 ment with the decisions of the congress. The iniiabit- 
 ants of Boston were supplied by contributions from all 
 quarters. Even those, who, by their situation, appeared 
 the most likely to derive advantages from the cessation 
 of their trade, were most forward to relieve them in their 
 distress ; and the people of Rlarblehead, a town at no 
 great distance, generously offered them the use of their 
 harbour, and of their wharfs and warehouses, free of all 
 expense. Every one who could procure arms was dili- 
 gent in learning how to use them. The whole country 
 of the Massachusetts seemed ready to rise. In the 
 mean time, British troops assembled in greater numbers 
 at Boston ; and general Gage thought it prudent to for- 
 tify the neck of land which joins that city to the conti- 
 nent. He also seized the magazines of gunpowder, 
 ammunition, and military stores, at Cambridge and 
 Charlestown ; and thus, by depriving the colonists for a 
 time of the means of annoying him, he rendered them 
 less able to carry their designs into execution. An as- 
 sembly was called, and its sitting immediately counter- 
 manded ; but the representatives met, notwithstanding 
 the proclamation of the govei'nor; and after waiting a 
 day for his arrival, they voted themselves " a provincial 
 congress." Winter approached ; the people refused to 
 supply the troops either with lodging or clothes ; the 
 select ?nen of Boston obliged the workmen employed in 
 erecting the barracks to desist ; and the merchants of 
 New York declared, that they would " never supply any 
 article for the benefit of men who were sent as the 
 enemies of their country. 
 
 All hope of reconciliation with Britain was now at an 
 end. The provincials took possession of the stores which 
 belonged to the government wherever they were able to 
 secure them ; and at Newport in Rhode Island, the in- 
 habitants carried off no fewer than 40 pieces of cannon, 
 intended for the defence of the place ; alleging, that they 
 seized them in order to prevent them from being used 
 against their liberties and their lives. The assemblies 
 in all the colonies, voted that ammunition should be pro- 
 cured at the general expense ; and it required but little 
 foresight to discover, that a civil war with all its fearful 
 consequences, was about to ensue. 
 
 General Gage having received intelligence, that a 
 number of field pieces were collected at Salem, des- 
 patched a party of soldiers to take possession of them in 
 the name of the king. The people, however, assem- 
 bling in great numbers, prevented the military from ad- 
 vancing to the town, by pulling up a drawbridge which 
 it was necessary for them to pass ; and they returned to 
 the governor without accomplishing their purpose. The 
 next attempt was followed by more interesting conse- 
 quences. The provincials had deposited a large quanti- 
 ty of ammunition and stores at Concord, about 20 miles 
 from Boston ; these general Gage resolved to seize or 
 to destroy ; and with that view he sent a detachment of 
 800 men, under the command of major Pitcairn, and 
 colonel Smith, ordering them to proceed with the ut- 
 most expedition, and with all possible secrecy. But 
 notwithstanding his care, and the alacrity of the soldiers, 
 the provincials had immediate notice of his design ; and 
 when the British troops arrived at Lexington, within 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 five miles of Concord, the militia of the place were 
 drawn up on the parade, and ready to receive them. A 
 skirmish ensuing, several ol the Americans were killed. 
 The rest fled without making any lurlher resistance ; 
 and the detachment proceeding to Concord, destroyed, 
 or look possession of the stores which were there. 
 Having eflected their purpose, the military now began 
 to retire, but the colonists pressing upon them on all sides, 
 they were driven from post to post, till they arrived at 
 Lexington ; where, their ammunition being expended, 
 they must infallibly have been cut off", if lord Percy had 
 not been sent by the governor with a strong party to their 
 assistance. In consequence of this reinforcement, they 
 quitted Lexington, and continued their march towards 
 Boston, which they reached the day after; though not 
 without frequent interruption and very great difficulty. 
 In the affair of Lexington, which has been justly regarded 
 as the commencement of the American war, and in the 
 retreat from that place, the British lost nearly 250 men. 
 
 The colonists elevated with their success in this en- 
 gagement, became more and more fixed in their oppo- 
 sition, and even meditated the total expulsion of the 
 English from Boston. An army of 20,000 men encamped 
 in the neighbourhood of the city : and that force was 
 soon increased by the arrival of the troops from Con- 
 necticut, under general Putman, an officer of great bra- 
 very, and of tried skill in the military art ; but Gage had 
 fortified the town so strongly, that, numerous as they 
 were, the provincials durst not attempt it by assault ; 
 while, on the other hand, the governor was too weak to 
 contend with them in the field. It was not long, however, 
 befoi-e he was able to act on the offensive. A powerful 
 reinforcement arrived from England, under generals 
 Howe, Burgoyne, and Clinton : Martial law was pro- 
 claimed, and pardon was offered to such as would re- 
 turn to their allegiance. On the 16th of June, A. D. 
 1775, the Americans took possession of Bunker's Hill, 
 an eminence which overlooks and commands the town 
 of Boston ; and labouring with incredible diligence and 
 secrecy, they threw up a redoubt, and protected it by 
 means of an entrenchment, before the approach of day 
 enabled the British to discover what they- had done. 
 From this position general Gage thought it necessary 
 to dislodge them. Accordingly, he directed a strong 
 body of men, under the orders of generals Howe and 
 Pigot, to land at the foot of Bunker's Hill, and to pro- 
 ceed with a detachment of the artillery against the Ame- 
 ricans. But the latter having the advantage of the 
 ground, poured upon them such an incessant and deadly 
 fire of musketi'y, that the British were thrown into 
 confusion ; and so many of the officers were killed, that 
 general Howe was left almost alone. Yet though twice 
 repulsed, the king's troops rallied and advanced again 
 towards the fortifications which the provincials had 
 erected. The redoubt was now attacked on tlu-ee sides 
 at once ; the ammunition of the colonists began to fail ; 
 and the British pressing forward, the Americans were 
 constrained to abandon the post, and to retreat in the 
 face of the enemy over Charlestown Neck ; where they 
 were exposed to a galling fire from the ships in the har- 
 bour. In this battle, the town of Charlestown, which is 
 separated from Boston by a narrow sheet of water, was 
 reduced to ashes by the orders of general Pigot, who was 
 saved by that measure, as well as by the arrival of gene- 
 ral Clinton, from the ignominy of a defeat. 
 
 Though the victory in the attack at Bunker's Hill was 
 justly claimed by the royalists, it was not gained with- 
 4 L
 
 634 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 out considerable lobs on tlieir pait. The flower of ihe 
 English troops in America were engaged, and their kill- 
 ed and wounded amounted to 1054 ; while those ol the 
 provincials were not above the half of that number. But 
 while the colonists suft'ered a defeat in this encounter, 
 they were elated in no ordinary degree at the intrepidity 
 which their forces had displayed ; and they entertained 
 the hope that patriotism and an ardent love of freedom 
 would enable them to withstand the assaults of the Brit- 
 ish, till experience should render them equal to them in 
 discipline and military skill. 
 
 They erected fortifications on the heights in the 
 neighbourhood ol Charlestown, and reduced the king's 
 troops in Boston to very great distress, for want of pro- 
 visions. Far from entertaining any thought of submis- 
 sion, they redoubled their exertions, and increased their 
 vigilance. In the mean time, the congress, which had 
 again been assembled acted with all the decision which 
 was expected from them: they drew up articles of per- 
 petual union ; they published a declaration, in which they 
 justified the measures which had been adopted at Bun- 
 ker's Hill ; they resolve d to establish an army, and to is- 
 sue a large quantity of paper money iii order to support 
 it. They held a solenm conference with the Indians, by 
 whom they were surrounded ; telling them that the 
 English had begun the war with a view to enslave them, 
 as well as their own countrymen in America ; and by 
 this, in conjunction with other arguments, they induced 
 many of the savage tribes either to assist them, or to 
 remain neuter during a great part of the contest which 
 followed. 
 
 The provincials now wanted nothing but a leader to 
 enable them to take effectual measures against the Bri- 
 tish ; and they soon found, in the person of George 
 Washington, a man qualified in every respect to occupy 
 that high and important station. He was the third son 
 of Augustine Washington, a settler in Virginia. His 
 education was limited to what could be obtained from 
 books written in the English language ; but he derived 
 from nature, a mind of extraordinary capacity ; and was 
 endowed with prudence, courage, and perseverance, be- 
 yond the degree which is allotted to common men. At 
 the age of nineteen, he held the rank of major in the 
 provincial troops of Virginia. He afterwards distin- 
 guished himself against the French, in their attempts to 
 unite their possessions in Canada with those in Louisi- 
 ana ; and had the command of a regiment about the same 
 time. At the conclusion of the war, which terminated 
 in the surrender of Canada to the British, he retired to 
 his estate of Mount Vernon, and devoted himself to agri- 
 cultural employments ; till the troubles in which the 
 Americans were involved led him to take an active part 
 in their defence against the attempts of the English ca- 
 binet, to lax them without their consent. Hewaschosena 
 member of the first grand Congress at Philadelphia, 
 where his example and influenceproduced very consider- 
 able effects ; and now that the situation of the provincials 
 called for a man of tried firmness, and approved judg- 
 ment, he was unanimously elected, " general and com- 
 mander in chief of the army of the United Colonies." 
 When Iiis appointment was intimated to him by the pre- 
 sident of the congress, he modestly observed, that he was 
 not equal to the duties of the station to which their par- 
 tiality had raised him ; but he declared at the same time, 
 that he was ready to exert whatever talents he might 
 have, in the service of his country, and willing to enter 
 immediately on the performance of his duty. 
 
 On arriving at Cambridge, the head-quarters of the 
 American army, general Washington inspected and re- 
 viewed the troops. He found them animated with 
 great zeal, and prepared to follow him to the most des- 
 perate undertakings ; but it was not long before he per- 
 ceived, that they were unacquainted with suborduiatioHj 
 and strangers to military discipline. The spirit of 
 liberty, which had brought them together, showed itself 
 in all their actions. In the province of Massachusetts, 
 the officers had been chosen by the votes of the soldiers, 
 and felt themselves in no degree superior to them. The 
 congressional and colonial authorities likewise interfered 
 with one another. The troops were scantily supplied 
 with arms and ammuniiion ; and all their operations 
 were retarded by the want of engineers. These diffi- 
 culties, however, were overcome by the talents and per- 
 severance of Washington ; he formed the soldiers into 
 brigades, and accustomed them to obedience ; he re- 
 quested the congress to nominate a commissary -general, 
 a quarter-master-general, and a paymaster-general, all 
 of which officers they had neglected to appoint ; a num- 
 ber of the most active men were constantly employed in 
 learning to manage tlie artillery ; and such were the ef- 
 forts of the commander in chie|", that in no veiy long 
 time, the army was completely organized and fit for ser- 
 vice. 
 
 It was not the temper of Washington to remain inac- 
 tive. His troops were speedily and regularly encamped 
 before the town of Boston ; and occupied a space of 
 ground nearly twelve miles in length. The English 
 were strongly entrenched on Bunker's Hill, and Rox- 
 bury Neck ; and defended by the floating batteries in 
 Mystic river, and a ship of war that lay between Boston 
 and Charlestown. The American general determined, 
 after a long blockade, to force general Howe, who had 
 succeeded general Gage in the chief command, either 
 to meet the provincials in the field, or to evacuate Bos- 
 ton ; and with this intention he opened his batteries on 
 the east and west sides of the town, (March 2. A. D. 
 1776,) and continued the bombardment without inter- 
 ruption. Howe, finding that the place was no longer 
 tenable, resolved, if possible, to drive the colonial troops 
 from their works. A vigorous attack was meditated on 
 Dorchester Neck, which they had fortified with great 
 care, and every thing was in readiness, when a dreadful 
 storm prevented the British from making the attempt ; 
 and next day it was thought advisable to desist from it 
 altogether. Nothing remained, therefore, but to eva- 
 cuate the town. The Americans, however,did not annoy 
 the English m their retreat, as they knew that it was in 
 their power to reduce the place to ashes ; a loss, which 
 the labour of many years, and the profits of the most 
 successful trade, could not easily have repaired. For 
 this reason, they allowed them to embark with great 
 deliberation ; and to take with them whatever might 
 be thought necessary for their voyage, together with as 
 many of the inhabitants as chose rather to leave their 
 country than expose themselves to the consequences of 
 their attachment to the royal cause. After remaining 
 for some time in Nantasket road, the whole fleet set 
 sail ; and the army of the Americans proceeded in 
 divisions to New York, which Washington supposed to 
 be the place to which the English were gone. 
 
 During these transactions at Boston, events, of con- 
 siderable importance took place inotherparts of America. 
 The fortresses of Crown Point and Ticonderoga having 
 been occupied by the provincials some time before, the
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 fi35 
 
 reduction of Canada appeared to be more obvious and 
 easy. Three hundred men, under the command of gen- 
 erals Schuyler andiMontgomcry, were sent by the orders 
 of the Congress into that country, where they were op- 
 posed by the English general Carleton, an officer of 
 much experience and activity. The provincials laid 
 siege to St John's, and the British commander made 
 haste to relieve the place. But he was attacked liy the 
 provincials with a superior force while yet on his march, 
 and, being utterly defeated, was compelled to retire to 
 Quebec. The garrison of St John's surrendered them- 
 selves prisoners of war : Montreal was taken by general 
 Montgomery : Arnold penetrated into Canada with a 
 strong body of Americans during all the severity of win- 
 ter ; and after uniting his forces with those of Mont- 
 gomery, he endeavoured to take Quebec by surprise. 
 But after a desperate engagement, in which Montgomery 
 was killed, together with the best part of his officers, 
 the provincials were overpowered, and forced to abandon 
 the attempt. Arnold, having removed to some distance 
 from Quebec, was enabled, by the kindness of the peo- 
 ple, to indure the hardships of an encampment in the 
 midst of winter, and under a climate, to the rigour of 
 which his soldiers were but little accustomed. Not- 
 withstanding his defeat, he was created a brigadier, by 
 the unanimous voice of the Congress. General Sullivan 
 then took the command of the provincial troops : the 
 Americans were defeated with great loss at the Three 
 Rivers, and were finally obliged to retire from Canada. 
 
 In Virginia, tlie war was carried on with great ac- 
 tivity, and was in general favourable to the American 
 interest. 
 
 After all attempts towards a reconciliation with Great 
 Britain appeared to be fruitless, the Congress proceeded 
 in full assembly to renounce their allegiance to the 
 sovereign of that country, and to declare that the United 
 Colonies were independent of all authority in Europe. 
 The following is the conclusion of the declaration, which 
 was published on this occasion. It is at once firm, 
 temperate, and solemn. " We, the representatives of 
 the United States of America, in general Congress as- 
 sembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the World, 
 for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the name and 
 by the authority of the people in these colonies, solemnly 
 publish and declare, that these United Colonies are, 
 and of right ought to be, free and independent states ; 
 that they are absolved from all allegiance to the Bri- 
 tish crown ; that all political connection between them 
 and the state of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally 
 dissolved ; and that, as free and independent states, they 
 have full power to levy war, conclude peace, contract 
 alliances, establish commerce, and do all other acts and 
 things which independent states may of right do. And, 
 for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance 
 on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually 
 pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sa- 
 cred honour." 
 
 After this declaration of independence, the Americans 
 had to struggle with great difficulties in supporting 
 their pretensions. The king's standard was erected in 
 North Carolina, by Colonel M'Donald; and Charles- 
 ton, the capital of South Carolina, was furiously at- 
 tacked by a fleet from England. M'Donald, however, 
 being met by the provincial general Moore, was totally 
 defeated by that officer ; and the bombardment from the 
 ships, though violent and continued for along time, pro- 
 duced no great effect upon the town. 
 
 But as the chief part of tlie colonial troops was as- 
 sembled in the division of New York, under Washing- 
 ton, their commander, and as that province was most 
 accessible by sea, the English lesolved to make an at- 
 tempt upon it with all their forces. Si.\ ships of the 
 line, and thirty frigates, with many smaller vessels, com- 
 posed the fleet. It was under tlie orders of lord Howe, 
 who had arrived from Europe some time before, and 
 the land army was commanded by sir William Howe, 
 his brother. Soon after his appearance off the coast, 
 lord Howe sent a letter to the American commander in 
 chief, addressed to " George Washhigton, Esq." but the 
 general refused to open it, as the address was not in a 
 style corresponding to the dignity of the situation 
 which he held. Another letter was sent directed to 
 " George Washington, Sec. &c. &c." but this also was 
 refused. " It did not acknowledge," he said, " the 
 public character with which he was invested by the 
 Congress, and in no other character would he have any 
 intercourse with his lordship." The communication, 
 however, to which these letters gave rise, afforded the 
 British an opportunity of exerting themselves in order 
 to effect a reconciliation. With this view, the American 
 general was informed, that lord Howe was invested 
 with full powers to receive the submission of the co- 
 lonists, and to reinstate them in the favour of their law- 
 ful sovereign ; but Washington declared, that these 
 powers appeared to consist in nothing but granting par- 
 dons ; and that as the provincials, in defending their 
 rights, had been guilty of no crime, they required no 
 forgiveness. 
 
 Both sides, therefore, prepared to terminate their 
 disputes by arms ; and hostilities began as soon as the 
 English troops were collected at their appointed stations. 
 The character of the forces which were now about to 
 engage was very different. The British were numerous, 
 regularly disciplined, and accustomed to military opera- 
 tions ; while the Americans were inferior in numbers, 
 and inexperienced, newly imbodied, and not well pro- 
 vided with artillery and ammunition. Washington 
 marked the condition of his army with very great con- 
 cern. It amounted to no more than 18,000 effective 
 men ; while that of the English was nearly 25,000, strong. 
 As the American government had no established re- 
 venue, and as the sources of their commerce were com- 
 pletely dried up, the difficulties which the general had 
 to encounter were such as no human ability and perse- 
 verance could easily surmount. " These things," said 
 he in a letter to the Congress, "are melancholy, but they 
 are nevertheless true. I hope for better. Under every 
 disadvantage, my utmost exertions shall be employed to 
 bring about the great end we have in view ; and so far 
 as I can judge from the professions and apparent dis- 
 position of my troops, I shall have their support. The 
 superiority of the enemy, and the expected attack, do 
 not seem to have depressed their spirits. These con- 
 siderations lead me to think, that though the appeal to 
 arms may not terminate so happily as I could wish, yet 
 the enemy will not succeed in their views without con- 
 siderable loss. Any advantage they may gain, I trust 
 will cost them dear." 
 
 Notwithstanding the difficulties which Washington 
 had to encounter, he maintained his positions, and 
 availed himself of every circumstance which might en- 
 courage his troops or improve their discipline. He ani- 
 mated them by his exhortations and e^nniple ; he told 
 them that the day was approaching which would decide 
 4 L 2
 
 636 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 whether the American people were to be freemen or 
 slaves ; and he informed them, that the happiness of 
 myriads, yet unborn, depended on their courage and 
 conduct. He promised rewards to tliose wiio should 
 disluiguish themselves by acts of extraordinary bra- 
 very, and threatened such as were doubtful or dilatory 
 with the utmost severity of punishment, if they should 
 desert the cause in which they were engaged. The 
 time was at hand when the effect of these exhortations 
 was to be ascertained. In the month of August, A. U. 
 1776, the English made a descent upon Long Island, 
 with forty pieces of cannon, and under cover of their 
 ships. On a peninsula, formed by the East River and 
 Cowan's Cove, and constituting part of the same island, 
 lay Putnam, the American general, strongly fortified, 
 and waiting the approach of the king's troops. Between 
 the armies there was a range of hills, the principal pass 
 through which was near a place called Flat Bush. At 
 this place, the Hessians, forming the centre of the Roy- 
 alists, took their station. The left wing, under the or- 
 ders of general Grant, was close upon the shore, and the 
 right commanded by general Clinton, earl Percy, and 
 lord Cornwallis, and comprehending the chief strength 
 of the British forces, approached the opposite coast of 
 Flat Land. Putnam had directed that all the passes 
 should be secured by strong detachments of the provin- 
 cial troops. The orders to this purpose, though not dis- 
 obeyed, were not complied with to the extent which that 
 general required ; and one road through the hills, of the 
 utmost importance, was entirely neglected : an oversight 
 which was speedily communicated to the British, and 
 which they were too wise not to improve to their ad- 
 vantage. On the evening of the 26th, general Clinton 
 drew ofl" the right wing of the English army, in order 
 to gain the heights. Nearly about day-break, he reached 
 the pass vuidiscovered by the enemy, and immediately 
 took possession of it. The detachment under lord 
 Percy followed ; and when the day appeared, the royalists 
 advanced into the level country between the hills and 
 Brooklyn, a village situated on the peninsula, where the 
 Americans were encamped. Without loss of time, 
 Clinton fell upon the rear of the provincials, and the 
 Hessians attacking them in front at the same instant, 
 neither valour nor skill could save them from a defeat. 
 Inspirited, however, by their generals, and the presence 
 of Washington, they continued the engagement for a 
 while, and fought with all the bravery of men, whom the 
 love of freedom animates to deeds of heroism ; but pres- 
 sed by supeiior numbers, and thrown into confusion, 
 they gave way on every side, and fled with the utmost 
 precipitation to the woods. Nor was this the only part 
 of the army which suffered ; the right wing, engaged 
 with general Grant, experienced a similar fate. And 
 thus, in one fatal day, the Americans lost 4000 of their 
 best troops, and, what was of more value to them, their 
 confidence of success : a confidence which till now had 
 supported them amidst all their sufferings, and had es- 
 tablished in theii' minds a resolution of parting with 
 their liberty only with their lives. In this engagement 
 the British fouglu with extraordinary valour, and their 
 antagonists, though less experienced in the art of war, 
 were equally distinguished by the steadiness of their 
 conduct. Of a regiment consisting of young gentlemen 
 from Maryland, the greater part was cut in pieces, and 
 not one of those who survived had escaped without a 
 wound, 
 
 After the defeat at Brooklyn, and the evacuation of 
 
 Long Island by the Americans, proposals for an accom- 
 modation were made by lord Howe. But as his lordship 
 was not authorised to treat with the congress as a legal 
 assembly, he invited such of its members as were desir- 
 ous of peace to a private conference. To this invitation 
 the congress replied, thai as they were the representa- 
 tives of the free and independent states of America, it 
 was not possible for them to send any of their number, 
 to confer with the English commanders in their indivi- 
 dual capacity ; but that, as it was exceedingly to be wish- 
 ed, that an accommodation should take place, on rea- 
 sonable terms, they would direct a committee to receive 
 the proposals of the British government. Accordingly 
 they nominated for this purpose, the celebrated Dr 
 F'ranklin, Mr J. Adams, and Mr Rutledge, all zealous 
 and faithful hi the cause of liberty. But notwithstand- 
 ing the disposition of lord Howe, which was certainly 
 towards peace, and the late misfortunes of the provin- 
 cial troops, the conference was altogether ineffectual ; 
 his lordship would not acknowledge tlie deputies as the 
 commissioners of a free people ; and the deputies would 
 not treat with him on any other condition. It was re- 
 solved, therefore, on both sides, to prosecute the war 
 with all their vigour and their utmost resources. 
 
 The provincial army under the orders of Washing- 
 ton, was now stationed in the vicinity of New York. 
 They had erected many batteries near the place, and 
 from these they kept up an incessant fire upon the Bri- 
 tish ships. Between the armies lay the East River, 
 which the royalists, for some days, had manifested a de- 
 sire to cross. Accordingly, after the fleet had silenced 
 the American batteries, they landed on the opposite 
 shore, at Kipp's Bay, nearly three miles distant from 
 New Yoik ; and marching rapidly towards the city, they 
 forced the enemy to abandon their works, and to retreat 
 w ith the utmost precipitation. Leaving the town itself, 
 and their baggage, provisions, and military stores, in 
 possession of the British, the Americans withdrew to 
 the northern part of the island, where the chief strength 
 of their forces was collected. Here Washington deter- 
 mined to wait the approach of the king's troops ; and in 
 the mean time, he used every method in his power to 
 restore the courage of his soldiers, and elevate their 
 fallen hopes. He had long ago formed that plan of ope- 
 rations which is usually successful against an invading 
 army; though with the intention of deviating from it as 
 circumstances might require. It was his design at pre- 
 sent not to risk a general engagement, but to harass the 
 English by continual skirmishes, by cutting off their 
 supplies, and exhausting their patience. The object of 
 the British general was exactly the contrary of this; 
 his safety, as well as his success, lay in bringing the 
 Americans speedily to action, and in terminating the 
 war, if possible, by a single blow. The fortune of the 
 royalists was now predominant. In almost every attack 
 the superiority of regular discipline had been shown. 
 Washington had been forced to quit his strong position 
 at Kingsbridge, in New York Island, and had saved his 
 army by retiring towards the main land of Connecticut. 
 He was followed by the English general as soon as the 
 troops could be latided, and the proper reinforcements 
 had arrived. 
 
 After some ineffectual skirmishing, both armies met 
 at a place called the White Plains ; the royalists began 
 the assault, and made such an impression on the Ameri- 
 can lines, that Washington was compelled again to re- 
 treat. He withdrew in good order, and occupied an ad-
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 637 
 
 Tantageous post at a considerable distance from that 
 which lie had just abandoned. But sir William Howe, 
 finding hinisell' unable to bring on a gcnei;il action, re- 
 linquished the pursuit, and employed his troops during 
 the rest ol the campaign, in reducing and taking posses- 
 sion of the forts which the enemy still retained in the 
 vicinity of New York. In this he succeeded to his ut- 
 most wish ; the Jei'seys were laid open to the incursions 
 of the British forces, and if the Americans had not 
 seized the boats, and removed them to a distance, Phi- 
 ladelphia itself must have fallen into the hands of the 
 royal army. 
 
 In other parts of the continent, the success of the 
 British was equally great. Sir Henry Clinton took pos- 
 session of Rhode Island without losing a man. The 
 American licet under commodore Hopkins, was obliged 
 to remain in the river Providence, entirely useless. In 
 Canada, general Burgoyne, who had already distinguish- 
 ed himself against the provincials, and forced them to 
 retreat across Lake Champlain to Crown Point, ordered 
 a number of ships to be built ; and, attacking those of 
 the republicans, commanded by Arnold, defeated them 
 with great slaughter ; compelling them to run their 
 vessels ashore, and to set them on fire. The conse- 
 quence of this disaster was, that the garrison of Crown 
 Point, having destroyed or carried oif their provisions 
 and military stores, retired to Ticonderoga. 
 
 In the midst of these calamitous events, the spirit of 
 Washington remained unbroken. Though his soldiers 
 had deserted him in great numbers, and though Lee, 
 one of the ablest of the provincial generals, had been 
 taken prisoner, he never despaired of success. He had 
 frequently written to the congress, and represented to 
 that body, the condition of his army. It was originally 
 composed of a loose militia, and of volunteers from the 
 different provinces, once full of patriotism, and eager to 
 engage; but now, dispirited by misfortune, and ready to 
 abandon their general on the first appearance of the 
 king's troops. In addition to this, the time, during which 
 the militia were bound to serve, had almost expired. 
 The congress, therefore, determined to recruit the ar- 
 my, by offering a bounty in land to all those who would 
 enrol their names, and pledge themselves to continue in 
 the field during the remainder of the war. Their efforts 
 were nobly seconded by the zeal and activity of the com- 
 mander in chief He kept his troops constantly em- 
 ployed ; and being successful in many of the skirmishes 
 in which they were engaged, and reinforced by niun- 
 bers of their countrvmen, the soldiers began to resume 
 their wonted courage, and to be animated with better 
 hopes. When the English approached Philadelphia, 
 the American general had thrown himself into that 
 city, and strengthened it by every method in his power. 
 The royal army now lay in cantonments at some distance 
 from the place ; they occupied a great extent of coun- 
 try, and one of the divisions, consisting of the Hessians 
 in the king's service, was stationed at Trenton, about 
 thirty miles from the American capital. This division 
 Washington resolved to attack, and, if possible, to sur- 
 prise. Accordingly, he put himself at the head of a 
 body of his troops; and marching all night, and with 
 the utmost expedition which the roads would allow, he 
 fell upon the enemy, who had not the slightest intelli- 
 gence of his approach, and routed them with great 
 slaughter. Colonel Rawle, who commanded the royalists 
 in that quarter, did everything which could be expect- 
 ed from an officer at once brave and accustomed to mili- 
 
 tury operations; but the attack was sudden and impetu- 
 ous, and directed by Washington himself ; the Hesiians 
 gave way on all sides; their artillery was seized, and 
 1000 ol their best tioops remained prisoners of war. 
 
 Some of the colonial reinforcements having at length 
 arrived, the provincial army not only increased in num- 
 ber, but improved in courage and zeal. Emboldened by 
 his success, Washington resolved to leave Philadelphia, 
 and to make another attempt against the British forces. 
 In consequence of this determination, ho advanced with 
 great secrecy towards Maidenhead-town, situated be- 
 tween Trenton and Princeton, where three regiments, 
 under colonel Mawhood, had taken post ; and, attacking 
 the royalists on their march, he threw them into confu- 
 sion, and obliged them to retreat with considerable loss. 
 The British troops, astonished at the exertions of the 
 American commander, whose affairs they supposed to 
 be desperate, withdrew towards Brunswick ; in order to 
 prevent that town, and the stores which it contained, 
 trom falling into the hands of the provincial army. 
 Washington lost no lime in availing himself of their 
 retreat. He divided his troops into small bodies, which, 
 though dispersed over an extensive country, could be 
 united without difficulty ; and, by his activity, vigilance, 
 and skill, he soon regained possession of all the impor- 
 tant places. 
 
 Thus terminated the campaign of 1776, and not alto- 
 gether unfavourably to the American interest: for 
 though the provincial troops had often been worsted, 
 and still more frequently obliged to retreat, yet they 
 prosecuted their design of harassing the enemy with 
 great success; and, while the royalists kept possession 
 of New York, they were constrained to act with as 
 much circumspection, as if Washington and the whole 
 force of the colonists had besieged them in that city. 
 
 The next campaign opened with considerable indica- 
 tions of vigour on the part of sir W'illiam Howe. After 
 a number of predatory excursions, in which some forts 
 were reduced, and magazines destroyed, that general 
 resolved to make an attempt on Philadelphia. It was at 
 first thought that lli»s could be done by marching through 
 the Jerseys; but Washington, now in possession of the 
 open country, and strongly reinforced, had taken his 
 measures so eff"ectually, that it was declared to be im- 
 practicable. It was therefore determined to approach 
 Philadelphia by sea. The expedition, led by the I3ritish 
 general in person, sailed on tlie 23d of July from Sandy 
 Hook ; on the 29th, the ti'oops arrived at the mouth of 
 the Delaware; but having" received intelligence, that 
 the navigation of that river was effectually obstructed, 
 they proceeded to Chesapeak bay, in Maryland, from 
 which they could in a short time reach the capital of 
 Pennsylvania. At length, sailing up the Elk as far as 
 was practicable, the royal army, to the number of 18,000 
 effective men, landed without opposition. On the news 
 of their arrival in the Chesapeak, Washington gave im- 
 mediate orders for all the colonial troops to join hint 
 without delay ; and advanced, by rapid marches, to check 
 the progress of Howe. His exertions, however, for that 
 purpose, were not effectual; and it was perceived, that 
 a battle, which would decide the fate of the American 
 capital, was imavoidalile. The royal army had pushed 
 forward towards the Brandywine, on the opposite side of 
 which the provincials were stationed ; the river was foi- 
 dable, and could therefore present no effective obstacle 
 to a general engagement. This was ardentlv sought by 
 the English commander; and, in his present ciucum-
 
 638 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 stances, it was not avoided by Washington. On the 
 morning of the 1 Uh of September, tlie king's troops 
 advanced towards Chadd's Ford ; various manosuvres 
 JUid skirmishing there took place, and with varied suc- 
 cess; till about four in the evening, when the action be- 
 gan between the main strength of the contendhig forces. 
 The right wing of the Americans was thrown into con- 
 fusion at the very commencement of the attack ; and, 
 before Washington could lead his battalions to its sup- 
 port, the whole line gave way ; the rout became gene- 
 ral, and night alone saved the provincials from a total 
 defeat. 
 
 This victory, on the part of the British, opened their 
 way to Philadelphia. Accordingly, a short time after it 
 was gained, sir William Howe look possession of that 
 city; but the troops, during their march, were incessant- 
 ly annoyed by Washington ; who hung upon their rear, 
 cut ofi" their detached parties, and showed them, that 
 though he had been compelled to retreat, he was not 
 overcome. In the whole conduct of this extraordinary 
 man, we are forced to admire the prudence, persever- 
 ance, and activity which marked his character. He had 
 been repulsed in almost every attack, where a large body 
 of the provincials had been engaged with the enemy ; 
 his troops had deserted him m great numbers, and on 
 the most important occasions; and lie had frequently 
 been distressed by the want of military stores ; yet, not- 
 withstanding these adverse circumstances, he made head 
 against an army of regular troops, commanded by a 
 general of acknowledged ability, well disciplined, and 
 provided with all the means of successful warfare. No 
 sooner had the English general taken possession of Phi- 
 ladelphia with a part of his forces, and stationed the rest 
 at Cermantown, than Washington formed the resolution 
 of attacking the division at the latter place. In this at- 
 tempt, also, he was unfortunate ; the British had early 
 notice of his approach; and he was obliged to retire 
 with very considerable loss. But such was his uncon- 
 querable spirit, and so firm his conviction, that the mea- 
 sures which he pursued would at length bring the war 
 to a favourable issue, that, in his letters to the congress, 
 he exhorted them to perseverance ; and rejected every 
 offer towards an accommodation, but that which acknow- 
 ledged the independence of the United States. The 
 English general, now in possession of Philadelphia, 
 employed himself for some time in taking or destroying 
 the forts on the Delaware. The principal of these were 
 Mud-island and Red-bank. Aided by three ships of 
 the line, and well supported by the officers who executed 
 his commandes, he speedily reduced the forts ; and many 
 of the ships belonging to the provincials either fell into 
 his hands, or were driven ashore and burnt by their 
 possessors. 
 
 In the northern provinces, the campaign wore an as- 
 pect less friendly to the royal interests. An expedition 
 to New England had been projected by the ministry in 
 Europe, as the most effectual scheme for reducing the 
 colonies to obedience. An army of 7&00 chosen troops 
 had been put under the orders of general Burgoyne : 
 these were to be assisted by levies from Quebec ; and 
 means were \ised to engage the Indians of Canada in 
 the service of Great Britain. The first attempts of 
 Burgoyne were as successful as the condition of his 
 army entitled the ministry to expect. The Indians, 
 gained by presents, or stimulated by the hope of plun- 
 der, joined him in considerable bodies; and to the ho- 
 nour of the British commander, we must add, that, in 
 
 his first address to those new allies, he exhorted them 
 to kill none but such as appeared in arms against them, 
 and to spare the women and children, whom the fortune 
 of war might put into their hands. On the 2d of July, 
 the English army encamped on both sides of Lake Cham- 
 plain, at a short distance from Ticondcroga. To this 
 strong fortress the Americans had retired at the end of 
 the preceding year; and now it was garrisoned with 
 about 6000 men, and defended by the provincial general 
 St Clair. The approaches of the British were rapid and 
 decisive. Soon after their appearance before the Ame- 
 rican works, they took possession of Sugar-hill ; an emi- 
 nence which overlooked the fortifications, and enabled 
 them to place their batteries to great advantage, but 
 which the enemy had imagined it was impossible to as- 
 cend. On the 5th, every step had been taken in order 
 to render the investment complete. St Clair, however, 
 conscious of his inability to defend the place, and anxious 
 at the same time to prevent the troops which he com- 
 manded from surrendering themselves prisoners of war, 
 abandoned the works, antl retreated over Mount Inde- 
 pendence to Charlestown, and thence to Skeensborough, 
 in the vicinity of Lake George. Previous to his depar- 
 ture, he had ordered the baggage and military stores to 
 be sent by water to the same place ; but the vessels 
 which were employed for that purpose were attacked by 
 the English ships, and either captured or rendered unfit 
 for service : and, in consequence of this disaster, the 
 Americans set fire to their boats and fortifications at 
 Skeensborough. On land the royalists were equally 
 successful ; colonel Francis, and a body of the provincial 
 troops, were defeated with great slaughter by general 
 Reidesel; and, by the skilful manoeuvres of Burgoyne, 
 St Clair was prevented from reaching Fort Anne. An 
 engagement then took place in the woods, in which the 
 Americans were routed, and compelled to retire to Fort 
 Edward on the Hudson. 
 
 The loss of Ticonderoga was one for which the Uni- 
 ted States were not prepared, and which was severely 
 felt through all the colonies. Neither the strength of 
 the invading army, nor the weakness of the garrison, 
 appears to have been understood. It was universally 
 believed, that the whole force of Canada did not amount 
 to 6000 men; and, therefore, no adequate measures had 
 been taken, in order to enable St Clair and the troops 
 under his command, to resist such an army as advanced 
 against them. Of the indistinct information which had 
 been transmitted to him, and its fatal consequences, 
 Washington complains in a letter, addressed at this 
 time to general Schuyler; but, while he laments the 
 successes of the British, and the misfortunes of his 
 countrymen, he hopes for better days, and inculcates 
 the necessity of more active exertions. " The evacua- 
 tion of Ticonderoga and Mount Independence," says he, 
 " is an event of chagrin and surprise ; not apprehended, 
 nor within the compass of my reasoning. This stroke 
 is severe indeed, and has distressed us much. But, not- 
 withstanding things at present wear a dark and gloomy 
 aspect, I hope a spirited opposition will check the pro- 
 gress of general Burgoyne's arms; and that the confi- 
 dence derived from success, will hurry him into mea- 
 sures that will, in their consequences, be favourable to 
 us. We should never despair. Our situation has be- 
 fore been unpromising, and has changed for the better: 
 so, I trust, it will again. If new difficulties arise, we 
 must only put forth new exertions ; and proportion our 
 eflbrts to the exigency of the times."
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 639 
 
 It soon appeared, that the hopes of the American 
 general were not entertained without a reasonable foun- 
 dation. Burgoyne, elated with his success, and hitherto 
 uninstructed by adverse fortune, proceeded with great 
 osteatation of zeal and activity to finish the campaign. 
 After waiting at Skecnsborough ior the arrival of tents 
 and provisions, and spending a long time hi clearing the 
 ground, in order to facilitate the passage of his troops, 
 he reached Fort Edward, about the end of July. In the 
 interval aftbrded by this delay, general Schuyler recruit- 
 ed the shattered Ijattalions of the Americans, and, uni- 
 ting the parties wiiich were stationed in different quar- 
 ters, convinced the British that much was still to be 
 done. The >oyal army now suffered greatly from the 
 want of provisions. They had attempted to seize the 
 magazines at Bennington ; but the detachments under 
 colonels Baum and Breynian, who were employed for 
 that purpose, were utterly defeated by general Starke, 
 to whom the defence of the place was entrusted. The 
 expedition on the Mohawk river, undertaken by colonel 
 St Leger, had likewise failed. Notwithstanding these 
 misfortunes, however, Burgoyne, fatally for the cause in 
 which he was engaged, continued to advance; and hav- 
 ing collected with great care and indefatigable exertion, 
 provisions for thirty days, he encamped on the heights 
 and plains of Saratoga; resolved to decide by one vigor- 
 ous eflbrt the fortune of the campaign. On the 17th of 
 September, the English army was only four miles dis- 
 tant from that of the provincials, commanded by general 
 Gates. This officer, leaving his camp in the islands, had 
 been joined by all the troops destined for the northern 
 provinces; and, marching towards Stillwater with the 
 utmost despatch, shewed no inclination to avoid an en- 
 gagement. Accordingly, when the British appeared, 
 without waiting for the assault, he attacked their centre, 
 while Arnold, who commanded on the left of the pro- 
 vincials, made head against the right of the enemy; a 
 fierce encounter then ensued ; and had not the artillery 
 arrived during the hottest of the action, and checked the 
 Americans, the discipline of the British must have 
 yielded to the valour and impetuosity of the colonial 
 troops. In this battle, the royalists lost only SOO men, 
 while 1500 of their antagonists were either killed or 
 wounded; yet the English generals were astonished at 
 the resolution which the Americans had displayed, and 
 began to anticipate, with sorrow, the final issue of their 
 exertions. 
 
 The condition of the army under Burgoyne was now 
 almost desperate. Their stock of provisions was nearly 
 exhausted ; the Indians, their allies, who had marked 
 the service with bloodshed and cruelty, withdrew from 
 them in great numbers, and, to complete the mortifica- 
 tions of the general, he had received no intelligence 
 from Clinton, whose assistance or co-operation he had 
 long expected. After some days, however, a letter from 
 that officer arrived, informing Burgoyne, that he intend- 
 ed to make a diversion in his favour: but, as this aid 
 was distant and dubious, the communication of the design 
 had little eft'ect in raising the spirits of the soldiers, or 
 animating their general with confidence. 
 
 In their present distressful circumstances, it was ob- 
 vious, that nothing but a victory could save the royalists 
 from the ignominy of surrendering at discretion. Ac- 
 cordmgly, on the 7th of October, the English general 
 moved with his whole strength towards the camp of 
 the provincials. His design was quickly perceived by 
 Gates, the American commander, who resolved to at- 
 
 tack him witliout loss of time: the assault was impetu- 
 ous and bloody; but the English, resisting for a while, 
 at last gave way, and Eraser, one of their ablest gene- 
 rals, was killed on the spot. Arnold pressed hard on 
 the right, where Burgoyne commanded in person ; and 
 though the king's troops in that quarter displayed their 
 wonted courage, the British were compelled to retreat, 
 and, with the utmost difficulty, regained their camp. 
 They were pursued to their entrenchments by Arnold, 
 and furiously assaulted; but that officer having received 
 a dangerous wound at the very moment when his divi- 
 sion was entering the lines, the Americans were forced 
 to retire. On the left, the provincials were still more 
 successful; the Germans were routed with great loss; 
 colonel Breyman fell; and all the artillery and baggage 
 remained in the hands of the colonial army. 
 
 This was the most fatal disaster which the English 
 had experienced since the attack at Bunker's Hill. The 
 number of killed and wounded, both of the Germans 
 and British, was very great; but the chief misfortune 
 was, that the Americans were now enabled so to ar- 
 range their posts, as to inclose the army, and effectually 
 to prevent their escape. There was only one road by 
 which it was possible for them to retreat. It was, there- 
 fore, resolved to repair the bridges on the way to Fort 
 Edward ; to decamp suddenly, and march towards that 
 place in the night; and, forcing the passages of the 
 Hudson, to effect an union with sir Henry Clinton, and 
 the troops under his command. It was resolved also, 
 that the baggage should be left, and that the soldiers 
 should carry their provisions attached to their knap- 
 sacks. All these resolutions indicate the extreme ne- 
 cessity to which the British were reduced. The design, 
 however, was found to be impracticable. Intelligence 
 was received, that the Americans had erected strong 
 batteries at the fords ; that they had taken possession of 
 an eminence between Fort Edward and Fort George, 
 from which, it was said, they could annoy the army on 
 their march; that their numbers were daily increasing; 
 and that the fresh troops, as well as their associates, 
 were animated with all the zeal of men, ardent in the 
 cause of freedom, and their country. The state of the 
 royal army, and of its general, was now truly deplorable. 
 Burgoyne himself had projected the expedition ; an 
 officer of tried abilities had been removed to make way 
 for him; and, at the beginning of the campaign, his en- 
 deavours had been followed with success. But a mourn- 
 ful reverse of circumstances had taken place; he was 
 deserted by his allies; his provisions were exhausted; 
 he was enclosed by an enemy, rejoicing in his misfor- 
 tunes, and anticipating his fall. " In these circumstan- 
 ces," says he, in a letter to lord George Germain, "I 
 called a council of all the generals, field officers, and 
 captains commanding corps ; and, by their unanimous 
 concurrence and advice, I was induced to open a treaty 
 with major-general Gates." In consequence of this 
 treaty, the British forces, to the number of 6000 men, 
 laid down their arms ; having pledged themselves not 
 to serve in America during the war, and stipulated, that 
 they should be permitted to return to their native coun- 
 try. Such was the agreement; and to this agreement 
 the congress ought unquestionably to have adhered: 
 but when the transports appeared in the harbour of 
 Boston, and the troops were preparing to embark, the 
 American rulers, suspecting that they might be em- 
 ployed against their interests in other parts of the con- 
 tinent, would not permit them to remove, till the treaty
 
 640 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 should be ratified by the English cabinet. The surren- 
 der of Burgoync led to the immediate evacuation of 
 Ticonderoga and Mount Independence ; and the pro- 
 vincials saw themselves once mure sole masters of the 
 north. 
 
 The congress, however, not satisfied with the exer- 
 tions of the provinces in behalf of their rights, had re- 
 course to the aid of foreign powers. In the beginning 
 of the year 1778, they entered into an alliance with the 
 French ; who, as the rivals of the British, and smarting 
 with the loss of their possessions in Canada, eagerly 
 embraced the proposals of the American States. On 
 the 6th of February, the articles of agreement be- 
 tween the two nations were formally signed. It was 
 declared in these articles, 1. That the principal end of 
 the treaty was, to support, in an efl'ectual manner, the 
 independency of the United Colonies ; 2. That if Great 
 Britain should, in consequence of the treaty, proceed to 
 hostilities against France, the two nations would assist 
 each other as circumstances might require; 3. That if 
 those places in North America, still subject to the Bri- 
 tish crown, should be conquered by the United States, 
 they should either be confederated with thein, or sub- 
 jected to their jurisdiction ; 4. That if any of the islands 
 in the West Indies should be taken by the French, they 
 should be considered as the property of that nation ; 5. 
 That no formal treaty with Great Britain should be con- 
 cluded by the French or Americans, acting separately; 
 and that both paities would continue in arms till the 
 independence of the United States should be acknow- 
 ledged; 6. That such powers of Europe or America, 
 as had received injuries from Great Britain, should be 
 invited to engage in the common cause ; 7. That the 
 United States guaranteed to France all the possessions 
 in the West Indies which she might be able to conquer; 
 and that France, in her turn, guaranteed the uncondi- 
 tional independence of the United States, and their su- 
 preme authority over every country which they possess- 
 ed, or which they might acquire during the continuance 
 of the war. 
 
 When this treaty was notified to the court of London, 
 it produced an immediate declaration of war against the 
 French. The English parliament, in their address to 
 the king, expressed their resolution of adhering to him 
 in all his endeavours to subdue the revolted colonies, 
 and promised to assist him with the whole strength of 
 the empire. The address, however, was not voted with- 
 out a cotisiderable difference of opinion. The mem- 
 bers in opposition loudly affirmed, that the war was 
 equally tyrannical and unjust ; that the ministry, by their 
 ignorance and ill success, had forfeited the confidence 
 of the British nation ; that the Americans were strug- 
 gling for independence, and would at last attain it ; and 
 that every attempt to compel them to obedience would 
 assuredly be fruitless. Of the injustice of the war, 
 from its commencement to the present time, the minis- 
 try themselves, by their wavering and indecisive mea- 
 sures, appear to have been conscious. They now in- 
 troduced into parliament, a bill for reconciling the dif- 
 ferences between the Americans and Great Britain ; 
 and should the terms which they offered be rejected by 
 the United States, they declared their fixed and unal- 
 terable purpose of reducing them to compliance by force 
 of arms. Commissioners were therefore despatched to 
 the congress, in order to communicate to them the pro- 
 posals of the English administration ; but as they ar- 
 rived immediately after the surrender of Burgoyne, and 
 
 the conclusion of the treaty with France, they were 
 received with the utmost indifference, and, in many 
 places, with the utmost contempt. The general an- 
 swer was, that the day of reconciliation was past; and 
 that Great Britain, by her tyruiuiy and haughtiness, had 
 extinguished all filial regard in the breasts of the Ame- 
 rican people. The congress resolved without delay, 
 that, as a political body, they would not receive the com- 
 missioners till their independence was acknowledged; 
 that whoever made a separate agreement with Britain, 
 was an enemy to his country; and that it was the duty 
 of all the States to exert themselves to the utmost in re- 
 cruiting the army, or in adding to the number of its bat- 
 talions. 
 
 In the mean lime, the season for action was approach- 
 ing. While the congress were yet deliberating on the 
 answer which they should give to the proposals from 
 England, sir Henry Clinton, now raised to the chief 
 command, evacuated Philadelphia. On his march from 
 that place, he was followed and harassed by the provin- 
 cial troops, whom Washington had directed to obstruct 
 his progress; but Lee, the American general, having 
 failed in an attempt to seize the baggage of the royalists, 
 they effected their retreat, were conveyed on board the 
 ships, and joined their countrymen at New York. For 
 his misconduct on this occasion, as well as his insolence 
 towards the commander in chief, Lee was afterwards 
 tried by a court martial, and sentenced to a temporary 
 suspension from his office, as a general in the army; a 
 punishment, which, though slight, operated with a pow- 
 erful effect throughout the colonial forces. 
 
 While the British ships were employed in transport- 
 ing the troops from Sandy Hook to New York, intelli- 
 gence was received that a strong fleet, under the or- 
 ders of count D'Estaign, had arrived from France. It 
 consisted of 12 ships of the line, besides frigates, and 
 had 6000 marines, or soldiers, on board. To oppose 
 this force, the British had only six ships of the line, 
 three of 50 guns, and a few vessels of smaller size; yet 
 they posted themselves so advantageously before the 
 entrance into New York, that the French admiral 
 thought it would be hazardous to attack them, and pru- 
 dently declined an engagement. The arrival of foreign 
 succours was the occasion of much joy to the inhabi- 
 tants of the United States. The congress immediately 
 wrote to Washington, instructing him to co-operate 
 with D'Estaign, and authorizing him to employ the 
 militia from New Hampshire to New Jersey, as well as 
 the militia of these provinces, for whatever undertakings 
 he might judge to be necessary. But the success of 
 the allied powers was not equal to the magnitude of 
 their preparations. An expedition was agreed on, and 
 Sullivan, the American general, landed on Rhode Island 
 with 10,000 men, resolved to lay siege to Newport, the 
 capital of that state. But Pigot, to whom sir Henry 
 Clinton had entrusted the defence of the place, had for- 
 tified himself so strongly, that the Americans found it 
 impossible to succeed without the aid of the fleet. 
 D'Estaign, however, shattered by a storm, and dreading 
 the approach of the English admiral, withdrew from the 
 harbour, and sailed for Boston in order to refit. In con- 
 sequence of his departure, Sullivan was obliged to re- 
 tire, and the garrison of Newport rushing forth, and 
 pressing hard upon him, the provincial troops were 
 thrown into confusion, and, with no little difficulty, ac- 
 complished their retreat. The conduct of D'Estaign 
 at Rhode Island gave the highest offence to the people
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 641 
 
 of New England, who did not hcsitalc to express their 
 doubts ol' the admiral's courage ; it produced a quarrel 
 between him and Sullivan, which Washington long 
 attempted to heal ; and the resentment" occasioned by 
 these differences, in the minds of the I-'rench, contribu- 
 ted greatly to diminish their exertions in behalf of the 
 colonies. 
 
 The war was now prosecuted with varied success. 
 The whole province of Georgia was reduced by the 
 English. Carolina was hivaded, and Charleston, its 
 principal city, had nearly fallen into the hands of the 
 royalists. Several expeditions against the provinces in 
 North America were likewise successful. On the other 
 hand, the Spaniards, joining in the confederacy against 
 Britain, made an irruption into Florida, and look pos- 
 session of that country without opposition. Not a few 
 of the states of Europe contemplated the exertions of the 
 Americans with a favourable eye. And the Indians 
 who, at the instigation of the British, had molested the 
 provinces by continual depredations, were effectually 
 and completely subdued by general Sullivan ; their vil- 
 lages were burnt, and their plantations destroyed ; so 
 that when the invading army had quitted the district 
 occupied by the savages, "there was not a house, nor a 
 field of corn, nor a fruit tree left upon the ground ;" nor 
 was there an Indian to be seen throughout the whole 
 tract. 
 
 During the whole of the American war, there appears 
 to have been one capital and fatal error on the part of the 
 British generals. They never collected their forces, 
 and advanced against the enemy with their whole 
 strength; a mode of conduct which would have brought 
 the war to a point, and enabled their discipline and skill 
 to operate with decisive and awful execution against the 
 rude valour of the provincial troops. On the contrary, 
 they divided their forces into small bodies; invaded the 
 colonies in separate detachments ; gave the Americans 
 every opportunity of harassing them and cutting off their 
 supplies ; and were finally constrained to yield to the per- 
 severance and boldness of men inferior to them in railita- 
 I'y knowledge, and almost destitute of those advantages 
 ■which influence the success of military operations. This 
 error of the British commanders was perceived by Wash- 
 ington, and he availed himself of it. "From your ac- 
 counts," says he to Schuyler, in a letter written after 
 the fall of Ticonderoga, " general Burgoyne appears to 
 be pursuing that line of conduct, which, of all others, is 
 most favourable to us ; I mean, acting in detachment. 
 This conduct will certainly give room for enterprize on 
 our side, and expose his parties to great hazard. Could 
 we be so happy as to cut one of them off, though it 
 should not exceed four, five, or six hundred men, it 
 would inspirit the people, and do away much of their 
 anxiety." — Marshall's Life of IVashington, vol. iii. p. 
 262. 
 
 In the year 1780, the war was effectually transferred 
 to the southern provinces. On the 19th of February, 
 sir Heniy Clinton, who, in conjunction with vice-admiral 
 Arbuthnot, had left New York some time before, ap- 
 peai-ed off Charleston ; on the 20lh of March, the Eng- 
 lish squadron entered the harbour of that city; and on 
 the 29th of the same month, the troops effected a land- 
 ing at Charleston Neck. The British then summoned 
 the town; but Lincoln, who commanded there, under 
 the awthority of the United States, expressed his reso- 
 lution of defending the place. In framing his answer 
 to the summons of the English general, he was influen- 
 
 Voi.. I. Part II. 
 
 ced considerably by the expectation of reinforcements 
 and supplies from the neighbouring provinces; these, 
 however, came hi very slowly; and a body of militia, 
 which was proceeding to his relief, was attacked and 
 dispersed by the earl Cornwallis and colonel Tarleton- 
 The city was now invested in every direction ; Fort Sul- 
 livan was in possession of the royalists ; and the prepa- 
 rations for a general assault were nearly completed ; 
 when Lincoln, disappointed in the hope of obtaining suc- 
 cour from without, and indifferently supported by the 
 troops under his command, agreed to the proposals ol 
 Clinton, and allowed the English, under general Leslie, 
 to march into tlic place. The loss of Charleston was a 
 severe blow to the American interests; 2487 men were 
 taken prisoners, besides lOOf) sailors in arms; and the 
 quantity of ordnance and military stores which fell into 
 the hands of the king's troops, was not only great, but 
 in the present state of the colonial affairs, could with 
 difficulty be spared. Such, however, was the disposi- 
 tion of the provinces, and such the aversion to the Eng- 
 lish which the Americans had long cherished in their 
 breasts,Jhat instead of being dispirited by their misfor- 
 tunes, they united with greater cordiality and firmness, 
 and prompted each other to more vigorous exertions. 
 It is true, that after the surrender of Charleston, the 
 English general issued a proclamation, in which he ex- 
 horted tlie people to return to their allegiance, and 
 threatened them with the utmost severity of punish- 
 ment, if they refused to comply; and that some indi- 
 viduals were found who petitioned to be admitted into 
 the number, and restored to the condition of British 
 subjects. But these were regarded by the majority of 
 their countrymen as the slaves of tyranny ; and looked 
 upon as unworthy to be enrolled under the same banner, 
 or to fight in the same cause, with the champions of 
 freedom. 
 
 Amidst the ravages and desolation of war, the con- 
 gress were not inattentive to the arts of peace. A 
 committee of their number was instructed to examine 
 the ground, as yet unoccupied, in the city of Philadel- 
 phia, and to choose a place for a building where the 
 representatives of the Amei'ican people might assemble 
 in a manner suitable to their dignity. They determined 
 to erect a statue in honour of their general, INIontgo- 
 mery, who had fallen at Quebec; and authorized Dr 
 Franklin to agree with an artist of Paris for that pur- 
 pose ; they established a court in which all appeals from 
 the admiralty to the United States, relating to captures, 
 might be heard ; they reformed the currency, and ar- 
 ranged their finances, so that the army might be regu- 
 larly supplied with pay and clothing, and furnished with 
 every thing which the general might require. They 
 celebrated the 4th of July, the anniversary of their in- 
 dependence, with great pomp ; and on the same day, 
 the first degrees in the arts were conferred by the pro- 
 vost and masters belonging to the college at Philadel- 
 phia. On this occasion, the members of congress, the 
 chevalier de la Luzerne, minister plenipotentiary from 
 the French king to the United States, together with 
 other persons of distinction, were present. 
 
 Not long after these transactions a second fleet arri- 
 ved at Rhode Island from France. This fleet, consisting 
 of seven ships of the line, was under the orders of M. 
 Ternay ; and had on board 6000 men, well appointed 
 and disciplined, and led by Rochambeau, an officer of 
 great talents and experience. As the aid which the 
 Americans had now received was both unexpected and 
 4 M
 
 6i-2 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 considerable, tife joy which it occasioned was very 
 great : the assembly at Rhode Island went in a body to 
 congratulate the French general on his arrival; and he, 
 in return, assured them, that the troops which he com- 
 manded were only the first division of a larger force, 
 which the king, his master, would send to their assist- 
 ance. No sooner was it communicated to the British 
 that the provincials had been strengthened by aid from 
 Europe, than they formed a scliemc in order lo render 
 it ineffectual. It was agreed by sir Harry Clinton and 
 the English admiral to make an attack by sea and land 
 on the French vessels and the allied troops al Rliode 
 Island. But Washington, having received intelligence 
 of the design, passed the North River with an army of 
 12,000 men, and, advancing by a rapid movement to 
 Kingsbridge, threatened with a siege the town of New 
 York, where Clinton commanded in person. This judi- 
 cious and timely movement produced the desired effect. 
 The English general immediately altered his plan, and 
 ordered his troops to disembark ; in consequence of 
 which, the Americans likewise withdrew from Kings- 
 bridge, and returned, by slow marches, to there former 
 station. They were soon after followed by general 
 Knyphausen, who attempted to surprise and cut off 
 their advanced posts ; in this, however, he was unsuc- 
 cessful, and having set fire to Springfield, and wasted 
 the neighbouring country, he joined the main army at 
 New York. 
 
 About this time, general Gates, who had already dis- 
 tinguished himself in the contest with Burgoyne, was 
 appointed to the chief command of the provincial forces 
 in South Carolina. He was opposed by the earl Corn- 
 wallis, and colonel Tarleton, officers of high name and 
 respectability ; whose services in the reduction of 
 Charleston we have already mentioned. On the 16tli 
 of August, an action took place near Cambdeu, between 
 the royal army and that of the Americans. Prior to this 
 action, the situation of the king's troops was exceeding- 
 ly critical. The position at Cambden, though advan- 
 tageous in some respects, was not well chosen for sus- 
 taining an attack ; the force under Cornwallis did not 
 exceed 2000 men, while that of the provincials was 
 more than double that number ; the consequence of a 
 defeat might be the loss of South Carolina, and the ef- 
 fect of a victory, the complete establishment of the royal 
 authority in that extensive province. General Gates was 
 advancing with rapidity ; and intelligence was received, 
 that it was the design of that commander to attack the 
 British lines. 
 
 In these circumstances, the skill and resolution of 
 Cornwallis, and the decisive bravery of lord Rawdon, 
 (now earl Moira,) not only saved the English from de- 
 feat, but enabled them to gain a signal victory over the 
 provincial troops. On the evening of the I5th, the 
 British general, having resolved not to wait for the 
 approach of the Americans, led out his small, but de- 
 termined band, in order to attack them ; and nearly at 
 the same moment. Gates advanced towards Cambden, 
 with a similar intention. The two armies met in a nar- 
 row place, where the colonial troops could not avail 
 themselves of their superior numbers ; the English per- 
 ceiving the advantage which the ground afforded them, 
 began the assault, and in a short time the action became 
 general and warm. The onset of the royalists, who ad- 
 vanced with their bayonets fixed, was irresistibly impe- 
 tuous; the provincial militia, lately raised, and strangers 
 to regular service, first gave way ; and the continental 
 
 battalions, influenced by their example, yielded on all 
 sides, and fled in tiie utmost disorder. Many ol the co- 
 lonists fell in this engagement, and more in tlie pur- 
 suit ; 1000 meVi were taken prisoners, and seven pieces 
 of caimon, together with all the ammunition and stores 
 of the provincial army, remauied in the hands of the 
 English. While the action was at the hottest, the baron 
 de Kalb, a Prussian officer in the American service, 
 distinguished himself by the heroic valour with which 
 he fought ; he maintained his position against a furious 
 assault of the enemy, and charged them at the head of 
 the battalion which he commanded; till, overpowered 
 by the English horse, and wounded in eleven parts of 
 his body, he gave his sword to a British officer who was 
 near him, and resigned himself a prisoner of war. From 
 the royalists he received every attention which it was in 
 their power to bestow; but his wounds were mortal, 
 and in a few hours he expired. The last moments of 
 this gallant soldier wer« spent in acknowledging the 
 kindness of the English, and in declaring his unqualified 
 approbation of the officers and men, who had fought 
 under his orders, or fallen by his side. And the con- 
 gress afterwards ordered a monument to be erected to 
 his memory, in testimony of their sense of his worth, 
 and their gratitude for his services. 
 
 But while the Americans were doomed to suffer by 
 the power of their enemies, their misfortunes were near- 
 ly completed by the treachery of their friends. Arnold, 
 a leading man in Philadelphia, governor of that city in 
 the name of the United States, and a general of conspi- 
 cuous abilities, was induced to quit the service of his 
 country, and attach himself to the royal cause. Different 
 motives have been assigned for this inglorious conduct. 
 It has been said, that he was unfriendly to the declara- 
 tion of independence, and disgusted at the alliance 
 with France ; and it has been urged, with greater plau- 
 sibility, that the origin of his treachery is to be looked 
 for in the fickleness of his temper, and the unfortunate 
 issue of the speculations in which he engaged. He had 
 been accused by the government of Philadelphia for 
 the appropriation of goods, belonging to the public, to 
 his own use ; and had been tried for certain actions-, 
 which, though not declared to be highly blamable, or 
 injurious to the state, were, nevertheless, of a very sus- 
 picious nature. Those, who have written of the Ame- 
 rican war, have not informed us whether any attempts 
 were made to corrupt his fidelity, or whether, by a pro- 
 posal originating with himself, he betrayed the cause of 
 freedom, and the interests of his country. It is certain, 
 however, that he had frequent interviews with major 
 Andre, on board the Vulture, in North River ; and when 
 that officer was taken in the disguise of a peasant, seve- 
 ral documents of a public nature, in the hand-writing 
 of Arnold, as well as a plan of the fortifications at West 
 Point, where the traitor commanded, were found in his 
 possession. From the documents alluded to, it is pro- 
 bable, that the designs of the American general were 
 of an extensive nature, and that he meditated the scheme 
 of re-annexing the colonies to the British empire. But 
 whether his designs were limited or extensive, they 
 were all frustrated by the apprehension of major Andr^, 
 This unfortunate gentleman, equally remarkable for the 
 amiableness of his dispositions, and his attainments in 
 classical learning, was accidentally prevented from reach- 
 ing the king's troops, by means of the vessel which had 
 conveyed him to the shore ; and was discovered and 
 seized on his way to New York. His case was referred
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 643 
 
 by the commander in chief to a board of officers, con- 
 sisting of general Greene, lord Sterling, the niarquis de 
 la Fayette, baron Steuben, two major-generals, and eight 
 brigadiers. Before these distinguished persons, it was 
 ascertained, that he had often come on shore during the 
 night, and conversed, in a secret manner, with general 
 Arnold ; that he changed his dress within the American 
 lines, and, under a fictitious name, and a disguised ha- 
 bit, had passed the American works at Stony and Ver- 
 plank's Points ; that ho was taken on the 23d of Sep- 
 tember by three American soldiers*, when hastening 
 to join the British ; and that certain papers, containing 
 intelligence for the enemy, were found in his boots. It 
 was therefore determined by the court, that he should 
 be considered as a spy from the royal army ; and that, 
 in conformity with the law of nations, and the practice 
 of European countries, he ought to sufler death. In 
 vain did sir Henry Clinton, and Arnold himself, write 
 to general Washington, and petition that his life might 
 be spared: the provincials, galled by their late dis- 
 tresses, were inexorable, and Andre was hanged, on the 
 2d of October, at Tappan, in the division of New York. 
 He met his fate with courage and composure ; but re- 
 gretted, that the usages of war would not permit him 
 to terminate his days in a more honourable manner, and 
 to die, not as a criminal, but as a soldier. 
 
 But, as his example was imitated by few of his coun- 
 trymen, the defection of Arnold was of no great and 
 permanent advantage to the royal cause. The affairs of 
 the British in the southern provinces at length began to 
 decline. The king's troops had made an ineffectual 
 attempt to possess themselves of North Carolina; Tarle- 
 ton was defeated with considerable loss ; and though 
 Greene, the American general, at the head of a power- 
 ful division, was twice constrained to yield to the abilities 
 of Cornwallis, and the valour of Rawdon, the provin- 
 cials quickly recovered their ground, repulsed the ene- 
 my in their turn, and seemed every day to increase in 
 numbers, and to improve in discipline. The royalists 
 were often in great distress from the want of provisions, 
 and, on many occasions, were totally destitute of bread. 
 No succours had arrived from sir Henry Clinton, the 
 commander in chief. That general, opposed by Wash- 
 ington, and deceived by the artifices of the American 
 leader, was in daily appi'chension of an attack upon New 
 York, and unable to Efford the least assistance to the 
 army in Carolina. In consequence of an action, which 
 took place between the French and British fleets, the 
 allies became masters of the Chesapeak. Washing- 
 ton, informed of the condition to which the English 
 were reduced, took every method in his power in order 
 to compel them to surrender. With this view, he quit- 
 ted his station in the vicinity of New York, and, accom- 
 panied by the marquis de la Fayette and the count de 
 Rochambeau, proceeded to Williamsburg, in Virginia ; 
 where, putting himself at the head of the French and 
 American troops, he advanced to York -town ; and, after 
 the disembarkation of tlie stores, laid siege to that 
 place. Tlie utmost alacrity prevailing among the allied 
 forces, and tlie whole army exerting itself with unusual 
 vigour, the lines were completed in a short time. The 
 situation of lord Cornwallis, and the British under his 
 oomniand, now became desperate. The works which 
 they had raised had fallen before the artillery of Wash- 
 
 Paulding, Vanvert and Williams, 
 
 ington; their attempts to repel the besiegers, to stop 
 their progress, and even to escape through the Ameri- 
 can lines, had all proved inefiectual ; every day brought 
 the provincials nearer to their object; and nothing al 
 length remained, but to capitulate on the most honour- 
 able terms. Accordingly, on the 19th of October 1781, 
 the English general yielded to the necessity which 
 pressed upon him, ajid surrendered himself and his 
 whole army prisoners of war. The artillery, arms, and 
 accoutrements belonging to the royalists, together with 
 their military chest and stores of every description, 
 were given up to the Americans ; and 7000 men, the 
 flower of the British troops, remained under the guard 
 or escort of the continental battalions. 
 
 The success of the allies in the capture of York -town, 
 is chiefly to be ascribed to the skill and prudence of 
 Washington. No little artifice was employed to im- 
 press sir Henry Clinton with the belief that New York 
 was in danger, and to keep that general in perpetual 
 alarm ; while, in these very circumstances, the Ameri- 
 can coinmander was forming his plans, and collecting 
 his supplies, in order to march against Cornwallis in 
 the south. The artifice alluded to was maintained with 
 such ability, that Clinton did not oiice suspect the in- 
 tentions of the provincial leader, and was effectually 
 prevented from supporting the falling fortunes of his 
 countrymen. The British general was not deficient in 
 those qualities which lead to bold and adventurous ex- 
 ertions ; but he was deceived by appearances, which 
 induced him to thiiik rather of defending the capital in 
 his possession, than of diminishing his strength in order 
 to secure more distant acquisitions. When the design 
 of the Americans, however, was known, he made an 
 effort; and, though it was late and inefficient, it showed 
 his inclination, at least, to aid the operations in the south- 
 ern countries. To the skill of the French engineers, 
 likewise, the success of the allies should, in a great 
 degree, be imputed : but, above all, it ought to be as- 
 cribed to the persevering patriotism of the colonists 
 themselves, and that invincible hatred of oppression, 
 which animated them in every struggle, and prompted 
 them, after every defeat, to renewed endeavours in the 
 cause of liberty. 
 
 The joy diffused throughout the United States by the 
 surrender of the army under lord Cornwallis, was equal 
 to the anxiety which it had occasioned. The people of 
 America regarded the brilliant achievement of their 
 commander, which put the allies in possession of York- 
 town, as determining the issue of the contest ; and from 
 that moment they looked forward to the reward of all 
 their toils, and a full compensation for all tlieir suffer- 
 ings. By the congress the intelligence was received 
 with the highest satisfaction. They voted the thanks 
 of the United States to Washington, to the count de 
 Rochambeau, and to the officers and men of the southern 
 army; they resolved, that a marble column should be 
 erected at York-town, in Virginia, with emblems com- 
 memorative of the alliance between the United States 
 and his most Christian majesty ; they determined to go 
 in full and solemn procession to the Dutch Lutheran 
 church, and give thanks to Almighty God for the suc- 
 cess of their general and the forces under his command ; 
 and they issued a proclamation, appointing the 1 3th of 
 December as a day of thanksgiving and prayer on ac- 
 count of the signal interposition of Divine Providence 
 which they had experienced. 
 
 But if the surrender of Cornwallis was the occasion of 
 4 M 2
 
 644 
 
 AiVlERlCA. 
 
 joy to the Americans, it was ilie occasion ol' much and 
 serious concern to the British. The war, into which 
 the English nation had at first entered with great ala- 
 crity, was now become iniivcrsally unpopular. The 
 Americans, having secured the alliance ot the French, 
 were more able than ever to resist the force of the Bri- 
 tish arms; and the spirit which had given rise to the 
 defcclion of the colonics, so far from being subdued, 
 continued to inlluence them in all their determinations. 
 It Vv-as perceived, that the reduction of the provinces 
 could not be accomplished without a great waste of 
 blood and treasure : And perhaps the injustice of forcing 
 the Americans to contribute to the support! of a govern- 
 ment, which allowed them no place in its councils, had 
 at length become evident to the British people. But, 
 from whatever cause it arose, it is certain, that a re- 
 markable change had taken place in the sentiments of 
 the English nation ; and that a desire for peace was 
 every where pl-evalent. Accordingly, on the 4th of 
 March, 1782, it was resolved by the House of Com- 
 mons, notwithstanding a violent opposition from the 
 ministry, " that the House will consider as enemies to 
 his majesty and the country, all those who advise or at- 
 tempt a further prosecution of the offensive war on the 
 continent of North America." A change of adminis- 
 tration then look place. On the Sth of May, sir Guy 
 Carlcton arrived at New York, and was joined with ad- 
 miral Digby in a commission to treat of peace with the 
 people of America : on the 30th of November, tlie arti- 
 cles were signed at Paris; and the colonies of New 
 Hampshire, Massachusetts-bay, Rhode Island and Pro- 
 vidence plantations, Connecticut, New York, New Jer- 
 sey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, North 
 Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia, were acknow- 
 ledged to l)e " free, sovereign and independent states." 
 In this acknowledgment the French had already agreed, 
 and their example was speedily followed by the other 
 nations of Europe. 
 
 Thus ended the war between Great Britain and Ame- 
 rica : a war which began in an injudicious and tyrannical 
 endeavour to procure a revenue from the colonics, and 
 which terminated in their freedom and sovereignty; a 
 war in which much blood was spilt, and many Cruelties 
 exercised; and the issue of which will remain as ales- 
 son to those who, unmindful of the rights of the people, 
 would lift against them the arm of power, and force them 
 to a compliance with their unjust demands. 
 
 But though the Americans had succeeded in procur- 
 ing an acknowledgment of their independence, the peace 
 of the colonies was not yet established. If they for- 
 merly dreaded the encroachments of an external power, 
 the army at home seemed now to be an equal object of 
 fear; and apprehensions were entertained that the colo- 
 nies might be forced to exchange the government of 
 Britain, which was comparatively mild and equitable, 
 for the iron rule of military despotism. But Washing- 
 ton, while he laboured to free his comitry from the 
 terror of a foreign yoke, had no wish to make its liberties 
 the prey of his ambition, or to raise himself by the de- 
 pression of the American people. At this time, the vir- 
 tues of that distinguished man shone forth with peculiar 
 and unrivalled lustre. Not elevated to an undue degree 
 iiy the success of his arms, but enjoying the conscious- 
 ness of having performed the duty to which the voice of 
 his countrymen had called him, he assembled the ofti- 
 rers of the different battalions and companies, exhorted 
 ihcm to moderation in demanding their arrears, pro- 
 
 mised tj exert his whole hifluence in tlicir favour; and 
 conjured them, "as they valued their honour, as ihejr 
 respected the rights of humanity, and as they regarded 
 the military and national character of the American 
 states, to express their utmcSt detestation of the men 
 who were attempting to open the floodgates of civil dis- 
 cord, and to deluge their rising empire with blood." 
 These words, as those of one whom they had been ac- 
 customed to reverence, were weighty and decisive. 
 His speech was followed by a solemn pause ; after which 
 it was proposed, and unanimously carried, that no cir- 
 cumstances of distress should induce tlie army of the 
 United States to sully their honour, or to distrust tho 
 justice of their country. But Washington did not con- 
 fine himself to the exhortation of others; he resolved to 
 give to his countrymen, and to the whole world, an ex- 
 ample of virtuous moderation, and, with absolute power 
 within his reach, to resign his commission as general 
 into the hands of those by whom it had been conferred. 
 Accordingly, he proceeded to Annapolis, where the 
 congress was sitting, and on the 23d of December, A. D. 
 1783, he declared himself no longer invested with any 
 public character. After this declaration he withdrew 
 from the meeting, and, retiring to his estate at Mount 
 Vernon, on the banks of the Potowmac, in Virginia, 
 he addicted himself to the peaceful pursuits of agricul- 
 ture. 
 
 A general constitution for the American states was 
 then framed. They entered into a perpetual union, or 
 confederation* with each other, for their mutual defence 
 and advantage ; they agreed, that delegates should be 
 appointed by each state to meet in congress on the first 
 Monday of every year ; that no state should be repre- 
 sented by fewer delegates than two, or by more than 
 seven ; that each colony should have a single vote ; and 
 that the laws and decisions of the supreme assembly 
 should be obligatory on all the provinces under its juris- 
 diction. Each state, however, was to be governed 
 wholly by its own legislature ; and with the enactments 
 of that legislature the congress had no right to inter- 
 fere. It was not difficult to perceive, that this constitu- 
 tion had not within itself sufficient energy to produce 
 and ensure a vigorous administration of affairs. The 
 congress had no authority over individuals ; it had au- 
 thority over the states only as political bodies; it had 
 no power to force even the states to a compliance with 
 its injunctions ; and, in case of any quarrel, it could not 
 prevent them from making war upon each other. Diffi- 
 culties occurred, and distresses were multiplied on every 
 side. The army, though disbanded, had received only 
 four months' pay ; the debts contracted by the congress, 
 as well as by many of the individual states, had not been 
 discharged, and therefore were daily increasing ; and 
 the government, possessing no revenue, could give no 
 effectual value to its paper currency. Taxes were im- 
 posed by some of the provincial legislatures ; but as they 
 wei'e far beyond the means of the inhabitants, and levied 
 with the utmost rigour, they occasioned very general 
 discontent. And though it had been fondly expected, 
 that, after the termination of the war, the commerce of 
 the United States would revive, it was still embarrassed 
 and languid. 
 
 * This confederation was completed in the year 1781, 
 after a very deliberate consideration in several of the 
 state legislatures. Tench Coxe.
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 G45 
 
 In the midst of these distresses, it was proposed, that 
 a general convention should be held, in order to frame 
 a better plan of government, or so to alter the existing 
 constitution, as to remedy the evils which pressed upon 
 the community. Accordingly, in the year 1787, tlele- 
 gates from all the siates, with the exception of Rhode 
 Island, assembled at Philadelpliia; and, after choosing 
 general Washington for their president, they proceeded 
 to the arduous duty which they had undertaken to per- 
 form. Their sentiments were by no means as uniform 
 as might have been expected. Some of the commis- 
 sioners were zealous advocates for a republican consti- 
 tution; and others wished, by elevating and strengthen- 
 ing the executive, to give to the new system a monar- 
 chical tendency and character. Hence arose the two 
 parties in the American states, which have divided the 
 councils of the nation, or obstructed its energy, from the 
 sittings at Philadelphia to the present day. They have, 
 in later times, been distinguished by the names of fede- 
 ralists and anti-federalists ;* the former consisting gene- 
 rally of those whose sentiments are believed to be favour- 
 able to monarchy ;t and the latter of those who have at- 
 tached themselves to republican principles. In the con- 
 vention at Philadelphia, the opinion of such as w ished to 
 strengthen the executive part of the government seems 
 to have prevailed; for many articles of the new constitu- 
 tion gave high offence to the keener republicans. In 
 the number of these we must reckon the celebrated Dr 
 Franklin. But that eminent philosopher and statesman, 
 relinquishing his private opinion, yielded to the deter- 
 mination of the majority, and received the constitution 
 with all its defects. The speech which he made on this 
 occasion is remarkable for the genuine spirit of patriot- 
 ism which it breathes: " In the long career I have al- 
 ready run," said he, " I have more than once been com- 
 pelled to abandon opinions which I had openly main- 
 tained, and which I thought well founded, from the deep 
 consideration which I had given them. As I grow older, 
 I am more and more disposed to question my own judg- 
 nient, and to pay respect to that of others. There are 
 some men, as well as some religious sects, who imagine 
 that reason is entirely on their side ; and that their op- 
 ponents plunge deeper into error in proportion as they 
 depart from their opinions. Struck with these exam- 
 ples, which are but too common, I accept of this consti- 
 tution with all its faults, even supposing that I am not 
 mistaken in my opinion of its faults : for I am persuaded 
 that a general government is necessary to our safety ; 
 and that no form of government, which is well adminis- 
 tered, is incapable of producing the happiness of the 
 people. I think, also, there is reason to believe, that 
 v ) this constitution will be well administered for many 
 years; and that it will not end, as many other govern- 
 ments have done, in despotism ; unless the American 
 people shall reach that degree of corruption, in which, 
 at once incapable of being directed by a free constitu- 
 tion, and unworthy of its blessings, despotism becomes 
 necessary to their existence. I therefore give my vote 
 for this constitution, both because, in the present cir- 
 
 t It is unjust to consider it as a general characteristic 
 of the federalists, that they are attached to monarchy. 
 
 Tench Coxe. 
 
 cumstanccs of the nation, I cannot hope to see one more 
 perfect, and because I am not sure this is not as peifect 
 as any it can have. I make a sacrifice of the opinion 
 which I have expressed of its defects to the public hap- 
 ])iness. I trust, that, botli for our own safety, as members 
 of the conununity, and for the sake of our posterity, we 
 shall be of one mind, in recommending this constitution 
 wherever our itifluence reaches; and that, afterwards, 
 our whole thoughts will be bent to its happy adminis- 
 tration. And I cannot forbear to form the wisli, that 
 such of us as still entertain objections to this constitu- 
 tion, will follow my example, and, doubting a little of 
 their own infallibility, will sign this constitutional act, 
 that no question may be left of our own unanimity." 
 The effect of this speech was instantaneous and decisive ; 
 the constitution was agreed to by all the memliers; and 
 the following general articles were transmitted, with 
 many subordinate clauses, for the acceptance of the 
 different states. 
 
 1. All legislative power shall be vested in a congress 
 of the United States, which shall consist of a senate and 
 a house of representatives. 2. The executive power 
 shall be vested in a president of the United States of 
 America; wdio, as well as tiie vice-president, shall hold 
 his office during the term of four years. (The way in 
 which the president is elected is somewhat peculiar. 
 See Hillhoiise on the Amendment of the American Consti- 
 tution.\) 3. The judicial power of the United States 
 shall be vested in one supreme court, and in such in- 
 ferior courts as the congress may from time to time or- 
 dain and establish. The judges, both of the supreme 
 and inferior courts, shall hold their offices during their 
 good behaviour ; and shall, at stated times, receive for 
 their services a compensation which shall not be dimin- 
 ished during their continuance in ofhce. 4. Full faith 
 and credit shall be given in each state to the public acts, 
 records, and judicial proceedings of every otiier state : 
 and the congress may, by general laws, prescribe the 
 manner in which such acts, records, and proceedings 
 shall be proved, and the effect thereof. 5. The congress, 
 whenever two-thirds of both houses shall deem it neces- 
 sary, shall propose amendments to this constitution ; or, 
 on the application of the legislatures of two-thirds of the 
 several states, shall call a convention for proposing 
 amendments, which, in either case, shall be valid to all 
 intents and purposes as part of this constitution, when 
 ratified by the legislatures of three-fotirths of the several 
 states, or by conventions in three-fourths thereof; as the 
 one or the other mode of ratification may be proposed by 
 the congress. 6. All debts contracted, and engagements 
 entered into, before the adoption of this constitution, shall 
 be as valid against the United States, under this consti- 
 tution, as under the confederation. 7. The ratification 
 of the conventions of nine states shall be sufficient for the 
 establishment of this constitution, between the states so 
 ratifying the same. 
 
 Such is a very general outline of the system proposed 
 by the commissioners at Philadelphia for the political 
 administration of the United States. It was afterwards 
 rendered more complete by the addition of many other 
 
 \ The amendment proposed by Mr Hillhouse was not 
 adopted. Tench Coxe. 
 
 * These p.ppellations were likewise in use at the time of the convention at Philadelphia, but with a meaning nearly the reverse of 
 what was afterwards attached to them.
 
 646 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 articles, tending chiefly to secure the rights and liberties, 
 of the people ; and, with the improvements alluded to, it 
 was finally adopted by all the colonial assemblies. No 
 sooncrhad it begun to operate, than a new vigour seemed 
 to be diffused through all the provinces. Tne finances 
 were arranged ; the public debt was gradually reduced ; 
 a national bank, with a capital of 1 0,(;0'.i,00o dollars, was 
 established ; the arrears due to the army were paid ; a 
 small permanent force was organized ; the administra- 
 tion of justice was decisive, but equitable ; and tnough 
 some disturbances arose on account of the taxes, or tne 
 way in which they were collected ; yet the peace and 
 prosperity of the colonies were happily secured. 
 
 In the year 1789, the first coni;ress, elected according 
 to the new institute, met at New York. Before this 
 great national assembly was convoked, it was the unani- 
 mous desire of the American Slates, that their late com- 
 mander in chief, who had so illustriously conducted them 
 to independence, and had aided them in forming their 
 political system, should allow himself to be chosen pre- 
 sident. This desire was expressed in various letters, 
 and these were seconded by the earnest entreaties ol his 
 fi'iends. But Washington having retired to the bosom of 
 his family, and devoted himself to the improvement of 
 his estate, was unwilling to relinquish the tranquillity of 
 private life for the bustle and anxiety of public aflairs. 
 Yielding, however, to the solicitations of those whose 
 opinions be valued, he at last agreed to accept of the ho- 
 nour which the United States were anxious to confer 
 upon him ; and accordingiy, on the first Wednesday of 
 February, A. D. 1789, by the unanimous and unbiassed 
 voice of the States, he was called to the chief magistracy 
 of the American nation. And on the same day, Mr 
 John Adams, who had supported Mr Jefierson in pro- 
 curing the original declaration of independence, was 
 chosen vice-president. 
 
 Wiien the appointment of Washington was officially 
 announced to him, he signified his willingness to com- 
 ply : and, bidding adieu to Mount Vernon, to private 
 life, and domestic felicity, he proceeded, without delay, 
 to New York. In his progress to that city, he was met 
 by numerous bodies of the people, who hailed him as the 
 lather of his country ; triumphal arches were erected to 
 commemorate his achievements ; aged women blessed 
 him as he passed ; and virgins, strewing roses in his 
 way, expressed their hope, that he, who had defended 
 the injured rights of their parents, would not refuse his 
 protection to their children. {^I^'fe of JVas/migton, vol. 
 V. p. 185.) He approached New York by sea, attended 
 by a deputation from the congress ; he was received by 
 the governor on one of the wharfs as he landed, and, 
 amidst the roar of artillery, and the acclamations of the 
 multitude, took, possession of the apartments which had 
 been provided for his reception. Here he was visited 
 by the foreign ambassadoi s, by the representatives of 
 the public bodies, and tlie citizens of chief distinction ; 
 and brilliant illuminations concluded this day of festivity 
 and joy. 
 
 As all the members of the congress approved of the 
 new constitution, they all agreed in supporting it. For 
 a time, tlierefore, the utmost harmony prevailed in tlie 
 national councils : but, by degrees, the spirit of oppo- 
 sition crept in'i and parties began to be formed. They 
 were radically the same with those which had nearly di- 
 vided the convention at Philadelphia, and were distin- 
 guished by the names which we have already mentioned. 
 The. Federalists, whose principles inclined towards mo- 
 
 narchy, or at least towards aristocracy, concurred, with 
 uniform stcadhiess, in supporting the new authorities ; 
 while the Anti-fcdcralists, or the more zealous republi- 
 cans, opposed, in many instances, the proceedings of the 
 government. It was not, however, till the period of the 
 French revolution, that these parties became exasperated 
 against each other. Tne influence of that important 
 event, wh ch shook the foundation of every throne in 
 Europe, was not confined to the ancient continent, but 
 extended beyond the shores of the Atlantic and cari-ied 
 agitation and discord into the American States. The 
 democratic pany beheld with pleasure the dissemination 
 of their principles ; they rejoiced in the downfal of 
 kings ; and though they contemplated with horror the 
 sanguinary proceedings of Marat and Robespierre they 
 trusted, that when the first commotions were assuaged, 
 a republic of the most perfect kind would be established, 
 and would remain as a proof to the whole world, that 
 good order and liberty were not inconsistent with each 
 other. But the Federalists, connected with Britain by 
 the various ties of commercial interest, shocked with the 
 crimes of the French rulers, and alarmed at the system of 
 disorganization which they had introduced, repressed 
 every appearance of popular cabal, and supported the 
 executive with all their authority and influence. 
 
 At this time, however, the Ameiican government 
 seems to have regarded the French with a favourable 
 eye. The congress paid to the rulers of France the 
 debt which the United States had contracted to Louis 
 XVI, by sending, in a fleet of 160 transports, a quantity 
 of grain equal to the value of the money which they 
 owed ;* and though the French men of war, which pro- 
 tected the ships, were destroyed or disabled by lord 
 Howe on the 1st of June 1794, the provisions were safely 
 conveyed into the harbour of Brest. Yet, notwithstand- 
 ing this effectual assistance, it appears to have been the 
 general wish of the United States, not to interfere, by 
 any decisive exertion, in the contests of the European 
 powers, but rather to maintain a neutrality, with which 
 neither party could justly be offended. At the same 
 time, the commerce of the United States was greatly 
 impeded by the English, who, in order to increase the 
 distresses of the French, seized all the vessels from 
 America which carried provisions to that people, and 
 detained them as prizes lawfully captured in Avar. The 
 parties which agitated the Union, now raged with great 
 violence ; the debates in the house pf representatives 
 were keen, and protracted to an extraordinary length ; 
 the feelings of the multitude were roused ; and had not 
 Washington at last declared his opinion in favour of 
 Great Britain, an universal anarchy might have been in- 
 troduced.t This declaration of the executive was fol- 
 
 * This is inaccurate. The foreign governments and 
 foreign officers were all paid by the United States in 
 specie. Tench Coxe. 
 
 t There is no reason to consider the late president 
 Washington as unduly confiding in the British govern- 
 ment at the time of the making and ratification of the 
 treaty of 1794. He does not appear to have been de- 
 sirous of connexions with that counti'y derogatory from 
 our rights or interests, or more favourable to them than 
 our corresponding connexions with other countries. In 
 the situations of the old governments of Europe at that 
 time, there were innumerable causes of collision with 
 I" ranee ; but none of these affected us so much as the
 
 «^- 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 647 
 
 lowed by several steps of a decisive nature. Mr Jef- 
 ferson, tlic leader of the Anti-federalists, was dismissed,* 
 by order of the president, Irom liis situation as secre- 
 tary of state ; colonel Hamilton, whose principles were 
 known to be favourable to Britain, was continued at the 
 head of the treasury ; and Mr Jay was despatched into 
 England for the purpose of negociating with the IJritish 
 government. These arrangements showed the people, 
 by evident indication, what mode of procedure the con- 
 gress had resolved to adopt ; and such was the authority 
 of Washington, that few objections were made. 
 
 In the end of the year 1794, a treaty was concluded 
 between Great Britain and the United States. By this 
 treaty, the English agreed to indemnify the mercliants 
 of the United States for the loss of their property taken 
 at sea, and to relinquish the forts within the American 
 territory, which had not yet been evacuated by the king's 
 troops ; while' the congress, on tiieir part, agreed, that 
 the French goods, conveyed in ships belonging to the 
 United States, might be lawfully seized ; and that no 
 privateers of any nation at war with either party, should 
 be allowed to bring their prizes into the harbours of the 
 other, or to sell them there. No sooner had the French 
 directory received intelligence of this treaty, than they 
 took the alarm. They instructed their ambassador, 
 M. Adet, to remonstrate against the privilege which 
 had been granted to their enemies, of seizing French 
 property in American vessels ; they suspended the 
 execution of the treaty of 1778, by which the French 
 were prevented from making reprisals upon the English 
 in similar circumstances, and threatened to treat all neu- 
 tral vessels exactly in the same manner as others were 
 allowed to treat the ships belonging to France. The 
 congress, however, remained firm in the preference 
 which they had shown towards Great Britain ; and, by 
 the dexterous management of Mr Monroe, the Ameri- 
 can ambassador at Paris, peace was still maintained with 
 the French republic. 
 
 To the moderation of France on this occasion, an event 
 of an important nature, which all parties foresaw and an- 
 ticipated, certainly contributed. Washington, now ad- 
 vanced in years, and spent with long service, was about 
 to resign his office as president of the congress, (see 
 Washington ;) his attachment to Great Britain was 
 known ; and it was hoped, that, after his retirement, 
 some change in the executive of the United States, pro- 
 pitious to the democratic influence, might take place. 
 Not many years elapsed before this hope was completely 
 realized. For though Adams, the next president, be- 
 longed to the party of the Federalists, yet Jefferson, who 
 succeeded him, was the known and distinguished leader 
 of the opposite faction. That gentleman was raised to 
 the presidency in the year 1800; and, since his election 
 to the present time, the democratic interest has been 
 gradually acquiring the ascendency in the American 
 States. 
 
 The wise policy of America was eminently conspicu- 
 
 » — .^ — -^^— — ^-^— 
 
 contest between that country and Great Britain, from 
 the nature of our French treaty of 1778. The weight 
 given to this circumstance by the American govern- 
 ment may have occasioned appearances easily misinter- 
 px'eted by men of strong public feelings in the British 
 nation. Tench Coxe. 
 
 * Mr Jefferson resigned the office of secretary of 
 state in the spring of the year 1794. Id. 
 
 ous in maintaining a steady system of neutrality during 
 the whole course ol tnose wars wnicii broke out in con- 
 sequence of tae French rcNoiution. Wliile the slates of 
 Europe were occupied witli plans of miRUdl destruciion, 
 America, engaged in far dilfcrcnt pursuits, was seen 
 hourly clearing tnc paths lo ui:i)omKled opulence. The 
 colonial conuneice oi France aim Spain, wnich those two 
 different powers traiislerred to ueuiral countries, in or- 
 der to avoid the pressure ol our maritime hostility, was 
 of itself a vast accession to the commerce of America; 
 not to mention the wnole ol thai brancli of European 
 trade which, m consequence ol the general war, could 
 not be safely transported in native ships, and which, con- 
 sequently, fell into the hands of neutral powers. These 
 opportunities being cultivated by America with great as- 
 siduity and success, frequently excited the jealousy of 
 the belligerents, and particularly of Biitain, whose pre- 
 ponderance at iica had enabled her to interrupt all kind 
 of communication by means of enemy's ships. A claim 
 was urged on the part of Britain, of preventing all tiadc 
 in war which was not open to an enemy in time oi peace. 
 This claim being resisted on the p<trt of America, it 
 was agreed that she should be allowed to transport the 
 produce of the French colonies to her own country, and 
 from thence to Europe. Her increasing riches, how- 
 ever, and her steady determination to profit by opportu- 
 nities which we were squandering away, at length exci- 
 ted jealousies among a class of rich and powerful mer- 
 chants in Britain, who appear to have prevailed in dis- 
 seminating their violence among the great body of the 
 people ; and it is much to be feared, that their prejudi- 
 ces began at this time to appear in the policy of Britain 
 towards America. The increasing rigour in the de- 
 cisions of our prize courts, which were supposed to pro- 
 ceed on mistaken representations of the trade carried on 
 by neutrals, had so fettered and injured American com- 
 merce, that a spirit of rising hostility became about this 
 time evidently discernible in that country. The dispute 
 which occurred respecting our right to seize British de- 
 serters on board American merchantmen, aggravated 
 the jealousies which already prevailed, and America was 
 busy in preparing measures for the defence of her com- 
 merce, when France issued her hostile decrees against 
 Britain declaring this country to be in a state of block- 
 ade, and all ships, consequently, which carried British 
 goods liable to seizure ; prohibiting also any vessel 
 which had touched at Britain from entering a French 
 port. By way of retaliation, an order was issued by the 
 king in council, declaring, that no ship should be permit- 
 ted to proceed to the continent of Europe without previ- 
 ously touching at a British port, and such duties were 
 then to be levied on her cargo as the British govei'nment 
 should think proper to exact. America being thus ex- 
 cluded, by means of the British orders in council, from 
 all commerce with the continent,except through the me- 
 dium of Britain, and being prohibited by the decrees of 
 France from touching at Britain, saw herself either re- 
 duced by the violence of the European powers to sub- 
 mit to the most degrading concessions, or to separate 
 herself for a time from all connection with Europe. She 
 chose the latter alternative ; and passed an act of con- 
 gress, by which no vessel was allowed either to leave or 
 to enter her ports. The distress felt in America in con- 
 sequence of these prohibitions, was very great ; inso- 
 much, that she lately made an attempt to regain, by an 
 amicable settlement with France and England, the com- 
 mercial freedom which she once enjoyed. To France^
 
 648 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 she proposed to re-establish her commerce on such a 
 footing, that Britain should not share in the benefit to be 
 derived Ironi it ; and she hinted, that if the peaceful 
 communication between tlie two countries should be in- 
 terrupted by England, that then she would join in the 
 war againsl her. To Britain, she proposed, if she would 
 agree to rescind her orders in council, to repeal her em- 
 bargo, and also to shut her ports against France, provi- 
 ded I'rance persisted in her iiostiie decrees. 
 
 The proposal of America was not answered by France, 
 and it was rejected by Britain ; although it is not easy to 
 conceive what could be the motive for such a determi- 
 nation, as it is not even pretended, in the answer to the 
 American ambassadoi-, that the orders in council pro- 
 duce any one substantial advantage. 
 
 During these great political movements, some events 
 of a miscellaneous description took place. The Indians 
 made an incursion into the western territories, and were 
 with difficulty repelled. The cities of Philadelphia and 
 New York were almost desolated by the yellow fever. 
 The foundation of Washington, the new capital of Ame- 
 rica, was laid ; and some changes in the ecclesiastical 
 constitution of the country, but of no very great impor- 
 tance, were introduced. 
 
 Before we conclude this article, it may be proper to 
 introduce some details, chiefly of a statistical nature, 
 which could not be inserted in the narrative of events 
 recorded in the preceding pages. 
 
 In the year 1792, a mint for the United States was 
 established by a law of 'the congress, and the division 
 and value of the money to be used throughout the pro- 
 vinces regulated by statute. The following is a list of 
 the American coins. 
 
 Gold Pieces. 
 
 The eagle, value 10 dollars, containing 247^ gr. of pure 
 
 gold, or 270 of standard gold. 
 The half eagle, value 5 dollars, containing 123| p. g. or 
 
 135 St. 
 The quarter eagle, 2^ dollars, containing 61 p. g. or 
 
 67i St. 
 
 Silver Pieces. 
 
 The revenue of the United States is chiefly derived 
 from the duties on imposts and tonnage, and has been 
 gradually increasing in proportion to the increasing pros- 
 perity of the colonies. 
 
 In 1791, the revenue amounted to 3,329,750 dols. 
 
 179.1, 6,552,300 
 
 1802, 10,500,000 
 
 1804, 11,500,000 
 
 1805, 12,500,000 „ 
 
 1808, 18,000,000 
 
 The payments made on the 1st of January 1808, along 
 with those made in the six and a half preceding years, 
 have extinguished 33,580,000 dollars of the principal of 
 the funded debt, amounting, in 179t5, to 80,000 dollars, 
 being all that could be paid within the limits of the law 
 and the contracts. The principal thus discharged, has 
 freed the revenue from 2,000,000 of dollars of interest, 
 and added that sum to the disposable surplus. The 
 estimate of expenditure for the year 1806 was 3,375,435 
 dollars ; viz. 942,992 dollars for the military establish- 
 ment, 1,240,000 dollars for the naval establishment, 
 262,550 for expenses of intercourse with foreign nations, 
 and 611,911 for miscellaneous expenses. 
 
 The growing prosperity of the American states de- 
 pends almost entirely on their commerce. Disturbed by 
 no wars of any great importance since their establish- 
 ment as an independent nation, and possessing a spirit 
 of entcrprize hardly surpassed by that which exists 
 among the people of Britain ; their ships have visited 
 every quarter of the world, and opulence, the result of 
 successful trade, has been introduced into all the pro- 
 vinces. Various accounts have been given of the exports 
 from the United States ; but the following tables, pub- 
 lished by authority, and subscribed by the register of 
 the treasury department, are considered as the most 
 accurate. See Pinkerton's Geography, vol. iii. p. 104. 
 
 Table of the value {in Dollars) and destination of the 
 Exports from the United States for the year 1804. 
 
 The dollar, value 100 cents, containing 371 J gr. of pure 
 
 silver, or 416 gr. standard. 
 The half dollar, 50 cents, containing 185f p. s. or 280 st. 
 The quarter dollar, 25 cents, containing 92-Jj p. s. or 
 
 104 St. 
 The tenth of a dollar, 10 cents, containing 37| p. s. or 
 
 52 St. 
 The half tenth, 5 cents, containing 18^^ p. s. or 26 st. 
 
 Copper Pieces. 
 
 The cent, 100th of a dollar,'' contains 11 dwts. of cop- 
 per. 
 
 The half cent, 200th of a dollar, contains 5j dwts. of 
 cop. 
 
 In 1804, the amount of the coinage was as follows. 
 
 Gold pieces, 43,597 
 
 Silver ditto, 191,092 
 
 Copper ditto, 1,812,159 
 
 Total value,,. ..37 1,827 dols. 
 
 Exported to Russia, .... 
 
 Sweden, 
 
 Swedish West Indies, . . . 
 
 Denmark and Norway, . . . 
 
 Danish West Indies, .... 
 East Indies, .... 
 
 United Netherlands, . . . . 
 
 Dutch West Ind. and Am. Col. 
 East Indies, 
 
 England, Man, and Berwick, . 
 
 Scotland, 
 
 Ireland, 
 
 Guernsey, Jersey, Alderney, and 
 Sark, 
 
 Gibraltar, 
 
 British East Indies, .... 
 West Indies, .... 
 
 Newfoundland, and British Fish- 
 eries, 
 
 British American Colonies, 
 
 * Other British Colonies . . 
 
 Hamburgh, and the Hanse 
 Towns, 
 
 Domestic 
 
 Produce. 
 
 409,321 
 
 . 58,361 
 
 400,848 
 
 477,211 
 
 1,081,618 
 
 . 16,073 
 
 2,064,158 
 
 1,600,667 
 
 . 80,176 
 
 8,552,764 
 
 1,561,350 
 
 1,391,333 
 
 282,212 
 
 242,248 
 
 . 16,452 
 
 6,315,667 
 
 175,597 
 
 807,709 
 
 . 1,185 
 
 949,454 
 
 Foreign Pro- 
 duce. 
 776,795 
 64,045 
 168,721 
 1,115,965 
 642,388 
 13,368 
 11,757,002 
 848,365 
 97,049 
 •1,226,394. 
 140,888 
 36,298 
 
 15,252 
 
 74,359 
 
 113,820 
 
 731,991 
 
 32,666 
 
 111,263 
 
 564 
 
 3,525,553 
 
 • Total of the exports to Britain, 21,829,802 dollars
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 649 
 
 French Europ. Ports in the At- 
 lantic, 
 
 French Europ. Ports in the Me- 
 diterranean, 
 
 French West Ind. and Colonies, 
 
 Bourbon and Mauritius, . . . 
 
 Spanish European Ports on the 
 Atlantic, 
 
 Spanish European Ports on the 
 Mediterranean, 
 
 The Canary Islands, .... 
 
 The Floridas, 
 
 * Louisiana, 
 
 Honduras,Campeachy, and Mos- 
 quito shore, 
 
 Spanish West Indies and Col. 
 
 Portugal, 
 
 Madeira, 
 
 The Azores, 
 
 Cape de Verd Isles, .... 
 
 Other African Ports, .... 
 
 Brazil and other Am. Colonies, 
 
 Italy, 
 
 Triest, and other Austrian Ports 
 on the Adriatic, 
 
 Turkey, Levant, and Egypt, . 
 
 Morocco, and Barbary, . 
 
 Cape of Good Hope, .... 
 
 China, . 
 
 East Indies, (generally,) . . 
 
 West Indies, (ditto,) .... 
 
 Europe, (ditto,) . .... 
 
 Africa, (ditto,) 
 
 South Seas, 
 
 North-West Coast of America, 
 
 Domestic 
 Produce. 
 
 3,139,206 
 
 . 80,906 
 
 1,742,368 
 
 1 20,042 
 
 1,628,079 
 
 676,114 
 
 120,084 
 
 . 60,738 
 
 117,430 
 
 149,544 
 1,725,662 
 1,282,169 
 
 586,860 
 
 8,957 
 
 . 88,273 
 
 . 10,834 
 
 118,441 
 
 . 85,835 
 
 . 12,681 
 
 8,657 
 
 108,190 
 
 162,806 
 
 258,090 
 
 2,352,042 
 
 . 86,827 
 
 221,788 
 
 . 10,000 
 
 . 20,641 
 
 Foreign Pro- 
 duce. 
 
 5,384,523 
 
 220,419 
 
 1,867,522 
 
 221,125 
 
 517,043 
 
 80,100 
 61,101 
 22,885 
 
 207,717 
 
 184,829 
 
 1,165,998 
 
 190,716 
 
 135,802 
 
 8,648 
 
 30,533 
 
 46,287 
 
 107,770 
 
 1,552,708 
 
 247,963 
 
 51,975 
 
 675 
 
 59,727 
 
 35,795 
 
 538,226 
 
 972,252 
 
 534,064 
 
 126,248 
 
 175,418 
 
 Total, 77,699,074 
 
 Table of the £xfiorls from each State. Value in Dollars. 
 
 From New Hampshire, . . . 
 
 Massachusetts, 
 
 Vermont, 
 
 Rhode Island, 
 
 Connecticut, 
 
 New York, 
 
 New Jersey, 
 
 Delaware, 
 
 Maryland, 
 
 District of Columbia, .... 
 
 Virginia, 
 
 North Carolina, 
 
 South Carolina, 
 
 Georgia, 
 
 Pennsylvania, 
 
 Territory of the United States, 
 
 Domestic. 
 
 455,594 
 6,505,122 
 
 135,903 
 
 917,736 
 1,486,882 
 7,501,096 
 . 24,829 
 
 180,081 
 3,958,140 
 1,157,895 
 5,394,903 
 
 919,545 
 5,142,100 
 2,003,227 
 4,178,715 
 1,729,184 
 
 Foreign. 
 
 262,697 
 
 10,591,256 
 
 55,795 
 
 817,955 
 
 29,288 
 
 8,580,185 
 
 517,315 
 5,213,099 
 
 294,503 
 
 395,098 
 
 9,142 
 
 2,509,516 
 
 74,545 
 
 6,851,444 
 
 280,239 
 
 Total, 77,699,074 
 
 The exports from America, of her own produce and 
 manufactures, during the year 1805, were valued at 
 42,205,961 ; of which 16,459,766 went to Great Britain. 
 
 Of her exports, bolli of foreign and domestic produce, 
 22,063,277 dollars arc sent to Britain and her colonies ; 
 8,245,013 to France and her colonies; 5,523,428 to Hol- 
 land and her colonies; and 4,533,539 to Spain and her 
 colonies. 
 
 Exfiortu from Tcrrituries or Placet lately 
 •formititr no pan of the Union. 
 
 Domestic. 
 
 Detroit, 38,028 
 
 Michilimackinac, 238,936 
 
 Massac, (for the fourth quarter 
 
 • of 1803,) 
 
 Fort Adams, (for ditto,) . . . . 60,127 
 New Orleans, (from 1 st Janua- 
 ry, to 13th Sept. 1804,) . . 1,393,093 
 
 occufiied or 
 Foreign. 
 
 17,520 
 4,650 
 
 Total, 1,959,423 
 
 Of the value of the imports into the United States, 
 we have seen no very accurate and comprehensive ac- 
 counts. According to Dr Barton, the manufactured 
 goods from the British dominions in Europe and Asia, 
 were equal, A. D. 1802, to 27,000,000 of dollars; and 
 those from other countries to 10,000,000. The manufac- 
 tured produce, as wine, tea, and salt, distilled spirits, 
 &c. imported from places not British, was equal at the 
 same period to 30,000,000, and that from the British 
 dominions to 3,000,000. 
 
 While the people of the United States have directed 
 their attention to commerce, they have not been un- 
 mindful of literature. The number of institutions for 
 the cultivation and advancement of learning, is consi- 
 derable. 
 
 I. Harvard University, in Cambridge, Massachu- 
 setts. This university was established by the general 
 court of the province, A. D. 1658; and two years after 
 was liberally endowed by the rev. John Harvard, from 
 whom it takes its name. Its public buildings are. Har- 
 vard Hall, Massachusetts' Hall, Hollis' Hall, and Hol- 
 den Chapel. In the year 1787, the library attached to 
 Harvard Hall consisted of 12,000 volumes; its philo- 
 sophical apparatus cost 1500/. 2. Yale College, in 
 Connecticut; founded A. D. 1700, and rebuilt A. D. 
 1750. Its principal benefactor was Governor Yale. 3. 
 The College of William and Mary, in Virginia; found- 
 ed about the same time with Yale College. To this 
 college a considerable donation was given by the Hon. 
 Mr Boyle ; and here, too, a professorship was instituted 
 by the same gentleman for the instruction of the In- 
 dians. It has at present only a few students, chiefly in 
 law. 4. King's Cpllege, in New York ; founded A. D. 
 1754, by the British parliament. It is now called Co- 
 lumbia College, and has about two hundred students. 5. 
 Nassau Hall, at Princeton, in New Jersey ; founded by 
 John Hamilton, esq. A. D. 1758, and enlarged, A. D. 
 1747, by governor Belcher. Some of the most eminent 
 theological writers of America, as Dickenson and Ed- 
 wards, have been presidents of this college. There is 
 another college called Queen's College, at Brunswick, in 
 the same province, but it is now little frequented. 6. Dart- 
 mouth College, at Hanover, in New Hampshire ; founded 
 A. D. 1769, by Dr Wheelock. This is the chief resort 
 of the youth from the northern provinces. 7. Dickenson 
 iQollegc, at Carlisle, in Pennsylvania, founded in 1 783, and 
 
 Vol. I. Part XL 
 
 • From October 1st to December 1st, inclusive. 
 
 4N
 
 650 
 
 AiMEUlCA. 
 
 named after his excellency John Dickenson, one of the 
 presidents of the slate. 8. Franklin College, at Lancas- 
 ter, in the same province ; founded 1787, for tlie instruc- 
 tion of children belonging to the Germans in the lan- 
 guage of their country. It bears the name of the cele- 
 brated Dr Franklin. Besides these colleges, there are in 
 Pennsylvania many societies for the promotion of know- 
 ledge. Here the American Philosophical Society was 
 established A. D. 1769; and it has since (in the years 
 1771 and 1786) published two volumes of ;ts transac- 
 tions.* The university of Pennsylvania was founded at 
 Philadelphia during the war with Great Britain. The 
 American College of Physicans was instituted at the 
 same place, A. U. 1787. 9. Washington College, at 
 Chester Town, in Maryland; founded A. D. 1802. 10. 
 Jefferson College ; a late institution, in the Mississippi 
 territory. 11. The University of Georgia, at Louis- 
 ville ; likewise a new foundation, and possessing funds 
 to the amount of 50,000 acres of land. 
 
 Of the religion of the United States, it Is not neces- 
 sary to say much. Its general character is the reformed 
 system of Christianity ; but there is no church established 
 by law, and every sect is treated with universal tolera- 
 tion, or rather with equal independence. The following 
 sects are more or less prevalent throughout the United 
 States. The Congregationalists, Presbyterians, 
 Dutch Reformed Church, Episcopalians, Baptists, 
 Quakers, Methodists, Roman Catholics, German 
 Lutherans, German Calvinists, Moravians, Tun- 
 KERs, Mennonists, Univers ALisTs, and Shakers. 
 (See Pinkerton's Geogra/ihy, iii. 52.) Of the relative 
 numbers of the different sects, an idea may be formed 
 from the statements of Morse, who thus enumerates 
 those of Massachusetts. 
 
 _ Congrega- Number of each 
 
 beets. tions. denomination. 
 
 Congregationalists, .400 277,600 
 
 Baptists, .... 84 58,296 
 
 Episcopalians, ... 16 11,104 
 
 Quakers, .... 10 6,940 
 
 Presbyterians, ... 4 2,776 
 
 Universalists, ... 2 1,388 
 
 Roman Catholics, . . 1 694 
 
 Sir 358,798 
 
 Carrazana's Geografih. Descrijit. of the Coasts of the 
 Hfianish West Indies, Lond. 1740. Chantreau, Science de 
 I'Histoire, tom. iii. p. 194, et sec/. Pinkerton's Geog. vol. 
 iii. ed. 1807. Morse's Geografihy of the United States, 
 passim. Marshall's Life of Washington. 
 
 * Since that time, the tliird, fourth, and fifth, and the 
 first part of the sixth volume, have been published. 
 
 Editors. 
 
 Grotii Dissertation, de Origin. Gent. .Imcnc. et A^ot, 
 in casdem Joannis de Lait. Mather's America known to 
 the ylncients. Monson's Naval Tracts, to be found in 
 Churchill's Collection, iii. 371, et set/. Nicholson's Jour- 
 nal, p. 73. Gomara, Hist. Gen. de las Indias, c. 13. 
 Herrera Hist. Gen. dec. i. lib. 1. c. 2. Powell's Jlistoria 
 Cambrix ad ann. 1170. Hackluyt's Voyages, 'in. ^. 1. Fhil. 
 Trans, vol. Iviii. p. 91. Lyttelton's Hist. Hen. II. b. 5. 
 p. 571, Notes. The Saga, or Chronicle of Olaus, pub. at 
 Stockholm, A. D. 1697. Mallet, Introd. a C Histoire de 
 Uannem.p. \75,et sec/. Marcus Paulus rfe Region. Orient. 
 lib. ii. c. 70. lib. iii. c. 2. Life of Columbus, in Chur- 
 chill's Collect, ii. 509. Murr's Dissert, on the Globe of 
 Behaim. Lettres Americaines, par Carli, tom. i. p. 22, 
 Note, and tom. ii. fiassim. Robertson's America, vol. i. 
 Note xvii, and p. 289, et seij. 8vo. Memoircs, par Ulloa, 
 disc. xxii. tom. ii. p. 105, et les Add. p. 474. Quir's Terra 
 Australis Incog. Smith on the Varieties of the Human 
 Sjiecies, Jiassim. 
 
 De Bry's Collect, tom. iii. 8cc. Churchill's Collect. 
 ii. iii. Sec. Ramusio, Racolto delle Navigatione et Viaggi. 
 3 vols. fol. Acosta Novi Orb. Hist, fiassim. Herrera. 
 Hist. Gen. translated into English by Stevens, 6 vols. 
 Gumilla, Hist, de COrenoque, 3 vols. Lafilau, Mmirs des 
 Sauvages, 2 vols. Adair's Hist, of the Am. Ind. Char- ' 
 levoix. Hist, de la .A''ouvelle France. Rechcrches PMloso- 
 ]ihiques sur les Americ. par M. de Pauw. Oviedo. Lettres 
 Americaines, par Carli, 2 vols. Memoires, par Ulloa, 2 
 vols. Long's Travels, 4to. Mackenzie's Travels, 4to. 
 Brickell's Hist, of Carolina. Bancroft's Hist, of Guiana. 
 De la Potherie. Bossu's Travels through Louisiana. 
 Volney oyi the Soil and Climate of America, 2 vols. Paris, 
 8vo. Ulloa, Voyage. Histor. de C Amerique Meridionale, 
 2 tom. Techo's Account of Paraguay. Dumont, Me- 
 moire sur Louisiane. Clavigero, Hist, of Mexico, Dissert. 
 Lettres Edifiantes et Curieuses. Prevot, Hist. Gen. des 
 Voyages. Lery, Hint, de V Amerique. Ellis, Voyage to 
 Hudson's Bay. Malthus o?; /"o/ju/aijon, vol. i. Falkener's 
 Desc. of Patagonia. Condamine, Relation abreg. d'un 
 Voyage dans I'ent. de I'Ameriq. Merid. Misst. 1778. (This 
 edit, contains the Narrative of Mad. Godin.) "Rovde, Des- 
 cription des Caraibes. 
 
 Hackluyt's Voyag. i. 213, Sec. and iii. 129, Ecc. Cama, 
 Annates, p. 70. edit. 1615, fol. Stith, Hist, of Virginia. 
 p. 35, &c. Smith's Travels, fiassim. Strachy's Account 
 of the Shipwreck of Gates and Summers, pub. by Purchase 
 iv. 1734. Beverley, Hist, of Virgin. Rymer, xvii. 618, 
 &c. Chalmers's .^«"a/ir, i. 118, &c. Neale's Hist, of 
 tlie Puritans, i. 138, &c. Hutchin. Hist, of Massaclius. 
 p. 4, &c. and Hutch. Coll. of Papers, p. 25, &c. Charle- 
 voix, Hist, de la Nouvelle France. Life of the Earl of 
 Chatham. SmoUet's Hist, of England, Geo. III. Bel- 
 sham's Reign of Geo. III. Marshall's Life of Washing- 
 ton, 5 vols. Ramsay's Life of Wash. Stedman's Account 
 of the Americ. J/ar, 2 vols. The Federalist. Hillhousc 
 on the Amend, of the Am. Constitut. passim, (/i) 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Abercrombl* is defeated at Ticoftderoga, 
 page 624. 
 
 -Ujoriginal ir.li;tbitmits of the United 
 States. fa2. 
 
 Account of the religion of the Indians 
 iiiacctiiate and dtft-clive, 595, 
 
 Agriculture of the Indians. 588. 
 
 An-, a common opiniun with regfii"d to, 
 uiifouiuled. 584. 
 
 Algonquin wo:T)aii,e\traui-diiiao narra- 
 tive of, 591. 
 
 America, eeog^'aphisal position of, 578. 
 alleged to be colder than the 
 corresponding; parallels in the 
 aucieni eoiitinrnt, 583. 
 how first peopled, 608. 
 Araericus Vespueius visits the New World 
 
 after Columbus, 582. 
 Andv^. Mijor, his iinhajipy fate, 64^. 
 Aniiuals of warm chmates fuuud in 
 America, 611. 
 of warm climates how ihey may 
 have been driven lowai'ds iliG 
 North, ib. 
 
 Armament of Columbus, its size, 580. 
 Arnold is defeated at Quebec, 635. 
 
 his Irenfhi-iy, 6-l2. 
 Arrows of the Indians, 583. 
 Articles of Indian agriculture, ib. 
 
 B 
 Bacon's i-ebellion in Virginia, 616. 
 Bahama Isles, the character of the peo- 
 pie found there by Columbus, 
 
 585. 
 
 Bai'barous custom common in some parts 
 of America, 606. 
 
 Battle of Brooklyn, 636. 
 
 of Bunkf-r'aHill, 633. 
 of Lexington, ib. 
 Beards, the American Indians eradicate 
 
 them, 607. 
 Bogotans, their religion, 503. 
 Bones of an extraordinaiy magnitude 
 
 found in America, 610. 
 Bords, curious fact related by him, 
 
 586. 
 Boston founded, 617. 
 
 resistance niade there to the 
 duty on lea, 630.
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 G5J. 
 
 Braddock, General, is dcleated and kill- 
 ed, 623. 
 
 Brownists, iliey funml tlie colony of New 
 PlymoiHli. 616. 
 
 BUfgoyne's e\|HHlilion, 639. 
 
 he is tlet'eated, and capitulates, 
 639. 
 
 Cacique, striking address of one to Gu- 
 milla, 588, 
 
 Canoes of the Indians, description of 
 them, 602. 
 
 ChaHestown is destroyed by fire. 622. 
 
 Children, treiitinent of among; the In> 
 diaiis, fioo. 
 
 Chimhoraco, its height, 582. 
 
 Circumstances that have led some tribes 
 to worsliip malignant deities, 
 590. 
 
 Claims of different nations to the disco- 
 very of America, 578. 
 
 Climate of America, 613. 
 
 of America, i(s mean tempera- 
 ture probaldy not different 
 from the general standard, 
 582. 
 
 CUnton, sir Henry, evacuates Philadel- 
 phia, 640. 
 
 Close fighting, as pi-aetised among the 
 Indians, 5^2. 
 
 Colonies established in Noi-lb America, 
 612. 
 of America unite for mutual 
 defence, 618. 
 
 Circumstances tliat coneurred to engage 
 Columbus in a voyage ot dis- 
 covery, 579. 
 
 Colun^us is patronized by Isabella, 530. 
 his character, ib. 
 ^ he marks the variation of tlie 
 compass, 581. 
 discovers the New Worhl, ib. 
 
 ComplexiAn of the American Indians, 
 606. 
 
 Confederation of the American States, 
 644. 
 
 Congress declares the colonies Indepen- 
 dent, 635. 
 
 Considerations uhrch led to the belief 
 that the New JN'orld existed, 
 579. 
 
 Continent of Amt rlca, its general aspect, 
 582. • 
 
 Cornwailis surrenders. -e^S. 
 
 Cromwell prevented from going to Ame- 
 rica, 618. 
 
 Cyuelty of the Indians to^\"ards their pri- 
 sonei"s of war, 593. 
 
 Causes preventive of a complete equa- 
 lization of temperature, 584. 
 
 Cultivation has no real effect in chang- 
 ing the mean temperature. lb. 
 
 Custom among the Indians of adopting 
 prisoners of war, 593. 
 of a similar nature among the 
 Romans in the early periods 
 of the commonwealth, ib. 
 
 Dances of the American Indians, 604. 
 
 Death of general Wolfe, 625. 
 
 Dexterity of the Indians in the chase, 
 wlience arising, 587. 
 
 Difficulty of forming ihe conception of a 
 Supreme Being, 596. 
 
 Difficulties with respect to the peopling 
 of America, 610. 
 
 Dissensions at Massachusetts, 620. 
 
 Discontents of the Americans, 623. 
 
 Domestic state of the American Indians, 
 599. 
 
 Divisions comprehended under North 
 America, 573. 
 comprehended under South 
 America, ib. 
 
 Division of the Indians into small com- 
 munities, whence arising, 589. 
 
 Doubts with regaixl to the supposed pre- 
 valence of cold in America, 
 584. 
 
 Dress of the American Indians, 600, 
 
 Duties, all of them taken off in the colo- 
 nies, except those on tea, 630. 
 
 Effect of elevation on the temperature of 
 the air, 584. 
 
 Immigration from Europe, causes which 
 led to it. 616. 
 
 Eastern coast of America, its climate 
 milder than in the countries 
 of Asia and Africa which lie 
 in the same latitude, 583. 
 
 Esquimaux, their complexion and sta- 
 ture, 608. 
 
 Europe, tJie adventurous disposition of 
 
 its northern inhabitants, 609. 
 Expedition against Philadelphia, 637. 
 
 F 
 
 Facts w'hich Keem to prove a correspon- 
 deuce in the mean tempera- 
 ture of America with that of 
 the corresponding parallels in 
 Europe and Asia, 584, 
 
 Famine often telt by the nations of the 
 Anu-riian eontiiient. 588. 
 
 Feast of the dead, an neeount of it, 606, 
 
 Features of Ihe Americitn Indians, 608. 
 
 Fish, how caught liy ihe American In- 
 dians, 587. 
 
 Fondness oi the Indians for games of 
 Iia2ai-d, 605. 
 
 Foresight, how the w;uil of It affects the 
 state ul' the American tribes, 
 586. 
 
 Fort William Heni'>' surrendei-s, 623. 
 
 Fortitude of the Indians under tortures, 
 how accounted for, 593. 
 
 Franklin, Dr, a fact mentioned by him 
 illustrative of tJie nature of 
 the American climate, 583. 
 
 Funerals among some tribes distinguish- 
 ed by a remarkable custom, 
 598. 
 
 General Gage removes the assembly 
 
 from Boston to Salem, 631. 
 he fortifies Boston Neck, 633, 
 Games of the American Indians, 605. 
 General Gates defeated near Cambden, 
 
 642. 
 Gi'eenland, probably a part of America, 
 
 609. 
 Gumilla, curious particulars related by 
 
 him, 588. 
 G>7nnastic exercises of the Indians, 605, 
 
 H 
 
 Hair, how dressed by the women of South 
 
 America, 601. 
 Heat of any place, how depending on the 
 
 latitude, 584. 
 how ditiusedby the atmosphere, 
 
 ib. 
 Howe, general, addresses a letter to 
 
 Washington, 635. 
 Hudson's Bay, tiie extreme intensity of 
 
 the winter there, 583, 
 Human species, as existing in America, 
 
 584. 
 sprung from a single pair, 608. 
 Humidity of the American climate, 583, 
 Hunting, (he skill of tlie Indians in this 
 
 particular, 587. 
 Huts of the Indians, 602. 
 
 Independence of the American States 
 
 acknowledged, 644. 
 Indians of America, their mental attain- 
 ments, 585. 
 they have no tame animals, 589. 
 have incorrect notions of pro- 
 perty, 590. 
 their equality & independence, ib. 
 Indians, the different charms and amu- 
 lets used by ihem, 597. 
 their indifference towards their 
 
 women, to what owing, 600. 
 adilicted to the excessive use of 
 
 intoxicating liquors, 605. 
 their indolence, 603, 
 Iroquois, the state of society among 
 
 them, 590. 
 Islands of the New World, how called 
 
 the West Indies, 582. 
 Isthmus of Panama, its breadth. 578. 
 Introduction to the American war, 627. 
 
 Kalb, baron de, his death, 642. 
 
 Karnes, lord, his opinion with regard to 
 
 the manner in which the earth 
 
 was peopled, 6o3. 
 Knowledge of agriculture circumscribed 
 
 among the Indians, and from 
 
 what causes, 588. 
 
 La Plata River, breadth of it, 582. 
 Lakes of America, ib. 
 Language of the American tribes, 603. 
 Laws, unknown among the American 
 
 tribes, 586. 
 Leibnitz, his observation with respect to 
 
 games. 605, 
 
 Locke, his constitution fnr the colonics 
 
 rejected in Carolina, 622. 
 Louisbourg taken, ib. 
 
 M 
 
 Mammoth, the entire body of one IWunil 
 near the mouth of ih»' Lena, 
 610. 
 
 Man, his limited attainments in (he 
 early stages of society, 585, 
 
 Marriage, founded in the nature and 
 circumstances of the human 
 being, 599. 
 
 Martin,- Behaint, an account of his dis- 
 co veries. 578. 
 
 Massacres of the Kngltsh colony in Vir- 
 ginia. 615. 
 
 Means of averting calaniities ined by 
 the Atiierican iril«s, 597. 
 
 Members of the first American congi'ess, 
 632. 
 
 Montreal surrenders. 626. 
 
 Mountains of America, 578, 
 
 N 
 
 Natchez, their religion, 597. 
 
 Natives of America, in what resembling 
 
 the ancient Germans, 536. 
 Florida, distinct ion of' mnks 
 
 among ihem, 590. 
 Negroes, why not found in America, 
 
 607. 
 Navigation act complainevl of by the 
 
 colonies, 615. 
 New York evacuated by the Americans, 
 
 636. 
 
 New England, its first export, 6iR. 
 
 North America, its geographical position, 
 578. 
 discovered by whom, 612, 
 
 Notions of the Indians respecting a fu- 
 ture state, 598. 
 
 O 
 
 Ohio company formed. 622, 
 
 Orators among the Indians,address them- 
 selves to their feelings of re- 
 venge, 59J. 
 
 Origin of government among the In- 
 dians, 586. 
 of that spirit of independence 
 observable i n the Indian cha- 
 racter, 587. 
 
 Painting the body, universality of the 
 
 practice among savage na- 
 tions, 601. 
 Parental authority, nature of it among 
 
 the Indians, 600. 
 Particulars respecting the natives of 
 
 America, 604. 
 Passion of the Indians for strong liquors^ 
 
 cause of it. 605. 
 Patagonians, their gig.iniic stature, 608. 
 Peculiarities in the boilily appearance of 
 
 the Indians accounted for, 
 
 607. 
 Pequods exterminated, 618. 
 Pitt raised to the head of administration 
 
 in England, 623. 
 Philadelphia taken, 638. 
 Political state of the American Indians, 
 
 586._ 
 Political association, first steps towards 
 
 it among some tribes, 590. 
 Port Royal taken by the colomsts, 620. 
 Presumptions that America has been 
 
 peopled from Greenland, 609, 
 Property, the notion of it how generated, 
 
 590. 
 
 Putnam defeated, 636. 
 
 Qualifications bodily, the chief cause of 
 distinction amongthe Indians, 
 
 Qualifications bodily, from what circum- 
 stances held m so high esteem, 
 ib. 
 
 Quebec, itsstrengtli, 624. 
 
 R 
 
 Regular government not established 
 among the Indians, 586. 
 
 Red colour, \% hy predominant among tlie 
 Amencan Indians, 607. 
 
 Religion of the American tribes. 595. 
 
 Religious notions considered in reference 
 to their objects, 596. 
 
 Resemblance between the Eastern Asia- 
 ties anil the Americans, 610. 
 
 Resolutions against the siamft act, 629. 
 
 Rhode Island, tUc colony of, founded , 
 
 617. 
 
 Kibas, his ob'M-rvation on the habitations 
 of the Ciiialoans, 602. 
 
 Kivf-rsof America, 578 and 582. 
 
 U<jl>crtion, Dr, his account of the cli- 
 mate of America, 583. 
 
 Salcm, the first town of Massachusetts, 
 
 617. 
 
 San Salvador, the first land discovered 
 
 hy (,'olumbui. 582. 
 Savage state described, 585. 
 
 trilK-8 of America careless of 
 
 futurity, 586. 
 Savages of America itistinguished into 
 
 four cbsscs, 587. 
 Siege of Louisbourg, 623. 
 Signs used by the Indians to express theii 
 
 ideas, 604. 
 South America, iu geographical position, 
 
 578. 
 Spaniards, whether they had any right 
 
 to occupy America. 581. 
 South America, its primary languages, 
 
 603. 
 Specimen of Indian eloquence, 591. 
 Speech of Dr Franklin, 645. 
 Stamp act passed, 628. 
 repealed, 629. 
 Stature of the American Indians, 6o«. 
 Subsistence, means of procuring it in the 
 
 New World, 587. 
 how procured in the islands of 
 
 the New Worid, 583. 
 Superiority of the Europeans and Asia- 
 tics in agiiculiure, to what 
 
 owing, ib. 
 
 Temperature of any place, how best as- 
 certained, 584. 
 of the air at any elevation, in- 
 versely proportional to what, 
 ib. 
 
 Ticonderoga taken, 638. 
 
 Tobacco greatly used by the Indians, 
 604. 
 
 Treatment of the prisoners of war in 
 South America. 595. 
 
 Treaty between Fi-ance and the Uuited 
 States, 640, 
 
 U 
 
 TJlIoa, his account of the dress of the 
 Indians, 601. 
 
 Ulmens, or caciques, the extent of their 
 authority, 586. 
 
 United States, their boundaries, popu- 
 lation, chief towns, rivets, 
 mountains, bays, capes, &e. 
 612. 
 
 Varieties in the complexion of the human 
 species, to what owing, 606, 
 
 Villages of the Indians, a description of 
 them, 602. 
 
 Vindictive temper of the Nonh Ameri- 
 cans, 586. 
 
 Virginia, histor>' of the establishment of 
 this colony, 6l3. 
 sudden changes in its tempera- 
 ture, 583. 
 curious phenomenon obser\able 
 there, ib. 
 
 "W 
 
 Wampum belts, what and how used, 604, 
 War, now earned on hy the Indians, 5QI. 
 Wat dance, an account of it, 604, 
 song of the Indians, 595, 
 with the P. quods, 618. 
 with the Indians, 619. 
 Washington is amioinied to the com- 
 mand of the American troops, 
 634. 
 compels the English to evacuate 
 
 Boston, ib. 
 retreats, 636. 
 compelled to retire at the Bran- 
 
 dj'wine. 638. 
 his virtue and moderation, 644, 
 Weapons of the Imlians, 602. 
 While men found in the isthmus of Da- 
 
 rien. 607. 
 Wigwams of the Indians, description of 
 
 them. 602. 
 Wolfe, general, his tharacter, 625. 
 Woman. Indian, alfecting speech of. 599. 
 Women, Indian, their dtagraded con(U- 
 tion. ib. 
 the>- bear few ehirdren, 600, (h) 
 
 4N -2
 
 652 
 
 A31ER1CA. 
 
 The following adtlitional facts and observations re- 
 specting the United Slates of America, have been fur- 
 nished by Tench Coxe, Esq. 
 
 The actual situation of the United States of America, 
 at this time, is among the most interesting subjects of 
 contemplation for the wise, the virtuous, and the pru- 
 dent, throughout the world. From the day, on which 
 the unskilful and half civilized Europeans, in the early 
 part of the seventeenth century, sent forth their colo- 
 nists to the American forests, little more than two hun- 
 dred years have elapsed. Whatever were " the tahnta" 
 with which this people have been intrusted by divine 
 providence, it is believed, that it will be found that they 
 have not been retained, during their short but eventful 
 iiistory, in a state of neglect. 
 
 The condition of religious liberty, compared with that 
 of other countries, is the most favourable on the records 
 of history, under the federal constitution. It is equally 
 favourable under the constitutions of most of the states; 
 and there is very little to amend, on this subject, in 
 those states, whose constitutions are not perfectly fa- 
 vourable. The condition of things, on this subject, hi 
 actual practice, under the existing laws, is very gene- 
 rally sound and unexceptionable ; and though there ap- 
 pears occasionally a little to correct, yet upon the whole, 
 this all-important department of human affairs is an- 
 nually tending towards greater practical perfection. In 
 this most curious and most interesting state of the reli- 
 gious and ecclesiastical affairs of a numerous, diversi- 
 fied, and free people, it is a highly comfortable truth, 
 that general morality, and particularly those parts of the 
 great moral field, which include the precious institutions 
 of education and humanity, steadily improve. The seeds 
 of religious knowledge must be of the right kinds, — 
 they must be sown in a fit soil, since they are cast upon 
 it with a free hand, and bring foith good and increasing 
 fruits, through a series of harvests. To dispense and 
 to receive the blessings of an unshackled conscience, 
 well informed, fits our species for its highest destinies, 
 in the two worlds. 
 
 It is on the rock of religious liberty, which lies as a 
 broad and deep substratum, under the United States of 
 America, that their civil liberties are happily founded. 
 Hence we find, that the rules and morality of religion 
 have been the principal instruments opposed to the con- 
 tinuance of the trade in slaves. These have been aided 
 by considerations of sound policy, and man can no longer 
 enter into the American territory, in a state of enslave- 
 ment. The wide and horrible ruin, which would inevi- 
 tably follow the emancipation of the whole of the co- 
 loured people in the United Slates, will be candidly 
 considered by those at home who are unconnected with 
 this description of persons, and by those abroad, who 
 turn their minds towards our situation and our conduct. 
 The system of gradually abolishing slavery, wherever it 
 is safe to do so, has reduced the number of slaves, in the 
 states lying north of Delaware and Maryland, to a pro- 
 portion of less than one person in every hundred. In 
 those two states, the business of abolition constantly 
 proceeds ; and in the more southern states, where the 
 attempt would draw down awful miseries upon the 
 blacks, as well as on the whites, the condition of the 
 slaves is really and steadily ameliorating, while their 
 constant diffusion among more numerous whites is in- 
 creasing the safety of measures of emancipation. 
 
 It is this religion also, which successfully teaches us 
 
 no longer to maledict, to oppress, or to beguile of their 
 lands, the untutored Indians, who live on our extended 
 borders. American justice authorizes the Indians to 
 dispose of their property without any coercion or limita- 
 tion of price. Like the white natives on the British 
 and American sections of our ancient empire, they can- 
 not sell at common law, to any alien. The process of 
 mitigating the ferocity of tlie Indians by civilization is 
 a constant object of public attention. The rights of con- 
 science are secured to the Africans and to the American 
 Indians. 
 
 With the momentary exceptions of these coloured 
 races, circumstanced as we see they are at this time, 
 constitutional liberty is extended to all the people of 
 the United States. An equality of rights is universally 
 enjoyed, except in the cases of paupers and of certain 
 elections; such as those of the governors of some of the 
 states. The rights to own and bear arms, to fish and to 
 hunt in waters and on land which do not belong to 
 others, to erect schools and places of divine worship, 
 to pursue every occupation and profession, to manufac- 
 ture, deal in and export all things, to hold and elect to 
 office, belong to all. 
 
 There were in the year 1807, seventy -nine universi- 
 ties, colleges, and academies within the United States ; 
 and many others have been since established. The 
 private schools are almost innumerable ; and measures 
 for extending the useful and elegant instruction of the 
 rising generation, male and female, are steadily pursued. 
 
 The militia of the United States embraces all the 
 free white males of the proper ages-, and exceeds, in 
 number, twelve hundred thousand. It is the army of 
 the constitution. They have all tlie right, even in pro- 
 found peace, to purchase, keep and use arms of every 
 description. Provisions to a great extent are made by 
 such purchases, and by the exertions of the federal, 
 state, and territorial governments. It may be conve- 
 nient to state in this place, that the whole population 
 will probably exceed seven millions and six hundred 
 thousand persons in the second quarter of the year 1812. 
 
 The seamen of the United States were computed in 
 the year 1807 at 70,000 persons. The tonnage of the 
 decked vessels was about 1,000,000 in the same year. 
 The value of the imports was 107,000,000 dollars, and 
 that of the exports was 108,344,225 dollars, of which 
 48,700,000 dollars were of the growth or manufacture 
 of the country. No cotton was produced at home and 
 exported in the first year of the federal government. 
 The quantity exported in 1807, exceeded sixty millions 
 of pounds weight, besides a great quantity consumed in 
 the domestic manufacture. 
 
 One hundred and eighty, or perhaps more, incorpo- 
 rated or associated Banks and Ensurance companies, 
 manifest an extensive internal and foreign trade. Their 
 capitals were ninety or one hundred millions of dollars, 
 ill 1807. 
 
 The manufactures of the United States consume all 
 our wool, which amounts to thirteen millions of pounds 
 weight per annum. They also consume all our flax, 
 hemp, hides and skins, iron and lead, and much of our 
 cotton. Besides our own productions of these things 
 we import much iron, hides and skins, flax, hemp, lead, 
 and some wool. All of these are manufactured. There 
 appears the best reason to affirm, that three fourth-parts 
 of all the manufactures consumed in the United States, 
 arc made in our own families, shops, and manufactories. 
 Ships and vessels, distilled spirits, beer, loaf sugar
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 e53 
 
 cheese, starch, as well as hats, shoes, iron wares, and 
 piece goods are meant to be included. 
 
 Any apparent decrease in the substance of our ex- 
 ports is I'uUy made up by the increase of our manufac- 
 tures. This will be evident, if we consider that our 
 produce in 1811 was withui 7 per cent, of our greatest 
 former year, and that of the 6u,000,uoO dollars, in fo- 
 reign goods, exported in 1807, a considerable quantity, 
 as in other trading coumries, merely passed ih rough 
 our ports. It is believed, that the hicrease in tlie cot- 
 ton manufacture alone, for home consumption, is equal 
 to the decrease of the exports oi our own produce and 
 manufactures. The decrease in tne importation of fo- 
 reign distilled spirits, and of molasses as the foreign 
 material for spirits, is countervailed by the increase of 
 the breweries and distilleries. Tnese produce an in- 
 crease of the domestic cooperage to make up for the 
 loss of the exportation of hoops, heading and staves. 
 The breweries and distilleries of Pennsylvania alone 
 have been estimated at four millions of dollars for the 
 year 1810. They were greater in 1811, and since rum 
 and brandy are greatly advanced in price, the breweries 
 and distilleries will flourish in 1812, far beyond all past 
 times. 
 
 The Merino breed of sheep is obtained in the United 
 States so as to ensure to us the utmost quantity of fine 
 wool, which we can want for our own use ; and as our 
 landed capital is, in effect, unlimited, the increase of the 
 fine wooUed Merinos, and of our own large stock of ex- 
 cellent common wooUed sheep, must be rapid and is 
 certain. The breeds of Lincolnshire, Leicestershire, 
 and Teeswater in England, are not yet numerous in the 
 United States. Their value to us has lately become 
 known ; and they will of course be industriously and 
 carefully increased. In the mean time strong cotton 
 substitutes for cheap woollen goods are judiciously ma- 
 nufactured. Many persons in this country are convinced, 
 that the exclusion of cotton goods from countries, which 
 do not make them out of our cotton, is necessary to the 
 prosperity of our agriculture, and the most sure method 
 of establishing for ever the cotton manufacture. It is 
 justly considered also as a measure which will aid the 
 growers and manufacturers of flax and hemp. 
 
 The people of America have proved the benefits to 
 themselves of manufactures in their own families, by 
 their female weavers, by labour-saving machinery and 
 by labour-saving processes. The manufactures of red 
 and white lead, for example, have suddenly absorbed all 
 of that raw material, which we can procure from our 
 own mines and by the most industrious importation. 
 The shot manufactory has been added in the same mo- 
 ment. 
 
 A few mills to roll, slit, and cut iron, and to make it 
 into nails, have made a complete revolution in that 
 branch. Machinery to bore cannon and small arms, and 
 to grind, cut and polish iron or steel, is spreading over 
 the face of the country. The art of casting the various 
 metals, of much importance to the value of our forests, 
 is greatly extended and improved. Operations by steam 
 have become frequent and familiar; and the pendulum 
 rnill, moved by the multiplication of the lever power, 
 promises a new and curious aid in every situation, how- 
 ever destitute of water and fuel, as the means of obtain- 
 ing the ordinary moving powers. To engrave the let- 
 ters, figures and emblems on a half-dollar piece would 
 occupy a considerable portion of a day. But the steam 
 engine and machinery of Bolton and Watt, at Soho in 
 
 England, manufactures thirty thousand pieces of coin 
 hi a single hour. To reduce a pound of metal to the 
 white lead pigment, by Uie labour of a chemist, would 
 be an operation of time ; but a few hands, in a little cheap 
 buiKling on the back of a house lot, can effect the manu- 
 facture of hundreds of tons in the course of a year, by 
 the known labour-saving process. This paint is the 
 most simply elegant and useful, which is consumed in 
 arciiitecture ; and it is the basis of many, which are du- 
 rable and e,\<iuisite. 
 
 The military manufactures, which are necessary to 
 the defence of the United Stales, have been denied to 
 tliem by the situation or the laws of several foreign 
 countries. Tliese thnigs have therefore been particu- 
 larly aided by the federal and state governments. The 
 manulacture of saltpetre has been brought to a state of 
 copious and regular production. 
 
 Most of the operations of the American people, in 
 their ordinary business, have been elicited by occasion. 
 Hence it is, that the desire of a market at the farmer's 
 door has led our women to the distaff and the loom, and 
 has created the distillery wherever there is produced a 
 surplus of grain. Hence also it is, that mill-carders, 
 spinners, fullers, weavers, hatters, shoemakers, smiths, 
 carriage-makers, and many other oi those useful work- 
 men, are found in all our states and many of our counties 
 and townships; and they often form a considerable por- 
 tion of the inhabitants of the cities, towns, villages and 
 hamlets. 
 
 The distance of the United States from the countries 
 which would consume their productions and furnish 
 their supplies, with the consequent charges of exporting 
 the first and importing the last, are found to operate as 
 a powerful encouragement to manufacturing in America, 
 The duties on entry and export in Europe, and of entry 
 here, add to the encouragement. This advantage, aris- 
 ing from the nature of things, can never fail or even be 
 diminished. 
 
 The constant excitement on the subject of manufac- 
 tures produced the cultivation of cotton, the introduc- 
 tion of the Merino sheep, and labour-saving machinery, 
 and successful experiments in the labour-saving pro- 
 cesses. It has also diffused a liberal and useful pursuit 
 of chemical science and practice, and many advantages 
 in the fossil department of natural history, and its rela- 
 tive arts and trades. 
 
 Of all the consequences produced by the successful 
 national industry of the United States, none is more 
 perceptible, more considerable, or more pleasing, than 
 the increased expenditures in the importation, manu- 
 facture and purchase of books, drawings and maps, and 
 descriptions, models, specimens, in the useful, liberal 
 and fine arts, and in the circle of the sciences. Nor 
 has the field of taste, of morals, or of religion, been 
 forgotten or undervalued. Our numerous gazettes, 
 however occupied_ by business, politics and party, are 
 great channels of valuable knowledge ; and periodical 
 publications, both professional and general, have every 
 where arisen. 
 
 The foreipn commerce of this country has sustained 
 many changes and trials. The wars, which have afflict- 
 ed Europe for nearly twenty years, have occasioned 
 passion and violence often to encroach upon peaceful 
 and regular neutral nations. Sometimes also the neu- 
 trals have been impelled by foreign injustice, or tempt- 
 ed by their own desires of gain, into commercial stra- 
 tagems and devices, subjectbg them to natural suspi-
 
 654 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 cions and lawful condemnations. The pretensions of 
 belligerents have been too far extended ; and the pro- 
 perly, flag, and persons of neutrals have been suujectcd 
 to illegitimate capture, abuse, and coercion. The in- 
 juries received from Ijcliigcrenl powers, and the various 
 expedients of our own country to prevent or to cure the 
 disorders of commerce, have reduced our operations in 
 the last year to less than two-thuds of their former 
 greatest amount. The exports of our own produce, in- 
 cluding tlie outlets by land, are not less perhaps than 
 in tlie greatest former instance ; but those of foreign 
 goods cannot amount lo one third -part of the year 1807. 
 The present, perhaps, as tlie moment of crisis, is that 
 of the utmost difficulty and suffering. The last year 
 however exhibited an expor.aiion of sixty-two millions 
 of dollars, which is nearly equal to fourteen millions 
 sterling ; a sum, which, in proportion to the total num- 
 ber of national population, is not equalled by the whole 
 dominions of any government in the world. No ex- 
 change between sister kingdoms under the same crown, 
 or between the metropolitan states and their own colo- 
 nies, can be fairly inuoduced in this comparison. 
 
 There is a great operation in the accumulation of 
 wealth in the United States, peculiar, in its degree, to 
 their affairs. The clearing of lands, the making ot new 
 roads, the erection of new bridges, dwellings, workshops 
 and manufactories, and other new establishments, and 
 the building of ships for sale, are the several parts of 
 this important operation, none of which can be exhibited 
 in the statement of those exports of merchandise, which 
 may have been mistaken for the total surplus prouuction 
 of our land and industry. Let us suppose, for example, 
 that two thousand families, in a section of the wooded 
 country of New York, Pennsylvania or Virginia, had 
 entered on the first day of the year upon two thousand 
 tracts of uncleared land, with a view, respectively, to 
 settle and improve one farm of two hundred acres. On 
 the last day of the same year they have respectively 
 cleared ten acres, erected their simple log dwellings, 
 and cover for their little stock of cattle, and sowed the 
 ten acres with seed wheat. In 1811, the year of the 
 operation, the whole mass of the land had produced 
 nothing, being universally under wood. At fifteen 
 bushels to the acre, it produces in 1812, an aggregate 
 quantity of 300,000 bushels, worth, moderately, as many 
 dollars. Three hundred thousand dollars at 5 per cent, 
 is the interest of a capital of six millions. The buildings 
 are erected of wood, and stone, which cost nothing, but 
 cumber the ground, and interfere with cultivation. In 
 like manner, rentable property is so fast created, that 
 Philadelphia and New York have each passed from the 
 forest state to the condition of comfortable and hand- 
 some cities of one hundred thousand persons ; and Bal- 
 timore, transcending all instances of private effort, un- 
 aided by a government or by redundant capital, has 
 risen to nearly half the numbers of Philadelphia and 
 New York in forty or fifty years. Thus it is, that our 
 farms are cut out of the forests, and our cities are ma- 
 nufactured by the hatchet and the trowel, out of the 
 spontaneous productions of the soil and the quarry. 
 By such means liave we grown in two centuries out of 
 unproductive wilds into a goodly land, producing in eacli 
 of two several years astonishing exportations, worth in 
 our markets one hundred seven millions and one half 
 of specie dollars. 
 
 Excluding from the estimate now proposed the value 
 of unimproved grounds in the towns, and forest lands 
 
 in the states and territories, it appears safe to estimate 
 the /ii-rjduclive real and personal estate (the cultivated 
 farms, stock, goods and money) of the people of this 
 country at three thousand millions of dollars. One hun- 
 dred and seven millions of dollars were the value of our 
 exports in 1806 ; and one hundred and eight millions 
 in 1807. Their value, in 181 1, was sixty-two millions 
 of dollars, besides ships sold abroad, and the stores of 
 vessels going to foreign countries, which are never 
 placed on the statements of exports. This sum, ac- 
 corduig to the rule ot the best economists or statistical 
 vyriters, is one third of the whole result of the national 
 industry, which would carry us to one hundred and 
 eighty six millions, the effective principal ot three thou- 
 sand one hundred millions of dollars. The provisions 
 of all ships, and the value of those sold abroad, are 
 thrown in to make a safe calculation, and we add the 
 goods and coins, which go by land, or unreported, to 
 foreign countries. The value of lots or grounds in our 
 towns, and of our uncultivated forests, though thrown 
 out of tlie estimate, add greatly to the mass of our in- 
 trinsic wealth. 
 
 The surplus cotton of the United States, which is 
 capable of use in winter clothing, is three or four times 
 the weight of the wool employed in foreign countries 
 to make the clothing consumed in United America. 
 Our power to produce cotton may be called unlimited, 
 since the small proportion of 600,000 acres of land, at 
 the very low rate of one hundred pounds of clean cotton 
 to the acre, would produce our whole exported surplus. 
 There are many counties in the southern states contain- 
 ing that quantity of land. But when it is considered 
 that England has seven sheep to every eight and one 
 half or nine acres of land, our progress in the multipli- 
 cation of that animal, and in the growth of machines for 
 the manufacture of wool, cannot be doubted. 
 
 Under all the disadvantages of trade in the year 1811, 
 the revenue of the twelve months, ending on the 30th 
 of September, was 13,541,446 dollars. 
 
 The national expenses were 
 
 In the civil department, .... g 1,360,858 98 
 For the army, fortifications, arms, and 
 
 arsenals, 2,129,000 00 
 
 For the navy department, 2,136,000 00 
 
 For the Indian department, .... 142,726 00 
 
 For the interest of the public debt, . . 2,225,800 00 
 
 Total current expenses, 7,994,384 98 
 
 A temporary debt was repaid, of . . 2,750,000 00 
 And a part of the aggregate of the public 
 
 debt was repaid, amounting to . . 5,058,972 82 
 
 There remained in the treasury nearly four millions of 
 dollars. 
 
 Above forty-six millions of the public debt have been 
 repaid in ten years following the last day of March, 
 180! ; and a debt for Louisiana of 1 1,250,000 dollars was 
 contracted in that term. The whole public debt of the Uni- 
 ted States, on the first day of the year 1 8 1 2, was 45, 1 54, 1 89 
 dollars, being a little more than the sum of 10,000,000/. 
 sterling. The first lien on the public revenues of the 
 United States, is the interest of the public debt. It is the 
 best secured national debt in the world, considering the 
 soundness of our constitution in regard to the obliga- 
 tion of contracts. 
 
 A considerable portion of the public debt of the Uni-
 
 AMEIMCA. 
 
 655 
 
 led Slates, is due to the several atates, which is a strong 
 and peculiar security for the fulfilment of the engage- 
 ments to the public creditors. 
 
 During ten years of peace there has not been either 
 an internal revenue of excise, or a land or direct tax 
 among the revenues of the United States ; and during 
 the last seven of those years there has been no import 
 duty on salt. 
 
 The increase of the post offices and post roads is very 
 rapid, and is astonishing, even to the best informed of 
 the people of the United States; and the beneficial con- 
 sequences under a form of government, and hi a state 
 of human affairs, requiring prompt and accurate intelli- 
 gence, is of incalculable importance to the countiy. 
 The making of new ordinary roads is incessant and ex- 
 tensive. 
 
 There are no powerful and dangerous neighbours to 
 the United States on the continent ol America, either 
 civilized or others, nor any having an interest to invade 
 their dominions. 
 
 Several very important canals are either completed, 
 commenced, authorized, or proposed, in various quar- 
 ters. 
 
 The system of mitigating punishments and rendering 
 them more effectual towards repentance and reforma- 
 tion, operates in a manner highly honourable to the po- 
 licy and humanity of the American legislatures. The 
 vindictive quality is extracted from our penal code, and 
 cast away, as contrary to the dictates of religion, and 
 strongly tending to the deterioration of governments, 
 which indulge that unworthy passion. The good ot 
 the community, and of the criminal himself, and the ho- 
 nour of the Deity, by the amendment of the offender 
 against divine and human laws, are the pure and ele- 
 vated objects of our penal regulations and institutions. 
 The experiment was an early work of the peace ol 1783, 
 and was happily commenced in the state of Pennsylvania. 
 
 If our public councils have happily been slow to an- 
 ger, the military character of the United States, when- 
 ever it has taken the name of action, has not been af- 
 fected unfavourably by our long abstinence from regular 
 war. The signal defeat bf the Indians, in 1794, by a 
 departed hero of the American revolution, the late ma- 
 jor-general Anthony Wayne ; the action with the French 
 frigate Insurgente; the daring enterprize against the 
 fleet and castles of Tripoli ; and the recent defeat of the 
 Indians, by governor Harrison and colonel Boyd, with a 
 mixed corps of militia and regulars, under a variety of 
 inconvenient and disadvantageous circumstances ; are 
 continued proofs of the capacity and resolution of the 
 American people, in the field of action, on the land and 
 on the ocean, whether the foe be civilized or savage. 
 Nor ought the enterprize of Eaton against Derne to be 
 omitted in this place, or at this time, when the wars of 
 Europe seem, more than at any former moment, tending 
 to involve us. 
 
 The detail of facts, which has been faithfully exhibit- 
 ed in this article, will naturally excite, both at home ar.d 
 abroad, a particular consideration of the nature of our 
 country, and of the qualities of a people, distinguislitd 
 by so rich a growth of religious, moral, and intellectual 
 good, and by so large a share of the spontaneous pro- 
 ductions of the land aijd sea, and of the diversified fruits 
 of skilful cultivation-- 
 
 The real character of every independent nation is a 
 subject of interesting consideration. An impartial sur- 
 vey of anyone of those distinct political families, which 
 are destined to flourish and .to decline, to act and to 
 suffer in constant and intimate connection with t-he rest 
 of mankind, in the same defined terraqueous sphere, 
 cannot fail deeply to aff'ect the hearts and understand- 
 ings of their fellow men. To ourselves, it is plain, that 
 a profound and faithful enquiry into all tiic causes, na- 
 tural, moral and accidental, which have tended to pro- 
 duce our true character, will have many of the precious 
 consequences of selt'-examination. — To the rest of man- 
 kind, numerous monitions against evil, or inducements 
 to good, may be afforded by those, who happily conduct 
 such investigations. 
 
 But the present character of the people of the United 
 States of America, as the only* independent civilized 
 nation of this grand division of tlie earth, and as the 
 youngest people of our globe, as well as from other 
 causes, is peculiarly important and interesting. It has 
 been happily observed, with great truth and wisdom by 
 one of the best and most sagacious of our own states- 
 men,! that " it is the glory of the people of America, 
 that, while they have paid a decent regard to the opi- 
 nions of former times and other nations, they have 
 not suffered a blind veneration for antiquity, for cus- 
 tom, or for names, to overrule the suggestions of their 
 own good sense, the knowledge of their own situa- 
 tion, and the lessons of their own experience. To 
 this manly spirit, posterity will be indebted for the 
 possession, and the world for the example of the nu- 
 merous innovations displayed on the American thea- 
 tre, in favour of private rights and public happiness. 
 Had no important step been taken by the leaders of 
 the revolution, for which a precedent could not be 
 discovered, no government established of which an 
 exact model did not present itself, the people of the 
 United States might, at this moment, have been num- 
 bered among the melancholy victims of misguided 
 counsels, or must at best have been labouring under 
 the weight of some of those forms, which have crushed 
 the liberties of the rest of mankind. Happily for Ame- 
 rica, happily we trust for the whole human race, they 
 pursued a new and more noble course. They accom- 
 plished a revolution, which has no parallel in the an- 
 nals of human society : they reared the fabrics of 
 governments wiiich have no model on the face of the 
 globe: they formed the design of a great confedera- 
 cy, which it is incumbent on tlieir successors to im- 
 prove and perpetuate." 
 
 It will be necessary to review, with the utmost deli- 
 beration, and without prejudice, a number and variety 
 of natural and moral causes, which seem to have cu- 
 riously combined to excite and to modify the character- 
 istic distinctions of the people of United America. 
 
 The northern part of the American continent, which 
 they inhabit, is much larger than all Europe — than all 
 the old parts of the civilized world. Tlieir extensive 
 dominions are formed into one connected bodv, combi- 
 ning the glowing region of the cane, with those where 
 the rigour of the north forbids vegetation through near- 
 ly half the year. 
 
 Their great inland waters invited them to an early 
 familiarity with the marine cradles, trained them as in 
 
 * This enqiiirv was written bpfnre tl'e Lite interesting movements in the southern division of this continent, 
 f The president MaiUson, in one of his numbers of " The Federalist>" chap. 14.
 
 656 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 their primary nautical schools, and have regularly drawn 
 many of them on to nu^et all the changes ol the incon- 
 stant ocean, with a perfect familiarity. The skill and 
 facility in navigation, acquired by habit and improved 
 by all the relative arts, have established tiie most inti- 
 mate connection between them, the yonnger children of 
 civil polity,* and all the people of the old world, and 
 of the new found countries. 
 
 Their woods and forests draw many of the United 
 Americans to the bold, the hardy, and the active chase, 
 armed always against beasts of prey ; teaching them at 
 once the use of defensive arms, and to bear privations 
 and fatigues, unknown to the mass of the people of the 
 European states. 
 
 The vigorous exertions of agriculture often extend far 
 beyond the hoe, the plough, and the harrow. The Ame- 
 rican improver is frequently required to rear his own 
 buildings for man and beast. He must conquer the stur- 
 dy forest and the deep morass — laborious though gainful 
 preparations for productive cultivation. In many of the 
 states, the judicious agriculturist is always an improver. 
 The most ancient families, and those of the first intelli- 
 gence, fortune and standing, as well as foreign emigrants 
 of the latest years, are engaged in the settlement and 
 improvement of contiguous or adjacent forests. Where 
 lately every production of nature flourished in wildness, 
 there now the garden, the meadow, and the harvest 
 smile. 
 
 Useful and necessary rural improvements offer to all 
 the Americans a prudent and gainful employment for 
 surplus income, producing, often, an habitual course of 
 moralizing industry and economy. 
 
 Anxious parents, in country life, see before them their 
 
 childi-en's prospects of rising in the world, where infaiit 
 
 settlements, increasing with our honest labour, pervade 
 the land. The existing generations have carved, as it 
 were, numerous counties and several states out of the 
 howling wilderness. Thus are the Americans, under the 
 favour of heaven, the energetic temporal creators of 
 their own cities, towns and villages, their own goodly 
 country and all the copious blessings it contains. 
 
 As the American people have, in truth, carved theii' 
 productive country out of the stupendous forest, whic"h 
 originally covered their domuiions, so have they made, 
 out of the systems of policy, morals, and religion of the 
 world, their own plan of justice and civilization in rela- 
 tion to the Indian aborigines — their own penal code for 
 unhappy criminals — a complete extinction of the com- 
 merce in men — their own constitutions of social freedom 
 and of federative union, and their own blessed establish- 
 ment of religious liberty.! 
 
 ^n enlightened and cordial attachment to religious 
 liberty is one of the actual characteristics of the United 
 Americans. Respect for the rights of conscience is, in 
 no country, so general, so conspicuous, or so well se- 
 cured by civil institutions, and by the religious dis- 
 cipline, practice and tenets of the various churches. 
 We see here the Congregational and the Presbyterian 
 Calvinists worshipping the deity in each other's houses. 
 So of the German Lutheran and German reformed 
 Calvinists. So of the English and Swedish and Ger- 
 man Lutheran congregations. Some religious houses 
 are used by all. Marriages are performed by the minis- 
 ters and magistrates of each of the various churches for 
 the members of others. 
 
 The ministers of these societies have officiated at the 
 
 • It is proper to repeat, th.it South America had not attempted any changes when this enquiry was commenced. 
 
 f Although the ^eat mass of our population consists of the descendents of the natives of those two islands which now constitute 
 the united kingdoms of Gie.it Britain and Ireland, yet tliose tluee different races are blended together and intermixed in a much greater 
 degree than they are either in England, Scotland, or Ireland. And the considerable influx of foreigners from various nations of Europe, 
 who have come into our country as well before as after the period of our revolution, and have principally settled in the states lying be- 
 tween the Hudson and the Potowmac has had its share of influence in the formation of our national character. Their various and some- 
 times discordant customs, usages, religious and political opinions by an indispensable collision with ours have softened the asperities of 
 all, have made us reciprocally cherish a proper spirit of universal toleration and benevolence, and contributed not a little to create in the 
 Tiation a liberal spirit of free and rational enquiry, and to put us on our guard against opinions which had nothing to recommend tliem 
 Imt their antiquity. Thus while we have preserved and continue to cherish, with a jealous eye, those admirable features of our ancient 
 common law, which is the corner-stone of our civil liberties, we have, in the other branches of the jurisprudential science, availed our- 
 selves of llie light afforded by the eminent men of other nations, and particularly by the legislators of imperial Rome. 
 
 To the feudal law of primogeniture, so ill adapted to the situation of our country, we have substituted the equal distribution of the 
 civilians; we have either abolished the system of entails, or by wise regulations, rendered it perfectly harmless; in many of the states, 
 the jus nccrescendi has been taken aw.ay from joint-tenancy except in cases in which the parties have clearly expressed their intention to 
 retain it ; we have greatly simplified the forms of proceeding, as well at common law, as in chancery and in the admiralty, and we have 
 made many other important alterations in our legal polity, which we are not called upon to detail here, but nhich, even now, would 
 afford to a man of investigation and leisure, the subject of an interesting volume. Notwithstanding the gi'eat intermixture of men 
 from different nations which has taken place in our country, it is not a little I'emarkable, that the EngUsh is spoken here with as much 
 purity as in any part of the British dominions, and with a degree of uniformity which is not to be found elsewhere. With very little 
 variation, the idiom even of the lowest classes of society is the same in New Hampshire as in Georgia; no barbarous, uncouth, or unin- 
 teUigible provinci.il jargon or patois offends or distracts the ear of the traveller ; a few local expressions, or a slight difference in the 
 pronunciation or accentuation of a few words is all that may be observed, and th.it only in some of the states ; for there are many where 
 even the backwoods farmers speak the English language with almost classical purity. We have been severely taken to task by the 
 literati of Great Britain, for having introduced a few new words into our common idiom. Such, for instance, as the word lengthy, which 
 seems to have given peculiar offence to the nice ears of our trans-atlantJc brethren. We shall not consider here whether or not this 
 neologism is consistent with the strict analogy of the language, or whether the length of a stick and the length of a poem are things 
 so essentially and entirely similar as to oblige us to reject altogether a word which implies some shade of difference between them, and 
 helps us accurately to discriminate between the one and the other; but we shall only observe, that if America has adopted a few words 
 since the period of her separation from Great Britain, England has adopted a great many more, to which our eyes aVid our ears had not 
 been formerly accustomed. Americans li.ive observed that, since the Frencli revolution, a considerable number of French words and 
 phrases has been introduced into the English idiom on the other side of the Atlantic, which have not received a place in the language 
 spoken on this side. We shall only instance the words sotnbre, sombrous, coinproinit, which, with many others of the like kind, are only 
 to be found in modern English publications. These do not appear to us to be entitled as English words to more merit than the word 
 lengthy. The fact is, that our language is, and will continue to be dividing itself into two divergent idioms, which are destined to be at 
 a future day, as yet, and indeed, very far distant, two different languages, neither of them like the one from which, they will have sprung, 
 but whicli will serve to perpetuate its fame as the modern dialects of Europe have perpetuated that of the languages of Greece and 
 Home. Editors.
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 657 
 
 interment of deceased persons of each other's churches. 
 Families of all religious societies intermarry. The con- 
 stitution of the United States prohibits, in express and 
 peremptory terms, the requiring a religious test, in any 
 case, by the statutes of the national legislature. The con- 
 stitutioins of a very large proportion of the several states 
 contain similar or equivalent securities for the rights of 
 conscience. In one of the states the members of the clergy 
 of every religious society may be considered as dis- 
 IVanchiscd (as all but the bishops are in a degree in 
 England) by an exclusion from every civil office. Funds, 
 which were bestowed by legislatures of past times upon 
 favoured churches, have been returned to the treasuries 
 of certain states for public uses, or for the churches at 
 large, or for the instruction of youth. A bishop or- 
 dained by the Scotch Episcopacy, three by the Pope, 
 and some by those of England are found here ; but they 
 have no American revenues, palaces, or power, except 
 in their proper ministry, in their own religious society. 
 There are no other dignitaries of any church : no tythes : 
 no incorporation beyond a rectory, which includes 
 an independent lay vestry* and excludes the assistant 
 ministers : no convocation : no other than a mere as- 
 sociated convention or synod or yearly meeting, with- 
 out any foundation at law. These bodies are kindly 
 and equally permitted to enjoy an undisturbed exis- 
 tence, by the just and free spirit of our civil institu- 
 tions, under the exclusive government of divine Pro- 
 vidence. Religion in North America is a Theocracy. 
 This is a blessed truth, and is not either an unsubtantial 
 refinement or fanciful suggestion of enthusiasm. There 
 is here no war among the different societies or church- 
 es. None has the sword of the state to raise against 
 a sister church. The peaceful churches are therefore 
 as free, and as strong, as the churches, which admit 
 defensive resistance. In this powerful influence, that 
 of religious liberty, is to be found the precious secret, 
 which amalgamates the minds of the serious native and 
 naturalized citizens. The republic of oppressed churches 
 from Europe, equally protected but unestablished in 
 America, the influence of a very early, but inconsistent 
 law of Maryland, the pious institutions of Roger Wil- 
 liams in Rhode Island, the great wisdom and goodness 
 of William Penn, and the peaceful firniness and per- 
 severance of the religious Society of the Friends have 
 worked for us, under the favour of divine Providence, this 
 precious and transcendent blessing. 
 
 It is unnecessary to dwell longer even upon this most 
 important of all temporal subjects — this subject, which 
 shall deeply concern us all in the world beyond the 
 grave. 
 
 Another characteristic of the United Americans is 
 considered to be an enlightened (iractical humanity. 
 
 The declaration of American independence correctly 
 affirms it to be a self-evident truth, that all men are born 
 with an equal right to fiursue hafi/iiness, laying the 
 broadest foundation for the national humanity. Alex- 
 ander the Great, and a Helot once had ; the greater 
 Napoleon and a slave have now, as we think, equal 
 rights to seek the blessings of this sublunary world — 
 the blessings of eternity. 
 
 In this spirit, the Americans have, in a manner, 
 pledged themselves to admit into their political family 
 such persons as they do admit, without preference to 
 
 the members of any one nation — an enlarged and real 
 humanity. 
 
 As this philanthropy appears to have been ac- 
 ceptable to every stale, since no objection to the con- 
 stitutional provision occurred in any of the conventions, 
 so it cannut be doubted, tliat it is acceptable also to the 
 various natives of other countries naturalized in Ame- 
 rica. 
 
 In the same' humane spirit, the slavery and destruc- 
 tion of Indian prisoners, which occurred in afow instan- 
 ces h» the earlier days of some of the late American 
 provinces, have entirely disappeared. The mild regi- 
 men of William Penn, of his legislative coadjutors, and 
 of liis religious brethren, have been adopted and main- 
 tained under our four successive national administra- 
 tions. Missionaries of several of tiic piicific churcncs 
 are constantly employed, as voluntary auxiliaries to the 
 national government, without reward and without in 
 demnity, in the humane and pious employment ol win 
 ning the Red natives to the sweet peace of the Chris- 
 tian religion. The Indian traffic in arcjLent spirits, as 
 sure provocatives to strife and murder, and in goodi 
 convertible to war and bloodshed, is not pennitted with- 
 out many wholesome restraints and precautions. Sales 
 of their lands in moments of Indian intoxication and 
 delusion, are carefully prevented, for though accom- 
 plished with every other circumstance of regularity, no 
 sale by an Indian or a tribe is valid in law, unless ett'ect- 
 ed by means of an authorized and responsible agent 
 of the United States. All sales of tcrritoi-)' by the Red 
 natives, even to the general government itself, must be 
 of their own free will, and must of couise be satisfac- 
 tory to them in the terms of sale. By these and other 
 fair and tender means, territory is acquired with the 
 necessary good-humour, and wars with the natives have 
 been unknown for the last fourteen years.* 
 
 The same characteristic humanity occasioned several 
 of our late provincial legislatures to obstruct and bur- 
 den the importation of slaves. An insupportable duty 
 on that trade was imposed in Pennsylvania more than 
 forty years ago ; but, as in the case of the law to per- 
 fect religious liberty, so in the case of the duty on slaves, 
 the negative of the crown in Great Britain was unhap- 
 pily exercised. The extinction of that royal power, by 
 the declaration of independence, was followed by the 
 memorable act of the state of Virginia ; first abolishing, 
 on the great principles of humanity, the future importa- 
 tion of slaves. Various acts of the otlicr legislatures 
 and of the conventions, have since followed, til! at length, 
 on the first day of January, 1808, the introduction of en- 
 slaved men into the country was terminated in the re- 
 maining states by a national law. 
 
 The spirit of the American people on this subject 
 was not satisfied by a mere attempt to discontinue the 
 import trade. The very delicate and serious work of 
 the gradual abolition of all slavery in the United States 
 was commenced in Pennsylvania by their legislature, in 
 the year 1779. In the middle states the absence of all 
 danger left those, who had first in America endeavoured 
 to obstruct the trade by duties, at liberty to adopt this 
 measure. Considering the times, however, and the 
 contiguity of Pennsylvania to three of the southern 
 states, it is probable that the friends of abolition there 
 have gone the whole length which prudence allowed. 
 
 * This was written before the late momentary war of the profane Indian pretenderj calling himself rv'e Prophet. 
 Vol. I. Part II. 4 O
 
 658 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 If it be said, that they ever went too far, it proceeded 
 from personal and religious tenderness towards a very 
 large and very unhappy description of Iniman be- 
 ings, according with the characteristic we liere sug- 
 gest. 
 
 The enlightened humanity of tliose, who wished to 
 arrest importation, impelled them to exertions for the 
 instruction of the blacks in scholastic knowledge, and in 
 the useful arts and trades. la this meritorious and ne- 
 cessary service, and in the more important duly of reli- 
 gious instruction, much lime, abilities, and money are 
 constantly expended. It is considered that an emanci- 
 pated person of twenly-one is possessed of a man's 
 body, informed often by the knowledge only of a child. 
 This would be to produce strengtii unattended by rea- 
 son, dangei'ous even in a few individuals, but highly 
 formidable in multitudes of persons. 
 
 JVatwal affection," or //le mutual love of jiarent and 
 child, is an amiable and precious form of humanity. It 
 is a favourite theme, and of the highest estimation, in 
 the judgment of the moral philosopher. It is an inva- 
 luable link in the chain of domestic and civil society. 
 It is peremptorily enjoined by religion. In our munici- 
 pal regulations, adopted from abroad or devised at home, 
 the people of the late North American provinces in- 
 creased the influence of 7iatural affection beyond the 
 rules of the " common lata" of the empire. In England, 
 before our revolution, (and it is at this time,) the 
 eldest son engrossed all the real property. Sisters older 
 than he, and brothers and sisters younger, were un- 
 naturally deprived of every building, and of every por- 
 tion of the father's land, of every perpetual ground rent, 
 and where (as on the greater part of our slave estates) 
 they were considered as real property, the sisters and 
 younger brothers were deprived of all the slaves. Thus 
 families bred with equal indulgence, and even the ten- 
 der sex, were sacrificed to the pride and inhumanity of 
 primogeniture, as it is most improperly called. For a first 
 born daughter actually has not this fancied right against 
 a son, who is younger. Connecticut, and Pennsylvania 
 in the greater part, did away the English common la-v 
 in the time of the provinces. So probably did some 
 others. Last wills were found eveiy where to divide 
 the lands. Since the American revolution, the law of 
 descents has been altered in favour of natural afi'cction, 
 and of the tender love of female children in all the stales. 
 The manifest inhumanity of our old English law, in this 
 respect, is now every where rejected in the United 
 States. The descent of the estates of persons dying 
 without a will, to distant relations, when the aged father 
 or mother remains alive and there are no children, or 
 widow of the deceased, has been considered as a very 
 tinsound and painful rule of the common law. By that 
 law, real estates do not ascend. Some of tlic state legis- 
 latures have corrected this exceptionable rule of the 
 English law, giving it, under various circumstances, 
 wholly or in part, to the father and mother. The pro- 
 visions respecting distribution, dower and descent to 
 women, are rendered, in some other respects, more 
 favourable and humane. Moral science itself appears to 
 have been defective on the subject of the relation of 
 husband and wife. Much more so, it is conceived, have 
 been the common and the statute law. In these states. 
 
 we ha 'e gone so far, In the case of a son dying intestate 
 without cerlam relations, as to give the whole income of 
 the real estate to the mother. The situation of the wi- 
 dow has also been ameliorated in this country. Consi- 
 dering the female sex, as they truly arc, unprotected by 
 any share in the government, we may claim from these 
 new and voluntary attentions to their helpless condition, 
 some credit tor a rijined humanity. 
 
 The American feeling is opposed, on the score of prac- 
 tical humanity, to the custom ui iynprcssment. It is often 
 used to force landsmen away from tiieir connectioris to 
 encounter a new element. Passengers in their way to 
 their property or families, are exposed to this distressing 
 operation. The young seaman, who has tried the stormy 
 ocean to obtain bread for a widowed mother and orphan 
 family, is cruelly torn from them at the moment of his 
 return; and the married sailor, on whom alone an anxi- 
 ous wife and rising family depend for education and sub- 
 sistence, is only allowed, after a long voyage, to view, at 
 a distance, their mournful abode. The humanity of the 
 people of these states will never allow a native press- 
 gang to erase from the declaration of American indepen- 
 dence the solemn assurance, that the honest sailor hae 
 thf name right, as every other citizen, to /lursue his otvn 
 hajifiincss. 
 
 The value and strength of this characteristic trait 
 will occasion the adduction of more evidence of the en- 
 lightened Jiractical humanity of the people of this coun- 
 try. 
 
 We shall acquire not a little proof, to the point under 
 examination, in considering our penal codes. In the 
 solemn and reiterated provisions against ecclesiastical 
 tests, and other infractions of religious liberty, and in 
 favour of the rights of conscience, we behold the humane 
 and jMwerful arm of a free, a feeling, and a reflectuig 
 people, tearing from their penal code the bloody cata- 
 logue of agonizing punishments, with which impious 
 men, in too many other countries, have, for a season, 
 subverted religion, and afflicted humaiiiiy. Fines, im- 
 prisonments, privations, exile and torture, (in religious 
 affairs,) are held by us to make uncharitable barbarians 
 of every branch of the governments that inflict them, 
 and of all the people, who can bear to witness their daily 
 use. 
 
 The defence of the state has led to awful severities 
 in other countries, in the punishment of treason. The 
 rack, the wheel, fire and liiggot, decapitation, embow- 
 elling, cutting out the tongue, and tearing out the heart 
 of the criminal, entailing lorfeiture upon tbe unoff'end- 
 ing family, and even the malignant corruption of their 
 blood, are some of the punishments which barbarous 
 man has inflicted for this crime, upon his kind ; often 
 too upon his own kindred. In these states, humanity has 
 advanced so far as to leave it in the power of the na- 
 tional legislature to reject the punishment of even the 
 least painful death for the most aggravated treason. It 
 has forbidden to that legislature the ordaining corrup- 
 tion of blood, and does not allow it to direct any forfei- 
 ture to the injury of the widow or children.! The of- 
 fender alone may be punished by the deprivation of all 
 estate during his natural life ; but it is left in the dis- 
 cretion of congress to determine the Tneasure. 
 
 In several of the states, the ancient punishments of 
 
 • The Srojyi! of llie mor.il writers. 
 
 •J- It M'.as hijclily lionour.able to American humanity, tliat the right o!' dower was not destroyed in some parts of our couritn- by the Trea- 
 son Laws, in the revolutionary war.
 
 AMEKICA. 
 
 659 
 
 of the stocks, the pillory, cutting off the eai's, whip- 
 ping and death are abolished, except for murder of the 
 first degree, and one or two other crimes, for which an 
 execution by hanging may be awarded. It is firmly be- 
 lieved in this country, that the destruction of feeling, 
 produced by public exposure at the stocks, the pillory, 
 and the post, occasions a desperation in the criminals, 
 as to regaining character, and is therefore an unwise 
 and inhuman addition to the minor punishments. To- 
 wards the culprit's family it operates as a corruption of 
 fame, from which every principle of justice and philan- 
 thropy clearly exempts them. To the wound to the 
 family character, which a wicked parent or husband has 
 inflicted, the people of tiiis country will no longer make 
 a wanton and dreadful addition. Serious doubts, both 
 religious and humane, have been raised against tiie 
 punishment of death. The Americans are making a 
 pious experiment of administering justice in greater 
 mercy. No fatal evil can attend the trial of their new 
 plan. No doubts have yet arisen from considerable ex- . 
 perience. If unhappily it should be found, that the 
 ptuiishment of death cannot ultimately be excluded from 
 our code, the people of this country will untcignedly 
 deplore the dreadful necessity. It is firmly believed, 
 and it is humbly trusted, that the humane citizens of 
 this country will never cease to weep over the victims 
 of the sword of inevitable war, and of impartial jus- 
 fee.* 
 
 An inestimable mitigation of the penal codes of all 
 , other nations has been adopted in the United States, by 
 means of those provisions of the federal constitution, 
 Avhich expressly forbid all our legislatures, as well of 
 the union as of the several states, to pass any bill of 
 attainder, or any law ex Jiost facto. Laws made after 
 the commission of a fact, for the purpose of punishing 
 the commission of it, are against all notions of personal 
 safety, all the rules of justice, all ideas of himianity. 
 They have been a dreadful engine in the hands of many 
 governments. They fraudulently reach the infliction of 
 the severe punishment of exile, by expulsion, to which 
 the humane policy of the United Americans is decidedly 
 opposed. Some of the most virtuous and eminent cha- 
 racters in the world have been subjected to banishment, 
 or to agonizing, infamous, and fatal punishments, by 
 these retrospective laws ; and that too, for parts of their 
 conduct which innocence permitted, which patriotism 
 and philanthropy enjoined, and which no authority had 
 previously forbid. The poorest citizen, nay, the uncon- 
 nected alien, walking with decent confidence and order, 
 imder the beloved and venerable protection of known 
 laws, cannot here be hurried from his wretched family, 
 to a death of anguish and of infamy, by the inhuman 
 contrivance of a retrospective statute. 
 ■ It would be delightful to pursue the fruitful enquiry 
 concerning this godlike characteristic of our beloved 
 country. But this part of the subject will be closed 
 after considering the topic of the fioiver to declare war. 
 
 The American people remembered that this power 
 was every where else committed to the ecclesiastical 
 or civil princes or aristocracies. The actual and imme- 
 diate representatives of the people themselves, who are 
 to endure the expenses, the fatigues, the wounds and 
 the mortalities of war, had no share in the solemn de- 
 claration — no power to forbid such a declaration, though 
 manifestly founded on light, transitory or unjust causes. 
 
 The passions of princes constantly involve tmwilling na- 
 tions in bloody quarrels; and the suffering people on 
 both sides could only mourn for the madness of the 
 crowns and the wanton eflusion of Iniman blood. It was 
 surely honourable to this young and christian nation to 
 remember the injunctions of our religion, and to devise 
 new precautions to preserve peace. They have there- 
 fore given to those, who directly represent the nation 
 at large, and to those who represent the people (indi- 
 rectly) of the seventeen subdivisions, in the several 
 states, the whole power of the public sword. The de- 
 puties in senate, of nine of the states, can jireserve us 
 from a foolish, passionate or malignant declaration of 
 war, though the co-oi'dinatc deputies of eight of the 
 slates, the whole of the iiTimediate rapresentative body, 
 and the executive magistrate or president, with all his 
 auxiliary oflicers, were ready to ordain and to make war. 
 Thus have we sacrificed, on the altar of humanity, at 
 home and abroad, the worst passions of our nature. 
 Thus have we avoided these war expenses, which lead 
 governments cruelly to grind the faces of their own 
 poor, and to occasion equal n)iseries to the innocent 
 poor among their enemies. Thus have we prevented 
 the rich means of benevolent systems of education, em- 
 ployment and charity irom being perverted to extinguish 
 peace and good-will among nien. Thus have we re- 
 sisted the barbarous prejudices, which have taught 
 many great and neighbouring communities to forget all 
 the charities of life and situation towards each other, 
 and in hollow peace as well as in real and infuriated 
 war, to consider themselves as '■'■ 7uitural enemies.'" 
 
 Feeble and inefficient as our government is repre- 
 sented to be, we have extended protection and justice, 
 formerly unknown, to the remote aborigines. — Eager as 
 we are said to be for the profits of trade, we have abo- 
 lished the commerce in the natives of Africa. — V^itiated 
 by the infusion of foreign criminals, as we are pretend- 
 ed to be, we alone have taught Europe what it is to 
 exempt our felloiv men from the imequalled misery of 
 an invaded conscience. — Ignorant and unwise, as foreign 
 rivalship would describe us, we have collected the wis- 
 dom of every code of laws, divine and human, and of 
 every suggestion of oiu' minds to ameliorate the condi- 
 tion of our younger sons, our beloved daughters, and 
 the tender wives of our bosoms — and have cast indig- 
 nantly from us, the whole unjust and barbarous tyranny 
 of retrospective legislation. We have arrested the de- 
 grading and bloody progress of the penal code, and car- 
 ried the tender mercies of our perfect religion into the 
 miserable prisons of convicted guilt, teaching the hope- 
 less criminal, that mercy had softened the wonted rigour 
 of justice, and afforded to him the unexpected opportu- 
 nity of an availing repentance. — By the new forms of our 
 solemn and binding constitutions, by the care of the 
 blood of our own citizens, by the sparing of the means 
 of their daily bread, of their youthful instructions, and of 
 their family establishments ; by a v.'ise forbearance to- 
 wards our fellow men of other nations; and bv so true 
 an obedience to the injunctions of our mild religion, do 
 we claim, of an impartial and observing world, the ines- 
 timable character of practical humanity. 
 
 As ifhas been represented, that the citizens of United 
 America are attached to the true principles of humanity, 
 so it is now intended to be maintained, that they are 
 sincere friends of fwUtical moralitij. 
 
 * The legislature of Pennsylvania, h.is at this time, 1812, under consideration a law to abolish tlic punishment of death. 
 
 40 2
 
 660 
 
 AMERICxl. 
 
 The lav of nations is clearly recognised by the North 
 Americans, in their invaluable constitution ot public wel- 
 fare, union and justice, as a code ol existing rules among 
 civil societies, enjoining on each what is right, and for- 
 bidding to all what is wrong. They consider the law of 
 nations as the public law uj morals. Whatever has been, 
 whatever is, and whatever may be, the treatment of this 
 general law by the sovereigns, or the courts of other 
 countries, it is well known that the judiciary department 
 of the United States is bound to adjudicate by those 
 rules of political morality, which are to be collected from 
 the great system of this prescriptive or common law of 
 independent states. Aggrieved and injured in our per- 
 sons and property by violations of this law exceeding all 
 example, we have jever consented to raise our voice for 
 its future abrogation. We have not countenanced any 
 derogation from its true force. As soon could we think 
 of repealing the rules of honour, of private morality or of 
 religion itself They compostc in truth altogether one 
 great, and good and binding law, with a precious variety 
 of high sanctions. They are indeed but dift'erent names 
 for the same inestimable thing. For there can be no ho- 
 nour, or private moral?, or public morality, which is not 
 founded on the system of religion. We have not com- 
 mitted to our executive power the authority to dispense 
 with the law of nations, nor have we accorded to the 
 judges permission to reject its venerated rules. We have 
 voluntarily extended its benefits even to those Indians, 
 who were not, at the time, within any of our municipal 
 jurisdictions, though subject to the power of our arms. 
 We have applied it between our contending states, be- 
 tween every state and the Union, between a state and an 
 individual, and between the body politic of our whole 
 confederacy and every private person, whether foreign 
 or native. It lias been to tnis country, in and out of our 
 courts, a fixed rule of conduct and of judgment. It has 
 been our constant endeavour to maintain its salutary 
 oblii^ations among our friends, our rivals, and our open 
 enemies. 
 
 It is peculiar to the constitutions of the United Ame- 
 ricans, that they have recognised the law of nations as a 
 part of the law of the land, while other countries have 
 permitted it to suffer the most serious derogations from 
 the hands of the municipal executive power. National 
 expediency, susceptible as it is of every degree of inge- 
 nious pretence and perversion, has not been allowed, in 
 the United States, to take the place of those accepted 
 rules of /jolitical morality, which are calculated to pre- 
 serve peace on earth and good-will among nations. Piin- 
 cesand rulers, as well as private men, are subject to the 
 motions of conscience, and to the judgment of the Al- 
 mighty beyond the grave. If the highest temporal ad- 
 vantages are to be gained to a nation by the intentional 
 destruction of those laws, which forbid the wanton sacri- 
 fice of the property and people ol neighbouring states 
 for every light and transitory cause, for every bubble of 
 imaginary honour, let the Americans continue to fore- 
 go the temptation. It cannot be laid to our charge that 
 by contributing to annihilate the law of public morals, 
 we have run into each other the extremes of the civili- 
 zed and savage state, and made a Tophet of the terra- 
 queous globe. We do not undertake to arraign the go- 
 vernments of other countries, for such is not at all the 
 object or design of this enquiry. It is only our desire to 
 convince the uninformed, that the mixture of ingredi- 
 ents in our national composition, has not rendered the 
 w^iole mass of a ricgative character, or produced any 
 
 other deplorable effect, derogatory from the dignity of 
 human nature, or contrary to the great plan of Divine 
 Providence, who manifests in the free-will operations of 
 his hinumerable and variegated creatures, the stupen- 
 dous power of their sole creator. 
 
 If success has attended the endeavour to prove that 
 the United Americans are the friends of religious liber- 
 ty, of humanity, and political morality ; it may be rea- 
 sonably expected that they have a considerable nfiare 
 ofrcligioun character ; for these are a part of its genuine 
 elements. 
 
 It is necessary to remember in relation to individuals 
 and communities, that Itrofeation, abroad or at home, is 
 not the whole of true religion ; and that however aDivine 
 Judge may reijuire the reality in each of his responsible 
 creatures, the character of nations, on this subject, is 
 really comparative. Barbarian plunderers, rejecting 
 every good rule among men, must be deemed inferior 
 to the several civilized nations. It will not be argued 
 that we are as pious, as just, or as perfect as we ought 
 to be. Nor shall we, in an unworthy spirit of self-righ- 
 teousness, attempt to exalt ourselves above any particu- 
 lar nation, much less do we claim, on this delicate and all- 
 important subject, merits superior to all others. 
 
 From the mutual charity of our religious societies, by 
 which no one deprives the others of their rights in tem- 
 poral or spiritual affairs ; from the equity of our distri- 
 butions of the good things of this world, among all the 
 children of our families, without distinction of ages or 
 sex ; from the increased provision for the tender Ob- 
 jects of conjugal affection, and for the venerable parents 
 of our human lives ; from the principles of substantial 
 equality on which our constitutions provide for the dis- 
 tribution oi right to ourselves and to Aliens, to our coun- 
 try and to foreign nations, we hope and trust, that, as a 
 people, we have shown no uncommon deficiency of re- 
 spect for the first member of the Divine command — 
 " Do justice." Torn and agitated by an eight years' war; 
 left in a distracted condition by six years' absence of 
 federative ligaments; the unjust passions threatening to 
 overwhelm us, or to render us an easy prey to some 
 foreign destroyer, we rose, in the strength of the wis- 
 dom and virtue, which heaven had infused into our 
 characters ; we rose as the friends of man to the great 
 luork of reforming the empire. In all our endeavours 
 on that memorable occasion, to bring the vessel of 
 the state into the port of safety, eternal ju.itice was our 
 polar star. Such do our constitutions prove to be 
 the piety of cur politics — the true religion of our ciifil 
 institutions. Prudence, Temperance, and Justice, adorfi 
 the face of those beloved codes, and are skilfully trans- 
 fused through their body and substance. Mercy too, 
 as we have already shown, shines in the midst of 
 them, with the mild radiance of the morning star ; and 
 vi'here justice and mercy are, there surely is our holy 
 religion. 
 
 It is thus, as a nation, considering and ordaining, un- 
 der the favour of Divine Providence, for ourselves and 
 our posterity, that we have provided a wholesome suc- 
 cedaneum — a glorious substitution for an established 
 church. 
 
 The pomp, the luxury, and the extreme voluptuous- 
 ness of the church, before the coming of Jesus Christ, 
 required his reforaiing power, and influence, and labours. 
 The vain pomp and luxury and voluptuousness, with the 
 anti-christian assumption of power, of the church in the 
 Sixteenth century, again demanded the effort of re-
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 661 
 
 formation. The coi^test was fluctuating; and those liu- 
 Bian reformers often turned their impassioned arms 
 against each other. The victims, on both sides, in many 
 countries, were caused to shed tears of blood, and were 
 impiously devoted in this world to the llaniing torments 
 of the damned.* The world will consider, that such is 
 not the religion of the united Americans. On the con- 
 trary, when they perceive, even in this day of general 
 light, that some countries, nay some churches, in Eu- 
 rope, still torture the body, some the conscience of 
 man, they exclaim in deep astonishment and sorrow, 
 " Merciful God that the teachers of thy religion should 
 ever watit humanilyl" 
 
 The happy simplicity of the churches in America oc- 
 casions the ministers of religion not to be led iiHo those 
 fatal temptations, which have produced the necessity for 
 the groat reformations in various ages. It is a reflec- 
 tion favourable to man, that in proportion as vice is not 
 to be observed in persons in conspicuous and influential 
 situations, the body of the community is more virtuous. 
 So far therefore as religion is attained by abstaining 
 from many evils, the united Americans exhibit the cha- 
 racter. — Nor will this circumstance be found, on consid- 
 eration, of little importance, or of a negative quality ; for 
 the presence of habitual vice excludes the possibility of 
 the presence of genuine religion. Considering then the 
 ministers of religion and the religious societies to be of 
 moral habits, the circumstance is of great importance, 
 connected with the other evidences of a religious cha- 
 racter. Morality too may be said to keep open the door 
 for the entrance of religion, while immorality prevents 
 its admission. 
 
 An attention to the scholastic and religious instruc- 
 tion of the rising generation is among the indispensable 
 duties of a pious nation. The monies expended in print- 
 ing and purchasing books necessary to such instruction, 
 have greatly increased, are at this time very considerable, 
 and seem every year to become more extensive. Simi- 
 lar observations may be correctly made on the importa- 
 tion of books for the same purpose. Every male youth 
 is taught some occupation, trade, calling, or profession ; 
 for it is held that independence is highly favourable, if 
 not absolutely necessary to virtue. So deep are the im- 
 pressions made by this reflection, that it has given rise 
 to the desire of bestowing some such education in a trade, 
 occupation, calling, or profession, on all the young fe- 
 males. To them, it is plain, that reputable means of 
 subsistence are still more necessary to the preservation 
 of their many and their precious virtues. Steady ef- 
 forts to effect such ameliorations, resulting in ultimate 
 success, will be accepted at every human tribunal, as 
 evidences of a religious character. Heaven itself, as we 
 humbly trust, will survey with favour and approbation 
 the generous heart, guided by the intelligent and vigo- 
 rous mind, in its virtuous endeavours to secure the per- 
 manent good of the rising generation. 
 
 The sincerity and genuine goodness of the religion of 
 the Americans, is proved by the enumerated evidences 
 of their humanity ; by the erection of churches, more 
 than in any other country by means of voluntary contri- 
 butions; by the founding of hospitals, and other charita- 
 ble institutions, before they have established galleries of 
 
 the fine arts ; by the indulgence, which they extend to 
 every emigration from foreign countries of persons, who 
 have endeavoured to exempt religion from disgrace and 
 injury in the character of sober reformers, while the 
 churches attempted to be refunncd are kindly indulged 
 with an equal tenderness. There are some things in all 
 these churches, which belong to the true religion. In 
 these things they all unite and accord. By these things 
 they secure to themselves the merit, and to our country 
 a considerable share of reputation for true religion. In 
 lieu of persecution, good-will arises among men ; and, 
 in lieu of the sword of human power, the peace of Hea- 
 ven in the church upon earth. 
 
 This part of our enquiry is delicate in the extreme ; 
 for we ought ever to look with the most guarded eye, 
 towards the dangers of hypocrisy, of self-righteousness, 
 and of spiritual pride. It is therefore from the fruits of 
 the tree, exhibited in their religious, civil, benevolent 
 and didactic institutions, that it has been thought best to 
 deduce the character of the United Americans upon the 
 subject of true neighbourhood to man, and humble reve- 
 rential love to the Supreme Being. 
 
 The inhabitants of this country have declined ostenta- 
 tion in all matters of the church, and of the state. They 
 have, perhaps more than any other people, spiritualized 
 religion. The instrumental parts in the divine worship 
 among them, are few and simple. Their estimation 
 does not increase. It is not believed, that sacrifices 
 and offerings of material objects can be of any value, in 
 the sight of the all-perfect spiritual creator and pre- 
 server of the universe. The conceptions of the Ameri- 
 cans, concerning the attributes of the divine nature, are 
 of course imperfect from the limited powers of the hu- 
 man mind. But it is not believed easy to find any nation, 
 whose ideas, on this profound and sublime subject, are 
 further removed froni the grossness of idolatry, and the 
 weakness of superstition. The coercive dogmas of civil 
 governments, differing often as much from religious 
 truth, as from one another, ai-e not necessarily to be sup- 
 posed to comprehend the standard of the divine attri- 
 butes. The original design may seem no inconsider- 
 able presumption, in fallible and short-sighted man. To 
 continue their operation in this happy country, where 
 the freedom and elasticity of the human mind, conse- 
 quent on the various reformations in ecclesiastical af- 
 fairs, is remarkably conspicuous, would be to partake 
 deeply in the error. — Instead therefore of the heathen 
 mythology, which wrapt the Roman people, as in a 
 dark cloud even in the Augustan age ; instead of the 
 religious dreams, which filled Europe, in the fifteenth 
 century ; and instead of the attributes ascribed to hea- 
 ven, by discordant governments and councils, it is be- 
 lieved to belong to the power of God in the soul of man, 
 to instruct him in the nature of the Being, we were 
 created to serve. 
 
 A high indefiendent firrsonal sfiirit and resolution are 
 conceived to be characteristics of the United Americans. 
 
 Natural causes for this trait of character are found 
 in our vicinity to the dangers of the ocean, in the origi- 
 nal wildness of our country, in the magnitude and num- 
 bers of our bays and our rivers, in the tonic character! of 
 our climate, and in our bright sunshine, which favours the 
 
 * The peculiar punishment of burning to death by a slow fire was preferred by both sides, because it was alleged to resemble Hell- 
 fire-. 
 
 f The Sweet Orange tree, whicji flourishes in the latitude of 40 degrees north in Eurone, dies for want of steady warmth in 53 degrees 
 N. in the United States.
 
 G62 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 crcctncss of the mind. The effect of the climate and 
 other natural causes, is, perhaps, proved by the wonder- 
 ful size oi tlic native Mammotit, and the warlike temper 
 of the red JiuUt^mes. 
 
 But the moral causes of our national character arc 
 more numerous and inlluential. The ca\'ly American 
 settlers were like a nation of Crusoes, who, having left 
 their native homes in search of religious and civil free- 
 dom, and of advancement in life, were cast by Divine 
 Providence on a houseless country, and had every thing 
 to do for their own defence, comfort, and prosperity. 
 Energy is life : The want of it is pining death, in such 
 a situation. The first settlers and several classes of 
 successive emigrants from Europe were highly excited 
 in mind, and toned in fibre by the incessant duties of this 
 real condition of their lives and bodies. When success- 
 ful exertion has raised the spirits, and invigorated the 
 frame of man, courage and firmness are increased. 
 When reflection, ingenuity, perseverance, and other 
 operations of the mind have occasioned, accompanied, 
 directed, and approved our bodily exertions, a higher 
 spirit is pro<luced. The children of the earlier settlers 
 were born and educated under such parents, and in like 
 circumstances. The long series of emigrants from 
 Europe came by degrees among such a people. The 
 contiguous and adjacent forests presented to both, du- 
 ties similar, though less formidable and rigorous ; but 
 enough perhaps to produce the potent body and the de- 
 termined spirit. 
 
 The attractive, hardy, and laborious pleasures and 
 business of the chase, dear and important enough in a 
 political view to find a place in the enumeration of our 
 rights in many of the American constitutions, confirmed 
 this characteristic of our provincial people ; and the 
 frequent incursions of our red neighbours, with the sur- 
 rounding provinces of rivals and enemies, till the treaty 
 of Paris in 1763, had a strong and similar effect. 
 
 The original opposition to Great Britain excited a 
 solemn attention to arms and military topics, through- 
 out United America. That great event, and the final 
 separation from our late empire, produced that peculiar, 
 general, and organized armament of the people of this 
 country, which is called the militia: a real constitutional 
 arming en mnsxc: a mighty two-edged sword to resist 
 invasion from abroad and oppression at home : to op- 
 pose domestic violence and maintain internal peace, or- 
 der, and government. The course of the revolutionary 
 war gave many occasions for the actual service of this 
 numerous body : of this body, which is every where pre- 
 sent. On the banks of the Savannah, in the glorious 
 field of Saratoga, at hundreds of intermediary places, 
 the American militia were called upon to endure the 
 sufferings, or to perform tiie successful duties of a regu- 
 lar army. In no other country has the body of the peo- 
 ple received the lessons of an eight years' internal war. 
 
 Independently to own and to use their arms, is ano- 
 ther of the rights of all Americans, which they have 
 caused to be solemnly engraven on the imnuitable ta- 
 blets of their public liberties. The universal solicitude, 
 prudence, and vigilance on the subject of this right, is 
 an evidence of the erect spirit of the nation; and in no 
 other particular does the temper of the adopted accord 
 more perfectly with that of tlie most determined native 
 citizens. The true value of defensive arms can be 
 
 known perfectly only by a people thus entitled and accus- 
 tomed to possess and to employ them. 
 
 The activity, vigour, and success of the private arm- 
 ed ships of the United States, in the war of the revolu- 
 tion, and indeed in all the wars in the times of the pro- 
 vinces, arc indisputable and notorious ; and whatever may 
 be the powers at sea of any other nation, the courage, 
 enterprise, and effect of the American navy, according 
 to its force, have ever been undisputed, conspicuous, 
 and honourable. 
 
 To the revolutionary army of the United States be- 
 longs the solid military reputation of supporting an 
 eight years' struggle of a nation of less than two millions 
 of whites, against one of six or seven times their num- 
 ber. To them belongs the palm of complete ultimate 
 success, won too in scenes of privation and of suffering, 
 to which their enemies were perfect strangers. To 
 them the contest was complicated: the trials severe. 
 Through the night, the struggle was often to bear up 
 against those extreme privations, which abate the bo- 
 dily energies even of the brave. Through the follow- 
 ing day, the bloody conflict was successfully maintained 
 against a well provided and veteran enemy, under the 
 animating influences of health and plenty. 
 
 The Indian wars of the United States, which have oc- 
 curred since the close of the revolution, will furnish 
 evidence of the spirit and resolution of the United 
 Americans. Whatever were the issues of the first ac- 
 tions, the courage and fortitude of the whole of tlie lit- 
 tle armies were fully manifested. It would be easy to 
 prove that those sufferings arose from causes foreign 
 from the valourofthe Americans. But Braddock failed 
 with an European force as well as these. In a late con- 
 flict of the American army with our red neighbours, the 
 bravery of the troops, and the various' merits of the gal- 
 lant Wayne, acquired a victory for the United States, to 
 which our Indian history records no equal. The daring 
 onset, and the hot pursuit, broke down the yielding foe, 
 and forced the deluded savages to give the blessed olive 
 to our country's vows.* 
 
 The conduct of the United States towards the Barbary 
 powers has partaken more of the coercive character, in 
 proportion to our strength and to our navy, than tlie 
 treatment of those powers by any other nation. Our 
 prisoners there, have endured their trials with unex- 
 ceeded fortitude ; and the conflict in the harbour of Tri- 
 poli has convinced this nation and all mankind, that it is 
 practicable for each of the great maritime states to de- 
 stroy the force and activity of their predatory fleets and 
 the fortifications, which protect their naval stations. In 
 our struggles with them, the determined dauntless spirit 
 of the officers and seamen of the navy of the United 
 States has shed a splendid honour on their own charac- 
 ters and on their country's name. 
 
 True magnanimity is at the head of the same family, 
 as an elevated and firm spirit. The deportment of the 
 United States, therefore, towards their native savages 
 and the states of Barbary merit consideration, in an 
 inquiry into their character for determined courage. 
 Debellare superbos seems to have been their object, 
 from a mere sense of the duty of defence. But having 
 overcome the arrogant hostility of the savages in -our 
 own country and of the barbarians of Tripoli, parcere 
 subjectis appears to be the noble disposition of their pub- 
 
 * The action under gnvernnr Harrison and colonel Boyd has occurred since tliis inquiry was written ; and confirms the character o4 
 the army of tlie United States, and of the mililia, in respect to a high personal spirit and resolution.
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 COS 
 
 lie councils and of the people of America at large. We 
 hear no murmurings of the nation, that their government 
 have not souglu revenge or still fought for " Ihc bubble 
 rejiutatioii" on the shores of our lakes, or on the coasts 
 of Barbary. Whatever were our injuries from savage 
 and barbarian violence in the days of their delusion and 
 insolence, as soon as we had eniorced upon iheni a cor- 
 rect deportment and taught them the fatal errors of 
 their conduct, we have allowed them to leiirn that a 
 righteous enemy, though brave to their own knowledge, 
 can suffer and forgive. Of what avail are the lessons 
 ol the best of religions, if after attaining the just ends of 
 a reluctant war, we are not willing to accept peace ? 
 
 The course of events since the American revolution, 
 and particularly since the commencement of that of 
 France, may have been occasionally thought to require 
 war on our part, as a high-spirited and injured people. 
 
 As to the period included between the treaty of peace 
 in 1783, and the adoption of the present constitution in 
 1789, it may be correctly observed, that our all-impor- 
 tant revolution was not then completed. Far was it from 
 being sufficiently matured and confirmed. When the 
 states had revised, and regulated their own separate 
 constitutions ; when some that were too extensive had 
 effected, in peace, convenient and salutary divisions of 
 their territory and jurisdiction; when the critical, com- 
 plicated and litigated case in the north had been con- 
 clusively settled by the voluntary entry of Vermont, 
 as a distinct member, into the present union; when 
 the late crown lands of the western territory \\ere 
 ceded, and the western posts were surrendered to con- 
 gress ; when the great territorial litigations among the 
 states were conceded, adjudged or compounded; when 
 the new federal constitution of perpetual union had 
 been framed, adopted and amended ; then indeed did 
 it appear to the sober-minded and intelligent citizens, 
 that the revolution of the United States was consum- 
 mated, matured and confirmed. Till the actual comple- 
 tion of all these things, numerous indeed were the con- 
 siderations, which might persuade any nation, in our 
 predicament, however brave and full of resources, to re- 
 frain from war. With the evidences of spirit, which have 
 been suggested, it will not appear a want of gallantry in 
 our citizens, or ol firm resolution in our councils, to have 
 retained us in peace, during the ten years, which fol- 
 lowed the last general treaty of Paris, in 1783. 
 
 At the commencement of the French revolution, some 
 of the considerations, which have been just stated, con- 
 tinued to retiuire our anxious attention. The stupen- 
 dous workings of that great event, transcendently influ- 
 ential from day to day, and awfully portentous, as to ob- 
 vious consequences, imposed upon the Americans cor- 
 responding obligations. Every feeling of their own 
 bosoms, of their neighbours, of their rivals, of their 
 enemies, and of the powerful, jealous and resentful bel- 
 ligerents, was excited to the highest pitch. Many eyes 
 were cast on plentifid and energetic America. The 
 convulsions of nations were incessant and wonderful. 
 The circling billows were every where felt in Europe, 
 and reached the distant shores of the United States. 
 Had we inconsiderately partaken in the war, it would 
 have been without a possibility of benefit. Instead of a 
 conflict of an ordinary character, all the enormous pas- 
 sions of the most wonderful crisis in human affairs 
 would have raged against our unnecessary interposition 
 in a distant contest. Prudence advised and a brave spirit, 
 as it is conscientiously believed, did not forbid a solemn 
 
 determination to stand or fall on the noil of cur cjuh- 
 Cry. 
 
 This digression, if it may be so denominated, seemed 
 necessary to the consideration of some other moral 
 causes, which appear to have contributed to the spirit 
 and resolution of the American character. 
 
 From the original cheapness, of land, from the equal 
 division of intestate and devised property, from the sus- 
 pension of much of our commerce in the revolutionaiy 
 war, and from the predominant agricultural genius of 
 North America, it is safe to suggest, that there arc 
 more landholders in the United States in proportion to 
 immbers, than in any other country in the world. Of 
 course it follows, that there are fewer poor and depen- 
 dent labourers. In the states, where there are black ser- 
 vants, whatever are the bad consequences in various 
 other respects, the elevation of spirit, produced by the 
 contrasted condition of the slaves, is manifest and un- 
 deniable. The planter is always, in some respects, like 
 a military officer, on his own farm. His house is in a 
 degree armed: his discipline, regular and strict: his 
 vigilance keen and incessant. Nor is this a singular ac- 
 companiment of personal slavery. The heroes of Ther- 
 mopylae, the warlike Lacedemonians, had their //r/c-/* ,• 
 and ancient Rome, whose arms subdued the remotest 
 nations of the known world, exempted her citizens from 
 menial services by the labour of slaves. Even the dis- 
 tribution of the people into plebeians or commons and 
 privileged orders has been contended to elevate the 
 courage of some princes and nobles. We must repro- 
 bate the cause and lament its existence, whether the 
 ancient plebeians or modern slaves are the unhappy 
 means of producing this effect; but we cannot with 
 correctness deny its existence in the American charac- 
 ter. 
 
 Plainness and simplicity, by diminishing the number 
 of imaginary wants, produce independence of situation 
 and of mind. So does the facility of finding employ- 
 ment and of acquiring property. The human mercury 
 falls below its natural degree, under tlie chilling influence 
 of miserable poverty. 
 
 The causes and nature of the various institutions of 
 the United States, religious and civil, have combined 
 to produce the noblest elevation of the public mind. 
 The manifestoes and declarations of the American Con- 
 gress, from the time of its original foundation, display 
 the evils, which the people were unwilling to suff"er, the 
 increasing determination to obtain a remedy, a- clear 
 development of rights and interests, a rejection of all 
 atithority and institutions which were unjust, illegal or 
 dangerous, and the creation, by their own will, of new 
 delegations of power and institutions calculated to se- 
 cure the principles and execution of free government, 
 in the church and in the state. The volume of the pub- 
 lic acts, of the disquisitious and constitutional character, 
 issued with all the authority of the nation, from the first 
 proceedings in 1 774 to the time of the completion of our 
 existing national instrument of union, will be found to 
 contain more to e/tvatt the K/iirit of man and /ircsri~i<e thai 
 sfiirit erect and vigorous, than is recorded in the history 
 of any other nation. The true and natural result is, that 
 independent man here knows not anv laws, save those 
 which choice and common good ordain — no master save 
 preserving Heaven. 
 
 Another general characteristic of the North Ameri- 
 cans is that, in their temporal afl'airs, they are a people 
 of intelligence- and exertion.
 
 664 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 The first attempts to settle this country were only 
 two liundicd years ago. Tlic territory of llie United 
 States was then one extended and unproductive forest. 
 In two centuries wc have risen, from the poor condi- 
 tion of importing all things, to export by water, in a 
 single year, property to the vast amount of one hun- 
 dred and eight millions of dollars. If we add to that 
 prodigious sum, the exports by land to the foreign pro- 
 vinces and to the savage tribes around us, the supplies 
 consumed within the country by transient foreigners, 
 the value of the vessels, which arrive and depart, the 
 ships sold to foreign persons, the cargoes carried from 
 the fisheries without coming into port and passing 
 through the custom-houses, and the net outward freights 
 in our own vessels, (all of which constitute a part of the 
 surplus income of the land and industry of the country) 
 we may safely compute the wonderful aggregate at one 
 hundred and twenty millions of dollars in a single year. 
 It may be said, that this is the momentary result of an 
 extraordinary state of things. But yet the whole busi- 
 ness was actually done, and the United Americans have 
 proved their right to the character of intelligence and 
 exertion in using, so well, a transitory opportunity. 
 They seized "the tide in the aflairs of life, which led to 
 fortune." 
 
 But, if the ordinary business of the country, in its ex- 
 ports, freights and other modes of operation, which have 
 been just now detailed, will amount only to half the sum, 
 where, it may be asked, is the country, which shews a 
 like amount for a population less than eight millions ? 
 The shipments of the three British kingdoms are not so 
 valuable in proportion to their people, deducting those 
 which Great Britain sends to Ireland, and Ireland to 
 Great Britain ; deducting all the internal excises which 
 remain on the goods, and the export duties with which 
 they are charged ; and allowing, as is done above, one 
 half its highest amount for the extraordinary advantages 
 they also have had, in their greatest year. But a large 
 addition to the estimate of the industry of the United 
 Americans remains to be made. The amount of the 
 value of our annual clearings of land, of buildings in 
 our towns and in the country, and of other improvements 
 of the cities, farms, mill-seats, canals, roads, and other 
 fixed objects, is very considerable. An accurate com- 
 putation of the whole of our exports and improvements 
 appears to justify the opinion, that we are equal in the 
 intelligence, energy and avails of our exertions to any 
 other nation. We have industriously traversed every 
 sea; and in a few years, we have made new towns, 
 districts, counties, and states out of our immense for- 
 ests. 
 
 The natural demand; the presence of the raw mate- 
 vials, which agriculture and commerce supply ; the in- 
 genuity of native and naturalized artists ; and the im- 
 pediments to commerce have produced a rapid growth 
 of the raanufactures, which began with our early settle- 
 ments, and which have arisen since, from time to time. 
 The greatest consumers in the world of animal food, we 
 export none of the skins of domestic animals : we im- 
 port many : we manufacture all. So of hemp, flax, wool, 
 and metals. Much of these is imported: none is ex- 
 ported worthy of notice, except a little iron : nearly all 
 of these are manufactured. Twenty years ago, cotton 
 was worth two shillings sterling in America, because 
 some of our jealous foreign friends happily forbade its 
 
 shipment hither. Wc commenced its cultivation ; and 
 we now find it at one-third of the price. Its rightful 
 exportation is interfered with : the promotion of its 
 manufacture is therefore full as rapid, as was the ad- 
 vancement of its cultivation. Such a people must know 
 how to work. They must be willing to labour. It is 
 suggested, that they are not a manufacturing people ; 
 but they have had intelligence and energy enough, even 
 in this business, for which uninformed persons allege 
 they are unfit, to make annually the whole of their wool, 
 flax, hemp, skins, metals, and some other raw materials, 
 into a great mass of useful things, to thrice the value of 
 all their exported productions. What must be the bo- 
 dies and minds of a people, lightly considered as merely 
 agricultural and commercial, who shall be found, on a 
 careful enquiry, and after fair estimates, to have imper- 
 ceptibly reached, ui the least supposable line of tlieir 
 national industiy, to the interesting amount of nearly one 
 hundred and fifty millions of dollars ? 
 
 It was deeply lamented by the sagacious and patriotic 
 £)e Witt, that Holland, in his time, had yet among her 
 population a considerable number of the ancient Flemish 
 noble families, with large trains of unnecessary menials, 
 averse to every form of useful exertion. Among the 
 untitled Americans, there are no such causes for politi- 
 cal regret. The equal division of intestate property and 
 the faithful operation of natural affection, in the forma- 
 tion of our wills, have destroyed the seeds of such a de- 
 scription of men ; and our law of naturalization obliges 
 the foreign nobleman to divest himself of such an ap- 
 pendage, before he can enter into our political family, 
 in the character of a citizen. 
 
 Evidences of genius, in the various branches of hu- 
 man industry, and of success in the practice, are not rare 
 in young and simple America. The name of Ji it ten- 
 house, as a mechanical operator and philosopher, is yet 
 to be equalled, by the children of science and the useful 
 arts, even in modern Europe. The ever active and sa- 
 gacious mind of Franklin subjected each busy trade to 
 its uncommon powers, guiding them all with profound 
 science, and with intuitive wisdom ; yet, soaring far 
 above this useful walk, he tempered the rigour of hu- 
 man government, and drew from the thundering atmo- 
 sphere its fiery dangers. The energetic talents of our 
 countrymen, seeking employment, unceasingly erase 
 some valuable commodity from the list of our imports, 
 by new inventions or the skilful execution of the disco- 
 veries of Europe. In naval architecture, within the 
 limits of our past occasions, the world has given us the 
 most favourable award. The American whaler, navigator 
 and mariner have no superiors. We have made our- 
 selves the cultivators of the cotton of the world ; and 
 lately we have obtained, after many a fruitless effort, 
 t/ie golden JJeece. We could have long since given to 
 our agriculture, certain efficacious supports by means 
 of internal industry, if other considerations of momentary 
 weight, had not persuaded us to defer the sure and prac- 
 ticable measures. The United Americans have lent 
 to the school of the fine arts, in the metropolitan state 
 of our ancient empire, a distinguished class of painters, 
 the children of nature ; and the presidency of their Royal 
 Academy has been awarded, with an honourable superi- 
 ority over prejudice, to a native* of the American states. 
 It may be correctly affirmed, as a conclusive truth upon 
 the subject of intelligence and energy in the field of the 
 
 Sir Benjamin West, who was born and educated in Pennsylvania.
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 66!i 
 
 useful ails, that, as wc have never, till the inlmtluctioii 
 of the cotton cultivation, possessed a quantity of any raw 
 material beyond our actual manufactory of it, so our in- 
 dustry and skill were really limited by the want of addi- 
 tional means of employing them, l/iac is to say, by the 
 manifest deficiency of raw mateiials. 
 
 The combination of hydraulic and mechanical science, 
 in the construction of mills, for every variety of business, 
 is a useful and intelligent operation, for which th* citi- 
 zens of America are justly distinguished. It is true, 
 that their situation occasions the constant eliciting of 
 the useful powers of man ; but ex quovis ligno non fit 
 Mercurius : if the Americans had not the natural capa- 
 city and practical skill and exertion, mere occasion could 
 not draw forth these works of intelligence and energy. 
 Other nations require the milled nail, the purified alco- 
 hol, the unmalted beer, the self-moving steam-boat, the 
 quadrant,* the electric rod, and the revolving and pro- 
 phetic planetarium; but heaven ordained them to rise 
 from this infantine country. A few lustres only have 
 rolled over our heads, since we had no moneyed capital. 
 We had then the means, to proffer to the foreign world 
 an exportation worth but eighteen millions of dollars. 
 We have now a capital of one hundred and eight mil- 
 lions of dollars in exportable articles, and more than 
 forty millions in ships and vessels. Cattle, rice, grain, 
 tobacco, and indigo, become redundant and decline in 
 price : we invent the farming in cotton.^ Cattle, rice, 
 grain, tobacco, and indigo, rise in value by the diversion 
 in their favour made by the cotton cultivation. But cot- 
 ton is raised to the immense amount of seventy millions 
 of pounds ; and becomes redundant. We then resume 
 rice and indigo in part, and employ many of the cotton 
 labourers in the cultivation of sugar, and in the propa- 
 gation of the best of sheep. The hand of foreign vio- 
 lence arrests our crops of cotton upon the free ocean. 
 We manifest the impolicy of this lawless conduct by the 
 promotion of manufactures, and create a sure and new 
 support to our own agriculture. Thus do we tread the 
 profitable round of sound intelligence and honest indus- 
 try, in the peace of heaven and of our favoured land, un- 
 hurt, nay prospering, amidst the war of nations, the 
 ■wreck of empires, and the fall of thrones. 
 
 The rights of firo}\erty, which are in their nature 
 founded in pure morality and sound policy, are objects 
 of intelligent regard and decided attachment in the 
 United States. This is a real and very important charac- 
 teristic of the Americans. 
 
 Our federal and state constitutions forbid ex jiost facto 
 laws, and statutes impairing the obligations of contracts, 
 as derogatory from the rights of property. They forbid 
 the states to make any paper bills a legal tender in pay- 
 ment of debts, or to authorise their courts to lessen the 
 security of property provided by treaties. In most of 
 the states a judgment of a court enables the creditor to 
 proceed to sell real property, which is not the case by 
 the law of England. No bank notes are made a tender 
 to pay debts due to private persons in the United States. 
 A mortgage here works an actual hypothecation or 
 pledge of real property, and in most of the states a sale 
 
 may be made in one year. The great and small coiris 
 of United America arc of genuine gold, silver, and cop- 
 pei-, worth, with the expense of coinage, more than the 
 nominal value. There are none of mixed or base me- 
 tals. 
 
 Literary com/iosition is conceived to be on a very 
 sound and useful foundation in the United States. The 
 written productions of the Americans have flowed almost 
 entirely from real and generally lr(jm important occa- 
 sions. The political disquisitions between England and 
 this country, upon the suliject of the claims of the for- 
 mer and the rights of the latter in the interesting period 
 which intervened between the peace of 1753 and that 
 of 1783, were learned in constitutional law, and sound, 
 on the American side, especially the manifestoes of 
 congress. The principles of the English statutes, and 
 particularly of the declaratory acts relating to the United 
 States and to Ireland, were opposed with profound 
 abilities and with success ; for the Irish act, whicli was 
 like the American, was repealed by the English parlia- 
 ment. That of America was not decided by the pen. The 
 correspondence of the American officers, during the 
 revolution, was not inferior to that of the British. The 
 faithful pen of secretary Thompson is known by every 
 diplomatic man. 
 
 The constitutions of the United States are full of the 
 relative principles of law and moral science, well ap- 
 plied and perspicuously arranged. 
 
 Centuries passed without a regular and separate dis- 
 quisition of the British constitution, when at length De 
 Lolme, of Switzerland, presented a handsome attempt 
 in a single volume. | The first year of the coubtilution of 
 the United States gave birth to a more voluminous, and 
 far more learned and profound disquisition of that brief 
 but pithy instrument, under the title of " the Federalist." 
 from the pens of Hamilton and Madison. 
 
 " The defence of the constitutions of the United States^' 
 as they existed in the time of our first confederation of 
 1781 is a collection of historical materials, of more extent, 
 than any, at this moment remembered, upon the sub- 
 ject of forms of government. They are susceptible of 
 application to very useful purposes, in combination 
 with other materials, if properly used by a writer of 
 sound constitutional principles. 
 
 Since the separation of America from England, a 
 new branch of law writing has become necessary. The 
 American reporters arc numerous and increasing. A 
 number of books which have been prepared in scenes, 
 in which strict common law notions have been always 
 prevalent, are highly meritorious. \ number of equal 
 merit have arisen within the spheres of the regular 
 courts of equity or chancery. The rest contribute ma- 
 terially to the promotion of justice, though less conforma- 
 ble to technical regularity. § 
 
 America, in this very early stage of her existence, has 
 produced an epic poem of real merit, founded on the 
 great event in her own recent history, which occasioned 
 her to assume a place among the nations of the earth. 
 The imagery, machinery, and ornaments are fictitious. 
 The events are recorded by the head, the heart, and 
 
 • Called Hadley's, but really invented by our Godfrey, of New Jersey. 
 
 •)■ Publicly recommended by the writer of this article, in 1786 and 1787. 
 
 i Mr Hume has shaken all faith in Mr De Lolme, in the minds of wise and learned Englishmen. Mr De Lolme is completely 
 refuted, as to tlie colonial constitutions, by the American writers. 
 
 $ The principal English reporters, abridgers, and elementary writers, have been republished in the United States, \ritli additions 
 and notes suited to the state of our local jurisprudence. Several of the most interesting works of the Kuropean civiii.ins, and particu- 
 larly of those who h,ave treated of the law of nations and ot mercantile law, have been translated from the Latin and French — enriched 
 with learned notes. And we have anumberof valuable original elemcnt.ary treatises adapted to the law of our own country. Editoks. 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. 4 P
 
 0(30 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 Mic liatul of tnitli. If coiisklcred in a manner unconncc- 
 ttcl with the prejudices of tliut time, or of this, and if it be 
 ]-emenibered that to write a liistory of the living ge- 
 lu ration, is the task of iniconnnon minds, rendered far 
 more difficidtby a poetic dress, the impartial world will 
 give to our country a very liberal credit for this fruit of 
 its ijenius and learning. 
 
 In no species of literary composition have the people 
 of th.e United States exhibited greater or more diversi- 
 ■ lied knowledge, or more real abilities, than in the wri- 
 ting of essays upon the various interesting subjects of 
 the day. The chamber of the press may be considered 
 as a great national forum, co-extensive with our domi- 
 nions, in which, from its substantial freedom, every per- 
 son is at libeity to rise and deliver his sentiments, for 
 the consideration and judgment of his coinitry. With 
 minds, as free and firm as our institutions, it is easy to 
 believe, that writings of the most precious value, may 
 thus appear. Nothing can be suppressed. Every thing 
 may be discussed. Truth, which is ordained even front 
 Infantine minds, flows often here from the untutored pen, 
 while genius and learning have also their full oppor- 
 tunity to instruct and to inform. 
 
 Errors, however supported, may be ultimately ex- 
 ploded by means so potent and free, though interest 
 may govern Snd modify the conduct of influential and 
 powerful individuals. 
 
 Considering how much the history of this country was 
 involved in that of our late entire empire till 1776, it is 
 a strong fact, upon the subject under consideration, that 
 fourteen histories, general or partial, on the American 
 subject, have been written in this country, and per- 
 haps more. 
 
 It is considered that geographical dictionaries, manu- 
 als, and systems, as well general as American, for pue- 
 rile and juvenile instruction, and for the information of 
 mature and strong minds, have been compiled and writ- 
 ten with uncommon correctness in this country. 
 
 In the poetic walk, the general appearances are yet 
 rather symptomatic than decisive. Tne taste in poetry, 
 particularly in our own language and in the Latin, is 
 discriminating, correct, refined and elevated. 
 
 Literature and science have intimate and important 
 relations to the theory and practice of medicine. The 
 range of study, requisite to the formation of a successful, 
 and particularly of a learned physician, is undoubtedly 
 more extended than that, which is necessary even to the 
 more important character of a minister of religion, as 
 well as to those of a practitioner of the law, a judge or 
 a chancellor. There is no department of learned com- 
 position, to which the United States have recently ap- 
 plied greater attention, than that connected with the 
 healing art, and the philosophy of medicine. We may 
 safely claim a very considerable share of the requisite 
 talents, in this benign, indispensable, and elevated branch 
 of human affairs. Many of the physicians of the United 
 States have studied in Europe, in the schools and under 
 the direction of Linnaeus, Hunter, CuUen, Munro, Four- 
 croy and Chaptal, and other eminent teachers in medi- 
 cine, and now exhibit a successful combination of the 
 genius and practice of the new world, with the learning 
 and experience of the older nations. 
 
 From the form and nature of our governments, the 
 communications, reports, and correspondence, of the 
 principal officers, are voluminous and frequent. They dis- 
 play an intimate knowledge of the right theory and prac- 
 iro of public affairs. 
 
 The American character, on the subject of interesting 
 and much injured woman, is nature ameliorated and re- 
 fined by reason, humanity, morals, and religion. The 
 seraglios and nunneries, which respectively injure the 
 character and happiness of Turkey and Italy, are both 
 here unknown. Woman, in America, receives more 
 justice, enjoys freedom, and is the best and truest friend 
 of man. Not only our hearts, but our just miiids confess 
 their merits; and since virtue ia •wisdom^ we arc led to 
 question, in their favour, the superior sense of men} 
 whose characters are imbued with rapine, voluptuous- 
 ness, tyranny, crafty devices, and wild ambition. The 
 influence and authority of woman is most high in that 
 religious society, which approaches as near as any other 
 to the true standard of religion, morals, and public use- 
 fulness ; or in other words, to the most sound criterion of 
 public and private wisdom and virtue. One happy and 
 conclusive evidence of the real merits and of the strong 
 influence of the women of this country, is to be found 
 in the rarity of conjugal infidelity in that part of society, 
 in which it is most frequent in the old world. The in- 
 creasing attentions of parents, brothers, guardians, and 
 husbands, to female education and improvement, and 
 the progressive amelioration of our laws on the female 
 subject, are substantial proofs of a reflected attachment 
 to our mothers, our wives, our daughters, and our sis- 
 ters. Not only the feudal system, but every minute 
 fragment ol that scheme, which considered women as 
 noughts in the creation, is abrogated in America. Consi- 
 dering woman as subjected to a variety of injuries, by her 
 defenceless and attractive nature, the American cha- 
 racter, upon this subject, is not less estimable, than that 
 of any other people of former ages, or of the present time. 
 
 The term of American existence is not yet thirty -lour 
 years (1809). Considering our numbers as two miiiions 
 of white persons in the first year, and seven now, the 
 medium is found at three millions and one half. For 
 a number so inconsiderable, tne persons of high esti- 
 mation, who have lived in that short period, are surely 
 not few. Were it not liable to objections, it is be- 
 lieved, that ten or twenty names, not inferior, in high 
 desert and talent, to an equal proportion from any other 
 country, according to its population, might be safely in- 
 scribed upon the tablet of competition. The weight of 
 such a fact is the more important, because the Ameri- 
 cans, of the last thirty-four years, were not educated for 
 public life ; and were unexcited by the rich collections, 
 in every walk of human talent, which elicit the genius 
 of man in the old world. Many of our best and wisest 
 men had not seen Europe before they were high in the 
 records of deserved fame. Many have never seen any 
 country except our own. If we desire to appreciate the 
 benefits of an adventitious intimacy with the works of 
 humanity, industry, art, and science, upon the youthful 
 mind, we may find them in the rich and variegated ac- 
 quisitions of the conquering Romans from subjugated 
 Greece. In half a century after the fall of Athens, illu- 
 minated Italy shone in its brightest age. It is not the 
 voice of partiality or adulation, therefore, which suggests 
 for the liberal consideration of the world, as the judges 
 in our cause, that, nor Washington, nor Greene, nor 
 Rittenhouse,nor Hamilton, nor Madison, ever beheld the 
 instructive exhibitions of enlightened Europe. 
 
 The amalgamating influence of the course and con- 
 dition of things in America is manifested by the actual 
 character of the Hebrew nation, residing among us. 
 This circumstance will be found to prove, that however
 
 AMERICA, 
 
 667 
 
 dfffercnt arc the sources from which our population is 
 extracted, the powertul influences upon the nearis, un- 
 derstandings and habits of all, who reside here, occasion 
 them to acquire the same characteristics. The mutual 
 animosities subsisting in Europe between Christians 
 and Jews, and between Jews and Mahometans, do not 
 prevail at this time in America. The Hebrew, kit to the 
 theocratical power, wliich here governs the conscience 
 of man, has no cause to hate or to fear his Christian 
 neighbour, who does him no injury in mind, body, or 
 estate. When a Mahometan sultan, in times not very 
 remote, has caused a procession in Constantinople, at 
 every mile of which a Jew was ordered to be slain, the 
 Hebrews among us have thanked our common Father in 
 heaven, that they enjoyed peace and the rights of con- 
 science in this land. When they found that American 
 Christians thus extended humanity and love to every 
 neighbour, they ceased to despise Christians as hypocriti- 
 cal professors of a mild and tender religion, which, in 
 too many other countries, was impiously turned into a 
 church of persecution and cruelty. The inconsistencies 
 of proclaiming peace in the name of Jesus Christ, when 
 the oppressed or tortured Jew could find no peace, and 
 of converting the simplicity and self-denying character of 
 Christianity into pomp, voluptuousness, and a thirst of 
 power, they did not find here. They unite, therefore, 
 with us, as men, as citizens, as patriots, in the love of 
 God, our common creator, differing from tlieir neigh- 
 bours in their private minds, inasmuch as they believe 
 the Messiah is yet to come. Most reverently submitting 
 the consciences of ourselves and of these fellow crea- 
 tures to the divine power, which can command the 
 light to shine upon them and us, it is sufficient for our 
 inquiry to ascertain, that the Hebrews from England, 
 Italy, Spain, Germany, and Portugal, are assimilated to 
 us in many essential particulars, and that their minds 
 are amalgamated with those of the other united Ameri- 
 cans, in the love of religious and civil liberty, humanity, 
 virtue, and knowledge. As a description of men, the 
 Hebrew citizens were generally attached to the revolu- 
 tion of the United States; and they are at this time as 
 friendly as any other church whatsoever to the princi- 
 ples of oor free constitutions. 
 
 It may be correctly affirmed, that no people, equally 
 civilized, have derived the principles and structure of 
 their various institutions in so great a degree from their 
 own will, mind, and power, as the United Americans. 
 We are more original than any others in our policy and 
 economy. Nor have any people varied so much from 
 systems prevalent in the Old World, as we have done 
 in the two centuries of our existence. The world has 
 surely passed, in its freest parts, to greater despotism ; 
 and we have progressed to greater freedom. Libei-ty 
 has been won by the sword, and confirmed by the coun- 
 cils of the United States. If we reflect upon the civil 
 and religious constitutions of Great Britain, and upon 
 her internal economy, at the era of our separation, it 
 will be found that our country has materially altered both, 
 and much more than Great Britain herself. As the 
 changes in America result from the proceedings of se- 
 venteen subordinate and one general legislature, the 
 uniformity of the national character is manifested to be 
 much greater than has heretofore appeared to superficial 
 observers. 
 
 In this country, one language is spoken by all the white 
 
 people, with a very small exception principally in a single 
 state* among persons who have been for a long time 
 settled and patriotic inhal)itants. We mean the (iermans. 
 These have always, tluough theirown numerous gazettes, 
 the fullest information of the bu-,iness, politics, and gene- 
 ral affairs of the United States. In the country, from which 
 we have been separated, four several languages are 
 spoken by immbers of persons in the four European 
 grand divisions. In three of those languages, no publi- 
 cations respecting the affairs of the country are ever 
 made. Three religions bear a forcible sway by the ope- 
 ration of law or of natural strength. The colonies arc 
 remote from the metropolitan state, and widely separat- 
 ed from each other by situation, habits, and interests. 
 These observations arc not made with an invidious de- 
 sign; but if nations claiming rtulional cliarucl<r arc, 
 in truth, so diversified by natural and moral or habitual 
 circumstances, it may be fairly presumed, that we also, 
 less diversified, may really possess national characteris- 
 tics. 
 
 It is well known that the versatile character of man is 
 quickly formed and altered by the influence of natural or 
 moral causes. It is therefore important, that (general 
 firincifiles are so universally and decidedly established, 
 after mature consideration, in the United States, as to 
 produce universal effects; and this too upon aliens as 
 well as natives. The laws arc not only to govern, but 
 to protect the orderly. This coincides with the interests 
 and feelings of the many, whether foreign or American. 
 1 hey all rejoice in the circumstance, because it gratifies 
 their self-love and promotes their interests. It is rea- 
 sonable to believe, that no men would more earnestly 
 oppose an inquisition, a conscription, an impressment, a 
 picketing, the torture, or an established church in 
 America, than those, who have fled from their native 
 homes to enjoy our happy exemptions from those great 
 and obvious evils. This description of men might be 
 safely expected to endure every hardship and suffer all 
 the severities of persecution and warfare, before they 
 would relinquish our protecting constitutions. 
 
 The form and nature of our country, without conquer- 
 ed annexations, or dependent colonies, occasion the 
 condition of the Americans to exhibit a perfect civil 
 uniformity, unknown and impracticable in any other 
 maritime empire, and highly influential upon the unifor- 
 mity of the national character. The white and free 
 black inhabitants are all included in this observation ; 
 for it is a truth, that the free blacks regularly adopt and 
 display the institutions, apparel, furniture, and habits 
 of the whites. They are generally Episcopalians, Cal- 
 vinists, and Methodists, in those places where all the 
 Christian sects are within their free observation. It 
 would be very difficult to adopt a civil constitution, by 
 which the white inhabitants of the West Indian, South 
 American, and East Indian colonies of the European 
 states, could fully partake in their respective national 
 governments. Yet it is found not only easy in this coun- 
 try, but really necessary to the just, convenient and 
 uniform operation of our principles and systems. Man 
 is justly contemplated, by our laws and by our political 
 science, as an intelligent creation of the divine power. 
 It is known that the highest intellect of the red and 
 black races of men is sensibly better than that of the 
 feeblest of the whites. As we cannot discriminate as 
 to rights among the whites by the principle of intellect. 
 
 • Psul of the people of German descent, in the state of Pennsylvania. 
 
 4 P 2
 
 668 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 the same rule presses itself upon our rei^ard with re- 
 spect to the free people ol' the red and black, races. 
 Divine providence has ordained the existence of the 
 coloured races of men, and we believe and know, that 
 the same supreme authority has imperiously ordain- 
 ed humanity and justice among his intelligent and re- 
 spoiisible creatures. Our institutions, therefore, con- 
 sider all men alike. We endeavour, with care, pains, 
 and expense, to civilize the red people, and to persuade 
 them to embrace our political economy, our civil insti- 
 tutions, our morals, and our religion ; or, in other words, 
 to conform to our national plan of public and private 
 happiness. So of the blacks, in certain degrees, times, 
 and places ; though it is true and manifest that their 
 numuers and their condition, with many attending cir- 
 cumstances, render the operations of justice, humanity, 
 and an enlightened policy towards them, awfully danger- 
 ous at this time, and insupportably costly, and conse- 
 quently very gradual, deliberate, and arduous. Their 
 natural condition is a manifest dispensation of the divine 
 hand ; and when it shall appear in a future day, that the 
 humanity of our* white people has raised tlie blacks 
 from the African ( ondition, which is but a little higher 
 than the jiext inferior class of beings, to the knowledge 
 and practice of the salutary arts of civilization, morals, 
 and religion, the meritorious choice of good on the part 
 of the whites, will be thereby humbly manifested to the 
 universal fatlier of m.en. 
 
 The comparative wisdom and virtue of the large de- 
 scriptions of men in various nations, who hold the nu- 
 merous bodies of slaves, which exist within their re- 
 spective couiaries, is a fair subject of consideration ; 
 and it is believed that it cannot be justly made to appear 
 to the disadvantage of those of North America. The 
 citizens of our slave states, and the northern slave- 
 holders have consented to and co-operated in the mea- 
 sures of this country for the arrestation and abolition of 
 the slave trade. They have softened the rigour of the 
 ancient slave laws. They have improved the apparel, 
 food, habitations, and general treatment of the black 
 people. In most of those slates and districts, where 
 safely pemaits the measures, they have adopted a sys- 
 tem for the gradual abolition of slavery, and entered 
 upon the operation by numerous emancipations, and by 
 the substitution of a contracted service for a term of 
 years, in lieu of personal and hereditary slavery. Did 
 the laws of Greece and Rome go further? Do those of 
 the modern empires of Europe go so far in respect to 
 their white cerfs or African slaves? 
 
 When it is considered with what ease and prompti- 
 tude doctrines so new as those of the Newtonian philo- 
 sophy were adopted in all free countries, and even in 
 others, though they were the fruit of the wisdom and 
 learning of a single mind, it will not be considered as 
 improliable, that the political principles of the North 
 Americans, and their manifest beneficence to the many, 
 should as easily and promptly become objects of adop- 
 tion and attachment to those persons, who arrive among 
 us from other climes. These acceptable principles oc- 
 casion all men, who have not opposing interests or pre- 
 judices to rally, as it were, around them, to partake of 
 their nature and spirit, and thus, in fine, to exhibit the 
 same characteristics. Republican principles, or in other 
 words, their own just rights and substantial interests, 
 must be acceptable to the unbiassed mass of every com- 
 
 munity , and this must occasion them, where it is safe 
 and lawful, to be naturally embraced and exhibited. 
 Many, nay «//, may enjoy here these personal rights. 
 A few only can enjoy the advantages of aristocracy and 
 hierarchy: one of despotism or unlimited monarchy. 
 The citizens of this country, therefore, as well naturalized 
 as native, easily and quietly assimilate themselves in a 
 prudent opposition to the power of a few, and in an open 
 legitimate maintenance of the rights of the whole of the 
 members of the community. 
 
 As the united Americans have displayed a distinct, a 
 strong, and almost a peculiar character on the impor- 
 tant subject of religious liberty, so they have very con- 
 siderably distinguished themsehes by their theory and 
 /iractice in civil Jio/ity. 
 
 The present North American constitutions are su- 
 preme written laws, sanctioning, recognising, and adopt- 
 ing however the law of nations, and tAe commoii law of 
 our original confederated empire. They place in a state 
 of separation and mutual hidependence, in a more con- 
 siderable degree than any other country, the legislative, 
 executive, and judicial powers. It is on the subject of 
 removal from an office, and incapacity to fill another, in 
 consequence of guilt, that the senatorial branch of the 
 legislature exercises the only judiciary power, which is 
 not entirely confined to the judicial courts of law, equity, 
 and admiralty. But the senate can award no punish- 
 ment in person or in property. 
 
 It is on the subject of appointment to office and of 
 treaties with foreign powers, that the senatorial branch 
 of the legislature exercises the only executive power 
 which is not entirely confined to the president of the 
 United States and his various aids and subordinates in 
 the national government. 
 
 It is in a qualified negative on the bills, prepared for 
 enacting into laws, that the president possesses the only 
 legislative power, which is not strictly confined to the 
 congress of the United States. But the president's veto 
 is precisely modified; for if two-thirds of the congress 
 shall, on reconsideration, approve of a constitutional 
 bill, it becomes a binding and effective law, although it 
 may have received the negative of the president, accom- 
 panied by his reasons. The congress, then, composed 
 of the representatives of the seventeen states in the 
 senatorial house, and of the representatives of all the 
 landholders and legitimate citizens, in the national house 
 of representatives, are the sufireme organ of the sovereign 
 people of the United States. Nearly all the emoluments 
 of public office, power, and authority, are specifically 
 granted by this legislative congress, in which no judi- 
 cial, executive, military, or naval officer, can hold a 
 seat. 
 
 There is no religious test, under the constitution of 
 the United States ; nor can such test be prescribed by 
 their statutes. It follows, therefore, that no person can 
 be disqualified from exercising any office or power by his 
 religious opinions, or profession. The established oaths 
 are, one, " to support the constitution of the United 
 States," and another, faithfully to execute the public 
 trust, on which the functionary is about to enter. 
 
 The provisions of the constitution, on the subject of 
 the army, prevent troops being raised by the executive 
 power, or president : so of the navy. The army cannot 
 be provided, for more than two years at a time, even by 
 the legislature. The practice is to provide their ex- 
 
 ' The United .\mericaiis led the Europeans into the abolition of the slave trade.
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 tJ69 
 
 pcnses for^ one year at a time. The praciicc respecting 
 the navy is the same, as to an annual provision. 
 
 The judges, even in chancery and in the admiralty, 
 are independent of the people, oi' the legislature, and of 
 the executive power, beuig commissioned to act during 
 good behaviour, which commission cannot be vacated, 
 but by death, resignation, or conviction on an impeach- 
 ment by the house of representatives, as the grand in- 
 quest of the nation, and after trial before the senate, as 
 the tribunal assigned for the deciding on impeachment. 
 So as to the common law judges. 
 
 The members of the legislature, to preserve their 
 independence, and military officers by land and sea, 
 cannot be impeached. All other public functionaries, 
 being considered as " civil offici-rs," can be impeached. 
 
 The unlawful acts, of all public officers, subject them 
 to ti'ials for crimes, and damages at the suit of the Uni- 
 ted States, of a particular state, or of individuals. 
 
 There is no civil impediment to the election, employ- 
 ment, or appointment of a minister of religion in any 
 station, civil, military, or naval, under the constitution of 
 the United States. 
 
 All facts are ascertained, under the same, by trial by 
 jury, in civil as well as criminal cases. Testimony in 
 the courts of law is oral, except in the case of going, 
 sick or aged witnesses in civil suits, or those who are 
 out of the jurisdiction : so in the admiralty. In the 
 courts of chancery, testimony is allowed to be oral and 
 written. — All witnesses, in criminal cases, are subject 
 to be confronted, in open court, l)y the accused, with 
 his counsel. In such cases, the juiy is required to be 
 of the vicinage, 
 
 Militai'v officers, by land and sea, may be subjected 
 to criminal or civil proceedings in the courts of la\v, to 
 criminal proceedings in the courts martial, to calls and 
 detentions from places of authority and importance, and 
 to executive removals from office. 
 
 A numerical census of the people of the United States 
 was taken, after the commencement of government, un- 
 der the federal constitution, to fix, by polls, the propor- 
 tion of representatives. The same operation has been 
 twice repeated after lapses of ten years, for the same 
 purpose, in execution of a rule of the constitution. It 
 is ever hereafter to be performed once within ten 
 years. 
 
 The senatorial branch is made to represent the seven- 
 teen* several states or members of the American union, 
 by two senators from each ; in order that the great may 
 not injure the small, and that this important branch of 
 the government may ever faithfully and effectually pre- 
 serve the due weight and the existence of the states. 
 They are respectively chosen once in six years, by the 
 state legislatures ; but death and resignation have occa- 
 sioned them to be more frequent. No representative in 
 congress can be sent by a district with less than thirty 
 thousand inhabitants. The representatives' districts are 
 required to be equal. The members of the senate are 
 thirty-four; and they cannot deliberate without the pre- 
 sence of a majority of the whole body. — The house of 
 representatives are subjected to the same constitutional 
 rule ; and their whole number is one hundred and forty- 
 two. The legislature must assemble once in every year, 
 and cannot be adjourned, prorogued, or dissolved, nor 
 debarred from meeting by the president of the United 
 
 States. He has no participation in the choice of their 
 speakers or presidents. The chairman of the represen- 
 tatives is called their speaker, and is cliosen by them- 
 selves. The vice-president of the United States is, ex 
 ufficio, president of the senate. In his absence that body 
 chooses, uncontrolled, a president /iro tcm/i'jrc. The 
 legislature, in each house, judges of the freedom of 
 speech of its members. No otlier authority can inter- 
 fere. 
 
 Seventeen chambers or colleges of presidential elec- 
 tors are chosen by the seventeen states in every fourth 
 year. These colleges are equal to the whole numbei- of 
 representatives and senators, which the several states 
 arc respectively entitleil to send to the national legisla- 
 ture. They meet, on the same day, in distinct colleges; 
 in their own proper state ; under the protection of its 
 government and its freemen or militia; and choose by 
 ballot one person as president of the United States, and 
 another person as vice-president of the United States, 
 each to serve four years. In the event of the death, 
 resignation, or removal of the president of the United 
 Slates, (for he may be removed on impeachment and 
 conviction) the vice-president becomes our chief nation- 
 al executive magistrate, for the remaining part of the 
 four years. The salaries of these officers are fixed at 
 the commencement of their respective terms of office, 
 and cannot afterwards be increased or diminished. The 
 president's salary has invariably been^myjy-five thou- 
 sand American dollars per annum, wit^B^Prcsponding 
 provision of about fifteen thousand dollars, for the pur- 
 chase of furniture during his term of office. The emo- 
 luments of the vice-president have been five thousand 
 dollars per annum. Neither of tiiese officers can derive 
 any other compensation from any other office. 
 
 The militia of the United States embraces every free 
 male white inhabitant between eighteen and forty-five 
 years, and may be accurately considered as the stand- 
 ing army of the constitution. As it embraces all free 
 white persons of that age, in every state, county, city, 
 town, and section, it must be, every where and at all 
 times, present. In cases of actual national service, 
 the president of the United States is its commander 
 whenever present, as captain-general and commander 
 in chief of all the forces of the United States by sea and 
 land. The governors of the stales command their re- 
 spective grand divisions, or the militia of their own 
 states; and they generally appoint their major-generals 
 and adjutants general. The other officers are either 
 appointed by the govenmients oi- elected by the militia 
 of the states. All officers of the militia are commissioned 
 by the chief executive magistrates of the several states. 
 Ministers of religion of every church may be elected to 
 seats in either branch of the national legislature; but 
 they have no extraordinary power or influence, in virtue 
 of their ecclesiastical character, the national government 
 being restrained by the people and the states from all 
 concern in ecclesiastical power. Religion, like morals, 
 and tenures of land within the limits of each state, is 
 exempted from the jurisdiction of the national legisla- 
 ture, unless any attempt should be made to make an 
 anti-republican church establishment. Whenever such 
 an attempt is made by any state, the general govern- 
 ment must interpose its prevention. 
 
 The president of the United States is required to be 
 
 ' An eighteenth state, under the name of Lnuislana, is nearly matured for inti'oducUon into the \
 
 <370 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 Ihirly-five years of age. The members of the senate of 
 the United States must have arrived at the age of thirty 
 years. The members of the house of representatives 
 must have arrived at the age of twenty-five. 
 
 The legislators receive a compensation for actual ser- 
 vice, but arc not permitted to hold any office at the same 
 time, except in the militia, which is always regarded 
 with favour and confidence l)y the constitutions, laws, 
 functionaries, and people of the union and of the states. 
 It is the natural strength of the country, imbodied and 
 organized — interested in the national freehold — in its 
 peace, liberty, safety, and prosperity : the fathers, hus- 
 bands, brothers, and sons, of its children and its ma- 
 trons : the guardians and defenders of the young, the 
 old, the peaceful, the tender, and the infirm: the true 
 effective constitutional balance of the regular forces by 
 land and sea, which the course of human affairs cannot 
 but occasionally require. There are no prejudices against 
 regular forces in the United States; but the history of 
 all countries teaches our civil and militaiy citizens to 
 be aware of the dangers of standing armies in peace 
 and war. Most of tiie individuals, who are considered 
 to have jeopardized the United States, since their poli- 
 tical birth, were military men; and it is not doubted that 
 they contemplated, as their means, a part of the army 
 of the time. It is therefore important to suppress trea- 
 son, as well as to repel invasion, that the fourteen hun- 
 dred thous^^^inited Americans, able to carry arms, 
 should be n^jj^ and provided. 
 
 The powers of the several legislatures extend to all 
 objects necessary to provide for our internal concerns 
 and external relations. They can authorize all the re- 
 quisite measures, and grant the necessary revenues. 
 
 The other powers of the president of the United States 
 extend to the management of their external relations, in 
 a defined conjunction with the senate, to the command 
 of all the forces by sea and land, and to the superinten- 
 dence and enforcement of all the laws enacted by con- 
 gress. On application of a state, the general government 
 must protect it from domestic violence. 
 
 The powers of the judiciary department of the United 
 States extend to all cases affecting our foreign relations, 
 cases between citizens of the United Slates and foreign- 
 ers, and cases among citizens residing in or claiming 
 under different states. 
 
 The several departments of the state governments are 
 similarly divided and authorized to operate in their le- 
 gislative, executive, and judicial departments. They 
 can exercise their legitimate functions without the in- 
 terference of the national government; and they can 
 
 authorise and execute the training of the militia and the 
 appointment of its officers, without control. 
 
 So comprehensive and so completely pi-ovisional have 
 the numerous articles of our several constitutions been 
 found, after the experience of nearly tweniy years, that 
 no amendment necessary to jiublic order is at present 
 ascertained to be wanting, except it be an eminent ap- 
 pellate tribunal in cases of difference in solemn ad- 
 judications of the federal and state tribunals, upon mat- 
 ters, which the constitutions of the union and of the 
 state are held subject to the powers and to the con- 
 sciences of the respective courts. No stronger proof 
 than this very comprehensive mass ot detailed provi- 
 sions, founded on principles and modified by prudence, 
 can well be adduced to establish the position, that the 
 united Americans are justly distinguished by their the- 
 ory and practice in civil polity. 
 
 Such then, it is believed, as has been cursorily in- 
 dicated in these papers, are some of the genuine cha- 
 racteristics of the united Americans. A people, who 
 manifest their humble reverence for their Creator, by 
 observing a respect, perfect and profound, for his sole 
 authority over the conscience of man : a people, who 
 prove their love of their neighbours, by establishuig 
 equal justice for all, in conscience, person, and estate : 
 a people, who jealously defend their peace with foreign 
 nations, by exempting the power over war from indivi- 
 dual ambition, rage, avarice, or caprice : a people who 
 have softened the evils of the slavish and the savage 
 life, and the miseries of the wretched and devoted cri- 
 minal : who have restored the injured rights of the ten- 
 der sex, and of their younger children : who have raised 
 themselves by industry, economy, and skill, from the 
 condition of the unproductive wilderness to unexampled 
 prosperity : who have produced the peace-loving sol- 
 dier, the moral statesman,* the minister of religion with- 
 out temporal reward, the philosopher of the two worlds, 
 the skilful epitomizer of the planetary fi-ame, the wisest 
 institutes of man, and the spiritual worship of the 
 DIVINE SUPREME. Such are the strong influences of 
 nature and of necessity upon the American people ; such 
 the influences of religious reformations, unchecked by 
 temporal power; such the influences of civil reforma- 
 tions, which right suggested, and distant power could 
 not prevent : such are the tenacious, firm and substan- 
 tial materials, of which the American frame of mind 
 and body is made by Providence and by second na- 
 ture ; and such is, in doubtless truth, the genuine, pecu- 
 liar, and well marked character of this youthful na- 
 tion. 
 
 AMES, Fisher. On the illustrious subject of the 
 present article, we feel most sensibly how difficult it is to 
 think without emotion, or to speak with that coolness and 
 self-controul, that temperance and impartiality, that be- 
 come the biographer. If, however, on any point of his- 
 tor)-, it be admissible to indulge in the language of sen- 
 sibility, it is when attempting to portray the virtues and 
 talents, the dispositions and achievements, of so excel- 
 lent, so amiable, and so distinguished an individual. He 
 was one of those extraordinary characters, that, at long 
 
 intervals, a beneficent providence calls into existence, to 
 instruct, delight, and astonish mankind. Had he been a 
 citizen of Greece, when in the zenith of her glory, or 
 of Rome, during the period of her fairest renown, he 
 would have been pre-eminent in the ranks of statesmen 
 and legislators, patriots and orators. In modern times, 
 few men, devoted exclusively to civil pursuits, have 
 moved in a sphere more elevated and radiant. From 
 the commencement till near the close of his public ca- 
 reer, which, alas ! was almost as transient as it was bril- 
 
 At the head of these, is the great moral statesman, the late president Washington.
 
 S/mtrf l*ift.r. 
 
 - ^/-> /y/ /^ - yf^m^e-:)
 
 A31ES. 
 
 671 
 
 liant, although associated with the ablest men of the 
 nation, liis wisdom in council, and his eloquence in de- 
 bate, imposed on him the arduous and responsible office 
 of a Icadf.r, in many of the most intricate concerns of 
 legislation. As long as the state of his health enabled 
 him to persevere in the exertions necessary lor main- 
 taining the station he had acquired, his ascendency in 
 the house of representatives of the United States was 
 as sensibly felt and as generally acknowledged, as that 
 of Fox or Pitt, Burke or even Chatham, in the British 
 parliament. 
 
 Wnen we contemplate him surrounded by all the at- 
 tributes of character, that justly appertained to him ; a 
 mind rich in the most splendid endowments of nature, 
 heightened by whatever cultivation could bestow ; a 
 heart pregnant with every moral virtue, and glowing 
 with the purest and noblest sentiments ; a social tem- 
 perament consisting of every quality calculated to conci- 
 liate, delight, and endear ; and a zeal for the welfare of 
 his country, and the happiness of his fellow citizens, 
 which burned with a vestal purity and vigilance, and was 
 too ardent for the strength of his finely organized and 
 sensitive frame ;* — when we view him thus elevated by 
 his native powers, and clothed in excellencies so nume- 
 rous and resplendent, we can with difficulty set bounds to 
 our admiration and esteem, or prevent our affection from 
 rising to enthusiasm. It is when engaged in the con- 
 templation of such a character that we feel most incli- 
 ned to glory in our birth-right, and experience the live- 
 liest sense of gratitude for the privilege conferred on 
 us, of belonging to an order of beings so exalted. 
 
 When society is deprived by death of an individual so 
 eminent, it devolves as a duty on those who survive 
 him, if to emulate his greatness be too hopeless an 
 undertaking, at least to cherish his memory, and prac- 
 tise his virtues ; and, by recording his character in the 
 most public and permanent form, to extend and per- 
 petuate his example, for the benefit of mankind. 
 
 The principal end of biography is threefold : to de- 
 light, to instruct, and to stimulate. The first of these 
 objects is effected chiefly by a recital of the actions, 
 and a view of the virtues and dispositions, of eminent 
 men, connected with an account of the various inci- 
 dents and events of their lives ; the second, by a faith- 
 ful representation of the methods and measures, by 
 which their eminence was gradually attained ; and the 
 third, by holding forth the honours confered on them, and 
 the influence and consideration they had acquired in the 
 world, as incentives to awaken the emulation of others. 
 When biography has accomplished this treble purpose, 
 besides doing justice to distinction and worth, and grati- 
 fying that universal and laudable curiosity, which is so 
 eager to be made acquainted with the lives of great 
 men, she encourages the timid, gives hope to the de- 
 sponding, rouses the inactive, furnishes the enterprising 
 with a chart for their conduct, and teaches every one 
 to turn to the best account, the powers and means with 
 which he is intrusted. With a view to the promotion 
 of objects like these, as well as in grateful commemo- 
 ration of the merits of the deceased, we have ventured 
 to prepare a biographical notice of the illustrious per- 
 sonage under our consideration. 
 
 Fisher Ames was the youngest of a family consisting of 
 
 five children. lie wasbornon the yih ol April 1758,intiie 
 old parish of l)edham, a pleasant country town, situated 
 in the county of Nmioik, about nine miles from the city 
 of Boston. Descended Ironi one of the oldest families 
 in the state of Massachusetts, he was, in the strictest 
 sense of the word, an American. In this respect, his 
 blood was as free from foreign admixture, as liis spirit 
 was from foreign partialities. Although by far the 
 most able and enunent of bis line, he was not the only one 
 of them that aspired to and attained distinction in letters. 
 His father, a man of uncommon wit, acuteness, and 
 worth, was a practitioner of medicine, high in reputa- 
 tion. In addition to the extent ol his professional attain- 
 ments, he was well versed in natural philosophy, astro- 
 nomy, and mathematics. He died in July 1764, when 
 the subject of this article had but little more than com- 
 pleted the sixth year of his age. He also numbered in 
 the line of his ancestry, the rev. William Ames, who 
 flourished about the beginning of the seventeenth cen- 
 tury, and was the author of a very able work, denomina- 
 ted Medulla Theologise, and several smaller tracts in po- 
 lemical divinity. That celebrated English divine, unable 
 to brook the spirit of intolerance by which he was assail- 
 ed, under the authority of Christ's College in Cambridge, 
 emigrated to tlie States of t'riesland, where he was af- 
 terwards chosen a professor in their University. He 
 was an active member in the synod of Dort, in the year 
 1618. That he might be still farther removed from that 
 most galling of tyrannies, which interferes with the rights 
 of conscience and the forms of devotion, he had made de- 
 finitive arrangements for emigrating to New England, 
 but was prevented by death in the month of November 
 1635. We mention these facts to show, that the family 
 of Ames had been long distinguished by their love of 
 freedom. 
 
 On the death of young Ames's father, his mother was 
 left with a family, in straitened circumstances, to strug- 
 gle with the difficulties incident to her situation. As if 
 inspired, however, with a presentiment of the future 
 destinies of her son, she determined to bestow on him 
 a liberal education. She accomplished her task, lived 
 to rejoice in his prosperity and eminence, to witness the 
 manifestations of his filial piety, and to weep alas 1 over 
 his untimely grave. 
 
 In a notice like the present, much that is important 
 must be necessarily omitted. It is scarcely allowable 
 therefore, to exhibit even a transient view of the scin- 
 tillations of genius in the morning of life, when they 
 are so completely lost in the lustre of its meridian. Were 
 such a step admissible, it would be easy to show the 
 early and rapid development of the faculties of Mr 
 Ames — that he surpassed, in vigour and activity of in- 
 tellect, the companions of his childhood, no less than the 
 associates of his riper years. 
 
 At the age of six, he commenced the study of the Latin 
 language. Here, the incompetency of teachers, and the 
 frequent interruptions he experienced in his scholastic 
 pursuits, were serious barriers in the way of his improve- 
 ment. The energy of his own mind, however, aided by 
 a degree of industry cxemplaiy for his years, supplied 
 the want of every thing else, and hurried him along in 
 the road to knowledge. In the spring of 1770, his twelfth 
 year being just completed, he was received as a student 
 
 • Mr Ames, as his writings evince, regarded with more than usual apprehension and horror, the strides of France towards universal 
 empire. If his death was not accelerated, his health was at least materially impaired, by his deep and constant solicitude about the 
 liberties of his country.
 
 672 
 
 AMES. 
 
 into Harvard College. Preparatory to his admission, he 
 was examined by one of the ablest scliolars of the couniry, 
 V ho had loni; been a teacher of the ieaniecl lanijuagcs. 
 On this occasion, such was the readiness and accuracy 
 he manifested, and such his acquaintance with the prin- 
 (ipics of lanijuage, even at so early a period, that his 
 acquirements excited admiration and applause. From 
 that time, he was considered as a youtli of very dis- 
 tinguished promise. 
 
 During the years that are spent in college, the cha- 
 racter usually begins to unfold itself. To young Ames, 
 this development was highly honourable. Persevering 
 in his studies, conciliating in his manners, gentlemanly in 
 his deportment, and amiable in his disposition, he was 
 equally the ornament and delight of the institution. From 
 his strict subordination to discipline, the cori-ectness of 
 his general conduct, and his distinguished attainments in 
 learning, he became and continued a favourite with his 
 teachers ; while his associates were charmed with the 
 affability of his manners and the brilliancy of his parts. 
 
 Among the subordinate institutions of the college, 
 calculated to minister to the improvement of the youth, 
 was a society recenily established for the cultivation of 
 elocution. In this young Ames discovered an object capa- 
 ble of awakening all his ambition ; for even now, he covet- 
 ed fame, and was warmly enamoured of the glory of elo- 
 quence. In the declamations which he practised under this 
 establishment, he was early distinguished by the proprie- 
 ty, energy, and elegance of his delivery. In specimens of 
 lofty and impassioned eloquence, in particular, his man- 
 ner was peculiarly forcible and impressive. From the apt- 
 ness of his genius for oratory, and the assiduity with 
 which he devoted himself to its cultivation, he might 
 soon be said to stand alone in the society. Discouraged 
 and humbled by the acknowledged superiority of a youth 
 so far behind most of them in point of years, his fellow- 
 students were at length induced to yield him the palm 
 without competition. His orations, though mostly select- 
 ed, were occasionally the productions of his own pen. In 
 these instances he manifested a capacity for the style and 
 manner of the orator. Although he never offered him- 
 self a candidate for" wi-eaths of rich Parnassian growth," 
 the invocation of the muse of poetry was sometimes 
 the employment of his leisure hours. Even at this early 
 period, his compositions exhibited something of the 
 same stamp and character which marked them so strong- 
 ly in after life. They were figurative and sententious, 
 highly animated, and rich in M'nament. 
 
 Amidst the dissipation, which, notwithstanding the 
 most strict and salutary laws, is too often attendant on a 
 college life, it was the felicity of young Ames to pre- 
 serve his morals free from taint. Like the person of 
 Achilles by the waters of the Styx, his mind was render- 
 ed invulnerable, by a happy temperament and a virtuous 
 education. This circumstance amounts to no ordinary 
 praise. When vice approaches the youthful mind in the 
 seductive form of a beloved companion, the ordeal be- 
 comes threatening and dangerous in the extreme. Few 
 possess the prudence and unyielding firmness requisite to 
 pass it in triumpliant safety. One of these few, was the 
 subject of this article. Those who have been accurately 
 observant of the dependence of one part of life on another, 
 will readily concur with us, that his future character de- 
 rived much of its lustre, and his fortunes much of their 
 elevation, from the untainted purity and irreproachable- 
 ness of his youth. Masculine virtue is as necessary to 
 real eminence, as a powerful intellect. He that is de- 
 
 ficient in either will never, unless from the influence of 
 fortuitous circumstances, be able to place and maintain 
 himself at the head of society. He may rise and flour- 
 ish for a lime, but his fall Is as certain as hie descent 
 to the grave. 
 
 As happily illustrating and confirming the preceding 
 observations, we cannot resist the temptation of intro- 
 ducing, in this place, a few very sensible and well ex- 
 pressed sentiments of a friend to Mr Ames, in relation 
 to his early habits of virtue, and the influence they ex- 
 ercised over his subsequent character and standing in 
 society. "Young Ames," says this elegant writer," did 
 not need the smart of guilt to make him virtuous, nor 
 the regret of folly to make him wise. He seems to have 
 been early initiated in that caution and self-distrust, 
 which he used afterwards to inculcate. He was ac- 
 customed to say " we have but a slender hold of our 
 virtues ; they ought, therefore, to be cherished with 
 care, and practised with diligence. He who holds 
 parley with vice and dishonour, is sure to become theii' 
 slave and victim. The heart is more than half cor- 
 rupted that does not burn with indignation at the slight- 
 est attempt to seduce it." 
 
 " His spotless youth" continues his biographer and 
 friend," brought blessings to the whole remainder of his 
 life. It gave him the entire use of his faculties, and 
 all the fruit of his literaiy education. Its effects ap- 
 peared in that fine edge of moral feeling which he 
 always preserved ; in his strict and often austere tem- 
 perance ; in his love of occupation that made activity 
 delight ; in his distaste for public diversions, and his 
 preference of simple pleasures. Beginning well, he 
 advanced with unremitted steps in the race of virtue, 
 and arrived at the end of life in peace and honour." 
 These are sentiments which we earnestly recommend 
 to the notice of the youth of our country. They de- 
 serve to be treasured up with care and guarded with 
 more than miserly vigilance. They are precious beyond 
 gold and pearl and jewels, and all that is comprised in 
 the riches of the east. Besides shielding the early 
 periods of life from those vices and dissipations, which 
 sow the seeds and quicken the germ of future wretched- 
 ness, they will tend to crown a manhood of vigour, 
 usefulness, and renown, with an old age of peace and ho- 
 nour, and to scatter blessings on the verge of the grave. 
 
 In the year 1774, when he had just completed his 
 sixteenth year, Mr Ames was admitted to the degree 
 of Bachelor of Arts. He took leave of college, bearing 
 along with him an equal share of affection and honour. 
 To say nothing of the excellence of his scholarship, he 
 was pronounced the most eloquent of the sons of Har- 
 vard. 
 
 The struggle of the American colonies for freedom 
 soon afterwards commencing, rendered the times per- 
 plexing and perilous. They were particularly so for the 
 youth of the country, who had yet their principles to 
 settle, and their plan of life to shape. Too young to 
 be employed in the public councils, and not having 
 a predilection for the profession of arms, Mr Ames took 
 no active part in the contest which ensued. His soul, 
 however, with its best wishes, was with the sages who 
 toiled, and the heroes who bled, in the cause of Indepen- 
 dence. Nor was this all. Juvenile as he was, his pen was 
 frequentlv employed in anonymous addresses, calculated 
 by their wisdom to instruct the patriot, and by Uieir 
 impassioned eloquence to animate the soldier. 
 
 Influenced no less bv the wishes of his mother, to
 
 AMES. 
 
 c: 
 
 whom his obcdicnre and piety were exemplary, than 
 by the early predilection of liis own mind, he iiad deter- 
 mined, almost from his childhood, on devoting him- 
 self to forensic pursuits. lie did not, however, en- 
 ter on the study of his profession, till the year 1781, 
 when he commenced under the direction of William 
 Tudor, Esq. an eminent counsellor of tlic city of Bos- 
 ton. The interim, from his leaving college to this period, 
 Mr Ames had in no instance misemployed or abused. 
 On the contrary, he had passed it in a manner useful to 
 the community, as well as advantageous and honoura- 
 ble to himself His reading, although somewhat irre- 
 gular, had been so e.Ktensive and multifarious, as to ex- 
 cite astonishment, and almost surpass belief His 
 ardour for books amoimted to enthusiasm. During this 
 period, he not only revised the classical works which he 
 had previously read in the course ol his academical 
 studies, but, not satisfied witli this, pushed his research- 
 es still further into the rich stores of ancient learning. 
 No man relished, in a higher degree, the beauties of 
 Greek and Roman literature. Few in America have 
 been more familiar with them. On the works of Virgil 
 he dwelt with rapture ; and could recite, from inemory, 
 with an eloquence and force peculiar to himself, all his 
 most splendid and touching passages. His rehearsal 
 of the stories of Nisusand Euryalus, Pallas and Evander, 
 Lausus and Mezenlius, is said to have been a specimen 
 of most pathetic elocution. Poetry was now the luxury 
 of his mind He read with -attention all the principal 
 English poets, and became familiar with the writhigs of 
 Milton and Shakspcare, committing to memory many 
 passages of peculiar excellence. This course of reading, 
 although possibly in some instances not well directed, 
 tended greatly to extend and liberalize, enrich and 
 embelish, the mind of the young student. It aided in 
 supplying him with that fund of materials for writing 
 and speaking which he possessed and exhibited in 
 sucK inexhaustible abundance. It was also the source, 
 in part, of his unprecedented fertility and aptness of 
 allusion — his ability to evolve, with a felicity we never 
 witnessed in any other speaker, a train of imagery 
 suited to every subject and every occasion. 
 
 Not long after his admission to the bar, Mr Ames 
 was called on to appear in the character of a statesman 
 and a legislator. Having been attentive to the native im- 
 pulses of his own mind, and carefully observant of the 
 drift of his genius, he had now a sufiicient knowledge 
 of his powers to perceive that the senate chambci-, ra- 
 ther than the forum, was to pi'ove eventually the theatre 
 of his renown. Notwithstanding, therefore, the voice of 
 private interest to the contrary — for what honest Ameri- 
 can has ever growii rich in the service of his country?—- 
 so liighly was he enamoured of that reputation and glory 
 which conscious ability whispered was awaiting him, and 
 so ardent was his desire to move for a time in his proper 
 .sphere, that he now, j)crhaps, courted rather than decli- 
 ned the conspicuous walks of public life. Nor do we 
 regard this disposition as amounting to a blemish in his 
 character. On the other hand, we consider it as tanta- 
 mount to a virtue. That great man is so far deficient in 
 greatness, who is not ambitious of his just reward, the 
 gratitude and applause of the virtuous and discerning 
 portion of the world, consequent on the performance of 
 exalted duties. Even Washington himself, that resplen- 
 dent epitome of all that is great and excellent in our 
 nature, was no stranger to the love of renown. 
 
 After having acquired distinction in the discussion 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 and arrangement of certain points of local policy, he was 
 elected a delegate to the convention of the state of Mas- 
 sachusetts, which met in the year 1788 with a view to 
 the ratification of the federal constitution. Here an op- 
 portunity presented itself for making fresh and ample 
 augmentations to his fame. The suljject under consi- 
 deration was eminently momentous. It elevated and ex- 
 panded his views to its own dimensions, and called forth 
 all the fervours of his mind. It "was a decision of the 
 question, whether the United Slates should be blessed 
 with a wise, free, and cflicient government, or exhibit the 
 awful spectacle of a national chaos; a peo|)le passing in 
 convulsions from faction to anarchy, and from thai, per- 
 haps, to the calm of a military flespotism. It was during 
 the session of this convention that he gained such high 
 and well merited eclat, by that beautiful specimen of 
 parliamentary eloquence, his speech on the subject of 
 biennial elections. 
 
 In the first congress under the federal constitution, 
 which met at New York in the year 1789, Mr Ames 
 appeared in the house of representatives, as a member 
 from that district in which was included the city of 
 Boston. During the eight years of the Washington 
 administration, he retained his seat in that august as- 
 sembly :— august let us call it ; lor it was composed of 
 the ablest and most virtuous men of the nation. Rome, 
 in her best days, would have gloried in a senate so en- 
 lightened and dignified ; and the states of Greece would 
 have committed their destinies to a council so pre-emi- 
 nent in patriotism and wisdom. 
 
 This period of eight years, during which Mr Ames 
 held a seat in the legislature of the union, was all-im- 
 portant to the people of America. In the course of it, the 
 most momentous concerns of the nation were discussed 
 and adjusted with that sagacity and discernment, that 
 wisdom and integrity, which their weight and the crisis 
 so pressingly demanded. The complex and mighty ma- 
 chine of a government calculated to maintain its own 
 existence, and to embrace and reconcile the different 
 and clashing interests of an extensive country and a nu- 
 merous, high-spirited and jealous people, was construc- 
 ted and put in motion. In addition to this, successful 
 and satisfactory arrangements Mere made on the score 
 of the most important of our external relations. By a 
 wise and humane system of policy, combining the prin- 
 ciples of justice and force, conciliation and firmness, the 
 friendship of the Indian tribes was secured. With 
 Great Britain and Spain, an honourable adjustment was 
 eflected in relation ta-,all our points of difTerencc. A 
 spring was given to commerce which cariied our flag 
 to every sea, and brought to our shores the products 
 and riches of every climate ; and, by a dignified neutra- 
 lity, the nation ■was preserved from the threatening vor- 
 tex of a foreign alliance. 
 
 In the achievements of wisdom and the duties of pa- 
 triotism, necessarily appertaining to these transactions, 
 Mr Ames held a share that was ample and distinguished. 
 Persevering in his attentions, and faitliful to the trust 
 reposed in him by his constit\icnts, in no instance did he 
 indulge himself in absence from his post. On every 
 question of interest and importance, he took an active 
 and i-esponsiblc part in debate. , His eloquence was al- 
 ways adapted to the occasion — argumentative or impas- 
 sioned, playful or serious, lofty or satirical, according to 
 the subject, and the prevailing temper and disposition 
 of the house. It was rich in every tiling, both as to 
 matter and manner, calculated to delight, impress, and 
 
 hi-
 
 674 
 
 AMES. 
 
 instruct. Although it might not always convince his 
 opponents, it seldom ofibncictl them, and never iailcd to 
 excite their admiration, and command their respect. 
 
 His speech, on the appropriations for carrying into ef- 
 fect the British treaty, was certainly the most august 
 and resplendent c.vhibiLion of his talents; and may al- 
 most be regarded as constituting an epoch in modern 
 eloquence. An English gentleman of distinguished 
 uttainmcnts, who was present on the occasion, frankly 
 acknowledged, that it surpassed, in cfl'ect, any thing he 
 had ever licard in the British parliament. He even 
 preferred it to Sheridan's celebrated speech in the case 
 of Warren Hastings. It had, perhaps, more of the irre- 
 sistible swaj', the soul-subduing influence of ancient 
 elocjuence, than any thing that has be<.n heard since the 
 clays of Cicero. The circumstances attending its deli- 
 very were peculiar. A brief recital of them will not, we 
 flatter ourselves, be deemed tminteresting, or regarded 
 as a departure from the duly of the biographer. 
 
 The debate on the subject of the treaty had been unu- 
 sually protracted. In the course of it great liberties 
 had been taken in the exercise and expression of indi- 
 vidual feelings; and the collision of party politics had 
 been inordinately keen. The public mind, having felt 
 a deep and lively interest in it at first, had become 
 •weary and exhausted by its unexpected length, and 
 was now extremely anxious that it should be brought 
 to a close. The house itself, particularly the great body 
 of the members who had already spoken, gave strong 
 manifestations of the same temper. For several days, 
 the question had been repeatedly called for, by nume- 
 rous voices at once, with a vehemence amounting al- 
 most to disorder. 
 
 During all this time, Mr Ames, in a feeble and shat- 
 tered state of health, and bowed down by a load of lan- 
 guor and despondency, had remained a silent spectator 
 of the conflict. He had even determined not to speak at 
 all, because he felt himself unequal to the exertion, and 
 had, therefore, made no preparatory arrangements. As 
 the moment, however, approached when he was to join 
 in the vote — a vote, on which, in his estimation, de- 
 pended the future prosperity and happiness of his coun- 
 try, his resolution forsook him, and his patriotism tri- 
 umphed over his prudence. From an expectation, on 
 the part of some, that the question would be that day 
 decided, and of others, that, perhaps, Mr Ames would 
 be induced to speak, the lobbies and galleries of the 
 house were ovcrflowingly crowded. The flower of Phi- 
 ladelphia was present on the occasion. 
 
 Under these circumstances, with a pale countenance 
 and a languid air, the orator rose, and, in a voice feeble 
 at the commenc, mcnt. addressed himself to the chair. 
 When he first took the floor, a murmur of approbation 
 escaped from the audience, who, in their keen impa- 
 tience that the debate should be closed, would have been 
 tempted to frown on any other speaker. To this invo- 
 luntary expression of the public satisfaction succeeded 
 the most profound silence, that not a syllable might es- 
 cape unheard. Animated, for the moment, by the work- 
 ings of his mind, and inspired, as it were, by the occa- 
 sion, with a degree of life and strength, to which his 
 frame had long been a stranger, the orator's ardour and 
 energy increased, as he proceeded, his voice acquired 
 a wider compass, and he carried the house triumphantly 
 along with him. Never was man gazed at with more 
 ftedfast attention ; never was he listened to with more 
 ;hrjiling delight. Pale and sickly, as it •was, his coun- 
 
 tenance seemed at times, under the irresistible illusioii 
 of the moment, to be irradiated with more than mor- 
 tal fires, and the intonations of his voice to be marked 
 with more than mortal sweetness. Wc speak leelingly, 
 for we heard him throughout; and never can his image 
 be cfl'aced from our recollection, nor his accents seem to 
 fade on our ear. Even now, after a lapse of nearly six- 
 teen years, his look, his gesture, his attitude — all the 
 orator seems embodied before us, and wc dwell in ima- 
 gination on the sound of his voice with undiminished 
 delight. He addressed himself to every faculty of the 
 mind, and awakened every feeling and emotion ol tlie 
 heart. Argument, remonstrance, entreaty, persuasion, 
 terror, and warning, fell, now like the music, and now- 
 like the thunder of heaven, from his lips. He seemed 
 like Patriotism in human form, eloquently pleading for 
 the salvation of his country. The effect produced re- 
 sembled the fabled workings of enchantment. He threw 
 a spell over the senses, rendering them insensible to 
 every thing but himself. We venture to assert, that 
 while he kept the fl_oor, no person present had the slight- 
 est consciousness of the lapse of time. 
 
 When he resumed his seat, the audience seemed to 
 awake as from a dream of delight. So absorbed were 
 they in admiration — so fascinated and subdued by the 
 charms of his eloquence, that no one had the proper 
 command of his faculties. Conscious of this, a leading 
 member in the opposition moved for an adjournment, 
 that the house might have time to cool, and the vote not 
 be taken under the influence of the overwhelming sen- 
 sibility which the orator had excited. This circumstance 
 was in itself a tribute to the eloquence of Mr Ames far 
 beyond what language can bestow. It was a confession, 
 extorted from a political adversary, that even the spirit 
 of party was vanquished by his powers. 
 
 In the autumn of the same year, the college of Prince- 
 ton, in consideration of his distinguished rank as a scho- 
 lar and a statesman, conferred on Mr Ames the honorary 
 degree of Doctor of Laws. 
 
 His health being somewhat restored by regimen and 
 travel, he was enabled to appear in the national legisla- 
 ture during the v/inter of 1796 — 7, although not to fill 
 up his usual sphere in the duties of the house. Still, 
 however, he was a leading member. The splendour of 
 his former services had thrown around him unfading 
 honours, and given him an ascendency which little else 
 than his presence was requisite to maintain. But even 
 now he was far from being a silent spectator of events. 
 In the debate which ensued on the answer of the house 
 to the president's speech, he vindicated in a strain of 
 the loftiest eloquence, and in a style of eulogy peculiar 
 to himself, the claim of Washington to the unqualified 
 love and gratitude of the nation. 
 
 On the close of this session, which was the last under 
 the auspices of the Washington administration, Mr 
 Arnes, having previously declined standing a candidate, 
 returned to the walks of private life. But it was his 
 body alone that sought repose from public toils. His love 
 of country continuing, as before, his predominant passion, 
 and his mind still delighting to mingle in exercises where 
 the eminent contend, he threw even now a large portion 
 of light into the councils of the nation. Through the me- 
 dium of the public prints, under various signatures, and 
 in a style rich and fascinating, in an, eminent degree, 
 he imparted to his fellow citizens, from his private resi- 
 dence, as exquisite lessons of political wisdom, as had 
 issued from his lips in the house of representatives. For
 
 AMES. 
 
 several years his productions through this channel were 
 
 multifarious and abundant. Althou;;^!! generally written 
 with great rapidity — frequently amidst tlie interruptions 
 of a court-house, or the noise of a public inn, where he 
 only rested for the night, they were always delightful 
 and instructive, breathing the purest sentiments of pa- 
 triotism, and hallowed by a spirit of enlightened philan- 
 thropy. 
 
 Among his compositions, during the period of his 
 retirement, should be particularly noticed his eulogy on 
 Washington, to the delivery of which he was appointed 
 by tiie legislature of Massachusetts, and his masterly 
 sketch or the character of Hamilton. He lived long 
 enough to weep over the ashes, and to celebrate the 
 praises, of these two wonderful statesmen and heroes ; 
 and, perhaps, of all men of the age, he was most worthy 
 of so exalted an honour, because most competent to the 
 task it imposed. His affection for the latter, and his 
 sorrow and regret for his untimely fall, he pours forth in 
 a styleof sensibility and pathos, which nothing can exceed. 
 
 " The tears," says he, " that flow on this fond recital, 
 will never dry up. My heart, penetrated with the re- 
 membrance of the man, grows liquid as I write, and I 
 could pour it out like water. I could weep, too, for my 
 country, which, mournful as it is, does not know the 
 half of its loss. It deeply laments, when it turns its 
 eyes back, and sees what Hamilton wa.s ; but my soul 
 stiffens with despair, when I think what Hamilton would 
 have been. 
 
 " His social affections and his private virtues are not, 
 however, so properly the object of public attention, as 
 the conspicuous and commanding qualities that gave 
 him his fame and influence in the world. It is not as 
 Apollo, enchanting the shepherds with his lyre, that we 
 deplore him ; it is as Hercules, treacherously slain in 
 the midst of his unfinished labours, leaving the world 
 overrun with monsters." 
 
 In the year 1804, Mr Ames was chosen president of 
 Harvard college. To the infinite regret, however, of 
 the institution, the broken and precarious state of his 
 health, conjoined with other considerations, which had 
 no influence on any one but himself, prevented his ac- 
 ceptance of so responsible an office. The proper edu- 
 cation of youth was a subject which always lay near to 
 his heart. He considered it not merely as the princi- 
 pal ornament of the edifice, but as the only durable ce- 
 ment to hold the fabric of a representative government, 
 not to say the very structure of society, together. Con- 
 trary, however, to the sentiments of others, he did not 
 think his habits altogether such as were calculated to fit 
 him for the chief of a college. 
 
 In relation to the closing years of the life of Mr Ames, 
 we find that we cannot do better than to copy the lan- 
 guage of his biographer of Boston, who, as formerly 
 stated, appears to have been in the number of his per- 
 sonal friends. 
 
 " From 1795," says this interesting writer, " his health 
 continued to decline, with partial and flattering inter- 
 missions, till his death. He was a striking example of 
 magnanimity and patience under suffering. Retaining 
 always the vigour and serenity of his mind, he appeared 
 to make those reflections which became his situation." 
 When speaking of his first attack, he observes, " I trust 
 I realize the value of those habits of thinking, which I 
 have cherished for some time. Sickness is not wholly 
 useless to me. It has increased the warmth of my affec- 
 tion to my friends. It has taught me to make haste in 
 
 forming tiie plan of my life, if it should be spared, more 
 for private duties and social enjoyments, and less for 
 the splendid emptiness of public station, than yet 1 
 have done." 
 
 "At length," contuuies his biographer, "after an ex- 
 treme deljiiity for two years, the frame wiiich had so 
 long tottered, was about to fall. With composure and 
 dignity he saw the approach of his dissolution. He hart 
 many reasons for wishing to live. The summons came 
 to demand of liis noon of life- the residue of a day which 
 had been bright and fair; of his love of fame, the relin- 
 (piishment of all that respect and honour, which the 
 world solicited him to receive; of his patriotism, the 
 termination of all his cares and labours for a countr) , 
 which he loved with inextinguishable ardour ; 'li hi.s 
 conjugal afl'ection, a separation from an object inexpres- 
 sibly dear; of his parental tenderness, the surrender f.f 
 his children to the chances and vicissitudes of life with- 
 out his counsel and care. 
 
 " But these views of his condition did not sink his 
 heart, which was sustained by pious confidence and hope. 
 He appeared now what he always was, and rose in vir- 
 tues in proportion to his trial, expressing the tenderest 
 concern for those he should leave, and embracing in his 
 solitude his country and mankind. He cxpiredi on tiic 
 morning of the fourth of July, 1808. When the inteUi- 
 gence reached Boston, a meeting of the citizens was 
 held, with a view to testify their respect for his charac- 
 ter and services. In compliance with their request, his 
 remains were brought to the capitol for interment, at 
 which an eulogy was pronounced by his early friend 
 Mr Dexter, and every mark of respectful notice was 
 paid. 
 
 "P'uneral honours to public characters, being cus- 
 tomary offices of decorum and propriety, are necessarily 
 equivocal testimonies of esteem. But Mr Ames was a 
 private man, who was honoured because he was lament- 
 ed. He was followed to the grave by a longer proces- 
 sion than has, perhaps, appeared on any similar occasion. 
 It was a great assemblage, drawn by gratitude and ad- 
 miration, around the bier of one exalted in their esteem 
 by his pre-eminent gifts, and endeared to their hearts 
 by the surpassing loveliness of his disposition." 
 
 That Mr Ames held a place in the foremost ranks of 
 intellect, and is, in that respect, entitled to a conspicu- 
 ous station in the temple of fame, those who knew him 
 best are most ready to allow. Even his enemies, — if, 
 indeed, he left any behind him, — will not deny, that he 
 was endowed, in an eminent degree, with all tlie powere 
 and qualities of a man of genius. Whatever his imagi- 
 nation conceived and his judgment approved, his fancy 
 decorated in the most vivid colours, and his ardour car- 
 ried home with irresistible effect. 
 
 Although eminent as a jurist, and still more so as a 
 writer, he was most distinguished as a statesman, and 
 an orator. The style of his eloquence was peculiar to 
 himself. We know of no model, either ancient or mo- 
 dern, to which it can, in strict propriety, be compared. 
 Too rich to borrow, and too proud to imitate, he looked into 
 himself, and drew on his own resources for whatever tlic 
 subject and occasion demanded. He sought, indeed, 
 for information from every quarter; through the abun- 
 dant channels of reading and conversation, no less than 
 those of observation and reflection. But when know- 
 ledge once entered his mind, it experienced so many ne.v^ 
 combinations, and underwent such a thorough digestion, 
 as to be completely assimilated to his own genius. Al- 
 4 Q 2
 
 676 
 
 AMES. 
 
 though it cnlcfcd as knowledge tleiived from another, it 
 soon took the cliuraclerof tlie intellect it nourished, and 
 went forth again, when required, to appear m a renovated 
 ajid more radiant foini. Nor was it in respect to its form 
 alone that it sustained a mutation. It was auymented in 
 its Ijulk, and multiplied in its ramifications, like a cion 
 planted in a fertile and well watered soil. In relation to 
 the modes of debate it pursued, and the abundance of in- 
 struments it was in the habit of using, a more pregnant, 
 plastic, and versatile mind perhaps never existed. Na- 
 ture and art were alike tributary to its amazing re- 
 sources. With an ease and velocity which we never, 
 we tiiink, witnessed in any other being, it would bound 
 through the range of space from pole to pole, and from 
 earth to heaven, returning fraught with the choicest 
 lights and happiest allusions, witn all that was rare, and 
 new, and beautiful, as means in illustration of some to- 
 pic of debate. Capable of sporting with the lightest ob- 
 jects and of wielding the mightiest, it passed, with ec|ual 
 familiarity, from the dew-drop to the ocean, and from 
 the whispering of the breeze, to the roar of the ele- 
 ments. As circumstances demanded, its subject ap- 
 peared cither in a dress '■'■ Kiin/i/f.i mundiliis" elegantly 
 simple, or clothed in a style of oriental magnificence. 
 
 In the ditferent views entertained on the subject by 
 difi'ereni individuals, the oratory of Mr Ames has been 
 compared successively to that of most of the distin- 
 guished speakers that have flourished, — to the oratory, 
 in particular, of Burke and Chatham, Cicero and Demos- 
 thenes. He has been even said, to have formed himself on 
 the model of each of these illustrious standards in elo- 
 quence. The criticism is, in both its branches, erroneous. 
 The oratory of IVIr Ames, although equally lofty, was less 
 gorgeous tlian that of Burke, less full and swelling than 
 that of Cicero, and, though somewhat similar in its senten- 
 liousness, energy, and point, less vehement and abrupt 
 than that of Chatham or Demosthenes. In ifnstudied 
 ornament, striking antithesis, fertility of allusion, and 
 novelty of combination, it was certainly far superior to 
 either. Nor is it just to the reputation of Mr Ames, to 
 represent him as an imitator of either British, Roman, 
 or Grecian eloquence. That he was familiar with the 
 best models of the art, both ancient and modern, will 
 not be denied. He studied them, however, not with a 
 view to servile imitation, but merely for the purposes of 
 instruction and improvement; — with the intention, per- 
 haps, of correcting faults, but certainly not of acquiring 
 excellencies. Something negative might have been de- 
 rived from them ; but every thing positive originated 
 in himself. After collecting the best lights that exten- 
 sive reading and inquiry could bestow, he retired with- 
 in himself, and followed the bent of his own genius. 
 
 In the various exterior qualifications of the orator, Mr 
 Ames, though not perfect, was certainly accomplished. 
 His figure, somewhat above the common size, was well 
 proportioned, erect, and manly. His countenance, al- 
 though not marked by the strongest lines, or the boldest 
 features, was lively and intelligent, susceptible of great 
 animation and variety of expression, when thoroughly 
 warmed and illumined by debate. His voice was clear, 
 distinct, and melodious, of sufficient compass to fill the 
 largest of our public buildings, and capable o! great va- 
 riety in its intonations. His action, although not, per- 
 haps, varied to the extent that was allowable and even 
 desirable, was easy, graceful, and appropriate ; and, in 
 
 his more lofty and impassioned flights, became some- 
 times dignified, bold, and commandhig. Witliout ever 
 descending to what might be denominated the stratagems 
 ol oratory, he, notwithstanding, practised that C-immand 
 oi temper, and never failed in the observance of that re- 
 gard to the feelings and disposition oi the house, which 
 are such powerful auxiliaries to argument and persua- 
 sion. 
 
 In endeavouring to give a view of the genius of Mr 
 Ames, it is proper to observe, that his imagination was 
 the master faculty of his mind. Original, lofty, prolific, 
 and inventive, yet, at the same time, inimitably sportive 
 and gay, it was capable of every variety ol exertion. It 
 could mount, with the eagle, through tempests and 
 storms, skim, with the swallow, along the surface of the 
 pool, or, like our own sylph-winged Trochilus,* play- 
 luUy dart lro:n flower to flower, robbing each of its 
 sweets, or plucking the lairest and weaving them into 
 festoons of the choicest imagery. It was in his hours 
 of relaxation and social intercourse, that these latter 
 qualities of his imagination were displayed with a feli- 
 city that never was surpassed. It has been remarked, 
 that those individuals most celebrated for their oratorical, 
 are not generally distinguished, in an equal degree, for 
 their colloquial, talents. With him, however, the case 
 was different. His powers in conversation were even 
 pai-amoiint, in their kind, to his eminence in debate. It 
 was within the circle of private friendship that he might 
 be said to feel the influence of a peculiar inspiration. 
 On these occasions, his mind never laboured, nor ap- 
 peared to be sensible of its own exertions. Every 
 thing came to it spontaneously and unsought for. Yer 
 did it furnish forth such a rich and gorgeous intellec- 
 tual banquet, — the fruits of judgment, the stores of me- 
 mory, and the decorations of fancy, delightfully arranged 
 by the hand of taste, while the champaign of wit was 
 brilliantly foaming around the board, — that the scene 
 was heightened almost to enchantment. 
 
 Criticism has not yet settled the rank and character 
 of Mr Ames as a writer. Nor, were we otherwise quali- 
 fied for it, would either our functions or the limits of 
 this article permit us, at present, to engage in the task. 
 That he possessed, in an ample degree, the power to 
 instruct by the variety and excellence of his matter, to 
 surprise by the novelty of his combinations, and to de- 
 light by the beauties of his style, no one who has read 
 his productions will deny. Notwithstanding this, we 
 do not feel authorized to place his works in the highest 
 order of prose composition. This, however, was the 
 result of inauspicious circumstances, rather than of any 
 deficiency in the powers of the writer. Excellency in 
 composition is not attainable by a hasty effort. It is as 
 much the work of time and the offspring of labour, as a 
 highly finished painting, or an exquisite piece of sculp- 
 ture. The first draught of an essay, however masterly 
 the hand that executes it, is always, in some of its quali- 
 ties, imperfect. That writer who does not carefully re- 
 view the labours of his pen, will never rise to eminence 
 in his profession. Even the productions of the great 
 Johnson that were written in haste, and hurried to the 
 press without correction, can be easily distinguished 
 from those that received a careful revisal. 
 
 Hence arose the principal imperfections, in point of 
 composition, that appear in the works of Mr Ames. 
 They were hastily written, and seldom revised. Still, 
 
 • The humming bird.
 
 AMI[ 
 
 AiMH 
 
 677 
 
 however, they constitute a splendid and duriiblc monu- 
 meni oi ais talents and research. They are an impor- 
 tant adciiiion, not only to the science oi [joiilics, but to 
 E:uj;li.-h literature. We firmly believe, tuat lew, if any 
 men living could have written so rapidly, witli so little 
 preparatio[i, and, at the same time, so well. They are 
 animated, sententious, lull ol ornament, and clothed in a 
 style more chaste and classical, tlian tlie circumstances 
 under which they were composed would warrant us to ex- 
 pect. If they are not equal to the writings of Burke, 
 whose compositions, perhaps, they most resemble (and 
 we cannot admit that the inferiority is striking) it is 
 only because they were hastier productions. More 
 devoted to his country's welfare than to his own glory, 
 their author hurried them rapidly from his pen, and as 
 rapidly through the press, anxious only thai they siiould 
 be clearly understood, and the truths they contain be 
 duly appreciated. 
 
 That in the attributes appertaining to mere elocution, 
 Mr Ames was the most distinguished speaker of his 
 time, all men of all parties readily acknowledged. His 
 political opponents, however, that they might not resign 
 to him the palm in every thing, but, by endeavouring to 
 make his defects a counterpoise to his excellencies, lop 
 his reputation to their own standard, asserted that both 
 his speeches and writings were wanting in depth and 
 soundness of thought — that they were more brilliant and 
 touching, than solid and instructive, and, therefore, much 
 better calculated to dazzle the imagination and subdue the 
 heart, than to inform the judgment or convince the under- 
 standing. They charged him with substituting declama- 
 tion for argument, the pomp of imagery for the severity of 
 logic, and pronounced him deficient in political sagacity 
 and wisdom. Of tliis calumny, as illiberal as it was un- 
 founded, his works are themselves an ample refutation. 
 They demonstrate, in a manner the most clear and for- 
 cible, that his discernment and sagacity were equally 
 pre-eminent with his powers of elocution — that, on many 
 points, his political wisdom amounted almost to the 
 light of prophecy. We venture to assert that no man of 
 the age has surpassed — in our opinion none has equalled 
 him, in the almost divine attribute of predicting the oc- 
 currence of future events. Not to mention his foresight 
 in relation to the affairs of our own country, his writings 
 are a chart of the progress of those changes that subse- 
 quently occurred on the continent of Europe. Deeply read 
 
 in history, which furnishes the best clew to the intricate 
 mazes of the human heart, and is itself piiilosophy teach- 
 ing by example the conse(|UeMces atlendaiu on the ope- 
 ration of certam principles and measures, he hud learned 
 to Ibretel the future from tlie past. 
 
 The principal fault in the writings of Mr Ames is 
 itself an evidence of the richness and extern of his in- 
 tellectual resources. It is a superabundance of meta- 
 phor, an excess of imagery, which sometimes diverts 
 the attention from substance to ornament, and thereby 
 weakens the efl'ect of the sentiment which it adorns. In 
 this respect, although he excites our admiration, and 
 even moves our wonder, he holds out an example which 
 sound criticism forbids us to imitate. Had he lived U> 
 revise his writings during hours of leisure, when the 
 glow of original composition had subsided, he woidd 
 have primed them of this cumbersome load of ornament. 
 In such an event, but little would have been wanting to 
 render them perfect. They would have borne a proud 
 comparison with the best writings that Europe has pro- 
 duced. 
 
 In private and domestic life, Mr Ames was peculiarly 
 amiable. His temper was mild, his heart benevolent, his 
 disposition open and generous, and his afJections warm. 
 Participating of the frailties incident to our nature, he. 
 was not perfect. His faults, however, were so few and 
 inconsiderable, so lost in the lustre of his excellencies 
 and virtues, that, without being chargeable with a spi- 
 rit of partiality, we may be suffered to commit them 
 unrevealed to the same shrine that encloses his ashes. 
 He preserved throughout every station which it was his 
 fortune to fill, and every scene in which he bore a part, a 
 reputation of the highest moral standard — unsullied and 
 unsuspected. 
 
 His death, which occurred in the fifty-first year of his 
 age, bespoke the conscious purity and rectitude of his 
 life. It celebrated his praises in a style of panegyric 
 which the language of the eulogist would emulate in 
 vain. He was sustained and comforted, in his last mo- 
 ments, by those cheering hopes and beatific expectations 
 which constitute the rich inheritance of the Christian. 
 
 It would be unjust in us to close this article without 
 acknowledging the obligations we have been repeatedly 
 under, in the course of it, to the author, whoever he 
 may be, of the excellent biographical notice of Mr 
 Ames, which is prefixed to his works. Caldwell. 
 
 AMETHYST, a subspecies of the quartz species. 
 See OuYCTOGNosY. (;■) 
 
 AMETHYSTE.\, a genus of plants of the class Dian- 
 dria, and order Monogynia. See Botany, (tu) 
 
 AMHARA, a district of Abyssinia; which is bounded 
 by Begcmder on the north, Walaka and Marrabet on 
 the south, Angot on the east, and on the west by the 
 Aljay, or Abyssinian Nile. This district, which is situ- 
 ated almost in the centre of Abyssinia, extends about 
 120 miles from east to west, while its breadth docs not 
 much exceed 40. It is a very mountainous country, and 
 derives particular celebrity from the high mountain of 
 Gcshen, or the grassy mountain, where tlie royal family 
 used to be imprisoned, till they were surprised and 
 murdered there in the Adelan war. 
 
 Amhara is the residence of many of the nobility, and 
 
 gives language, manners, and customs, to the modern 
 Abyssinians. But though the Amharic has become 
 the court language, and though seven new characters 
 were adopted to facilitate its pronunciaiion, the Geez, 
 or Ethiopic, still retains its original dignity. In the 
 Geez alone all the books of the Abyssinians are writ- 
 ten ; and so sacred is it held, that there is a law in the 
 country, which, though transmitted only by tradition, 
 has been inviolably preserved, that if any one should 
 attempt to translate the Scriptures into Amiiaric, or any 
 other language, his throat should be cut after the man- 
 ner of sheep, his family made slaves, and his house 
 razed to the ground. In this province were situated, 
 Mecanar Selasse, Jedbaba IMariam, Ganeta Gcorgis, 
 and Atronso Mariam, four of the most wealthy and 
 celebrated churches in Ethiopia. These churches were
 
 6/8 
 
 AMH 
 
 A3IH 
 
 the pihicipal objects of royal bounty during the reigns 
 of Zura Jacob and hit. successors, till they were laid 
 waste in the calamitous war of Gragne, wliich began 
 when the Portuguese embassy left the country, A. D. 
 1526. (/.-) 
 
 AMHERST, Jeffehy, Lokd, an associalc in arms 
 with general Wolfe, was born at Riverhead, in Kent, 
 England, on the 29th of January, 1717. As the estate 
 of his father, who resided at Kent, was to devolve on his 
 elder bro.ther Sackville, Jeft'ery, the second son, who 
 possessed a strong predilection for a military life, re- 
 solved to dedicate himself to the profession of arms. 
 He accordingly, when only about !'!■ years old, accepted 
 a commission as ensign of the guards, and entered into 
 the service of his country. In 17-tl, he became aid-de- 
 camp to the then general, afterwards lord Ligonier. In 
 this capacity he accompanied that officer into Germany, 
 at the memorable battles of Roucox, Dettingen, and 
 Fontenoy. His meritorious exertions now rendered 
 hhn so conspicuous, that he was admitted on the staff 
 of his royal highness the duke of Cumberland, and was 
 present at the engagentents of Laffeld and Hastenbeck. 
 At the commencement of the difficulties with Great 
 Britain and France in 1757, it being determined to make 
 tlie French possessions, in America, the principal seat of 
 warfare, Amherst who had attained to the rank of colonel 
 received orders to return to England, was created ma- 
 jor general, and, with the illustrious Wolfe, was appointed 
 tor the American service. He departed from Plymouth, 
 March 16th 1758. As the reduction of Louisbourg, the 
 capital of the island of Breton was now meditated, he 
 embarked the troops, which he brought out with him, 
 at Halifax, on the 28th of May, and sailed for Louisbourg 
 with the English squadron, consisting of twenty one line 
 of battle ships and twenty frigates, under the command 
 of admiral Boscawen. It is unnecessary here to enume- 
 rate the various plans and operations of the several com- 
 manders on this occasion, or particularly to notice the 
 military exploits and prudence of Amherst, and the ex- 
 traordinary exertions of the distinguished Wolfe. The 
 town of Louisbourg, though so strongly fortified as to 
 be deemed almost impregnable, was at length taken on 
 the 26th of July, and with but little farther difficulty the 
 whole island of Cape Breton, at the expense of about 400 
 men killed and wounded. 
 
 General Amherst was soon honoured with the re- 
 ward due to his success ; and in the ensuing September 
 was appointed commander in chief of all the forces in 
 North AiTierica, in the place of general Abercrombie, 
 whose attack and retreat at Ticonderoga, became the 
 topic of severe animadversion and the primary cause oi 
 his removal. In the following year was formed the 
 great design of attacking, as nearly at the same time as 
 practicable. Crown Point, Niagara, Quebec, and the 
 forts south of lake George ; that by thus distracting and 
 wearying the enemy, all Canada might be taken at one 
 campaign. The several armies were commanded by 
 Amherst, Wolfe, and Prideaux. Amherst at the head of 
 1 2,000 troops and provincials was to penetrate into the 
 interior, by the lakes, make himself master of Ticonde- 
 roga and Crown Point ; establish a naval force in lake 
 Champlain, descend by means of the Sorril into tlie St 
 Lawrence, and in conjunction with Wolfe and Prideaux, 
 lay siege to Quebec. The army under the command of 
 general Amherst was the first in motion, and arrived on 
 
 AMIA. See Ic«thyolooy. 
 
 AMIANTH, or Amianthus, a subspecies of the ai- 
 best family. Soc Oryctogncsy. (r) 
 
 AMICABLE Numbers. Two numbers are said to 
 be amicalilc, when the sum of the aliquot parts of each 
 number is C([ual to the other. The subject of amicable 
 numbers was first treated of by Ciristopiier Rudolphas 
 and Descartes, but more fully by Francis Schoolen, in 
 
 the 24th of July before Ticonderoga, the fortifications 
 of which place, the enemy, after ha\ i;,;^ .learly destroyed, 
 had abandoned. Amherst immediately sec about re- 
 pairing the works of this important post, v/hiie scouting 
 parties were sent in the neighbourhood of Crown Point 
 in order to watch the movements of the enemy. He 
 soon learned that the French, considering that place un- 
 tenable had departed, and instantly prepared to fortify 
 it. Niagara, having at the same time surrendered to the 
 troops and provincials of Sir William Johnson, every 
 prospect of success was now held out. But it was still 
 necessary to overcome the French flotilla on lake Cham- 
 plain, and the garrison at Isle Aux Noux was to be re- 
 duced. The preparations for these purposes were 
 scarcely made ready when the sudden apd unexpected 
 approach of cold weather, frustrated his present expec- 
 tations, and ultimately obliged him to desist from his 
 formidable enterprize. 
 
 It was therefore determined to return to Crown Point, 
 and early in the spring to complete the original plan. In • 
 the mean time, Wolfe had appeared before Quebec, and 
 although unsupported by the main army under Amherst, 
 and in defiance of numerous and unforeseen difficulties, 
 achieved by means of a mere detachment what had 
 been the chief object of the expedition. On the 8th of 
 September, M. De Vaudreuil capitulated, surrendering 
 Montreal, and all other places within the government of 
 Canada. 
 
 General Amherst remained in America until the lat- 
 ter part of 1763, when he returned home. During the 
 administration of Mr Pitt, he received every reward that 
 his great services merited. In 1771, he was appointed 
 governor of the island of Guernsey; in 1776 he was 
 created baron Amherst of Holmsdale, in the county of 
 Kent, and in 1778 appointed commander in chief of the 
 army of England. Upon a change of the ministry, how- 
 ever, the command of the army and the lieutenant gene- 
 ralship of the ordnance were put into other hands; but 
 in consequence of the re-establishment of the staff, he 
 was once more appointed commander in chief, in Ja- 
 nuary, 1793. It being at length determined to confide 
 the command to the duke of York, a resignation on the 
 part of his lordship was expected : he had the offer of 
 an earl's coronet on this occasion, which he declined, 
 but in July, 1796, accepted the rank of field marshal. 
 He now returned to his seat in Kent, where he died, on 
 the 3d of August, 1797, in the 81st year of his age. 
 From the preceding sketch of lord Amherst, the princi- 
 pal traits in his character may be easily distinguished. 
 To employ the words of an officer, who long served un- 
 der him, Alexander Hosack, Esq. "To the arts, talents, 
 and military skill of an able soldier, he united all the 
 prudence, sagacity, and management which his impor- 
 tant station as commander of a numerous army, in the 
 midst of the most trying occasions, seemed to require." 
 iryriJie's British America, vol. ii. Minot's Hist. Hosack 
 and Fra.vcis.
 
 AMI 
 
 A3LM 
 
 67i> 
 
 the 9th section of his Scctiones Miscellans, published in 
 his Jixercitati07ies Mathematics. 
 
 Ill order to investigate the amicable numbers, let 4a7 
 be one of the numbers, and 4;/; the other; then, since 
 the aliquot parts of 4.r are 1, 2, 4, x^ 2x, we have, by 
 the definition of amicable numbers, 
 
 l+2 + 4+j;+2x=4y2 
 or 7-f3ar=4yr 
 
 \ijz—7 
 
 Hence 
 
 and multiplying by 4.4:c^ 
 
 16i/r — 28 
 
 Since the aliquot parts of ^xjz are 1, 2, 4, y, 2y, iy, 
 2z, 4r, 2yz, we have by the definition 
 
 4x=.\+2 + 4: + y+2y+i.y + z + 2z + 4z+yz + 2yz 
 
 and by substitution and addition 
 
 16«z — 28 
 
 -^ =7 + 7y+7z + 3yz 
 
 which, after deduction, gives 
 
 3^+7 „ J 16 
 
 _ 3y+7 _„ 16 
 y+3 ''"^w— 3 
 By assuming !/=5, a prime number, we shall have 
 2=3+^ — ;;=" another prime, and from a preceding 
 
 5 — 3 
 
 4x5x11—7 
 
 equation, we have jr= ^j =71, a third prime 
 
 3 
 number. Hence 4a:=284, and 4i/r=220, are the ami- 
 cable numbers required; for the aliquot parts l+2-|-4 
 + 5 + 10+11+20 + 22+44 + 55 + 110=284, and 1+2 = 
 + 4 + 71 + 142=220. 
 
 By putting Syr, and 16j: 16!/r, and ISS.r: 1281/r, neces- 
 sarily for the amicable numbers, we shall find, by a 
 similar mode of investigation, that 18,416, and 17,296, 
 are amicable numbers, and also 9,437,056,9,363,584. 
 
 From these investigations, we obtain the following 
 rule, which Schoolen received from Descartes. AKsutne 
 the number 2, or any /lower of 2, such., that if 1 be sub- 
 tracted from thrice the assumed ?2umber, from six times 
 thai number, or from 18 times its square, the three remain- 
 ders shall be firime numbers. Multifily this last firime 
 number by double the 7iumber assumed, and the product 
 will be one of the amicable numbers, the sum of whose 
 aliijuot fiarts will give the other. Thus, for example, 
 assume the number 2, and 5 will be the first prime 
 number, 11 the second, and 71 the third : The first of 
 these being multiplied by 4, the double of the assumed 
 number gives 284 for one of the amicable numbers. 
 The other amicable number, 220, is found by adding 
 the aliquot part of 284. The properties of amicable 
 immbers have been recently investigated by Mr John 
 Gough. See Leybourn's Mathematical Refiository, No. 
 7. N. S. io) 
 
 AMID-AMID, a ridge of mountains in Abyssinia, 
 supposed by some to be the Montes Lutix of the an- 
 cients. The discoveries of Browne, however, have 
 proved this opinion erroneous. A particular account 
 of them will be found in Brace's Travels, vol. iii. p. 
 583. (to) 
 
 AMIDA. See Diarbekir. 
 
 AMIENS, the Samara Briva of the ancients, is the 
 
 capital of the department of the Somme," and is situated 
 in the river Sonune, which traverses the city in three 
 superb branches. In the year 1597, Amiens surrendered 
 to the Spaniards, in eonsccjuence of a remarkal)le 
 stratagem. A riumber of soldiers, in the gaib of pea- 
 sants were sent to the town by the gcnernor of Douileiis, 
 with a cart-load of nuts. As soon as the gates were 
 opened, the nuts were allowed to fall from the cart, and, 
 while the soldiers of the garrison were eagerly gather- 
 ing up the nuts, the disguised Spaniards entered tiic 
 city, and, being followed by other troops, they soon 
 made themselves masters of the place. With the assis- 
 tance of the Englisli, however, under general Biron, tlie 
 city was soon after besieged and retaken by the Trench. 
 Amiens has likewise been distinguished by the treaty of 
 peace which was negociated therein 1802 between En- 
 gland and France. 
 
 The town of Amiens is defended by a citadel and 
 ramparts, and is decorated by an elegant Ciothic ca- 
 thedral, which excites universal admiration. The houses 
 arc well built, though in the old fashion. The streets 
 are spacious, and the squares and public buildings arc 
 numerous and elegant. The river Sonime is navigable 
 to the town. Population 40,289. E. Long. 2° 17' 56". N 
 Lat. 49° 53' 38". {w) 
 
 AMILCAR. See Hamilcar. 
 
 AMIRANTE Islands. Sec Almirante. 
 
 AMLWCH, a considerable sea-port town in the hun- 
 dred of Twreelyn, and island of Anglesey. About the 
 middle of the last century, Amlwch was only a small 
 fishing village of about six houses ; but since the year 
 1768, when the Paris copper mines were opened in its 
 neighbourhood, both the trade and population of the 
 town have increased with astonishing rapidity. The 
 harbour, which is dry at low water, was excavated out 
 of the solid rock at the expense of the Anglesey Copper 
 Companies, and is capable of containing 30 vessels of 
 200 tons burden. Population in 1801, 4977 ; of which 
 2592 are females, and 1581 are employed in trade and 
 manufacture. Houses 1025. W. Long. 4° 25' 5/'. N. Lat. 
 53° 25'. (o) 
 
 AMMANI A, a genus of plants of the class Tetrandria, 
 and order Monogynia. See Botany, {w) 
 
 AMMI, a genus of plants of the class Pentandria, and 
 order Digynia. [iv) 
 
 AMMIaNUS MARCELLiNUS,a valuable Roman his- 
 torian. He entered early into the military profession : 
 he attached himself to Ursicinus, master of the horse to 
 Constantius, and accompanied him, about 370, in several 
 expeditions to the East. On these occasions, he ren- 
 dered some essential services to his patron, having dis- 
 tinguished himself both as a gallant soldier and a skil- 
 ful negociator; thus bringing into union qualities which 
 are not always found combined. He afterwards accom- 
 panied Julian, who is his favourite hero, in his exi>edi- 
 tion against the Persians. He remained at Antioch, his 
 native city, during the reign of Valens ; and afterwards 
 removed to Rome, where he composed his history. 
 This work consisted originally of thirty-one books, and 
 embraced a period extending from the reign of Nerva 
 to the death of Valens. The first thirteen books are 
 lost; the eighteen which remain, are more distinguished 
 for candour and impartiality, than for elegance of com- 
 
 * Before the French revolution it was the capital of 
 the province of Picardy- Duponceav-
 
 6 80 
 
 AMiM 
 
 AMU 
 
 position. His latiiiity is rough and unpolished, though, 
 ill this respect, lie is, perhaps, little behind the other 
 writers of the age in which he lived ; and it must be re- 
 membered, that though he writes in Latin, he was 
 originally a Greek, and on that account, perhaps, was 
 unable to reach the elegancies of that language which 
 he adopted. He is fond of showing that he was a Greek: 
 thus in the 22d book of his history, he says, eur,6r,\i, Grxci 
 dicimus utiiltum : and in the 2od, Irctnsirr, ^ihSccimuv, di- 
 cinnis Giwci. It is evident from his writings that he 
 was a pagan ; yet he praises the Christians with such 
 impartiality, whenever they appear to deserve it, and 
 bears such honourable testimony to the purity of Chris- 
 tian morality, that some have even imagined that he 
 was a Christian: thus, lib. xxil. c. 11. speaking of the 
 Christian martyrs, he says. Qui dcx'iare a rcligiunc com- 
 pulsi {lurtidcrc cruciabilcs fia/ias, adimque gloriosam mor- 
 tem cjilcmtrala fide progrcssi ; and a.little before, talk- 
 ing of one of the degenerate Christian bishops, he thus 
 characterizes him, Professi'mis sua oblitus, qux nil nisi 
 justum suadct et lene., ad delatorum auna feraliu dcscisce- 
 bat. (.?) 
 
 AMMIRATO Scirio, surnamcd the Elder, a cele- 
 brated historian, was born at Lecca, in the kingdom of 
 Naples, on tlie STth September 1531, of a noble family. 
 At the age of 16, he was sent to Naples to study law, 
 for the profession of which his father had destined him ; 
 but Ammirato, instead of fulfilling these intentions, de- 
 voted all his time to poetry and the belles iettres, and 
 spent the greater part of his money in regaling those 
 juvenile friends who discovered a taste congenial to his 
 own. Being compelled by bad health to return home, 
 he soon betrayed to his father how much his legal 
 studies had been disregarded, and was sent back to 
 Naples, with the severest threats, unless his future ap- 
 plication should atone for his past negligence. He be- 
 came, however, more and more enamoured of his fa- 
 vourite pursuits, in which he attained such distinguished 
 eminence, as to gain many admirers, and not a few ene- 
 mies. The latter having industriously circulated, though 
 it would appear falsely, a report of his being the au- 
 thor of a poem, in which some considerable noblemen 
 were severely satirized, Ammirato judged it prudent to 
 conceal himself from their revenge, which, in these rude 
 times, would probably have been fatal. His father re- 
 fused him all supplies, and he was finally compelled to 
 take orders as an ecclesiastic, chiefly through the advice 
 of Martelli, bishop of Lecca, who also procured for hini 
 a canonry in that diocese. After being engaged in 
 various employments, he contracted an intimacy with 
 Alexander Contarini, who received him into his house 
 at Venice, where nothing seemed wanting to his hap- 
 piness; but the jealousy of the husband, and the impru- 
 dent civility of his wife to Ammirato, for it does not 
 appear that she had been really criminal, forced him 
 from this asylum. 
 
 He entered soon after into the service of Pope Pius 
 IV. who appeared strongly disposed to befriend him ; 
 but, in a short time, Ammirato quarrelled with Catharine, 
 the younger sister of that pontiff", and was under the 
 necessity of returning to his father, who received him 
 with the bitterest reproaches. He now attempted to 
 reconcile himself to an ecclesiastical life, and entered 
 upon the zealous discharge of the duties of his canonry. 
 His tranquillity lasted four years ; during which he 
 founded the academy of Transformati, among whom he 
 was distinguished by the name of Froteus ; a name, 
 
 perhaps, which was accurately descriptive of his real 
 character. He appears, at last, to have tired of this way 
 of life ; as we find him afterwards studying the law at 
 Naples with great assiduiiy ; but it would be tedious to 
 follow him through all the changes of his fortuhc. His 
 irritable and discontented mhid never permitted him to 
 remain long in any situation, however advantageous. 
 In 1570, he was invited to Florence, the grand asylum 
 of learned men in that period. He was employtci by 
 Cosmo I. to write the Florentine history ; liad apart- 
 ments assigned him in the palace ; in 1595 he was made 
 a canon in the cathedral of Florence, and experienced 
 many other proofs of the liberality of that illustrious 
 prince. We find him, however, in his letters, indulg- 
 ing in the bitterest complaints of poverty and neglect. 
 That these complaints were in a great measure without 
 foundation, may be reasonably presumed, from his con- 
 tinuing at Florence for the remaining 30 years of his 
 life, in spite of many pressing solicitations to return to 
 his native country. He died in 1601, after making a 
 will, in which he appointed Christopher del Bianco, the 
 assistant of his studies, his heir, on condition of his 
 assuming the name of Scipio Ammirato the Younger ; 
 and under this name he is known as the author of some 
 considerable works. 
 
 The principal works of Ammirato the elder, are. 
 
 1. .irgumcnls in Verse to the Cantos of Orlando Fuhoso ; 
 
 2. Discourses on Tacitus; 3. Orations to several Princes 
 respecting their fircfiarations against Turkey; 4. Genea- 
 logical and Historical Accounts of many of the principal 
 Paniilirs of .Xaples and Florence ; 5. Ploreiitine History ; 
 the first part of which, consisting of twenty books, was 
 published in 1600; the second part, consisting of fifteen 
 books, was published by the younger Ammirato, in 
 1641. It contains the history of Florence, from its foun- 
 dation to the year 1574, and is yalitable for its accuracy 
 and learning, as well as admired for its elegance; 6. 
 Several poetical works, which are now neglected. («) 
 
 AMMON, or Hammon-, in Mythology, the name of 
 the Egyptian Jupiter. The Greeks give the following 
 account of the origin of the name. Bacchvis, they tell 
 us, leading his army through the desarts of Assyria, 
 was on the point of perishing with thirst, when his 
 father, Jupiter, appeared in the shape of a ram, and 
 conducted him and his army to a spot, where they were 
 abundantly supplied with water. Out of gratitude for 
 this kindness, Bacchus built a temple on the spot, and 
 dedicated it to Jupiter Jmmon, so called from «.«.,tM5, 
 sand, because he had relieved his son in the sandy 
 desart. 
 
 This etymology, like most others of Grecian manu- 
 facture, we may safely pronounce to be nonsense, and 
 the story on which it is built to be an absurd fable. He- 
 rodotus says expressly, Afi,u.oisv Aiyvrrtm xxMai-i tov Aia, 
 the Egyptians call Jupiter Ammon ; it was therefore 
 absurd to seek for a Grecian etymology of an Egyptian 
 word. Jupiter Amml)n was generally worshipped under 
 the figure of a ram; although, if we may believe Cur- 
 tius, 1. iv. c. 7. the image in the famous temple, which 
 Alexander visited, was of a very different shape. Id 
 (juod pro deo colitxr, non eandem habet effigiem, quant 
 viUi^o Diis artifices accommodaverunt : umbilico maxime 
 siinilis est. 
 
 That Jupiter Amnion was the same with Ham the 
 son of Noah, is almost demonstrable. It is known to 
 every Hebrew scholar, that on Ham signifies to be hot, 
 or warm ; Zfv;, the Greek name of Jupiter, has the
 
 A301 
 
 AMM 
 
 681 
 
 same signification, being derived from <^iu,fcrvco. Hum 
 was the youngest son ol Noah, Jupiter was the youngest 
 son of Saturn. Ham is said to liave seen the uakechiess 
 of liis laliier, and to have luld his brethren. Tliis, with- 
 out all doubt, gave rise to the story of Jupiter eniaseu- 
 latmg Saturn. This story, indeed, appears to have 
 been not so much a fiction, as 1.0 have arisen from a 
 mistranslation: lor it is very remarkable, that the He- 
 brew word, which is translated told., as above, signifii-s, 
 when derived from a dift'creat root, ahucidil, cut olf. 
 Egypt is called, in Hebrew, Mizraiin, from Mizraim, 
 the son of Ham; and Plutarch, iti Isidi; informs us, that 
 it was called Chemia, evidently from Ham, or Cham: 
 From this, it is evident, that Ham, or his son Mizraim, 
 peopled Egypt; and we need not be surprised, that a 
 people so prone to idolatry as the Egyptians always were, 
 should have deified the founder of their race. From 
 Egypt, the worship of Amnion, or Ham, passed into 
 Greece, where he was known by the name of Zev;, or 
 Jupiter. Hence 
 
 Pindar. lyth. Ode iv. v. 28. Schol. (g) 
 
 AMMONIA, is the name given in the modern che- 
 mical nomenclature to the substance known to the older 
 chemists by that of volatile alkali ; a substance distin- ' 
 guished from the fixed alkalis, as they are termed, by 
 its comparative volatility, which is such, that, at com- 
 mon temperatures, it can be retained in the liquid state 
 only by combination with water.* This substance, from 
 the analytic experiments of BerthoUet, and the synthetic 
 experiments of Austin, was regarded as a binary com- 
 pound of hydrogen and nitrogen. Mr Davy, however, 
 having, from his late splendid discoveries, effected by 
 the agency of galvanism, found that oxygen enters into 
 the composition of the fixed alkalis; supposed that it 
 perhaps exists also as an element of ammonia, and had 
 escaped observation from the difficulties of the analysis. 
 This conjecture he has confirmed by experiment; and 
 has found, that the proportion of it in ammonia cannot 
 be estimated at less than 7 or 8 parts in the hundred ; a 
 discovery interesting not only with regard to the compo- 
 sition of ammonia, but as establishing the general con- 
 clusion, that oxygen is the principle of alkalinity, as well 
 as of acidity. 
 
 The farther chemical histoiy of this substance must 
 be referred to the article Chemistry. See Alkali, [b) 
 
 AMMONIAC. This substance is a gum resin, ob- 
 tained fi'om a plant of the genus ferula. Dioscorides 
 says, it is the juice of a kind oifertda, growing in Bar- 
 bary, and that the plant which produces if was called 
 agasyllis. Pliny calls the plant, whence it flows, jneto- 
 peon; and says, the gum took its name from the temple 
 of Jupiter jimmon, in the western part of Egypt, now 
 the kingdom of Barca, near which it was said to grow. 
 Olivier, after a careful examination of the seeds of this 
 ferula, which he had an opportunity of seeing in Persia, 
 is of opinion, that it is a new species. It grows to the 
 eastward of the Caspian Sea, among the mountains in 
 the vicinity of Samarcand and Bokara ; but it appears 
 
 * The older chemists were unacquainted with the 
 substance now called ammonia. That which they knew, 
 was the carbonate of ammonia, or the com. of ammonia 
 and carbonic acid. Coxe. 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 also to grow in Africa; for the gum which it produces is 
 exported in considerable quantities from Alexandiia in 
 Egypt. It is also brought from the East Indies. It 
 occurs in small pieces, which arc agglutinated together; 
 internally it has a while, and externally a yellowish co- 
 lour. Us specific gravity is 1,207. Its smell is some- 
 what like tliat of galbanum, but more agreeable, ll.s 
 taste is a nauseous sweet, mixed with bitter. It does 
 not melt. Water dissolves a portion of it; the solution 
 is milky, but gradually lets fall a resinous portion. One 
 half is soluble in spirit of wine. It is somble in alkalis. 
 It is much to be regretted, that we have no accurate 
 descriptions of the different gums, gum-resins, Sec. We 
 would recommend to chemists, and writers on the mate- 
 ria medxa, the adoption of a language similar to that in- 
 vented by Werner for minerals, in their descriptions of 
 the difierent natural and artificial productions, which are 
 the objects of their inquiries. 
 
 Some assert, that this gum was used by the ancients 
 for incense in their sacrifices. It enters as a compo- 
 nent part into several medicinal compositions; of which 
 an account will be given in the article Materia Medi- 
 CA. (r) 
 
 AMMONITES, or Cornu Ammonis, a genus of uni- 
 valve shell, hitherto found either in a state of petrifac- 
 tion, or, when unchanged, inclosed in strata of particu- 
 lar kinds. It appears to be one of the numerous genera 
 of animals that no longer exist on the surface of the earth. 
 The proofs of this opinion, and an account of the zoolo- 
 gical and geognostical relations of this very interest- 
 ing genus, will be given under the article Petrifac- 
 tion. (?•) 
 
 AMMONITES, a people of Ccelo-Syria, who were 
 descended from Ammon, or Ben-Ammi, the son of Lot, 
 (Gen. xix. 38; Jos. jintic/. 1. i. c. 11.) They attacked a 
 gigantic tribe, called Zanzummim,or Zuzim, who dwelt 
 in the mountainous part of Gilcad, and took possession 
 of their country in the year before Christ 1451. The 
 Israelites were expressly forbidden to distress the chil- 
 dren of Ammon, or to encroach upon their territory, 
 (Deut. xii. 19.) The Ammonites, however, frequently 
 united with their neighbours, the Moabites, in harassing 
 the children of Israel ; and particularly, after the death 
 of Jair, one of the judges, they collected in great force 
 in Gilead, A. C. 1161. Jephtha was chosen to oppose 
 them ; and he sent ambassadors to demand the reason 
 of their hostility. It appears, that before the Israelites 
 entered Canaan, the Amorites had deprived the Am- 
 monites of a partof-their territory; and Moses, having 
 afterwards driven the Amorites from this conquered 
 district, had divided it between the tribes of Gad and 
 Reuben. The Ammonites now declared to the mes- 
 sengers of Jephtha, that they came in arms to claim the 
 restitution of this tract of country. In reply to this de- 
 mand, Jephtha naturally alleged, that the Israelites had 
 gained the land from the Ammonites by fair conquest ; that 
 they had possessed it unchallenged for three hundred 
 years ; that the attempt of the Ammonites to regain it, 
 after the lapse of so long a period, was altogether un- 
 justifiable; that he would not consent to restore it, but 
 would confide in God to support the justice of his cause. 
 The Ammonites persisted in their aggressions; were 
 engaged by the Israelites, and defeated with great 
 slaughter. (Jud. x. and xi ; Jos. Antir/. 1. v. c. 9.) Na- 
 hasli, the chief of the Ammonites, A. C. 1095, commit- 
 ted various acts of hostility upon the Israelites who dwelt 
 4 R
 
 682 
 
 AaiM 
 
 A3Ix\I 
 
 on tlie cast of Jordan, about the time of Saul's acces- 
 sion to the throne oi Israel. He put out tne right eye 
 of every man who fell into his hands; that, as the sight 
 of the left eye was generally obstructed by the shield 
 in time of battle, all these persons, being blind of the 
 right eye, might never again be of service to their 
 country in arms. Passing over Jordan, he laid siege to 
 Jabesh Gilcad, and reduced the city to offer a capitula- 
 tion. Nahash agreed to accept their submission, and 
 to spare their lives, upon the hard condition, tliat every 
 man should lose his right eye. The inhabitants of Ja- 
 besh requested seven days' respite ; and agreed to sub- 
 mit to these degrading terms, if they were not I'elieved 
 in that time. Saul, however, having heard of their dan- 
 ger, hastened to their aid ; defeated the Ammonites, and 
 saved the city from the threatening barbarity of Nahash; 
 (1 Sam. xi. Jos. Antiij. 1. 6, c. 5, 6.) It would appear, 
 that Nahash, from enmity to Saul, had shewn friendship 
 to David, when he was persecuted by that prince. After 
 the death of Nahash, David, who was then king of 
 Israel, sent a friendly message of condolence to his son 
 and successor Hanun. That prince was persuaded by 
 his chiefs to treat the messengers of David as spies, and 
 to abuse them in a shameful manner. Sensible that they 
 had thus exposed themselves to the vengeance of David, 
 the Ammonites prepared themselves for war, and called 
 the Syrians to their assistance. Joab was sent against 
 them with a body of chosen troops, completely routed 
 Hanun and his allies, and laid siege to his capital Kab- 
 bah, David, shortly after, joined his army there ; took 
 and demolished, not only that, but all the cities of the 
 Ammonites; destroyed the greater part of the inhabi- 
 tants, and reduced them under subjection to the king- 
 dom of Israel. (2 Sam. x. Jos. Antiq. I. vii. c. 6, 7.) 
 Thev continued in tliis condition till the death of Ahab, 
 •when they united with the Moabites, and made irrup- 
 tions both into the kingdom of Israel and Judah. They 
 were repulsed in both cases; and particularly in the lat- 
 ter expedition, they were struck with such infatuation 
 by the hand of God, that they destroyed one another 
 with dreadful carnage. (2 Chron. xx. Zo^. Antiq. \. ix. 
 c. 1.) They were again discomfited, and subjected to a 
 tribute, A. C. 758, by Jotham, the son of Uzziah. (2 
 Chron. xxvii. Jos. Antiq. 1. ix. c. 11.) They seem to 
 have ungenerously triumphed over the Israelites, when 
 oppressed by the Babylonians; but they were soon in- 
 volved in the same calamity by Nebuchadnezzar, when 
 he passed through Lower Syria, on his way to attack the 
 kingdom of Egypt. (Jos. Antiq. 1. x. c. 11 .) These 
 various tribes, which Nebuchadnezzar had dispersed, 
 were restored to their several territories, about 70 years 
 afterwards, by Cyrus, king of Persia; and continued 
 subject to that monarchy till it was overthrown by the 
 Macedonians. After the death of Alexander the Great, 
 the Ammonites, and all the other nations in Palestine, 
 were sometimes under the dominion of the Syrian, and 
 at other times of the Egyptian princes. They took part 
 with Antioclius in his persecutions of the Jews; and 
 sustained, on that account, several defeats from the 
 Maccabees. (Jos. Antiq. 1. xii. c. 12.) After the de- 
 struction of Jerusalem by the Romans, all those ti'ibes 
 around Judea were denominated, in general, Arabians ; 
 ^nd, before the end of the 3d century, the Ammonites 
 '■' were not known as a distinct people; which fulfils the 
 prediction of Ezekiel, (c. xxv. 10.) that they should 
 •' not be remembered among the nations." Calraet. Jos. 
 Antiq. (?) 
 
 AMMONIURET, is the solution of any subsUnce 
 in ammonia. (■«•)* 
 
 AMMONIUS, surnamed Saccan, from his former 
 profession raxKopofa?, a ftorter, was the founder of the 
 Eclectic philosophy at Alexandria. He was born of 
 Christian parents, and, according to some, conthmed 
 through life to profess Christianity; but Porphyry and 
 others claim him as a convert to paganism. Eusebius 
 defends him from this charge, and Bayle takes up the 
 same side of the argument, referring to the writings of 
 Ammonius for evidence of his Christianity. But the 
 Ammonius of whom we are speaking, left no writings 
 behind him, as his pupil Longinus attests. 
 
 The great object which Ammonius had in view, was 
 to reconcile the jarring systems of philosophy, and, in 
 particular, to form a coalition between the Platonists 
 and the Aristotelians, whose disputes at that time divi- 
 ded the world. For this purpose, he endeavoured to se- 
 lect from various systems those tenets which were uni- 
 versally admitted, whilst he discarded all such doctrines 
 as were doubtful, and capable of being controverted. 
 However plausible this scheme may appear, it is entire- 
 ly delusive : the province of philosophy would be mar- 
 vellously circumscribed, were it to admit nothing but 
 universally acknowledged truths ; and it would be the 
 'rarest phenomenon that ever was exhibited to the world, 
 to meet with a system of philosophical doctrines which 
 have never been controverted. The scheme, however, 
 was amazingly popular at first, and continued in vogue 
 till it had nearly ruined both religion and philosophy. 
 Its author was dignified with the epithet of (loi'iS'icKToi. 
 or heaven-taught ; and all denominations of philosophers 
 and religionists, whether Platonists or Aristotelians, 
 Christians or Pagans, vied with each other in celebrating 
 his praises. His plan, indeed, was wonderfully calcula- 
 ted to soothe and deceive the partisans of the difiFerent 
 systems. He did not condemn any as erroneous; their 
 errors and absurdities were left in the back grounds, 
 whilst he endeavoured to bring into view their most 
 useful tenets and most prominent excellencies. By 
 these means, all parties were flattered, and eager to 
 claim Ammonius as their champion. Unfortunately, the 
 Christian fathers of those days, many of whom had pro- 
 fessed the heathen philosophy before their conversion 
 to Christianity, fell in with the general delusion, and 
 gladly embraced a system which seemed to reconcile 
 their present profession with their early prejudices. As 
 Ammonius had been liberal in introducing the Chris- 
 tian maxims into his motley system, and had laboured 
 to shew their conformity with the Gentile philosophy, 
 the fathers, on their part, attempted to engraft heathen- 
 ism on Christianity, and to reconcile its dogmas with the 
 purity of the gospel. This unnatural coalition, as might 
 be expected, was productive of the most lamentable 
 effects, and was the principal means of corrupting the 
 purity of the gospel. 
 
 Ammonius died at Alexandria about A. D. 230. The 
 most celebrated of his followers were, the famous Lon- 
 
 * This, strictly speaking, is not correct ; for some of 
 the ammoniurets are in a solid form ; as ammoniuret of 
 copper in its common officinal preparation. — It must, 
 however, be remarked, that, although denominated am- 
 moniuret of copper, this substance is in fact a triple 
 salt, of sulphuric acid, ammonia, and oxyd of copper. 
 
 COXK.
 
 AMN 
 
 A3I0 
 
 683 
 
 ginus, Plotinus^ Ilcrcnnius, Origen, (not the famous 
 Origen,) Porphyry, Jamblichus, Julian the Apostate, 
 Ammianus Marccllinus; besides many others ol' less 
 note, both Ciiristians and pagans. For a more detailed 
 view of the opinions of the Eclectics, see Ecleciic 
 
 PHILOSOPHr. (.§•) 
 
 AMMUNITION, properly signifies guns, powder, 
 and ball, though it is sometimes employed to denote all 
 kinds of military stores ; according to some, it is deri- 
 ved from amonilio, a barbarous Latin word, which signi- 
 fies subsistence ; while others suppose it to come from 
 munitio, a fortification ; as choses a munitions^ things for 
 the fortresses.* {g) 
 
 AMNESTY, an act of oblivion ; in which all crimes 
 against the government are declared to be forgotten and 
 annulled. The ai/.tytrrta., or af<,»;;r( x«x(«, from which 
 the English word is derived, was an act of a similar 
 kind among the Athenians. It was passed by Thrasy- 
 bulus, after the expulsion of the thirty tyrants. See 
 Cornel. Nep. in -vit. Thrasybul. Andocides, Oratio de 
 Mysttriia. See also HofFmanni, Lexicon Univers. Art. 
 Amnestia. (w) 
 
 AMNIOS, or Amnion, the Internal membrane of the 
 impregnated uterus, which is thin and pellucid, though 
 firmer and stronger than the chorion. The waters con- 
 tained within this membrane, called liquores amnii vary 
 in colour, quantity, and consistency, according to the 
 different periods of pregnancy, or the constitution of the 
 female. They are of a saline sweetish taste, slightly 
 coagulable by heat, and by the ordinary tests of albumen. 
 When evaporated to dryness, they afford 0.012 part of 
 solid matter, consisting of albumen muriate and carbo- 
 nate of soda and phosphate of lime. They were for- 
 merly believed to supply nourishment to the foetus, an 
 opinion which is now exploded. Their use unquestion- 
 ably is to secure to the foetus a soft bed and free motion, 
 and to guard it from external injury. Inclosed during 
 labour in the membranes, they procure the most gentle 
 and efficacious dilatation of the os uteri and the soft 
 parts. See Denman's Midwifery. Hamilton's Midwifery. 
 See also Anatomy and Chemistry. (») 
 
 AMNIOTIC Acid, a name given by Messrs Buniva 
 and Vauquelin to a concrete acid, 'which was produced 
 by evaporation from the liquor of the amnios. See An- 
 nates de C/iimie, torn, xxxiii. p. 269, and Chemistry, (o) 
 
 * This word appears clearly derived from the Latin 
 muniri, to fortify, and nninitio, a fortification ; the signifi- 
 cation of which was enlarged during the barbarous ages, 
 so as to include not only walls, mounds and bulwarks, 
 but also provisions and all kinds of warlike stores that 
 are necessary for the defence of a fortified town. Hence 
 in modern Italian, the word munizione means at the 
 same time provisions, warlike stores, and fortifications 
 of every description. Nothing is more common in the 
 history of languages than similar extensions of the 
 meaning of words, which were originally appropriated to 
 a single object. As a further example, we will nistance 
 the French word munir, which is also derived from the 
 Latin muniri ; it not only means at present toybr/j/y and 
 provide a town with the requisite articles for defence, 
 but it is employed in a variety of senses that have no con- 
 nection with fortification or war. Se viunir d'un ton man- 
 teau pour le froid. Se jnunir d'argent, de cliex'aux fiour 
 un voyage is'c. Diet, de I'Academie Frangoise. 
 
 DUPONCEAU. 
 
 AMOMUM, a genus of plants of the class Monan- 
 dria, and order Monogynia. See Botany, (w) 
 
 AMONTONS, William, a celebrated experimental 
 philosopher, was born on the 31st ol August, 1663. His 
 father was a lawyer in Normandy, who, from motives 
 that have not l)cen recorded, removed with his family to 
 Paris. In early life, while Amontons was yet at school, 
 he was deprived of his hearing ; a loss which, tiiough 
 it excluded him from the society and converse of his 
 friends, engaged him to give his undivided attention to 
 the study of geometiy and mechanics. Like the ancient 
 philosopher who pulled out his eyes, that he might not 
 be distracted by the sight of external objects, Amon- 
 tons is said to have refused every remedy for a disease 
 which compelled him to devote to philosophy those por- 
 tions of his time, which might otherwise have been 
 wasted in a vain and fruitless intercourse with the world. 
 But whatever praise may be due to such stoical forti- 
 tude, we cannot think highly of the man who willingly 
 surrenders the privilege of contemplating the ever-va- 
 rying riches of creation, or who would prefer solitary 
 speculation to that noble communion of souls, which is 
 the characteristic of rational beings. It is true philo- 
 sophy to bear with equanimity the evils of life ; but it 
 is empiricism to create or to cherish sufferings. 
 
 The attention of Amontons was first directed to the 
 perpetual motion ; a subject which, like the philoso- 
 pher's stone, has long continued to excite the ambition 
 and perplex the understanding, of the credulous and the 
 ignorant. He was, however, soon convinced of the dif- 
 ficulty of his project, though he still expected, that, by 
 the aid of mathematical principles, he might carry it 
 into execution. Geometry, therefore, became his fa- 
 vourite study ; and he pursued it with unabating ardour, 
 in spite of the opposition and remonstrances of his 
 friends. Along with this branch of abstract science, 
 he studied drawing, architecture, and land-surveying ; 
 and from the skill which he acquired in these practi- 
 cal departments, he was employed in several public 
 works. 
 
 Amontons likewise employed his ingenuity in the 
 construction of instruments for measuring the variations 
 in the state of our atmosphere. He proposed an air 
 thermometer, grounded on more accurate and philoso- 
 phical principles than any hitherto contrived. In the 
 course of his researches, he found that the boiling point 
 of water is variable, and depends on the atmospheric 
 pressure; an important discovery which was also made 
 about the same time by Dr Halley in England, .\mon- 
 tons suggested several improvements on the barometer; 
 and, at the age of twenty-four, he presented to the Royal 
 Academy of Sciences a new hygrometer, which re- 
 ceived the approbation of that learned body. These 
 improvements, however, are now eclipsed by the deli- 
 cate instruments which have been more recently brought 
 to forward the progress of physical science. 
 
 In 1669, when the academy of sciences was new-mo- 
 delled, Amontons was elected a member. He invented 
 a telegraph very like that now in use. His new theory 
 of friction, which he read at one of their meetings, was 
 a valuable communication, upon a subject which had 
 scarcely excited the attention of philosophers ; and his 
 researches on that subject were regarded as the most 
 ingenious and correct, till they were superseded by the 
 more accurate and extensive experiments of Coulomb. 
 
 Though Amontons had always enjoyed the most per- 
 fect health, he was suddenly attacked with an inflammji- 
 4-R 2
 
 684 
 
 AMO 
 
 AMP 
 
 tion of his bowels, wliicli terminated his existence on 
 the 11th of October, 1705, and in the 42d year of his 
 age. In pi'ivate life, he was distinguished by an inte- 
 grity of mind, and a frankness, candour, and simplicity 
 of manner, which naturally sprung from his seclusion 
 from the world. His genius for invention and for ex- 
 perimental philosophy, appears in the numerous papers 
 with which he enriched the Memoirs of the Academy 
 from 1696 to 1705. See Hygrometer and Thermo- 
 meter, (fi) 
 
 AMORGO, anciently Jmorgus, or Amorgos, is an 
 island in the Archipelago, or jEgean sea, about three 
 miles broad, and ten miles longr Amorgo was, in an- 
 cient times, a place to which criminals were banished, 
 and could then boast of three principal towns, Arcesi- 
 nos, Minoij, and Ejealc ; but time has not spared even 
 their ruins to enable us to discover the places which 
 they occupied. The surface of this island is diversified 
 with lofty mountains, steep rugged rocks, and fertile 
 plains. It abounds in corn, wine, oil, and fruits. The 
 inhabitants are remarkable for their affability and mild- 
 ness, and the women are uncommonly beautiful ; but 
 they are the victims of ignorance, credulity and super- 
 stition. E. Long. 25° 50'. N. Lat. 36" 53'. See Sonnini's 
 Travels-, chap. xiv. p. 174. (t) 
 
 AMORITES, a people of Syria, descended from 
 Emor, or Amorrhaeus, the fourth son of Canaan, (Gen. 
 X. 16.) The Arabian writers derive the name of the 
 Amorites from Gomorrah, one of the cities which was 
 destroyed by fire from heaven ; but whatever resem- 
 blance the words may bear to each other in modern 
 languages, they have little in the original Hebrew ; and 
 there is no historical proof whatever, that the people in 
 question had any connection with that city. They were 
 a race of men of gigantic stature, and great courage, 
 (Amos ii. 9,) and were among the most formidable of 
 the tribes with whom the Israelites had to contend. 
 Hence the name Amorite, is frequently used in scrip- 
 ture to denote the Canaanites in general, (Josh. v. 1.) 
 The district which they inhabited, and from which they 
 had expelled the Ammonites, was remarkably fertile, 
 and was encompassed, like an island, by three rivers ; 
 !)y Arnon on the south, by Jabbok on the north, and by 
 .lordan on the west. [Jos. Antiq. \. iv. c. 5.) Moses re- 
 quested permission from Sihon, prince of the Amorites, 
 to lead the Israelites through his territories into Canaan ; 
 and promised to injure nothing on the way, not even to 
 draw water from the wells. Sihon refused to grant this 
 request, and collected his forces to oppose the passage 
 of the Hebrews, A. C. 1452. He was defeated and slain 
 in the encounter; and his country was occupied by the 
 tribes of Gad and Reuben. Numb. c. xxi. and xxxii. — 
 Jos. Antiq. 1. iv. c. 5, 7. (?) 
 
 AMORIUM, a city in Asia Minor, celebrated in the 
 war waged between the emperor Theophilus, and the 
 caliph Motassem in 838. After Theophilus had razed 
 the town of Sozopetra, the birth-place of Motassem, and 
 inflicted upon its inhabitants the most atrocious cruel- 
 ties, the enraged caliph vowed revenge against the city 
 of Amorium. The bravery of the garrison, and the 
 desperate fortitude of the inhabitants, resisted, for the 
 space of fifty-five days, the previous assaults of the Sa- 
 racens, and Motassem would have been compelled to 
 al)andon the siege, had not a traitorous citizen, who had 
 abjured the Christian faith, pointed out the weakest 
 part of the walls, and thus enabled the enemy to tri- 
 umph over the unparalleled bravery of its defenders. 
 
 In this siege no less than 70,000 Moslems were slain, 
 and their death was revenged by the murder of 30,000 
 Christians, and an ccjual immber of the brave inhabi- 
 tants. Sec Gibbon's Hist, of the Decl. isi'c. vol. x. p. 
 67. (^) 
 
 AMORPHA, a genus of plants of the class Diadel- 
 phia, and order Decandria. See Botany, (w) 
 
 AMORTIZATION, or Amortizement, from a/nor' 
 tir, to extinguish, is the act of transferring lands to some 
 corporation, or of turning them into mortmain, (y) 
 
 AMOS, one of the minor prophets, was contempora- 
 ry with Ilosea, and propliesied about 780 years belore 
 Christ. He was by profession a herdsman, and appears 
 to have been born in the territories ot Israel; but, after 
 being driven from Bethel, (Amos vii. 10, kc.) he re- 
 tired to Tekoah, in the kingdom oi Judah, about four 
 leagues south from Jerusalem. His prophecies are di- 
 rected chiefly against the kingdom of Israel; but he 
 often denounces judgments also against Judah, and the 
 different nations bordering upon Palestine. He clearly 
 foretels tlie captivity and sufferings of the ten tribes, and 
 declares as expressly their future restoration under the 
 Messiah. There are several traditions, but no certain 
 accounts, of the time and manner of his death. It has 
 been remarked, that his comparisons are drawn from 
 the rural scenes, and pastoral life, to which he was fa- 
 miliarized by his employment; but this is by no means 
 peculiar to Amos ; and the principal images in the poeti- 
 cal and prophetical parts of scripture are taken from 
 the same natural objects. Jerome considers this pro- 
 phet as low and coarse in his style, applying to him the 
 words of Paul, " rude in speech, yet not in knowledge;" 
 (2 Cor. xi. 6.) and, upon the authority of that father, he 
 is frequently represented as deficient in lofty ideas, and 
 elegant expressions. In the opinion, however, of bishop 
 Lowth, Amos is equal to any of the prophets in sublimity 
 of sentiment, splendour of diction, and beauty of compo- 
 sition. His descriptions of the Almighty are peculiarly 
 magnificent, and his whole writings are distinguished 
 by a masculine eloquence. — Calmet. Bettyman's T/ie- 
 ologv. Gray. (7) 
 
 AMPELITES, or Candle Coal. See Coal. 
 
 AMPHIBIA, in zftology, the third class of animals in 
 the Linnsan system. These animals are characterised 
 by having vertebrae, and cold blood, respiring by means 
 of lungs ; and being destitute of hair, feathers, and 
 mammje. 
 
 The amphibia, from the peculiar structure of their 
 organs, and the power which they possess of suspending 
 respiration at pleasure, can not only support a change 
 of clement uninjured, but can also occasionally endure 
 an abstinence, which would prove fatal to the higher or- 
 ders of animals. Their lungs differ from those of ani- 
 mals in the classes mammalia and aves, consisting, in 
 general, of a pair of large bladders, or membranaceous 
 receptacles, variously subdivided in different species; 
 and the heart is furnished with one ventricle only. 
 Some physiologists, however, think it more correct to 
 say, that the hearts of the amphibia are, in reality, dou- 
 ble, or furnished with two ventricles, with a free or im- 
 mediate communication between them. 
 
 Being provided with lungs, many of the species emit 
 particular sounds, which are harsh and unmusical ; 
 others, however, as the true salamander, (iacerta sala- 
 matidra,) common lizard, {Iacerta agilis,) are entirely 
 dumb. The genera differ from each other considerably 
 in their general conformation; some genera, as the tor-
 
 AMPHIBIA. 
 
 685 
 
 Loise, fi'Og, and lizard, have four feet ; while others, as 
 the coluber, boa. Sec. have a lengthened cylindrical body 
 destitute of external organs of motion. 
 
 The external teguments of the bodies of the amphi- 
 bia are much more varied than in warm-blooded animals ; 
 thus their bodies are sometimes defended by a hard, 
 horny shield, or covering; sometimes by a coriaceous 
 integument, sometimes by scales, and sometimes have 
 no particular defence or covering; the skin being mere- 
 ly marked by soft, pustular warts or protuberances, 
 more or less visible in tne different species. 
 
 Many are highly beaulilul in their colours, as well as 
 elegant in their forms ; whilst others are deformed, and 
 of unpleasing colours. Certain animals of this clsss, as 
 the different species of tortoise, and certain genera of 
 serpents, live on a great variety of food ; whilst others, 
 as the chamelion, and tree-trog, are very delicate in 
 their choice of food, living only on particular species of 
 live insects. 
 
 Many species, when confined, eat extremely little for 
 a surprisingly long period; thus the tortoise will live 
 nearly a year and half without nourishment. 
 
 Most of the amphibia are possessed of an astonishing 
 reproductive power; when feet, tail. Sec. are by any ac- 
 cident destroyed, others will grow in their place. 
 
 Some of<the amphibia, for example certain species of 
 serpents, are provided with poison, as a mean of defence ; 
 the salamander, and other genera, exude a frothy fluid 
 when they ai'e in danger; many species, particularly 
 among the serpent tribe, when in danger, exhale a spe- 
 cific and most loathsome odour. 
 
 In cold and temperate climates, nearly all the amphi- 
 bia pass the winter in a torpid state. During this sea- 
 son, they are often found perfectly stiff in holes in the 
 ice, or in the water. Thus the common water-newt, in 
 particular, is said to have been occasionally found com- 
 pletely imbedded in large masses of ice, in which it 
 must have remained inclosed for a very considerable 
 period ; and yet on the melting of the ice, has been re- 
 stored to life. Tiiey continue in this state, until revived 
 by the returning heat of spring. They hybernate either 
 singly, or collect together in numbers, as is the case 
 with frogs and salamanders. But if they are kept in a 
 warm chamber, they continue lively during the whole 
 winter.* 
 
 Most of the ampliibia are oviparous, or deposit their 
 eggs, and afterwards hatch them. The eggs, or ova, of 
 some species are covered with a hard calcareous shell; 
 whilst those of others have a soft tough skin or cover- 
 ing, somewhat resembling parchment; the eggs of se- 
 veral are gelatinous. Some few are viviparous, the eggs 
 first hatching internally, and the young being afterwards 
 excluded in their perfect form. 
 
 The amphibia grow very slowly ; the common frog, 
 for example, in general, cannot procreate until it has 
 attained its fourth year, and yet it probably does not live 
 beyond 12 or 16 years. The tortoise lives, even in a 
 state of captivity, above an hundred years ; and we may 
 infer from analogy, that large serpents and crocodiles 
 may reach a still greater age. 
 
 Some of the animals of this class are eminently useful 
 to the inhabitants of certain countries : the eggs and 
 flesh of the turtle afford a very delicious and nourishing 
 food ; and certain species of frogs and lizards are con- 
 
 sidered as delicacies, and in some countries are con- 
 sumt^d in very considerable quantities. The shell of 
 the tortoise is employed for a variety of purposes. 
 
 Many of the ampliibia, as the crocodile, are danger- 
 ous on account of their vast size and great strength ; 
 others, jjarticularly among the serpent tribe, are dan- 
 gerous on account of their poison; but the number of 
 poisonous serpents is not so great as was formerly ima- 
 gined ; perhaps, as Dr Shaw remarks, not more than a 
 sixth of the whole number of known species being of 
 that character. 
 
 The jaws of serpents are extremely dilatable, and the 
 oesophagus so lax, that they can swallow, without mas- 
 tication, an animal twice or thrice as large as the neck. 
 
 In the Linnaean arrangement, the amphibia are divi- 
 ded into four orders, viz. 1. Rcfitilcs licciati. 2. Serfie7i- 
 tcs afiodcs. 3. Mcantcn. 4. JVantes. The reptiles pc- 
 dati have four feet, and they walk as if creeping ; the 
 serpents have no feet, and they crawl upon their belly ; 
 the names have fins, and swim; and the meantes, or 
 gliders, according to Liimseus, have both gills and lungs, 
 and are furnished with arms and claws. This ariange- 
 ment has been considerably improved by naturalists 
 since Linnaeus's time. The cnn/ihidia names have been 
 placed amongst the true fishes, because they have a 
 similar internal structure and external aspect. They 
 form a particular division under the title cartilaginous 
 fishes, which is subdivided into two orders, the chon- 
 dropterygii, and branchiostegi; the order chondropte- 
 rygii contains the following genera, petromyzon, gastro- 
 branchus, raja, squalus, lophius, balistes, and chimaera; 
 the order branchiostegi, the genera accipcnser, ostra- 
 cion, tetrodon, diodon, cyclopterus, centriscus, syngna- 
 thus, and pegasus. The order meantes is abolished, 
 and the animal on whose account it was established, the 
 siren, is placed near the salamander, and other species 
 of reptiles pedati. The whole class is now divided into 
 two orders, viz. rr/itiles and serfientcs. The order of 
 reptiles is subdivided into four genera, viz. testudo, 
 draco, lacerta, and rana; and that of serpentes into nine 
 genera, viz. crotalus, boa, coluber, anguis, amphisbcena, 
 caecilia, acrochordus, hydrus, and langaya. This im- 
 proved arrangement, first proposed by Blumenbach, has 
 since been followed by Gmelin, Shaw, and other zoolo- 
 gists, and is the best hitherto proposed. 
 
 The naturalists of the French school have proposed 
 arrangements different from that of Blumenbach: to 
 give an account of all these would exceed our limits, 
 and merely to enumerate them would be useless ; we 
 shall therefore confine ourselves to a very short account 
 of the latest arrangement, viz. that of Dumcril, the pu- 
 pil of the illustrious Cuvier, as stated in his Zoologie 
 AnahjtUjue. According to this arrangement, the amphi- 
 bia are divided into four orders, named cheloniens, sau- 
 riens, ophidiens, and batriciens. 
 
 The order cheloniens (from X'^.Xoin, tortoise) is thus 
 characterised ; body short, oval, arched, covered with a 
 shell, having four feet, and without teeth. It contains 
 the following genera, chclonia, chelus, emys, and tes- 
 tudo; the genus f/;p/o?!;o, includes all the species of sea- 
 turtle, and also those that inhabit salt lakes; the genus 
 chelus contains but a single species, the testudo fimbri- 
 ataof Schosff; the genus fmys, those species that inha- 
 bit rivers, rivulets, and fresh-water lakes; and the genus 
 
 • It is worthy of remark, that those animals to which the ancients attributed the fabulous property of resistiog the fl.-vmes, should, 
 in reality, be able to resist the effects of freezing.
 
 686 
 
 AMV 
 
 AMP 
 
 tcntudo, those species tbut live upon the land, and even 
 in the sea or rivers. 
 
 The second order sauvicns, (from 2«tJj»;, lizard,) is 
 thus characterised ; body without a shelly covering, tour 
 feet provided with rrookcd nails, jaws aniied \vith teeth. 
 It is subdivided into two families, viz. planicaudes and 
 teretecaudes ; which distinctions are founded on the 
 shape of the tail, it being flattened horizontally or per- 
 pendicularly in the planicaudes, which generally live in 
 the water, and conical or cylindrical in the teretecaudes, 
 that live on the land. The planicaudes contains six 
 genera, viz. crocodilus, dracaena, tupinambis, uroplatus. 
 iophyrus, and basiliscus; the teretecaudes contains ten 
 genera, viz. iguana, draco, agama, stellio,anolis, lacerta, 
 scincus, chalcides, gecko, and camaelio. 
 
 The third order, ophidiens, (serpentes,) is thus cha- 
 racterised ; body elongated, narrow, without feet or fins, 
 jaws provided with teeth. It is subdivided into two fa- 
 milies, viz. homodeiTncs and heterodermes; the hon.o- 
 dermes is either destitute of scales, or the scales over 
 the whole body are alike ; the mouth is small, the jaws 
 not dilatable, and it is destitute of venomous fangs or 
 tusks; the heterodermes family has the skin covered 
 with small scales above, with scuta beneath, with dilata- 
 ble jaws. The homodermes contains six genera, viz. 
 caecilia, amphisbcena, achrocordus, ophisaurus, anguis, 
 and hydrophis; the heterodermes contains eight genera, 
 viz. erix, erepton, boa, coluber, vipera, scytales, crota- 
 lus, and platurus. 
 
 The fourth order, batriciens, (from ixT^a,x.'"i,ffog^ is 
 thus characterised ; body naked, without scales or shelly 
 covering, feet without claws. It is subdivided into two 
 families, viz. anoures (ecaudati), and urodeles (caudati); 
 in the first family the body is large, without a tail, and 
 the fore feet are much shorter than the hinder feet ; in 
 the second family the body is elongated, provided with 
 a tail, the fore feet of equal length, and the tongue ad- 
 hering. The family of anoures contains four genera, 
 viz. pipa, bufo, i-ana, and hyla ; the family of urodeles 
 also contains four genera, viz. triton, salamandra, pro- 
 tseus, and siren. It is evident, that in this arrangement, 
 not only the genera, but also the orders and families 
 are unnecessarily multiplied, and therefore, that the 
 more simple, and equally accurate system of Blumen- 
 bach is to be preferred, (r) 
 
 AMPHIBIOUS, in Natural History, a term applied 
 to those animals which possess, in a considerable de- 
 gree, the power of living with equal facility both on the 
 land and in the water ; but, in technical language, it is 
 confined to those animals which constitute the amphibia 
 of naturalists. Strictly speaking, however, amphibious 
 animals ought to respire equally well in water as in air, 
 which we shall find to be the case with only one, or at 
 most two species of perfect animals. 
 
 We shall first mention those animals which possess, 
 in a greater or lesser degree, the power of living both 
 in water and on land ; and next inquire, what are the 
 truly amphibious species of animals. 
 
 The term onphibioiin has been applied to men who 
 have the faculty of remaining a long time under the 
 water. Divers employed in the pearl fishery possess 
 this faculty in a remarkable degree. We are told by 
 Father Kircher, that a Sicilian, named Fish-Colas, by a 
 long liabitude from his youth, had so accustomed him- 
 self to live in water, that his nature seemed to be quite 
 altered, so that he lived rather after the manner of a 
 fish, than a man. Other animals of the class mammalia 
 are amphibious; these are generally web-fooled, as the 
 
 beaver, seal, otter; some, however, are not so, as the 
 hippopotamus, tupir, kc. bircs arc, i.i some degree, 
 amphibious. Water birds, as the colyniuii and pelicanii, 
 live much in the water, can reiviuia a considerable time 
 under its surface, and also iive on tiie land. 
 
 The greater number ol the animals of the class am- 
 phibia, as already mentioned, are amphibious; but of 
 tliese the most amphibious are the crocodile and turtle. 
 In the class of fishes, the species of the order apodes, 
 as the eel, are amphibious. 
 
 Some kinds of insects, in different stages of their life, 
 may be said to be amphibious. The dytscus, notonecta, 
 and ncpa, undergo ail their transformations, from the 
 egg, larva, and pupa state in the water, and though fur- 
 nished in the perfect state with wings, and consequently 
 destined to live on laud, seldom quit the water, except 
 in the evenings, and constantly return to it when their 
 flight is over; these are called water-beetles. Others 
 remain in the water only in the first stages of their 
 transformations, and would perish in their native ele- 
 ment from the moment they become winged insects; 
 as is frequently observed of the libellula, ephemera, and 
 phryangea, and some of themusci and culices; amongst 
 the latter, the transformation of the species pipiens, 
 common gnat, is a striking instance of this remark. In 
 fact, many of those creatures, which are nMstaken for 
 aquatic worms, are no other than the larva, or pupas, of 
 amphibious insects; which their parents deposit in the 
 egg state, on the leaves and stalks of plants, &c. that 
 grow in the water; and those, hatching instinctively, 
 remain in the water till they become winged insects. 
 It is said, that certain species of Umax can respire 
 equally well in air as in water, and hence are, in the 
 strictest sense, amphibious; this observation, however, 
 does not appear to be correct. Crustaceous animals arc 
 aquatic, and are provided with branchiae, yet certain 
 species leave the water and live on the land. 
 
 Many of the amphibious animals which have been 
 mentioned, have peculiar provisions in their structure 
 to fit them for such a variety of living ; particularly in 
 the heart, lungs, foramen ovale, &c. In some of these 
 animals, as the frog, tortoise, kc. the heart has but one 
 cavity, with an artery to receive the blood coming out of 
 it, and a vein to convey it thither. In others, the fora- 
 men ovale appears to be still open for the passage of the 
 blood from the fena cava to the arteria venosa, without 
 the help of breathing. 
 
 All animals, to which LinnKus applied the name am- 
 phibia, respire only in the air, whether they live in that 
 fluid perpetually, as certain species of lizards, or dive 
 under the water for a longer or shorter time, as frogs 
 and salamanders. On the contraiy, the cartilaginous 
 fishes, which the same naturalist united with the am- 
 phibia, do not respire but through the medium of water, 
 as is the case with all other fishes ; they have only 
 branchiae, no lungs. The forked swimming bladder, 
 observed in certain species, was, by Dr Garden, consi- 
 dered as lungs ; an error which misled Linnaeus, and 
 induced him to form his order of amphibia nantes. The 
 larvae of the common frog, toad, &c. contain both bran- 
 chiae and lungs, and respire, during part of their lives, 
 both in the elastic air of the atmosphere, and in that 
 contained in water ; thus participating in an equal de- 
 gree of the nature of land and aquatic animals, and 
 being thus, in the strictest sense, amphibious. But this 
 is only a temporaiy state in some species, and a mo- 
 mentary one in others. In proportion as the lungs be- 
 come more perfect, the branchiae are gradually oblite-
 
 AMP 
 
 AMP 
 
 687 
 
 r^itetl and at length entirely disappear, even before the 
 species has arrived at its full growth, or at least before 
 it can procreate its kind. 
 
 Naturalists have discovered and described three ani- 
 mals, uniting, as is the case with the tadpole, the two 
 kinds of respiratory organs, and not appearing to lose 
 them at any period of their life, and of such a size that 
 they cannot be considered as the larva of any animal in 
 the country where they are lound. These animals arc 
 the siren lacertina, Lin. the axolotl, or siren pisciformis 
 of Shaw, and the proteus. Are these three genera then, 
 as asserted by naturalists, perfect animals, true perma- 
 nent amphibia ? Ought they to be considered as forming 
 a class intermediate between the amphibia and pisces ? 
 The detail of the answers to these questions will be 
 found under the proper articles ; we shall here only 
 state the general result obtained by Cuvier, in his ex- 
 aminations of the external aspect and internal structure 
 of those interesting animals. He found, after a careful 
 examination of the external aspect, osteology, and or- 
 gans of circulation, respiration, digestion, generation, 
 and sensation of the siren lacertina, Lin. 1. That this 
 animal, whatever state it may afterwards attain, is dif- 
 ferent from the salamander cither in its perfect or larva 
 state. 2. That it does not appear to acquire hinder feet, 
 but remains a biped reptile. 3. That it docs not appear 
 to lose its branchiae ; and that no one, even in the coun- 
 try where it lives and abounds, has hitherto found a 
 specimen without branchix. 4. That it is essentially 
 different from fishes in its osteological structure, and 
 the organization of its branchise. 5. That it appears to 
 form a particular genus in the order of reptiles, in which 
 both branchise and lungs are permanent ; and that we 
 may consider it as a permanent larva of that order. 
 
 In regard to the axolotl, or siren pisciformis of Shaw, 
 he concludes, that it is probably the larva of some large 
 species of salamander. In regard to the proteus, he 
 remarks, that every observation proves it to be a parti- 
 cular species, different from all hitherto known, and 
 that very probably it is an adult animal, which does not 
 change its state. It therefore follows, that the axolotl 
 ought to be erased from the list of perfect animals, and 
 be considered as a larva, and that the two others, viz. 
 the siren lacertina and proteus, are to be considered 
 distinct animals, which, to all appearance, do not change 
 their state, and consequently form genera, which are in 
 some respects intermediate between the order reptiles, 
 of the class amphibia, and the order chondropterygii, of 
 the class pisces : so that we have thus two genera of 
 perfect animals, which appear, in the strictest sense of 
 the word, to be amphibious. The proteus and siren are, 
 by Dumeril, placed in the family urodeles (caudali), of 
 his order Balracicns, along with the salamander and tri- 
 ton. — See Obacrvatiojis on the class of Animals called by 
 Lin77£us amphibia ; particularly on the means of distin- 
 guishing those Serpents lohich are venomous from those 
 'which are 7iot so, by G. W. Gray, M. D. Phil. 7'ra?;s, 
 vol. 79, p. 21 — 36. 
 
 Peter Boddart's Abhandlungen voti amphibien. Schr. 
 der. Berlin. Ges. A''aturf. Fr. 2 Band. p. 369 — 387. Bla- 
 sius Meerem's Biitr'dge zur geschichte der .4itiphibien. 
 Leipzig, 1790. L. G. Schneider's Amphibiorum Physio- 
 logix specimen primum, p. 82. 1790-4. Specimen alterum, 
 historian! et species generis, Stellionum sen Geckonum 
 sistens, p. 54, 1792. James Parson's Obsenations upon 
 Animals, commonly called Amphibious by authors. Phil. 
 Tran.s. vol. 55, pp. 193, 203, Geissler's Disputatio de Am- 
 
 *Ai(5iis, Leipsiae, 1676. R. Tounson's OA«fn'a/icine« P/jy- 
 siologica de Amphibiis, GocUm^x, 1794, 1795. liccherchea 
 Anatomiijues sur Us Hepliles regardea encore comme dou- 
 teux par Us nuturuUsles, faites a I'occasion de L'Axoltl, 
 rapporte jiur M. de Humboldt du Mexi<iae, par M. Cu- 
 vier : in Humboldt's H\^cueU d'obsemalions de Zoologie 
 el d' Anatom/i comparee, Paris, 1805. (r) 
 
 AMPHICTYONS, the deputies of the principal states 
 of Greece, who formed a general coimcil, similar to the 
 states-general of Holland, or the cfiet of the German 
 empire. It is remarkable, that though this institution 
 indicates a high degree of political wisdom, and a cor- 
 rect and extensive view of the general interest of Greece, 
 its origin is so remote as to be involved in the obscurity 
 of the fabulous ages. Some suppose, that Amphictyon, 
 the son of Deucalion, was the first founder of this as- 
 sembly, which was therefore called by his name; others 
 ascribe that honour to Acrisius, king of the Argivcs ; 
 while others, tracing its origin to a still more distant 
 period, maintain, that, from the earliest ages, deputies 
 from the neighbouring states were wont to assemble at 
 Delphi, and were called Amphictjons, from ce^itpi, about. 
 xliev, or k](£iv, to dwell ; because they dwelt in the sur- 
 rounding countries. An ingenious and plausible account 
 of the institution of this assembly''has been suggested 
 by Dr Doig, who supposes, that the Hellenes, the un- 
 doubted founders of the oracle of Dodona, may likewise 
 have established that of Delphi. The sanctity of the 
 place, and the high reputation of the oracle, attracted 
 crowds of votaries; and, as the Hellenic tribes beheld 
 with jealousy the growing power of the oriental colo- 
 nies, they determined, for their mutual security, to hold 
 stated conventions at Delphi, whose central situation 
 pointed it out as peculiarly convenient for that purpose. 
 Common sacrifices, the most inviolable bond of union, 
 would naturally be accompanied by libei-al donations, 
 which would soon form an ample treasury. The charge 
 of this treasure would, of course, be entrusted to offi- 
 cers appointed for the purpose ; and such, we are ex- 
 pressly informed by Strabo, was one part of the duty 
 of the Amphictyons. The members of this council 
 seem, therefore, to have been originally wardens of the 
 temple at Delphi, elected by the suffrage of their re- 
 spective tribes. But their mutual honour and safety 
 were objects of as obvious and necessary concern; ano- 
 ther class of deputies Avould therefore be appointed to 
 watch over the civil interests of the confederated states. 
 Thus the Amphictyonic assembly was composed of two 
 distinct classes of members, who gradually united, 
 however, in discharging the sacred and civil functions 
 which had at first been appropriated to them separately. 
 
 Even with regard to the number and the names of 
 the states represented in this council, writers have not 
 been able to agree. Some include in tlie confederacy 
 the twelve following nations : lonians, Dorians, Per- 
 rhaehians, Breotians, Magnesians, Achaeans, Phthian"^ 
 Melians, Dolopians, jEnianians, Delphians, and Pho- 
 oceans : such is the enumeration given by Strabo, Har- 
 pocration, and Suidas. iEschincs reckons only eleven ; 
 and, instead of the AcJiaeans, jEnianians, Delphians, and 
 Dolopians, substitutes the Thessalians, CEtans, and Lo- 
 crians. Ten only are included in the list of Pausanias ; 
 the lonians, Dolopians, Thessalians, jEnianians, Mag- 
 nesians, Melians, Phthians, Dorians, Phocoeans, and 
 Locrians. 
 
 The number of members in this assembly is not bet- 
 ter ascertained than that of the states which they repre-
 
 688 
 
 AMP 
 
 AMP 
 
 scnted. If, as we arc informed, each city sent two de- 
 puties, thoil- number could never have exceeded iwenly- 
 i'our; yet Pausanias, wlio lived under the reiyn of 
 Antoninus Pius, assures us, tliat, in liis time, the Ani- 
 phictyonic council contained not fewer than thirty mem- 
 bers. Of the two representatives delegated by each 
 state, one called is^oiA-viii^uv, was appointed to inspect the 
 sacrifices and religious rites ; the other, called ■srv^a.yo^ai, 
 to hear and determine private causes and differences. 
 The former was chosen by lot, the latter by suffrage : 
 both were equally entitled to advise and to vote iu what- 
 ever concerned the general interests of Greece. 
 
 The great poUtical object for which this assembly 
 convened, was to unite in strict amity the slates which 
 it represented, and to rouse them to mutual vigilance 
 and activity in preserving the general tranquillity, or 
 promoting the general welfare. In subservience to this 
 great end, the Amphictyons were also constituted the 
 protectors of the oracle of Delphi, the superintendents 
 of the wealth of its temple, and the arbiters of all dis- 
 putes that might arise between the Delphians and the 
 votaries who repairedihither for the advice of the god. 
 Before beginning their deliberations, they sacrihced an 
 ox, which they cut into small pieces, as a symbol of 
 their union. Their influence was unlimited; and from 
 their decisions, which were held sacred and inviolable, 
 there was no appeal. " If any thing," says M. de Valois, 
 in his Histoire de la Premiere Guerre Sacree, " If any 
 thing can give us a just idea of the high elevation of 
 the Amphictyons, it is certainly the absolute power of 
 declaring and waging war when they thought proper; a 
 right which has at all times been regarded as the inse- 
 parable prerogative of sovereignty; as it is that which 
 more especially characterises the unbounded power 
 with which that illustrious association was invested." 
 
 A solemn oath was administered to the Amphictyons 
 on their admittance ; to divest no city of its right of de- 
 putation, nor avert its running waters; to wage mortal 
 war against all who should make such an attempt ; and 
 more especially, in case of any attempt to spoil the tem- 
 ple, to employ hands, feet, tongue, and, in short, their 
 whole power to revenge it. Against the violators of this 
 oath, dreadful imprecations were denounced: "May 
 they incur the full vengeance of Apollo, Diana, Lalona, 
 and Minerva; may their soil be barren, and their wives 
 produce only monsters ; in every law-suit may their ad- 
 versary prevail; may they be conquered in war, their 
 houses be demolished, and themselves and their children 
 put to the sword." 
 
 After the capture of Cirrha, and the defeat of the 
 Crissjeans, the Amphictyons revived, with great magni- 
 ficence, the Pythian games, which had been so long 
 discontinued as to be almost forgotten. Of these games, 
 which, after tliat event, were celebrated annually, the 
 Amphictyons, in right of their office, were ogonethae, 
 or judges, till Philip of Macedon usurped the right of 
 presiding, even by proxy, both in their council and at 
 the Pythian games. From that period their respecta- 
 bility was destroyed, and their authority rapidly declined ; 
 and, in the time of Augustus, they had sunk into such 
 insignificance, that Strabo regarded the institution as 
 completely annihilated. Strabo, I'lh. ix. pp. 607, 611, 
 622. Mem. Acad. Jnscr. torn. vii. Potter's Arch. Gr<ec. 
 JEdinb. Trans, vol. iii. p. 150, &c. {k) 
 
 AMPHIMONE, in Zoology, a genus constituted by 
 Bruguiere, for the admission of four species of sea- 
 v.orms, that have been arranged by Pallas under the 
 
 genus Aphrodita, and by Gmelin under thatof Tercbclla. 
 Of this last genus they are the species named by Gme- 
 lin Jlaxa carunculata rrjstrata and cani/ilanala. A pretty 
 full account of these animals is given by Cuvier in the 
 Dictioiinuire des Hcinices A'alurtllt-.s, torn. ii. p. 71. (./") 
 
 AMPHION, the name of two different princes, who 
 lived during the fabulous era of Grecianjlistory ; one, 
 the son of an unknown father, by Antiope, daughter of 
 Nycteus, king of Boeotia; the other, son of Jasus, king 
 of Orchomenos, by Persephone, daughter of Mius. 
 
 Amphion, the son of Antiope, was renowned for his 
 eloquence and skill in music. He and his twin-brother 
 Zethus, were born on Mount Citheron, to which Antiope 
 had retired to conceal her pregnancy; and being imme- 
 diately after their birth exposed in the woods, owed 
 their preservation to the humanity of a shepherd. 
 Nycteus was succeeded in his kingdom by his brother 
 Lycus, who imprisoned his niece Antiope, and treated 
 her with great cruelty. Her wrongs were avenged by 
 Amphion, who, with the assistance of his brother, be- 
 sieged and took Thebes, put Lycus to death, and esta- 
 blished himself in the government. It is related by 
 Homer, that, to confirm his power, and protect his sub- 
 jects, he inclosed the city with a wall of great length, 
 furnished with seven gates, and defended by towers, 
 placed at proper distances from one another. He ensured 
 the welfare of the Thebans still more essentially, by 
 establishing wise political institutions, and enacting 
 equitable laws, fitted to render their persons and pro- 
 perties secure. From the remoteness of the period in 
 which this prince lived, there are few materials for an 
 authentic history of his transactions. This circumstance, 
 however, renders them fitter subjects for the exaggera- 
 tions of fiction. Accordingly, the poets inform us, that 
 Amphion was the son of Jupiter, who deceived Antiope 
 under the form of a satyr. The god Mercury became 
 his instructor in eloquence and music ; in both which 
 arts his progress was so great, that by his persuasive 
 eloquence he civilized the Thebans, who formerly wan- 
 dered in a savage state ; and the magic of his lyre so 
 charmed the stones, that they arranged themselves in 
 architectural order, and formed the walls of Thebes. 
 This fable is alluded to in many beautiful passages in 
 the later poets. Vide Propertius, 3 Al. 15. Ovid. De- 
 Art. Am. iii. v. 323. Horace, 3 Od. 11. Ars Poet. v. 394. 
 Stat. Theb. i. v. 10. 
 
 AMPHION, the son of Jasus, married Niobe, daugh- 
 ter of Tantalus, by whom, according to Ovid, he had 
 seven sons and seven daughters. Niobe, vain of her 
 numerous family, despised Latona, who had only pro- 
 duced Apollo and Diana. These deities punished her 
 insolence, by slaying her children with their arrows: 
 Niobe was changed into a stone, and Amphion slew 
 himself in despair. {■^) 
 
 AMPHISB^NA, in Zoology, a genus oT serpents, 
 so called, because they can proceed almost equally well 
 with either the head or tail forward, from »/iipi^a.ifu, to 
 go both ways. See Ophiology. (/) 
 
 AMPHITHEATRE, called sometimes Visorium, an 
 edifice of an elliptical form, resembling two theatres 
 turned towards each other, with a spacious area in the 
 middle, on which were exhibited various kinds of games 
 and spectacles, particularly combats of gladiators and 
 wild beasts. To conceal the blood shed in these com- 
 bats, the area was strewed with sand, and was, from that 
 circumstance, called the arena. The oval form of the 
 amphitheatre is said to have been occasioned by the na-
 
 AMPIttTIIEATRE. 
 
 689 
 
 tuvc of the games, which, obliging the combatants to 
 pursue and retreat alternately, rendered it necessary 
 that the ground should lengthen out a little from the 
 centre. To accommodate immense crowds of specta- 
 tors, was another grand object in the construction of 
 those edifices, lor which the elliptical form was pecu- 
 liarly iavourablc. The arena was surrounded by lodges 
 or cells, containuig the wild beasts which were to be 
 produced in the combat. Immediately above tliese 
 lodges was a gallery, called the jiadiuin., which com- 
 pletely surrounded the arena, and which was occupied 
 by the senators, ambassadors of foreign nations, and 
 other personages of the first distinction. In the centre 
 of one side of this gallery, there was erected for the 
 emperor a kind of throne, called suggeslum, covered 
 with a canopy like a pavilion. This suggestum was lined 
 ■with silk, and decorated with the richest ornaments. 
 The podium projected oyer the wall which surrounded 
 the arena, and was elevated above it about 12 or 15 feet. 
 It was secured in front by strong net-work, iron-rails 
 armed with spikes, and with strong rollers of timber, 
 which turned vertically, to prevent any irruption of the 
 hunted animals. Behind this gallery there rose 14 
 ranges of seats, which were allotted to the equestrian 
 order, and to the tribunes, both civil and military, whose 
 number was very great, and constantly increasing, as 
 all who had once filled the office were ever after en- 
 titled to the rank. Above these seats, other rows, ap- 
 propriated to the lower orders, ascended to the summit, 
 in such a manner, that the arena might be seen from 
 every part, and that the whole interior of the building 
 resembled a crate ra, or bowl, the cavity of which di- 
 minished gradually from the summit to the arena. The 
 seats of the higher orders were covered with cushions, 
 and the marble benches, in general, with boards. As 
 the amphitheatres, like the theatres, were open in the 
 top, they were provided with an awning, or curtain of 
 different colours, which, by means of puUies and cords, 
 could be let down or drawn up at pleasure, and which 
 were occasionally stretched to screen the spectators 
 from the excessive heat or the rain. By means of se- 
 cret tubes, the spectators were besprinkled with per- 
 fumes, which counteracted the offensive smell arising 
 from the blood and ordure of the wild beasts. 
 
 Besides the circular steps, which served as seats, 
 there were others which formed stairs, or passages, and 
 were called the firecinctions, or belts. The passages, 
 radiating towards the arena, intersected the seats in 
 such a manner as to separate them into divisions, which 
 widening as they approached the top, exactly resembled 
 a wedge, and were for that reason called cunei. Near 
 the amphitheatre there was a place called the sfioliarmm, 
 to which those who were killed, or mortally wounded, 
 were dragged by a hook. For a more particular de- 
 scription of amphitheatres, we refer our readers to 
 Civil Architecture. 
 
 Amphitheatres were not invented till a late period in 
 the history of the Romans, and owed their origin to the 
 barbarous disposition of that people, who were fond to 
 excess of sanguinary and horrid entertainments. To the 
 refined and civilized Greeks, combats of gladiators and 
 wild beasts were wholly unknown. But the Romans, 
 who were entirely a martial people, and engaged in per- 
 petual war, contracted such a ferocity of temper, that 
 
 spectacles of carnage and bloodshed became their most 
 favourite pastime. Comi)als of gladiators, which seem 
 to have taken their rise from the custom of sacrificing 
 captives at the tomljs of those who had fallcti in battle, 
 were first exhibited in Rome, by the two Bruti at the 
 funeral of theii' father, in the year of the city 490. Wild 
 beasts were first introduced into the public spectacles 
 by Lucius Mctellus, who, in the year 502, exhibited 
 in the circus the elephants which he had taken from the 
 Carthaginians in Sicily. So devotedly were the Romans 
 attached to these spectacles, that candidates for popular 
 favour could only hope to succeed as they outvied their 
 competitors in exhibiting them with splendour and mag- 
 nificence. Incredible sums were expended in these en- 
 tertainments by Caesar and Pompey, and to them, parti- 
 cularly to Caesar, we owe, if not the invention, at least 
 the first hint of amphitheatres. The circus was found 
 inconvenient for the combats of wild beasts ; for in the 
 games given by Pompey, the elephants had attempted 
 to break down the barriers which confined them ; nor 
 could they be seen equally well from every part of such 
 an extensive building, where the prospect was interrupt- 
 ed by the columns at each extremity of the spina.* To' 
 obviate these inconveniences, Caesar caused the 7nctie 
 or columns, to be removed, and the arena of the circus 
 to be surrounded with a ditch, and suggested the expe- 
 diency of constructing edifices, where the games might 
 be seen in security, and without interruption. 
 
 Caius Scribonius Curio, one of Caesar's friends, wish- 
 ing to excel his contemporaries in novelty, if not in 
 magnificence, is said to have constructed the first build- 
 ing entitled to the name of an amphitheatre. In the 
 games which he presented on occasion of his father's 
 funeral, he caused two large theatres of timber to be 
 erected, with the backs to each other, in which tliea- 
 trical representations were exhibited till noon : the 
 scenery was then removed, and the two theatres, with 
 their crowds of spectators, were wheeled round towards 
 each other till they met, and thus formed an amphithea- 
 tre, where combats of gladiators were continued till the 
 evening. This invention of Curio soon gave place to 
 the construction of rcgvilar amphitheatres, which were 
 at first only temporary fabrics, erected in the Campus 
 Martins, and taken down as soon as the games were 
 ended. When Julius Caesar dedicated his new forum, 
 and the temple of Venus, he gave, among other enter- 
 tainments, combats of gladiators and of wild beasts, for 
 which he erected a hunting theatre, without scenes, and 
 furnished with seats all round. This was the first edi- 
 fice which received the name of amphitheatre, and 
 which detemiined the form of arrangement of these 
 immense structures. The trouble and inconvenience of 
 erecting new amphitheatres whenever the spectacles, to 
 which they were appropriated, were to be presented, 
 must have immediately suggested the expediency of 
 giving them a stronger and more permanent form. Yet, 
 from the time of Julius Csesar till the reign of Vespa- 
 sian, these temporary fabrics were almost the only am- 
 phitheatres known. Augustus, indeed, is said to have 
 intended to build one of stone, but never accomplished 
 that design. Statilius Taurus, one of his courtiers, did 
 erect a stone amphitheatre in the Campus Martins; but 
 it seems to have been so small as to be almost wholly- 
 disregarded; and all the solemn games continued to be 
 
 • The spina was a brick wall, about 12 or 14 feet high, in the middle of the ciixus, which rjin almost its whole length, having at each 
 extremity three columns, or pyramids, called metx, on one base, round which the horses and chariots turned. See Circus. 
 Vol. I. Part II. 4 S
 
 G90 
 
 AxMPHlTHKATllE. 
 
 exhibited in the cii'cus as before. It would seem, too, 
 that only the outer walls were of stouc ; lor, in tlie 
 reign of Nero, all the internal work became a prey to 
 the flames. Many amphitheatres of timber, liowevcr, 
 were erected both at Rome and in the provinces; and 
 though, in general, they were merely temporary, some 
 of them were fixed and permanent structures. In the 
 reign of Augustus, who wished, by amusing the people 
 with these spectacles, to call off their attention from 
 his projects of ambition, several of these fabrics were 
 reared, botli by himself and his governors. Even at 
 Jerusalem, an amphitheatre was constructed by order 
 of Herod, tetrarch of Judsea. But the most remarka- 
 ble wooden amphitheatre was one built by Nero, hi the 
 neighbourhood of the Campus Martins, and described 
 by Tacitus as a very superb and capacious fabric. Near- 
 ly a year was spent in completing it, and it was con- 
 structed of the strongest and largest timber that could 
 be procured. One beam of larch was particularly re- 
 markable ; it was 120 feet in length, and two feet in 
 diameter, from one extremity to the other. Atilius, a 
 freedman, in the reign of Tiberius, erected a large 
 amphitheatre at Fidenoc, which suddenly fell, during 
 the exhibition of the games, and by tliat dreadful acci- 
 dent, 50,000 persons were killed, or dangerously hurt. 
 Near Placentia there was another fabric of this khid, 
 celebrated as the largest in Italy, which was burnt to the 
 ground, wlien that town was besieged in the war be- 
 tween Vitellius and Otho. 
 
 These repeated accidents induced Vespasian to think 
 seriously of building an amphitheatre of stone ; a project, 
 from the completion of which preceding emperors had 
 probably been deterred by its enormous expense. For 
 the situation of this edifice, which he wished to render 
 worthy of the capital of the world, he chose the centre 
 of Rome ; the same spot which Augustus had marked 
 out for a structure of a similar kind, but which he never 
 attempted to execute. The Flavian amphitheatre, which 
 was begun by Vespasian in his eighth consulate, and 
 afterwards completed by Titus, is celebrated by ancient 
 authors as a prodigy of architectural magnificence and 
 skill; and it has been said, perhaps without exaggera- 
 tion, that its expense woidd have sufficed for building a 
 large city. Five thousand animals, or, according to 
 some historians, nine thousand, were destroyed at its 
 inauguration ; and, when the combats were concluded, 
 the arena was suddenly filled with water, on which aqua- 
 tic animals were seen to contend; and these again gave 
 place to a number of vessels, that represented a naval 
 battle. This stupendous fabric was called the Coli- 
 sjeunri; according to some authors, from a colossal sta- 
 tue of Nero, which stood near it, but more probably on 
 accoimt of its colossal and gigantic size. Placed in the 
 centre of the hills of Rome, it towered as high as their 
 loftiest summits. Its seats, or steps, contained eighty- 
 vieven thousand spectators; and if we add, at a very 
 moderate calculation, 11,000, placed on the porticoes 
 above these seats, and 12,000 in the surrounding pas- 
 sages, where moveable scats might be placed, it must 
 have contained not fewer than 110,000 persons, who 
 could behold distinctly the games and combats on the 
 arena. Its form was that of an ellipsis, or oval, whose 
 longer diameter was about 615 feet 6 inches, and its 
 shoiter 510 feet. Of the arena the longer diameter was 
 '.'81 feet, and the shorter 176, thus leaving for tlie seats 
 and galleries a circuit of about 157 feet in breadth. The 
 'vhole externa] circumference was about 1770 feet, co- 
 
 vering a superficies of more than five acres and a halt 
 The external elevation of llie Flavian amphitheatre con- 
 sisted of three stories of arcades, embellished with co- 
 lumns of the Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian orders. Com- 
 pared with this amazing fabric, the most stupendous 
 works of antiquity suik into insignificance. Not even 
 those prodigious piles which were the boast of Egypt, 
 and the wonder of succeeding ages, can once come in- 
 to competition with tht Flavian amphitheatre. They 
 were, indeed, astonishing monuments of the power of 
 human labour, and of the energies of a populous nation, 
 controlled and urged by despotic authority. But they 
 were the works of rude force, the monuments of bar- 
 barism, which delights in what is massy and vast, with- 
 out regard to order, or elegance of design. To construct 
 the Colisaeum, on the other hand, required the utmosi. 
 perfection of architectural skill, as well as the resources 
 of an opulent and mighty empire. With a sublime mag- 
 nificence, which, after the lapse of twelve centuries, i-^ 
 still contemplated with astonishment in its ruins, it uni- 
 ted that elegant simplicity which marks the refinement 
 of cultivated taste. ^Nothing can impart a more elevated 
 idea of human power and ingenuity, than an edifice 
 which rose to the height of 120 feet, and occupied up- 
 wards of five acres of ground ; and which admitted, 
 without confusion, and accommodated easily, more than 
 100,000 persons. If it was completed in the reign of 
 Titus, not more than two years and nine months were 
 occupied in constructing this mighty fabric, the most 
 stupendous that the world ever contained — thus afford- 
 ing a specimen, altogether astonishing, of the skill, the 
 energy, and the resources of the Ron'.ans. Among thr: 
 Goths, who have contributed at various times to destroy 
 this wonderful edifice, our readers will probably hear, 
 with some surprise, the name of Michael Angelo, from 
 whom we might certainly have expected a sacred re- 
 spect for whatever was connected with the fine arts — he 
 carried away almost one half of the outer wall, for the 
 purpose of building the Palazzo Farnese. To prevent 
 such depredations, pope Benedict XIV. consecrated the 
 ruins, and erected several altars, which, previous to the 
 French revolution, were much frequented on Sundays 
 and Fridays. Near the centre, tliere was a small build- 
 ing occupied by a hermit, whose office was to protect 
 tlie sacred pile from the injurious touch of any rude and 
 unhallowed hand. 
 
 The Colisxum became the model to many other am- 
 phitheatres, which were erected by succeeding empe- 
 rors, or by the inhabitants of different countries, who 
 were desirous either to imitate the magnificence, or to 
 enjoy the amusements of the capital. The most re- 
 markable were at Capua and Verona in Italy, at Nismes 
 in Languedoc, at Pola in Istria, and at Italica in Spain. 
 Vestiges of others have been traced at Alba, a small 
 city in Latium, at Otricoli, a town of Umbria, and near 
 the Garigliano, formerly the river Lyris. Some of the 
 cells and arches of an amphitheatre are still to be seen 
 at Puzzuoli; while the ruins of others mjty be recognized 
 at the foot of Mount Cassino, near the house of Varro ; 
 at PcEstum, in Lucania; at Syracuse, Agrigentum, and 
 Catania, in Sicily; at Cortina and Gerapitna, in Candia; 
 at Argos and Corinth, in Greece; and at Aries and Au- 
 tun, in France. In Britain, too, traces of amphitheatres 
 are discernible near Sandwich, in Kent, at Caerleon, in 
 Monmouthshire, (the Isca Silurum of the ancients,) and 
 in various other parts of the kingdom. 
 
 But though amphitheatres were thus numerous, it
 
 AMP 
 
 AMP 
 
 691 
 
 cannot be supposed that maiiyof lliem borc any resem- 
 blance to the magnificence of the Colisiieum, or, indeed, 
 that they were regular edifices at all. The eiiorinous 
 expense of erecting stone buildings of sucli magnitude, 
 would oblige the inhabitants of the provinces to have 
 recourse to every expedient which might enable them 
 to enjoy their favourite diversions at an easier rate. 
 For this purpose, they sometimes chose natural vallies, 
 surrounded with hills, in the declivities of which they 
 cut benches, defended probably with mounds, or ter- 
 races, above the arena — such was the amphitheatre at 
 Corinth. In these natural amphitheatres, benches of 
 stone were sometimes placed on the declivities of the 
 hills, and the ellipsis was completed by works of ma- 
 sonry at the extremities, as in the amphitheatre of Cor- 
 tina, in Candia. Many of them and particularly the 
 Castrensian amphitheatres, were mere excavations, with 
 benches of turf: such was that near Sandwich. In short, 
 of those which we have enumerated, only four, viz. the 
 amphitheatres of Capua, Verona, Nismes, and Autun, 
 appear to have been constructed on the same plan, and 
 embellished in the same manner, as the Colisaeum. An 
 account of these different amphitheatres will be found 
 under the names of the towns in which they stood. 
 
 It is impossible to contemplate without horror the 
 dreadful scenes of carnage which, tor 250 years, dis- 
 graced the amphitheatre, or to regard, without utter 
 detestation, the character of the people, who took plea- 
 sure in spectacles of such monstrous barbarity. Wc 
 may form some idea of the myriads of men and animals 
 destroyed in these houses of slaughter, from one in- 
 stance which is recorded by Dio. He informs us, that, 
 after the triumph of Trajan over the Dacians, specta- 
 cles were exhibited for 123 days; in which 11,000 ani- 
 mals were killed, and 1000 gladiators were matched 
 against one another. Nor was it only malefactors, cap- 
 tives, and slaves, who were doomed to contend in these 
 dveadful games. Free-born citizens hired themselves 
 as gladiators; men of noble birth sometimes degraded 
 themselves so far as to fight on the stage for the amuse- 
 ment of their countrymen; even women, ladies too of 
 high rank, forgetting the native delicacy and the feeble- 
 ness of their sex, strove on the arena for the prize of 
 > aloui" — for the honour of adroitness in murder. A peo- 
 ple thus inured to blood, were prepared for every vil- 
 lany ; nor is it possible to read of the enormities which 
 disgraced the transactions of the later Romans, without 
 ascribing them, in a great measure, to the ferocity of 
 temper, fostered by the shocking amusements of the 
 •amphitheatre. Perhaps it is not too refined to trace 
 back to the same cause the dark and vile dispositions of 
 their descendants, who have been branded, too justly, 
 as little better than a race of assassins. 
 
 Even the progress and the establishment of Christi- 
 anity could not, for some time, overcome the inclination 
 for these sanguinary entertainments. Constantine the 
 Gi-eat had, indeed, prohibited them by law in the eastern 
 empire; and Honorius, in the beginning of the fifth 
 century, banished all professional gladiators from the 
 Roman territorv. Still, however, combats of wild beasts 
 were continued both in the eastern and western em- 
 pires, as far down as the sixth century. About that 
 lime they seem to have been every where abolished ; 
 and the edifices, in which they were exhibited, to have 
 been completely neglected. During the age of chivalry, 
 they were occasionally used as the scenes of judicial 
 combat, or of tilts and tournaments ; but as these cus- 
 
 toms were abolished, amphitheatres were abandoned to 
 neglect and ruin, {ft) 
 
 AMFHITIIEATRE, a name given by the French to 
 that part of the bottom of a theatre, which is opposite 
 to the stage, and is elevated to its height, and which 
 contains paialkl seals placed behind each other, and in- 
 creasing in elevation as they recede. This name is like- 
 wise given to halls, appro])riated to public scientific lec- 
 tures and discourses, whose seats rise above one another, 
 either in a semicircular form, or surrounding the room 
 like the seats of an amphitheatre, (/tt) 
 
 AMPHITHEATRE, in Gardening, a high terrace, 
 ascended by steps eillier straight or circular, and sup- 
 ported by banks and slopes of various forms. This 
 decoration is employed to give regularity to a hill or 
 mountain, which it is not wished to cut, and to support 
 by terraces. It is also used to terminate the view from 
 an alley, or an opening in a thicket, (ft.) 
 
 AMPHITRITE, in Zoology, a genus of worms be- 
 longing to the order MoUusca. Cuvier ranks under 
 this genus the remaining species of Gmelin's genus te- 
 rebella, that had not been taken into the genus aniphi- 
 monc, thus throwing out the terebella tribe altogether. 
 See Helminthology. 
 
 AMPHORA, called Quadranicd by the ancients, an 
 earthen vessel, which was used as a liquid measure by 
 the Greeks and Romans, contaming two urns and 48 
 staries, equal to nearly 7 gallons 1 pint English mea- 
 sure. See Jac. Visclius in ylul. Gell. lib. xviii. c. 1. 
 
 AMPLIFICATION. See RuExonic. 
 
 AMPLITUDE. See Astronomy and Projectiles. 
 
 AMPULLA, among the Romans, was a large vessel 
 used at the baths for the purpose of unction. It is also 
 the name of one of the sacred vessels used by the an- 
 cient catholics, and hence the order of the knights of 
 St Ampulla,* instituted by Clovis I. Their office is to 
 support the canopy, beneath which is carried the am- 
 pulla, out of which the kings of France were anointed 
 at their coronation. See Gaguin. Abnoin, lib. i. cap. 16. 
 Hincmar, in Vita S. Reniigii. (to) 
 
 AMPUTATION, is a surgical operation, in which 
 
 * Every one knows that la saintc amfioule, or the 
 holy amfiulla, was a vial filled with a kind of balsam or 
 oil, with which the kings of France, before the late re- 
 volution, were anointed at their coronation. It is related 
 by some of the ancient chroniclers, that it was brought 
 down from heaven by a dove at the coronation of Clovis 
 I ; but Gregory of Tours and Fortunatus who are the 
 most repvitable among them in point of authorit;-, are 
 silent about it. This traditional belief had grown into 
 a kind of national superstition ; and the holy vial was 
 preserved with religious care in the church of St Re- 
 migius at Rheims, until the year 179 4, when it was de- 
 stroyed with a great number of other more valuable 
 relics, in a paroxysm of revolutionary rage. It is said 
 that Clovis instituted an order of knights in honour of 
 it; but the fact is far from being well autlienticated. 
 However it may be, it is very certain that la &ainte am- 
 poule never was personified under the name of .SY .4iyi- 
 fiulla or any other. We cannot conceive on what autho- 
 rity the writer of the article in the text has transformed 
 a vial of oil into a female saint. If he will take the trou- 
 ble again to consult Hincmar and Almoin, on whose au- 
 thority he appears to rely, he will soon be convinced of 
 his mistake. Dufoxce.mj. 
 
 4 S 2
 
 692 
 
 AMR 
 
 AIMR 
 
 any member is separated from the body. See Sun- 
 
 GERY. 
 
 AMRAS, Ambras, or Ombras, the name of a town 
 in the county of Tyrol, about four miles east from In- 
 spruck ; and also of a strong caslle in the same vicinity, 
 which was formerly a sunmier residence of the arch- 
 dukes of Austria. It is chiefly remarkable for the beauty 
 of its situation, and the valuable collection of paintings 
 and antiquities which it contains. E. Long. 11" 40'. 
 N. Lat. 47° 0'. {^) 
 
 AMRU, or Amhou, a distinguished leader of the Sa- 
 racens, and conqueror of Egypt. He was nearly con- 
 temporary with Mahomet. His mother was a woman 
 of a character so infamous, that, when requested to 
 name his father, she was unable to decide among five of 
 her lovers; but, from the resemblance of the child to 
 Aasi, an illustrious person of the tribe of Koreish, he 
 appears to have been acknowledged and educated as his 
 son. In early life, Amru was tainted with the preju- 
 dices of his kindred, who were idolaters ; and having 
 an inclination to poetry, he indulged himself in writing 
 satirical verses against the doctrine and person of Ma- 
 homet. It was not long, however, before he declared 
 his belief in the mission of that warlike prophet ; and, 
 whether convinced by reason, or gained over by inte- 
 rest, he persevered in his attachment to the new reli- 
 gion with such undeviating uniformity, that it was said 
 of him, " there never was a Moslem more sincere and 
 stedfast in the faith." The proselyte to Mahometanism 
 must draw his sword in its defence. It is required of 
 him, that his belief shall be fixed and implicit ; and also, 
 that he shall zealously endeavour to inci'ease the num- 
 ber of the faithful, by offering to all whom his arm can 
 subdue, the simple conditions of death, tribute, or sub- 
 mission to the prophet. With this dii-ect and effectual 
 logic, Amru was not unacquainted. Havmg gained 
 considerable reputation in Irak, he was appointed by 
 the caliph Omar to serve against the Christians in Pa- 
 lestine, under Obeidah, the leader ot the Arabs in that 
 province ; and, while he distinguished himself by his 
 address and courage in the field, he never lost sight of 
 the great object which all true Moslems are bound to 
 pursue. Safety and freedom were the immediate re- 
 wards of those who acknowledged the authority of Ma- 
 homet. Of the zeal of Amru to increase the number of 
 proselytes, an instance, worthy of notice, is given by the 
 historians of the period in which he lived. As he was 
 advancing to the siege of Cssarea, near which place 
 Constantine, the son of the emperor Heraclius, was 
 posted with a body of troops, this young prince sent 
 some Christian Arabs to examine the camp of the Mos- 
 lems. One of the spies was taken, and instantly cut to 
 pieces by the followers of Amru. But when the account 
 of the fact was brought to the general, he testified the 
 highest disapprobation, and forbade so precipitate an 
 execution of vengeance in all time to come; alleging as 
 a reason to his soldiers, that the persons whom they 
 were about to kill, might choose rather to embrace the 
 Islam, than to suffer death. After this expression of 
 zeal, a conference took place between the opposite lead- 
 ers. The general of the Greeks made overtures towards 
 a pacification ; but his proposals were rejected by Amru, 
 who, declared, that he would listen to no tei-ms of ac- 
 commodation, unless the emperor agreed to adopt the 
 religion of Mahomet, or acknowledge himself the tribu- 
 tary of Omar. Both sides, therefore, prepai'ed for action. 
 Cjesarcafell into the hands of the Arabians, A. D. 638; 
 
 and all the maritime towns of Syria, were subjected to 
 
 the dominion of the caliph. 
 
 Upon the death of Obeidah, the chief command in 
 Palestine devolved upon Amru ; and he had shown him- 
 self to be every way qualified for the high station which 
 he was about to occupy. Not contented, however, with 
 opposing the Christians in Syria, he resolved to advance 
 into Egypt. Accordingly, he left his position at Gaza, 
 and was proceeding to Farmah, or Pclusium, (justly re- 
 garded as the key to that country,) when he was over- 
 taken by a messenger, with a letter from Omar, the 
 contents of which he would not examine till his forces 
 had entered the Egyptian territory. But he liad no 
 sooner reached the vicinity of Farmah, than he assem- 
 bled his officers, and read to them the following man- 
 date, addressed to himself: " If you are still in Syria," 
 said the caliph, " retreat without delay ; but if, at the 
 receipt of this letter, you are within tlie frontiers of 
 Egypt, advance with confidence, and depend on the suc- 
 cour of God and your brethren." Amru declared aloud 
 his resolution to obey. Advancing with confidence, and 
 trusting to the aid which the caliph had pointed out, he 
 quickly reduced Pelusium ; and opened to his followers 
 the whole country, as far as Hcliopolis and the neigh- 
 bourhood of Cairo. From Pelusium, or Farmah, he pro- 
 ceeded to Memphis, which resisted his arms for nearly 
 seven months ; till, threatened by the inundation of the 
 Nde, he roused the courage of his soldiers, and enter- 
 ing the fortress, with the shout of " God is victorious!" 
 made himself master of the place. Here, too, on the 
 eastern bank of the river, lie built the city of Fostat ; 
 the ruins of which are at present distinguished by the 
 name of Old Cairo. After the taking of Memphis, and 
 the subjection of the Coptic Christians to the authority 
 of Omar, Amru drove the fugitive Greeks before him 
 towards Alexandria ; and invested that large and popu- 
 lous city, fuiMiished with all the means of subsistence 
 and defence. The natives of Egypt, anxious for ihe 
 expulsion of their tyrants, devoted their labours to the 
 service of the Arabians ; and the caliph, from the throne 
 of Medina, despatched his messengers, and encouraged 
 his troops to their noblest efforts of valour and skill. 
 On the other hand, the defendants of Alexandria made 
 a vigorous resistance, and by their unvrearied exertions, 
 protracted the siege to the period of fourteen months. 
 At length, however, the Saracens prevailed ; the Greeks 
 were forced to embark their dispirited numbers, and the 
 assailants rushing forward, planted the standard of Ma- 
 homet on the walls of the Egyptian capital. During 
 this memorable siege, the adventurous courage of Amru 
 brought him on one occasion into a situation of great 
 danger. As he was entering the citadel, his troops were 
 driven back, and he remained a prisoner, together with 
 a slave, in the hands of the Christians. He was instant- 
 ly led into the presence of the governor, who was un- 
 acquainted with his rank ; but the haughty mien, and 
 resolute language of the captive, betrayed his superior 
 quality, and an attendant lifted his battle-axe in order to 
 punish him for his insolence. At this moment, the slave, 
 with astonishing presence of mind, struck his master a 
 violent blow upon the face, and commanded him, in an 
 angry tone, to be silent in the company of those whom 
 he ought to respect. The governor was deceived ; he 
 listened to the offer of a treaty, and dismissed the pris- 
 oners, in the hope of concluding the war by an honour- 
 able accommodation. The fate of the Alexandrian li- 
 brary is known to every one who is conversant with an-
 
 AMS 
 
 AMS 
 
 69S 
 
 ticjuity, and has been well described by the learned Abul- 
 pharagius, i^Dyriust. p. 114, vers. Pocuck.) It was the 
 desire ot" Ainru to preserve that noble collection of 
 manuscripts, at the request of Amnionius Fhiloponus 
 the ijraniniarian. But such was the integrity of the 
 Arabian chief, that ne would not alienate the smallest 
 portion of what he conceived to be the properly of the 
 caliph ; and accordingly he wrote to Medina, that the 
 pleasure of Omar might be known. " If tiiese wri- 
 tings," said the caliph, " agree with the book of God 
 they are useless ; and if not, they ought to be destroy- 
 ed." This fanatical sentence was executed with blitid 
 and zealous obedience ; and the volumes were employed 
 to heat tlie batlis of the city. See Alexandiua. 
 
 After the conquest ol Egypt, the fortune of Amru 
 partook of the vicissitudes to which a despotic govern- 
 ment is generally subject. He was removed from the 
 government of Egypt, by the jealousy of Othman, who 
 restored him twice on occasions of emergency, but 
 again disphiced him when the danger was over. On 
 the accession of Ali, he joined the malcontents, and 
 swore allegiance to Moawiyah, the competitor of that 
 distinguished person ; and the sect of the Kharijites 
 having conspired against him, he very narrowly escaped 
 with life. At length, during the caliphate of Moawiyah, 
 he died in his palace on the banks of the Nile, A. D. 
 663, and in the year of the Hegira 43. He was one of 
 the greatest among the Arabs of his time. Quick in 
 apprehension, wise in council, and of matchless bravery, 
 he united in his character every quality which forms a 
 successful leader in war, and an useful governor in peace. 
 The following anecdote, which has been recorded as a 
 proof of his modesty, shows a dignified consciousness of 
 his own merit. When he was on a visit to Medina, the 
 caliph wished to examine the sword which had destroyed 
 so many of the Christian warriors : but Amru, pulling 
 from its scabbard an ordinary cimiter, and, marking the 
 surprise of the caliph, addressed him in the following 
 words : " Alas," said he, " the sword itself, without the 
 p.rm of its master, is neither sharper nor more weighty 
 than the sword of Pharisdak the poet." Gibbon's Hist, of 
 the Rom. Emji. vol. v. p. 331, et seq. Abulpharagius, 
 Dynast, p. 114, versione Pocock. Ocklcy's Hist, of the 
 Saracens, vol. i. and ii. Mod. Univers. Hist.\o\. i. p. 315, 
 et seq. Rendudot, //;■«(■. Alex. Patriarch, -p. \70. Re- 
 land de Jure Militar. Mahommedanorum,\ol. iii. Dissert. 
 p. 37. {h) 
 
 AMSTERDAM, the principal city in Holland, though 
 not the seat of government, i'S situated at the conflux of 
 the river Amstel with a branch of the Zuyder-Zee, 
 which, from its form, is called the Y, or Wye. Its name 
 was originally Amstelredam, the dam or dyke of the Am- 
 stel. With the exception, perhaps, of Petersburgh, there 
 is not a city in Europe, which from a very slender ori- 
 gin, has risen so lately and so rapidly to the height of 
 opulence and grandeur as Amsterdam. Not more than 
 six centuries ago, it consisted of a few misei'able huts, 
 inhabited by fishermen. Its situation, however, was so 
 favourable to commercial enterprize and activity, that it 
 soon became of sufficient importance to be d'stinguished 
 by the earls of Holland with the title and the privileges 
 of a city. To defend it from the assaults of the p ;ople 
 of Utrecht, who were perpetually at variance wiin the 
 Hollanders, and jealous of the rising prosperity of their 
 city, Mary of Burgundy surrounded it, in the year 1490, 
 with a wall of brick, which was soon afterwards burnt 
 to the ground. Not many years after, it was besieged 
 
 by an army from Gueldcrland, which set fire to the 
 shipping in the harbour, though tlie town itself with- 
 stood their attacks. An insurrection was excited in this 
 city about the year 1525, by u pally ol lanulics, led on 
 by John of Lcyden, tiie pretenaeii king uf Munster. At- 
 tackujg the town-iiouse m the nighl-tune, iliey easily 
 overpowered its defenders ; but were, in tlieir turn, de- 
 feated by the citizens, and put to tlie sword. About ten 
 years alter, a more alarming connuolion was raised by 
 the anabaptists, who had entered hito a deep-laid scheme 
 for wresting the government out of the hands of the 
 magistrates. On a day appointed, these entlmsiasts, 
 with Van Geelen at their head, marched to liie town- 
 house, where they fixed their head-quarlers. Tlicy 
 were immediately attacked by the inhabitants, aided by 
 regular troops, and, being completely surrounded, were 
 massacred in the cruellest manner. 
 
 Amsterdam was one of the last cities that embraced 
 the reformed religion ; and when, after a siege of ten 
 months, it was reduced by the Hollanders, an express 
 article of capitulation was, that tlie Roman Catholics 
 should be allowed the unmolested exercise of their re- 
 ligion. This condition was immediately violated, how- 
 ever, by the protestants, who, in the fury of their zeal, 
 broke down the images, subverted the aUars, and ex- 
 pelled from the city the priests, the monks, and the nuns. 
 The advantageous situation of Amsterdam now att.rj.ct- 
 ed crowds ot strangers, not only from the other United 
 Provmces, but from all the countries of Europe. This 
 influx of new inhabitants rendered it necessary, at dif- 
 ferent times, to enlarge the city, and about the year 
 1675 it was increased by one half more than its former 
 size. At present, it covers a surface of about 18,790 geo- 
 metrical feet, and is said to be larger than Haerlem, 
 Leyden, Delft, Rotterdam, and Dordrecht, inclusively, 
 though these are all considerable towns. It is of a se- 
 micircular form, about nine miles and a half in compass, 
 surrounded with a ditch 80 feet wide, full of running 
 water, and with a rampart faced with brick, having 26 
 bastions ; on each of which there has been placed a 
 wind-mill. Towards the land, it has eight magnificent 
 gates of stone, and one towards the shore. 
 
 Nowhere is the power of human industry more stri- 
 kingly displayed than in Amsterdam. The adjacent 
 country, along the banks of the Y, is four or five feet 
 below the level of the river, from which it is preserved 
 by massy and prodigious dikes ; and the town itself is 
 secured from inundation by an immense dam of the 
 same kind. So marshy, too, is its situation, that almost 
 the whole of it is built upon piles of wood ; and the ca- 
 nals, which intersect it, form eighty-two islands, joined 
 to one another by nearly three hundred bridges. These 
 canals, though extremely convenient in the capital of 
 such a commercial country as Holland, are in summer 
 so feculent as to be intolerable nuisances. The green- 
 ness, common to stagnant waters, covers their whole 
 surface, chequered only by the carcasses of animals, and 
 putrifying vegetables of every description. A boat-hook 
 drawn from the bottom, leaves at the top a circle of 
 slime, which remains visible for many minutes. Some 
 of them, however, are less oft'ensive than the rest, and, 
 shaded on both sides with lofty trees, give the town a 
 picturesque and pleasing appearance. Most of these ■ 
 canals are filled by the Amstel, which is itself naviga- 
 ble for ships of considerable burden. Upon this river 
 there is a magnificent bridge, which commands a fine 
 prospect of the city, the .harbour, and the sea. This
 
 C94. 
 
 AMSTERDAM. 
 
 bridge, called the Poul NuuT, is 600 feet long, and 70 
 bi'oad, having iron balustrades on both sides. Ol' its 
 tliirty arches, eleven are very lol'ty, and eight arc entire- 
 ly shut up. Beyond the Pont Neuf is a terrace, or quay, 
 which is one of the few pleasant walks enjoyed by the 
 inhabitants of Amsterdam. On this terrace stands the 
 Admiralty ; an immense building, in the interior of 
 which is tlif dock-yard : here, likewise, is the magazine 
 of the East India Company ; whose perfume affords a 
 grateful contrast to the fetid odour of the canals. 
 
 The streets of Amsterdam are not remarkable either 
 for elegance or cleanliness. In general they arc very 
 narrow ; many of them, indeed, which contain the hous- 
 es of the most opulent merchant, are not more than six- 
 teen or seventeen feet wide. Yet along the banks of the 
 canals there are some streets of uncommon magnificence, 
 calculated to give a stranger a very high opinion of the 
 opulence of their inhabitants. Kiezer's gragt, or em- 
 peror's street, Heeren gragt, or lords' street, and Pris- 
 sen's gragt, or princes' street, are upwards of 140 feet 
 wide, and are lined with houses, whose princely splen- 
 dour would do honour to any town in Europe. All the 
 streets are paved with brick, and have no raised side- 
 path for foot passengers; but as wheel-carriages are 
 neither numerous in this city, nor allowed to be driven 
 with speed, a person may walk here with as much se- 
 curity as on the flag-stone pavements of London. Here 
 are seen none of those noble squares which give so 
 much splendour to some of our own cities ; and indeed 
 the whole town, with the exception of the three streets 
 which we have mentioned, has rather the mean and 
 crowded appearance of a bustling sea-port, than the 
 grand and elegant air of an opulent metropolis. The 
 interior of the houses, however, is sufficiently splendid, 
 decorated very much in the French style, and the sides 
 of the rooms are painted, in general, with a series of 
 landscapes in oil-colours. The environs of this city pre- 
 s'bnt no objects that indicate the vicinity of a great ca- 
 pital ; on every side, the approach to it is by water, ex- 
 cept towards Ouderkirk, to which there is a delightful 
 road through gardens and groves. 
 
 Of the public buildings with which Amsterdam is em- 
 bellished, the first that attracts the notice of a stranger 
 is the Stadthouse, unquestionably one of the most won- 
 derful edifices in the world. The labour, the time, and 
 the expense, which are said to have been necessary to 
 complete it, would appear altogether incredible, were 
 not the highest calculation which has been made of them 
 rendered probable by the magnitude of the building, and 
 the nature of the ground on which it stands. In a coun- 
 try which furnishes no stone, a building two hundred 
 and eighty-two feet in front, two hundred and fifty-five 
 feet in depth, and one hundred and sixteen high, may 
 well be believed to have cost an expense of two mil- 
 lions sterling, especially when we consider that its foun- 
 dation is boggy, and that it rests upon 13,695 mjssy 
 trees or piles. The first pile was driven on the 20th of 
 January 1648, and about eight years after the different 
 colleges of magistrates took possession of their respec- 
 tive apartments, though the roof and dome were not 
 yet completed. John Van Kempen was the principal 
 architect, but acted under the advice and control of 
 four burgomasters. 
 
 The Stadthouse, though a structure of prodigious size, 
 has nothing very magnificent in its external appearance. 
 It is ornamented, indeed, with a few statues of excel- 
 lent sculpture ; but if we except three bronze figures 
 
 representing Justice, Wealth, and Strength, sind a coi- 
 lossal statue of Atlas holding the world, the rest are 
 almost lost to the view in the wide extent of wall on 
 which they arc placed ; while the eye is constantly o- 
 fcndcd by gilded Neptunes, tridents and trumpets, and 
 other ludicrous ornaments, in the true Dutch style. On 
 the top of the edifice there is a tower, which rises fifty 
 feet above the roof, and which contains a great number 
 of bells, the largest of them weighing between six and 
 seven thousand pounds. The chime of these bells, is 
 remarkably harmonious ; they play every quarter of an 
 hour an agreeable air ; and an excellent carrilloneur is 
 engaged to entertain the citizens three times a-weck, 
 wiiose style of execution is heard by a stranger with 
 equal delight and astonishment. He plays by a brass 
 barrel, which is seven feet and a half in diameter, and 
 weighs 4474 pounds. The Stadthouse has seven small 
 porticoes, rtpresentative of the seven provinces, but has 
 no grand entrance ; a defect which is attributed to the 
 cautious foresight of the burgomasters, who superinten- 
 ded the building, that in case of tumult, the mob might 
 thus be prevented from rushing in. 
 
 The interior of the edifice is highly superb. Its prin- 
 cipal apartment is the tribunal, on the basement floor, to 
 which convicts are conducted through a massy folding 
 door, to receive the awful sentence of the law. The 
 walls of this chamber arc of white marble, adorned 
 with bas-reliefs and figures, emblematical of the pur- 
 pose to which it is appropriated. A grand double stair- 
 case leads from the tribunal to the burgher's, or marble 
 hall, a most magnificent apartment, 120 feet long, 57 
 broad, and 80 high; with galleries 21 feet in width on 
 each side, the whole composed of white marble. Bronze 
 gates and railing, which, though massy, are finely exe- 
 cuted, form the grand entrance into this hall ; and over 
 the entrance is a colonade of Corinthian pillars of red 
 and white marble. One end of the room is adorned with 
 a colossal statue of Atlas, supporting on his shoulders 
 the globe, and attended by Vigilance and Wisdom. 
 The celestial and terrestrial globes are delineated upon 
 the floor in three large circles, 22 feet in diameter, and 
 69 in circumference, composed of brass, and various co- 
 loured marbles ; the two external circles representing 
 the two hemispheres of the earth ; the central, the plani- 
 sphere of the heavens. The other apartments worthy 
 of notice, are the burgomasters' cabinet, the burgomas- 
 ters' apartments, the chamber of the treasury ordinary, 
 and the great council of war chamber, and the painter's 
 chamber, in which there is a very long picture by Van- 
 dyke, containing, among other figures, the gray head 
 of an old man of such matchless excellence, that for that 
 head alone, the burgomasters were offered seven thou- 
 sand florins. There is in this chamber another large 
 picture by Vanderheld, representing a feast given by 
 the magistrates of Amsterdam to the ambassadors of 
 Spain, on account of the peace of Munster, and many 
 other fine paintings by Reubens, Jordaans, and Otho 
 Venius. In the second floor, there is a large magazine 
 of arms, which extends the whole length of the build- 
 ing, and contains a curious and valuable collection of 
 ancient and modern Dutch arms. On the top of the 
 building there are six large cisterns of water, intended 
 as a supply in case of fire, to prevent which, the chim- 
 nies are lined with copper. 
 
 One of the courts of the Stadthouse is occupied by 
 the prison, on two sides of which, below ground, are 
 the dungeons, than which nothing can be conceived
 
 AM8TK11DAM. 
 
 (395 
 
 jaorc horrible. It sceais very inconsistent with tlic 
 general mildness of the laws of Holland, that persons 
 accused of trivial crimes, and even sometimes before 
 their guilt is ascertained, sliould be entombed in these 
 subterraneous cells, " fit only to be the reeeiitacle of the 
 dead." It is only ten years since the inhuman practice 
 of torturing was abolished in Amsterdam. The unliappy 
 victim, who refused to acknowledge guilt, of which, 
 perhaps, he was unconscious, had his hands bound be- 
 hind his neck with a cord, which passed through pullies 
 fastened to a vaulted ceiling, by means of which he was 
 jerked up and down, with leaden weights of fifty pounds 
 each, attached to his feet, till anguish overcame his for- 
 titude, and a reluctant confession was extorted from his 
 lips. Sir John Carr, who visited this city in 1806, saw 
 the iron work by which this infamous process was eflf'ect- 
 cd, still adhering to the walls of the torture chamber. 
 Yet the Dutch are shocked by the sanguinary nature 
 of the criminal laws of England; and with them, capi- 
 tal punisiiments are so rare, that from 1799 to 1806, 
 only nine malefactors were executed in their metro- 
 polis. 
 
 On the ground-floor of the Stadthousc are the strong 
 apartments which formerly contained the vast treasures 
 of the bank, and its various offices. Before the war with 
 France, it was a bank of deposit, and was supposed to 
 contain the greatest quantity of bullion in the world. 
 Its pile of precious metal was estimated at the enor- 
 mous sum of 40,000,000/. sterling. 
 
 The beurs, or exchange, is a large, though plain 
 building, in the form of an oblong square, constructed 
 of free stone, and founded on 2000 piles of wood. It is 
 about 250 feet in length, and 140 in breadth. Twenty- 
 six marble columns support its galleries, which are en- 
 tered by a superb staircase, leading from the gate. 
 The arsenal for their men of war is 200 feet long, and 
 22 feet bi'oad. On the top of the building there is a 
 conservatory of water, which holds 1500 tons, and from 
 which the water may be conveyed by leaden pipes into 
 16 different places. 
 
 Of the public institutions of Amsterdam, the most re- 
 markable are the rasphouse, and the workhouse. In 
 the former, offenders, whose crimes are not capital, are 
 condemned to saw logs of wood ; and when they are in- 
 dolent or refractory, they are shut up in a cellar, into 
 which water is allowed to run, so that if they do not 
 work at the pump, they must be drowned. It is seldom 
 necessary, however, to have recourse to this mode of 
 punishment. An annual report of the conduct of these 
 prisoners is given in to the magistrates, and by that re- 
 port the term of their confinement is regulated. The 
 VTork-house, or spin-house as it is sometimes called, is 
 an establishment unparalleled, perhaps, in the world. 
 It is a very large building, appropriated to purposes 
 both of correction and of charity. In a large room, 
 clean and well ventilated, women whose offences have 
 not been of a very aggravated nature, are employed in 
 sewing, spinning, or other branches of female industry. 
 Convicts of the same sex arc confined in another apart- 
 ment, which is secured by massy iron railing and gra- 
 ted windows, and furnished with scourges, irons for the 
 legs, and other instruments of punishment, which are 
 very readily employed on the slightest appearance of 
 insubordination. These women are always kept apart 
 from the rest, and under the superintendcncy of a gov- 
 erness are engaged in various useful employments. 
 Young ladies of respectable, and even high families arc 
 
 sometimes sent to tlie work-house, by their parents or 
 Iriends, for undutil'ul behavour, or any domestic ofl'ence. 
 They are compelled to wear a particular dress, to work 
 a stated number of hours a-day, and even occasionally 
 to submit to the discipline of the scourge. Husbands, 
 who have to complain of the extravagance or dissipa- 
 tion of their wives, may send them to acquire more so- 
 ber habits in the work-house ; while the ladies, on their 
 part, on well authenticated complaints of the misconduct 
 of their husbands, may have them acommodatcd with 
 lodgings in the same place, for several years together. 
 Their allowance of food is abundant, and its quality good; 
 and there are spacious courts within the building, in 
 which they are permitted to walk for a certain time 
 each day. The wards are kept locked, and no person 
 can obtain admittance without the special permission of 
 the proper officer. Besides these apartments appropria- 
 ted to ofienders, there are wards for men, and school- 
 rooms for a great number of children, who arc main- 
 tained and educated under the same roof. The annual 
 expense of the institution is estimated at 100,000 florins. 
 
 There is an association peculiar to Amsteidam, and 
 well deserving of notice, which is somewhat like a nun- 
 nery, and is called the Society of the Bcguinn.* The la- 
 dies of this sisterhood reside in a largo building appro- 
 priated to their order, which is surrounded with a wall 
 and a ditch, has a church within, and, in sliort, resem- 
 bles a little town. They arc under very few restrictions, 
 are distinguished by no peculiar dress, mingle with the 
 inhabitants of the city, and may leave llie sisterhood 
 and marry when they please. While they belong to the 
 order, however, they are oljliged to attend prayers at 
 stated times, and to be within the convent every even- 
 ing at a certain hour. They must be either unmarried, 
 or widows without children ; and the only certificate re- 
 quired, before they are admitted, is, that their behaviour 
 has been irreproachable, and that they have an income 
 adequate to their support. Each of them has a sepa- 
 rate apartment, witli a small flower-garden ; and, upon 
 the whole, the establishment may be considered as " a 
 social retirement of amiable women, for the purpose of 
 enjoying life in an agreeable and blameless manner." 
 
 Tlie hospitals, and other charitable institutions of this 
 city, which are numerous, are maintained partly by vo- 
 luntary contributions, and partly by taxes imposed on 
 the public diversions. Tlie management of th.esc cha- 
 rities is intrusted to officers called deacons, and to gov- 
 ernors selected from the most respectable inhabitants, 
 and nominated by the magistrates. 
 
 Amsterdam has the honour of being the first city in 
 which a society was formed for the recovery of drowned 
 persons. In the year 1767, a number of the wealthy 
 inliabitants, struck with the numerous instances, in 
 which persons, who had fallen into the water, were lost 
 through wantof proper treatment when brought on shore, 
 entered into an association for the benevolent purpose 
 of rescuing such sufferers from a prematm-e death. 
 Their scheme was prosecuted with the utmost zeal, and 
 was eagerly encouraged by the magistrates. Their first 
 object was to instruct the lower classes of the commu- 
 
 * The word Begiimes was formerly in France gene- 
 rally applied to nuns of every description, by way of 
 nickname. This denomination arose probably from a 
 cap called beguin, which they formerly wore. 
 
 DupoxcE.^u.
 
 696 
 
 AMSTERDxV.M. 
 
 nity by what treatment to restore the suspended anima- 
 tion; their next, to encourage them, by proper rewards, to 
 pursue the methods recommended ; and such was tlieir 
 success, that, in llic space of four years, not fewer than 
 150 persons were restored throughout the United Pro- 
 vinces, by llie means which they had pointed out. 
 
 But while we pay this tribute to the humanity of the 
 Dutch, displayed in their public cliarities, we cannot 
 too strongly reproliate that mercantile spirit which tole- 
 rates and even encourages vice, for the sake ot the 
 revenue which it yields. There cannot be imagined 
 scenes of greater profligacy and wretchedness than the 
 sJiicl-Ziouses, or licensed brothels, which are common in 
 Amsterdam and all the cities of Holland. The keepers 
 of these houses, like fiends of darkness, lie constantly 
 in wait for some female victim, whom they may either 
 decoy or drag into their toils. Their usual mode of se- 
 duction is, to approach some girl whose extravagance 
 has involved her in difficulties ; they affect to commise- 
 rate her situation, offer her money for her present re- 
 lief, or her future exigencies ; she becomes their debtor ; 
 in a short time they seize upon her person, and bear her 
 in triumph to their bagnio, where she is confined as a 
 prisoner and a slave, and never suffered to pass the 
 threshold, until she is enabled to redeem herself out of 
 the wages of prostitution. So familiar ai-e these scenes 
 of complicated villany, that they are beheld with com- 
 plete indifference ; and the severity of tlie law is evaded 
 by an annual premium paid to government. 
 
 In a city so grossly mercantile as Amsterdam, one 
 ■would hardly expect that science or literature would 
 meet with much encouragement; yet it can boast of 
 several literary societies, which are maintained with 
 liberality and spirit. Its principal public institute, 
 called Feli.x Meritis, is supported by private subscrip- 
 tions, and is held in a large building, containing some 
 fine apartments devoted to philosophy, music, and the 
 arts. 
 
 Before the French obtained possession of Holland, 
 every religion was tolerated in Amsterdam ; but none 
 but members of the established church, which was Cal- 
 vinistic, were allowed to hold any office under govern- 
 ment. Two pastors were assigned to each church in the 
 establishment, all of whom enjoyed equal and respecta- 
 ble salaries. Here the English had three places of 
 worship; one for the Presbyterians, whose clergymen 
 were paid by the magistracy ; another for the church of 
 England, the expense of which was defrayed by his 
 Britannic majesty ; and a third for the Brownists, whose 
 ministers were maintained by their congregations. These 
 churches were said to comprehend about a third part 
 of the population ; the Roman Catholics, who had twenty- 
 seven places of worship, were supposed to amount to 
 another third ; and the remainder of the inhabitants 
 were included under the denomination of Jews, Luthe- 
 rans, Anabaptists, Arminians, &c. None of the churches 
 are conspicuous for their structure, except the New 
 Church, which was begun towards the commencement 
 of the fifteenth century, and is said not to have been 
 finished for 100 years. Its pulpit is adorned with vari- 
 ous specimens of sculpture ; on its windows are seen 
 some fine paintings ; but what particularly attracts at- 
 tention in this church, is its organ, whose size and 
 powers of execution have been greatly admired. It has 
 52 whole stops, besides half stops, with two rows of 
 keys for the feet, and three rows for the hand, and a set 
 of pipes that counterfeit a chorus of human voices. 
 
 Since the revolution, all the clergy, without exception, 
 receive fixed salaries, which are raised amongst the in- 
 hal)itants of the parish in which they officiate, each sect 
 being assessed for the maintenance of its own minister. 
 Parish registers of births, deaths, and marriages, are 
 regularly kept, and each parish maintains its own poor, 
 under the control of a council. 
 
 The senate or council entnisted with the government 
 of Amsterdam, consists of thirty-six members, who re- 
 tain their seats during life. These senators were origi- 
 nally chosen by the whole body of burghers; but, rather 
 more than two centiu-ies ago, this privilege was con- 
 ferred on the senators themselves, who now fill up the 
 vacancies in their number by a plurality of their own 
 voices. Previous to the election of the twelve echevinn, 
 or burgomasters, the senate nominates a double number 
 of candidates, out of whom the burghers must make 
 their choice. These burgomasters are the chief ma- 
 gistrates of Amsterdam ; four are appointed annually to 
 execute the duties of the office, and are called burgo- 
 masters regent. The jurisdiction of each continues for 
 three months, and may be compared to that of the lord 
 mayor of London. They have the sole disposal of offi- 
 ces which fall vacant during the term of their authority; 
 they superintend all public works, and the keys of the 
 bank of the city are committed to their custody. Three 
 of these burgomasters are discharged every year, and 
 three new ones are electedto supply their places. The 
 new burgomasters constitute a college of justice, from 
 whose decisions, in criminal cases, there is no appeal; 
 but civil causes may be referred from this tribunal to the 
 council of the province. 
 
 It is remarkable, that though Amsterdam yields a 
 revenue of 1,600,000/. a year, which is considerably 
 more than that of all the other provinces together, it 
 holds only the fifth place in the assembly of the states of 
 Holland, and possesses no other privilege than that of 
 sending four members to the assembly, while the other 
 cities send only two. From the great amount of its re- 
 venue, we may form some idea of the opulence of this 
 city, which, before it fell into the hands of the French, 
 was, without doubt, one of the richest in the world. 
 Every wind wafted into its harbour vessels fraught with 
 the varied produce of all the regions of the globe ; and 
 while its own colonies supplied it with abundance of the 
 most valuable commodities, its ships were employed in 
 the carrying ti-ade of other nations, so that it became as 
 it were the storehouse of the world. This pre-eminence 
 it owed not more to the industry of its inhabitants than to 
 its advantageous situation ; for it has an easy connection 
 with the other towns of the province, and with all the 
 ports of North Holland, Friesland, Overyssel, and 
 Guelderland. Its port is a mile and a half in length, 
 and so wide that though both sides are thronged with 
 vessels, the channel in the middle is at least as broad as 
 the Thames'at London bridge. The fonn of the port, 
 too, is particularly advantageous for a display of the 
 shipping, which, from a fine bay in the Zuyder-Zee, 
 may be seen nearly at one glance, forming an extensive 
 floating city, while their masts resemble a thick forest. 
 On this side the city is enclosed by double rows of piles, 
 connected by large horizontal beams. Between these 
 piles are openings through which the ships pass, and 
 which are shut every evening at the ringing of a bell. 
 
 For the encouragement of the navy there is a marine 
 school, into which the children of citizens of all classes 
 are admitted from seven to twelve years, upon the pay-
 
 AMS 
 
 AMU 
 
 (it>'t 
 
 itimU of a very small sum annually. Tliis seminary was 
 originally insututed, antl is slill supporlcd by the pa- 
 triotism of a few wealthy individuals. 
 
 The population of Amsterdam in 1806, was estimated 
 at about 300,000 persons; it has a militia consistuig of 
 from 15,000 to 18,000 men; a city guard composed of 
 1400 soldiers, and a night watch who patrole the streets, 
 and proclahn the hour. Besides these, there are watch- 
 men stationed at all the church steeples, who sound a 
 trumpet every half hour, and in case of fire give the 
 alarm by ringing a bell. Amsterdam is distant 44 leagues 
 from Brussels, 49 from Liege, and 112 from Paris.* 
 N. Lat. 52° 22' 45". E. Long. 4° 45' 30". {y.) 
 
 AMSTERDAM, an island in the South I^acilic Ocean, 
 now called Tongataboo. Sec Tongataboo. 
 
 AMSTERDAM, an uninhabited island in the frozen 
 Sea, near the west coast of Spitzbergen ; this is also the 
 name of another island in the Gulf of Manar, near the 
 west coast of Ceylon, E. Long. 8° 1'. N. Lat. 9° 50'; and 
 of another in the Chinese Sea, between Japan and the 
 island Formosa. 
 
 AMSTERDAM, an island in the Indian sea. E. Long. 
 76° 54'; S. Lat. 38° 42'. Part of the crew of an Ameri- 
 can vessel, who had been left on this island for the pur- 
 pose of collecting the skins of seals and sea-lions, with 
 which its shores abound, were found by the vessel which 
 went out with lord Macartney and his suite to China in 
 1793. From the marks of volcanic eruption which ap- 
 peared in every part of it, Dr GiUan was led to con- 
 clude, that this island was produced by subterraneous 
 fire. There are on its western and south-western sides, 
 four small cones regularly formed, in the craters of 
 which the lava and other volcanic substances are evi- 
 dently of recent formation ; and on the eastern side there 
 is a crater, now full of water, of such an astonishing 
 size as considerably to exceed in diameter those of jEtna 
 and Vesuvius. Their intense heat, and the cjuantily of 
 elastic vapour which continued still to issue through 
 numberless crevices, left no doubt, that the four small 
 cones had been in a state of eruption a very short time 
 before they were visited by Dr Gillan. The soil through- 
 out the island is so light and spongy, that the foot sinks 
 deep at every step ; and one spot near the centre, ex- 
 tending about 200 yards in length, and somewhat less in 
 breadth, is so very soft, that the utmost caution is neces- 
 sary in walking over it. Here the heat is so great as to 
 prevent vegetation. From this spot a hot fresh spring 
 is supposed to derive its source, working its way through 
 the interstices of the lava to the great crater, and burst- 
 ing out a little above the water which covers its bottom. 
 The soil here is a kind of mud or paste, composed of 
 the ashes moistened by the stream which constantly 
 rises from below; when this mud, which is scalding 
 hot, is removed, vapour issues forth copiously, and with 
 violence. All the hot springs, except one, are brackish. 
 One spring, which issues from. the high ground and 
 ridges of the crater, instead of boiling upwards, like 
 the other, through the stones and mud, flows down- 
 wards in a small stream, with considerable velocity ; 
 its temperaturo did not exceed 112 degrees; it was a 
 pretty strong chalybeate ; the ochre which it deposited 
 
 * Bonaparte, by his late decree annexing Holland to 
 France, has declared Amsterdam to be the third city of 
 the French empire. Rome is the second. 
 
 DuPONCEAU. 
 
 Vol. L Part U. 
 
 had encrusted the sides of the rock from which it issued, 
 and of the cavity into which it fell; yet the seamen 
 made use of it without the slightest inconvenience. This 
 island is upwards of four miles in lengtii, about two 
 miles and a half in its greatest TMcadth, and eleven miles 
 in circumference; comprehending a surface of 5120 
 acres, nearly the whole of which is covered with a very 
 fertile soil. On the east side, the great crater forms a 
 harbour, tiie entrance to which is tieepening annually, 
 and might, without much laliour, be made fit for the re- 
 ception of large ships. The tides How in and out, in 
 the direction of south-cast by south, and north-cast by 
 north, at the rate of three miles an hour; and the water 
 is eight or ten fathoms deep, almost close to the edge 
 of the crater. On every other side the island is inac- 
 cessible. (^) 
 
 AMULET, a preservative against misfortune or dis- 
 ease, worn about the neck, or attached to any other part 
 of the body. 
 
 Some amulets are mere charms, olhersmay justly be 
 considered as medicines. The use of the former has 
 prevailed in all ages, and among all nations. The great 
 variety in their form and substance may, in general, be 
 traced to the religious opinions of the different nations 
 among whom the several kinds of amulets had their 
 origin. In the earlier ages, when the belief in a plu- 
 rality of deities formed a part of the popular creed, 
 those who were anxious to be under the protection of 
 any tutelary god, would endeavour to secure his favour 
 by acts significant of their peculiar attachment to him. 
 Of these acts none could perhaps he more expressive 
 than the assumption of some badge or symbol, which 
 ostensibly declared them the devoted servants of the 
 power whom they revered. They inscribed upon vari- 
 ous substances the insignia of their invisible protector, 
 and the particular expressions by which he was sup- 
 posed to be rendered most propitious. Such amulets 
 were much esteemed by several ancient nations, espe- 
 cially the Persians and Egyptians. 
 
 The dreams of the astrologers gave rise to another 
 species of amulets. Certain aspects of the heavens were 
 supposed to have a benign influence on human affairs; 
 persons born during these aspects were fortunate, medi- 
 cines then administered were peculiarly efficacious, and 
 amulets, then formed, received from the influence of 
 the planets a virtue by which they insured the health 
 and prosperity of their wearers. In the formation of 
 astrological amulets, particular attention was paid to the 
 age of the moon. Various gems were employed as 
 amulets by the ancients ; some were conceived to change 
 their colour upon the approach of any poison ; others 
 were considered as specifics against the bite of venom- 
 ous animals; and others, by means of hidden sympa- 
 thies with different parts of the body, cured the several 
 maladies to which they were subject. This last class 
 of amulets properly belongs to natural magic. When the 
 Christian religion overthrew Polytheism, the ancient 
 religious amulets were supposed to derive their efficacy 
 either from some mystic power in the character inscribed 
 on them, or from the agency of malevolent spirits. Their 
 use was accordingly condemned by pious Christians. 
 But the habit of confiding in amulets was inveterate in 
 many of the converts. Tliis, combined with the strong 
 propensity, however, which men have in all ages shown 
 to conciliate the favour of heaven, rather by apparent 
 zeal and external ceremonies, than by the exercise of 
 virtue and genuine pietv, compelled the earlier ecclesi- 
 4T
 
 698 
 
 AMU 
 
 AMtJ 
 
 astics to tolerate the use of amulets. Their exertions 
 were therefore liniited to the prevention of idolatry or 
 witchcraft. The place of heathen charms was soon 
 supplied by a profusion of Christian amulets. The figure 
 of the cross, particular passages of scripture, the relics 
 of martyrs, images of saints, he. were considered as 
 preservatives from disease, witchcraft, and misfortune ; 
 even the ancient amulets were sanctified by the addition 
 of some figures or expressions borrowed from Christia- 
 nity, and rendered more powerful by combining the se- 
 veral kinds together. In latter times the church con- 
 verted these follies to its own advantage; the pope 
 especially claims the power of making anmlets, and for- 
 merly considered the spunge which wiped his table as 
 a gift worthy of being sent to crowned heads. 
 
 The Protestant reformers brought religious amulets 
 into disrepute with their followers; and the light of sci- 
 ence has gradually shown the efficacy of the other kinds 
 of amulets to depend entirely on the power of the ima- 
 gination. Enlightened persons are in general convinced, 
 that a prudent and vigorous use of natural means, forms 
 the only anmlet which can ward off misfortune or dis- 
 ease. 
 
 Medical amulets, though by no means potent reme- 
 dies, hardly merit the total contempt with which they 
 are now treated. The effluvia of various substances 
 may, it is well known, by theii- action on the skin, or by 
 being inhaled into the lungs, and thus received into the 
 system, frequently produce salutary effects on tho hu- 
 man constitution. They are also capable of acting as 
 preservatives against infection, either by destroying the 
 virus, or by preventing a predisposition in the body, to 
 be affected by its presence. An amulet is the least 
 troublesome form in which these medicines can be ad- 
 hibited; but unction, fumigation, or inhaling air satu- 
 rated with these effluvia, are infinitely more efficacious. 
 
 W 
 
 AMURATH, or Morad I. the fourth emperor of the 
 
 Turks, succeeded his father Orchan in the 76Ist year of 
 the Hegira, the 1360th of the Christian sera. Inheriting 
 all the martial ardour of his ancestors, he pursued \yith 
 unrelenting eagerness their schemes of hostility against 
 the Grecian empire; and uniting counsel with bravery, 
 he formed some excellent institutions, which tended to 
 strengthen his own dominions, and to augment and im- 
 prove his army. To him is ascribed the first appoint- 
 ment of the S/ia/iis or Turkish horsemen, and the divi- 
 sion of the provinces into Timars. A Timar is assigned 
 to every Spahi for his support, with this condition, that 
 he shall be prepared to mount his charger at the sul- 
 tan's call, and to range himself under his proper stan- 
 dard. Every conquered province is distributed in this 
 manner among the soldiers ; and thus, as the sultans 
 advance their conquests, they at once deprive the van- 
 quished of the means of future resistance, increase in- 
 definitely their military force without any additional ex- 
 pense to the state, and by giving the soldiers an imme- 
 diate interest in the defence of their new dominions, 
 secure them in the most effectual manner against every 
 Invader. The first body of Janizaries was likewise 
 formed by Amurath. When he had subdued the Scla- 
 vonian nations between the Danube and the Adriatic, 
 the Bulgarians, Servians, Bosnians, and Albanians; he, 
 by a dexterous policy, converted these warlike tribes, 
 whose incursions had long annoyed the Ottoman empire, 
 
 into its firmest and most faithful protectors. According 
 to the Mahometan law, the sultan is entitled to a fifth 
 part of the spoils and captives. In this right Amurath 
 selected the stoutest and most handsome of the Chris- 
 tian youth, and, causing them to be instructed in the 
 Mahometan religion, disciplined to obedience, and 
 trained to arms, he formed them into a body oT militia, 
 which was named and consecrated by a dervise, revered 
 for his sanctity and supernatural powers. The saint, 
 when they were marshalled before him, stretched his 
 sleeve over the head of the foremost soldier, and thus 
 invoked in their behalf the blessing of heaven ; " Let 
 them be called yenifi clieri (ov new soldiers) ; may their 
 countenance be ever bright, their hands victorious, their 
 sword keen; may their spear always hang over the head 
 of their enemies, and wherever they go, may they re- 
 turn with a white face."* Every sentiment of enthu- 
 siasm, and every mark of royal favour was employed to 
 inspire the Janizaries with martial ardour; and though 
 their number was at first inconsiderable, they soon be- 
 came the sti'ength and the pride of the Ottoman armies, 
 and often the terror of the sultans themselves. By their 
 assistance, Amurath was enabled to extend his con- 
 quests both in Europe and Asia; but after an uninter- 
 rupted course of success, a powerful league was formed 
 against him by the Wallachians, Hungarians, Dalma- 
 tians, Triballians, and Arnauts, under the command of 
 Lazarus, prince of Servia. In the battle of Cossova, the 
 fortune of Amurath again prevailed; Lazarus was de- 
 feated, and taken prisoner; the league of the Sclavoniau 
 tribes was broken, and their independence finally crush- 
 ed. The sultan, however, did not live to enjoy his suc- 
 cess; as he walked over the field, surveying tfie slain, a 
 Servian soldier started from the crowd of dead bodies, 
 and pierced him in the belly with a mortal wound. Ac- 
 cording to other accounts, however, he was stabbed in 
 his tent by a Croat; and to this accident is ascribed the 
 precaution of pinioning, as it were, between two attend- 
 ants, the arms of an ambassador when introduced into 
 the sultan's presence. 
 
 Amurath possessed all the qualities of a great mo- 
 narch. Fond as he was of conquest, he was yet mild ui 
 his disposition, and conciliating in his manners ; nor did 
 his love of war ever betray him into neglect of the true 
 interests of his wide empire. He was a model of tem- 
 perance, a patron of learning, a friend to virtue ; but his 
 frequent absence from the mosque at the hours of wor- 
 ship gave offence to the zealous Moslems, and the mufti 
 had the firmness to correct his negligence, by refusing 
 to admit his testimony in a civil cause. This freedom, 
 instead of being resented, wrought a due reformation in 
 the sentiments of Amuratli, who, to atone for his trans- 
 gression, erected a magnificent mosque at Adrianople, 
 which he had fixed upon as the place of his residence. 
 His death took place in the 71st year of his age, and 
 the 30th of his reign, A. D. 1589. [k) 
 
 AMURATH, or Morad II. the tenth of the Turkish 
 emperors, was the eldest son of Mahomet I. whom he 
 succeeded in the 824th year of the Hegira, A. D. 1421. 
 His reign was disturbed in its commencement by tu- 
 mults and war. His uncle Mustapha, the youngest of 
 the sons of Bajazet, became his rival for the throne; 
 and having made himself master of Gallipoli, entered 
 Adrianople in triumph, where he was solemnly crowned. 
 Amurath hastened to oppose him, and, besieging Adri- 
 
 » .\mong the Turks vihltc and black are proverbial terms of praise and reproach.
 
 AMUR ATI I. 
 
 69d 
 
 anople with vigour, compelled his uncle to fly to the 
 mountains, where he was overtaken and slain. To re- 
 venge himself upon John Palaeologus, the Greek em- 
 peror, who had supported Mustapha in liis rebellion, 
 the sultan immediately invested Constantinople ; but the 
 vigorous resistance of the inhabitants obliged him to 
 raise the siege, and to hearken to proposals for peace. 
 Scarcely had he returned from this enterprize, when a 
 new rebellion was excited Ijy Mustapha, his younger 
 brother, who had been instigated to revolt liy the empe- 
 ror, and the prince of Caramania. The sultan found 
 means to bribe Mustapha's governor, who informed him 
 exactly of all his movements and schemes; and the un- 
 fortunate prince, being thus surprized, was strangled in 
 the presence of his brother. The Greek and the Cara- 
 raanian, to obviate the resentment of the injured sultan, 
 sued submissively for peace, which they obtained on the 
 most severe and humiliating terms. Among these it 
 was stipulated, that the Greeks should demolish the 
 great wall, six miles in length, which secured the isth- 
 mus of Corinth, and which had been built with the ex- 
 press consent of sultan Mahomet. 
 
 These internal commotions and foreign wars induced 
 Amurath to direct his attention to the state and disci- 
 pline of his army. Every spahi that ventured, wlien 
 summoned to muster, to send his servant, instead of 
 coming in person, or that did not appear with proper 
 equipage, and range himself under his proper standard, 
 was immediately deprived of his timar, and of every 
 military privilege ; and that the Janizaries might be 
 completely devoted to the sultan, he ordered that they 
 should all be the children of Christians, and should be 
 taken from their parents while yet too young to have 
 imbibed any religious partiality; and, being maintained 
 and educated in the seraglio, under the immediate care 
 of the sultan himself, should be accustomed to regard 
 him as their only parent. By these regulations, the 
 Turkish army was rendered the finest in the world ; 
 and in the hands of such an enterprizing and warlike 
 monarch as Amurath, became the dread and the scourge 
 of every neighbouring country. The Greek emperor 
 and the Venetian republic were in their turns assailed 
 and conquered ; the sovereign of Albania was compel- 
 led to surrender his capital, and to give as hostages his 
 three sons, one of whom was the celebrated Scander- 
 beg; and the rebellion of Karaman Ogli was speedily 
 quelled. In his expedition against Hungary he was 
 less successful ; his army was repeatedly routed by 
 John Hunniadcs, governor of Transylvania, who forced 
 him to raise the siege of Belgrade ; and when he made 
 a second irruption into the Hungarian dominions, he was 
 again defeated by the same able general. Servia was 
 more easily subdued ; but was restored by Amurath 
 when he formed a treaty of peace with Hungary and 
 Poland ; on which occasion it was stipulated, that nei- 
 ther party should cross the Danube, to carry war into 
 the dominions of the other. 
 
 Having thus secured the tranquillity of his empire, 
 Amurath resolved to withdraw from the tumult and the 
 glare of public life, into the still shade of retii'ement. 
 " Were not his motives," says Mr Gibbon, " debased 
 l)y an alloy of superstition, we must praise the royal 
 philosopher, who, at the age of forty, could discern the 
 vanity of human greatness. Resigning the sceptre to 
 his son, he retired to the pleasant residence of Magne- 
 sia; but he retired to the society of saints and hermits." 
 For ourselves, we must own, that our admiration of the 
 
 royal philosopher's magnanimity is rather heightened 
 by the religious sentiments which mingled with his 
 contempt of human greatness. It were too much to 
 expect, that the descendant of Mahomet, tlie sworti 
 protector and champion of his religion, should be supe- 
 rior to the superstitions by which that religion is de- 
 based ; but surely a sovereign, disgusted with the va- 
 nity of even imperial grandeur, could not employ liis 
 moments of retirement in a more rational or a more 
 dignihed manner, than in acknowledging, by habitual 
 homage, the infinite majesty of Him, who is Lord of 
 Lords, and King of Kings. 
 
 From tliis hallowed retreat, Amurath was called, by 
 the dangers and the solicitations of his people, to place 
 hhnself again at the head of his army. Ladislaus, king 
 of Hungary, had been prevailed upon by the casuistry of 
 pope Eugenius, and of his legate cardinal Julian Caesa- 
 rini, to violate the treaty of peace with Amurath, which 
 he had sanctioned by a solemn oath, and had penetrated 
 into the Turkish dominions, cari-ying terror and desola- 
 tion wherever he appeared. Amurath hastened from 
 Adrianople to check his destructive career, and having 
 come up with him at Varna, immediately gave him bat- 
 tle. Victory seemed at first to declare in favour of the 
 Christians; the Turkish wings were broken, and Amu- 
 rath himself regarded his ruin as inevitable. In this 
 emergency, the sultan is said to have pulled from his 
 bosom the treaty of peace which he had made with the 
 Hungarian monarch, and displaying it in the front of the 
 ranks, raised his eyes and his hands towards heaven, 
 and called upon Jesus Christ, if he were really a God, 
 to avenge the dishonour which the Christians had done 
 him, by violating the league to which they had sworn 
 by his sacred name. Scarcely had he uttered this 
 prayer, when the vigour of the Christians began to re- 
 lax ; and they gave way to the overwhelming numbers 
 of their enemies, still fighting valiantly, however, as 
 they retreated. The battle was yet in suspense, when 
 the young king of Hungary, in spite of the remonstrance 
 and opposition of his general, Hunniadcs, rushed among 
 the thickest ranks of the enemy, and cut his way through 
 till he came to the spot where Amurath was surrounded 
 by his Janizaries. A spear from the hand of the sidtan* 
 pierced the horse of the youthful warrior, who, falling 
 among the feet of the infantry, was instantly trodden to 
 death. The fall of Ladislaus completed the consterna- 
 tion of his army, which gave way in all directions, and 
 ten thousand Christians were left on the field. Nor had 
 the Turks much reason to rejoice in the victory; their 
 loss was even greater than that of their enemies ; and 
 Amurath himself confessed, that such another battle 
 would be his ruin. 
 
 From the battle of Varna, the sultan again retired to 
 the stillness and solitude of Magnesia; but his tran- 
 quillity and devotion were once more interrupted by 
 internal commotions. The Janizaries, in tlie insolence 
 of victory, disdained to obey a young and inexperienced 
 ruler; Adrianople became a prey to their violence and 
 licentiousness ; and Amurath was implored, by the una- 
 nimous voice of the divan, to appear in his capital, and 
 quell the insurrection. The presence of their victo- 
 rious sultan instantly overawed the tumultuous Janiza- 
 ries; but Amurath, afraid again to resign the reins of 
 government to the feeble hand of his son, was oblipjed 
 reluctantly to support the burden of royalty; and having 
 married Mahomet to the princess of Elbistan, he ap- 
 pointed him to the vice-royalty of Asia Minor. The 
 4 f 2
 
 700 
 
 AMY 
 
 AXA 
 
 revolt of Scanderbeg, governor of Epirus, forced him to 
 take the field with an army of 60,000 horse, and 40,000 
 Janizaries; but he was defeated before the wails of 
 Croya, from which he retired with loss and dishonour. 
 Encouniged by the disaster of the sultan, the Hunga- 
 rians renewed their invasion of his territories. Aniu- 
 rath fell in with them at Cossova, where his predecessor 
 of the same name had conquered and died; and alter 
 many partial but fierce encounters, Hunniades, the gene- 
 ral and governor of Hungary, was forced to retreat, and 
 was overtaken and imprisoned. The fatigues of war, 
 and his disgrace at Croya, exhausted the strength, and 
 preyed upon the mind of the sultan; and on his return 
 to Adrianople, he was seized with a disorder, which 
 terminated his life m the 47th year of his age, and the 
 29th of his reign. Amurath seems to have been well 
 entitled to the encomiums passed upon him by his his- 
 torians. Warlike in his disposition, he was yet so far 
 swayed by justice and moderation, that he never drew 
 his sword but to revenge injury, and repel aggression ; 
 in the elation of victory, he was never deaf to the voice 
 of submissive entreaty ; and in the observance of his 
 treaties, his word was observed with the sacred strict- 
 ness of an oath. (^•) 
 
 AMYCLiE, a cily of Peloponnesus, founded by Amy- 
 clos, the son of Lacedaemon, and called after his name. 
 It was situated about eighteen miles from the metropo- 
 lis of Laconia. 
 
 In the history of Amyclae, there are few events of 
 much importance. In this city Castor and Pollux were 
 supposed to have been born ; and from it a colony issued, 
 which built another city in Italy, which was also named 
 Amyclae. 
 
 AMYCL^, in Italy, was situated somewhere between 
 Caieta and Tanacina, in Upper Calabria. Its inhabit- 
 ants had been repeatedly much alarmed by false reports, 
 that the enemy were approaching to the city; and in 
 order to secure their tranquillity, enacted a law, prohi- 
 biting, under severe penalties, either the receiving or 
 circulating such unpleasant intelligence. This law, 
 which seems to have been the result of the blindest in- 
 fatuation, procured them the epithet of Taciti, and 
 proved, as might have been expected, the ruin of their 
 city. For when the Dorians came suddenly against it, 
 no one presumed to violate the statute, and the place 
 was, of course, easily taken. The Dorians reduced 
 Amyclx to an insignificant hamlet, in the midst of which, 
 however, the temple and statue of Alexander long re- 
 mained as the evidences of its former grandeui-. (+) 
 
 AMYGDALUS, a genus of plants of the class Ico- 
 Sandria, and order Monogynia. See Botany. (<^') 
 
 AMYRUS, a genus of plants of the class Octandria, 
 and order Monogynia. Sec Botany, {^v') 
 
 AMYOT, James, bishop of Auxcrre, and great almo- 
 ner of France, was born at Melun on llic 30th of Octo- 
 ber, 1514. It is said, that at the age of ten years, he 
 fled from the severity of his father, whose condition was 
 very obscure ; but being seized with sudden illness on 
 the road, he was carried to the hospital at Orleans, 
 where he remained till his health was restored, and was 
 then furnished with 16f/. to defray the expense of his 
 journey home. This kindness he afterwards very am- 
 ply requited, by bequeathing to the hospital a legacy of 
 1200 crowns. At Paris, he was a very diligent student ; 
 and, he became, through laborious application, one of 
 the first literary characters of the 16th century. On 
 leaving Paris, he accompanied the sieur Colin, abbot of 
 
 St Ambrose, to Bourgcs, where he became tutor to the 
 
 children of William Bouchetel, secretary of state. Bou- 
 chelel was so highly satisfied with his attention to his 
 pupils, and their rapid proficiency, that he warmly re- 
 commended him to Margaret, dutchess of Berry, the 
 only sister of Francis 1. Through the patronage of this 
 princess, Amyot was chosen public professor of Greek 
 and Latin in the university of Bourges. While in this 
 situation, he translated from the Greek the ancient ro- 
 mance of Heliodorus, entitled "The Aniours of Thea- 
 gencs and Chariclea;" and Francis was so much pleased 
 with the translation, that he soon rewarded Amyot by 
 promoting him to the abbey of Bellosanc. After the 
 death of his royal patron, Amyot went to Venice with 
 Morvillier, the ambassador ot Henry II., and was em- 
 ployed to carry the letters of the French monarch to the 
 council of Trent. In this commission he acquitted him- 
 self so well, as to acquire the favour of some of the most 
 eminent ecclesiastics at Rome. Instead of returning 
 with Morvillier, therefore, he spent two years in the 
 house of the bishop of Mirepoix, prosecuting his stu- 
 dies with ardour, and ransacking the treasures of the 
 Vatican. The cardinal de Tournon, who happened at 
 the same time to be at Rome, -became so attached to 
 Amyot, that on his return to France, he recommended 
 him to king Henry as the most proper person to be en- 
 trusted with the education of the two princes. His 
 fidelity and attention were gratefully acknowledged and 
 amply rewarded, by his eldest pupil Charles IX., who, 
 on his accession to the throne, conferred on his precep. 
 tor the office of great almoner, appointed him curator 
 of the university of Paris, and invested him in the abbey 
 of St Corneille, and the bishopric of Auxerre. When 
 his younger pupil Henry III. received the sceptre, he 
 shewed himself equally inclined to patronise the fortu- 
 nate prelate. He not only continued him in the office 
 of great almoner, but, to add greater histre to that dig- 
 nity, made him commander of the order of the Holy 
 Ghost, and decreed that, in future, all the great almo- 
 ners of France should, ex officio, be commanders of that 
 sacred order. In the midst of all the commotions and 
 civil wars which ensued, Amyot was still allowed to re- 
 tain his diocese till he died, in the year 1393, the 79th 
 of his age. Amyot has been accused of extreme ava- 
 rice, and had amassed a sum of 200,000 crowns. The 
 learning of Amyot is sufficiently evinced by his works. 
 Of these, the principal are his translations of the Ro- 
 mance of Heliodorus, of Plutarch's Lives, of seven 
 books of Diodorus Siculus, of some Greek tragedies, 
 and of the pastoral of Daphnis. Racine says, of his 
 translation of Plutarch, that it possesses a grace whicTi 
 modern language could not equal. The best edition of 
 it is that of Vacossan, printed in 1567 and 1574, in 13 
 volumes 8vo. His miscellaneous works were printed 
 at Lyons in 1611. {/c) 
 
 ANA, a termination of uncertain origin, now employ- 
 ed to denominate a peculiar species of writing, which 
 consists in collections of the trivial dicta, or loose re- 
 marks of eminent men. Contrary to general belief, this 
 kind of collection is far from being of recent date ; for 
 although not known under the same precise appella- 
 tion, it ascends to a period as remote as the time of 
 Xcnophon and Plato. Julius Casar is said to have col- 
 lected the sayings of Cicero; and Suetonius, in his 
 work, De Illunlribus Grammaticis, informs us, that Me- 
 lissus, a gentleman of Spolato, who %\as exposed during 
 infancy by his parents, and from that time became a slave,
 
 ANA 
 
 ANA 
 
 701 
 
 having obtained his freedom, and being appointed libra- 
 rian to Augustus, the Roman emperor, composed works 
 of a similar nature in liis old age. Tne like colleetioiis 
 are touud in all countries, even among the Turks and 
 Jews. 
 
 Of late, the publication of the Ana has been greatly 
 extended, though, as Pcignot justly observes, but a very 
 small portion merits removal from the dust, which in 
 most libraries conceals them from notice; and we must 
 remark, that, except in rare instances indeed, the fame 
 of the author is depreciated instead of being enhanced, 
 by the exposure of his unguarded observations ; neither 
 can we forbear classing them with the work of Otho 
 Melander, Jocorum et Heriorum ccnluria alir/uot,jucundx 
 suavcs et amana^nccnon iilHen etf('sliv'uvlfctu(juc maxiine 
 ofiere diq'nie, 1626. A modern publication at Amster- 
 dam, in a number of volumes, unites many of the Ana 
 together, under a title somewhat analogous, which may 
 serve as a good illustration of the subject, jina, ou 
 choix des bons mots, contcs et anecdotes dcs homines cili- 
 bres, suivis de jirofios joyrux, mots filaisans et contes a 
 rire. These include several centuries. Thus the Pog- 
 giana are the sayings of Giovanni Francesco Bracciolini, 
 ■who was born in Terra Nuova, in the Florentine terri- 
 tory, in the year 1380; and was secretary to several of 
 the popes; and under the same title are contained those 
 of the famous Enea Sylvio Piccolomini, afterwards pope 
 Pius II. who travelled into Scotland early in the fifteenth 
 century. 
 
 The peculiarities of the various Ana are characterised 
 in a French poem, by Lamonnoye, who died in 1727; 
 and we ought not to overlook the labours of the French 
 Encyclopedists on this subject, who have reduced it to 
 a systematic form, under the title Encyclojicdiana, in a 
 quarto volume consisting of no less than 964 pages, 
 which they affirm, " is calculated solely for tlie amuse- 
 ment of their readers." It begins with numerous anec- 
 dotes of the letter A, and terminates with those of the 
 Greek painter Leusis, who lived 400 years before Christ. 
 
 to 
 
 ANABAPTISTS, in church history, a sect whose 
 -origin it is difficult to trace, but which produced terri- 
 ble commotions in Switzerland, Holland, and Germany, 
 about the time of the Reformation. The distinguishing 
 doctrine of this sect, and from which it derived its name, 
 is the invalidity of infant baptism, and the re-baptization 
 of all who wish to be admitted into their community. 
 There can be no doubt, that there were many who held 
 these opinions before the time of the Rtformatinn ; and 
 perhaps the modern Baptists arc justifiable in deducing 
 their origin rather from the persecuted Waldenses, and 
 other opponents of the church of Rome, than from the 
 factious bigots who afterwards distinguished themselves 
 so much by their atrocities and absurdities. 
 
 Munzer, the apostle of the Anabaptists, with his asso- 
 ciates, Stubner, and Storck, began to preach the fanati- 
 cal doctrines of this sect, in Saxony, in the year 1521. 
 Not meeting, however, with the desired success, and 
 judging argument to be a method not sufficiently expe- 
 ditious in effi;cling conversion, they at last had recourse 
 to arms; they assembled, in the year 1525, a numerous 
 army, composed chiefly of the peasants of Sualiia, Thu- 
 ringia, Franconia, and Saxony; and at tbc head of this 
 deluded rabble, declared war against all laws and go- 
 vernments, alleging that C^.rist wns now come to take 
 the reins of government into his own hands, and to com- 
 mence his long expected reign over the nations. This 
 
 rabble was soon dispersed; and Munzer, their leader, 
 was ignominiously put to death. 
 
 The sect, however, was not destroyed by this discom- 
 fiture ; the mania spread throughout all Germany, and 
 the neiglibouring countries, threatening the subversion 
 of all moral principle, as well as of all constituted au- 
 thorities. The human mind appears to have been, at 
 that particular period, peculiarly liable to run into every 
 species of absurd. ty. The veneration for ancient preju- 
 dices had been dispelled ; the doctrines and maxims 
 which had so long regulated the Christian world, had 
 been demonstrated to l)e, for the most part, absurd and 
 pernicious; and men had been taught to seek for truth 
 and happiness by an intrepid exertion of their own fa- 
 culties, instead of trusting to the false and interested 
 interpretations of others. We may easily conceive that 
 this new light would, for a time, prove highly injurious 
 to unstable minds, and prepare them for receiving any 
 doctrine, however absurd, that came to them recom- 
 mended by novelty. After all, however, it is perhaps 
 not necessary to seek so deep for the cause of that suc- 
 cess which attended the preaching, or rather the ravings 
 of the Anabaptists, as we have seen the same kind of 
 epidemical madness burst forth in every state of socie- 
 ty, whilst we are as unacquainted with its cause, as we 
 are in general with the origin of a dysentery or a fever. 
 Besides, the opinions publicly avowed by the Anabap- 
 tists, were of such a nature, as must at all times attract 
 the attention of an ignorant and licentious mob. 1. 
 Their leading doctrine was, that infant baptism was an 
 invention of the devil. This was a harmless doctrine, 
 in so far as the peace of society was concerned. 2. They 
 maintained that the true church of Christ, of which they 
 considered themselves as the constituent members, 
 ought to be exempt from all sin. From this doctrine, 
 we might expect to find the new sect distinguished for 
 purity and austerity of manners. The event, however, 
 showed, that it led to the most abandoned licentious- 
 ness ; and that it did not tend to reform the conduct, 
 but to subvert the great leading principles of morality ; 
 for, holding the doctrine of a spotless church, and find- 
 ing at the same time, that the principles of their nature 
 still led them to those actions which are generally ac- 
 counted sinful, to reconcile this doctrine and practice 
 with each other, the Anabaptists were forced to main- 
 tain, that whatever their hearts desired, might be law- 
 fully indulged, and that all the restraints imposed by the 
 laws on human conduct, were encroachments on Chris- 
 tian liberty. 3. They maintained, that all things ought 
 to be in common among the faithful, and that all usury 
 and taxes ought to be abolished ; most agreeable doc- 
 trines to the indolent and the seditious. 4. Every 
 Christian had a right to preach the gospel, and God 
 still revealed his will to chosen persons by dreams and 
 visions; doctrines which could not fail to please the 
 fanatical and the ignorant. 5. There was no use what- 
 ever for civil magistrates in the kingdom of Christ. 
 
 An opportunity was soon afforded of reducing these 
 hopeful principles to practice. John Matthias, a baker 
 of Haerlem, and John Boccold, a journeyman tailor of 
 Leyden, bep,-an to preach the doctrines of the Anabaptists 
 in Munster, an imperial city of Westphalia. Emboldened 
 by the success which attended their labours, they se- 
 cretly called in their associates from the country, and 
 seized on tlie arsenal and senate-liouse in the night- 
 time ; and, runninsr through the streets with drawn 
 swords and frantic bowlings, cried out alternately, "re-
 
 70-2 
 
 ANA 
 
 ANA 
 
 pent and be baptized," and "depart yc ungodly." The 
 senators, nobility, and all the more respectable part 
 ot the citizens, lied in confusion, and lel't the two pro- 
 phets in possession of the city. iNIatthias, who was the 
 most enlcrprizing of the two, instantly set about esta- 
 blishing a new constitution. Me ordered every man to 
 bring forth his gold, silver, and precious cH'ecls, and to 
 lay them at his feet ; the wealth amassed by these means 
 lie deposited in a public treasury, and appointed deacons 
 to dispense it for the common use of all. He command- 
 ed all the members of his commonwealth to eat at tables 
 prepared in public, and prescribed the dishes which 
 were to be served up each day. Having finished his 
 l)lan of reformation, his next care was to provide for the 
 defence of the city, which he did with a prudence that 
 savoured nothing of fanaticism. He dignified Munster 
 with the name of Mount Zion, and invited the faithful to 
 repair to it from all quarters, that they might issue from 
 thence to subdue the sinful nations. In the mean time, 
 the bishop of Munster, having collected a considerable 
 army, advanced to besiege the town. Matthias sallied 
 out to meet him, and having attacked one quarter of the 
 camp, he forced it with great slaughter, and returned to 
 the city loaded w ith glory and spoil. Intoxicated with 
 this success, he appeared next day brandishing a spear, 
 and declaring, that, like Gideon, he would, with a hand- 
 ful of men, smite the ungodly. He chose thirty persons 
 to accompany him in this wild enterprize, who, rushing 
 on the enemy, were cut off to a man. Matthias was suc- 
 ceeded by John Boccold, who was, if possible, a wilder 
 enthusiast than his predecessor. He marched through 
 the streets of Munster, stark naked, proclaiming with a 
 loud voice, " that whatever was highest on earth should 
 be bi-ought low, and whatever was lowest should be ex- 
 alted." Accordingly, in order to accomplish his own 
 prediction, he commanded the churches to be levelled 
 with the ground, and degraded Cnipperdoling, who had 
 been made consul by Matthias, to the office of common 
 hangman; and that the other part of the prediction, 
 respecting the exaltation of the low, might be equally 
 fulfilled, he caused himself to be declared king of Zion. 
 
 Boccold was not more remarkable for his enthusiasm 
 than for his licentiousness; qualities, in appearance, 
 widely different, but in the nature of things nearly allied ; 
 for the same fervid temperament that gives rise to the 
 extravagance of enthusiasm, inclines no less to sensual 
 gratifications. Boccold, having a strong tendency that 
 way, instructed the preachers to inculcate on fheir hear- 
 ers the necessity of taking more wives than one. To 
 set them a laudable example in this new species of re- 
 formation, he himself married fourteen wives. The 
 multitude, after the example of their prophet, gave them- 
 selves up to the most uncontrolled indulgence, and 
 committed the most horrible indecencies, under the 
 pretext of using their Christian liberty. Thus, to use 
 the words of an elegant historian, (Robertson,) " by a 
 monstrous, and almost incredible conjunction, voluptu- 
 ousness was engrafted on religion, and dissolute riot 
 accompanied the austerities of fanatical devotion." 
 
 The German princes beheld these outrages with in- 
 dignation, and voted a supply of men and money to the 
 bishop of Munster, to enable him to reduce the fanatics. 
 Munster, accordingly, was invested more closely than 
 before, and the besieged were reduced to the greatest 
 extremities for want of provisions. At last, a deserter 
 from Boccold informed the enemy of a weak part in the 
 fortifications, and offered to conduct them in an attack 
 
 during A\q. ntglit. The proposal was accepted, and a 
 party, having scaled the walls unperceivcd, opened one 
 of the gates to their companions. The Anabaptists, thus 
 surprized, were, after an obstinate resistance, all either 
 slain or taken prisoners, after having been in possession 
 of the town for upwards of fifteen months. Boccold, 
 havhig been carried about as a spectacle from city to city, 
 was afterwards put to death at Munster, with exquisite 
 tortures, which he bore with the most amazing firm- 
 ness, professing to the last his belief in the doctrines of 
 his sect. 
 
 Before closing this article it may be proper to observe, 
 that the descendants of the Anabaptists not only renounce 
 all tlitir most obnoxious tenets, but consider the very 
 name of yi?2aba/i lists as disgraceful. In England they 
 arc called Baptists; in Holland they are called Menno- 
 nites, from Menno their great reformer, and Water- 
 landians, from Waterland, a district in North Holland. 
 Herman Schyn, in his history of the Mennonites, is at 
 great pains to show, odiosum nomcn Anabafitistarum illit 
 non con-ocnirey that the odious name of Anabaptists does 
 not apply to them. See Mosheim's Churc/i Hist. vol. 
 iv. Rol)ertson's C7iar/fs V.\o\.\\. See also Baptists, {g) 
 
 ANABASIS, a genus of plants of the class Pentandria 
 and order Digynia. See Botany, (tv) 
 
 ANABOA. See Annoben. 
 
 ANACARDIUM, a genus of plants of the class En- 
 neandria, and order Monogynia. See Botany, (w) 
 
 ANACEIA, the name of a festival celebrated by 
 the Spartans and Athenians in honour of the A\ar,ti or 
 A'v«xT£5, or the Aioo-y.dv^oi, appellations given to Castor 
 and Pollux, to Tritopatreus, Eubuleus, and Dionysius, 
 and also to Alco and Melampus Emolus, three families 
 which were descended from the Gods. The Anaces are 
 supposed by some to be the ancient Carthaginian Cabisi, 
 while others think that they are descended from the 
 Anakims of Moses. Those who wish to receive farther 
 information on a subject barren of interest, may consult 
 Cicero De jVat. Deorum lib. iii. cap. 21. Josephus An- 
 ti(/. Jucl. lib. xii. cap. 5. Vossius De Idolat. lib. i. cap. 
 1 3, and Plutarch in Tfias. (o) 
 
 AN ACH ARSIS, a Scythian philosopher, who flourish- 
 ed about 600 years before the Christian sra. His father, 
 who was a man of note in his nation, had married a Gre- 
 cian lady, by whom her son was instructed in the Greek 
 language, and inspired with a taste for the literature of 
 her country. Arrived at the years of maturity, he was 
 entrusted by his fellow citizens with the conduct of an 
 embassy to Athens ; upon which occasion, he acquired 
 the friendship of the celebrated Solon, and made such 
 progress in philosophy, that he has himself been reckon- 
 ed by some, among the seven Grecian sages. It is re- 
 ported, that when he first came to the door of Solon, he 
 requested a servant to inform his master, that Anachar- 
 sis, a Scythian, was at the door, and was desirous of be- 
 ing received as his guest and friend. Solon is said to 
 have returned for answer, that " friendships are best 
 formed at home." To this the Scythian philosopher 
 replied, " Then let Solon, who is at home, make me his 
 friend, and receive me into his house." Solon, struck 
 with the propriety of the reply, immediately gave ad- 
 mittance to his visitor, and, finding him worthy of his 
 confidence, honoured him with his friendship. Through 
 the influence of this celebrated character, Anacharsis 
 was introduced to persons of the first note in Athens; 
 and was the first stranger who was honoured with the 
 rights of citizenship by the Athenians.
 
 ANA 
 
 Ai\A 
 
 703 
 
 Having resklecl several years in Athens, und travelled 
 into foreign countries in tjuest oi knowledge, he at length 
 returned to his native land, full of the desire of imparl- 
 ing his acquisition to his unlcltered cotnitrynien. But 
 the attempt to introduce the laws and religion of Greece, 
 cost him his life, hy the hand, it is said, of his own bro- 
 ther, then raised to the throne of Scythia; and. who slew 
 Anacharsis with an arrow, as he was performing a sacri- 
 fice to Cybele. 
 
 To Anacharsis is ascribed the comparison of laws to 
 cobwebs, which can entangle only small flies, while the 
 Jargerones break through them. It was also a saying of 
 his, that the vine bears three sorts of fruit; the first, 
 pleasure ; the second, intoxication ; the third, remorse. 
 An ape, said he, is ridiculous by nature, a man by art 
 and study. An Athenian of bad morals having reproach- 
 ed him with being a Scythian, he replied, "• My country 
 may be a disgrace to me, but you are a disgrace to your 
 country." lie is absurdly said by some, to have lived 
 in a cart instead of a house ; and to have invented the 
 potter's wheel, which was undoubtedly known in the 
 days of Homer. The epistles which bear his name, are 
 
 generally supposed to be spurious See Herod. 1. iv. 
 
 Plut. in Coni'iv. Cic. Tusc. 1. v. c. 32. ()!;) 
 
 AN.A.CHORET. See Anchoret. 
 
 ANACHRONISM, from «»« above, and ^fovo; time. 
 A person is said to be guilty of an anachronism, when 
 he places any event in history earlier than the time when 
 it really happened. The word, however, is generally 
 employed to signify an error in point of time, whether 
 the event is placed earlier or later than when it happen- 
 ed, (o) 
 
 ANACLASTIC Glasses, a kind of low flat bottles, 
 which emit a loud noise from the action of the breath. 
 Their bottom is slightly arched, and, being extremely 
 thin, is therefore very flexible ; hence, if we gently suck 
 out the air when the bottom is convex, it bounds in- 
 wards with a loud crack, and becomes concave ; if we 
 now breathe gently into it, the bottom springs back 
 with the same explosive noise to its former position. 
 The loudness of the sound emitted by anaclastic glasses 
 arises from the great breadth of their bottom, the si- 
 multaneous and accelerated motion of all its paits, the 
 suddenness with which this motion is stopt, and the 
 violent shock which is thus given to the bottom and 
 sides of the vessel. 
 
 Anaclastic glasses are chiefly manufactured in Ger- 
 many of a fine white glass; but any other glass, which 
 is uniform in its substance, and not very hard, will do 
 equally well. Their sides generally resemble a low 
 inverted funnel. This form, by increasing the bottom, 
 makes the sound more powerful, and, by rendering the 
 vessel less capacious, considerably diminishes the risk 
 of its being ruptured. Rosini Lentilii Oribaasi Sc/ied. 
 de Vitris -dnaclaslicis E/ihem. Acad. JVatiiral Curiosoru?7i, 
 dec. ii. ann. 3. p. 489. (+) 
 
 ANACLASTICS, or Anclatics, compounded of a»a 
 and x>Lxa, I b)\ak, a term now fallen into desuetude, 
 and synonymous with Dioptrics. (+) 
 
 ANACREON, a famous Grecian lyric poet, and the 
 father of tliat lighter species of versification which is 
 employed in celebrating the influence of love, and in 
 recommending the careless enjoyment of convivial plea- 
 sures. 
 
 The authentic particulars of the life of this celebrated 
 bard are few. But the industry and ingenuity of his 
 learned commentators, exerted vfith a degree of zeal 
 
 that deserved a more worthy object, and a more sticccss- 
 lul issue, have enabled them to spin out his biography 
 to a considerable kiigth ; by collecting all the hints 
 which are to be found scattered throughout the works of 
 ancient writers, by interweaving truth with fiction, and 
 wiien information was deficient, by substituting conjec- 
 ture tor histoiical certainty. Those who are anxious to 
 learn all that is stated, and more than can be vouched for, 
 on the subject, will be amply gratified by the perusal of 
 Barne's ylnacreont. Vil. 
 
 Anacreon was born at Teos, a city of Ionia, in the 6th 
 century before the Christian era. The precise date of 
 his birth cannot be accurately ascertained ; nor are au- 
 thors agreed concerning tlije names or circumstances of 
 his parents ; but it is generally supposed, that his family 
 was dlustrious. His eminent poetical abiliiies, and ta- 
 lents for social hitercourse, seem to have early recom- 
 mended him to the notice of the most distinguished per- 
 sonages of the age in which he flourished ; and heap- 
 pears to have spent some part ol his life at the court of 
 Poiycrates, the accomplished tyrant of Samos, by whom 
 he was highly esteemed and caressed. Indeed, the cul- 
 tivated genius, and the amiable and lively disix>sition of 
 Anacreon, must have been considered as a valuable ac- 
 cession to his social circles, by a prince, who, like Hip- 
 parchus of Athens, whom he rivalled in the encourage- 
 ment of polite literature, is celebrated as a liberal patron 
 of learning and the arts ; and who spared no requisite ex- 
 pense, in order to render his throne the centre of all that 
 could contribute to the sum of elegant pleasures, or con- 
 duce to the refinements of luxury. How long our poet 
 continued to reside at Samos is uncertain ; but we are 
 informed, that he afterwards removed to Athens, in 
 compliance with the solicitations of Hipparchus, son 
 of Pisistratus, who sent a vessel of fifty oars to conduct 
 the bard, with letters expressive of his esteem and ad- 
 miration. — Plato in lli/i/iarcho. 
 
 Anacreon lived to a good old age ; and the manner of 
 his death appears so singularly characteristic, that we 
 are inclined to place the account among the number of 
 those fictions, in which the Greeks were accustomed to 
 envelope every circumstance relative to theii- distin- 
 guished countrymen. We are told, that he was choked 
 by the stone of a dried grape, while regaling upon some 
 new wine, in the 85th year of his age. — Plin. 1. vii. c. 7. 
 Val. Max. 1. ix. c. 12. extern. 8. 
 
 The character of Anacreon has been variously portray- 
 ed. Like most men of eminence, whose history is ob- 
 scured by the mist of antiquity, and whose character is 
 but ambiguously represented in their works, he has beea 
 cither loaded with extravagant praise, or overwhelmed 
 by boundless and indiscriminating censure, according to 
 the fancy or caprice of his biographers. Some have de- 
 scribed him as an habitual drunkard and debauchee, for 
 ever wallowing in the mire of sensuality and licentious 
 dissipation ; while others have held him up to our view, 
 and recommended him to our imitation, as a model of 
 virtue and moral purity. — Vid. Barne's Le Fe-vre ; M. 
 Baillet, Jugemens den Siavans ; J. Vulpius, de utiltt./ioet. 
 Moore, &c. These two sufficiently contrasted repre- 
 sentations are probably both overcharged. The ancient 
 writers have not left us any very decisive information on 
 the subject : and the literary productions of an author 
 do not always contain the most certain evidence of his 
 moral dispositions. In forming our estimate of the 
 moral character of Anacreon, we would neither exalt him 
 into a sage, nor sink him into a profligate. He appears
 
 ■04 
 
 ANA 
 
 ANA 
 
 to have been a careless, good-nalui'cd being, more alive 
 to the pleasures than to the anxieties ol the world ; 
 whose lile was not sullied l)y any of the more disgraceful 
 and degrading vices ; and who sung of love and of 
 wine, partly to indulge his own lively disposition ; and 
 partly to gratify the taste of those by whom he was sur- 
 rounded. The testimonies of the ancients concerning 
 him arc, in general favourable ; and will justify our at- 
 tributing to him the vila -verecanda with the musajocosa 
 of Ovid. 
 
 The productions of Anacreon are said to have been 
 numerous ; but many of his poems appear to have sha- 
 red the same late which the works of Alcaeus, Sappho, 
 and others experienced in the early ages ; and for the 
 collection which we now possess of his scattered re- 
 mains, we are principally indebted to the zeal and indus- 
 try of Henry Stephen. Besides the odes and the few 
 epigrams, which are still extant, we are informed that 
 he composed several elegies and hymns, and a number 
 of larger and smaller pieces ; but these have all perish- 
 ed in the genei-al wreck of ancient literature. The 
 odes which have been preserved, even in their imper- 
 fect and mutilated state, are calculated to convey a very 
 high idea of Anacreon 's genius and talent for lyric poe- 
 try. Their principal characteristic beauties appear to 
 lis to consist of a singular simplicity of diction, a careless 
 felicity and uncommon delicacy of expression; and al- 
 though almost exclusively devoted to amatory and bac- 
 chanalian subjects, they exhibit a wonderful fertility of 
 invention, and variety of illustration. This inventive 
 power is eminently displayed in the numerous little al- 
 legories in which our author has introduced and personi- 
 fied the passion of love ; and in the different modes in 
 which he has pursued and illustrated subjects, which, 
 under the management of more ordinary poets, would 
 probably have been productive of the most insipid mo- 
 notony. He is ever sportive and najf; and always con- 
 veys his meaning in few words, yet with the utmost per- 
 spicuity. He seldom dwells long, at one time, on the 
 same idea, and never attempts extensive flights ; but, as 
 if conscious that a great deal of the merit of such trifles 
 depends upon their brevity, he hastens to the con- 
 clusion which is generally wound up in an epigrammatic 
 form. 
 
 The works of Anacreon have been censured, on ac- 
 count of their supposed immoral tendency ; and if to 
 sing in praise of love and wine involves immorality, 
 Anacreon certainly stands convicted. But it is surely 
 too much to exact from a song writer, the severity of 
 a didactic poet, or of a teacher of morality. With re- 
 gard to his manner of writing, it is admitted on all hands, 
 that Anacreon has very seldom indulged in voluptuous 
 images ; that his language is generally free from indeli- 
 cacy, and that, consequently, his songs have little tenden- 
 cy to inflame the passions. Indeed, it may be asserted, 
 without great fear of contradiction, that his productions 
 arc, in these respects, much more chaste and unexcep- 
 tionable, than many of those we are accustomed to 
 look upon as the purest models of classical composition. 
 In the effusions of Anacreon, light and playful as they 
 are, it is absurd to search for moral precepts. His odes 
 arc well adapted for our amusement and relaxation in 
 leisure moments ; but not for study or instruction in 
 more serious hours. In them we do not expect to find 
 substantial food ; but rather look for those delicacies, 
 which, although they may not give nourishment or 
 strength to the body, yet afford a harmless, perhaps a 
 
 benclicial gratification. We unfold the page of the Telan. 
 in the same spirit of expectation with which we enter a 
 flower-garden, not with the view of regaling upon solid 
 fruits, but to inhale the balmy fragrance of a thousand 
 odoriferous flowers. 
 
 Let us not, therefore, rashly, or too severely, censure 
 the sportive sallies of tliat poet, who stands alone and 
 unrivalled in his peculiar department of composition; 
 whose productions were the delight of his contempora- 
 ries, and the admiration of former, perhaps in matters ol 
 taste, more discerning ages ; and whom one of tne most 
 sublime philosophers of heathen antiquity, did not scru- 
 ple to distinguish Ijy the epithet of the " wise." — Plafo 
 ui P/utdro. 
 
 The reader will find a list of the principal editions of 
 Anacreon prefixed to Mr Moore's Translation. We add 
 the following : 
 
 The edition by Fischer ; Leipsic, 1778. 
 
 The elegant edition by Codonius, in Greek capitals 
 Folio. Parma, 1785. 
 
 The same in l2mo. Parma, 1791. {z) 
 
 ANACREONTIC, from Anacrcjn, a name given to 
 amatory and bacchanalian songs. No ancient poet, per- 
 haps, has been more frequently translated, or more 
 abundantly imitated, than Anacreon. Some pious fathers 
 of the church, in early times, endeavoured to suit him 
 with an ecclesiastical habit. There exist some speci- 
 mens of Latin anacreontics, not inelegant, by writers of 
 a later period. Modern literature abounds with imita- 
 tions ; yet in few of these are the peculiar features of 
 the Teian muse perceptible to the classical scholar. In- 
 deed we entertain great doubts, whether any of the de- 
 rivative languages of modern Europe be capable of that 
 extreme simplicity, which constitutes so striking a cha- 
 i-acteristic of Anacreon's style. The Germans, however, 
 who possess an original language, have, in many instan- 
 ces, caught the true manner of anacreontic poetry. For 
 these we refer our readers to the works of Hagedork, 
 Uz, Lessing, Kleist, Weisse, Goetz, and particularly 
 Gleim, whose merits, in this species of poetry, have 
 procured for him, among his countrymen, the name of 
 the German Anacreon. — See Gleim, Scherzhafte Lei- 
 der. (z) 
 
 ANACYCLUS, a genus of plants of the class Syn- 
 genesia, and order Polygamia Superflua. See Bota- 
 ny, (to) 
 
 ANADYR, a river in Siberia, which rises out of a 
 lake in N. Lat. 68° 2', and E. Long. 169", and, pursuing 
 a south-eastern course, falls into that part of the Pacific 
 Ocean which is called the Sea of Anadyr, or the Anadir 
 Skaia Gulf, in E. Long. 177° 34'. N. Lat. 65". The 
 Anadyr is a broad but shallow river, and is the boundary 
 of two different climates and soils. All the country north 
 of this river is so completely barren, as scarcely to pre- 
 sent any symptoms of vegetation ; while the country on 
 the south is clothed in verdant pasture, or crowned with 
 lofty forest trees, {k) 
 
 ANAGALLIS, a genusof plants of the class Pentan- 
 dria, and order Monogynia. See Botany, (to) 
 
 ANAGNOSTES, among the Romans, was a servant 
 employed by families of distinction to read to them, 
 chiefly during meals. See Cicero Famil. lib. v. ep. 9. 
 Cornel, in Vit. Attic, and Hoffman Lexic. Uni-vers. [o) 
 
 ANAGRAM, from <«v«and y^cnA-y-n, is a word or sen- 
 tence, which, by a transposition of the letters, becomes a 
 word or sentence of a different signification. We sh.ould 
 disgrace our work by taking notice of the different an?-
 
 ANA 
 
 ANA 
 
 roii 
 
 gl-ams with which the ancient lexicographers have tried 
 to amuse their readers, (o) 
 
 ANAGYRIS, a genus ol' plants of the class Decandria, 
 and order Monogyuia. See Botany, (w) 
 
 ANALEMMA, a planisphere, or projection of the 
 sphere, orthographically made on the plane of tlie sol- 
 stitial colure by perpendiculars from every point of tliat 
 plane, the eye being supposed to be placed vertical to 
 either of the equinoctial points, and at an iiifmiie dis- 
 tance. The solstitial colure is consecjucntly projected 
 into a circle bounding the planisphere, and its parallels 
 into concentric circles equal to the real circles of the 
 sphere. All circles whose planes are at right angles 
 to the plane of the solstitial colure, such as the equinoc- 
 tial, the equinoctial colure, the ecliptic, the horizon, and 
 their parallels, are projected into straight lines equal to 
 their diameters, the lines which represent great circles 
 being diameters of the planisphere having the same in- 
 clination with the circles which they represent, and those 
 which represent smaller circles being cords. Any ob- 
 lique circle is projected into an ellipse, whose transverse 
 axis is equal to the diameter of the circle, and its con- 
 jugate axis the cosine of the inclination of the plane of 
 the circle to the plane of the equinoctial colure, taking 
 the diameter of the circle as Rad. 
 
 Analemma also denotes an instrument, having the 
 above projection described upon it, and fitted with a 
 moveable horizon. Sec. This instrument is used to 
 solve various astronomical problems. For its con- 
 struction and use, see Projection of the Sphere. 
 (ir) 
 
 ANALOGY, in Philosophy, a certain relation, corres- 
 pondence, or agreement, between several things in some 
 respects, which yet differ in others. It includes, there- 
 fore, a resemblance joined with some diversity ; and, 
 according to the schoolmen, its foundation is laid in the 
 proportion of several things, contemplated as proceed- 
 ing from different considerations. They treat of three 
 kinds of it, that of ine(/ua/i/i/, of attribution, and oi pro- 
 fiortionality ; but it is of more benefit to consider ana- 
 logy in reference to its degrees than its genera. 
 
 The second law of philosophising laid down by sir 
 Isaac Newton, recommends drawing conclusions from 
 analogy where the resemblance between the things com- 
 pared is strong. " Of natural effects of the same kind," 
 says that law, " the same causes are to be assigned as 
 far as it can be done. As of respiration in a man and 
 in a beast ; of the descent of stones in Europe, and in 
 America; of light in a culinary fire, and in the sun ; 
 and of the reflection of light in the various planets." 
 Where the analogy is so very manifest, as in the cases 
 here adduced, the conclusion drawn from it approaches 
 to absolute certainty ; and in many cases we have no bet- 
 ter way of reasoning from what is known to what is un- 
 known. The arguments by which sir Isaac Newton es- 
 tablishes the truth of the system of universal gravita- 
 tion are precisely of this sort. He proves, that the pla- 
 nets in their deflections towards the sun are all governed 
 by the same analogy that is observable in the deflec- 
 tions of the earth towards the sun, and of the moon to- 
 wards the earth, as well as of a body projected obliquely 
 at the earth's surface towards its centre : wlience he 
 infers, with the force of demonstration, that all these de- 
 flections spring from the same cause, or are governed 
 by one and the same law, to wit, the power of gravita- 
 tion, by which a heavy body, when unsupported, natu- 
 rally falls to the ground. 
 
 Vol, I. Part II. 
 
 But there is a natural proneness in men to carry argu- 
 ments drawn from analogy too far ; so that this law of 
 philosopliising reejuires to be interpreted with more 
 strictness, and its abuses more carefully guarded against 
 than any other. 'I'liat principle of human thought by 
 which we form numerous combinations among the ob- 
 jects of our knowledge, according to real or supposed 
 resemblances, is continually prompting us to carry com- 
 parison fartlier than tlie nature of things will warrant. 
 We are always apt to judge ol things little known l)y 
 those with whicli we are familiar; and to trace simili- 
 tudes, which, thougii often the mere suggestions of our 
 imagination, we are apt to mistake for discoveries of 
 reason. Natural historians are fond of tracing an analogy 
 between the three kingdoms of nature, the animal, the 
 vegetable, and the muieral. Tlie analogy between ani- 
 mals and vegetables is doubtless, in many cases, very 
 striking. They are both of an organised or vascular struc- 
 ture ; both grow and expand from minute germs by as- 
 similating nourishment from the different elements ; 
 both are capable of reproducing their kinds, by the 
 generation of ova or seeds. These, and \arious other 
 points of analogy between plants and animals, are suffi- 
 ciently striking, and have been admitted by all ; but na- 
 turalists have not stopped here. Actuated by tlie fond- 
 ness for carrying analogy to its utmost limit, they have 
 extended to vegetables properties which can only be- 
 long to sentient beings. It is thus that they have as- 
 cribed to plants, a state of sleep and of wakefulness, a 
 power of voluntary motion, and a capacity of avoiding 
 danger, till at length they have not stopped short of ascri- 
 bhig to them actual sensibility and perception, and 
 have elevated them to the very rank of living creatures. 
 " Trees," says Mr White, " are animated, they have 
 their food, their enjoyments, their grief, their health, 
 their illness, their watching, their sleep, their emana- 
 tions, their absorptions, their infancy, their growth, their 
 puberty, their manhood, and their love. The man who 
 does not find in animals, younger brothers, and in plants 
 cousins, more or less removed, is unacquainted with his 
 own nature, and is devoid of the elements of morality." — 
 On the gradations in ^lan, p. 6. 
 
 This is a considerable stretch of analogy ; but it is 
 greatly exceeded by that spirit of generalization, which 
 ascribes life and sensibility to stones. " The vegeta- 
 tion of stones," says the Bishop of Llandaff, " hath been 
 admitted by many ; and some have contended, that mine- 
 rals, as well as animals and vegetables, sfiring from seed ; 
 tlie greatest being nothing but the expansion of the parts 
 of a minute grain of sand." " I do not know," adds he, 
 " whether it would be a very extravagant conjecture, 
 which should suppose, that all matter is, or has b<^en, 
 organised, enlivened, and animated." Watson's Chemi- 
 cal Essays, vol. v. 
 
 We infer from analogy, with a high degree of proba- 
 bility, that the planets are peopled with inhabitants, on 
 account of their numerous points of resemblance with 
 our earth. They all revolve round the sun as the earth 
 does, and are governed in their revolution by the same 
 law of gravitation. They all, like the earth, borrow their 
 light from the sun, and most of them are known to have 
 a rotation on their axes; and therefore, like the earth, 
 to have a vicissitude of day and night. Several of them 
 likewise are attended by moons as the earth is. From 
 these manifold points of resemblance, it is highlv rea- 
 sonable to conclude, that these bodies are, like our earth, 
 destined to be the habitation of various orders of living 
 4U
 
 706 
 
 ANA 
 
 ANA 
 
 creatures. Such an argument, drawn from analogy, is 
 perfectly legitimate, and carries >viih it the greatest 
 probability. But who can help smiling at the extent to 
 wliich the learned Wolfius carries this kind of analogi- 
 cal reasoning, wlien he proceeds upon it to calculate the 
 precise dimensions of the supposed inhabitants of the 
 (liflerent planets ! (See FJcm. Aatron. Gcncv. 1735, part 
 •id.) The inhabitants of Jupiter, he thinks, must be 
 giants ; and he grounds his opinion chiefly on the small 
 degree of solar light which they enjoy ; so that the pu- 
 pils of their eyes, and consequently Iheir whole bodies, 
 must be considerably larger than ours. He fixes the 
 medium height of an inhabitant of Jupiter at 1 JiVi'q Pa- 
 ris feet ; and this he finds to agree almost exactly with 
 that of the famous Og, king of Bashan, whose bed, ac- 
 cording to Moses, was nine cubits and a quarter in 
 length. This datum enables him, by means of a calcu- 
 lation concerning the Hebrew cubit, to fix the height of 
 king Og, at 13-i|||of the same feet. 
 
 In no branch of science has reasoning from analogy 
 been carried to a greater excess, than in the various 
 departments of the philosophy of mind ; and no where 
 has it been productive of greater errors. The early at- 
 tention of mankind is so completely engrossed by ma- 
 terial objects and their properties, that all their specu- 
 lations concerning intellect, receive a certain colouring 
 and bias from this cause. The very names by which we dis- 
 tinguish the faculties of the mind, are almost all borrow- 
 ed from the qualities of matter,of which we have examples 
 in the words understanding, coni/ire/iending, imaginmg; de- 
 /ibcrating^i and the like ; and the very soul, or sentient 
 pruiciplc itself, is often distinguished by no other appel- 
 lation than that which is applied to the air or breath ; 
 it is considered only as a s/iiritus, wsv/m, or ■^uxi- 
 
 As there are no two kinds of existence of more oppo- 
 site qualities than body and mind, conclusions drawn 
 from any supposed analogy between their properties, 
 are peculiarly calculated to engender error. Yet such 
 conclusions have been drawn with all the formality of 
 reasoning, and considered as resting on a solid basis, 
 notwithstanding the very absurd consequences in which 
 they terminated. Of this the following remarkable ex- 
 ample is given by Dr Reid, " When a man is urged by 
 contrary motives, those on one hand inviting him to do 
 some action, those on the other to forbear it, he delibe- 
 rates about it, and at last resolves to do it, or not to do 
 it. The contrary motives are here compared to the 
 weights in the opposite scales of a balance ; and there 
 is not, perhaps, any instance that can be named of a more 
 striking analogy between body and mind. Hence the 
 phrases of weighing motives, of deliberating upon ac- 
 tions, are common to all languages. From this analogy 
 some philosophers draw very important conclusions. 
 They say, that as the balance cannot incline to one side 
 iTiore than the other w hen the opposite weights are equal, 
 so a man cannot possibly determine himself if the mo- 
 tives on both hands are equal; and as the balance must 
 necessarily turn to that side which has most weight, so 
 the man must necessarily be determined to that hand 
 where the motive is strongest. On this foundation some 
 of the schoolmen maintained, that if a hungry ass were 
 placed between two bundles of hay, equally inviting, 
 the beast must stand still, and starve to death, being 
 unable to turn to either, because there are equal mo- 
 lives to both. This is an instance of that analogical rea- 
 soning which ought never to be trusted ; for tlie analogy 
 between a balance and a man deliberating, though one 
 of the strongest tliut can be found between matter and 
 
 miiid, is too weak to support any argument. A piece 
 of dead, inactive matter, and an active intelligent being, 
 are things very unlike ; and because the one would re- 
 main at rest in a certain case, it does not follow iliat the 
 other would be maclive in a case somewiiat similar. The 
 argument is no better than this, that because a dead 
 animal moves only as it is pushed, and if pushed with 
 equal force in contrary directions, must riinam at rest ; 
 therefore, the same thing must happen to a living ani- 
 mal ; for surely the simihlude between a dead animal 
 and a living one, is as great as that between a balance 
 and a man." 
 
 Tlie conclusion drawn by Dr Reid, from his obser- 
 vations concerning analogy, is, that in our inquiries con- 
 cerning the mind and its operations, we ought never to 
 trust to reasonings drawn ironi some supposed simili- 
 tude of body to mind, and that we ought to be very much 
 upon our guard, that we be not imposed upon by those 
 analogical terms and phrases, by which the operations of 
 the mind are expressed mall languages. Knsays on the 
 Jntelkctual Poiuers, Ess. I. c. iv. 
 
 No author has made a belter or more appropriate use 
 of the analogical mode of reasonini<- than Bisliop Buder, 
 in his celebrated treatise entitled "The Analogy of Re- 
 ligion, natural and revealed, to the constitution and course 
 of nature." It is not the immediate design of tliis work 
 to prove the truth of religion either natural or revealed, 
 but to add to that proof, supposed to be already known, 
 and to answer objections against it, by considerations 
 drawn from analogy. When objections are made against 
 the truths of religion, which may with equal force be 
 urged against what we know to be true in the course ol 
 nature, such objections may justly be set aside as of no 
 real weight. But it is shewn bytheauthor of the Analogy^ 
 that the dispensations of Providence in the temporal 
 affairs of this world, arc entirely similar to that further 
 dispensation to which we look forward in our hopes of a 
 future and higher state of existence, that both may be 
 traced up to the same general laws, and appear to be 
 carried on according to the same plan of administra- 
 tion : there is, therefore, the highest presumption that 
 both proceed from the same author, and are equally 
 consistent with the unmutable decrees of his perfect 
 wisdom. In this manner has the author of the Analogy 
 established a truth, which it is of the highest importance 
 tjD learn, that the natural and moral worlds are inti- 
 mately connected, and parts of one stupendous system ; 
 and that the chief objections which are brought against 
 religion may be urged with equal force against the con- 
 stitution and course of nature, where we know them to 
 be false in fact. Thus has he, as it is well expressed 
 by Mr Mainwaring (in the Dissertation prefixed to his 
 volume of Sermons, p. 12.) "formed and concluded a 
 happy alliance between faitli and philosophy." {rn) 
 
 ANALYSIS, from ttinXua, resoh'o, is that procedure 
 in Mathematics, by which a proposition is traced up, 
 through a chain of necessary dependence, to some known 
 operation, or some admitted principle. It is alike appli- 
 cable to the investigation of truth in a theorem, or the 
 discovery of the construction of a problem. Analysis, 
 as its name imports, is thus a sort of inverted form of 
 solution. Assuming the hypothesis advanced, it re- 
 mounts, step by step, till it has reached a source already 
 explored. The reverse of this process, constitutes Syn- 
 thesis, or Com/iosition ; which is the mode usually em- 
 ployed for explaining the elements of science. Analysis, 
 therefore presents the medium of invention ; while syn- 
 thesis naturallv directs the course of instruction.
 
 ANALYSIS. 
 
 70: 
 
 The successive advances in geometry were assuredly 
 not the result of chance; Ihcy clearly evince the appli- 
 cation at all limes of sonic kind, however imperfect, of 
 analytical research. But the science had made very 
 considerable progress, before the mode of proceeding 
 was examined, and reduced to a form of simplicity and 
 elegance. This capital improvement is ascribed to 
 Plato, who thereby rendered analysis a most refined 
 instrument of discovery. Socrates, by introducing the 
 study of logic, had indeed led the way. The celebrated 
 species of argument, which that sage so happily turned 
 against the sophists, was only a sort of indirect demon- 
 stration, or rcductio ad absurdum, and quite analytical in 
 its structure ; but, setting out from false premises, it 
 inevitably terminated in absurd or contradictory princi- 
 ples ; and thus most effectually exposed the dogmatism 
 and captious subtleties of his antagonists. 
 
 Plato first employed the method of analysis, in search- 
 ing for a solution of the celebrated problem of the dii- 
 Jilkation of the cube. Another problem of the same 
 order of difficulty — the trisection of an angle — soon fol- 
 lowed ; and these questions, being found to surpass the 
 powers of ordinary geometry, gave occasion to the 
 extension of the science, to the discovery of the conic 
 sections, and of the rudiments of the theory of curve 
 lines. Mathematics were always respected, and eagerly 
 cultivated, in the groves of the academy; the disciples 
 of the Platonic school, who migrated to Sicily and Alex- 
 andria, continued to prosecute those studies with still 
 greater ardour ; and the age of Archimedes and Apol- 
 lonius forms the most brilliant a:ra in the history of 
 science. The various analytical researches of the Greek 
 geometers, are justly esteemed models of simplicity, 
 clearness, and unrivalled elegance ; and, though mise- 
 rably defaced and mutilated by the riot of time and 
 barbarism, they will yet be regarded by every person 
 capable of appreciating their merits, as some of the 
 finest and happiest monuments of human ingenviity. It 
 is a matter of deep regret, that algebra, or the modern 
 analysis, from the facility of its operations and the cer- 
 tainty of its results, has contributed, especially on the 
 continent, to vitiate the taste, and destroy the proper 
 relish for the strictness and purity, so conspicuous in 
 the ancient mode of demonstration. The study of geo- 
 metrical analysis appears admirably fitted to improve 
 the intellect, by training it to habits of precision, ar- 
 rangement, and close application. If the taste so acquired 
 be not allowed to gain undue possession of the mind, it 
 may be transferred with eminent advantage to algebra, 
 which needs reform in almost every part, and which has 
 shot up hastily to maturity, without acquiring compact- 
 ness or symmetry of form. 
 
 To give some idea of the nature of geometrical ana- 
 lysis, we shall now select a few specimens of the most 
 elementary kind. We mean afterwards, in a separate 
 article, to treat the subject at considerable extent. 
 
 PROPOSITION I. PROBLEM. 
 
 From two given points, to draw straight lines, making 
 equal angles at the same point in a straight line given 
 in position. 
 
 Let AB be two given points, and CD a straight line 
 given in position ; it is required to draw AG, GB, so 
 that the angles AGC and BGD shall be equal. 
 
 ANALYSIS. 
 From B, one of the 
 points, let fall the per- 
 pendicular BE, and pro- 
 duce it to meet AG in 
 F. The angle BGE, 
 being equal to AGC, 
 is equal to tlie angle 
 F(iE; the right angle 
 BEG is equal to FEG, 
 and the side GE is com- 
 mon to the triangles 
 GBE and GFE, which 
 are therefore equal, and 
 hence the side BE is 
 equal to FE. But the 
 perpendicular BE is gi- 
 ven, and consequently 
 FE is given both in po- 
 sition and magnitude ; 
 whence the point F is 
 given, and therefore G, 
 the intersection of the 
 straight line AF with 
 CD. 
 
 COMPOSITION. 
 
 Let fall the perpendicular BE, and produce it equalis 
 on the opposite side, join AF, meeting CD in G ; AG 
 and BG are the straight lines required. 
 
 For the triangles GBE and GFE, having the side BE 
 equal to FE, GE common, and the contained angle BEG 
 equal to FEG, are equal ; consequently the angle BGE 
 is equal to FGE or AGC. 
 
 PROPOSITION II. PROBLEM. 
 
 To inscribe a square in a given triangle. 
 Let ABC be the triangle, in which it is required to 
 inscribe a square IGFH. 
 
 ANALYSIS. 
 
 Join AF and produce it to meet a parallel to AC in E, 
 and let fall the perpendicular BD and EK. 
 
 Because EB is parallel to FG or AC, AF : .\E : : FG 
 : EB ; and since the perpendicular EK is parallel to FH, 
 AF : AE : : FH : EK. Wherefore FG : EB : : FH : EK ; 
 but FG^FH, and consequently EB^EK. Again, EK 
 being equal to BD, or the 
 altitude of the triangle 
 ABC, is given, and there- 
 fore EB is given both in 
 position and magnitude ; 
 hence the point E is given, 
 and the intersection of AE 
 with BC is given, and con- 
 sequently the parallel FG 
 and the perpendicular FH 
 
 ^ TJ3 
 
 E C 
 
 are given, and thence the square IGFH. 
 COMPOSITION. 
 
 From B, draw BD perpendicular, and BE parallel, to 
 AC, make BE equal to BD, join AE intersecting BC 
 in F, and complete the rectangle IGFH. 
 4U 2
 
 708 
 
 ANALYSIS. 
 
 Because BE and EK are parallel to GF and FH, AE 
 :AF::BE:GF, and AE : AF : : EK : FH ; wherefore 
 BE : GF : : EK : FH ; but BEnEK, and consequently 
 GF— FH. It is hence evident that IGFH is a square. 
 
 PROPOSITION III. PROBLEM. 
 
 In the same straight line, three points being given, 
 to find an intermediate fourth point, such, that the 
 square of its distance from the first shall be equal to 
 the rectangle under its distances from the second and 
 third points. 
 
 Let it be required, in the straight line AC, to find a 
 point D, so that AD^— CDxDB.' 
 
 Case 1. When D lies between the points A and B. 
 
 ANALYSIS. 
 
 On BC describe a circle, to which apply the tangent 
 DE. Because the square of DE is equal to the rect- 
 
 angle under CD and DB, it is equal to the square of 
 AD, and consequently ADztDE. Produce ED to meet 
 a perpendicular in F, and draw the radius EO. The 
 triangles DFA and DOE having the side AD equal to 
 DE, the angles at D vertical, and those at A and E 
 right angles, are equal, and thence AF— OE or DB. 
 Wherefore the perpendicular AF, which is given in 
 position, is likewise given in magnitude ; and conse- 
 quently the point F, the tangent FE, and its intersection 
 D with AC, are all given. 
 
 COMPOSITION. 
 
 Draw the perpendicular AFrzOB, and from F apply 
 ihe tangtnt FE, cutting AB in the point D ; then AD* 
 =:CDxDB. For the triangles DFA and DOE, having 
 thus the side AF equal to OB, the angles at D verti- 
 cal, and those at A and E right angles, are equal, and 
 consequently AD— DE. Whence AD 2— DE^— CD x 
 DB. 
 
 The tangent FE, and therefore its intersection D, are 
 ascertained by the semicircle FAEO. But the point D 
 might be determined somewhat differently : For the 
 triangle ADF being shown by the analysis to be equal 
 to DEO, the side DF is equal to DO, and consequently 
 FO being joined, the angle OFD is equal to FOD. 
 Whence if FD be drawn making the angle OFD equal 
 to FOD, it will cut AC in the point D. 
 
 Case 2. When the section required lies between B 
 and C. 
 
 ANALYSIS. 
 
 On BC describe a cir- 
 cle, draw the perpendicu- 
 lar DE to the circumfe- 
 rence, join AE, and pro- 
 duce it to meet another 
 perpendicular OF from 
 the centre. 
 
 Because the square of 
 DE is equal to the rectan- 
 gle under CD and DB, it 
 is equal to the square of 
 AD, and Urns AD=:DE. 
 Wherefore, the right angled triangle ADE is also isos- 
 celes, and thence the angle at A is half a right angle ; 
 consequently, the remaining angle at F, in the right 
 angled triangle AOF, is likewise iialf a right angle, and 
 therefore the side OF is equal to OA, whence OF is 
 given both in position and magnitude ; and thence AF, 
 its intersection E or E', the perpendicular ED or E'D'. 
 and the points D or D', are all given. 
 
 COMPOSITION. 
 
 On BC describe a circle, draw OF at right ang^les to 
 AC, and equal to OA, join A and L from its intersec- 
 tion E or E', let fall the perpendicular ED or E'D'; then 
 AD2=:CDxDB, or AD'^ziCD'xD'B. 
 
 For the triangle AOF being right angled and isos- 
 celes, the angle at A is half a right angle, and conse- 
 quently the right angled triangle ADE, or AD'E' is 
 likewise isosceles, and AD^DE, or AD'— D'E' ; 
 whence AD^zzDE'^CDxDB, or AD'-:=D'E"=CD' 
 XD'B. 
 
 If AF only touch the circle, the points D and D' will 
 evidently coalesce. In 
 this case, OE:^EA:^EF, 
 and consequently OA^^: 
 20ES and ADrrDO. 
 Wherefore, OAzzCG, 
 and AD=jCG. If tlie 
 distance of the point A 
 from the centre O should 
 exceed CG, the straight 
 line AF must lie wholly 
 without the circle, and 
 the problem will then be- 
 come incapable of solu- 
 tion. 
 
 PROPOSITION IV. THEOREM. 
 
 A straight line drawn from the vertex of an equilate- 
 ral triangle inscribed in a circle to any point in the op- 
 posite circumference, is equal to the two chords in- 
 flected from the same point to the extremities of the 
 base. 
 
 Let ABC be an equilateral triangle inscribed in a cir- 
 cle, and BD, AD, and CD chords drawn from it to a 
 point D in the circumference; then BD— AD-I-CD. 
 
 ANALYSIS. 
 
 For make BE— CD, and join AE. The sides AB 
 and BE are thus equal to AC and CD, and the contain- 
 
 A-B
 
 ANALYSIS. 
 
 709 
 
 cd angle ABE is equal to ACD, since they stand 
 on the same segment AD ; wherefore tlie triangles 
 BAE and ACD are equal, and 
 thence the side AE is e(jual to 
 AD. But BD being e(|ual, by- 
 hypothesis, to AD and CD, and 
 BE having been made equal to 
 CD — there remains ED equal 
 to AD. Hence the triangle 
 AED is equilateral, and there- 
 fore equiangular; consequently, 
 the angle ADE is equal to the 
 angle ACB of the original tri- 
 angle, and these angles stand 
 on the same segment AB. 
 
 Wherefore tlie investigation has thus terminated in a 
 known property. 
 
 SYNTHESIS. 
 
 Make BE=CD, and join AE. The triangle ABE is 
 proved equal to ACD, and consequently the angle BAE 
 is equal to CAD ; add to each the angle EAC, and the 
 whole angle BAG is equal to EAD. But the triangle 
 ABC being equilateral, the angle BAC is equal to BCA, 
 which stands on the same segment with ADE ; where- 
 fore, the angle EAD is equal to ADE, and consequently 
 the side ED is equal to AD ; to these add the equal 
 parts BE and CD, and the whole chord BD is equal to 
 the two chords AD and CD. 
 
 PROPOSITION V. PROBLEM. 
 
 To investigate the construction of a regular pentagon 
 or decagon. 
 
 1. Every regular polygon is capable of being inscribed 
 in a circle; -and, therefore, the angles, formed at the 
 centre by drawing radii to the several corners of the 
 figure, are each of them equal to that part of four right 
 angles corresponding to the number of sides. Conse- 
 quently the central angles 
 of a pentagon are each equal 
 to the fiftli, and those of a 
 decagon are each equal to 
 the tenth part of four right 
 angles ; but an angle at the 
 circumference being half of 
 that at the centre, the verti- 
 cal angle of the isosceles 
 triangle, formed in the pen- 
 tagon by drawing straight 
 lines from any corner to the 
 extremities of the opposite 
 side, must also be th. tenth 
 part of four right angles. 
 Whence the construction of 
 a regular pentagon or deca- 
 gon involves in it the de- 
 scription of an isosceles tri- 
 angle, whose vertical angle 
 is equal to the tenth part of 
 four right angles, or the 
 fifth part of two right an- 
 gles. 
 
 2. Since the vertical angle of that isosceles triangle 
 is the fifth part of two right angles, the angles at its 
 base must be together equal to the remaining four-fifths, 
 and each of them is consequently two-fifths of two right 
 
 angles ; wherefore each of ilie angles at the base of 
 that component triangle, is double of its vertical angle. 
 
 3. Let ABC be sucli an isosceles triangle, having each 
 of the angles at A and C double of the angle at B. Draw 
 CD bisecting the angle ACB. 'I'lie angle 
 
 BCD must then be Cf|ual to CBD, and B 
 
 consequently the side CD is e(|ual to BD. 
 But in the triangles BAC an<l CAD, the 
 angle ABC is equal to ACD, the angle 
 CAB common to both, and consequently H/, 
 the remaining angle BCA is equal to 
 CDA ; whence CDA is equal to CAD, 
 and therefore the side AC is equal to CD. _/^ 
 Thus the three straight lines AC, CD, 
 and BD, are all equal. Again, because CD bisects the 
 angle ACB, BC : AC :: AC : AD, that is, AB : BD :: B 
 D : AD. Hence AB is divided in extreme and mean 
 ratio at the point D, or the square of BD, or of AC the 
 base of the isosceles triangle, is equal to the rectangle 
 under the side AB and the remaining segment AD. 
 Whence the construction of a regular pentai^on or de- 
 cagon, depends on the section of a straight line in ex- 
 treme and mean ratio. 
 
 4. Now let the straight line AB he divided in cxtrcine 
 and mean ratio, or BC^izBAxAC. Add 
 
 I ^ 
 
 1 
 > 1 
 
 ( ' 
 
 \ 
 
 B 
 
 E 
 
 r» 
 
 to each the rectangle BA, BC, and BC'-fBAxBCr: 
 BAxAC-hBAxBC, or BC (BA-t-BC):zBA^ To AB 
 annex BD equal to it, and CDxCB^BD^. Bisect BD 
 in E, and the straight lines CD and CB are the sum and 
 difference of CE and BE ; whence the rectangle under 
 CD and CB, or the square of BA, is equal to the excess 
 of the square of CE above the square of BE, and there- 
 fore CE'ziBA' + BE2. Erect the perpendicular BFn 
 BA, and join EF. It is evident that EF'^BA^-f BE^, 
 and consequently EF^— CE% and EF— CE ; but EF 
 being given, CE and BC, are, therefore, given. 
 
 The composition of this problem foiTns a series of the 
 most beautiful propositions which occur in the Elements 
 of Geometry. Article 4 corresponds to prop. 11. Book 
 ii. of Euclid ; article 3 to prop. 10. Book iv. ; and the 
 first and second articles are the foundations of the 11th 
 and 12th propositions of the same Book. 
 
 Pappus of Alexandria, in the preface to the seventh 
 book of his valuable INIathematical Collections, has enu- 
 merated those works which treated of Analysis, and 
 which were usually studied after the Elements. They 
 consisted of the Data and PoriiDns of Euclid ; of the 
 Section of Ratio and of S/iace, of Determinate Section, of 
 Tangencies, of Inclinations, of Plane Loci, and of the 
 Conic Sections, — all productions of the elegant and pro- 
 lific genius of Apollonius. 
 
 Euclid's treatise ■pre^'i rSi hSoy.itm, or of the Data, 
 forms only one book, extended indeed to some length. 
 Though it contains few propositions but of the simplest 
 kind, it was esteemed by the ancients as a proper in- 
 troduction to the method of analysis. It has been pre- 
 served tolerablv entire, and the celebrated Dr Simson
 
 710 
 
 ANALYSIS. 
 
 of Glasgow lias favourcil the world with a correct edi- 
 tion of it. 
 
 ApoUonius wrote two books jtej i Aoya a3-o7»j»~>!«> or on 
 on the Hcction of Ratio ; other two books, wt^) X"?'^> 
 a'Toloftm, or on the Section of S/iace ; and two books be- 
 sides, a-£fi ^la^ia-fiivm reij.ru, or on Dctcnninatr fieclion. 
 All these have perished ; but Willcbrordus Snellius, 
 son of a professor of Mathematics at Leyden, attempted 
 in 1 667, at the early age of seventeen, to restore them. 
 This small work reflects on its juvenile author the high- 
 est credit, though it wants that purity, fullness, and ele- 
 gance which distinguish the geometrical compositions of 
 the ancients. 
 
 About a century afterwards, the famous Dr. Hallcy, 
 with much sagacity and incredible labour, recovered the 
 books on the Src/ion of Ratio, from an Arabic manu- 
 script in the Bodleian Library. The object of that tract 
 was the solution of a single problem, subdivided into a 
 multitude of cases, and marked with various limita- 
 tions: — "Through a given point, to draw a straight line 
 intercepting segments on two straight lines which are 
 given in position, from given points and in a given ratio." 
 Of the books on the Section of fijiuce no vesUi^c remaui- 
 ed ; but the same able geometer, guided by the few 
 hints furnished by Pappus, very successfully exerted his 
 ingenuity in divining the original structure. It was pro- 
 posed to solve this problem : — " Through a given point, 
 to draw a straight line cutting off segments from given 
 points on two straight lines given in position, and which 
 shall contain a rectangle equal to a given space." 
 
 The two books on Determinate Section have been re- 
 stored by Dr Simson — who passionately admired and so 
 thoroughly understood the spirit of the ancient geome- 
 try — in a style the most luminous and complete. The 
 professor has even gone farther, and has added a third 
 and fourth book entirely new. 
 
 The treatise of ApoUonius, vi^) tvatpui, or on Tan- 
 gencies, likewise in two books, but of which only some of 
 the lemmas are preserved, was, near the close of the 
 sixteenth century, restored, under the title of yl/iotlonius 
 Ga/tus, with great neatness and simplicity, though not 
 precisely in the manner of the ancients — by the famous 
 Victa, Master of Requests at Paris, the most learned 
 and inventive mathematician of the age in which he liv- 
 ed. It embraced a V'Cry general problem, branched out 
 into a variety of cases : — " Points, straight lines, or cir- 
 cles, together amounting to three, being given, to de- 
 scribe a circle that shall pass through the points, and 
 touch the straight lines or circles." Nearly at the same 
 period, Marinus Ghetaldus, a patrician of Ragusa, who 
 died on his embassy from that small republic to Constan- 
 tinople, solved some of the problems which had escaped 
 Vieta, and left a work of considerable merit on Geome- 
 trical Analysis. Alexander Anderson of Aberdeen, an 
 ancestor of the distinguished family of the Gregorys, 
 published, at Paris, in 1612, a supplement to these 
 works, containing some ingenious improvements. The 
 various tracts relating to the problem of Tangencies, 
 were, about forty years since, collected, condensed, and 
 translated into English by John Lawson, B. D. Rector 
 of Swanscombe, in Kent. The same author has also 
 republished the two books on Determinate Section, as 
 restored by Snellius ; to which is subjoined a similar at- 
 tempt by Mr William Wales, afterwards mathematical 
 master of Christ Church Hospital. In the year 1795, 
 the lemmas used by ApoUonius in his books on Tangcn- 
 cies were printed at Goiba in tlie original Greek from 
 
 Pappus, with the acstoration by Vieta, the history o( 
 the problem, and algebraical calculations derived from 
 the theory of angles, by J. W. Camerer. 
 
 The work of ApoUonius ■ni^i nuirtat, or on Inclina- 
 tions, consisted likewise of two books. It had for its 
 object to solve this problem : — " To insert a straight 
 line, of a given magnitude, and tending to a given point, 
 between two lines which are given in position." This 
 general problem belongs to the higher geometry ; but 
 certain cases of it admit of elegant solutions drawn from 
 the Elements only. Thus, if a semicircle and a per- 
 pendicular to its diameter, or two semicircles on the 
 same straiglit line, be given — a straight line of a given 
 magnitude may be inserted, tending to the extremity of 
 the diameter ; or a straight line may be placed at a given 
 point in the line bisecting a given angle, such that the 
 part intercepted by the sides, or those produced, shall 
 be equal to a given straight line ; and, lastly, a straight 
 line of a given magnitude, may be drawn from the cor- 
 ner of a rhombus, so that the exterior portion of it, in- 
 tercepted between the opposite side and its adjacent 
 side produced, shall be equal to a given straight line. 
 The tract of ApoUonius concerning Inclinations was re- 
 stored by Marinus Ghetaldus ; other solutions were 
 given by Hugo de Omcrique, a gentleman of St Lucar, 
 who published, in 1698, at Cadiz, a treatise on Geome- 
 trical Analysis, full of simple and ingenious construc- 
 tions, but unfortunately in a very contracted form, and 
 obscured by an cwkward sort of notation. Two solutions 
 of the problem of the rhombus, remarkable for their 
 elegance, appeared in the posthumous works of Huy- 
 gens, wlio was imbued with the finest taste for die an- 
 cient geometry. In the year 1770, Dr Horsley, the late 
 bishop of Rochester, printed, in Latin, a restoration of 
 the books on Inclinations, with some pomp at the Claren- 
 don press, and with much parade of learning, but with a 
 small sprinkling of novelty, and, after a clumsy tasteless 
 manner, yet in a tone of arrogance the most congenial 
 to that intolerant churchman. Nine years afterwards, 
 the same task was performed with greater ability, and 
 with far more simplicity and conciseness, by Mr Reuben 
 Burrow, one of those untamed mathematicians, who 
 are frequently met with in the southern part of the 
 island. 
 
 One of the most interesting of all the works of Apol- 
 lonius was that, np Tottui eV/s-eJiav, or on Plane Loci, 
 comprised in two books. It investigated the conditions 
 under which a point, varying in its position', is yet con- 
 fined to the trace of a straight line, or a circle given in 
 position. Those books were in 1650 restored, after a 
 sort of algebi^aical form, by Francis Schoolten, professor 
 of mathematics at Leyden; and more elegantly, though 
 only partially reviewed, by the ingenious Fermat, coun- 
 sellor of the parliament of Toulouse. But all these at- 
 tempts, however skilful, are entirely eclipsed by the fi- 
 nished production, De Locis Plants, which Dr Simson, 
 the great restorer of the ancient geometry, published at 
 Glasgow, in the year 1749. 
 
 The three books that Euclid wrote, ve^i rZt To^ic-i/.alm, 
 or on Porisms, had long proved an enigma which baffled 
 the utmost eflorts of the ablest and most learned mathe- 
 maticians to unravel. The few hints given concerning 
 Porisms by Pappus, are indeed wonderfully obscure, 
 and are farther perplexed by the corrupt and mutilated 
 state of tliat author's text. Albert Girard, a Fleming, 
 who flourished about the year 1630, mentions in a note 
 to his edition of the Statics of Stevinus, that he had re-
 
 ANA 
 
 ANA 
 
 11 
 
 ^lored all the three books of Porisms. This asstriioii, 
 however, seems ratlier questionable, and the manuscript 
 of Girard at least has never been found, l-'ermat ad- 
 vanced some steps in the research; but the honour of 
 completing- tlie discovery was reserved for ihe inijenuily 
 of our countryman, Dr Simson, whose restoration oftlic 
 Porisms appears in tue collection of his posthumous 
 works, printed, in 1776, at the expense of the earl of 
 Stamiope. Another eminent Scotch professor, Mr Play- 
 fair, whose learning embraces a wider range, and whose 
 accuracy of judgment is equaUcd only by his skill in 
 composition, has, in the third volume of the Transac- 
 tions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh, given a com- 
 prehensive and luminous view of that difficult subject, 
 as connected witli tiie history of scientific discovery. 
 See Geometrical Analysis, Inclinations, Porism, 
 Tangency, and Section, (j) 
 
 ANALYSIS. See Chemistry and Logic. 
 
 ANAMAI30A, or Jamisia, a town in the kingdom 
 of Fantin, on what is called the Gold Coast of Africa. 
 The contiguous regions abound in timber, and are fer- 
 tile in corn and all the necessaries of life. The fisheries 
 on the coast are excellent. The soil in the neighbour- 
 hood is well adapted for making bricks, and the shells 
 on the beach furnish an abundant supply of lime. Placed 
 in such favourable circumstances, Anamaboa is the most 
 opulent, popidous, and powerful town on the whole Gold 
 Coast. Its inhabitants, inflated by this comparative su- 
 periority, are peculiarly arrogant. Formerly they were 
 extremely insolent towards the British, who have a fort 
 in this place ; insomuch, that if they disliked the govern- 
 or, they frequently sent him in a canoe to Cape Coast 
 with many marks of contempt. In 1701 the negroes of 
 Fantin declared war against the British traders, as- 
 sembling in a disorderly manner, and setting fire to the 
 exterior parts of the fortification; but the governor, pro- 
 voked by their outrages, opened upon them the artil- 
 lery of the place, and dispersed them without difficulty. 
 The English, in revenge, laid Anamaboa in ashes, and 
 the natives at last, sensible of their own inferiority, were 
 glad to sue for peace. The English fort is a large edi- 
 fice, mounting twelve pieces of cannon, besides an equal 
 number of patereroes. It is flanked towards the land 
 by towers, and towards the sea by two bastions. It 
 stands upon a rock only thirty paces from the sea; but 
 the shore is so inaccessible, that the traders are landed 
 at some distance. The garrison usually consists of 
 twelve whites and eighteen blacks, under the command 
 of the principal factor, [h) 
 
 ANAMOOKA, or Rotterdam Island, one of the 
 Friendly Islands in the Pacific Ocean, or Great South 
 Sea. It was discovered by Tasman A. D. 1643, and is 
 situated in Lat. 20^ 15' South, and Long. 175° 31' West. 
 Anamooka is 18 leagues distant from Tongataboo, or 
 Amsterdam, and it resembles the latter island in its ap- 
 pearance, as well as in the qualities of its soil and pro- 
 ductions. Its shape is triangular, none of its sides be- 
 ing more tlian five miles in length ; and the coast rises 
 abruptly from the sea to the elevation of fifteen or 
 twenty feet. The interior part of the island, however, 
 is level, excepting a few small hillocks, and a more 
 considerable one towards the centre. The principal 
 harbour is on the south west side, and here the an- 
 chorage is good, the depth of v/ater being from ten to 
 twelve fathoms; but it is dangerous to sail in the neigh- 
 bourhood of this island, for it is almost surrounded with 
 reefs and .sand banks, and smaller islands, many of which 
 
 are nearly hidden by the ocean. Anamooka has often 
 been visited by the European navigators ; by Tasman, 
 who discovered it A. D. 1643; by captain Cooke in 
 1774, and again in 1777; by lieuienant Bligh in the 
 Bounty, A. U. 1789; and by captain Edwards twice in 
 1791. The ships in general touch at Uiis inland in or- 
 der to be supplied with wood. Tlie manners of the na- 
 tives do not differ in any great degree from those of the 
 inhabitants in the adjacent islands. Tlieir ideas of pro- 
 perty seem to be less exact, and thefts are more conmion ; 
 the character of their women also is more licentious, 
 and that of the men more daring and warlike. A dis- 
 ease resembling lepra, and which is said to infest all 
 the islands of the Pacific Ocean, prevails more ai Ana- 
 mooka than ill any other part of this group. Syphilis 
 too, introduced by the English, has made an alarming 
 progress among the inhabitants; a progress resembling 
 that which the same awful disease made among the na- 
 tives of Europe when it first appeared in the eastern 
 hemisphere. It may be useful likewise to add, that as 
 wood is procured here by all the ships which pass 
 through the Southern Ocean, the juice of a tree called 
 by the natives faitanoo (a species of pepper) produces 
 violent innanimalion when applied to the eyes and the 
 suiface of the body: an accident which frequently hap- 
 pens to the workmen employed in cutting it. Cooke's 
 Voyages. Missionary Voyage; Freliininary Discourse, 
 p. 56, ct seq. (/)) 
 
 ANAMORPHOSIS, a mon.strous projection, or dis- 
 torted representation of some object, made either on a 
 plane or curved surface, but which viewed from a cer- 
 tain point, or after reflection from a polished surface, 
 will appear in just proportions. 
 
 To construct upon a given plane an anamorphosis, 
 which, viewed from a given point above the plane, shall 
 appear similar to tlie original drawing. Around the 
 picture to be distorted describe a square a g p i, (sec 
 Plate XXVI. Fig. 1.) which subdivide into a number of 
 areoise or smaller squares; this reticulated figure is 
 called the craticular prototype. Let i p. R (Fig. 2.) be 
 the plane on which the anamorphosis is to be construct- 
 ed, R the point which lies directly under the eye, and a 
 g a straight line in that plane, equal to the base of the 
 craticular prototype, and divided into the same number 
 of equal parts. From the point R through the points n, 
 6, f, rf, e,fgy draw the diverging straight lines R /, R k, 
 R /, &c.; and through R draw R O parallel to a g, and 
 equal to the height of the eye above the plane. Then 
 through the points O, a, draw straight line O a /i, cut- 
 ting the diverging lines in the points a, rj, r, s, /, u, fi. 
 Through these points of intersection draw straight lines 
 parallel to a g, and terminated both ways by the lines a i 
 and 5' /i, the trapezium a^/i/,and the several lesser tra- 
 peziums into which it is thus subdivided, represent the 
 craticular prototype and its several areols. This tra- 
 pezium is called the craticular ectype. In each areola 
 of the craticular ectype draw those parts of the original 
 picture which are contained in the corresponding square 
 of the prototype, and thus an anamorphosis shall be form- 
 ed, which to an eye situated immediately above die 
 point R at the height O R will appear in exactly the 
 same proportions, and of the same magnitude with the 
 original picture. As we increase the distance of R 
 from a g, and diminish O R the height of the eye above 
 the plane, the anamorphosis produced will be more com- 
 pletely deformed; so that when O R is exceedingly 
 small, an eye looking direct at the anamorphosis wiil
 
 712 
 
 ANA 
 
 ANA 
 
 not perceive in it any resemblance to the original pic- 
 ture. 
 
 To draw an anamorphosis which will be restored to 
 its proper form by reflection from the surface of a cylin- 
 der. Let R be the point situated immediately under 
 the eye, O R the height of the eye, a 6 x ^ the base of 
 the cylinder. Describe a reticular square round the 
 picture to be distorted, and form a craticular eclype a 
 g Ji i, as in the former case; then the diverging lines 
 R /, R k; R I, &c. v.ill each cut the circle in two puinis. 
 From the point ec in which R i cuts tlie circle, draw the 
 straight line « y. equal to « f , and produce it to I, making 
 a I equal to u. i, and from the point £ in which R k cuts 
 the circle, set oft' b A equal to f 5-, and produce it to K, 
 making S K equal to S k: In a similar manner draw the 
 several lines yL, ^M, kc. diverging from the cylinder, 
 and to these lines transfer the points of division on the 
 respective lines » i, C /c, &c. Draw regular curves by 
 estimation through the points 1, K, L, M, N, O, P, and 
 through A, B, C, D, E, F, G, and through each inter- 
 mediate order of points ; the figure ADGPMI thus di- 
 vided will be a deformed copy ot the reticulated square, 
 described round the original picture, the base of the 
 prototype being represented by the curved line ABCDE 
 FG. 
 
 By transferring into each areola of the curved ectype 
 whatever is contained in the correspondent areola of the 
 prototype, an anamorphosis will be formed, which shall 
 be reduced to its just proportions, by reflection from the 
 cylinder a 6 x. 
 
 To draw an anamorphosis upon the convex surface 
 of a given cone, and which shall appear in just propor- 
 tion to an eye, elevated at a given height above the ver- 
 tex of the cone. Let ACBD, (Fig 3.) the base of the 
 cone, be divided by radii into any number of equal parts ; 
 then let one of the radii be also divided into several 
 equal parts, and through the points of division describe 
 concentric circles, so shall the craticular prototype be 
 formed. 
 
 With EP (Fig. 4.) the side of the cone as radius, de- 
 scribe the circle EFL, and from it cut off a sector 
 EFP, such as that the arch EF shall be the same part 
 of the whole circumference, which AB is of twice EP; 
 this sector being plied round the cone, will cover its 
 surface. 
 
 Divide the arc EF into the same number of equal 
 parts, which the craticular prototype is divided into, and 
 draw radii to all the points of division. Then in the 
 circle EFL, place the straight line FL equal to AB the 
 diameter of the prototype, bisect it in K and from K to 
 P draw the straight line KP, and produce it to Q, so 
 that PQ may be equal to the height at which the eye is 
 to be elevated above the vertex of the cone, join LP and 
 divide LK into the same number of equal parts with the 
 radius of the prototype, and from P to the points of divi- 
 sion draw lines cutting PL in the points 0, h, ?n. Lastly, 
 from P as centre with the radii P 0, P «, P m, &c. de- 
 scribe concentric arcs rs, fu, via, thus shall the craticu- 
 lar ectype be formed. What is delineated in the seve- 
 ral areolae of the prototype, being now transferred to the 
 corresponding areolae of the ectype ; an anamorphosis 
 will be formed, which when wrapped round the surface 
 of the given cone, will seem reduced to its just propor- 
 tions, when viewed from a point elevated above the ver- 
 tex of the cone at a height equal to EP. 
 
 The various kinds of anamorphosis may be formed 
 mechanically in the following manner. Perforate with 
 
 a fine needle the principal points of the picture which 
 is to be distorted, and place it before a candle, and then 
 mark on what points of the surface which is to contain 
 the anamorphosis, the rays passing through the small 
 holes tall. These will be the correspondent points in the 
 distorted painting. Ii is hardly necessary to mention, 
 that when it is intended by tliis method to draw an ana- 
 morphosis, which shall be reformed by reflection, we 
 must place the perforated picture between the candle 
 and the reflecting surface. 
 
 These pictures are sometimes contrived so ingeni- 
 ously, as when viewed directly to appear like some re- 
 gular drawing, such as an encampment, Sec. but when 
 viewed obliquely like some differentobject. See Niceron's 
 Thaumaturgus Opticus. Lutman iMim. Imfier. Acad 
 Peter, vol. iv. Wolfii Klementa Alatheacos, vol. iii. c. 5. 
 p. 99. Priestley's Hist, of Viswn, p. 93 — 96. Schottus's 
 Magia, vol. i. p. 162. Smith's Ofitics, vol. i. b. 2d. p. 
 248 — 251. Mutton's Dictionary, art. Anamorphosis. 
 ^+) 
 
 ANARCHIEDS, in Zoology, a genus of fishes 
 belonging to the order Apodes. Sec Ichthyology. 
 
 (/) 
 
 ANAS, in Zoology, a genus of water birds belonging 
 to tlie order Amesis. See Ornithology. (/) 
 
 ANASPIS,in Zoology, a genus of coleopterous insects, 
 formed by Geoffroy, remarkable for having that part of 
 the body called the scatetlum or escutcheon, so small as 
 scarcely to be visible, whence the name, from a privative 
 and «5-!Tj{, a shield. [/) 
 
 ANASTASIUS I. surnamed Dicorus, Emperor of 
 Constantinople, succeeded Zeno I. in 491. Zeno had left 
 no issue ; and the principal personages of his court con- 
 tended about the succession. Anastasius, though at 
 that time high in office, was of low extraction ; but by 
 the influence of Ariadne, Zeno's widow, (whose favourite 
 he had been during the life even of the late emperor, 
 and whose husband he became a few days after his death,) 
 he was the successful competitor. He found the em- 
 pire in a state of peace, and seemed desirous to pre- 
 serve it from the evils of war. He began his reign very 
 auspiciously, and adopted many beneficial measures. 
 He relieved his subjects from some heavy public burdens ; 
 prohibited several barbarous amusements ; abolished the 
 practice of selling public offices ; and filled them with 
 persons of worth and talents. He was soon involved, 
 however, in various troubles, excited partly by Lon- 
 ginus, the late emperor's brother, and partly by the vio- 
 lence of theological disputes. In order to preserve 
 peace, he prohibited the keen agitation of these sub- 
 jects, especially of the Eutychian heresy, to which he 
 himself was supposed to be inclined. He deposed 
 Euphemius, patriarch of Constantinople, who had dis- 
 regarded this prohibition, and appointed Macedonius in 
 his place. He soon began, however, to take a principal 
 shaTe in these disputes himself, and openly favoured 
 heretical sentiments. He seemed to have completely 
 changed his nature ; and became both a tyrannical and 
 persecuting prince. He was excommunicated by Pope 
 Symmachus on these accounts ; but this only increased 
 his rage against the orthodox clergy. He banished 
 Macedonius, who had always been a steady, but tem- 
 perate opponent to his ecclesiastical proceedings ; and 
 put to. death several persons of distinction, who adhered 
 to the sentiments of that patriarch. Pope Normisda sent 
 legates to remonstrate with him on tiiese proceedings, 
 but he treated them with very little respect, and re-
 
 ANA 
 
 AKA 
 
 713 
 
 turned to his holiness the following reply, nos imji<;rare 
 volumus, noMs iinjtcrari tiolumu.i. ills dominions were 
 frequently altackod by his enemies, anil by his rebellious 
 governors ; but he always endeavoured rather to pur- 
 chase peace by money, than to secure it by active 
 measures. lie was particularly (lislressed by Vita- 
 lianus, the Scythian, who even laid sieg-c to Constan- 
 tinople ; but he at length procured his departure by a 
 sum of money. It is said, that, in this war he was as- 
 sisted in a remarkable manner by Proclus, an eminent 
 mathematician, to whom he had shewn great favour ; 
 who, like another Archimedes, destroyed the navy of 
 V'italiaims by immense burning glasses. In the midst 
 of all these external attacks, the city of Constantinople 
 was continually disturbed by internal commotions, ex- 
 cited by the contending theological parties ; and these 
 were greatly increased by the interference of Anas- 
 tasius. lie insisted upon the addition of a very ob- 
 jectionable clause to the doxclogy, which was generally 
 used in divine service.* This was considered as favour- 
 ing the heretical opinions, which then prevailed upon 
 the subject of the trinity ; and a keen resistance was 
 made to its adoption. The commotions, on this ac- 
 count, rose to so great a height, that the emperor found 
 it necessary to repair to the circus without his crown, 
 and in the habit of a suppliant, where he succeeded in 
 appeasing the multitude by his humble appearance and 
 conciliating address. But, notwithstanding these tumults 
 in his capital, and other calamities througliout his domi- 
 nions, he is said to have proceeded to still greater op- 
 pressions. Hediscovered, that a conspiracy had been 
 formed against him, and put to death several of his 
 household, on suspicion of their having been concerned 
 in the plot. It is related, by the Catholic writers, that 
 he was warned by a vision of his wickedness ; and that 
 various oracles predicted, that he should perish by fire. 
 To avoid this threatened evil, he lived in a round tower, 
 built entirely of stone, under the direction of Proclus, 
 the mathematician ; but, in the midst of this building, 
 he was struck with lightning during a thunder storm ; and 
 thus died in the 88th year of his age, after a reign of 27 
 years and some months, and in the year of our Lord 518. 
 Esprinchard. Hist. vol. i. p. 690. Godeau. Hist. F.g-loac. 
 c. iii. I. 3. Tursillin. H/iit. 1. 6. c. ii. Baronius. .i/ic. Un. 
 Hist. vol. xvi. p. 603, Sec. ((/) 
 
 ANASTASIUS II. whose original name was Ar- 
 temius, succeeded Philippicus in the throne of Constan- 
 tinople in 713. He had been chief secretary to the for- 
 mer emperor, and was chosen as his successor by the 
 voice of the people. He was a man of great learning, 
 and by long experience was well calculated for the man- 
 agement of public affairs, lie was a zealous Catholic ;and, 
 without neglecting the business of the state, he made it 
 his great study to heal the divisions in the church. la 
 order to protect his dominions against the Saracens, he 
 sent a powerful army into Syria, under Leo the Isaurl- 
 can, an experienced commander. He also put the city 
 of Constantinople in a proper state of defence, and provi- 
 ded it abundantly with provisions, when it was threat- 
 ened with a siege. He fitted out a fleet, put on board 
 a considerable numiser of troops, and sent them to !)e- 
 siege Alexandria, in Egypt. But, after causing a short 
 
 alarm to tlie inhabitants of that city, they rcttlilicd oo 
 some trilling pnaence to Phoenicia. The emperor, who 
 was Jiighly displeased wi.h their inactivity, sent ordcrfi 
 to the officers to resume, without delay, ihe object of 
 their expedition. But llic soldieiy, who, with the sub- 
 jects of the empire in general, had been gradually in- 
 creasing in a contempt of all authoritj , broke out into 
 mutiny ; declared Athanasius luiWonhy of the empire ; 
 compelled Theoflosius, a person of mean birth, to ac- 
 cept the crown ; and marched by land towards Constan- 
 tinople. Anastasius, despising the inexperienced char- 
 acter of liis competitor, levied an army, met Thcodosius 
 at Nice, in Bythinia, gave him battle, was beaten, taken 
 prisoner, and deprived of his crown, after a reign of 
 little more than fifteen months. His life was spared, 
 upon condition of his renouncing all claims to the em- 
 pire ; and he was banished to Thessalonica, where he 
 assumed the habit of a monk. But wcaiy of a private 
 life, he collected an army of Bulgarians, in the reign of 
 Leo, (uho had succeeded Thcodosius under the pretence 
 of restoring Anastasius,) and marched to Constantinople. 
 His disorderly troops, meeting with greater opposition 
 than they had expected, delivered him up to the em- 
 peror, v ho put him to death, with several persons of 
 distinction, who favoured his cause. See ^Indent Un^ 
 Hist, vol. xvii. p. 37, 40. Hi.tt. .^ug: Anastasius. [(/) 
 
 ANASTALICA, a genus of plants of the class 
 Tetradynamia, and order Siliculosce. Sec Botanv-. 
 
 ANATHEMA, from xix^i:/^^, an offei ing made to a 
 god, and so called because de/iosilcc! in the temple, 
 where it was either laid on the floor, or liung up on the 
 wall, or some conspicuous place. These offerings were 
 presented either in acknowledgment of the favour of 
 their deities, or in order to deprecate tl;eir vengeance. 
 On these occasions they consisted generally of crowns 
 and garlands, garmcnts,or vessels of gold and silver. It 
 was customary, likewise, on relinquishing any occupation, 
 todedicate tothe particular deities, who were supposed to 
 preside over it, the instruments which, in exercising it, 
 were chiefly employed. Thus shepherds presented to 
 Faunus or Pan, their crook or their pipe, and poets hung 
 up their lyre to Apollo. 
 
 ANATHEMA, from av^.^if^a, c'cnotcs an excommuni- 
 cation attended with curses, and is of two kinds, judiciary 
 and abjuratory. By the judiciary anathema, the offender 
 is not merely excommunicated, but is totally separated 
 from all intercourse with the faithful, and is delivered 
 over, soul and body, to Satan. The abjuratory anathema 
 is prescribed to converts, who are oblitced to anathema- 
 tize their forincr heresy. In the New Testament, and 
 in the censures of the primitive church, we meet with 
 an extraordinary form of censure, anathema maranatha. 
 Maranatfia signifies, "The Lord is come;" and the 
 denunciation, "Let him he anathema maranatha," may 
 be interpreted, "Let him be accursed at the coming of 
 our Lord." This was the most dreadful imprecation 
 among the Jews ; and has been paraphrased thus, " May 
 he be devoted to the greatest of evils, and to the utmost 
 severity of the Divine judgment; may the Lord come 
 ciuickly to take vengeance upon him." 
 
 ANATOLIA. See Natolia. 
 
 • Tliis sliort hymn was as follows : ay/o; <j .^.'oc, uyioi ic-^v^a, iiyiai; aSxvxIeg; "Holy flod, Ilnly llie Powerru!, Holy the Im- 
 mortal." It was called the r^is-ayioi; or "Thrice Holy ;" and the usual additiou made to it was, ayiar^iui iMr,i-<ty rnxi, " Holy 
 Triiiity, have mcrcv on us," Instead of this, Anastasius required the following clause to be adopted, c ^c.vQai ■<; d i ritxti, " Who wast 
 ri-ucified for us ;" but, as this seemed to express, that the whole Trinity had suffered, it was opposed by the ordiodos clergy. 
 V'oL. I. Part Ii. 4 X
 
 14 
 
 ANATOMY, 
 
 In its primary acccplalion, signified merely the art of 
 dissecting, and is derived from the Greek word M»Tff<.ta, 
 to cut asunder. It is now used, however, in a more 
 general and enlarged sense, to denote the science, whose 
 object is to investigate the structure of organized bo- 
 dies, or antj kind jj' dc/>ionstralion,v/hcti\i:r by the knite, 
 or by any other means, wliicli that science requires. 
 Anatomy has been divided into three great branches, 
 Human, Comparative, and Morbid Anatomy. The 
 first refers exclusively to tlie structure ot the human 
 feotly ; the second, to the structure of the lower animals 
 compared with that of man ; the third, investigates the 
 causes and the effecls of disease. 
 
 Those only who have acquired some knowledge of 
 this science, can fully appreciate its value ; but of its 
 extensive and various applications, there arc some whose 
 importance is so obvious as to be universally understood. 
 To the surgeon and the physician it is peculiarly neces- 
 sary ; for, without an intimate acquaintance with anatomy, 
 how shall they be enabled to repair the injuries to which 
 the body is liable, to explain the various symptoms of 
 disease, or to employ the proper means for its removal? 
 To the naturalist it affords essential aid ; enabling him 
 to discern, in the animal form and structure, many of 
 the causes of the variety of temper, genius, propensi- 
 ties, and habits. The statuary and the painter, who wish 
 to excel in the representation of animated nature, must 
 devote to this science a great portion of their study. 
 Without the aid of anatomy, it is impossible either to 
 observe with accuracy, or to delineate justly, the minute, 
 but important varieties of feature, limb, or muscles, 
 which characterise particular passions, feedings, or at- 
 titudes. In me dical jurisprudence, a knowledge of 
 the animal structure is found to be still more indispensa- 
 ble. The judge, who has not made this his particular 
 study, is ill qualified for the discharge of his sacred and 
 awfully responsible duties. In many cases, he must be 
 incompetent to decide on the nature of facts, and of 
 course may often condemn where there is no sufficient 
 evidence of guilt. Nay, it has sometimes happened, 
 that the counsel for a prisoner, from mistaking the nature 
 of the questions which he proposed, has inadvertently be- 
 come evidence against his client. At any rate, when the 
 case is such, that the sentence is to depend, not upon the 
 simple evidence of facts, but upon the opinion which is 
 formed of their consequences, it must be regulated by a 
 knowledge of the nature of the animal economy ; and, 
 for this reason, not only the decisions of a court, but the 
 laws of a nation have sometimes been founded on medi- 
 cal opinion. 
 
 To every reflecting mind, indeed, the wonderful me- 
 chanism of the human body is a subject of the most in- 
 teresting contemplation. What curiosity can be more 
 natural, what can more nearly concern us, than to be 
 acc|uainted with every part of that corporeal frame, 
 which is, as it were, the vehicle of the soul, the organ 
 through which it acquires all its ideas, the instrument 
 which it employs in all its operations, and on the order 
 or derangement of which so much of our happiness de- 
 pends i To those who take pleasure in recognizing the 
 Deity in his works, what study can be more gratifying 
 than that of the animal structure, which exhibits so 
 many striking proofs of divine wisdom and benevolence ? 
 
 So fully were the ancient theists aware of the aid which 
 anatomy aftbrds to religion, " that they have derived 
 from this source more arguments in favour of the exist- 
 ence, wisdom, and providence of a Deity, than from all 
 the productions of nature besides j" and indeed these 
 arguments will be lound, not only the most numerous, 
 but the most clear and decisive, and the best calculated 
 to confirm the sentiments of rational piety, and to induce 
 habits of active religion and virtue. 
 
 Before entering upon the detail of this science, it will 
 be at once useful and amusing, to trace it through the 
 various stages of its history ; to mark its alternate ad- 
 vances and retrogressions, and the discoveries by which 
 it has at length been brought to its present state of per- 
 fection. To enable our readers to accompany us in this 
 retrospect, it will be necessar}' to give a general de- 
 scription of the different parts of the human body; for 
 without this, they would often be impeded by unintelli- 
 gible terms, and could neither observe the progress of 
 the science, nor form a just estimate of the respective 
 merits of those who have contributed to its improve- 
 ment. 
 
 In entering upon a description of the human body, 
 our attention is naturally directed first to the Bones. 
 Osteology, or that branch of anatomy which treats of 
 the bones, is of more importance to the surgeon, the 
 physician, and natural historian, than is generally ima- 
 gined ; and has been regarded by the most eminent ana- 
 tomists, as the foundation on which the whole structure 
 of the science must be raised. The bones vary in num- 
 ber, appearance, and texture, according to their age. 
 At birth, many of them arc soft, flexible, transparent ; 
 containing no osseous matter; but divided into several 
 portions, which are afterwards to be united in their pro- 
 gress to maturity. In the full-grown subject, they are 
 the firmest, hardest and most solid part- of the whole 
 body; all of them are permanent except the first crop 
 of teeth, which are shed at an early period ; and when 
 the whole are ossified, they amount, in the human sub- 
 ject, to about two hundred and forty. 
 
 As they give form and stability to the body, they must, 
 of course, be in some manner connected with each 
 other. Accordingly, they are generally found connected 
 by unequal surfaces, whose cavities and eminences mu- 
 tually correspond. Of these joinings, which are called 
 articulations, there are so many that they have never 
 been enumerated. They are divided into classes of 
 three different kinds. The first kind admits of a free, 
 easy, and conspicuous motion ; the motion of the second 
 is rather obscure ; the third has no motion, or at least 
 it is imperceptible. These classes, with their varieties, 
 or particular species, are in all about nine. 
 
 As the roughness of the bones, however, would pre- 
 vent them from moving freely without much friction, in 
 all cases where motion occurs there must be some in- 
 tervening substance to obviate this inconvenience. In 
 the recent subject, accordingly, we invariably find, that 
 all those articulating surfaces, which are liable to mo- 
 tion, are covered with a smooth elastic substance, of a 
 pearl colour, known, in common language, by the name 
 of gristle, and in anatomy by that of cartilage. To ren- 
 der the motion still easier, the cartilage is lubricated by 
 a fluid, called synovia ; which is of the sa.me service to
 
 ANATOMY 
 
 715 
 
 ihe diflcreut joints that oil is to ii piece of machinery. 
 -These articulations, alone, however, would be iusuHi- 
 cicnt either to regulate the motion of the bones, or to 
 preserve them in their situation. The bones must 
 therefore be connected by some intermediate substance. 
 Cartilage forms sometimes the link of connection, but, 
 besides cartilage, there are throe other connecting sub- 
 stances — ligaments, membranes, and flesh. Ligaments 
 are strong flexible substances, of a fibrous texture, whi- 
 tish, glistening, and of little elasticity. Their forms, 
 situations, and uses, are extremely various. With re- 
 spect to the bones, they are generally placed on the 
 outside of the articulation, and secure tlie parts by their 
 great strength and vigorous adhesion. So important is 
 the knowledge of these ligaments in the practice of 
 surgery, and in explaining many symptoms which occur 
 in the joints from disease or accident, that a separate 
 branch of anatomy has been appropriated to them, un- 
 der the name of Hydesmology. The particular ligaments 
 have not been enumerated ; but reckoning classes some- 
 times as pairs, those which have lieen described and 
 named are about an hundred. 
 
 The membranes, the next connecting substance, when 
 they surround the extremities of the bones, and contri- 
 bute to the security of the joints, are called cafisular 
 ligaments. Membranes, in general, are thin webs of a 
 whitish colour, more flexible and elastic than ligaments. 
 Besides contributing to the security of the joints, and 
 facilitating their movement, they answer many other 
 very important purposes. They line all the external 
 cavities; they surround every organ in the body; and 
 while they unite the whole together, they at the same 
 time secure the separate and peculiar motion of each 
 part; making it sometimes to conspire with the whole, 
 and sometimes to act as distinct and independent. They 
 frequently vary in strength, texture, and appearance, 
 and have different names, according to their different 
 positions. Two within the cranium are called matres ; 
 some which inclose bundles of flesh are called aponeu- 
 roses; the membrane which lines the cavity of the 
 breast, and surrounds its viscera, is termed pleura; that 
 which surrounds the cavity of the abdomen and its vis- 
 cera is denominated peritoneum ; those which surround 
 bones are styled periostea, and those which surround 
 cartilages, perichondria; when they surround any other 
 organ, they are generally called tunics, or coats. 
 
 The other substance which connects the bones is flesh. 
 The fore-legs, or, in the language of anatomy, the su- 
 perior extremities of many quadrupeds, adhere chiefly 
 by this connection to the rest of the system. This sub- 
 stance, indeed, contributes to the security of all the 
 joints, although its principal use is widely different, 
 and much more important. 
 
 Having discovered how the bones are joined by arti- 
 culating surfaces, and preserved in their situation by 
 connecting substances, we must now inquire by what 
 means they are put in motion. On the slightest exa- 
 mination, we perceive, that all the motions in the body 
 are produced by means of bundles of flesh, which have 
 received the name of muscles. These bundles, or fas- 
 ciculi, frequently consist of two parts ; the one flesh, the 
 other a white glistening substance, not unlike ligament, 
 which, in common language, is called sinew, but is bet- 
 ter known in anatomy by the name of tendon. Both the 
 fleshy and tendinous parts are composed of fibres, which 
 again are composed of others still smaller. The con- 
 stituent fibres have never been enumerated, nor indeed 
 
 all the fasciculi which they compose. The number oi 
 those fasciculi which have been described and named, 
 reckoning classes sometimes as pairs, amounts to nearly 
 four hundred. The branch of anatomy which treats of 
 these organs, is styled myology; a knowledge of which 
 is extremely useful in the treatment of dislocations and 
 fractures; and to those who study gesture and altitude, 
 and the various movements of diflerent aninrals, in 
 swimming, walking, leajjing, or flying — perhaps the 
 most curious and interesting part of the whole science. 
 The motions of these organs aic performed by alternate 
 contractions and relaxations of the fleshy part; but tlicse 
 motions seem to depend on some other cause, which it 
 therefore becomes necessary to investigate. 
 
 On minute examination, while filaments, or ropes, arc 
 observed entering, not only the several muscles, but all 
 the diflerent organs of the body; and, when traced to 
 their origin, they are found to terminate in the brain, or 
 in its production, the spinal marrow. These filaments, 
 which are called nerves, besides being necessary in all 
 the different functions of the system, have been found, 
 by observation and experiment, to be organs of sense, 
 motion, and feeling. Many of them are subject to the 
 will ; so that the animal can regulate a variety of its 
 motions at pleasure. They derive their energy from 
 the vital power; but whether immediately, or through 
 the medium of some other substance, anatomists have 
 not been able to discover. They separate into numerous 
 filaments, which, in many instances, cannot be traced. 
 Some of them swell into small knots, called ganglia; 
 and some of them form, by means of other filaments, a 
 sort of network, which is known by the name of plexus. 
 Forty trunks issue Irom the head and spine; but these 
 trunks, with their ganglia and plexus, their branches 
 and parts which have been distinguished by names, 
 amount to more than a hundred. 
 
 Having thus seen how the bones are joined, by what 
 substances they are connected, by what organs they are 
 put in motion, and what is the cause of that motion, we 
 must next investigate the means of their growth. 
 Growth necessarily supposes a regular and constant 
 supply of nourishment. Whence, then, is the nourish- 
 ment derived ? and by what means is it conveyed to the 
 several organs ? On examining the animal structure, we 
 find, that the only vehicle of nourishment must be the 
 blood, which flows tlirough a thousand channels into all 
 the different parts of the system. The blood, when al- 
 lowed to rest, spontaneously separates into two parts, 
 the one fluid and the other solid; by a slight pressure, 
 the solid is again divided into other two; but chemical 
 analysis proves, that it consists of many diSferent ingre- 
 dients. Every person is acquainted with the singular 
 colour of this fluid. Lower observed, that it received 
 this colour in the lungs, or the organs of breathing. 
 Mayow demonstrated, that the colour was occasioned 
 by the air, which we regularly inspire ; and experience 
 has taught, that without this regular supply of air, the 
 blood could neither support life, nor convey nourishment 
 to the different parts of the system. It is natural to 
 suppose, that the heart, which is the great fountain of 
 the blood, will send some to the lungs, in order to re- 
 ceive this aerial pabulum, which Mayow likewise proved 
 to be the cause of animal heat. Man, accordingly, and 
 many other animals, are furnished with a double heart, 
 or at least two cavities, which are named ventricles; 
 one for sending the blood to the lungs to receive air, 
 and the other for distributing it afterwards for the sake 
 4X2
 
 716 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 of nourishment through the system, and even to the 
 heart, and the kings tliemselves. 
 
 To explain the cause of the constant and impetuous 
 flow of the blood, it is necessary to inform our readers, 
 that the heart is u muscle, whicli, through the influence 
 of its nervous energy, is made to contract and relax al- 
 ternately more than sixty limes in a minute. Wlien it 
 relaxes, its two cavities, or ventricles are enlarged, and 
 the blood flows in ; when it contracts, the ventricles arc 
 dinunished, and the Ijlood is propelled into two large 
 pil)cs; the one leading directly to the lungs, the other 
 communicating with tne rest of the system. These pipes, 
 or vessels, are named arteries; and as they likewise 
 have a muscular power, and are somewhat elastic, by 
 similar contractions, which are the cause of pulsation, 
 they impel the blood towards their extremities, while 
 certain valves, placed at tlieir origin, prevent it from 
 returning in the same direction. 
 
 For the more minute and equal distribution of this 
 fluid, the two arteries which proceed from the heart 
 spread into a great variety of branches. These branches 
 frequently communicate, apparently with this intention 
 of nature, that when any ol them are obstructed, the 
 parts may be duly supplied by others with which they 
 inosculate. These various branches are numerous be- 
 yond computation: many of them, however, are de- 
 scribed by anatomists ; and those branches, or parts of 
 branches, which have received names, reckoning classes 
 sometimes as pairs, amount to rather more than a hun- 
 dred. 
 
 As the valves, hov.'evcr, prevent the blood from re- 
 turning in the course of the arteries, it must be con- 
 veyed through other channels back to the lungs to re- 
 ceive the necessary supply of air. By many experiments 
 and observations, Ilarvey discovered, that the last ca- 
 pillary branches of arteries are continued into other ca- 
 pillary branches which convey the blood in a different 
 direction; that these last afterwards uniting, formed 
 branches of a larger size, and that these again, also 
 tmiting, form others still larger, till the whole, by reite- 
 rated unions, form two irunks, which, conveying the 
 blood from all the uppi;r and lower extremities, meet at 
 the rir-ht side of the heart, and discharge their contents 
 into a thin muscular sac, called auricle, which, by con- 
 tracting, propels it onwa'd to the right ventricle, from 
 which it is again throv.n into the lungs by the pulmonary 
 artery. This artery, as already mentioned, separates in- 
 to numberless capillary branches, which being conti- 
 nued into others similar to those which we have been 
 describing convey the blood into another auricle placed 
 on the left side of the heart. From this auricle it is 
 transmitted to the left ventricle, and from thence driven 
 again into the artery which nourishes the system. Such 
 is the regular course of the blood, which is called its 
 CIRCULATION J and the discovery of which has confer- 
 red so much honour upon Harvey, — a man not less dis- 
 tinguished by his unassuming modesty, than by the tran- 
 scendent excellence of his genius. 
 
 The vessels v.hich convey the blood in a retrograde 
 course have been called veins. They are still more nu- 
 merous than the arteries ; are usually found lying by 
 their sides, and are described by nearly similar names. 
 They have a much less muscular power, and most of 
 them are assisted by a number of valves, situated at 
 small distances in their course. 
 
 But this, it may be said, is no explanation whatever of 
 »he maimer in which the system is nourished ; for if 
 
 the arteries be continued into veins, and none of the 
 blood escape from the course of circulation, how is 
 nourishment miparled to the various organs .' To ac- 
 count fortliis, we must suppose that some vessels break 
 off from the course ol circulation, and lerminate oUier- 
 wise than in venous branches. In effect, we find that 
 various series of branches belong to the arteries ; that 
 the ultimate series are so miimte as not to admit the red 
 or thicker part of the blood ; that many of them, there- 
 fore, are destined to convey only the inin and pellucid 
 part of the circulating fluid, and tliat of tliese many 
 wander from the circle, and empty themselves into 
 bones, muscles, ligaments, nerves, and the other parts 
 of which the animal fabric is composed; atid that then, 
 each part, by a vital process termed anisimilution, con- 
 verts this fluid into a substance of its own specific cha- 
 racter and properties. We observe, besides, that these 
 vessels pour out their fluids into all the cavities, and 
 many of them into bodies of various shapes, sizes, and 
 structures, which afterwards convert them into other 
 fluids of a diflerent quality. To these bodies anatomists 
 have given the name oi glands. Some of them prepare 
 a particular fluid to lubricate the joints, and the parts 
 in motion ; some furnish fluids to promote digestion, and 
 assist in the preparation of aliment ; some yield fluids to 
 protect the skin, and to preserve it in a proper state 
 for performing its several offices ; some a fluid which is 
 employed as one of the means of generathig the species ; 
 and some a fluid which serves to nourish the oflspring 
 for some time alter its birth. 
 
 But though we have thus provided for the nourish- 
 ment of the system, by allowing the fluids to escape 
 from the course ot circulation, still it may be asked, 
 what have we gained by this explanation ? Is not the 
 difficulty now rather increased ? for having allowed the 
 fluids to escape from the course of circulation, to be 
 lodged in bones, ligaments, muscles, and close cavities, 
 how arc they returned ? How shall we dispose of them '. 
 And by what means, when the body is wasting, shall the 
 decayed parts be carried off? As these fluids do not ac- 
 cumulate in the healthy state of a living body, there 
 must, of course, be some way by which they get out, or 
 some other system of vessels besides veins, by which 
 they return to the mass of blood. For the solution of 
 this difficulty vie are chiefly indebted to Rudbcck and 
 Baith.oline, who discovered about the same time, a sys- 
 tem of vessels that convey back to the blood all the de- 
 cayed parts, and all those thin and pellucid fluids which 
 wander from the course of circulation. From the clear 
 and watery appearance of the fluid which they contain, 
 they were named hjmphalicss ; they arise from all the in- 
 ternal cavities, and from every organ in the whole body. 
 Still more numerous than the veins, they branch out in a 
 similar manner, and terminate in two trunks, whose con- 
 tents arc emptied into the veins, a little before they enter 
 the heart. 
 
 Having thus conducted the lymphatic fluid, and all 
 the decayed parts of the system, back to the blood, our 
 next concern must be how to dispose of them. It is 
 very evident that these fluids are conveyed back, either 
 that they may undergo new preparations to fit them 
 again for the situations which they formerly occupied, 
 or to be thrown by some evacuants out of the system. 
 If, after undergoing new preparations, they are to retum 
 to the situations which they formerly occupied, what oc- 
 casion is there for constant and regular supplies of ali- 
 ment \ For if tlte supplies of aliment be necessary, Vt
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 17 
 
 will be difllcult to assign areason why the decayed parts 
 of the system should be retained. Sujjplius ot aliment, 
 however, are necessary, and therefore il follows, Uial the 
 decayed parts of the system must be thrown oiu. This 
 conclusion involves us in new embarrassment ; for by 
 what channels are we to discharge them i For this pur- 
 pose wc must resort ut;ain to the vessels which wander 
 from the course of circulation; for we observe, that 
 many of these open externally upon the skin, and, on the 
 internal surface of the lungs, into two large glands cal- 
 led kichiies, and into that winding canal which begins at 
 the mouth and ends at the orifice, which is named a7iits. 
 By these outlets, then, we can explain how, along with 
 the vapour, from the lungs, the perspirable matter of the 
 skin, the fecal discharge, and the urine, all the decayed 
 parts are evacuated. 
 
 But how is the blood enabled to sustain this loss ? Or 
 by what channels are its supplies conveyed into the 
 course of circulation ? We see the food taken into the 
 mouth, masticated by the teeth, and plentifully mixed 
 with the juice called saliva, which flows into the mouth 
 from a great number of neighbouring glands. As it 
 moves along, it receives more juice from vessels and 
 other glands on the passage : it arrives soon at a large 
 dilatation of this canal, called the stomach, where it 
 meets with another juice, named the gaslric Juice. The 
 canal, as it proceeds from the stomach, Ijccomes narrow 
 and is named intestine : here it has many convolutions, 
 and is nearly six times the length of the body. Into this 
 portion of the canal, likewise, glands and vessels con- 
 tinue to pour their fluids, to lubricate the tube, or to as- 
 sist in the preparation of aliment. Two of these fluids 
 are remarkable ; one of a greenish colour and a bitter 
 taste, which is named bile, and is secreted in the liver ; 
 the other, called pancreatic juice, from the large gland 
 in which it is prepared. By the assistance of all tiiese, 
 juices, by the heat of the body, and by the action of tlie 
 canal, which possesses a degree of muscular power, all 
 the nutritious part of food is converted into a white and 
 thin fluid, resembling milk, which is called chyle. Sup- 
 pose now, that the whole nutritious part of the food is 
 converted into this fluid, it is very evident, that it must 
 by some means or other find its way into the blood ; but 
 by what vessels, or by what mode of conmiunication, con- 
 tinued for many ages, a mystery in anatomy. An Italian 
 anatomist happening- to open a live dog, accidentally dis- 
 
 covered a number of vessels opening into the intestinal 
 canal, and absorbing from it this chyle. These vessels 
 Were aUerwards observed to unite together, to enter the 
 trunk of the lymphatics, and transmit their fluid along 
 With the lynipn into that vessel wliicii discliarges both in- 
 to the riglit veiuricle of the heart. 
 
 Having thus taken a general \iew of all the different 
 organs ol the system, and their several fmictions ; having 
 seen how the bones are united by articulations, how con- 
 nected by ligaments, membranes, and flesh; bow put in 
 motion by means of the muscles, and how they derive 
 their energy from the nerves ; having likewise seen how 
 every organ is nourished by the blood, how this fluid is 
 sent from the heart, and conveyed back to the veins and 
 lymphatics ; having seen how the useless or decayed 
 l)arts are ejected Irom the system, and how the nutri- 
 tious partol the food gets hito the course of the circula- 
 tion ; we have now to intiuire by what means can this 
 complex and delicate machine be preserved for such a 
 number ot years i It is, in some measure, secured from 
 external injuries, by means of its integuments. The 
 first of these is a thin covering, without feeling, called the 
 epidermis, or scarf skin ; the next is a glary mucous 
 substance, known by the name of rete muconum ; beneath 
 this are two thin cuticles, and beneath these again is that 
 integument which is called the cutis vera, or the true 
 skin, ot a fibrous texture, strong, thick, and wonderfully 
 dilatable ; beneath all this is the tela ce/lulosa, which, 
 proceeding inwards, penetrates every organ of the body, 
 and seems to contain the whole in its cells. But though 
 the animal is indebted for much of its general security 
 to these coverings, it owes more to the instincts and ap- 
 petites which the wise Author of nature has inspired. 
 By these, it is taught to pursue what is useful, and to 
 avoid what is dangerous, inconvenient or hurtful. Nor 
 is this all. The beneficent Creator has conferred to a 
 certain extent, on all living bodies, the power of repro- 
 duction, by which they arc frequently enabled to repair 
 the slighter injuries to which the different organs are ex- 
 posed. And if, in the later period of life, this power be- 
 comes extremely languid, it is because it was not intend- 
 ed that the animal structure should be immortal ; its 
 bounds are fixed that it cannot pass ; when the firmest 
 and most beautiful fabric must crumble into dust, and its 
 animating spirit return to the great incomprehensible 
 Being wlio eave it. 
 
 HISTORY. 
 
 Having thus given a very general description of the hu- 
 man structure, we shall now retrace the various steps 
 by which the science of anatomy has advanced from its 
 rude origin to its present perfection. Besides the ob- 
 vious methods of dissection and observation, this science 
 is indebted for much of its progress to the application of 
 mechanical ond chemical philosophy, and to an attentive 
 observation of the causes of those plienomena that 
 characterise living organized systems of matter. In the 
 brief sketch which we propose to give of the history of 
 anatomy, we shall attend to each of these sources of in- 
 formation, — mark the principal discoveries to which they 
 have led, — and point out those particular departments of 
 the science, to the improvement of which they may stiil 
 be suliservient. 
 
 The discoveries which have been made by means of 
 
 dissection and observation, naturally claim our first at- 
 tention. Though dissection, as an art, was unknown in 
 the early periods of society, many opportunities would 
 occur of acquiring some knowledge, however general 
 and imperfect, of the animal structure. Even the sa- 
 vage could not fail to observe, partially, the organization 
 of the animal which he slew in the chase, and devoured 
 in the feast. Human bones would be seen strewed on 
 the field of battle ; whole skeletons would sometimes 
 be found of those who had perished accidentally, or by 
 violence ; and similar casualties would present an op- 
 porlunitv of contemplating, in the mangled carcass, the 
 soft and ir.ternal parts of the human frame. Accordingly 
 the rudest and most ancient languages indicate an ac- 
 quaintance with the principal bones, and the most im- 
 portant and conspicuous viscera in the human body.
 
 18 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 Uiough their iiiliiualc bU'uclure and functions were as 
 vet unknown; while, by allendinij to wounds and tVac- 
 lurcs, to tlie progress of disease, and the methods of 
 cure, men would even acquire some knowledge of the 
 animal economy. 
 
 Their knowhdgc, however, was long very imperfect ; 
 and, as they did not practise anatomy as an art, and sel- 
 dom reasoned on what they had seen, their observations 
 were almost totally useless, and neither reflected light 
 upon medicine, nor regulated the operations of surgery. 
 Some, indeed, arc extravagant enough to nraintain, that 
 the early Egyptians possessed as accurate and exten- 
 sive a knowledge of the human body as the most skilful 
 modern anatomists ; that Athotis, one of their first so- 
 vereigns, published several books on anatomy, in which 
 he laid down rules for dissection ; that one of the medi- 
 cal treatises of Hermes related to the structure of the 
 human body ; and that a considerable knowledge of ana- 
 tomy was implied in the art of embalming. It is almost 
 unnecessary to advert to these absurd pretensions. The 
 claim of Athotis is indeed supported by Eusebius and 
 Africanus ; but their authority was the tradition of 
 Egyptian priests, who, to exalt their country in the es- 
 timation of the credulous Greeks, pretended an intimate 
 acquaintance with every thing connected with literature 
 and science. Hermes was the tutelary spirit of the 
 pillars on which the writings of Egypt were inscribed, 
 and was therefore worshipped, not only as the patron, 
 but the inventor of their arts and sciences ; but, as 
 Hermes in Greece, Mercury at Rome, and Thoth in 
 Egypt, signified a pillar as well as a god, by the wri- 
 tings of Hermes might either be meant the writings 
 inscribed on the pillars, or the writings of the god to 
 whom these pillars were consecrated. In the last of 
 these meanings, the priests were anxious that the phrase 
 should be understood. We are told, indeed, by Jam- 
 blichus and Galen, that every new discovery was first 
 approved by the common voice of the priesthood, and 
 afterwards engraved, without the author's name, upon 
 these pillars, or on stones of the temple. Thus these 
 writings were regarded as the productions of a divinity, 
 and were held in such veneration, that to attempt to 
 alter them in the least degree was considered as an act 
 of unpardonable sacrilege. When a patient died, the 
 surgeon, or physician, who attended him, underwent a 
 strict examination : and if convicted of the slightest 
 deviation from the practice recommended by Hermes, 
 they were condemned to death. From these facts we 
 should be led to entertain no very high opinion of the 
 anatomical knowledge of the Egyptians. 
 
 Many, however, have imagined, that great improve- 
 ments must have arisen from a custom, peculiar to the 
 Egyptians, which confined the attention of medical 
 practitioners to some particular organ or function, with- 
 out permitting them to undertake the cure of the whole 
 system. It cannot be doubted that such a custom would 
 have been extremely beneficial, had it been aided by a 
 general knowledge of the system ; or had it originated 
 in the same views which suggested the modern division 
 of labour. But what improvement could be expected 
 from a practice founded on the gross superstitions of 
 judicial astrology ? Or what shall we think of the science 
 of that people, who divided the human body into thirty- 
 six parts, over each of which a tutelary genius presided, 
 whose displeasure, or neglect, was the cause of all dis- 
 eases; — diseases which were to be removed, not by the 
 
 aid of art or ot medicines, but by symbolical forms, ana 
 magical invocations ? 
 
 It has been said, that the practice of embalming would 
 familiarize the Egyptians to anatomical inquiries. But, 
 in reality, that practice neither required, nor was calcu- 
 lated to impart, any skill in anatomy. It was merely a 
 religious ceremony, performed in the rudest manner ; 
 and could it even have imparted any insight into the 
 animal structure, the detestation and abhorrence in 
 which those who performed the operation were held by 
 their countrymen, would eficctually prevent them from 
 conmiunicating the knowledge which they had thus 
 accjuired. Their mummies exhibit few marks of dex- 
 terity or skill. Our modern collections of birds, quad- 
 rupeds, fishes, and insects, display incomparably more 
 ingenuity ; and yet these may be easily prepared without 
 any anatomical acquirements. 
 
 Anatomy, as a science, was first cultivated by the 
 Greeks, — a people, whose enthusiastic ardour in the 
 pursuit of knowledge prompted them to travel into dis- 
 tant countries, to collect and appropriate the wisdom of 
 their inhabitants ; and whose ingenuity enabled them to 
 carry to a wonderful degree of perfection every art and 
 science with which they were thus made acquainted. 
 Homer, one of their earliest writers, and their most 
 celebrated poet, displays an extent and accuracy of ana- 
 tomical information, which, considering the period in 
 which he lived, is altogether extraordinary. He is even 
 supposed to have wounded his heroes, chiefly in order 
 to shew his acquaintance with the animal structure, and 
 with the situation of its different organs. The stone 
 which Diomede threw at jEneas, not only broke the bone 
 of his thigh, but tore the ligaments of the acetabulum ; 
 Merion was wounded in one of the large veins which 
 return the blood to the heart ; and Ulysses meditated 
 to strike the Cyclops just where the liver adheres to 
 the diaphragm. 
 
 In the school of Pythagoras, the study of anatomy 
 seems to have been prosecuted with considerable ar- 
 dour. Alcmeon, one of his pupils, is said to have dis- 
 sected with his own hands, and to have discovered cer- 
 taui passages which we find between the mouth and the 
 ear ; Empedocles, another of that school, was the first 
 v/ho asserted, that all living bodies sprung originally 
 from eggs ; and a third, Democritus of Abdera, em- 
 ployed much of his time in dissection, and is the first 
 person on record who applied his observations to the 
 explanation of the animal economy. His peculiar man- 
 ners, his fondness for solitude, and the singular nature 
 of his studies, made his countrymen suspect Democri- 
 tus of mental derangement. They sent Hippocrates, 
 therefore, to visit him in his retirement. He found the 
 philosopher seated on a stone, under the ample shade of 
 a plane tree, with a number of books arranged on each 
 side, one on his knee, a penciLin his hand, and several 
 animals which he had been dissecting lying before him. 
 His complexion was pale, and his countenance thoughN 
 ful ; at times he laughed, at times shook his head, mused 
 for a while, and then wrote ; then rose up and walked, 
 inspected the animals, sat down, and wrote again. The 
 subject which thus deeply occupied his attention was 
 madness ; and the object of his dissections was to dis- 
 cover the seat and the nature of the bile, which he sup- 
 posed to be the cause of that distemper. Hippocrates 
 observed him for some time in silent admiration ; ac- 
 knowledged the great importance of his inquiries ; and
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 19 
 
 iftgrcilcd that his own proftisbional ciiiployincnts, and 
 domestic cares, left him no leisure lor imlulijiny; in 
 similar pursuits. 
 
 From this confession, it may be supposed that Hip- 
 pocrates, prior to this lime, had not devoted much of 
 his attention to practical anatomy ; yet his wriluigs 
 evince, that the knowledge wliich he allerwards acquired 
 was by no means inconsiderable. He has given a sum- 
 mary view ot the bones ;* and, though inaccurate witli 
 regard to their number, he has well described many 
 of Llieir forms, articulations, and processes ; and speaks 
 of a fluid secreted in the joints to facilitate their mo- 
 tion ;t and he mentions very frequently the ligaments 
 by which they are connected. He attended likewise to 
 the nature of the flesh, and was not ignorant of its divi- 
 sion into those fasciculi called muscles. He has men- 
 tioned the spinal and the lumbar nmscles,J and has given 
 names to two that arc inserted hi the lower jaw.^ He 
 has also mentioned the beatings of the heart, which he 
 expressly calls a strong muscle. || From this language, 
 had he said no more, we would naturally be led to con- 
 clude, that he knew the functions of these organs ; but, in 
 other parts of his works he assigns a similar office to the 
 ligaments, the tendons, and the nerves, which he includes 
 under one name. 
 
 Although he has mentioned two nerves arising from 
 the brain, and points at many which seem to come from 
 the spinal marrow, with which he was acquainted, a sin- 
 gle expression cannot be found in his works, which in- 
 dicates any acquaintance with their use. This circum- 
 stance is the more extraordinary, as he makes tlic brain 
 the seat of intelligence, and calls it the organ by which 
 we see, hear, feel, and reason. 
 
 If the treatise ascribed to him, weft Kct^^atf, be genu- 
 ine, he seems to have examined the heart, and its ap- 
 pendages, with more attention. He takes notice of 
 parts, the discovery of which has been assigned by many 
 to more recent times ; and has often mentioned the 
 course of its vessels in such a manner, that some have 
 given him the honour of the most illustrious discovery 
 in anatomy, the circulation of the blood. He does, in- 
 deed, speak of a circle of the blood, a ^i^ioxi* and wt- 
 f 10^05 cii/icejei;; and mentions a difficulty in fixing the 
 place where one should begin in describing its vessels, 
 as they form a circle without begiilhing and without 
 end. But so far from having any idea of the circulation 
 of the blood, as known to Harvey, he imagined that the 
 arteries contain air, and doubted whether the veins be- 
 gin in the liver, the heart, or the brain. 
 
 Of the functions of the lungs he was equally igno- 
 rant. He ascribed animal temperature to an e/k-^u/ov arv^, 
 a native fire residing in the left ventricle of tlie heart; 
 and supposed that air was inspired to moderate its heat, 
 and refrigerate the system : and that this air and mois- 
 ture were applied by the two appendages belonging to 
 the heart, whicli, in compliance with his language, are 
 still called auricles, and to which he assigned the office 
 of bellows. 
 
 His ideas of digestion were not more correct. He 
 believed that the stomach is a mere reservoir ; that the 
 food was prepared by putrescence or concoction ; and 
 was altogether ignorant of the channels by which it is 
 afterwards conveyed through the system. He knew, 
 however, the seat of the bile ; the secretion of urine in 
 
 the kidnies ; and two vessels by which he imagined tliat 
 at least a part was conveyed to the bladder. 
 
 His unima-, or vital principle, appears to be the same 
 with the ti^<pu'lt,v Ti/f , and is placed in the left cavity of 
 the heart. In all cases, even in thinking, it act.s from 
 necessity, and conducts the whole business of the sys- 
 tem by means of subordinate agents, which arc called 
 ivtufcui, faculties, or powers. These ^mai^ui are parts 
 ot the aninia itself, and reside in tlic difl'erent organs of 
 the body, performing the functions of seeing, hearing, 
 tasting, touching, and all the functions of the various 
 organs. As these ^v^x/mi/;, however, are parts of the 
 anima, and subject to its control, so the anima itself is 
 only a portion of 4'''="'5, or nature, to which also it is 
 subordinate. This ^va-n is etherial lire, immortal, intel- 
 ligent, and just ; it hears and sees ; is acquainted with 
 what is present and future ; is suflicient for all things; 
 and perceives, untaught, whatever is necessary, and 
 when it should be performed. 
 
 From this sketch of the anatomy and physiology of 
 Hippocrates, our readers may perhaps be disposed to 
 form a low estimate of his industry and talents. From 
 his acknowledgment to Dcmocritus, however, it appears 
 that his opportunities of actual dissection were few ; and 
 it is but justice to say, that wherever he has directed 
 the whole force of his mind, he has far surpassed all 
 his contemporaries ; and tliat, in many parts of his w orks, 
 he displays an enthusiasm for knowledge, an unwearied 
 spirit of investigation, a clearness of discernment, a 
 depth of reflection, an extent and quickness of compre- 
 hension, and a talent for accurate observation, which 
 would have exalted him to eminence in any age ; and 
 which entitled him justly to the fame which he has ac- 
 quired as the Father of Physic, and as one of the most 
 illustrious characters who have done honour to science 
 and mankind. 
 
 Till the time of Hippocrates, physic was considered 
 as a subordinate branch of philosophy. He was the first 
 who exalted it to the rank of a distinct science, and made 
 it the object of a separate profession. We may infer, 
 therefore, that all prior philosophers must have been 
 more or less acquainted with the animal economy. In 
 the writings of many of them we find traces of their 
 anatomical knowledge; but our limits oblige us to con- 
 fine our attention to those who have, either by direct 
 discovery, or by valuable hints, enlarged the boundaries 
 of this science, or given extended views of its utility. 
 
 Among these, Socrates, the celebrated Athenian mo- 
 ralist, holds a distinguished rank. This illustrious sage 
 was the first who perceived the use of anatomy in es- 
 tablishing the principles of natural theology ; and who 
 demonstrated, from the form and situation of the dif- 
 ferent organs, the benevolence and foresight of the 
 great Author of nature. 
 
 Plato, the friend and pupil of Socrates, likewise de- 
 voted a portion of his time to the study of the animal 
 structure. The luxuriance of his imagination, however, 
 and his fondness for theory, rendered him incapable of 
 the cool and persevering investigation which phvsical 
 subjects require. We shall search in vain, in the wri- 
 tings of Plato, for any minute or accurate description of 
 particular organs ; and if, in attempting to explain their 
 functions, he sometimes approach the truth, we must 
 ascribe this rather to fortunate conjecture than to pa- 
 
 
 I) TTi^i nct^^ia^, cap. 2. 
 
 ^ TTs^i o^iui, cap. 2. aphorism 36.
 
 '20 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 ticnt and wxU dircclccl inquiry. Accoi-diiig to him, the 
 brain is a production oi' liie spinal marrow, which he 
 believed to be the first organized part of the embryo, 
 and the bond of union between soul and body : — an idea 
 whicli certainly bears some resemblance to tiie truth. 
 He entertahicd some remarkable ideas concerninj^ the 
 heart, which he supposed the source of the veins, and 
 the fountain from wliich the blood is briskly circulated 
 through all the members. In a passage which Longinus 
 quotes, as an instance of the sublime, he calls the blood 
 the pasture of the Iksh; and adds, that the body is 
 opened into a number of rivulets, like a garden inter- 
 sected with canals; that from tlicse rivulets the veins 
 receive their supply of vital moisture, and convey it, 
 through various sluices, to the remotest parts of the 
 system. This remarkable passage has induced many 
 to believe, that Plato was acquainted with the circula- 
 tion of the blood. He never once dreamt, however, that 
 the rivulets returned to their source, but merely ima- 
 gined, that they conveyed the blood through the body 
 as streams arc difl'uscd through a garden or meadow. 
 So fiir from thinking of any canals to bring back this 
 fluid to the heart, he fancied that the arteries were mere 
 air-vessels: an opinion which led him, with Empcdoclcs, 
 to confound the faiiction of respiration with perspira- 
 tion ; and to suppose, that the pores of the skin, as well 
 as' tlie lungs, were organs of breathing. As his philo- 
 sophy excluded a vacuum, he believed that the air 
 which issues from the lungs, and through the pores of 
 the skin, gave an impulse to the air which surrounds the 
 body ; and that this ambient air, entering the lungs, re- 
 turned by the pores, or, entering the pores, returned by 
 the lungs, in the course ol a semicircle. His reasoning, 
 and mode of expression, betray a total ignorance of the 
 functions of the heart, the lungs, and the skin. He ap- 
 pears to have been the first who attempted to account 
 for the colour of the blood, which he iiBputes to the ac- 
 tion of fire residing in the heart. 
 
 The tlieory by which he attempted to explain the gra- 
 dual decay of the system was ingenious, but extremely 
 fanciful. He imagined that prime matter was first con- 
 verted into bodies of triangular shapes ; that of these 
 bodies the elements were constituted, and assumed re- 
 gular geometrical figures, — fire being a pyramid, the 
 earth a cube, the air an octahedron, and water an icoso- 
 hedron : that, as the body was composed of these ele- 
 ments, their angles would in course of time be blunted, 
 and thus gradually be rendered unable to retain their 
 hold, till the fabric would dissolve, and the soul, like a 
 ship loosed from her anchor, be left to drive at plea- 
 sure. Another phenomenon, no less curious, engaged the 
 attention of this speculative philosopher. It had been 
 observed, that the forms of bodies, though almost infi- 
 nitely various, were yet strictly limited in their number, 
 and that every species was uniformly distinguished by 
 the same permanent characters. To account for this 
 singular fact, Plato supposed, that, besides matter and 
 mind, there were certain forms which he calls ihut ; a 
 kind of moulds in which matter is cast, and which regu- 
 larly produce the same n\imber and variety of species in 
 the animal, mineral, and vegetable kingdoms. 
 
 The difference of reason, instinct, and passion, indu- 
 ced Plato to believe, that, instead of one vital principle, 
 there must be three, one for each of the great cavities 
 of the human body; the head being the seat of the ra- 
 tional principle; t!ie heart of the courageous; and the 
 sensual grovelling principle residing in the lower belly, 
 
 to wh'cli the liver is a kind of mirror, reliectiiig ceitain 
 spe(,tres and phantoms. In these principles may be 
 easily discerned a modification of the S^vtaiMn of Hippo- 
 crates; and his SviuiAdi seem to have sprung from the 
 old superstition, which assigned to a tutelary genius the 
 charge of each of the bodily organs. Tlie owctfteif were 
 converted by the Latins into Jacutlaten and vires ; and 
 hence ihc J'ucu/tics of our metaphysicians; iha vie g^cnc- 
 trix, vis concoctrix, and via nifdicuirix, and other vires 
 of our physiologists, known ui English by the name of 
 J'uitclions. 
 
 The next philosopher who claims our attention is 
 Aiistotle, the pupil of Plato; but in every respect an 
 exact counterpart to his master. He possessed not that 
 glowing eloquence, nor that sublimity of conception, 
 which distinguished the illustrious loimdcr of the Aca- 
 demy ; but he surpassed him far in perspicuity, pre- 
 cision, and arrangement; in that cool and determined 
 industry, which alone could guide him steadily in the 
 patli of discovery; in a vast comprehension of mind, 
 which enabled him to grasp the whole science of his 
 time ; and in an acutcness of discrimination, which led 
 him to generalize his ideas, and to refer every object of 
 knowledge to its proper class. With such qualifications, 
 it is not to be wondered that he should gain an absolute 
 control over the literary world. He wrote on almost 
 everv branch of science; and his writings displayed 
 such skill and force of reasoning, that they acquired the 
 authority of an oracle. He has fallen, indeed, into many 
 errors, but these must in general be ascribed to the dis- 
 advantages of his situation ; nor is it to be doubted, that, 
 had he lived in modem times, he would have risen to 
 unrivalled eminence, and perhaps have acquired as un- 
 limited authority as he exercised over his own and many 
 succeeding ages. 
 
 At the request of his pupil, Alexander the Great, he 
 undertook to write the natural history of animals. For 
 this purpose Alexander supplied him with 800 talents, 
 and emploved men in every part of his extensive em- 
 pire, to collect animals of all descriptions for his use. 
 The philosopher, thus assisted, was enabled to arrange 
 them into classes; to mark their various forms, dispo- 
 sitions, and habits, and the peculiar motions, and mode 
 of generating, by which each class is distinguished. 
 His observations afe exceedingly valuable ; and although 
 his distinctions be not always adopted, many of them, at 
 least, are retained ; both the paths and objects of inquiry 
 are clearly marked out; and his history of animals has 
 not onlv tended to inspire an enthusiasm for such inves- 
 tigations, but to abridge their toil, and has furnished 
 many important hints to succeeding naturalists. 
 
 He likewise inquired into the internal structure of 
 animals ; wrote a treatise on anatomy, and gave an ana- 
 tomical nomenclature, both of which have unfortunately 
 been lost. He examined the different organs with con- 
 siderable minuteness; observed their form, situation, 
 and structure ; and has given a number of names and 
 distinctions, which are still found of considerable use. 
 It was owing to the state of science in his time, that, 
 notwithstanding his acquaintance with the animal struc- 
 ture, his physiology is as imperfect as that of Hippo- 
 crates. He supposed the arteries to be organs of mo- 
 tion ; and the flesh which moves an organ of sensation. 
 A ligament he terms a nerve; and if he was really ac- 
 quainted with the organs which we distinguish by that 
 name, he had not the most distant idea of their func- 
 tions. The brain he fancied a mere mass of water and
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 721 
 
 earth, designed to exhale vapours, and to assist the 
 lungs and Uic arteries (which he supposed to be air- 
 vessels) hi regulating the degrees of animal tempera- 
 ture. He believed that the heart is not only the foun- 
 tain of the blood, and the origin ol' the veins, but the 
 origin likewise ol' the lit^amcnts and tendons; the oigan 
 of motion, sensation, and nutrition; the seat of tlie soul, 
 of the passions, and of the vital flame. To account lor 
 respiration, he supposed that the heat expanded the air 
 contained in the lungs, and that the external air rushed 
 to prevent a vacuum. In his notion of digestion he ex- 
 actly coiiicidccl with Hippocrates; imagining that the 
 stomach is a passive organ, in which the aliments were 
 boiled, stewed, or concocted ; but that, in this operation, 
 it is assisted by the heat of the liver, the spleen, and the 
 viscera m the neighbourhood ; that the liver, the spleen, 
 and the kidneys, however, are also intended to serve as 
 cushions to the arteries and the veins. 
 
 Although he has written at some length on generation, 
 he expresses much uncertainty about the use and im- 
 portance of the testes. At one time he asserts, that 
 they prepare the seminal fluid by a vis insila ; at ano- 
 ther, he seems to think that they are organs rather of 
 convenience than of essential utility; that nature de- 
 signed them chiefly as a counterpoise, to prevent the 
 retraction of the spermatic chord ; that some animals 
 have been able to procreate after castration, when the 
 spermatic chord was not retracted; and that serpents 
 and fishes, which, in his opinion, have no testes, are 
 abundantly prolific. His vital principle, like that of 
 Hippocrates, was fire, of the same nature with the pure 
 element of the stars. This fire resided, prior to con- 
 ception, in the seminal fluid of the male ; and, though he 
 speaks with great hesitation on the subject, he seems to 
 think, that, with the assistance of what he calls the for- 
 mal cause, not unlike the i^e"? of Plato, it constructed 
 the body, and thus formed for itself a habitation. Yet, 
 notwithstanding his errors, Aristotle did much both for 
 anatomy and natural history; and science is particularly 
 indebted to him, not only for the important facts which 
 he brought to light, but for the ardour which he inspired 
 for similar inquiries. 
 
 The path which Aristotle had thus marked out, was 
 pursued with equal enthusiasm by Diodes of Carystus, 
 who wrote a treatise on the method of dissecting bo- 
 dies ; and by Praxagoras of Cos, who restricted the 
 meaning of vein and artery to the organs known at pre- 
 sent by these names. This restriction was of consider- 
 able importance, as these words had, before that time, 
 been very vaguely applied. Hippocrates had given the 
 name of vein to the optic nerve, and t^e ureters and the 
 arteries were included with the ligaments and tendons 
 under the general appellation of nerves, — a term which, 
 in Hippocrates, Plato, and Aristotle, had little connec- 
 tion with its present meaning. 
 
 Among the promoters of the science of anatomy, it 
 would be unfair to omit Alexander the Great, at whose 
 particular request Aristotle undertook the History of 
 Animals, and at whose expense he was furnished with 
 the means of prosecuting his inquiries. The views of 
 Alexander were eagerly adopted by the Ptolemies, his 
 successors in Egypt ; through whose royal patronage 
 anatomists first enjoyed the opportunity of examining 
 the structure of the human body. Without such protec- 
 tion, no private individual would have attempted the 
 dissection of a human subject: against which, the pre- 
 
 VoL. I. Part H. 
 
 judices of the Greeks were not less violent than those 
 of the Jews and Egyptians. 
 
 The first and principal anatomist employed by the 
 Ptolemies was Hciopiiilus of Chalcedon, the disciple of 
 Praxagoras. His attention was chiefly Uirccted to the 
 nervous system; and, in the course of his researches, 
 he made a discoveiy which conslilutcil a new ara in 
 the history of anatomy. Before his time, the brain and 
 its functions were very imperfectly understood. Hippo- 
 crates had mentioned its two membranes; Aristotle its 
 division into halves, a cavity in its middle, and a smaller 
 brain in the back of the head. Herophilus, examining 
 it with more attention, discovered no less than four ca- 
 vities, traced several of its nerves, and describes a va- 
 riety of other parts, some of which are distinguished by 
 his name. He was the first, in short, who ascertained 
 the functions of the brain, the spinal marrow, and the 
 nerves. So minute was the attention wliicli he paid to 
 the blood-vessels, that he characterised the veins and 
 the arteries by the thickness of their coats ; and was the 
 first Greek physician who wrote an accurate treatise on 
 the pulse; though, to form any prognosis from its beat- 
 ings, he tells us, that it is necessary to be first acquaint- 
 ed with geometry and music. Herophilus is considered 
 as the founder of the medical school at Alexandria, and 
 the first anatomist who taught osteology from the hu- 
 man skeleton. 
 
 Contemporary with Herophilus was Erasistratus, the 
 grandson of Aristotle, and the pupil of Chrysippus. 
 Erasistratus was one of the principal physicians at the 
 court of Antiochus in Syria ; and he likewise enjoyed 
 frequent permission to examine the bodies of criminals. 
 He was well acquainted with the functions of the brain; 
 tells us, that its dilTerent cavities communicate ; and 
 mentions the distribiuion of the nerves, which he consi- 
 ders as the primary organs of sense and motion. It is 
 allowed by Galen, that the valves of the heart, and those 
 which arc placed at the commencement of the great ar- 
 teries, vv'ere first discovered by Erasistratus. If Galen, 
 however, be correct, the treatise T£f / Koplnti, found in 
 the works of Hippocrates, in which these organs are 
 mentioned, cannot be genuine. Erasistratus was the 
 first who asserted, that digestion is performed by the 
 action of the stomach ; and the next after Herophilus 
 who traced the vessels which convey the chyle from the 
 intestines : he maintained, that the blood is distributed 
 through the liver for the secretion of the bile ; and con- 
 futed an opinion which Plato had adopted from mistaking 
 a passage in Hippocrates, — that our drink passes through 
 the windpipe into the lungs. In a fragment of his 
 works preserved by Galen, from whom we derive nearly 
 all the information which we possess concerning him and 
 Herophilus, he speaks of a happy disposition of the 
 muscles for the movement ^of the limbs. From this it 
 maybe inferred, that the function of the muscles was 
 then known; and, as neither he nor Herophilus have 
 claimed the discovery, it was probably known before 
 their time. 
 
 The obscurity, and want of precision, with which 
 Hippocrates speaks on this subject, proves how little 
 he was acquainted with it. If we may judge, however, 
 from his attempt to explain the phenomena which the 
 muscles produce, he must have supposed the cause of 
 these phenomena worthy of serious investigation ; and 
 it appears not a little surprising, that he, but particularly 
 Aristotle, who attached such importance to the explajia- 
 4Y
 
 --2-2 
 
 ANATOIMY. 
 
 lion oi' animal mouon, as to write two books on the sub- 
 ject, should yet have been ignorant of the immediate or- 
 gans which nature employs in effecting it. Hippocrates 
 had ascrilicd animal action to the ligaments and ten- 
 dons, which, as we have already seen, he termed ntv^a. 
 Aristotle likewise ascribes it to the vti/ja; but differed 
 from Hippocrates in selecting those particular v£fja, 
 which we call arteries, in order to explain its pheno- 
 mena. At that time arteries, as their name, indeed, 
 implies, were supposed to contain nothing but air. 
 The great artery of the system was known to rise from 
 Ihc left ventricle of the heart; in which Hippocrates, in 
 conformity with the Pythagorean philosophy respecting 
 heat, had placed the anima, or native fire. Under the 
 influence of such high autliority, it was natural for Aris- 
 totle to trace all motions to this principle ; and, as it 
 had no visible communication with the other parts of 
 the system but by the ramifications of the great artery, 
 to which he restricted the meaning of tlie word ao^To., 
 indefinitely applied by Hippocrates to air vessels in ge- 
 neral, he was necessarily led to conclude, that this uii^r» 
 must be the instrument which the soul employs in send- 
 ing its spirits to the different joints, and performing its 
 motions by some kinds of repulsion and attraction. This 
 function of the arteries, of course, superseded the use 
 of the brain, the spinal marrow, and the nerves ; and 
 sufficiently accounts for those singular opinions which 
 Aristotle entertained concerning the cerebrum and the 
 heart. His theory, fortunately for anatomy, was soon 
 relinquished for one more rational and conformable to 
 truth. 
 
 Lycus of Macedon, a very early writer, turned his at- 
 tention to this subject, and wrote a voluminous treatise 
 on myology, in which he assigns four muscles to the 
 eye. Although this author was little known during his 
 lifetime, his works, if we may believe Galen, had an ex- 
 tensive circulation alter his death. 
 . For nearly three centuries after the time of Lycus, no 
 great improvements were made in anatomy or physiology. 
 Marinus, who flourished under the reign of Nero, in or- 
 der to supply the deficiencies of Lycus, resumed the 
 subject of myology, carried it to a higher degree of per- 
 fection, and was the first anatomist who suggested the 
 real use of those bodies which are known by the name 
 of glands. 
 
 About the beginning of the 2d century, Rufus Ephe- 
 sius, from observation, or experiment, was led to con- 
 clude, that, besides air, the arteries, in their natural state, 
 contain also a quantity of blood. Erasistratus, too, had 
 found blood in these vessels ; but, rather than renounce 
 the established hypothesis, he endeavoured to account 
 for the appearance, by supposing, without being aware 
 of the truth of the supposition, that the veins and arte- 
 ries communicate at their extremities; and that, when 
 the arteries are emptied of their air, the blood rushes 
 in from the veins to prevent a vacuum; but that this 
 influx of blood was always followed by morbid effects 
 upon the system. In a work of Rufus Ephesius, called 
 Onamasia, he explains the different terms employed by 
 preceding anatomists ; in some cases he mentions the 
 particular circumstance that gave rise to the name; and 
 he informs us, that, although Herophilus and Erasistra- 
 tus had ascertained the function of the nerves, they still 
 allowed the word vEuja, by which they were expressed, 
 to retain its former various meanings, contenting them- 
 selves with characterizuig the species which they meant 
 by particular epithets. The onomasia of Rufus may be 
 
 considered as the best view of the state of anatomy be- 
 fore the time of Galen. 
 
 The celebrated Galen was born at Pergamus, in Les- 
 ser Asia, in the time of the emperor Adrian, and flourish- 
 ed under Trajan, Marcus Antoninus, and some of their 
 successors. His genius was not more uncommon than 
 his industry. Early initiated in general literature, and 
 having studied with singular diligence in all the philo- 
 sophical schools of his time, he, at length, conceived a 
 passion for physic. To prosecute the study of that sci- 
 ence with every advantage, he went to Alexandria, then 
 the most celebrated medical seminary in the world. 
 There he had frequent opportunities of examining the 
 human skeleton; but, as the practice of dissecting the 
 human body was now laid aside, he employed himself 
 in dissecting animals which had the nearest resem- 
 blance to man, and in comparing their structure with 
 that of birds, quadrupeds, and fishes. To understand 
 the various functions the more perfectly, he used some- 
 times to open animals alive. AVith all the advantages 
 of opulence and rank, of a liberal education, extensive 
 reading, and much travelling, he was enabled to collect 
 all the information of his predecessors; and from great 
 industry, and much observation, has given a fuller de- 
 scription of the bones, the ligaments, the muscles, the 
 nerves, the blood-vessels, and the viscera, than had 
 ever been given before. So partial is Portal to his ana- 
 tomy, that he hesitates not to prefer it to many recent 
 elementary books ; and bids his readers only draw the 
 comparison, to be convinced of the justness of a criti- 
 cism so disgraceful to these crude, illiterate compilers, 
 and affording so humbling a specimen of the progress of 
 the human mind. 
 
 Passing over his more trivial discoveries, let us take 
 a survey of those which are of some importance. He 
 is known to have the honour of first proving that the 
 arteries, in their natural state, contain blood ; of having 
 first mentioned a communication between the arteries 
 and the veins in the substance of the lungs ; and a pas- 
 sage of the blood, by that communication, from the right 
 to the left ventricle of the heart. He was the first ana- 
 tomist who attended to the peculiar construction of the 
 fetal heart, and who clearly demonstrated the larynx, 
 and showed it to be the organ of voice. His Physiolo- 
 gy, more generally known by the title De icsu fiartium, 
 does the highest honoiu' to his heart and understanding. 
 It was intended as a hymn to the Creator; and, from the 
 numerous displays there made of divine power, wisdom, 
 and beneficence, he exults in having presented to the 
 Deity an offermg more valuable than hecatombs of oxen. 
 
 He adopted Pllfo's notion of the anima, or vital prin- 
 ciple, which regulates the whole economy of the sys- 
 tem. Instead of Plato's three souls, however, he sup- 
 poses three spirits, which are the instruments of three 
 faculties, the natural, animal, and vital. The liver is 
 the seat of the natural faculty, which presides over 
 growth, nutrition, and generation; the vital faculty is 
 placed in the heart, and distributes life and heat through 
 the channels of the arteries ; the animal faculty, which 
 resides ui the brain, regulates the whole, and, through 
 the medium of the nerves, is made to convey sensation 
 and motion. Besides these, he supposes other inferior 
 faculties, whose office is limited to particular organs ; 
 and these faculties are exactly the same with the vitx 
 projii-ice, which, though never distinguished tUl very 
 lately by that name, were, in other respects, as well 
 known to the ancients as the four temperaments.
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 ■23 
 
 Of these temperaments, which, as well as the natu- 
 ral, animal, and vital functions, still make sonic ligiuc 
 in modern pathology, it will now be proper to give some 
 explanation. To account for the original formation of 
 the world out of chaos, the ancient mythologisls made 
 use of four elements, fire, air, water, and earth ; and four 
 qualities, hot, cold, dry, and moist. These great agents 
 in nature were found necessary for the explanation of 
 every phenomenon. It was to be expected, therefore, 
 that they should, likewise, be called in to explain the 
 functions of the human body. The four qualities were 
 accordingly given to four humours, — a kind of secondary 
 elements that were supposed to exist in the body. 
 These, according to Plippocrates, were bile, blood, 
 phlegm, and water; or, as he seems occasionally in- 
 clined to think, blood, phlegm, a yellow bile, and a black. 
 To each of these were given two of the elementary 
 qualities; so that the blood was hot and moist, the 
 phlegm cold and moisl, the yellow bile hot and dry, the 
 black bile cold and dry. J3esidcs these, however, Hip- 
 pocrates supposed a great many others, particularly the 
 sweet, the suit, the bitter, and the austere. He made, 
 likewise, his humours and qualities to vary greatly hi 
 their proportions, and his qualities in their degrees of 
 intensity, and supposed these variations to proceed from 
 an infinite number of circumstances : fron\ difference in 
 age or sex ; from the inlluence of the sun, moon, or 
 planets, in every possible position and aspect; from the 
 changes of season, and every slight alteration of wea- 
 ther. The changes thus arising from the various com- 
 binations, proportions, and degrees, of four humours, 
 and eight qualities, to make no more of them, can easily 
 be shown to amount to, at least, 479,001,600; yet, to 
 practise with sure success, it was necessary to know 
 and distinguish each of these changes. As that, how- 
 ever, was impossible, Hippocrates directed his attention 
 chiefly to four changes produced by the varying propor- 
 tions of the humours. These changes were called tem- 
 peraments ; and, according to the humour which pre- 
 dominated at the time, they were sanguineous, phlegma- 
 tic, bilious, or melancholic. They were limited to four, 
 in order to correspond with the four elements, the four 
 great ages of the world, the four periods in man's life, 
 the four seasons of the year, and, above all, with the 
 meaning of nl^etxjvi, a mystical word in the language of 
 Pythagoras, signifying a quaternion. It is not surpri- 
 sing that Hippocrates should have adopted these fan- 
 cies, when we consider the school in which he w'as edu- 
 cated; nor that Galen should, in this respect, have fol- 
 lowed a master, for whom he entertained the highest 
 veneration. But what apology shall be made for modern 
 pathologists, who, after entirely rejecting the sense of 
 these ancient writers, would sooner renounce their re- 
 ligious creed, than part with the terms in which these 
 antiquated notions are expressed. o 
 
 From this fantastic pathology let us turn our attention 
 to objects more interesting. The vast collection of his- 
 H torical, medical, and anatomical knowledge, coatained in 
 the works of Galen, arranged with all the nicety of a 
 critic, and adorned by the abilities of the first and most 
 accomplished scholar of his time, impressed the minds 
 of his followers with a kind of rcverenti.il awe, which 
 rather checked than excited emulation. For many ages, 
 no person appeared bold enough to dissent from his opi- 
 nions, or aspire to equal, far less to excel him. Phy- 
 sicians and anatomists sought only to distinguish them- 
 selves by their care and industry in studying, abridging, 
 
 copying, or commenting on, his works. The Arabians, 
 who got them into their possession at the taking of Alex- 
 andria, followed him with the same implicit deference ; 
 while the translation of the seat of the empire from 
 Rome to Byzantium, and the future inroads of barbarians, 
 almost extinguished his name in the west. More than 
 a thousand years elapsed from the time of Galen, before 
 any new discoveries were made in anatomy, sufiicicnlly 
 important to deserve notice. 
 
 At length the genius of Circece began to burst forth 
 from the cloud in which it had been so long shrouded, 
 and toillunune the west of Kurope with its benign influ- 
 ence. Many of the crusaders, in their expeditions 
 against the infidels, had become actjuaintcd with Ara- 
 bian literature, which also was derived from Greece ; 
 and, on returning to Europe, not only pursued the study 
 of it with ardour, but inspired their countrymen with a 
 similar enthusiasm. Anatomy was first revived by Mun- 
 dinus, a Milanese, who had become ac(|uainted with the 
 writings of Galen, through the impure medium of an 
 Arabian translation. Wishing to illustrate the descrip- 
 tions of Galen by actual dissection, he made several 
 observations of his own; and, about the year 1315, pub- 
 lished the result of his enquiries, under the form of a 
 regular system. Though the attempt was rude, and 
 many of the terms which he employed were Arabic, its 
 novelty attracted general notice; and, as there was no- 
 thing of the same kind with which it could be brought 
 into comparison, it was held in such estimation, that, 
 for some time, the statutes of Padua allowed no other 
 system to be taught. It thus contributed to revive a 
 spirit for anatomical inquiries; and, for some time after, 
 the surest road to fame, was to publish the system of 
 Mundinus with commentaries. 
 
 Still, however, the reviving literature of Greece was 
 insufficient to dispel the gloom of ignorance and preju- 
 dice. It acquired new vigour about the middle of the 
 15th century, when Constantinople fell into the hands of 
 the Turks. That catastrophe forced Theodore, Gaza, 
 Argyrophilus, and other learned men, to seek an asylum 
 in Italy, where Emanuel Chrysoloras had already been 
 employed in disseminating knowledge. Theodore, and 
 his companions in misfortune, carried along with them 
 many valuable Greek manuscripts, and rescued from 
 oblivion many others that had lain buried in the libraries 
 of the West. About the close of the same century, tliis 
 reviving spirit received a strong impulse from the disco- 
 very of the art of printing. The opening of the six- 
 teenth century was particularly auspicious to anatomy. 
 Not only in Italy, but in Germany and France, many emi- 
 nent men arose, whose ardent enthusiasm, and unwea- 
 lied perseverance, in the study of that science, were 
 rewarded by many valuable improvements and discove- 
 ries. Among these, the first place is due to James 
 Berengarius of Carpi, professor of Bononia, who had 
 spent much time in dissecting, and publishing a system 
 of such reputation, that he was called the restorer of 
 anatomy. At the same time, Charles Stephans, brother 
 to the printer Henry Stephans, and the iiitimate friend 
 of our countryman Buchanan, was improving the ana- 
 tomy of ligaments and bones ; Fernclius that of the 
 blood-vessels ; and Gonthier Andernach that of the 
 muscles. 
 
 The veneration in which Galen was held was still a 
 great obstacle in the way of improvement; for he con- 
 tinued the sole dictator in the schools of anatomy and 
 physic, till Andrew Vesalius boldly ventured to questJOR 
 4 Y 2
 
 724 
 
 ANA^TOMY. 
 
 Ills authority. This cxlraordinaiy man was a native of 
 Brussels. Diiriiig, ardent, and cntcrprizing, and inde- 
 I'aligablc in the pursuit of whatever lie undertook, he 
 shewed, while yet a boy, a decided partiality lor the 
 study of anatomy. Possessed of an easy fortune, he 
 neglected none of the advantages which it afforded for 
 cultivating his mind, and qualifying himself for the fur- 
 ther prosecution of those studies, to which nature had 
 inclined him, with resistless and unexampled bias. In 
 a short time he made himself master of the Hebrew 
 language, and acquired so complete a knowledge of the 
 Greek and Arabic, that, l)ei'ore he had reached his 20th 
 year, he had read the works of Avicenna and Galen in 
 the original. He even spoke the Greek language with 
 fluency, and wrote Latin with more ease and elegance 
 than any of his contemporaries. Such was his zeal for 
 dissection, that he used to rob the gibbets, and dissect 
 the bodies in his bedchamber. Thus versant with prac- 
 tical anatomy, he soon perceived that many of Galen's 
 descriptions had been taken from quadrupeds; and, not 
 being of a disposition to conceal his sentiments, he be- 
 gan openly to dispute the authority, and to correct the 
 mistakes of the Grecian master, and at last resolved to 
 publish an anatomical system of his own. Accordingly, 
 in the twenty-fifth year of his age, having already given 
 public lectures in several universities, he began this 
 great work, and, after overcoming many difficulties, 
 which scarcely any other person could have surmount- 
 ed, he completed it in the space of three years. No 
 treatise on anatomy had ever appeared which could be 
 at all compared with the work of Vesalius, in arrange- 
 ment, copiousness, and accuracy ; but the severe cen- 
 sures on Galen which it contained provoked the numer- 
 ous admirers of that great master, who, sifting the trea- 
 tise of Vesalius with all the keenness of criticism, de- 
 tected some mistakes similar to those which he con- 
 demned. This spirit of controversy led to more accurate 
 inquiry; the system of Vesalius remained unrivalled, 
 and was at length successful in breaking that enchant- 
 ment in which Galen had held anatomists for so many 
 centuries. 
 
 The passage of the blood from the right to the left 
 ventricle of the heart was at this time unknown. Vesa- 
 lius demonstrated, that it could not possibly pass through 
 the septum by which these ventricles are divided. Ana- 
 tomists were under the necessity, therefore, of looking 
 out for some other course. Columbus, the pupil of 
 Vesalius, traced it through the lungs ; when it was 
 found, that the same passage had been known to Galen, 
 to Nemcsius bishop of Emessa, to Servetus a Spaniard, 
 and to Vasseus. Andrew Cesalpinus, an Italian physi- 
 cian, went still farther; he mentions a communication 
 between the veins and arteries at their extremities, and 
 speaks of the valves of the arteries and auricles as capa- 
 ble of preventing the reflux of the blood. From this 
 language he may seem to have been acquainted with the 
 circulation discovered by Harvey ; but a notion which 
 he had, that the blood flowed backwards and forwards, 
 like the tide of Euripus ; that the valves did not act 
 constantly in the same way ; and that the blood flowed 
 in the vena ponas, in a manner diff'crent from that in 
 which it flowed in any other vessels, — is a proof that 
 the whole of his ideas on the subject are very inaccu- 
 rate. Indeed, the man, who, with the childish ingenuity 
 of a lover, could make every fact to suit with his theo- 
 ries, however absurd, was so far from being fitted for 
 making the discovery on rational principles, that he made 
 
 the very Tacts, which, without his explanation, might 
 have been useful, additional obstacles in the way of 
 others ; and, by holding out false and deceitful lights, 
 calculated only to mislead and bewilder, he rendered the 
 acconiplisliment of the discovery more arduous and dif- 
 ficult than it was before. 
 
 Nearly about the same time, Fabricius ab Aquapen- 
 dente, a professor at Padua, struck with some appear- 
 ances which the arm presented after being bound with 
 the ligature in venesection, laid open the whole course 
 of a vein, and, in 1574, observed certain membranes 
 within it, which he called ostiola, or tittle doors. Ena- 
 bled, as he thought, to account, by these membranes, for 
 the appearances which ho observed in the arm, he next 
 proceeded to lay open the other veins ef the body, when 
 he perceived similar membranes in all the veins of the 
 extremities, but none in the veins which run through 
 the trunk. At last, after much examination and mature 
 reflection, he published his discovery, describing the 
 form, situation, and structure of these membranes, and 
 the distance at which they are generally placed from 
 each other in the course of the veins. In this publica- 
 tion, he expresses his wonder, that these membranes 
 should have escaped the observation of all preceding 
 anatomists ; yet it was found that, nearly a century be- 
 fore, they had been traced through all the veins of the 
 extremities by Jacobus Sylvius, mentioned by Charles 
 Stephans as afiofihyses vcnarum, to prevent the reflux of 
 the venous blood ; and in the same year in which Fa- 
 bricius made the discovery, had been seen by Cannanus, 
 who afterwards pointed them out to Vesalius. 
 
 Fabricius, probably ignorant of these circumstances, 
 was continuing to demonstrate these membranes to his 
 students with all the enthusiasm of a discoverer, when 
 a young Englishman, named Harvey, came to prosecute 
 his medical studies at Padua. The singular novelty of 
 these membranes strongly attracted his attention, and 
 excited in his mind the highestrespectforthe discoverer. 
 Dissatisfied, however, with the uses which Fabricius 
 had assigned to them, he could not help suspecting that 
 they performed a different, and probably a more impor- 
 tant, office in the system. On his rcttirn to England, 
 therefore, he became anxious to resume the subject. 
 He procured a number of animals, and, opening them 
 alive, completely ascertained the function of the venous 
 membranes, to which he gave the name of valves; and 
 thence was led, as he informed Mr Boyle, to the noblest 
 discovery which has ever been made in anatomy, the 
 circulation of the blood. It was made public in the year 
 1528; and the changes which it necessarily introduced 
 into all our reasonings on the animal economy are uni- 
 versally known. 
 
 Never was prejudice more strongly exemplified than 
 in the opposition which was made to this illustiious dis- 
 covery. Physicians and anatomists were equally alarmed 
 by a circumstance which seemed to sweep from the very 
 foundation many of the systems which they had reared. 
 So inveterate, indeed, was the prejudice against the newH 
 doctrine, that it considerably diminished the practice of 
 its immortal discoverer. Not one physician above forty 
 years of age became a convert to it ; and so rancorous 
 was the envy of its opponents, that they first attempted 
 to prove it erroneous; when they found that impossible, 
 they next searched the writings of Hippocrates for 
 something which might seem to resemble it ; but in this 
 attempt they were equally unsuccessful : from Hippo- 
 crates they went to Plato; from Plato to Nemesius, bi-
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 725 
 
 shop of Emessa; from Ncmcsius to one Rueff, a Swiss; 
 and from Ruett' lo Andrew Ccsalpinus ; — but all in vain. 
 Chagrined with disappointmeni, they next began to de- 
 tract from its mcrii ; alleging, that the foundation of it 
 was laid by Fabricius ab Aquapendente, and that Har- 
 vey had little more to do thun to dress it up into a sys- 
 t*;m. They have brought him into comparison with 
 Columbus a. id Copernicus, to show that his rank as a 
 discoverer is comp.irativtiy low. None of his writings, 
 they have said, shew him lo have been a man of uncom- 
 mon abilities; they have even charged liim with obsti- 
 nacy and envy; since, tliough he lived almost tliirly 
 years after the lacteals were made known by Aselliiis, 
 he seemed to persist, to the last, in doubting their exist- 
 ence. Of these invidious and unmanly charges, his 
 own works, Ve motu cordis, et Generations animalium, 
 aflord the most coinplele confutation ; works which 
 will perpetuate his memory in the annals of fame ; 
 vindicate his claim to the distinguished character of 
 genius ; and elevate him lo a height far beyond the reach 
 of the envenomed, but impotent, darts of envy and de- 
 traction. 
 
 Harvey's discovery was soon followed by another, in 
 many respects even more extraorOinary : the discovery 
 of a great and important sysiem of vessels, which had 
 seldom been even partially seen, and which the greater 
 number of anatomists did not suppose even to exist. 
 The food had been traced from the mouth to the sto- 
 mach, and from the stomach through the different wind- 
 ings of the intestines; but no person had ever observed 
 a single passage by which the nutritious part of the ali- 
 ment might be conveyed into the system. There had 
 been seen, indeed, a number of veins on the tube, par- 
 ticularly on the part which is called intestine; but as 
 none else were observed except the concomitant branches 
 of arteries, it was naturally concluded, that the veins 
 were the vessels which convey the chyle ; and as those 
 arising from the stomach and intestines end in the liver, 
 anatomists assigned to that viscus the office of changing 
 the chyle into blood, and called it the organ of sanguifi- 
 cation. This explanation was considered as completely 
 satisfactory, till, in the year 1622, Asellius, a doctor of 
 Pavia, happening to open a live dog, observed vessels of 
 a different nature, all commencing from the intestines, 
 and containing a fluid of a white colour. The white 
 appearance led him at first to suppose that they were 
 nerves ; but, upon farther and stricter inquiry, he con- 
 cluded, that they were the vessels destined by nature to 
 convey the chyle ; traced them as far as a large gland, or 
 cluster of glands, which he calls pancreas ; and, from 
 the white colour of their fluid, gave to the vessels them- 
 selves the name of lacteals. He perceived likewise a 
 few on the liver ; and, as he entertained the general 
 notion of its function, he naturally supposed that they 
 all went to that gland, and calls them its arms, by which, 
 as by leeches, it sucks up the chyle. This comparison 
 has given rise to a hypothesis, which, without any just 
 title, lays claim to originality, and which, like too many 
 of our modem theories, is altogether nugatory. Asel- 
 lius modestly disclaims all merit from his discovery ; 
 ascribes it wholly to chance ; confesses that Erasistratus 
 had observed similar vessels in a kid, but had mistaken 
 them for arteries, and supposed that at times they con- 
 tained air. 
 
 It will be at once perceived, that the discovery of 
 Asellius was imperfect : He only supposed that these 
 vessels went to the liver ; to trace them to the fountain 
 
 of the blood was an honour reserved for Pecquet, a 
 I'lcnch an.Jiomist, who,about thirty years after, on open- 
 ing the heart of another live dog, saw a whitish fluid 
 mingUng with the blood, and flowuig in with a constant 
 stream. Examinhig the source of this iluid, he was led 
 to discover the large trunk in which all the vessels seen 
 by Asellius tcrmuiatc. With a modesiy equal to that of 
 Asellius, he cautions his readers to ascribe this discove- 
 ry to no superior acuteness or diligence on his part, 
 nor to accuse preceding anatomists oi neglect or inac- 
 curacy ; candidly acknowledging that his merit was com- 
 paratively small, and that his discovery was to be at- 
 tributed entirely to chance, or the kindness of Provi- 
 dence. It cannot be supposed, that a man so modest 
 and unassuming, would, had he known it, have studiously 
 concealed the discovery of Eustachius, who had long bc- 
 ibre described the same vessels in a horse, though he 
 knew neither its origin nor its use : the discovery of 
 which constitutes the high merit of Pecquet. 
 
 With these discoveries of Asellius and Pecquet, anato- 
 mists would probably have remained satisfied, and 
 would never have thought of looking for any more ves- 
 sels to explain the functions of the animal system, had 
 not Olans Rudbeck, a Swede, and afterwards Thomas 
 Barthoiine, a Dane, on opening the bodies of live dogs, 
 accidentally discovered a number of similar vessels, 
 arising from various parts of the body, and ending, along 
 with the lacteals of Asellius, in the trunk discovered 
 by Pecquet. These vessels were afterwards found in 
 sheep, in goats, and in man : Barthoiine saw them on 
 the liver of a fish, and Dr Monro and Mr Hcwson have 
 since demonstrated them in a variety of fishes and birds. 
 In short, they form a part of tlie animal system, and 
 have been found in every part of the human body by va- 
 rious anatomists, and in the brain by the celebrated Mas- 
 cagiii. From an opinion that they were branches of the 
 same system with the lacteals of Asellius, they were 
 named by Barthoiine vasa lactea ; and, from the nature 
 oC the fluid which they contain, vasa serosa, nasa lym- 
 llia-.xca, and ductus aqiioai. 
 
 The difficulty of making these discoveries, the great 
 inipo! tance of which is universally acknowledged, can 
 only be conceived by those who are somewhat ac- 
 quainted with the subject. The lymphatics and lacteals 
 can scarcely be seen even when the eye is assisted by 
 the microscope, unless they are full ; and they seldom 
 contain any fluid at all, except during the life of the 
 animal, and a short time after death. We cannot much 
 wonder, therefore, that for so many ages they escaped 
 observation, or that, when the lymphatics were discover- 
 ed physiologists found it difficult to explain their use. 
 Tiie use of the lacteals of Asellius was, indeed, abundant- 
 ly obvious ; but what nourishment could be conveyed 
 by vessels arising from the very points of the extremi- 
 ties ? 
 
 Among many various opinions, it was thought by 
 Rudbeck and Barthoiine themselves, that the lymphatics 
 were desiy;ncd to convey back to the heart, by suction, 
 or absorption, all the fluids that had wandered from the 
 course of circulation, and remained after nourishing the 
 parts. In this persuasion Rudbeck asserts, that they 
 prevent accumulation of water in the cavities, and that 
 dropsies are occasioned by their rupture or obstruction. 
 Nor was the opinion, that such an absorption is regularly 
 taking place in all parts of the animal body, any new 
 idea in anatomy. It was the '''^neral and well-known 
 doctrine of the ancients, as Kan Boerhaave plainly proves
 
 726 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 ill Ills work, culiUcd, J'l-r.s/nrali'j dicta Hijijiocran. The 
 office of absorption, however, was ascribed to veins ; but, 
 as it was obvious that the vessels discovered by Asellius 
 performed the functions formerly ascribed to the veins 
 of the intestines, Rudbcck. and Bartholiue claimed the 
 same privilege for the lymphatics in all the other 
 parts of the body ; Vienssenius, a professor at Montpe- 
 lier, endeavoured to prove, from mercurial frictions, and 
 the effects of bathing in water, that the same vessels 
 opened on the surface. Similar ideas of their nature 
 and functions had occurred to Glisson, to Willis, to 
 Hoffman, and Mr Noguez, a French anatomist, who, as 
 early as tlic year 1727, calls them conduits abnorbants, 
 or absorbing vessels. The same doctrine has been con- 
 firmed by two very distinguished anatomists, the late 
 Dr Hunter, and the present Dr Monro of Edinburgh ; 
 who have warmly disputed about the honour of suggest- 
 ing a thought which was familiar to anatomists before 
 they were in existence. 
 
 As the system of absorbents is the last great and 
 leading discovery made in anatomy by means of dis- 
 section, we shall now, according to our proposed plan, 
 take a view of the principal improvements that have 
 been introduced in the way of demonstration. The in- 
 sufficiency of verbal descriptions had suggested to sur- 
 geons and anatomists, at a very early period, the idea of 
 supplying this defect by pictures and figures. The ho- 
 nour of first introducing this mode of demonstration has 
 been assigned to Leonardo da Vinci, an Italian, eminent 
 for his knowledge of philosophy, painting, and anatomy, 
 who died in the beginning of the 16th centui7 ; but to 
 this honour, whatever may his merit in other respects, 
 he is by no means entitled. Surgical figures had been 
 exhibited by Moschion in the third century ; and Guy 
 de Chauliac, who flourished in the 14th century, informs 
 us, that Hermondaville, who lived before him, had 
 taught anatomy from figures at Montpelier. At all 
 events, it is plain from the expression of Guy de Chauli- 
 ac, that anatomical figures were used in his time ; 
 and Montagnana, who flourished about the middle of 
 the I5th century, is the author of some excellent figures. 
 So general was the practice about the beginnmg of the 
 16th century, that almost every book on anatomy was ac- 
 companied with engravings : of these we may mention 
 the works of Peiligh, Hund, Carpi, Dryander, Vesalius 
 Vasseus, and Stephans. 
 
 Such figures are exceedingly useful, when access 
 cannot be had to the parts of the body which they repre- 
 sent ; but to be contented with studying figures when 
 the originals may be procured, not only bespeaks a total 
 want of taste for anatomy, but seems scarcely consistent 
 with common understanding. 
 
 The use of the microscope, which was introduced 
 about the middle of the 16th century, was another great 
 acquisition to anatomy. It was first tried by the accurate 
 Eustachius, and afterwards employed by Grew and Mal- 
 pighi in illustrating the structure and economy of plants. 
 Malpighi also made use of it in demonstrating parts of 
 the animal system. To this instrument we are indebted 
 for many discoveries of Swaramerdam, Leewenhoek, 
 Uaker, Trembley, Lyonet, and Bonnet. It has given 
 rise, likewise, to some foolish and absurd theories, which 
 are evidently founded on optical deceptions : we allude. 
 
 particularly, to a theory of animalcula in the seminal 
 fluid ; another of muscular motion, founded on the struc- 
 ture of the ultimate fibre ; and a third, about the struc- 
 ture and appearance of the nerves. 
 
 The last unprovement of this kind which deserves to 
 be mentioned, is the art of injection. To dissect pro- 
 perly the smaller branches of collapsed blood-vessels, 
 had always been found a difficult and tedious operation. 
 As a remedy for this inconvenience, Jacobus Sylvius, 
 the master of Vesalius, was wont to fill them with a co- 
 loured liquor ; Eustachius adopted a similar plan while 
 examining the kidnies ; and the same method was occa- 
 sionally practised by Glisson, Bellini, Willis, and others ; 
 while Riolan was accustomed to inflate them with air. 
 Among those who have improved this mode of demon- 
 stration, the honourable Mr Boyle deserves particularly 
 to be mentioned. He had seen some dried preparations,* 
 and proposes different kinds of injections, tiiat would af- 
 terwards harden and preserve the veins and arteries 
 plump. Portal informs us, that something ol this kind 
 was employed by Bellini ; at last De Graaf, about the 
 year 1964, contrived convenient instruments for the pur- 
 pose, and claimed the merit of the v/hole discovery .f 
 What now remained to be sought was a proper injec- 
 tion. Marcellus Malpighi had employed quicksilver ; 
 and De Graaf only mentions a number of tinctures, 
 which all flowed out on the least rupture of the vessels. 
 His countryman Swammerdam, seeing the defect, em- 
 ployed wax, which hardens upon cooling; and, to secure 
 the praise of the invention, sent one of his preparations 
 to the Royal Society of London in 1672. Ruysch, the 
 friend of Swammerdam, carried this art to the highest 
 perfection which it has yet attained ; made a number of 
 valuable discoveries ; and, by means of maceration and 
 erosion, exhibited large clusters of vessels as small as 
 hairs, and freed from every surrounding substance. 
 
 Having thus given a general view of the discoveries 
 made in anatomy by means of dissection and observation, 
 we shall proceed to examine the advantages which it has 
 derived from the application of mechanical and chemical 
 philosophy, and to inquire how far those sciences may 
 enable us to explain the phenomena of organized bo- 
 dies. 
 
 The ancients could conceive no other method of ex- 
 plaining the appearances of material objects than by me- 
 chanical philosophy. So partial was Pythagoras to this 
 science, that, even in morals and theology, he employs 
 the language of geometry. Hippocrates himself, if the 
 letter toThessalus be genuine, has strongly recommend- 
 ed geometry and nimibers to the surgeon and physician, 
 and mentioned the cases in which they may be useful. 
 Plato imagined that the Deity himself was always geo- 
 metrizing ; and has asserted, that the four elements 
 are four regular geometrical figures. Galen endea- 
 voured to account for a number of diseases from certain 
 changes in the number, magnitude, figure, situation, ve- 
 locity, momentum, and adhesion of the parts ; while 
 Descartes, an eminent philosopher and mathematician, 
 biassed by a favourite hypothesis, was led to infer, that 
 inferior animals are mere machines. Such opinions 
 seemed not only to warrant, but even to invite the appli- 
 cation of geometry in explaining the functions of the 
 animal structure. Accordingly Fabricius ab Aquapen- 
 
 * EiisUacbius injected, dried, and macerated his preparations. 
 
 \ De Giaaf i^c Sipkone, In the same year Mayow published his book De Bespiratiom, in which he speaks of injecting 
 ,?pe s-:rir.g£. 
 
 tlie lungs
 
 AJs ATOMY 
 
 727 
 
 ilente partially applied matliematical reasoning to illus- 
 trate the action ot some of the muscles. 
 
 The same plan was adopted by Herrigonius, Steno, 
 and others ; and, at last, with peculiar success by Bo- 
 relli, in his valuable work De mrjtu jinimaliiaii. Till his 
 time it had been generally believed, that, in muscular 
 action, nature produced a great force by a small effort ; 
 and that she thus effected her purpose by certain levers, 
 or mechanical powers, supposed to exist in the muscles 
 or tendons. Borelli shewed clearly that no such powers 
 exist in either, and that bones are the only levers in the 
 body. He proved, likewise, that these levers were of a 
 kind very different from what had been imagined ; and, 
 from the direction of the muscles, from the obliquity of 
 their insertion, from the place of their insertion near the 
 joint, from its situation between the fulcrum, and the re- 
 sistance, he demonstrated, that nature, instead of produ- 
 cing great force by a small effort, was on many occa- 
 sions obliged to exert a power by many hundred times 
 greater than the weight which it had to overcome. 
 
 Having thus ascertained the nature of those levers, 
 he proceeded next to calculate tlie strength of the dif- 
 ferent muscles, and found, that many which, in the dead 
 body, scarcely support the weight of the bones to which 
 they are attached, do in the living exert a force equal 
 to some thousands of pounds. All these conclu- 
 sions he drew from data universally admitted ; but he 
 had an opinion with regard to the structure of the mus- 
 cular fibre, which would make their force almost in- 
 credible. On this hypothesis, the force of only three 
 muscles of the hip-joint is equal to 375,420 pounds. 
 His observations on the forms and movements of dif- 
 ferent animals, of men, quadrupeds, birds, fishes, and 
 insects, are not only highly interesting to the naturalist, 
 but might be studied with advantage by the surgeon 
 who wishes to improve the mode of cure in luxation and 
 fracture, and in all those cases where muscular action is 
 materially concerned. Borelli was probably the first 
 who clearly demonstrated the immense force of a mus- 
 cular stomach, and has given a detail of many experi- 
 ments, which, when afterwards repeated by the Abbe 
 Spalanzani, were greatly admired, because they were 
 ignorantly supposed to be new. 
 
 His success in explaining muscular motion, induced 
 him to apply mathematical reasoning to the other func- 
 tions both in a state of health and disease ; and his friend 
 Bellini, carrying it still farther, was reckoned the in- 
 ventor of what has been called mathematical medicine : 
 a discovery deemed so important, that it has been styled 
 " nobilissimum atque utilissimtim inzientum ;" and was 
 thought by some little inferior to the discovery of the 
 circulation by Harvey. This discovery, if such it may 
 be called, found a warm and strenuous advocate in his 
 friend Pitcairn, who afterwards published the Physico- 
 mechanical Elements of Medicine. The celebrated 
 Boerhaavc, Pitcairn's pupil, and the most illustrious 
 iharacter of his time, by giving his sanction likewise to 
 many of its principles, seemed to establish it in the 
 schools of physic. 
 
 The animal system was now considered merely as a 
 mechanico-hydraulical machine, and many strange the- 
 ories were formed concerning the lentor, and fluidity of 
 the humours ; the shape, magnitude, and gravity, of the 
 particles ; and the cavities of the vessels, supposed 
 capable of receiving only those of a certain kuid, which, 
 if they chanced to wander from their place, occasioned 
 disease by an error loci. Carried away by enthusiasm, 
 
 the mechanical physicians could not perceive that most 
 of their conclusions were drawn from liypothescs, sup- 
 ported neither by observation nor expe:inieiit ; and so 
 eager were they in their liivciin ilc pursuit, that thev 
 seemed to be offended wlicn any other mode of reason- 
 ing was suggested. " Since the human body," said Dr 
 Friend, "is nothing but a fine contexture of solids and 
 fluids, which observe the rules of mechanism, it is amaz- 
 ing to find that men should think of any other principle 
 than the mechanical to explain it by. Would any one," 
 he adds, "go so much ontof tlie way, as to account for 
 the motions of a watch irom the jjrecarious doctrine of 
 acids and alkali ? or would he make use of the etherial 
 matter of Des Carles to solve all the appearances of hy- 
 drostatics ?" 
 
 Such opinions of the importance of a favourite science 
 might, indeed, be natural ; but they were carried to 
 such extravagance, and led to consequences so very 
 absurd, that mathematical reasoning has, for some time 
 past, been almost entirely excluded' from physiology. It 
 is but fair, however, to confess, that its enemies have 
 been as imprudent in rejecting it altogether, as Bellini 
 and Pitcairn in extending it too far. No other species 
 of reasoning could ever have explained the motions of 
 animals; shewn the force which the heart and stomach 
 exert in their contractions ; the velocity of the blood ; 
 its momentum and quantity in different vessels ; and the 
 effect of the several angles at which the branches rise 
 from their trunks. It may be added, that no other mode 
 of reasoning has been so successful hi giving a rational 
 theory of vision ; in explauiing the organs and pheno- 
 mena of sound ; and in explaining the relative propor- 
 tions of the different excretions, and the causes which 
 affect them. 
 
 But of all the sciences, none has made bolder pre- 
 tensions than chemistry to explain the functions of the 
 animal system. The first who suggested the use of 
 chemistry in physiology was Paracelsus: a man of sin- 
 gularly eccentric manners, keen, rash, ignorant, conceit- 
 ed, and notorious for that insufferable arrogance by 
 wliich the weak-minded in prospei'ity are generally 
 characterised. Ambitious to an excess of popular ap- 
 plause, he would allow no merit to any other person ; 
 and, for that reason, was particularly violent against all 
 those of his own profession who had acquired any repu- 
 tation. Having excited the admiration of the vulgar 
 and credulous, by some remarkable cures which he per- 
 formed by means of mercury and opium, he fancied 
 that he was something more than human ; and, uniting 
 cunning with ambition, endeavoured to impose himself 
 on the world, not only as the first physician, but the 
 first philosopher and divine then existing. Thus idly 
 flattering his own vanity, he, in contemptuous derision, 
 styled Hippocrates, Galen, and Avicenna, humouraUsta, 
 and burnt the works of the two latter publicly at Basil: 
 He threatened next to overturn the system of Aristotle, 
 and to send back to school, the Pope, Luther, and Zuin- 
 glius, as he had already sent Hippocrates, Galen, and 
 Avicenna. 
 
 The art of anatomy, of which he was totally ignorant, 
 he affected to despise as local, material, and gross, and 
 worthy of no attention. He proposes a new kind of 
 anatomy, however, which was to consist in the chemical 
 analysis of the different organs ; — " this," he exclaims, 
 " is alone the true, this the genuine, this the noblest 
 kind of anatomy 1" By this anatomy he expected to find 
 the kinds and propoitions of the three great chemical
 
 728 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 principles of that time, bulphur, mercury, and salt : the 
 sulphur, what ascended in flame ; the mercury, what as- 
 cended in smoke ; and the salt, what remained alter 
 combustion. 
 
 As he believed that the animal fabiic is a microcosm, 
 or little world, governed by a spirit which he called 
 Archaeus, so he also imagined, that, like the great world, 
 it contains the principles of all animals, minerals, and 
 vegetables ; and, by the power of fancy, or, ratlier, by 
 the aid of the poet Manilius, who wrote on astronomy 
 in the time of Augustus, he discovered its sun, its 
 moon, and its planets ; and asserts, that it is necessary 
 for a physician to know, likewise, its east and its west, its 
 meridian line, its polar axis, the tail of the Dragon, and 
 its sign Aries. 
 
 It was not to be expected that chemistry, recom- 
 mended by such a person, could receive much attention 
 from physiologists. His writings, however, contributed 
 to free them from the shackles of Galen, and rendered 
 chemical studies so fashionable, that Borelli, in his 
 Bibtiotheca Chymica, published in 1653, enumerates no 
 fewer than 4000 persons who had been engaged in that 
 branch of science, though he mentions none but those of 
 his own knowledge. 
 
 One would naturally imagine, that, from their joint 
 labours, much light would be thrown on the animal 
 economy. But Boerhaave, in his history of Chemistry, 
 complains, that many of those engaged in this study, by 
 their low character, their dissipated lives, their preten- 
 sions to magic, and their mercenary views, not only re- 
 tarded the progress of the science, but prevented man- 
 kind from reaping the advantage of their discoveries. 
 A circumstance so unfavourable to the chemists was not 
 likely to be overlooked by their opponents the mathe- 
 maticians : Part of that odium so justly attached to the 
 character of the men was transferred to the science, and 
 thus chemistry was rejected from physiology. 
 
 Among those who contributed to restore it, we are 
 chiefly indebted to the honourable Mr Boyle, Romberg, 
 Mayow, Geoffrey, the younger Lemery,Stahl, and Hoff- 
 man. Boyle, the earliest of these writers, not only 
 analysed a considerable number of animal substances, 
 but pointed out several advantages which anatomists 
 might derive from the study of this science. He was 
 the inventor, likewise, of what has been called the 
 pneumatic philosophy, which was afterwards so much 
 studied by Mayow and Hales, and has been so much im- 
 proved by our countryman Dr Black, whose merit as a 
 chemist will perpetuate his memory to the latest ages. 
 By this discovery, chemical analysis is brought to a 
 high state of perfection ; and the modern chemistry has 
 already ascertained, in a much more satisfactory man- 
 ner than had ever been done before, the component 
 parts of many of the animal solids and fluids : havuig 
 shewn farther, that, in many cases, the proportions vary 
 according to age, health, and disease, it gives us hopes 
 that it will be able to provide better remedies than are 
 yet known, for many of the morbid changes which take 
 place. 
 
 Besides ascertaining the particular nature of those 
 changes, chemistry has furnished the best explanation 
 of two very important functions — digestion and respira- 
 tion. The ancients, as has been already observed, 
 generally imagined, that the food was prepared by putres- 
 
 cence or concoction, to which Erasistratus afterwards 
 added a muscular force. But ncitner putre:ioencc, con- 
 coction, nor grinding, nor even the hypotnesis of fer- 
 mentation, could ever explain how, in certain stomachs, 
 the hardest bones are converted into chyle, until the 
 chemists, from frequently observing the processes of 
 their laboratories, began to suspect, that a certain liquor 
 was secreted in the stomach, po;>sessing the properties 
 of a chemical solvent. Boyle and Ray ascertained its 
 existence : Grew proved, that it could not act upon 
 living bodies ; and others observed, tliat it varied ac- 
 cording to the nature of the food and the state of the 
 stomach, that it was different in different animals, and 
 even in the same animal at different periods. These 
 facts have certainly helped to explain a great number of 
 curious phenomena, witli regard to digestion. 
 
 The function of respiration was still more obscure, 
 and much farther beyond the reach of common ob- 
 servers. The ancients seem to have thought that it 
 was intended to moderate the heat of the £f<^t>7«» wg, 
 or, as Virgil calls it, the " igneus vigor." Yet Cicero 
 appears to have entertained a different opinion. He 
 imagined that aether, or the principle of fire, was, either 
 in a sensible or latent state, intimately blended with all 
 bodies ; he says expressly, that the coldest water owes 
 its fluidity to the heat which it contains ; that even air, 
 which, according to the Stoics, is the coldest of bodies, 
 possesses no inconsiderable portion of this igneous 
 principle ; and that its combination with this principle, 
 is what makes it necessary to the preservation of animal 
 life.* He adds, that the air, on entering the body, is 
 warmed by the breath, and still more by the agitation 
 of the lungs, whence it is sent through the heart to the 
 arteries. t This language would almost induce us to 
 believe, that Cicero supposed respiration to be the 
 principal cause of animal heat. But his random expres- 
 sions are, in general, so vague, that we must, in justice, 
 ascribe this discovery to a later period. Our country- 
 man, Mayow, was the first who entertained accurate 
 ideas on the subject of respiration. From a number of 
 well-conducted chemical experiments, he proved, that air 
 is a compound, only one of the ingredients of which sup- 
 ports life ; he proved, likewise, that the same ingredient 
 alone maintains combustion, and therefore naturally con- 
 cluded, that respiration is the principal cause of animal 
 temperature. Observing that the same aerial ingredient 
 is contained in nitre, and that nitre changes the colour 
 of the blood from black to red ; he very easily explained 
 the cause of that remarkable difference of colour, which 
 Lower had seen between the pulmonic and systomic 
 fluid, while passing through the lungs. From this 
 change of colour, he was led to conclude, that the blood, 
 in passing through the lungs, was mixed, or somehow, 
 combined, with these nitro-aerial particles; and that 
 the principal object of respiration is, to furnish a con- 
 stant and regular supply of this ingredient, which is 
 necessary to life, and to the due performance of the 
 other functions. This theory, however, was opposed by 
 an opinion, then prevalent, that the alternate movement 
 of the lungs was chiefly designed to promote the cir- 
 culation of the blood. To obviate this objection, he 
 observed, that the circulation of the ioetus is carried 
 on without such assistance, and that, though our 
 breathing be suppressed for a while, the pulse is felt 
 
 T)e Natura Deor.lS\h. ii.cap. 10. and 45. 
 
 + Ibid. Lib, ii. cap. 55-
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 72t> 
 
 ut the wrist as before.— See Mayow dc Res/iiraiionc, 
 p. 260-1. 
 
 This aerial fluid, discovered by Mayow, was after- 
 wards obtained in a separate state by the celebrated 
 Dr Priestly, who gave it the name of oxygen gas ; and 
 Dr Black, by the discovery of latent heal, has been 
 enabled to explain in what manner it occasions animal 
 temperature. 
 
 These facts sufficiently shew how much physiology 
 is indebted to the cliemists ; and encourage us to hope, 
 that much valual)le infornialion may yet be derived from 
 their labours. Let them be careful, however, to con- 
 fine themselves within ti\ose bounds which nature has 
 prescribed to their researches : let them remember, 
 that every science has its limits, beyond which, it serves 
 only to mislead ; that chemical knowledge can no more 
 explain the properties of a circle, than mathematical 
 reasoning the efl'ervescence of acid and alkali: let them 
 beware, in short, of proceeding, as the n.athematicians 
 and older chemists did once before, on the vain suppo- 
 sition, tliat their science can explain every thhig — as if 
 a person, acquainted with only a few districts, or comi- 
 irics, should think himself qualified to give a map of 
 the world. 
 
 A caution of this kind is the more necessary, as some 
 chemists have begun to deny the existence of a vital 
 principle, and to maintain, that all the phenomena of 
 living bodies are the eflfect of chemical combinations, and 
 that a more perfect combination might produce those 
 phenoinena in nature which we ascribe to the providence, 
 wisdom, and unbounded power of the Great Author of 
 all things. Such speculations, founded merely on gra- 
 tuitous hypotheses, and tending ultimately to subvert not 
 only the religion but the morals of mankind, cannot be 
 too strongly reprobated, and are indeed more like the 
 ravings of fanatical enthusiasts, than the sober contem- 
 plations of philosophers. 
 
 It will not be difficult to shew, that something more 
 than chemical affinities is necessary to account for the 
 phenomena of the animal structure. When we consider 
 the number of bones, joints, cartilages, veins, arteries, 
 lymphatics, glands, nerves, ligaments, and membranes, 
 all differing from one another, yet all of determined 
 shapes, and all growing at the same time — when we 
 see the number of chemical processes by which they 
 are formed, differing in kind, but not interfering, or 
 similar in kind but producing works of a different form, 
 and although contiguous, always distinct in their opera- 
 tions — wlien we see the same chemical processes in the 
 other half of the body performing the like variegated 
 work in the same way and in the same time — when we 
 see them change and succeed one another according to 
 the stated periods of life, and yet all their actions regu- 
 larly cooperating, all depenfling on one another, all 
 contributing to one end, and constructing one whole, 
 subservient to one will, and obedient to one mind — can 
 we suppose that this whole is produced without a plan, 
 or that this plan could have been formed without great 
 wisdom and foresight ; qualities which we must now 
 ascribe to chemical affinities, if they be the sole agents 
 in nature ? In this case wc must suppose, that these 
 chemical affinities vary their work at pleasure ; that 
 they construct on different plans the numerous species 
 of animals and vegetables, preserve the regular diffe- 
 rence of sex, and the stated proportions of males and 
 females, with all the desires, appetites, and passions 
 ■which accompany that distinction. It will likewise be 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 necessary to believe, that they arc acquainted with dif- 
 ferent countries, know the various seasons of each, and 
 that this power occasionally extends through a space of 
 some thousand miles, drawing animals from distant cli- 
 mates, repelling others in an opposite direction, and at 
 last sending all back at a stated peiiod to their homes, 
 as we see to be the case with birds and fishes, and, in 
 smaller degrees, with quadrupeds of passage. 
 
 Since they occasionally form such rom'.)inations as a 
 Homer, a Virgil, a Milton, or a Newton, we must also 
 conclude, that they possess the faculties of memory, 
 imagination, and reason, in a much higher degree than 
 could possibly lielong to those falirics of their own con- 
 struction. When wc hive brought ourselves to Ijclicve 
 all this, it cannot surely be difficult to imagine, that all 
 our association of ideas, and their connexions with arbi- 
 trary signs, are only a kind of chemical affinities; nor 
 need we be surprised to see hereafter, the processes of 
 tlie laboi'atory exhibiting all the symptoms of passion, 
 desire, and appetite, discussing moral and religious sub- 
 jects, pretending to great skill in philosophy, and form- 
 ing new models of empiits. 
 
 Such are the strange and absurd consequences to 
 which our chemical theories inevitably lead : but to view 
 the matter in a more serious light, let us ask to what 
 do these reveries tend ? and what do tliey prove ? Only 
 this, that some chemists are beginning to wander from 
 the true path of science, and flatter themselves that they 
 are making important discoveries, while they employ 
 the phrase chemical affmiiies to express things which 
 were just as well understood before by their ordinary 
 names. It cannot, indeed, be denied, that both chemi- 
 cal and mechanical causes are employed as operative 
 agents in the animal system : but, as they are always 
 observed to act in a uniform manner, we must conclude, 
 that, in the execution of different plans, they are con- 
 stantly directed by some other agent, which confines 
 their operations to certain forms, situations, magnitudes, 
 and periods of life. This agent, philosophers have dis- 
 tinguished by the name of vital principle, and have de- 
 monstrated many of its properties ; while anatomists, 
 and naturalists, as Harvey, Malpighi, Lyonet, Bonnet, 
 Trembley, Baker, the late Mr Hunter, and many others, 
 have shewn its vast influence in the system, and proved, 
 from a number of sound observations, and accurate ex- 
 periments, its peculiar powers in a great variety of dif- 
 ferent animals. When we consider what they have 
 done, we cannot but express our sui-prise, that impor- 
 tant enquiries of this nature, begun and carried on by 
 the most ingenious anatomists in Europe, shoidd have 
 been almost totally laid aside, and have given place to 
 the theories of men little acquainted with the subject, 
 who had studied the animal structure and economy chief- 
 ly in the closet, and who had proceeded on this singu- 
 lar postulate, that there is no differerxe between the 
 living and the dead states, that the principle of life 
 does not affect the animal processes, and consequently 
 that conclusions drawn from experiments made on the 
 dead body, may fairly and warrantably be applied to th.c 
 living. 
 
 " This species of philosophy," says Dr Hunter, " has 
 prevailed in many parts of piiysiology, and makes up a 
 great part of what has been taught as sound and useful 
 physiological learning. The consequence has been, that 
 one thirig of peculiar properties and powers has been 
 explained by another of different properties and powers, 
 as absurdly as if colours had been explained by sounds. 
 
 4Z
 
 730 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 But animal ftinctioiis, generally speaking, arc like nothing 
 to be found in llic works ui art, or wlierc there is not 
 animation and life ; and had physiologists spent that 
 time in makinij accurate observations upon animals 
 themselves which has been thrown away upon mechan- 
 ical and chemical visions, by this time we might have 
 understood animal principles and processes much better 
 than we do now." In confirmation of these observations 
 we may ask, wliether, without experiment or observa- 
 tion, mechanical or chemical reasoning could ever have 
 informed us, that a new tail will grow to the lizard, and 
 a new head on many of the vermes, after the old ones 
 are struck off? Or could we have been assured, on any 
 principle of the two sciences, that when the first pha- 
 lanx in the large claw of a lobster or cray fish, is bro- 
 ken or destroyed, the remaining phalanxes shall drop 
 otf at the fourth joint, and that then the animal, by its 
 vital power, shall reproduce an entire limb such as the 
 former ? Could they ever have learned, from their know- 
 ledge of angles or chemical affinities, that eight or nine 
 successive generations of the puceron or vine-fretter, 
 can propagate their species without the intercourse of 
 sexes, and that after that period, the intercourse of 
 two sexes become necessary ? Or could they have f^?re- 
 seen that the large bone of the human leg may die of 
 disease, a new one occupy its place, and that yet, the 
 person affected should all this time be able to walk? 
 
 These are a few specimens of that knowledge ■ iiich 
 the chemical philosophers would have us to despijc, or 
 attempt to explain by their doctrine of affinities. It is 
 unnecessary, we trust, to warn our readers of the con- 
 se(|uences. As the living principle has become the sub- 
 ject of experiment, and methods have been pointed out, 
 by which its properties, powers, functions, and modes of 
 action, may be ascertained, it cannot surely be prudent 
 to leave a field of such useful enquiry, merely because 
 it is not countenanced by the fashion of the day. Such 
 opposition is not peculiar to the vital principle. The 
 circulation of the blood, discovered by Harvey, was for 
 a long time hooted and ridiculed, because the fastidious 
 pride of anatomists, and their attachment to favourite 
 theories, would not allow them to examine the facts on 
 which it was founded. Chemistry experienced a similar 
 treatment from the mathematicians, who talked with 
 contempt of its acids and alkalies, because it seemed 
 to threaten destruction to their diagrams, postulates, 
 and calculations. General knowledge alone can prevent 
 such ridiculous prejudices, which usually arise from al- 
 lowing the mind to be wholly engrossed with a favourite 
 science. In that situation, a person must necessarily 
 see things through a filse medium. The chemist can 
 only see his affinities; the geometrician his mechanical 
 laws ; and both must resemble the blind man, who, ex- 
 amining visible objects by the ear, concluded that colours 
 were a species of sounds, and that scarlet was something 
 like the blast of a trumpet. Nor was this misapplication 
 of a sense attended with more palpable errors than the 
 application of one science in explaining and illustrating 
 the principles of another. 
 
 It is a singular and most curious fact in the history of 
 anatomy, that geometry, chemistry, and the vital prin- 
 ciple of Helmont and Stahl, have all, for a time, been 
 successively rejected from physiology, because each in 
 its turn would attempt to explain, on its own principles, 
 the whole functions of the animal system. Should not 
 these failures serve as a hint to modern physiologists, 
 that the different functions of the animal system are not 
 
 to be c.,.plained upon one hypothesis ; that nature is not 
 to be dragged into our systems, nor restricted by our 
 rules, and that, therefore, if we mean to investigate 
 the truth, we must not dictate to her in a tone of autho- 
 rity, but mark her laws, observe her operations, and try 
 to distinguish in what cases she principally employs her 
 chemical, mechanical, and vital agents ? Perhaps she 
 may even employ more than we have yet discovered : 
 much is reserved for time and accident, and of much, 
 too, we must for ever remain ignorant. To comprehend 
 all that relates to the animal system, is to comprehend 
 its great Creator, an attainment far beyond our hopes; 
 for though we can trace the chain of gradation from the 
 meanest reptile up to man, from man to the Sovereign of 
 the universe, the distance is unmeasurable. 
 
 In these preliminaiy observations, many of our read- 
 ers will recognize the masterly hand of one of the most 
 celebrated anatomists of the age. We acknowledge, 
 with equal pride and gratitude, that they were drawn 
 up, almost -verbatim, from Dr Barclay's introductory lec- 
 tures, which, with the frank liberality that characterises a 
 great mind, he allowed us to make use of in our work. 
 It will be considered as no mean pledge of the value of 
 the subsequent part of this article, that it has received 
 bis decided approbation. 
 
 We shall now conclude the history of anatomy, by a 
 brief account of the new nomenclature with which Dr 
 Barclay has enriched the science. 
 
 It had been long regretted, that the nomenclature of 
 anatomy was both vague and indefinite ; and that, in 
 particular, those terms, which referred to the position 
 and aspect of the several parts of the body, were ambi- 
 guous, and, having been contrived merely for the human 
 body, could not properly be employed in describing the 
 structure of inferior animals. Thus, what is aufiericr or 
 infirirjr in man, is anterior or posterior in quadrupeds. 
 What is external or internal, in one situation of the bo- 
 dy, is reversed in another, &c. To take a familiar 
 instance, in the fore-arm, the side of the hand next the 
 thumb has sometimes been described as external, some- 
 times as ititernal ; and sometimes, (as by Albinus,) as 
 anterior ; just as it has been viewed in a state of supi- 
 nation, of pronation, or between both. 
 
 Some attempts had been made in the latter end of 
 the last century, by Dumas and other French writers, to 
 reform the language of anatomy, as their countrymen 
 had lately reformed that of chemistry ; but in this we do 
 not think they have been very successful. Their sub- 
 stitution of sus and sous for superior and inferior, does 
 not remove the ambiguity of these expressions, and 
 some of their compound terms are so long, that they 
 appear more like definitions than names. 
 
 Dr Barclay published his thoughts on anatomical no- 
 menclature in 1803, after having employed many of the 
 tenns which he there introduces, in his public lectures. 
 
 The new terms recommended by Dr Barclay refer 
 chiefly to position and aspect. 
 
 One of the most general aspects of the parts of an 
 animal body is that which looks towards an imaginary 
 plane, supposed to be drawn through the head, neck, 
 and trunk, dividing the whole body into two equal and 
 similar halves. This is called by Dr Barclay, the mesial 
 plane ; those parts which look towards this plane are 
 said to have a mesial aspect ; while those which look 
 towards the opposite direction have a lateral aspect, this 
 aspect being dextral or sinistral, according as the part- 
 lies to the right or left of the meisial plane.
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 731 
 
 Instead of exteiiial, used to denote those parts which 
 are next tlic surlace, Ur Barclay employs the term dcr- 
 inal, and for iiiicrnul, which bignifies parts ai a distance 
 from the burface, he uses ccniral ; and bonictuncs, in 
 speaking of the circunifurence of an organ, he calls 
 tliose parts which are next the circumference, /icri- 
 iilural.* 
 
 The particular aspects and positions have different 
 names, according as thcyxcfer to the Acarf, the li-nnk, 
 or the extremities. 
 
 The head, besides the general aspects of mesial, 
 dextral, sinistral, Jierijiheral, and central, has four or five 
 particular aspects. Tlius, the parts next the top of the 
 head are coronal ; those next the base, basilar ; those next 
 the occipital protuberance at the back of the head, 
 (called by the Greeks Jnion,) are inial ; those opposite to 
 this, at the root of the nose, glabi liar ; while those parts 
 which are at the greatest rectilineal distance from the 
 inion, (as the chin in man,) are antinial. If lines be drawn 
 between every two of these opposite aspects, and be- 
 tween those of dextral and sinistral ; we shall have four 
 diameters for the head, denominated from the aspects at 
 the extremities of the line corono-basilar, inio-glabellar, 
 inantinial, and dexlro-sinistral. 
 
 In the trunk that aspect of organs which is next the 
 atlas, or first joint of the neck, is ailantal ; that of those 
 next the sacrum is sacral ; those which look to the 
 sternum or breast-bone, have a sternal, and those which 
 look towards the opposite part or back have a dorsal 
 aspect. 
 
 In the extremities, beside the usual general aspects, 
 there are two terms that refer to both kinds of extre- 
 mities. That part of any of their component bones, 
 which is next the trunk, is called proximal, while that 
 which is in the opposite direction is said to be distal. 
 The extremities themselves are of course atlantal and 
 sacral, according as they are next the alias or the sa- 
 crum. 
 
 In the atlantal extremities, the terms are taken from 
 the names of the two bones that compose the fore arm, 
 and from the positions of the elbow and the palm of the 
 hand. Thus the aspect of those parts that are next the 
 radius is radial, that of those next the ubia is ulnar, 
 while those which look towards the elbow are said to 
 have sXianconal, and those which look tov/ards the palm 
 of the hand (with the exception of the palm itself, to 
 which the term volar is applied,) are said to have a 
 thenal aspect. In the sacral extremities the terms are 
 taken in a similar manner from the tibia and fibula, and 
 from the positions of the ham {fiofdcs,) and the knee 
 pan, {rotiila ;) those parts that look towards the tibia 
 being tibial, those towards the Jibula, Jibular, while 
 those that look to the ham, have a popliteal aspect, and 
 those which look towards the rotula a rotular aspect. 
 The term plantar, is here confined to the sole of the 
 foot, as was volar to the palm of the hand. 
 
 In general, every part of the body is supposed to have 
 six aspects. Thus every part of the head has an inial, 
 a glabellar, a coronal, a basilar, a dextral, and a sinistral 
 aspect; every part of the trunk has an atlaiilal, a sacral, 
 a sternal, a dorsal, a dextral, and a sinistral aspect ; 
 
 every part of the atlantal extremities has a /iro:ci?nal, 
 distal, radial, ulnar, anconul, and thenal aspect ; and eve- 
 ry part of the sacral extremities a proximal, distal, 
 tibial, Jibular, rotular, M\<X JiofUitral d^nsct. 
 
 Tliesc terms, as they heic stand, are adjectives, re- 
 ferring only to posiiiijn and aspect ; but ilicy may be 
 converted into general adjectives, by changing tne ter- 
 mination from al or ar, into en. Thus radien, ulnen, 
 tibicn,Jibiilen, refer to something belonging to the radius, 
 ulna, tibia, or Jibula. 
 
 liy anotlier cliange on the termination, viz. substitut- 
 ing d for / or r, the adjectives may be converted into ad- 
 verbs, expressing direction, like up-uard, downward, 
 backward, J'orward, outward, inward, sideways, 8cc. but 
 in a more definite manner. Thus, by one or other of 
 the four straight muscles of the eye, the ball may be 
 moved coronad, basilad, mesiad, or laterad ; the head 
 may be drawn sternad, or dorsad, &c. .Some other 
 terms are introduced by Dr Barclay, and some other 
 modes of employing them are mentioned ; but for these 
 we must refer to the work itself, where plates illustrat- 
 ing the terms are given. 
 
 With respect to this nomenclature, we may remark in 
 general, that it is simple, clear, and founded on fixed 
 principles; and though some of the terms may appear 
 harsh and singular, few of them are new except in their 
 terminations. The new term of mesial is particularly 
 useful, and those of atlantal and sacral, sternal and dor- 
 sal, peripheral and central being equally applicable to 
 all the vertebral animals, as to man, render the com- 
 parative anatomy of those animals, more explicit in its 
 phraseology, and therefore more easily understood. 
 
 In fact, when these terms become familiar, and, like 
 many terms in common language, exchange their origi- 
 nal signification for one more arbitrary, they may be ex- 
 tended to all animals. Just as the word candlestick 
 signifies any thing that holds a candle, and the word lak- 
 horn any thing that holds ink ; so these terms, by a natu- 
 ral transition, are applicable to invertebral animals. 
 Thus the atlantal aspect, will denote that aspect, which 
 points towards the head; the sacral aspect, tiiat which 
 points towards the opposite extremity; though in these 
 animals there be neither atlas nor sacrum. In insects 
 and worms, for instance, these terms will denote parts 
 corresponding in relative positions, to those parts in ver- 
 tebral animals, from which the terms are originally de- 
 rived. In short, the principle on which this nomencla- 
 ture is constructed, is so obvious, and the application of 
 it so natural and easy, that even the youngest student at- 
 tending a course of anatomical lectures may become 
 master of it in less than an hour. 
 
 Dr Barclay has himself pointed out the application 
 of these terms in his valuable work on the Muscular 
 Motions of the Human Body , and we shall occasionally 
 follow his example in the present article. 
 
 For a fuller account of the history of anatomy, w« 
 refer our readers to Le Clerc's " Histoire de la Medi- 
 cine ;" Hunter's Introductory Lectures ;" Haller's Bi- 
 bliotheea Anatomica ;" Portal's " Histoire d' .Inatomie et. 
 de C/iirurgie," and a German work on the history of 
 medicine, by Sprengel. 
 
 • Dr Barclay now employs the term peripheral in a more general sense, as including dermal, which latter he seldom uses. 
 
 4 Z 2
 
 732 
 
 ANAT03IY. 
 
 Paiit I. HUMAN ANATOMY. 
 
 Intkoduction. Of tht Cellular JMcinbranc. 
 
 The f(7/i(/iirmf;Hin/?!f, is generally tlistributcd through 
 thcboily, and invests almost every organ. As tliis part 
 of the body can scarcely be ranked willi any ot the neads, 
 under wliich wc have distributed tae otiier organs, we 
 treat ol" it here by way of introduction. 
 
 This membrane is composed oi filaments and laminas 
 that are interwoven, and cross each other in various di- 
 rections, leaving between ihcni spaces and cavities of 
 various sizes, that communicate to each otiier, and con- 
 tain within them a fatty matter or serous fluid. These 
 fibres are whitish and tolerably elastic. Tiie membrane 
 ■which they compose is so generally distributed, that 
 every muscle, nay every muscular fibre, is enveloped 
 by it. It surrounds every artery, vein, nerve, and ab- 
 sorbent, between which it furnishes both a connection 
 and separation. It also pertornis the office of a gland, 
 and the fatty and serous matters that exude from it, 
 serve to lubricate the parts between which it is inter- 
 posed, and thus facilitate the motion of every organ. 
 From the great quantity of fat which most parts of this 
 membrane contain, it must have considerable effect in 
 preserving the equal temperature of the body; and it 
 is probably for this purpose that it is so thickly spread 
 between the muscles, and round those organs which 
 might be most injured by the approach of cold. This 
 we find to be the case in those parts of the body where 
 the circulation is most languid, as in the fore part of 
 the belly. It also appears in many cases to serve as 
 nourishment to the system, when the usual supplies of 
 food are cut ofi', or when the body is prevented by dis- 
 ease, or other circumstances, from receiving nourish- 
 ment in the usual manner. Thus we find that those ani- 
 mals which remain iu a torpid state during the greater 
 part of winter, are very fat when they retire to their 
 caverns, but are extremely lean when they emerge 
 from them on the approach of warm weather; and we 
 observe that in those persons who have laboured under 
 fever, or any other complaint that has prevented them 
 from taking their ordinary nourishment, the fat of the 
 body is gradually absorbed. 
 
 The cellular membrane differs in some respects, ac- 
 cording to lis situation and uses. When it is situated 
 on the external part of organs, as in that which is placed 
 between the skin and muscles, it is cellular, abounds 
 with fat, and is generally very dense ; while in that 
 which surrounds the arteries, veins, &cc. there are nei- 
 ther lamince nor cells, but only a tissue of fibres, much 
 less dense, and commonly less elastic than the former. 
 
 No anatomist has treated so fully and accurately of 
 this membrane, as Bichat, (Sec his Anatomie Gencralc" 
 torn. 1.) and to him we must referour readers for a more 
 particular account of its structure. 
 
 As the cellular membrane is so universally distributed 
 throughout the body, accompanying every vessel and 
 every nerve, and mixing with every organ on which 
 these are ramified, there is reason to believe, that it 
 performs some general and important function, essential 
 to the health and action of every organ, though varied 
 and modified according to circumstances. From the 
 effect which a dropsical, or other diseased state of this 
 membrane has on the vessels and nerves of the adjoining 
 
 organs, it is likely that the action of these is influenced 
 by the cellular membrane ; and indeed the anatomy, 
 physiology, and pathology of tiiis membrane, will de- 
 serve a minute and careful investigation. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Of the Organs of Motion. 
 
 The organs of motion consist of the bones and mus- 
 cles, with their appendages the carliluffrs, tendons, li- 
 gaments, and mucous bags. The bones form the te-vers 
 ixml fulcra or /iro/is, and are rather passive in the func- 
 tion of animal motion ; while the muscles are the real 
 moving organs, which, when actuated by the principle 
 of life, produce all the perceptible changes in the solids, 
 and propel the fluids in their various directions. 
 
 Sect. I. Of the Bones, and their Ajifiendages. 
 
 The bones are the most solid parts of the animal ma- 
 chine ; they constitute the supports of all the other 
 parts ; they are the foundation of the whole body ; and, 
 by tlieir union, they form cavities for lodging in security 
 those important organs on which the principal functions 
 ol life depend. 
 
 The bones are variously shaped according to the parts 
 which they surround or support, or to the purposes 
 which they are designed to answer. Some are long and 
 nearly cylindrical, as those of the extremities ; others 
 long and crooked, as the ribs and collar-bones ; some 
 are flat, as the biade-bone and breast-bone ; some con- 
 vexo-concave, as the bones of the skull; others very ir- 
 regular, as the haunch-bones, and the bones of the face. 
 The long bones are usually hollow, and have their ex- 
 tremities considerably larger than the rest of the bone ; 
 while the fiat and irregular bones are furnished with 
 many protuberances, which, when they form one piece 
 with the body of the bone, are called apo/ihuses or pro- 
 cesses, but when less firmly united, are denominated 
 epiphyses. 
 
 These processes and epiphyses have received difTer- 
 ent names according to their form or supposed uses. 
 Thus wc have mastoid, coracoid, styloid, s/ii?iotis, /itcTy- 
 goid, and zygomatic processes, supposed to resemble a 
 nifiple, a crow's beak, a stylus, a s/iine, a iving, or a yoke. 
 When they arc smooth and spherical, they are called 
 heads ; when smooth and formed so as to move like 
 hinges on other bones, they arc termed condyles; when 
 roundish and rough, they are called tuberosities. 
 
 Most of the bones are perforated with holes, or provid- 
 ed with tubular canals for the passage of nerves or ves- 
 sels ; or they arc hollowed into furrows, grooves, chan- 
 nels, or other cavities for receiving the protuberances of 
 other bones, or for secvirely lodging soft parts. 
 
 When we examine the structure of the bones, we 
 find that their outer surface is very hard, consisting of 
 a solid plate or layer more or less thick. In the flat an4 
 convexo-concave bones, there is a similar plate on the 
 opposite surface, and these are called by anatomists the 
 two tables. Between these tables, or within the outer 
 layer in those bones that have not two, the bor.e is cellular 
 or spongy ; in the former case, this part is called difiloe ; 
 in the latter the cancclli. These cancelli are largest and
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 73; 
 
 most conspicuous in the extremities of the long boues, 
 and in the processes ol otlicrs. A pretty correct idea of 
 them niuy be lornied by iiibpecliiii^ Fig. 1 o; Plate XIII. 
 
 The bones are eoniposecl ot two very clillerent sul)- 
 stances ; one, an organized texture, consisting oi gehili- 
 nous fibres and vessels interwoven together into a very 
 complex net work ; the other, an inorganic mass, con- 
 Sisiing of particles of earthy salts, chieily /ihnx/Umtc, 
 carbonate, and sul/ihatc of Itiiu-, interspersed among the 
 organic iibres so as to give to the whole compounU mass 
 compactness, form, and solidity. These two parts are 
 in very difl'erenl proportions in bones of differenl ages ; 
 the gelatinous matter being more abundant in bones of 
 young animals, and gradually diminishing in propoition 
 as tlie animal grows older. Hence the bones of young 
 anunals are more soft and flexible, those of old more 
 solid and brittle. 
 
 In the Icetus the bones are entirely cartilaginous or 
 gristly, and, as the child advances in growth, earthy 
 matter is gradually deposited till the bone is completely 
 ossified. This ossijication seems to take place first in 
 the centre of the round and flat bones, see Plate XIII. 
 Fig. 2.) and in the middle part of the long bones, and 
 thence proceeds towards the circumference, or the ex- 
 tremities. 
 
 When a fresh bone is cut across with a saw, there 
 appears in the cut surface little red points, from which 
 blood oozes ; shewing that the bones are penetrated by 
 numerous blood vessels; and as the earthy matter is in 
 some cases of disease removed, it is clear that they have 
 absorbents. 
 
 Cariilage or gristle, by which the ends of the bones 
 Ere tipped, is of a bluish white colour, and of a softer 
 consistence than bone ; it is very elastic, and appears 
 to be rather of an albuminous than a gelatinous nature. 
 Between some of the bones there is interposed a sub- 
 stance partly cartilaginous and partly ligamentous; this 
 is the case with the vertebrae, or joints of the spine. 
 Beside the cartilages that are intimately attached to the 
 bones, there are in the body a few that are loose or in- 
 dependent, but they resemble the former in substance 
 and consistence. Cartilages are probably supplied with 
 blood vessels, though we cannot trace them beyond the 
 surface. 
 
 The bones are covered externally with a pretty firm, 
 vascular, fibrous membrane, called periosteum., which 
 envelopes them every where, except where they are 
 tipped with cartilage, and connects them with the mus- 
 cles and vessels. The membrane that covers the bones 
 of the skull, though of the same nature as the perios- 
 teum of other bones, is, however, called fiericranium. 
 In the foetus, and in young children, this membrane is 
 but loosely connected with the bones, but in more ad- 
 vanced age, the union becomes much closer, and in old 
 age, when it grows very thin and dense, adheres to the 
 bones with great force. Besides assisting as a conve- 
 nient medium for the intersection of muscles, and the 
 passage of vessels to and from the bones, the Jicriosteum, 
 by its lubricity, facilitates the motions of the soft parts, 
 while, by the firmness of its texture, itd'ftnds the bones 
 from external injury; for it is found, that wlien this 
 membrane has been abraded, the outer surface of the 
 bone thus laid bare eifijlia'es-, or peels off". 
 
 Tliose cartilages whicii do not form the articulating 
 surfaces of the bones, as tli^ise of the wincl-pipe and the 
 ribs, are also covered with a membrane nearly resem- 
 
 bling the iuriohteum, except that it appears to be less 
 vascular. It is called /urichondrium. 
 
 Tlie internal cavities of the hollow and cancellated 
 bones are lined with a line, soft, fatty membrane, which 
 is generally divided into cells, containing that peculiar 
 fatly substance which we call marrovj. For an account 
 of the nature and properties of this fat, considered as 
 an animal production, we nmst refer to Chemistry. 
 We shall only remark here, that in the fuetal and inlant 
 state tfie marrow is rather a bloody serum, than an oil, 
 and that it becomes more fatty, and more consistent, as 
 the body advances towards maturity. The principal 
 use of this oily matter seems to be to prevent the too 
 great dryness and conseciucnt brilllenss of the bones. 
 
 The whole assemblage of bones, with their cartilages, 
 investing membranes, ligaments, and mucous bags (to 
 be mentioned presently) constitute vvhat is called the 
 natHnil nkcleioti, so called to distinguish it from that as- 
 semblage which is formed of the separated bones, con- 
 nected by wires, and denominated an anificial aketrton. 
 This is represented in Plate XIII. Fig. 5. 4; and it is 
 proper that we should make a few general remarks on 
 it before we proceed to the individual bones of which it 
 is composed. ^ 
 
 The skeleton is generally divided into Head, Trun'k, 
 and Extremities. 
 
 The Head is sub-divided into the cmnium and face. 
 
 The cranium is composed of eight bones; \\z. frontal, 
 two parietal, occifiital, two temporal, .ipUcnoid, and eth- 
 jnoid bones. 
 
 The face is composed of fourteen bones, besides 
 thirty-two teeth, namely, two nasal, two ungual, two 
 malar or cheek bones, two superior maxillary or upper 
 jam bones, two palate bones, two infrior spongy bones, 
 the -jomcr, and inferior mai illary or loiver jaw bones. If 
 to these be added the hi/oidal bone belonging to the 
 tongue, and four minute bones in each ear, the head may 
 be said to contain sixty-three bones. 
 
 The Trunk is made up of the vertebral column ; the 
 sternum, the ribs, and the ossa innominata, or nameless 
 bones. 
 
 The vertebral column is composed of twenty-six pieces, 
 viz. seven cervical vertebrae, or Jieck joints, twelve dor- 
 sal vertebra or back joints, five lumbar vertebra or loin 
 joints, the sacrum, and the coccyx. 
 
 The sternum or breast-bone, generally consists of three 
 pieces, though described as one. 
 
 There are twenty-four ribs, viz. twelve on each side, 
 and of tliese the seven on each side that are next the 
 head are called true ribs, and the other five fahe ribs. 
 
 The ossa iiinomJiiata are placed on the sides and front 
 of the pelvis. Tiiey are properly but two bones, though 
 each is subdivided into three parts, called ossa ilii or 
 haunch bones, ossa ischii or hip bones, and ossa pubis 
 or share bones. Hence tlie trunk may be said to consist 
 of fifty-three or fifty-nine bones. 
 
 The Extremities are either a/ Ian tal (viz. those next 
 the atlas or first cervical vertebra) or sacral {i. e. tliose 
 next the sacrum.) 
 
 The attantal extremities are composed each of thirty- 
 two bones; viz. the collar bones, blade bones, os humeri 
 or shoulder bone, radius, ulna, eight bones of the car- 
 pus or wrist, called navicular, lunar, cunrform, fusi- 
 form, trafiezium, trapezoid, os magmim, and uncform ; 
 five bones of the metacarpus or palm of tln^ hand, twelve 
 bones of the fingers, and two of the thumb.
 
 734 
 
 ANATOIMY. 
 
 The .lacral extremities consist each of thirty bones, viz. 
 Ilic osft-moris or thigh bone ,• tibia ; Jlbuia ; rotulu, Jta- 
 tfl/a or knee pan ; si;\ en bones of the tarsus, called «*■- 
 tragalus, cs calcis or heel bone, navicular, cuboid, and 
 three cuneiform ; five bones of the mttatarsus or body 
 of the fool, and fourteen of the toes. 
 
 Hence the atlantal extremities contain sixty-four, and 
 the sacral sixty bones ; and the whole skeleton is made 
 up of about 24j bones. 
 
 Of these bones, those of the pelvis, as the ussa inno- 
 minata and sacrum, form as it were the basis of all the 
 rest ; and, though not exactly the centre of gra-uity of 
 the skeleton, may be considered as its centre of motion, 
 as on these the whole body moves. On the pelvis the 
 spine rises like an irregular column surmounted by the 
 head. This column is by some described as formed of 
 two cones united by their basis ; one being formed of 
 the cervical and dorsal -vertebrx, the other by the coccyx 
 sacrum, and lumbar vertebrae. The whole column has 
 several flexures ; bending forward a little at the neck, 
 considerably backward from thence to the last dorsal 
 vertebra where it again takes a turn forward, is once 
 more bent back in the sacrum, and lastly ends in the 
 coccyx which forms a point projecting forwards. The 
 flexures backwards contribute to support the contents 
 of the thorax, abdomen, and pelvis, while the projec- 
 tions forwards serve to keep up the balance of the whole, 
 and regulate the centre of gravity. 
 
 We may observe, that though the pelvis is usually 
 ranked as a part of the trunk; it may also be considered 
 as belonging to the sacral extremities ; bearing the same 
 relation to them that the scaftuiu bears to the allantal 
 extremities. 
 
 Tlie figures represented in Plate XIII. Fig. 3, 4. arc 
 those of an adult or full grown skeleton. That of a foetus, 
 or a young child, differs in many particulars ; as, 1st, all 
 the bones consist of a greater number of pieces, the 
 principal future processes not being yet united ; 2dly, 
 the skull is nmch larger in proportion, and the face 
 smaller; 3dly, the vertebral column is straighter, and 
 its prominences much fewer and less evident. See j^lbi- 
 nus de Ossibus Fdtus, and Chcsaelden's jinatomy ; tab. I. 
 In the skeleton of a very old person, on the other hand, 
 the prominences are more conspicuous, and the verte- 
 bral column is generally bent much more forward. 
 
 There are also some difl'crences deserving notice, be- 
 tween the skeleton of a maii and of a woman. — The whole 
 female skeleton is generally smaller than a male of the 
 same age ; the head, hands, and feet are proportionally 
 smaller ; the neck longer ; the sacral extremities short- 
 er; the pelvis wider and deeper; and the prominences 
 of the bones are usually less remarkable. See Morcau's 
 Histoire A'aturetle de la Femme. 
 
 We shall now give a tabular view of the bones that 
 compose the skeleton, and shall then enter on a more 
 particular examination of its principal divisions. 
 
 TABLE OF THE BONES. 
 
 J^ames. 
 
 1. Frontal or coronal 
 bone. 
 
 Os frontis vel fron- 
 tale. Plate XIII. 
 Fig. 3. No. 1. 
 
 2. Parietal bones. 
 Ossa fiarietalia, vel 
 
 Bregmatis. Fig. 3, 
 and 4. No. 2. 
 
 3. Temporal bones. 
 Ossa temporum. Fig. 
 
 3, and 4. No. 3. 
 
 4. Occipital bone. 
 Os occi/iitis. Fig. 4. 
 No. 10. 
 
 5. Sphenoid bone. 
 Os sp/ie7ioidcs, vel cu- 
 neiforme. 
 
 6. Ethmoid bone. 
 Os ethmoides vel cri- 
 briforme. 
 
 Situation and connec- 
 tion. 
 
 In the glabellar or 
 fore part of the 
 skull, connected 
 with 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 
 8, 9. 
 
 Upper part and sides 
 of the skull, 1,2, 3, 
 4. 
 
 Lower and lateral 
 parts of the skull, 
 1,2,4. 
 
 Back and lower parts 
 of the skull, 2, 3, 5. 
 
 Base of the skull, be- 
 tween 1 and 4. 1, 
 2, 3, 4, 6, 7. 
 
 At the back of the 
 nose, 1 , 7. 
 
 Processes. 
 
 Externally, nasal, 
 four orbitar, two 
 superciliary rid- 
 ges ; internally, 
 spinous, two orbi- 
 tar plates. 
 
 Four angular proces- 
 ses. 
 
 Squamous and pe- 
 trous. Zygomatic, 
 mastoid, styloid, 
 and between these 
 the circular ridge 
 round the opening 
 of the ear. 
 
 Transverse ridge ; 
 crucial ridges, cu- 
 neiform process ; 
 two condyles. 
 
 Body and wings. Na- 
 sal spine ; orbital, 
 temporal, spinous ; 
 four pterygoid pro- 
 cesses. 
 
 Nasal plate ; crista 
 galli; spongy parts: 
 plane orbital sur- 
 faces. 
 
 Holes and Cavities. 
 
 Superciliary hole or 
 notch. Frontal si- 
 nuses. 
 
 A hole near the /ron- 
 to-temfioral angle. 
 
 Stylo-mastoid, caro- 
 tid and Eustachian 
 holes. External 
 passage to the ear, 
 jugular fossa and 
 articulating cavity. 
 
 Great medullary 
 holes ; two holes 
 near each condyle. 
 Four internal fos- 
 sae. 
 
 Two optic holes, two 
 fissures, six ner- 
 vous, and two arte- 
 rial holes. Two la- 
 teral fossae and the 
 pituitary fossa. 
 
 Innumerable cells. 
 
 General Uses. 
 
 Protects the glabellar 
 part of the brain, 
 and forms the up- 
 per part of the or- 
 bits or eye-sockets. 
 
 Protects the upper 
 and lateral parts of 
 the bi-ain. 
 
 Chiefly to contain the 
 organ of hearing. 
 
 Protects the cerebel- 
 lum and base of the 
 brain, and forms the 
 centre of motion for 
 the head. 
 
 Lodges the pituitary 
 gland, and gives 
 passage to the 
 nerves of the eye. 
 
 Forms a great part of 
 the organ of smell- 
 ing.
 
 7. Nasal bones. 
 Ossa nasi. 
 
 8. Ungual bones. 
 Oasa unguis. 
 
 9. Cheek bones. 
 Oasa matarum. Plate 
 
 XIII. Fig. 3, No. 
 11, 12. 
 
 10. Upper jaw bones. 
 Ossa maxillaria sufie- 
 
 riora. Fig. 3, No. 
 10. 
 
 11. Palate bones. 
 
 Ossa lialati. 
 
 12. Inferior spongy 
 bones. 
 
 Ossa sfiongiosa infe- 
 riora. 
 
 13. Vom:r. 
 
 14. Lower jaw bone. 
 
 Os maxillare inferius. 
 
 Fig. 3. No. r, 8,9, 
 
 and Fig. 4. No. 9, 
 
 II. 
 
 8 inci-" 
 sive, 4 
 canine 
 or cus- 
 
 Situaiion and connec' 
 
 lion. 
 At the top of the 
 
 nose, 1, 5, 6, 7, 10. 
 Within the orbits 
 
 next the nose, i, 6, 
 
 7, 10. 
 Below the eyes, 1, 3, 
 
 5, 10. 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 Proceaaeg. 
 
 Orbital, sphenoidal, 
 zygomatic proces- 
 
 On each side of, and Nasal, orbital, malar, 
 below the nose, 7, alveolar, proces- 
 8, 9, 10, 1 1. ses; palatal plates. 
 
 Back part of the pa- 
 late and nose, 5, 6, 
 10, 11, 13. 
 
 Upper part of the 
 nostrils, 6, 8, 10. 
 
 Back of the nostrils, 
 5, 6, 10, 11. 
 
 Lower part of the 
 face or chin, 3. 
 
 15. Teeth, 
 
 pida- 
 >ted, 
 8 bicu- 
 pida- 
 ted, 
 
 1 2 grin- 
 ders. 
 
 1 6. First vertebra of 
 the neck. 
 
 villas. Fig. 4. No. 9. 
 
 17. Second cervical 
 vertebra. 
 
 Vertebra dentata. 
 
 18. The other five 
 cervical vertebrae. 
 
 19. Twelve dorsal 
 vertebrae. 
 
 20. Five lumbar ver- 
 tebrje. Fig. 3. No. 
 16. 
 
 Between 4 and 17. 
 
 Below 16. 
 
 Between the last of 
 18, and first of 20, 
 24, and 25. 
 
 Between the last of 
 19 and 21. 
 
 Palatal, nasal, and or- 
 bital processes. 
 
 Nasal plate. 
 
 Two branches, cora- 
 coid and coronoid 
 processes, alveolar 
 edge. 
 
 One edge or point, 
 and one fang. 
 
 Two points and two 
 
 fangs. 
 Four or five points 
 
 and two or three 
 
 fangs. 
 Two transverse, two 
 
 articulating, two 
 
 inferior oblique. 
 
 Holes and Cavitin. 
 
 Lachrymal duct. 
 
 Infra-orbital hole. 
 
 Incisive hole, lachry- 
 mal channels, an- 
 trum of Highmore. 
 
 Palatal groove. 
 
 A long canal open-" 
 ing near each joint, 
 and on each side of 
 the chin. 
 
 735 
 
 General Uses. 
 
 Form the solid part 
 
 of the nose. 
 Affords a passage for 
 
 the tears into the 
 
 nose. 
 Support the cheeks. 
 
 Contain the sockets of 
 the upper teeth, 
 form the principal 
 part of the palate, 
 and extend the or- 
 gans of smelling. 
 
 Serve to extend the 
 organ of smelling. 
 
 Forms the greater 
 part of the parti- 
 
 tion of 
 trils. 
 
 t])C 
 
 nos- 
 
 Two transverse, four 
 oblique, a cleft spi- 
 nous and a tooth- 
 like process. 
 
 Ditto, except the 
 tooth-like process. 
 
 Two transverse and 
 four oblique pro- 
 cesses, and a large 
 pointed spinous 
 process. 
 
 Transverse and ob- Ditto, 
 lique processes as 
 in 19. Spinous pro- 
 cess blunu 
 
 General hole for the' 
 spinal marrow and 
 two lateral holes. 
 Two articulating 
 cavities. 
 
 Holes as in 16. 
 
 The principal organs 
 for chewing food. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 General central hole, 
 but no lateral holes. 
 
 Articulating with No. 
 4, performs nod- 
 ding motion of the 
 head. 
 
 Serves as the chief 
 centre of the rota- 
 tory motion of the 
 head. 
 
 Gives a power of mo- 
 tion to the trunk 
 and support to the 
 ribs. 
 
 Gives a power of mo- 
 tion to the loins.
 
 736 
 
 Mi7ne&. 
 
 21. Sacrum. Fig- 3. 
 No. 17. I'ig. 4.1^0. 
 15. 
 
 22. Coccyx. 
 Os coccygis. 
 
 23. Osna innomina-' 
 Ca, including the 
 haunch bone, 
 
 Ossa Ilii. Fig. 3. No. 
 
 18. Fig. 4. No. 17. 
 The hip-bone. 
 
 Os Isc/iii. Fig. 3. No. 
 20. Fig. 4. No. 
 
 19. and the Share 
 bone, 
 
 Os pubis. Fig. 3. 
 No. 19. 
 
 24. Seven true ribs. 
 Fig. 3. No. 14, to 
 15. Fig. 4. No. 21, 
 to 22. 
 
 25. Five false ribs. 
 Fig. 3. No. 15. 
 Fig. 4. No. 22. 
 
 26. Breast bone. 
 
 Sternum. 
 
 Situation and Connec- 
 tion. 
 Between 20 and 22, 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 Processes. 
 
 Dornad, 3 spinous 
 processes. 
 
 lioUa and Cavities. 
 
 Triangular cavity for 
 the sacral extremi- 
 ty of the spinal mar- 
 row, and five pairs 
 of holes. 
 
 Attached to the point 
 of 31. 
 
 Connected with No. 
 
 21 by the ilia, with 
 23 by the pubes, 
 and with 45 by the 
 
 acetabulum. 
 
 IHen spine with two Sciatic notch and thy- 
 
 tuberosities ; ischi- roid hole. Articu- 
 
 en tuberosity ; /iu- lating cavity, or 
 
 ben arch. acetabulum. 
 
 Between 19 and 26. Head and tuberosity. Groove for artery. 
 
 Connected with 19 by 
 their vertebral ex- 
 tremities and with 
 the 7lh of 24 by 
 cartilage. 
 
 Front of the chest, 24 
 and 27. 
 
 General Uses. 
 
 Supports the verte- 
 bral column, and 
 No. 23, and with 
 the vertebrae, 
 
 forms the cavity for 
 the spinal marrow. 
 
 Supports the rectum 
 
 With No. 21. form 
 the pelvis, for lodg- 
 ing the urinary and 
 reproductive or- 
 gans. 
 
 Protect the lungs. 
 Sec. and by rising, 
 or falling, admit 
 the expansion or 
 contraction of the 
 chest. 
 
 Ensiform cartilage. 
 
 Sixteen articulating 
 cavities for 24 and 
 27. 
 
 27. Clavicle or collar Between 26 and 28. 
 bone. Fig. 3. No. 
 
 21. 
 
 28. Blade bone. Next the ribs at each 
 Scafiula. Fig. 4. No. shoulder, 27 and 
 
 25. 29. 
 
 29. Shoulder bone. 
 Os humeri. Fig. 3. 
 
 No. 25. Fig. 4. 
 No. 28. 
 
 30. Ulna. Fig. 3. 
 No. 33. Fig. 4. 
 No. 31. 
 
 51. Radius. Fig. 3. 
 No. 31. Fig. 4. 
 No. 32. 
 
 32. Navicular bone 
 of the wrist. 
 
 Os naviculare. Fig. 3. 
 No. 5. 
 
 33. Lunar bone. 
 
 0» lunare. Fig. 3. 
 No. 6. 
 
 34. Cuneiform bone. 
 Os cuneiforme. Fig. 
 
 3. No. 7. 
 
 Between the shoul- 
 der and fore arm, 
 28,30,31. 
 
 Between 28 and 29, 
 31. 
 
 Between 28 and 29, 
 
 30. 
 
 Radiad, between the 
 distal end of 31, 
 and 39, 31, 33, 37, 
 38, 39. 
 
 Between 32 and 34. 
 
 32, 54, 36, 37. 
 
 Between 33 and 35. 
 
 33, 35, 36. 
 
 Three costs; dorsal 
 spine ; acromion, 
 coracoid, and hume- 
 ren processes. 
 
 Proximal head with 
 two tubercles be- 
 low. Distal con- 
 dyles. 
 
 Anconen process (or 
 olecranon), coro- 
 noid process, and 
 distal head and sty- 
 loid process. Ra- 
 dial ridge. 
 
 Proximal head. Ul- 
 nar ridge. 
 
 Two fossae, and gle- 
 noid cavity. 
 
 Proximal groove, dis- 
 tal articulating ca- 
 vities. Artery hole. 
 
 Proximad, two sig- 
 moid fossae ; distad, 
 articulating cavity. 
 
 Protects the contents 
 of the chest, and 
 connects the ribs. 
 
 Regulates the mo- 
 tions of 28. 
 
 Forms the centre of 
 motion to the 
 shoulder joint, and 
 gives attachment 
 to many powerful 
 muscles. 
 
 Forms the strongest 
 part of the arm, 
 and serves for 
 the attachment of 
 strong muscles. 
 
 Fontis with the hume- 
 rus the elbow joint. 
 
 Articulating cavities. Favours the rotatory 
 both /iroximad and motions of the 
 distad. hand. 
 
 Scaphoid cavity. "* 
 
 ^Give flexibility to the 
 wrist.
 
 J^'ames. 
 
 55. Pisiform bone. 
 Os Pisiffjrme. Fig. 3. 
 
 No. 8. 
 36. Unciform bone. 
 
 Fig. 3. No. 4. 
 o7. Large bone of 
 
 the wrist. 
 Os magnum. 
 
 Fig. 3. No. -t. 
 
 38. Trapezoid. 
 Fig. 3. No. 3. 
 
 39. Trapezium. 
 Figf. 3, No. I. 
 
 40. Metacarpal bones 
 of the thumb and 
 fingers. 
 
 Fig. 4. a, a. 
 
 4 1 . Proximal phalan- 
 ges of the thumb 
 and fingers. 
 
 Fig. 4. b, b. 
 
 42. Middle phalan- 
 ges of the fingers. 
 
 Fig. 4. c. 
 
 43. Distal phalanges 
 of the thumb and 
 fingers. 
 
 Fig. 4. rf, c. 
 
 44. Thigh-bone. 
 
 Os femoris. 
 Fig. 3. No. 63. Fig. 
 4. No. 64. 
 
 45. Tibia. 
 
 rig. 3. No. 69. Fig. 
 A,. No. 70. 
 
 46. Fibula. 
 
 Fig. 3, and 4. No. 
 74. 
 
 47. Knee-pan. 
 Rotula, or Patella. 
 
 Fig. 3. No. 68. 
 
 48. Astragalus. 
 Fig. 6. No. 77. 
 
 49. Heel bone. 
 
 Os calcis. 
 Fig. 6. No. 78. 
 
 50. Navicular bone 
 of the foot. 
 
 Fig. 6. No. 79. 
 
 51. Os cuboides. 
 Fig. 6. No. 83. 
 
 52. 53, 54. Three 
 cuneiform bones- 
 
 Ossa cuneiformia. 
 Fig. 6. No. 80, 81,82. 
 
 55. Metatarsal bones. 
 Fig. 6. No. 84. to 88. 
 
 56. Proximal phalan- 
 ges of the toes. 
 Fig. 6. No. 89. to 
 
 93. 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 Situation arid comtcc- 
 
 tion. 
 Ulnad, between 30 
 and 36. 
 
 Ulnad, next 35. 
 
 Between 36 and 38. 
 
 Between 37 and 39. 
 
 Radiad, between 32 
 and the root of the 
 thumb. 
 
 Between 36, 37, 38, 
 39, and 41. 
 
 ANAT03I\. 
 
 Prnrcsses. 
 
 737 
 
 //o/ci and C'avidci. General Vt 
 
 sf* 
 
 Give flexibility to the 
 ^ wrist. 
 
 Between 41 and 43 
 
 Join 42. 
 
 Connected with 23, 
 45, 46, and 47. 
 
 Tibiad, connected 
 with 44, 46, 47, 
 and 48. 
 
 Fibulad ; connected 
 with 45, and 48. 
 
 Connected with 44, 
 and 48, by tendons. 
 
 At the instep ; 45, 46, 
 
 49, 50. 
 At the heel; 48, 51. 
 
 Connected with 48, 
 
 51, 52, 53, 54. 
 
 Fibulad ; connected 
 
 with 49, 50, 52. 
 Between 50 and 55. 
 
 Between 51, 52, 53, 
 
 54, and 56. 
 Between 55 and 67. 
 
 Ariiculatuig heads. 
 proximal and rf/,9- 
 tad. 
 
 -^ Form the palm of the 
 hand. 
 
 Between 40 and 42. Ditto. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 A firoximal articula- 
 ting head. 
 
 Proximad, a head, a 
 larger and smaller 
 trochanter ; dislad 
 2 condyles. 
 
 Ankle prominence 
 tibiad ; ridge fibu- 
 lar. 
 
 Proximal head ; dis- 
 tad and^bulad, an- 
 kle protuberance. 
 
 Heel process. 
 
 Proximal and distal 
 articulating heads. 
 Ditto. 
 
 Support the nail^; 
 
 Condyloid cavity, ar- 
 tery hole. 
 
 Articulating cavities, 
 Jiroximad and dis- 
 tad y arterv hole. 
 
 Strengthens 45. 
 
 Serves as a pulley to 
 facilitate the action 
 of the knee-joint 
 muscles. 
 
 Forms the principal 
 lever for the action 
 of the muscles of 
 the leg. 
 
 Facilitate the motions 
 '^ of the foot. 
 
 5 A
 
 V38 
 
 Mimes. Situation and connec- 
 
 tion. 
 57. Middle phalan- Between 56 and 58. 
 ges of the toes. 
 38. Distal phalanges Join 57. 
 
 of the toes. 
 .59. Sesamoid bones. Frequently found in 
 Ossa sesamoidea. adult subjects at 
 
 the joints. 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 Processes. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Proximal articulating 
 head. 
 
 Holes and Cavities. General Uses. 
 
 Support the nails. 
 
 Seem to facilitate 
 motion. 
 
 60. Os hyoides. 
 
 Appendix. 
 
 Ossa triquetra 
 'Mormiana, 
 
 At the root of 
 tongue. 
 
 the 
 
 Most frequently be- 
 tween the occi/ii- 
 lal and parietal 
 bones. 
 
 To suppply <leficien- 
 cies in the ossifi- 
 cation. 
 
 These bones are joined together in many different ways, constituting so many articulations. The following Ta- 
 ble will give » general idea of the articulations of the iiuman body : 
 
 Table of Articulations in the Skeleton. 
 
 1. Synarthrosis. 
 Immoveable Articu-< 
 lation ; divisible into 
 
 1. Serrated suture, in which the ederes of each? 
 bone are indented into each other ; J 
 
 2. Harmonic Suture, when the edges merely > 
 touch each other ; 5 
 
 3. Squamous suture, when the edge of one bone / 
 lies over that of another ; f 
 
 4. Gomfihosis, in which one bone is inserted into 
 another, like a nail in wood ; 
 
 5 th 
 
 jaw 
 
 I 
 
 e frontal, parietal, occipital, 
 and cheek bones. 
 
 the nas'il boues, upper 
 bonea, &c. 
 
 the squamous part of the 
 temporal bone over the pa- 
 rietal. 
 
 as in \ the teeth. 
 
 as in 
 
 II. Amphi.\rthro 
 
 SIS. "^ 
 
 Partly moveable ; di- 
 visible into 
 
 4. 
 
 Synchondrosis, where the bones are united by 
 cartilage ; 
 
 Where the bones are united by a ligamento- 
 cartilaginous elastic substance ; 
 
 Symles7)iosis where the bones are not strictly 1 
 united, but are bound together by ligaments, ^as in 
 and are attached chiefly by flat surfaces ; J 
 
 Syssarcosis, where the bones are joined ? 
 through the medium of muscles. 5 
 
 1 
 
 I the bones of the pelvis, especial- 
 ' ly the jiubes. 
 
 \ the vertebrx. 
 
 The bones of the wrist (car/iMa,) 
 and instep, [tarsus^ 
 
 The scajiula with the ribs. 
 
 III. DiARTHROSIS. < 
 
 Completely movea- 
 ble ; divisible into 
 
 1. Ginglymus, or hinge-joint, admitting only of 
 motion backwards and forwards ; 
 
 2. Rotatory, where one bone so moves within 1 
 another, as only to turn round as on a pi- >as m 
 vot; J 
 
 3. Composed of these two, as in the fore-arm, the lower jaw-bone, &c 
 
 4. Arthrodia, and Enarthrosis admitting of mo- ? • 5 ^^ shoulder, hip 
 tion in all directions ; 5 t joints. 
 
 as m < 
 • as in< 
 
 the elbow, knee, fingers, toes, 
 occiput, and atlas, &c. 
 
 the union of the atlas and se- 
 cond cervical vertebra. 
 
 and thumb- 
 
 The articulations are chiefly secured by means of 
 strong fibrous membranes, called Ligaments, which ex- 
 tend fi-om bone to bone, and preserve each in its proper 
 situation while they admit of that due degree of motion 
 ■which the joint is intended to perform. 
 
 Bichat divides the ligamants into two orders, viz. 
 those that have the fibres arranged in regular bundles, 
 and those in which the fibres assume no regular or deter- 
 minate figure. The former are the more general, and 
 are those which are attached to almost all the moveable 
 articulations. To these, therefore, we shall here chiefly 
 confine ourselves. These ligaments are either flat, 
 which is their most usual form, or they are collected into 
 
 cylindrical bodies like cords. The former are attached 
 to the sides of the articulations, and are called lateral 
 ligaments. The latter sometimes proceed from the 
 head of a bone, and are fixed within the cavity into 
 which that is received ; and these are called round, or 
 sometimes central ligaments. There is a remarkable 
 ligament of this kind in the hip-joint, to be presently 
 described. A third kind performs a very important of- 
 fice. This entirely surrounds the joint, like a bag, being 
 firmly attached, at both extremities, to the bones that 
 compose the joint, often inclosing the other ligaments, 
 and preventing the escape of that lubricating fluid 
 which is poured into the cavity, to promote the motion
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 739 
 
 of the bones. Those are called cafwdar ligaments, and 
 are remarkable in the articulations of ilic hip and shoul- 
 der. 
 
 Sometimes two ligaments cross each other, at the 
 side of a joint; they are then called crucial ligaments. 
 
 The extremities of all those ligaments which do 
 not pass from the centre of the head of a bone to the 
 articulating cavity, are so closely attached to the /jmo,?- 
 teum of the bones, as scarcely to admit of a separation. 
 In children, both ligaments and periosteum are easily 
 separatad from the bones by maceration ; but, in advan- 
 ced age, the central fibres of both partake so mucli of 
 the nature of the bones to which they are attached, that 
 they can seldom be entirely separated. 
 
 There is no doubt that ligaments are furnished with 
 blood-vessels, but no nerves are to be discovered.* 
 
 Beside sti-engthening the articulations, ligaments are 
 of great utility in affording attachment to muscles. A 
 very broad ligament, for this purpose, runs between the 
 radius and ulna ; and a similar one between the tibia and 
 fibula; and many others are seen about the fielvis. 
 
 Within the articulations there are situated certain 
 hollow bags, containing die synovia., or that lubricating 
 fluid we have mentioned as facilitating the motions of 
 bones on each other. These have been called mucous 
 bags {bursx mucosa). The structure of these bags very 
 nearly resembles that of the membranes that line the in- 
 ternal cavities of the body, and which Bichat calls serous 
 ixiembranes.f They are perfectly close, and are per- 
 petually exhaling and reabsorbing the synoviia. They 
 line the cavities of the capsular ligaments, and invest 
 the inner surface of the latteral and crucial ligaments. 
 Where the proper fibrous capsular ligament is wanting, 
 as in the knc'c, the elbow, and the joints of the fingers and 
 toes, the synovial membranes supply its place. These 
 membranes are cellular, elastic, and dilatable, and are 
 supplied with vessels, lymphatics, and probably with 
 nerves. Tliey appear to contribute nothing towards 
 strengthening the joints, but seem to be intended solely 
 for the exhalation of synovia.^ 
 
 The fluid, thus exhaled, is whitish, nearly transparent, 
 glairy like the white of egg, and of a saline taste. Its 
 chemical properties will be detailed in a future part of 
 this work. 
 
 We have now taken a general view of the several 
 bones composing the human skeleton, with their mutual 
 connections and articulations ; we shall return to the 
 skeleton, and consider a little more at length, the struc- 
 ture of the skull, and that of two of the most important 
 urticulations. 
 
 The skull in the ftetus is composed of a greater num- 
 ber of pieces than in the adult ; but these pieces are not 
 fully formed, and are at a considerable distance from 
 each other at their edges. This imperfect conformation 
 is of great advantage during parturition, as it allows 
 the pieces to lap over each other, and thus dimin- 
 ishes the bulk of the head. As the head increases in 
 size, the bones acquire their full form and consistence, 
 and are united together by that particular junction ca.\- 
 led suture, (See the Table of Articulutioiis. There arc 
 three principal structures in the skull : the coronal, be- 
 
 tween the frontal and the fmrictal bones ; the sagittal, 
 between tlic two /tarictal bones ; and tlie lambdoiclal, be- 
 tween these last and the occi/tital bone. The upper 
 part of the skull is pretty smooth and uniform, compo- 
 sing a solid bony arch, very strong, and ol considerable 
 thickness. Tiie under, or what Dr Barclay calls the 
 basilar side of the skull, has a great many prominences, 
 holes, and cavities, for the attachments of muscles, and 
 the transmission of vessels and nerves to and from the 
 braui. The principal of these have been enumerated 
 in the Table of Bones. 
 
 The natural form of the skull is nearly the same in 
 most individuals of the same species or variety ; but it 
 differs considerably in the several varieties of man. 
 These differences chiefly respect the greater or less 
 prominence, or convexity, of the frontal bone, and the 
 greater or less projection of the jaws. It is well known, 
 that the forehead of a negro is flatter, and falls back more 
 suddenly, and that his mouth is more prominent, than 
 in a European ; and similar varieties occur in other races. 
 
 If we suppose a line drawn horizontally, from the mid- 
 dle of the external entrance of the ear to the edge of the 
 nostrils, and another line from this latter point to the 
 superciliary ridge of thi: from at hone; these two lines 
 will form an angle, which will afford a tolerably accurate 
 mark of distinction between the skulls of different va- 
 rieties of man, and between those of the inferior animals 
 compared with man. The inclining line has been cal- 
 led ihe facial line, and the angle formed by it with the 
 horizontal line, the /ac;a/a«^/e. These have been em- 
 ployed by Camper, Blumenbach, Cuvier, &c. to mark 
 the above-mentioned distinctions among different men, 
 and diff'erent animals ; and thougi; tiiey are liable to 
 vary under certain circumstances, they merit the atten- 
 tion of the painter and the statuary. Indeed, if the 
 suggestions of modern physiologists be correct, viz. that 
 the superior intellect corresponds witli the magnitude 
 of ihc facial angle, the subject is deservine: the attention 
 of the philosopher and the physiognomist.^*) We shall 
 here subjoin a Table, shewing the gradual decrease of 
 ihe facial angle, from the head of the ancient Greek sta- 
 tues, in which it is represented of the greatest magni- 
 tude to the head of a horse, in which it is very small : 
 
 Antique Grecian statue 
 Roman ditto 
 European infant - 
 European adult - 
 European aged - 
 Asiatic ... 
 
 American savage 
 Adult negro 
 Golok 
 
 100" 
 
 95 
 
 90 
 
 85 
 
 75 
 
 75 
 
 73| 
 
 70 
 
 65 
 
 (*) The measures of the facial angle in the subjoined 
 table by Cuvier, were derived from a horizontal line, 
 drawn parallel to the floor of the nostrils, and met by a 
 faci .1 line drawn between the anterior margin of the 
 alveoli of the corronal or upper jaw, and the projecting 
 convexity of the skull. 
 
 • Bichat, .inatomie Gemrale, Tom. 111. p. 208. 
 
 ■|- For an account of P.icbai's physiological ;irrangement of the several organs, and of liis general classLficition of the systems that 
 compose the human body, See Btchat 
 i Bichat, Anatomic Gen'erale, Tom. IV. p. 537. 
 
 5 A 2
 
 740 
 
 AJS ATOMY. 
 
 Oiaii olau - 
 
 Talapoiii monkey 
 
 Mastiff-clog 
 
 Hyaena 
 
 Pug-dog 
 
 Pole cat 
 
 Hare - 
 
 Sheep 
 
 Babiroussa 
 
 Horse 
 
 Ironi 58 to 65 
 
 57 
 
 about 41 
 
 about 33 
 
 35 
 
 34 
 
 30 
 
 about 30 
 
 29 
 
 23 
 
 On this subject we refer our i-eaders to an essay by 
 Camper, On the difference of the Feafurcs ; published 
 in the late Paris edition of his works ; to Blumenbach, 
 lie Generis Humani -rarietate nativa ; Cuvier, Lemons 
 d'.'lnutoniie Coin/mree, torn. ii. White On the Gradation 
 of Man, inc. Barclay's Analomieal JVomcnclatiire ; and 
 Lawrence's translation of Bhimenbach's Comjiaraiive 
 Anatomy. 
 
 The shoulder joint being one of those which admits 
 of very extensive motion, is less complex in its structure 
 than either the hip or the knee-joint. The head of the 
 humerun forms with the glenoid cavity of the sca/m/a, a 
 true ball and socket. The glenoid cavity in the dried 
 bone is extremely superficial, but in the recent subject 
 it is enlarged at the brim by a cartilaginous margin ; 
 and both the inside of the cavity, and the head of the 
 liumcrus, are covered with cartilage, as in all other move- 
 able articulations. The cartilage that covers the head 
 of the humerus is thickest at its centre, while the con- 
 trary takes place within the glenoid cavity. B'roni the 
 extensive moliility in this joint, the ligaments are few, 
 but it is abundantly strengthened by the surrounding 
 muscles, and by the projecting acromion and coracoid 
 processes of the scajtula. See Plate XIV. Fig. 1. D 
 and E. 
 
 The ligaments that surround the shoulder joint are 
 three in number, viz. the glenoid ligament, the capsular 
 ligament, and the synovial ligament. 
 
 The glenoid ligament forms a kind of oval cushion, 
 and is made up partly of tendinous fibres, proceeding 
 from the bicc/is muscle, and partly of peculiar ligament- 
 ous fibres going off from one point of the circumference 
 of the cavity, and proceeding round it to a certain dis- 
 tance. Fig. 1. K, L. 
 
 The capsular ligament represents a bag with two 
 openings of a conical form, the truncated summit of 
 which corresponds to the glenoid cavity, and its base 
 to the neck of the humerus ; Fig. 1. H. This ligament 
 is remarkable for its length, which is much more consi- 
 derable than would seem necessary to secure the conti- 
 guity of its surfaces ; for, in drawing these in opposite 
 directions, we may separate them more than an inch, — 
 a circumstance which is peculiar to this ligament. The 
 capsular ligament is fixed firoximad to the glenoid, sur- 
 rounding the cavity, except in one part of its internal 
 surface, wliere its fibres are sometimes separated from 
 each other, and admit between them the tendon of the 
 subsca/iularis muscle. This ligament is formed of fibres 
 that interlace each other, and is thicker above than in 
 any ether part, forming there a very dense production, 
 which passes to the atlantal part of the coracoid process 
 i.f the scapula, as is evident from the figure. Its central 
 surface is entirely lined by the synovial ligament, or what 
 is commonly called the buisa mucosa of the shoulder 
 joint. This last is disposed in the following manner : 
 After having lined the glenoid cavity, it proceeds to in- 
 vest the central surface of llie capsular ligament; and 
 
 at the j)lace where the filircs of this latter separate to re- 
 ceive the tendon of the suhsca/iularis, just at the neck of 
 the humerus, it is reflected, so as to cover the cartilage 
 of this bone, with which it is firmly united. At this 
 point of reflection it gives off' to the groove in which 
 runs the tendon of the bice/is, — a production that lines 
 this groove for about an inch, and is then again reflect- 
 ed upon the tendon of the bice/ie, so as to form below a 
 close sac, that prevents the effusion of the synovia. 
 
 The knee-jou)t is one of the most complex in the hu- 
 man body. It is formed by the contact of three bones, 
 with intermediate, moveable cartilages, and is strength- 
 ened by a considerable number of ligaments and tendons. 
 A view of this joint, as seen from the fore part, where 
 the /latella and several of the ligaments are cut away, is 
 given in Plate XIV. Fig. 2. 
 
 In this joint, the two condyles of the thigh bone res' 
 on the corresponding hollows in the proximal extrenuty 
 of the tibia, while the /laiella, or knee-pan, enters rotu- 
 lad into the groove that is formed between the condyles. 
 All these three articulatiiig surfaces are invested with 
 cartilage, of a thickness proportioned to its extent, but 
 which is liable to change, according to the various de- 
 grees of flexion or extension. The numerous ligament-, 
 that form the principal connection between the articu- 
 lating bones, may be considered under two points of 
 view; 1.?/, those that connect the patella with the other 
 bones; 2rf, those which more particularly connect the 
 tibia with the thigh-bone. 
 
 The principal ligament that connects the patella with 
 the other bones, may be considered as the termmatiou 
 of the tendons of the extensor muscles of the thigh, and 
 is represented in Fig. 2. at F and G. It is formed by 
 a bundle of fibres that are very thick, and extend per- 
 pendicularly from the distal angle of the fiatella F, and 
 from the unequal depression of that bone E, to the pro- 
 jecting eminence in which commences the rotular ridge 
 of the tibia, or the shin; and it extends at both these 
 points of connection, above two inches in breadth, fonn- 
 ing at its central surface a fatty tissue, that is inteiposed 
 between it and the synovial capsule of the joint; and be- 
 low a small, insulated, synovial bag, that facilitates the 
 motion of the ligament upon the tibia. It is formed of 
 parallel, serrated fibres, which, though they perform the 
 office of ligament, difl'er from it in their appearance and 
 chemical properties. 
 
 The connection between the tibia and thigh bone is 
 principally secured by two lateral ligaments, two oblique, 
 and one posterior, or, as we may call it, popliteal. One 
 of the lateral ligaments, commonly called the external, 
 though it may more properly be csWcAJibular, in contra- 
 distinction to tibial, arises from the fibular or external 
 projection of the thigh-bone, and, after running along 
 the articulating side of the condyle, is attached to the 
 proximal extremity of the fibula. This ligament is 
 roundish, and, though strictly ligamentous, has the ap- 
 pearance of a tendon. It is covered by the aponeurosis 
 of the crurevs, and more immediately by that of tlie 
 biceps muscle peripherad ; and ccntrad it is contiguous 
 to the tendon of the popliteus, and is there invested with 
 a synovial ligament. The internal lateral, or what may 
 be called the ^iiJ/a/ ligament, differs from the preceding 
 principally by its flattened form. It proceeds from the 
 internal or mesial condyle of the thigh-bone, extends 
 downwards, increasing considerably in breadth, and 
 giving off fibres to the tibial condyle of the tibia. It is 
 then continued forwards by a long production, to the
 
 ANATOiMV 
 
 741 
 
 i-t)mmencement of the tibial ridge of the tibia, hi whicli 
 it terminates. The posterior, or poplitcui ligament, is 
 formed by a bundle of fibres, rumung obliquely and su- 
 perficially between the upper and back pari of the tibial 
 tuberosity of the tibia, and tlie fibular condyle of the 
 thigh-bone. It is formed by a division of llie tendon of 
 the scmi-j7n'mi>ranosus muscle, which leaves between its 
 fibres spaces for the passage of the biood-vcssels that 
 supply the joint. Above ihis lenduious expansion there 
 are, however, some transverse fibres that are indepen- 
 dent of the tendon. 
 
 The oblique ligaments, so called from their directions, 
 consist of two very strong fibrous cords, L and M, Plate 
 XIV. Fig. 2., placed at the popliteal pan of the articu- 
 lation, and on the outer side, though at first sight they 
 appear to Ijc contained within the joint, because they are 
 surrounded by a synovial capsule. When seen in a 
 particular direction, as in Fig. 2., they cross each other 
 like the strokes of an X, and hence are frequently called 
 crucian ligaments. One of them passes forward, and is 
 fixed to the fibular condyle of the thigh-bone, from 
 which it passes obliquely to the spine of the tibia, and 
 is lost at the insertion of the similunar cartilages, to be 
 presently described. The other passes backward, being 
 fixed to the fibular pai't of the tibial condyle of the thigh- 
 bone, as at L, whence it diverges on one part to the ex- 
 cavation which is behind the spine of the tibia, and on 
 the other to the popliteal part of the fibular semilunar 
 cartilage. These two ligaments, which, next the cavity 
 of the joint, are invested by the synovial ligament, are 
 separated behind and above by the popliteal ligament, 
 and by a great quantity of cellular membrane. 
 
 Between the condyles of the thigh-bone and the cor- 
 responding cavities of the tibia, there lie two fibro-carti- 
 laginous bodies, loosely attached to the bones, and tak- 
 ing a curvilineal direction, whence they are called the 
 semilunar cartilages. Tbey are confined to the circum- 
 ference of the cavities of the tibia, one on each side of 
 the spinal ridge ; see Fig. 2. H, K. Of these cartilages, 
 the inner, or tibial, is longer from before backward, 
 than in the opposite direction ; while the outer, or fibular 
 cartilage, forms almost an entire circle ; and thus they 
 are accommodated to the difi'erent articulating surfaces 
 of the tibia. At their circumference they are very thick, 
 and are attached to the fibres of the ligaments that sur- 
 round the joint, especially to those of the lateral liga- 
 ments. Their inner, or central circumference, is very 
 thin, and here they are surrounded by the synovial liga- 
 ment. The popliteal extremity of each is fixed behind 
 the spine of the tibia, just witlun the popliteal oldique 
 ligament. The anterior, or rotular extremity, is insert- 
 ed before the rotular oblique ligament, and consequently 
 to tlie spine of the tibia. 
 
 The synovial, or, as it is commonly called, the capsu- 
 lar ligament of the knee-joint, is extremely complicated, 
 and not easily understood without dissection. Let us 
 suppose it to arise above the joint, between the tendon 
 of the extensors, and in the rotular part of the con- 
 dyles, at the thigh-bone. Being very lax at this part, 
 and being covered with a thick layer of fatty cellular 
 membrane, it readily permits the patella to be separated 
 from the former, where the extensor tendon is divided, 
 as in Fig. 2., where P Q represent parts of this mem- 
 brane, most of it being cut away, to shew the interior 
 of the joint. From the part which we have supposed 
 
 its origin, it is reflected belou' the condyles, which it 
 invests tliroughout their whole extent, adhering to them 
 least in those parts where the Ijone is not cartilaginous. 
 Proceeding thus to the popliteal part of llie joint, this 
 membrane is again reflected upon the fore part of the 
 tendons of the gcmil/i muscles, surrounds the tendon of 
 the Jio/Uitcus, then descends along the oblique ligaments, 
 and over the fatty memljrane which lies behind them.'; 
 then arriving at the articular surface of the tibia, it in- 
 vests that surface, and envelopes the semilunar cartila- 
 ges in every part, except at their very circumference. 
 It then passes upwards, behind the inferior ligament of 
 the patella, separated from this by a vast quantity of 
 cellular membrane, and here sends off a small prolonga- 
 tion, which traverses the joint, passing between the 
 two condyles ; and from tlie fatty matter which it often 
 contahis, is sometimes, though improperly, called the 
 adipose ligament. Lastly, it passes belund the patella, 
 invests, on both sides, the aliom-jirosin of the cruralis 
 muscle, which is inserted into that bone, and terminates 
 behind the extensor tendon, at the place from which we 
 have supposed it to originate.* 
 
 Sect. II. On the Muscles and their Ajiliendagcs. 
 
 We have said that the muscles are the active and es- 
 sential organs of motion ; and this holds true in everv 
 part of the body. The muscular organs, however, difi'er 
 much in their situation and office. By far the greater 
 number are situated next the surface of the body, cover- 
 ing the bony case, and formhig the flesh. Some of them, 
 however, arc situated within tlie cavities of the body, 
 are not designed for performing the locomotive actions 
 of the machine, but constitute the principal part of 
 those organs whose office it is to carry on the most im- 
 portant functions of the system. Thus the heart is no- 
 thing but a hollow muscle, and the gullet, the stomach, 
 the bowels, the arteries, are in a great measure com- 
 posed of muscidar fibres. Froin the different offices 
 performed by these two classes of muscles, Bichat has 
 thought proper to consider them as two distinct systems ; 
 calUiig the locomotive muscles the muscular system of 
 animal life, and the muscular structure of the internal 
 organs the muscular system of organic life. Probably in 
 this, as in many other parts of his system, he refines 
 too much. Whatever may be the diffijrence of situa- 
 tion or of function in the several muscular parts, their 
 structure and appearance are nearly the same. The 
 following observations, hov.ever, refer chiefly to the 
 locomotive muscles, with which we are now principally 
 concerned. 
 
 These muscles are almost entirely composed of fleshy 
 fibres, arranged for the most part parallel to each other, 
 and forming a series of fasciculi, or bundles, that by 
 their union form what is called the belly of the muscle. 
 These fasciculi, as well as the fibres of which they are 
 made up, are separated from each other by a cellular 
 membrane, which serves to connect them together, 
 and to favour the passage and distribution of the numer- 
 ous blood vessels, lymphatics, and nerves, with which 
 the muscles are supplied. The direction of these 
 fasciculi is very various. Sometimes they run along the 
 whole length of the muscle, in one rectilineal parallel 
 range ; as in the muscles that appear in the fore parts 
 of the belly, and the muscle is then called a straight 
 
 ' Bidfct, uinatotnie Defcrip.Tom. I. p. 390.
 
 742 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 musclf. Somelimcs Ihey run parallel to each other, and 
 in an ohliquu direction, foriiiiiig what is called an ob- 
 lique muscle. In some instances they are disposed on 
 each side of a middle line, so as to form angles with each 
 other, like the feathery parts of a quill, and the muscle 
 is then called a penniform muscle ; as an instance of 
 which, we may quote the straight muscle of the thigh, 
 (See Plate XV. Fig. 1, No. 166.) In a few instances 
 they take a circular direction, forming an orbicular 
 muscle, as that which surrounds the eye. Of these, tlie 
 oblique muscles are the most frequent. 
 
 The fleshy fibres are inserted cither immediately into 
 the place of their attachment, or, what is more common, 
 this insertion is made through the medium of tendon or 
 sinew. The attachments of muscles have been variously 
 denominated, according as the one extremity or the 
 other is attached to a fixed or a moveable point. In the 
 former case, the attachment is called the origin, and in 
 the latter the insertion, of the muscle. These terms are 
 arbitrary, and are sometimes vague and indefinite ; for, 
 the attachments of a muscle are hi many cases both 
 moveable points, and the one or the other may become 
 the fixed point according to circumstances. 
 
 The tendons, which in general form the medium of 
 attachment between the musculous fibres and the bones, 
 are also of a fibrous structure ; but the fibres of which 
 they are composed are whiter, more dense, and more 
 elastic, resembling those of ligament. They do not, 
 like the muscular fibres, contract in obedience to the 
 ■will, or on the application of external stimuli ; but ap- 
 pear to be insensible, and in the dead body are much 
 stronger than the fleshy fibres, though during the life 
 of the animal, they are not unfrequently ruptured by the 
 violent contraction of the belly ol the muscle. The ten- 
 dons bear a greater proportion to the fleshy fibres in 
 some muscles than in others ; but this proportion is very 
 regular in the corresponding muscles of the same spe- 
 cies. They also vary considerably in their position with 
 respect to the fleshy fibres ; forming by these diff'er- 
 ences six or seven varieties. In the first variety, the 
 tendinous fibres are continued in a line with the fleshy 
 fibres ; and here the tendon is sometimes at one ex- 
 tremity, sometimes at another, and not unfrequently at 
 both ; in a second, the tendinous are closely hiterwoven 
 with the fleshy fibres, appearing sometimes more on one 
 side, sometimes more on the other ; in a thiid variety, 
 the tendon divides the muscular fibres longitudinally ; 
 in a fourth, it divides them in a cross direction ; in a 
 fifth, the tendon is on one side of the oblique fleshy 
 fibres ; in a sixth, there are more than one or two ten- 
 dons, either at one or both of the attachments; and in a 
 seventh, several of these varieties are combined in the 
 same muscle. The tendons of some muscles, especially 
 of those that are inserted into the fingers and toes, are 
 extremely long, in proportion to the belly of the muscle ; 
 
 and in these cases they usually pass below strong liga- 
 ments, wiiich confine them in their situation. 
 
 Muscles have received different names, according to 
 the functions which they are supposed to perform, and 
 according to their relative position. Thus, muscles 
 that are situated in such a manner, as that, by their con- 
 traction, a joint is bended, are called Jlexor muscles ; 
 those which are so situated, that their contraction pro- 
 duces the contrary effect, are called extennor muscles ; 
 and as these counteract each other, they are said to be 
 antagonists, or to antagonise each other. When a muscle 
 arises by two or three fleshy parts, all terminating in a 
 single tendon, it is called a bicefis or a trictfia muscle ; 
 and so of many others. 
 
 Muscles are sometimes, especially where they are 
 required to exert great powers of action, as in the arm, 
 thigh, and leg, bound down by a strong ligamentous 
 memberanc called aponeurosis, or fascia ; and in one in- 
 stance (\\\e fascia lata of the thigh) this aftoneurosis is 
 provided with a muscle, by whose contraction it may be 
 rendered more tense. 
 
 The muscles, when in action, have their fleshy bel- 
 lies swelled, and rendered harder ; as may easily be ob- 
 served in those fleshy protuberances that are formed in 
 the living body when any of the limbs are thrown into 
 violent action. This efl'ect on the muscles, is well ex- 
 pressed in the figures on Plates XVI. XVII. the figures 
 of which are intended to represent the manner in which 
 the body of a muscular man would be affected during 
 violent exertions, or severe bodily pain. 
 
 The principal circumstances worthy of notice in a 
 general view of the muscles, are their relative situation, 
 with respect to the parts of the body ; their attach- 
 ments or connexions with the bones, membranes, or 
 each other ; the direction in which the fleshy fibres draw 
 when thrown into contraction ; and the efl'ect produced 
 by the muscle, acting singly or in conjunction with 
 other muscles, on the moveable points to which they are 
 attached. We have endeavoured to express these cir- 
 cumstances as distinctly as possible in the subjoined 
 Tables. The first Table comprises four columns ; in 
 the first of which the principal muscles are numbered 
 and arranged according to the regions or parts of the 
 body in which they are found. The names by which 
 we have distinguished the muscles are generally those 
 of Albinus ; but we have added, by way of synonyme, 
 those of Innes, where they differ from the former, and 
 those of Dumas, as being useful in remembering the at- 
 tachments. As most of the muscles appear in pairs on 
 each side of the mesial line, we have generally given the 
 names in the plural number ; and where this is not done, 
 it is to be understood that the muscle named in the singu- 
 lar, is either azijgous, {j. e. without a fellow) or that it has 
 no fellow in that particular organ, as the eye, the arm, the 
 thigh, kc* 
 
 • The regions under which anatomists have arranged the muscles, differ very much, both in number and description. We shall 
 here enumerate those of Albinus and Uumas, whose synonymes we have adopted in the following Table 
 
 Tlie muscular regions of Albinus are thirty in number, viz. I. the skidl ; II the parts about the ear ; III the face ; IV. the cheeks and 
 the side of the skull ; V.the orbits of the eyes; VI. the auricle ; VII. the internal ear; Vlll. the neck; IX. the parts below the cheeks; 
 X. the breast ; XT. the sides of the thorax ;' XII, the belly ; XllI the testes and parts adjacent ; XIV. the parts between the belly and 
 the thorax ; XV below the breast ; XVI. part of the loins ; X\'II.the perineuin in men, and the j^enita/ia in women ; XVIII. tlie parts 
 about the anus ; XIX the back, and b.-\ck part of the neck and loins ; XX. the intercostal spaces ; XXI the sides and interior part of the 
 neck of the skeleton ; XXII. the scapula and upper part of the humerus ; XXIII. the rest <if the humerus ; XXIV. tie fore arm ; XXV. the 
 hand; XXVI the "ates, or buttocks ; XXVll. the thigli; XXVUI. the leg; XXIX. the back of die foot and toes; XXX. the sole of the 
 foot and inferior surface of the toes.. 
 
 Dumas arranges the muscles under 47 regions, viz. I. epicranian ; II. frontal ; ni. palpebral ; IV. orbital ; V external auricular ; VI. 
 internal auricular ; VII. malar ; VIII nasal ; IX labial ; X. pterigo-maxilliary ; XI. inferior maxi'lary ; XII. trorl.elo-thoracic, or anterior 
 part of Uie neck ; Xlll.trochelo-hyoideaii, or cciitrftl anterior part ot the neck ; XIV. laryngean ; XV. palatine > XVI, glossean or Ungual j
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 743 
 
 In the second column arc marked the attachments of 
 the muscles, and their connection with otlicr muscles ; 
 the latter being referred to by the numbers affixed to 
 them in the preceding column. 
 
 In ihe third column is pointed out the direction in 
 which the fibres of the muscle draw, and in the fourth 
 are noted the functiom of the single muscle, or of the 
 pair when acting together. The former is not always 
 
 mentioned, because, in general, the action of a single 
 muscle may be readily found by knowing the direction nf 
 action of its fibucs. 
 
 The terms employed in this Table to mzxV. fiotitioji 
 and direction, are those of Dr Barclay ; and may be easily 
 understood, be referring to the account of his nomen- 
 clature given in p. 745. 
 
 TABULAR VIEW OF THE HUMAN MUSCLES. 
 
 JVo. JVames and Synonymes. 
 
 I. Epicranial. 
 1. Occipito-frontales. 
 
 Etiicranii. A. 
 
 Fronto-iourciliers. D. 
 
 PI. XV. Fig. 1. and 2. No. 17. 
 3. Corrugatores supercilii. 
 
 Cutaneo-sourciliers. D. 
 
 II. Of the Eyes and Eyelids. 
 3. Orbicularis palpebrarum. 
 MaxiUo.Jiatfiebral. D. 
 PI. XV. Fig. 1. No. 27.; PI. xxi. 
 Fig. 1 . No. 44. 
 
 4. Levator palpebrae superioris. 
 Orbito-sus Pal/iebrat. D. 
 
 5. Rectus atoUens oculi. 
 Sus-optico-sfiheni-sclerotici^n, D. 
 Levator oculi. I. 
 
 6. Rectus deprimens oculi. 
 Depressor oculi. I. 
 Sous-o/iti-sji/ieno-scleloricicn. D. 
 
 7. Rectus adducens oculi. 
 Adductor oculi. I. 
 Orbito-intus-scleroticien. D. 
 
 8. Rectus abducens oculi. 
 Abductor oculi. I. 
 Orbito-extus-scleroticien. D. 
 
 9. Obliquus superior oculi. 
 
 Trachlearis. I., 8cc. 
 0/itico-trochlei-scleroticien. 
 10. Obliquus inferior oculi. 
 Maxillo-scleroticien. D. 
 
 Attachments. 
 
 Frontal, occipital, and 
 temporal bones, skin, 
 and Nos. 2, 3. 
 
 Nos. I. and 3. 
 
 Frontal and temporal 
 bones, skin, and 
 Nos. 1, 2, and 13. 
 
 Direction of Action. 
 
 Coronad and iniad, or 
 cor. and antmiad. 
 
 Coronad. 
 
 Mesiad. 
 
 Sphenoidal bone and up- Coronad and laterad, 
 per eye-lid. 
 
 Sphenoidal bone_ and Iniad. 
 eye-ball. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Glabellad and mesiad. 
 
 D. 
 
 Coronal maxilla 3Lnd eye- Ditto, 
 ball. 
 
 Functions. 
 
 Slightly move the hairy 
 scalp, and regulate 
 the action of 2. ; as- 
 sist No. 50. 
 
 Wrinkle the eyebrows 
 in frowning, &c. and 
 regulate the action 
 of 3. 
 
 Closes the eye-lids, and 
 assists 2. 
 
 Raises the upper eye- 
 lid, and moderates the 
 action of 3. 
 
 Moves the eye coronad, 
 and iniad, and regu- 
 lates 6. 
 
 Moves the eye-ball -fta- 
 silad and iniad, and 
 regulates 5. 
 
 Moves the eye-ball me- 
 siad a.nd iniad, and re- 
 gulates 8. 
 
 Moves the eye-ball late- 
 rad and iniad, and re- 
 gulates 7. 
 
 Moves the eye -ball ^/a- 
 bellad and mesiad, and 
 regulates 10. 
 
 Ditto, and regulates 9. 
 
 III. Of the Nose. 
 
 1 1 . Compressores naris. 
 Maxillo-narinaux. D. 
 
 IV. Of the Lips. 
 
 Coronal maxilla and 
 skin of the nos&. 
 
 Compress the nostrils, 
 and assist 14. 
 
 12. Orbicularis oris. 
 Labial. D. 
 PI. xxi. Fig. 1. No. 38, 39. 
 
 Skin ofthe lips and nose. Mesiad. 
 
 Closes the lips. 
 
 XVll. pharyngeal! ; XVIIl. costo-stemal ; XIX. spino-costal ; XX. thoraco-pleural, or internal thoracic ; XXI. abdominal ; XXII. thoraco- 
 abdominal, or diaphragmatic ; XXIIl. dorsocervical ; XXIV. dorso-lumbar ; XXV. cervico-occipital ; XXVI. spinal, or posterior part of the 
 vertebral column ; XXVII. pre-spinal, or anterior part of the vertebral column ; XXVIII. transverso-spinal, or lateral part ; XXIX. ex- 
 ternal iliac; XXX. internal iliac ; XXXI. annular, (about the anus ;) XXXO. perineo-sexual ; XXXIII. scapular ; XXXIV humero- 
 clavicular ; XXXV. humero-olecranian ; XXXVI- cubito-palmar (anterior fore arm ;) XXXVII. cubito-olecranian, (posterior tore arm ;) 
 XXXVIII palmar ; XXXIX. sus-palmar, or body of the hand ; XL. femoro-peronean, (the fibular side of the thigh ;) XLI. femoro- 
 rotulian (rotular side of the thigh ;) XLII. femoro-pubian (tibial side of the thigh;) XLIII. femoro-poplite.^1 (p^-plitealside of the thigh ;) 
 XLIV. cretia-crural (rotular side ofthe leg ;)XLV. poplite-crural (popliteal side ot the leg ;) XLVI. sus-plantar, (back of the foot,) and 
 XLVII. plantar or sole ofthe foot. 
 
 We do not give the regions of Innes, because these are familiar to most students of Anatomy. In the following Table we have re- 
 duced these regions to twelve.
 
 744 
 
 A^o. J\'ames and Si/nouymes 
 1 3. Levatores anguli oris. 
 Sus-tnaxillo-labiaux. D. 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 14. 
 
 16. 
 
 17. 
 
 18. 
 
 19. 
 
 Levatores labii superioris alsque 
 
 nasi. 
 Orbit o-maxilli-labiaujc. D. 
 PI. XV. Fig. 1.. No 21; Pi. xxi. 
 
 Fig. 1. No. 44. 
 Depressores labii superioris ala- 
 
 rumci. nasi. 
 Dejircssores alix nasi. A. 
 JSIaxillo-alvtoli-nasaux. D. 
 Depressores labii inferioris. 
 Mcntonier-labiaux. D. 
 PI. xxi. Fig. 1. No. 37. 
 Depressores angulorum oris. 
 Sous-maxiUo-tabiaux. D. 
 
 Zygomatici. 
 "Z^ygumato-labiaux. D. 
 PI. xxi. Fig. I. No. 42. 
 Buccinators. 
 Alvenlo-maxillaires. D. 
 PI. XV. Fig. 1. No. 19; 
 Fig. 1. No. 41. 
 
 PI. 
 
 Attachments. 
 Coronal maxilla and No. 
 12. 
 
 Dirrctrolt of Acfrov 
 Laterad and coronaJ. 
 
 Coronal maxilla, ala na- Ccronad. 
 si, and No. 13. 
 
 Ditto, and upper-lip. Basilad and laterad. 
 
 Basilar maxilla and 12. Ditto. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Malar-bones, and 12. 
 
 Coronal, and basilar 
 maxillte, and 12. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Coronad, 
 iniad. 
 
 latenad, and 
 
 Latorad and iniad. 
 
 Punrthvt. 
 
 Together draw the cor- 
 ners of the mouth co- 
 ronad. 
 
 Assist 12 and 13. 
 
 Draw the upper lip 6a- 
 Mad, when acting to- 
 gether. 
 
 Together draw the low- 
 er lip basilad. 
 
 Together draw basilad 
 the corner of the 
 mouth. 
 
 Together draw the cor- 
 ners of the mouth co- 
 ronad. 
 
 When the lips are clo- 
 sed by 12, inflate the 
 cheeks. 
 
 V. Of the Lower, or Basilar 
 Jaw. 
 
 20. 
 
 21. 
 
 22. 
 
 Temporals. 
 
 Arcadi-ttm/iore-maxillaires. D. 
 PI. XV. Fig. 11. No. 66; PI. xxi. 
 
 Fig. 1. No. 47. 
 Masseters. 
 
 Zigomato-maxiltaircs. D. 
 PI. XV. Fig. 1. No. 67; PI. xxi. 
 
 Fig. 1. No. 35. 
 Pterygoidei cxterni. 
 Pterigo-colli-maxillaires. D. 
 
 Pterygoidei interni. 
 Pterigo-anguli-maxillaires. 
 
 D. 
 
 24. Biventres maxillae. 
 Digastrici. \. 
 Maxilto-h ugcnirns. 
 FiiT. 1. No. 68. 
 
 D. PI. xiv. 
 
 25. Mylo-hyoidei. 
 Mijlo-hyoidieyis. D. 
 
 26. Genio-hyoidei. 
 Genio-hyoidicns. D. 
 
 27. Genio-hyoiglossi. 
 Genio-glosscs. D. 
 
 VL Of the Tongue and 
 Fauces. 
 
 28. Lingualib. 
 
 29. Hyoglossi. 
 
 Basio, cerato, chondro-glossi, Hyo- 
 chondro-glosscs. D. 
 
 Frontal, parietal, tem- Coronad, mesiad, iniad, Together draw the ba- 
 
 poral, sphenoidal, and &nA antiniad. silar jaw coroworf. 
 
 malar bones, basilar 
 
 maxilla. 
 
 Temporal, cheek bones. The same except we- Ditto. 
 
 and basilar maxilla. siad. 
 
 Sphenoidal bone, coro- 
 nal and basilar maxil- 
 la. 
 
 Sphenoidal, palate 
 
 bones and basilar 
 maxilla. 
 
 Temporal bones, basi- 
 lar maxilla. 
 
 Basilar maxilla and c? 
 
 hyoides. 
 Ditto. 
 
 Basilar maxilla, as hy- 
 oides and tongue. 
 
 Forms the principal 
 part of the substance 
 of the tongue. Con- 
 nected with 27 and 
 . 29. 
 
 Os hyoides and tongue. 
 
 Basilad, mesiad, and an-" 
 tiniad. 
 
 Coronad, mesiad, znd an- 
 tiniad. 
 
 Assist in the same mo- 
 > tion; also draw the 
 
 jaw antiniad. 
 
 Sacrad, dorsad, and la- Draw the jaw basilad. 
 terad; atlant. dors. 
 and later. ; or basi- 
 lad, laterad, and ini- 
 ad. 
 
 Basilad, mesiad, and an- 
 tiniad. 
 
 Basilad and iniad. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Ditto. 
 Ditto. 
 Ditto. 
 
 Basilad, iniad, and me- 
 siad. 
 
 Performs most of tlie 
 motionsof the tongue. 
 
 Draw the tongue iniad 
 and basilad.
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 745 
 
 3^0. 
 30. 
 
 31. 
 
 32. 
 33. 
 
 o5. 
 
 36. 
 
 •sr. 
 
 JVamcs and Synonynies. 
 Styio-glossi. 
 Slyla-gl'jHSCS. D. 
 Stylo-hyoklei. 
 Slylo-hyoidkns. D. 
 Stylo-pharyngci. 
 Stylo-! Iiyro-pharyngiens. D. 
 Circumflex! piilati mollis. 
 S/t/ie?io-tialj!intfo-ni<!/i/iy litis. D. 
 
 Levatores palati mollis. 
 
 Petro-sal/iingo-sta/i/iylins. 
 
 D. 
 
 D. 
 
 Palato-pharyngei. 
 
 r'alaiu-Jiharyjigiens. 
 
 Azygos uvuls. 
 
 Patato-slajihytins. D. 
 
 Coustriciores pharyngis. 
 
 Constrictor infi-iior, mcclius ct su- 
 fierlor /iharyngis. A. Cricothy- 
 ro-pharyngiftis, iJ^c. D. 
 
 Coivslriclori s islhmi faucium. 
 
 Glosso-stafihylins. D. 
 
 VII. Of the Larynx. 
 
 39. Crico-thyroidei. 
 
 40. Crico-pliaryngei. 
 
 41. Crico-arytenoidei. 
 Stylo-thyroidei. 
 Tliyi'o-hyoidei. 
 Thyro-epiglottidei. 
 Thyro-aiylenoidei. 
 Thyro-pharyngci. 
 Thyro-staphylini. 
 Arytaenoidei ; Plate XIV. Fig. 5. 
 
 No. 1. 
 Arytaeno-epiglottidei. 
 PI. XIV. Fig. 6. No. 4. 
 
 jlttachmetits. 
 Temporal bones and 
 
 tongue. 
 Temporal bones and 
 
 OS hyoides. 
 Temporal bones and' 
 
 pharynx. 
 Sphenoidal bone and 
 
 velum pendulum jia- 
 
 lati. 
 Temporal bones and 
 
 velum /leiidulum Jia- 
 
 lati. 
 
 Palate bones and uvula. 
 
 Occipital bone, os hy- 
 oides, and Jtharynx. 
 
 Direction rjf Ac'ion. 
 Coroiiad, iniad, and late- 
 
 rad. 
 ,4tlatitad, dorsad, and 
 lalcrad. 
 
 42. 
 43. 
 44. 
 45. 
 46. 
 47. 
 48. 
 
 49. 
 
 Attached to the o.s hy-^ 
 aides, and the various 
 cartilages of the la- 
 ^ rytix, as their names 
 import. 
 
 VIII. Of the Ear. 
 
 50. Attollentes aurem. 
 Te7ii/ioro-conchiniens. D. 
 
 Fig. 2. 
 
 51. Antcriores Auriculae. 
 Zygomato-conchiniens. D. 
 
 52. Retrahentes auriculam. 
 Alastoido-conchiniens. D. 
 
 53. Tragici. 
 Concho-tragigues. D. 
 
 54. Antitragici. 
 Antheli-tragiques. D. 
 
 55. Majores helicis. 
 Helix. D. 
 
 55. Minores helicis. 
 Concho-helix. D. 
 
 57. Transversi auriculae. 
 Concho-ant helix. D. 
 
 58. Externi mallei. 
 
 59. Tensores tympani. 
 
 60. Stapedii. 
 
 IX. Chiefly attached to 
 THE Head and Neck. 
 
 61. Sterno-thyroidei. 
 
 Sterjio-thyroidiens. D. 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 Temporal bones and Coronad. 
 auricle. 
 
 Ditto. 
 Ditto. 
 
 Attached to the pai-ts 
 of the auricle, which 
 their names express. 
 
 Iniad. 
 
 Attached to the bones 
 and membrane of the 
 
 tympanum. 
 
 ] 
 
 Sternum and 
 cartilage. 
 
 thyroid Sacrad and laterad. 
 
 SB 
 
 Functions. 
 
 Draw the tongue iniad, 
 and, acting singly, la- 
 terad. 
 
 Assist in swallowing. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Muscles of voice and 
 deglutition. 
 
 Stretch the conch of 
 
 the ear. 
 Obscurely draw back 
 
 the auricle. 
 
 Obscurely act on the 
 conch. 
 
 Assist in the mechan- 
 ism of hearing. 
 
 Draw the head and 
 neck sacrad, and act 
 on Uie glottis.
 
 746 
 
 JVo. JVamcfi and Synonymen. 
 
 62. Stcrno-hyoidci. 
 Sterno-hyoidinia. D. Plate XV. 
 
 Fig. 1. No. 44. 
 
 63. Coraco-hyoidei. 
 Sca/iulo-hyoidienn. D. 
 
 64. Stcrno-mastoidei. 
 Sterno-eleido-mastoidicns. D. 
 
 Plate XV. Fig. 2. No. 94. 
 Plate XXI. Fig. 1. No. 48. 
 
 65. Latissimi colli. 
 Platysina myoidci. I. 
 Thoraco-maxilli-faciaux. D. 
 
 66. Longi Colli. 
 Pre-dorsO'Ctrvicaux. D. 
 
 67. Trachclo-mastoidei. 
 Trac/icto-mastoidiens. D. 
 
 68. Splcnii capitis. 
 Dorso-trachelicns. D. Plate XV 
 
 Fig. 2. No. 88. 
 
 69. Recti capitis iiiterni. 
 Traclielo-basilaires. D. 
 
 70. Recti capitis laterales. 
 Trachelo-atloido-basilaires. D. 
 
 71. Recti capitis postici majores. 
 Spini-axoido-occi/iitaux. D. 
 
 72. Recti capitis postici minores. 
 Tiiber-C!tloido-occipitaux\ D. 
 
 73. Complexi. 
 Dorai-tracheli-occijiitaux. D. 
 
 74. Obliqui capitis superiores. 
 
 Trachelo-atloido-occipitaux . 
 
 D. 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 Attachments. 
 Sternum and o« hyoidcs. 
 
 Sternum and scapula. 
 
 75. Obliqui capitis inferiores. 
 Spini-axoido-trachelo-atloidies. D. 
 
 76. Trapezii. 
 Occi/ii'i-dorso-c/avi-sus-acromien.9. 
 
 D. Plate XV. Fig. 2. No. 81. 
 
 X. Belonging to the Neck 
 AND Trunk, but not at- 
 tached TO THE Head or 
 
 ExTKEMITIES. 
 
 77. Intcrspinales colli. 
 Iiiterepineiix, D. 
 
 78. Mutifidi spinae. 
 T'ra?isverso-spinaux. D. 
 
 79. Spinales cervicis. 
 
 80. Semispinales dorsi. 
 Transverso-spinaux. D. 
 
 81. Serrati postici superiores. 
 Ccrvki-dorso-costaux. D. 
 
 Direction of Acl'mn. 
 Laterad or slernad. 
 
 Sternum, clavicle, and Laterad and sternad ; 
 temporal bones. or sacrad and mcsiad. 
 
 Basilar maxiliar andse- Sacrad or stemad, 
 vcral muscle. 
 
 Cervical and dorsal ver- Sacrad or laterad. 
 
 tebrae. 
 
 Cervical vertebrae and Sacrad, dorsad, vicsiad 
 
 temporal bones. t)r laterad. 
 
 Ditto and occipital Ditto, 
 bone. 
 
 Occipital bone and cer- Sacrad, dorsad and late- 
 vical vertebrae. rad. 
 
 Occipital bone and at- Sacrad, sternad and me- 
 las. siad. 
 
 Occipital bone and se- 
 cond cervical verte- 
 bra. 
 
 Occipital bone and at- 
 las. 
 
 Occipital bone and cer- Sacrad, sternad and la- 
 vical and dorsal ver- terad. 
 
 tebrae. 
 
 Occipital bone and Sacrad and dorsad. 
 spin. proc. of atlas. 
 
 Occipital bone, atlas, Sacrad, dorsad, and me- 
 
 and spin. proc. of siad. 
 
 cervical vertebrae. 
 
 Occipital bone, scapula, Sacrad, sternad, and la- 
 
 clavicle, and spin. terad, or sacrad, dor- 
 
 proc. of cervical and sad, and mesiad.* 
 
 dorsal vertebrae. 
 
 function.?. 
 Ditto, and assist in de- 
 glutition. 
 
 Perform much the same 
 motions. 
 
 Singly turn the head on 
 the neck ; together 
 draw it sacrad and 
 sternad. 
 
 Ditto, when the jaw is 
 fixed; also draw the 
 jaw sacrad, and com- 
 press the neighbour- 
 ing parts. 
 
 Bend the neck stemad. 
 
 Rotators of the head 
 dextrad, and flexors 
 of the neck slernad 
 or laterad. 
 
 Ditto, 
 
 Ditto. 
 Ditto. 
 Ditto. 
 
 Ditto. 
 Ditto. 
 
 Draw the head laterad, 
 acting apart ; toge- 
 ther, draw it sacrad 
 and dorsad. 
 
 Ditto, and rotators dex- 
 trad. 
 
 Apart, rotate the head 
 dextrad ; together 
 draw it sacrad, and 
 bend the trunk dor- 
 sad. 
 
 Spinous processes of 
 the cervical vertebrae. 
 
 Transverse and spinous 
 processes of the cer- 
 vical and dorsal ver- 
 tebrae. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Transverse and spinous 
 processes of the dor- 
 sal vertebrae. 
 
 Spinous processes of 
 the dorsal vertebrae 
 and ribs. 
 
 Sacrad. 
 
 Sacrad, stemad, and la-- 
 terad. 
 
 Bend the neck back. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Sacrad and laterad. 
 
 All assist in bending the 
 spine according to 
 ^ their direction of ac- 
 tion or degree of 
 force. 
 
 * In all cases where different directions of action are ascribed to the same muscle, it is sirpposed that the fibres of the muscle ba»e 
 tlifftrent directions, or that the fixed point of the fibres is changed.
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 747 
 
 J^o. JVantes and Synonytnta. 
 
 82. Intertransversarii colli. 
 Intertranaversaires. D. 
 
 83. Transversalcs cervicis. 
 Tranifversales colli. I. 
 
 84. Cervicales descendentes. Vide 
 
 No. 91. 
 
 85. Scaleni. 
 Trachelo-costaux. D. 
 
 86. Levatores 2 costarum. 
 
 87. Quadrati lumborum. 
 Ilio-lumbi-costaux. D. 
 
 88. Serrati postici inferiores. 
 Dorsi-lumbo-costaux. D. 
 
 89. Longissimi dorsi. 
 Lumbo-dorso-tracheliens, D. 
 
 90. Psoae parvi. 
 Pre-ltunbi-pubiens. D. 
 
 91. Sacrolumbales. 
 JLumbo-costo-tracheliens. D. 
 
 92. Obliqui interni abdominis. 
 
 Ilio-pubi-costo-abdominaux. D. 
 Plate XV. Fig. 1. No. 1. 
 
 93. Obliqui interni abdominis. 
 Ilio-lumbo-costo-abdotninaux. 
 
 94. Transversi abdominis. 
 
 Lumbo-ili-abdominaux. D. 
 
 95. Recti abdominis. 
 
 Pubio-sternaux. D. Plate XV. 
 Fig. 1. No. 4. 
 
 96. Coccygei. 
 
 97. Curvatores coccygis. 
 
 98. Levatores ani. 
 
 P ubio-coccigi-annulaires. D. 
 
 99. Sphincter ani. 
 
 Cocdgio-cutane-sfihincter. D. 
 
 •Attachments. 
 
 Transverse processes 
 of the cervical verte- 
 brae. 
 
 Transverse processes 
 of the cervical and 
 dorsal vertebrse. 
 
 Transverse processes 
 of the cervical verte- 
 brae and ribs. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Ditto, (two atlantal 
 ribs.) 
 
 Transverse processes 
 of the lumbar and last 
 dorsal vertebrse, last 
 ribs, and ilia. 
 
 Spinous processes of 
 the dorsal and lumbar 
 vertebrae and ribs. 
 
 Crest of the ilia, spinous 
 and transverse pro- 
 cesses of the sacrum, 
 dorsal and lumbar 
 vertebrae and ribs. 
 
 Lumbar vertebras and 
 fiubes. 
 
 Ilia, ribs, spinous and 
 transverse processes 
 of the lumbar verte- 
 brae. 
 
 Spinous processes of 
 the sacrum, trans- 
 verse processes of 
 the lumbar vertebrae, 
 ilia, Poupart's liga- 
 ment, ribs and linea 
 alba. 
 
 Ilia, sacrum, spinous 
 process of the lum- 
 bar vertebrae, Pou- 
 part's ligament, ribs 
 and linea alba. 
 
 Spinous processes of 
 the lumbar vertebrae, 
 ilia, Poupart's liga- 
 ment, ribs, and linea 
 alba. 
 
 Os fiiibis, ribs, and ster- 
 
 Transverse processes 
 of sacrum and coc- 
 cyx. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Pubes, ischia, and 
 sfihincter ani. Con- 
 nected also with No. 
 99, 
 
 Round the extremity of 
 the rectum, and at- 
 tached to the coccyx. 
 
 Direction of Action. 
 Sacrad. 
 
 Sacrad and dor.md. 
 
 Sacrad, dorsad, and la- 
 te rad. 
 
 Sacrad, sternad, and la- 
 terad, or sacrad, dor- 
 sad, and latcrad. 
 
 Sacrad and latcrad. 
 
 Sacrad ; or sacrad and 
 mcsiad. 
 
 Sacrad and mesiad. 
 
 Sacrad or laterad. 
 Sacrad and mesiad. 
 
 Mesiad, sacrad, sternad, 
 and mesiad. Atlan- 
 tad, dorsad, and late- 
 rad. 
 
 Sacrad, dorsad, and me- 
 siad. Laterbd atlan- 
 tad, and laterad. 
 
 Laterad, dorsad, 
 mesiad. 
 
 Sacrad. 
 
 and 
 
 Functions. 
 
 Al! assist in bending the 
 spine accoiJmg to 
 > their direction of ac- 
 tion or degree of 
 force. 
 
 Assist in dilating the 
 chest. 
 
 Bend the trunk dorsad, 
 and assist in con- 
 tracting the chest. 
 
 Assist the preceding. 
 
 Bend the trunk dorsaU 
 
 Bend the trunk sternad. 
 As 90. 
 
 Draw the ribs sacrad, 
 compress the bowels, 
 and bend the body 
 
 sternad. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Assist the two prece- 
 ding. 
 
 Bend the trunk sternad, 
 regulate the three 
 preceding, contract 
 the chest, and com- 
 press tlie bowels. 
 
 Assist in expelling the 
 fceces, and moderate 
 
 • the ^fjTor muscles of 
 the belly. 
 
 SB 3
 
 748 
 
 ANATOMY, 
 
 JVo. JVamcs and Stjiwnijmca. 
 100. Accclcraiorcs uiinae. 
 
 Bulba-syndesmo-cavcriicux. 
 
 D. 
 
 101. Tranversales pcrinjei. 
 Ischio-Ziubi-liroatatiijui's. 
 
 102. Diaplirai^ma, vel sefitum trans- 
 
 vermim. 
 TJioraco-abdommcd. D. 
 Plate XIV. Fig. 3. 
 
 103. Triangularis stcrni. 
 Stcrno-contat. D. 
 
 104. 
 
 vel 
 
 Intercostales perifiherales 
 
 externi. 
 Inter-lateri-costaux. D. 
 105. Intercostales centrales, vel in- Ditto 
 
 terni. 
 Inttr-plniri-costaux. D. 
 
 XI. Muscles of the Atlan- 
 ta!. Extremities. 
 
 106. Subclavius. 
 
 Costo-ciaviculaire. D. 
 
 107. Pectorales. 
 Pectorales majorcs. I. 
 Sterno-costo-clavio-hunicraux. D. 
 Plate XV. Fig. 1. No. 107. 
 
 108. Delloideus. 
 Sous-acromi-ctax'i-lnuncraL D. 
 Plate XV. Fig. 1. and 2. No. 
 
 108. 
 
 109. Rhomboidei. 
 
 Cervici-dorso-sca/iulaires. D. 
 
 110. Levator scapulae. 
 Trachelo-anguli-scapulaire. D. 
 
 111. Serratus amicus. 
 Pectoralis yninor. I. 
 Costo-coracoidU n. D. 
 
 112. Serratus major. 
 Cosfo-basi-sca/i utaire. D. 
 
 1 13. Supraspinatus. 
 Sus-sjiini-sca/iuli-trochiterien. D. 
 
 1 1 4. Infraspinatus. 
 Sous-xfuni-scafiuti-trochitcrien. 
 
 D. 
 Plate XV. Fig. 2. No. 110. 
 
 1 15. Teres major. 
 Anguti-scafmlo-humeral. D. 
 Piute XV. Fig. 2. No. 112. 
 
 1 16. Teres minor. 
 Margini-ms-scaliuli-trochUerien. 
 
 D. 
 
 Atiaehments. 
 
 From the skin ovei' llic 
 urethra to the ccir/io- 
 ra cavcrnoHa fienis. 
 
 J.ichium, /lubis, and root 
 
 oi the penis. 
 
 Sternum, lumbar verte- 
 bra, two sacral true 
 ribs, and all the false 
 ribs. 
 
 Ribs and sternum, es- 
 pecially the cnsiform 
 cartilage. 
 
 Ribs. 
 
 Direction f'jr Action. 
 
 Very various. 
 
 Functions. 
 Compress the urethra. 
 
 Assist in expelling the 
 
 faeces. 
 Contract the chest. 
 
 Assists in contracting 
 the chest. 
 
 .Sacrad and slernad. 
 
 Sacrad and dorsad. 
 
 >Dilate the chest. 
 
 Clavicle and ribs. 
 
 Sacrad, sternad, und me- 
 siad. 
 
 Sternum, clavicle, ribs, Atlantad, sternad, and 
 
 and humerus. 
 
 Spine of the scapula,' 
 clavicle, and humerus. 
 
 Scapula and spinous 
 processes of the cer- 
 vical and dorsal ver- 
 tcbra. 
 
 Scapula and transverse 
 processes of the cer- 
 vical vertebrae. 
 
 Scapula and ribs. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Supraspinous cavity of 
 the sca/iula and the 
 humerus. 
 
 Infraspiuous cavity and 
 humerus. 
 
 mesiad ; or Sacrad, 
 sternad and mesiad ; 
 or humcrad. 
 
 Acromiad and davicu- 
 ■ lad. 
 Spino'scapulad. 
 
 Atlantad, 
 mesiad. 
 
 dorsad, and 
 
 Atlantad, sternad, and 
 laterad. 
 
 Sacrad, sternad, and 
 mesiad. 
 
 Sacrad, sternad, and 
 
 laterad. 
 Dorsad and mesiad. 
 
 Sacrad, f/o?'sarf, and me- 
 siad. 
 
 Scapula and humerus. As 114. 
 
 Ditto, and capsular li- 
 gament of the shoul- 
 der joint. 
 
 Draws the clavicles 
 obliquely downward, 
 or the ribs upward ; 
 and draws the sca- 
 pula sacrad and ster- 
 nad. 
 
 Draws the humerus, 
 7nesiad, 
 
 Extends the humerus 
 sternad; rolls it ul- 
 nad. Bends it dorsad; 
 rolls it radiad : Also 
 draws the humerus 
 mesiad, or adducts 
 it. 
 
 Draw the base of the 
 scapula in the direc- 
 tions of its action ; 
 also bend the trunk 
 dorsad, (the scapula 
 being fixed. 
 
 Draws the base of the 
 scapula in the direc- 
 tion of its action. 
 
 Draws the acromion in 
 the directions of ac- 
 tion, & slightly bends 
 the trunk sternad. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Extend and abduct the 
 ^ humerus, and roll it 
 radiad. 
 
 Draws the humerus 
 
 dorsad, and rolls it 
 
 ulnad. 
 Draws the humerus dor- 
 
 sad, and rolls it ra- 
 
 diad.
 
 ANAT03IY. 
 
 749 
 
 jYo. J^'amcs and Synonymes. 
 Plate XV. Fig. 2. No. 111. 
 
 1 17. Subscapularis. 
 Sous-sca/iula-lrachinicn. D. 
 
 118. Coraco-bracliialis. 
 Coraco-lnancral. D. 
 
 1 19. Triceps. 
 
 Trki'fis-e X t en sor-cuhi!i, I. 
 Tri-scajiulo-liumcro-olfcran'en. 
 D. 
 
 120. Biceps brachii. 
 Bici'ps Jiexor cubiti. I. 
 Sea fiulo-corn co-radial. 
 Plate XV. Fig. 1. No. 116. 
 
 121. Latissimus dorsi. 
 Dorsi-lunibo-sacro-humcral. 
 
 D. 
 Plate XV. Fig. 2. No. 113. 
 
 122. Brachialis internus. 
 Humero-cubilal. D. 
 
 Plate XV. Fig. 1. No. 117. 
 
 123. Supinator longus. 
 Humtro-sus-radial. D. 
 Plate XV. Fig. 1. No. 144. 
 
 124. Radiales externi. 
 Mxtfyx.sores carfii radiales. I. 
 E/iicondylOy ) stis-inetacarfiiens. 
 HumerOi 5 D. 
 
 Plate XV. Fig. 1. No. 144. 
 
 125. Extensor communis digitorum. 
 Hpicoiidylo-sus-fihalangellifn 
 
 ommini. D. 
 Plate XV. Fig. 2. No. 126. 
 125. Extensor digiti minimi. 
 
 JE/iicondylo-sitfi-fi/ialaiigettein da 
 
 petit doigt. D. 
 Plate XV! Fig. 2. No. 130. 
 
 127. Ulnaris externus. 
 Extensor carjii ulnaris. I. 
 £/iicondy -cubit o-sus-metacar- 
 
 Jiien, D. 
 
 128. Anconeus. 
 Epicondxilo-cubital. D. 
 Plate XV. Fig. 2. No. 120. 
 
 129. Extensor major pollicis. 
 Extensor seciiitdi internodii. I. 
 Ciibito-siis-jihalangettien du 
 
 pouce. D. 
 
 1 30. Extensor minor pollicis. 
 F.ntrnsor primi intrrnodiil. 
 Ciibifo-siis-p/ialangien du ponce. 
 
 D. 
 
 131. Indicator. 
 Cubito-sus-phalangettien de Vin- 
 
 dtx. D. 
 1S2. Abductor longus pollicis. 
 
 Extensor ossis metacarpi pollicis. 
 
 Attachments. 
 
 I. 
 
 Ctibito-radi-sus-metacarpie7i 
 
 pouce. D. 
 Plate XV. Fig. 2. No. 136. 
 
 du 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Coracoid process of the 
 
 scafiula and the hu- 
 
 ?nerus. 
 Scapula, humerus in two 
 
 parts, and olecranen 
 
 ulnx. 
 
 Neck and coracoid pro- 
 cess of scafiula, and 
 tubercle of radius. 
 
 Dorsal and lumbar ver- 
 tebrae and humerus. 
 
 Humerus and ulna. 
 
 Near the radial condyle 
 of the humerus, and 
 near the styloid pro- 
 cess of the radius. 
 
 Radial condyles of the 
 humerus ulna, radius, 
 and metacarpal bones 
 of the fore and mid- 
 dle fingers. 
 
 Radial condyle of hume- 
 rus, ulna, radius, and 
 phalanges of the fin- 
 gers. 
 
 Radial condyle of the 
 humerus, ulna, and 
 phalanges of the lit- 
 tle finger. 
 
 Radial condyle of the 
 humerus, ulna and 
 metacarpal bone of 
 the little finger. 
 
 Near the radial condyle 
 of the humerus, and 
 near the olecranon. 
 
 Vina, interosseous liga- 
 ment, and distal pha- 
 lanx of the thumb. 
 
 Ulna, interosseous liga- 
 ment, radius, and 
 proximal phalanx of 
 the thumb. 
 
 Ulna, interosseous liga- 
 ment, and plialanges 
 of the fore finger. 
 
 Ulna, interosseous li- 
 gament, radius, and 
 metacarpus of the 
 
 thumb. 
 
 Direction of Action. 
 
 Atlantad, and latcrad, 
 or sacrad, and ?ne- 
 siad. 
 
 Atlantad and mesiad. 
 
 Long head atlantad and 
 mesiad, rest acromiad. 
 
 Acromiad and mesiad. 
 
 Sacrad, dorsad, and me- 
 siad. 
 
 As in most of the bi- 
 cejis. 
 
 *,* It will be unnecessary to 
 notice the directions nf ac- 
 tion of tlie succeeding 7nus- 
 cles (if the atlant.il extre- 
 mities, as these directions 
 may readily be understood 
 by attending to the points nf 
 attachmtnt, and as they 
 are the same in a great 
 many of the muscles, both 
 of the ailantal and sacral 
 extremities. 
 
 E'unctions. 
 
 Abducts tlie humerus, 
 and rolls it ulnad. 
 
 Aljducts the humerus, 
 and rolls it radiud. 
 
 Draws the humerus 
 dorsad and mesiad. 
 Extends the elbow 
 joint. 
 
 Draws the humerus 
 sternad, and bends 
 the elbow joint. Al- 
 so a supinator of the 
 radius. 
 
 Abducts the hmncrus, 
 and draws it dorsad ; 
 rolls it ulnad. 
 
 Bends the elbow. 
 
 Bends the elbow, and 
 roils the radius ra- 
 diad, or to the sufiinc 
 position. 
 
 Diaw the carpus anco- 
 nad and radiad. 
 
 Extends the fingers ; 
 draws the carpus an- 
 
 conad. 
 
 Extends the little fin- 
 ger, draws the carpus 
 anconad. 
 
 Draws the carpus ra- 
 diad, and the meta- 
 carpus a little thenad. 
 
 Extends the elbow. 
 
 Extends the thumb, 
 rolls the radius ra- 
 diad, and draws the 
 carpus anconad. 
 
 Extends the thumb, and 
 draws the carpus ra- 
 diad. 
 
 Extends the fore-finger, 
 and draws the carpus 
 anconad. 
 
 Draws tlie carpus ra- 
 diad, and the thumb 
 radiad and thenad.
 
 750 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 JVo. A'amcs and Synonymes. 
 
 133. Supinator brevis. 
 Efiicon ihjlo-radial. D. 
 
 134. Ulnaris interims. 
 Flexor carjxi ulnarits. I. 
 Etiitrochli-cubitO'Carfiifn. 
 
 135. Palmaris longus. 
 Efiitrdclili-carfio-fialmaire. 
 
 U. 
 
 D. 
 
 Plate XV. Fig. 1. No. 121. 
 
 136. 
 
 137. 
 
 Radialis internus. 
 Flexor carjd radialis. I. 
 Ffiitrochlo-metacarjiien. D. 
 Plate XV. Fig. 1. No. 139. 
 Pronator teres. 
 Epitrochlo-radial. D. 
 Plate XV. Fig. 1. No. 143. 
 
 138. Sublimis. 
 
 Flexor sublimis ptrforatus. I. 
 Efiitroctilo-iforoni-Jilialanginien. 
 
 D. 
 Plate XV. Fig. 1. No. 123. 
 
 139, Profundus. 
 
 Flexor Jirofundus fierforans. I. 
 Cubito-fifialangettien commun. 
 
 D. 
 HO. Flexor longus poUicis. 
 
 Hadio-phalangetticTi du fiouce. 
 
 D. 
 
 141. Pronator quadratus. 
 Cubito-radial. D. 
 
 142. Abductor brevis pollicis. 
 Abductor t'ollicis. I. 
 Scafiho-sus-Jihatanginien 
 
 ponce. D. 
 PI. XV. Fig. 1. No. 133. 
 Opponens pollicis. 
 Carpo-phalangien du pouce 
 
 du 
 
 14 
 
 D. 
 
 144. 
 
 Flexor brevis pollicis. 
 
 Carpo-phalanginien du police. 
 
 D. 
 
 134. 
 
 PI. XV. Fig. l.No 
 
 145. Adductor pollicis. 
 Metacarpo-phalanginien 
 
 pouce. D. 
 
 146. Palmaris brevis. 
 Palmaire cutarie. D. 
 
 du 
 
 U7. 
 
 148. 
 
 149. 
 
 150. 
 
 151 
 
 Abductor digit! ir.inimi 
 
 Carpo-phalangien du petit doigt. 
 D. 
 
 PI. XV. Fig. 1. No. 131. 
 
 Flexor parvus digiti minimi. 
 
 Second carpo-fihalangien du pe- 
 tit doigt. D. 
 
 Adductor metacarpi digiti mi- 
 nimi. 
 
 Carpo-metacarpien du petit 
 doigt. D. 
 
 Abductor indicis. 
 
 Attachment. E'unctions. 
 
 Radial condyle of humerus, ulna. Assists No. 123. 
 interosseous ligament, and radius. 
 
 Ulnar condyle of humerus, ulna pisi- Bends the elbow, and draws the car- 
 form bone, and annular ligament. pus thenad. 
 
 Aniiular ligament, palmar aponeuro- Bend' the elbow ; rolls the radius 
 
 sis and metacarpal bone of the lit- ulnud. or to the prone position, 
 
 tie finger. Draws the carpus /Atnarf. 
 
 Ulnar condyle of the humerus, ulna, Bends the elbow, rolls the radius ul- 
 
 metacarpus of the fore finger, and nad. Draws the carpus thenad. 
 trapezium bone. 
 
 Lumbricales. 
 
 Annidi-tendino-fihalangiens. 
 
 D. 
 
 Ulna and radius. 
 
 Bends the elbow, rolls the radius 
 ulnad. 
 
 Ulnar condyle of the humerus, and Bends the elbow ; rolls the radius 
 middle phalanges of the fingers. ulnad, and draws the carpus the- 
 
 nad and radiad. 
 
 Ulna interosseous ligament, and dis- Draws the carpus thenad, and ulnad, 
 
 tal phalanges of the fingers. and draws the proximal phalanges 
 
 of the fingers thenad. 
 
 Radius, and sometimes the ulna, and Bends the thumb, and draws the car- 
 distal phalanx of the thumb. pus thenad. 
 
 Ulnar condyle of the humerus, ulna. Rolls the radius ulnad, or to the 
 
 and radius. prone position. 
 
 Tro/jez/u?;! bone, ligament of the car- Draws the metacarpus and proxi- 
 
 pus, and proximal phalanx of the inal phalanx of the thumb thenad 
 
 thumb. and ulnad. 
 
 Os magnum and unciform bone, tra- Draws the metacarpus of the thumb 
 
 pezium and metacarpal bone of thenad and ulnad. 
 
 the thumb. 
 
 Trapezoid bone, os magnum, unci- Draws the metacarpus and proximal 
 
 form bone, and proximal phalanx phalanx of the thumb ulnad and 
 
 of the thumb. anconad. 
 
 Metacarpal bone of the middle fin- Ditto, 
 ger, and proximal phalanx of the 
 thumb. 
 
 Annular ligament, palmar aponeuro- Draws the little finger ulnad. 
 sis, and metacarpal bone of the 
 little finger. 
 
 Pisiform bone, annular ligament, and Bends the little finger thenad. 
 proximal phalanx of the little fin- 
 ger. 
 
 Unciform bone, ligaments of the Draws the little finger thenad. 
 carpus, and proximal phalanx of 
 the little finger. 
 
 Unciform bone, carpal ligaments 
 and metacarpus of the little fin- 
 ger. 
 
 Draws the little finger radiad and 
 
 thenad. 
 
 Trapezium metacarpus of the thumb. Draws the fore finger thenad. 
 and proximal phalanx of the fore- 
 finger. 
 
 Proximal phalanges of the fingers. Draws the fingers thenad. 
 and tendons of the profundus, and 
 common extensor muscles.
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 751 
 
 J\/c. Mviies and Synonymes. 
 153. Intcrossei externi. 
 
 Sus - mttacarlio - lateri - fihalan- 
 giens. D. 
 
 153. Intcrossei iiitcrni 
 
 Sous - metacarjto -lateri -fi/udan- 
 giens. D. 
 
 XII. Muscles belonging to 
 THE Sacral Extremities. 
 
 154. Psox magni. 
 Pre-tumbo-trochantins. D. 
 
 t55. Iliaci interni. 
 
 Iliaco-trochanlins. D. 
 
 156. Gluteus magnus. 
 
 Gluteus maximus. D. 
 llii-sacro-femoral. D. 
 
 157. Gluteus meditls. 
 lUo-trochanterien. D. 
 PI. XV. Fig. 2. No. 152. 
 
 158. Gluteus minor. 
 Gluteus minimus. I. 
 Illio-iscAii-trochanterie?i. D. 
 
 159. Pyriformis. 
 Sacro-ili-trochanterien. 
 
 1 60. Gemini. 
 
 Ischio-sfiini-trochanterien, D. 
 
 161. Obturator iiiternus. 
 
 Intra-fiehieo-trochanterien. D. 
 
 162. Quadratus femoris. 
 
 Tuber-ischio-trochanterien. D. 
 
 163. Biceps cruris 
 
 Bicefis flexor cruris. I. 
 Iscliio-femoro-lieronier. D. 
 Fig. 2. No. 162. 
 
 Attachments. 
 
 Ditto, and metacarpal 
 bones. 
 
 Direction of Action. 
 
 Functions. 
 
 Draws the fingers the- 
 nad. 
 
 Last dorsal, and all tlie 
 lumbar vertebrae and 
 little trochautcrof the 
 thigh-bone. 
 
 Ilium, sometimes the 
 sacrum within the 
 pelvis, and little tro- 
 chanter of the thigh- 
 bone. 
 
 Spine of the ilium, sa- 
 crum, coccyx, the sa- 
 cro-sciatic ligament, 
 great trochanter, and 
 linea aspcra of the 
 thigh-bone. 
 
 Spine of the ilium, and 
 great trochanter of 
 the thigh-bone. 
 
 Peripheral surface of 
 tiic ilium, and great 
 trochanter of the 
 thigh-bone. 
 
 Peripheral surface of 
 the sacrum, and root 
 of the great trochan- 
 ter. 
 
 Spine and tuberosity of 
 the ischium, and root 
 of the great trochan- 
 ter. 
 
 Central surface of the 
 obturator ligament, 
 ischium, pubis, and 
 root of the great tro- 
 chanter. 
 
 Between the acetabu- 
 lum and the tuberosi- 
 ty of the ischium, and 
 linea aspera of the 
 thigh-bone. 
 
 Tuberosity of the ischi- 
 um, linea aspera of 
 the thigh-bone, fibu- 
 lar part of the proxi- 
 mal exti-emity of the 
 tibia. 
 
 Sacrad and laterad, or 
 atlantad, and mesiad. 
 
 Nearly the same. 
 
 Atlantad and laterad. 
 
 When united, and the 
 thigh-bones fixed, 
 bend the trunk stcr- 
 nad ; separately draw 
 the thigh-bone rotu- 
 lad. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Draws the thigh-bone 
 Jioplitfud, and rolls it 
 fibulad. 
 
 Ditto, and sometimes 
 
 tibiad. 
 Draws the thigh-bone 
 
 fwfilitead, and rolls 
 
 it tibiad. 
 
 Draws the thigh-bone 
 
 Jiojilitead. 
 
 Draws the thigh-bone 
 jiofilitead, and rolls it 
 Jibulad. 
 
 Draws the thigh-bone 
 pojiUtead, and rolls it 
 fibulad. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Draws the thigh-bone 
 poplitead and mesiad, 
 and rolls it fibulad 
 when the leg is ex- 
 tended, and bends the 
 leg.
 
 752 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 .Vo. A''amfs and Sijnonymeg. 
 
 164. Sl initendiiiosus. 
 Jschio-crcd-nbiat. D. 
 Pi. XV. Fig. 2. No. 163. 
 
 165. Scminiembranosiis. 
 Ischio-fiofilili-libkd. D. 
 Pi. XV. Fig. 1. No. 164. 
 
 166. Tensor vagincE f; iiioris 
 Il''j-ct/i'j7ieiirrjiir-fr moral. D. 
 
 Pi. XV. Fig. 1.' No. 159. 
 
 167. 
 
 158. 
 
 R?ctus cruris. 
 
 K<ctu.i. I. 
 
 Iliij-rotvlifn. D. 
 
 Pi. XV. Fig. 1. No. 166. 
 
 Siirlorius. 
 
 Itio-ireti-tibial. D. 
 
 PI. XV. Fig. l.No. 150. 
 
 169. Vastus externus. 
 
 Vastus externus cruralis. I. 
 Tri-fimoro-tibi-rotulien. D. 
 PI. XV. Fig. l.No. 167. 
 
 170. Vastus intcrnus. 
 Tri-fcmoro-tibi-rotulkn. D. 
 PI. "XV. Fig. 1. No. 168. 
 
 171. Cruralis. 
 
 Tri-femoro-tibi-rotuliin. 
 
 D. 
 
 772. Pectincus. 
 
 Feclinatis. 1. 
 Pubeo-frmomt. D. 
 
 173. Adductor longus femoris. 
 Sjiini-jiubco-fcmoral. D. 
 PI. XV. Fig. 1. No.l58. 
 
 174. Adductor brevis femoris. 
 Sons-/iubco-fcnioral. D. 
 
 175. Gracilis. 
 Souf:-fiubeo-crete-femrjral. D. 
 PI. XV. Fig. 1. No. 161. 
 
 176. Obturator externus. 
 Extra-fielvio-liubi-trochanterk?i. 
 
 D, 
 
 177 Adductor magnus femoris. 
 Ischio-pubio-femoral. D. 
 
 178. Gemellus. 
 Gastrocnemhis externus. I. 
 Bi-femoro-culccniien. D. 
 PI.' XV. Fig. 1. No. 171. 
 
 179. Plantaris. 
 Petit-femuro-calcanien. D. 
 
 180. Solcus. 
 
 Gastrocnemius intemus. I. 
 Tihio-fieronri-calcanien, D. 
 PI. XV. Fig. 2. No. 173. 
 
 Attaehmente. 
 Tuberosity of t lie ischium, and tibial 
 side of the proximal head of the 
 tibia. 
 
 Much the same attachments. 
 
 Functi'jnH. 
 
 Draws the thigh-boije fiofditead and 
 and mcsiad, and rolls it libiad when 
 the leg is extended, and bends the 
 leg. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Atlantal spinous process of the ilium, 
 mesial part of tiie facia lata, Pou- 
 parl's ligament, linca aspera of the 
 thigh-bone, crest of the tibia, and 
 the patella. 
 
 Sacral spinous process of the ilium, 
 capsular ligament of the hip-joint, 
 patella and rotular side of the 
 proximal extremity of the tibia. 
 
 Atlantal spinous process of the ilium, 
 and tibial side of the proximal ex- 
 tremity of the tibia, obliquely 
 across the thigh. 
 
 Root of the great trochanter, lima 
 aspera, patell, capsular ligament of 
 the knee-joint, and fibular side of 
 the proximal extremity of the 
 tibia. 
 
 Root of the little trochanter, all the 
 linea aspera to the tibial condyle ; 
 patella and tibial side of the proxi- 
 mal extremity of the tibia. 
 
 Little trochanter, and proximal part 
 of the patella, cenlrud of the rec- 
 tus. 
 
 Sternal part of the pubis, and linea 
 aspera of the thigh-bone near the 
 little trochanter. 
 
 Atlantal and sternal part of the pu- 
 bis, and middle of the linea aspe- 
 ra of the thigh-bone. 
 
 Nearly the same. 
 
 Sternal part of the pubis, and, tibial 
 side of the proximal head of the 
 tibia. 
 
 Peripheral side of the obturator liga- 
 ment, edge of thyroid hole, and 
 fossa between the two trochanters 
 of the thigh-bone. 
 
 Syjn/ihi/sis fiuhis, ramus ischii, whole 
 of the linea aspera, and popliteal 
 side of the tibial condyle of the 
 thigh-bone. 
 
 Popliteal side of the condyles of 
 the thigh-bone, popliteal ligament 
 of the joint, and proximal part of 
 the heel-bone. 
 
 Fibular condyle of the thigh-bone ; 
 pofiliteal side of the capsular liga- 
 ment, and tibial side of the proxi- 
 mal part of the heel-bone. 
 
 Popliteal side of the proximal ex- 
 tremities of the tibia and Jibula, 
 and proximal part of the heel-bone, 
 forming, with No. 178, the lendo 
 Achillis. 
 
 Draws the thigh-bone rotulad 
 and laterad ; occasionally assists, 
 through the intervention of the 
 vagina femoris, both in bending 
 and extending the leg. 
 
 Draws tlie thigh-bone rotulad, and 
 extends the kg. 
 
 Draws the thigh-bone laterad, rolls it 
 libiad, and bends the leg. 
 
 I 
 
 Extends the leg. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Draws the thigh-bone rotulad and 
 7nesiad, 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Draws the thigh-bone rotulad and 
 mesiad, rolls it tibiad, and bends 
 the leg. 
 
 Draws the thigh-bone rotulad and 
 mesiad, and rolls it Jibulad. 
 
 As in the preceding adductors. 
 
 Bends the leg, and extends the foot, 
 or draws it poplitead. 
 
 Bends the leg and extends the foot, 
 or draws it poplitead. 
 
 Ditto.
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 75; 
 
 jVo. JVames and Synonymes. 
 
 181. Popliteus. 
 
 J'^emoro-fiofUilei-tibial. D. 
 
 182. Flexor longus digitorum pedis. 
 Fltxor longus digitorum /ledin firofundus 
 
 fierforans. I. 
 Tibio-fihalangettien commun. D. 
 
 183. Flexor longus poUicis pedis. 
 Peroneo-fihalanginien du gros orceil. D. 
 
 184, Tibialis posticus. 
 Tibio-tarsien. D. 
 
 185. Peroneus longus. 
 
 Tibi-fieroneo-tarsieti. D. 
 PI. XV. Fig. 1. No. 174. 
 
 186. Peroneus brevis. 
 
 Petit fieroneo-sus-metatarsien. D. 
 
 187. Extensor longus digitorum pedis. 
 
 Peroneo-tibi-sus-fihalangettien commun. 
 D. 
 
 188. Peroneus tertius. 
 Grand-fieroneosus-metatarsien. D. 
 
 189. Tibialis anticus. 
 Tibio-sus-metatarsien. D. 
 PI. XV. Fig. 1. No. 170. 
 
 190. Extensor proprius pollicis pedis. 
 Peroneo-sus-phalajigettien dtt fiouce. D. 
 PI. XV. Fig. 1. No. 177, 178. 
 
 191. Extensor brevis digitorum pedis. 
 Calcaneo-sus-fifialangettien commun, D. 
 
 192. Flexor brevis digitorum pedis. 
 
 Plexor brevis digitorum fiedis sublimis per- 
 
 foratus. I. 
 Calc aneo-fihalanginien commun. D. 
 Pl.XV.Fig. 1. No. 186. 
 
 193. Abductor pollicis pedis. 
 Calcaneo-phalangiyiien du fiouce. D. 
 Pl.XV.Fig. 1. No. 182. 
 
 194. Abductor digiti minimi pedis. 
 Calcaneo-Jilialangien du jietit doigt. D. 
 
 195. Flexor brevis pollicis pedis. 
 
 Tarso-fi/ialangien du jiouce. D. 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 AllaclimeiitH. 
 
 Fibular condyle of the thigh-bone; 
 capsular ligament ; fibular semi- 
 lunar cartilage, and tibial edge of 
 the proximal extremity of the ti- 
 bia. 
 
 Popliteal side of the tibia., interosseous 
 ligament, Jibula, and distal pha- 
 langes of the toes. 
 
 Distal half of the popliteal side of the 
 Jibuta, by the inner ankle to the 
 distal phalanx of the great toe. 
 
 Popliteal side of the proximal extre- 
 mity of the tibia; tibial side of the 
 fibula; interosseous ligament ; near- 
 ly all the tarsal bones, and metatar- 
 sus of the third toe. 
 
 Rotular and fibular sides of the Ji- 
 bula ; adjacent part of the tibia, 
 ■vagina femoris ; first cuneiform 
 bone, and metatarsus of the great 
 toe. 
 
 Rotularand fibular sides oftheyf^u/a, 
 and metatarsus of the little toe, 
 through a groove at the outer an- 
 kle, as in the last. 
 
 Fibular side of the proximal extre- 
 mity of the tibia; interosseous liga- 
 ment ; tibial side, and rotular spine 
 oi \.)^e Jibula, and phalanges of the 
 four lesser toes. 
 
 Distal half of the fibular side of the 
 fibula, and metatarsal bone of the 
 little toe. 
 
 Rotular and fibular sides of the proxi- 
 mal extremity of the tibia; interos- 
 seous ligament; tibial cuneiform 
 bone ; and metatarsus of the great 
 toe. 
 
 Distal part of the proximal extremity 
 of the fibula; interosseous and an- 
 nular ligaments, and phalanges of 
 the great toe. 
 
 The heel-bone, connected with the 
 extensor longus, and proximal pha- 
 lanx of the great toe and three lesser 
 toes. 
 
 Plantar and popliteal sides of the 
 heel-bone; and middle phalanges 
 of the four lesser toes, by four 
 tendons that are perforated by 
 the tendons of the fiexor lon- 
 gus. 
 
 Tibial and plantar sides of the heel- 
 bone ; tibial sesamoid bone, and root 
 of the proximal phalanx of the great 
 toe. 
 
 Plantar side of the protuberance of the 
 heel-bone; plantar aponeurosis ;'me- 
 tatarsus and proximal phalanx of the 
 little toe. 
 
 Plantar and rotular sides of the heel- 
 bone ; great cuneiform bone; fibu- 
 lar sesamoid bone, and root of the 
 proximal phalanx of the great toe. 
 
 5 C 
 
 Punctiona. 
 Bends the leg. 
 
 Dravv-s the tarsus rotulad 
 an(\fibulad, and extends 
 the plialanges of the four 
 lesser toes. 
 
 Draws the tarsus fio/tli- 
 tead and tibiad, and 
 bends the great toe /lo/i- 
 litead. 
 
 Draws the tarsus fiofili- 
 tead and tibiad. 
 
 Draws the tarsus fiofib- 
 tead and fibulad, and 
 supports the arch of the 
 foot. 
 
 Draws the tarsus and me- 
 tatarsus of the little toe 
 fiofilitead a.n<i fibulad. 
 
 Draws the tarsus rotulad 
 andfibulad, and extends 
 the phalanges of the 
 toes. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Draws the tarsus rotulad. 
 
 Draws the tarsus rotulad 
 and tibiad, and extends 
 the great toe. 
 
 Extends all the lesser toes 
 except the fifth. 
 
 Bends the four lesser toes 
 
 Draws the great toe /io/i- 
 litead and tibiad. 
 
 Draws the little toe iiofill- 
 tead and fibulad. 
 
 Draws the great toe pofi- 
 
 litead.
 
 754 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 JVo. 
 
 JVames and Synonymes. 
 
 (96. Adcliictor pollicis pedis. 
 
 'J'arso-mctaturni-Jihalangicn (hi fioucc. D. 
 
 197. T ransversus pedis. 
 
 198. Flexor brcvis digili minimi pedis. 
 Metatarso-fihalangitn clu fietit doigt. D. 
 
 199. Lumbricales pedis. 
 Flanli-tcndini-fihalangie7is. D. 
 
 20Q, Interossei externi digitorum pedis. 
 
 Sus-nicCalarso-lateri-fl/mlangiens. D. 
 
 201. Interossei interni digitorum pedis. 
 
 Sous-7netaCarso-tateri-Jihalangiens. D. 
 
 Atta'hmenta. 
 
 Cuboid and tliird cuneiform bones ; 
 
 fibular sesamoid bone, and root 
 
 of the metatarsus of the great 
 
 toe. 
 Tarsal ligament, and tendon of the 
 
 last nuiscle, metatarsi of the great 
 
 and little toes. 
 Metatarsus and proximal phalanx of 
 
 the little toe, and cuboid bone. 
 
 Tendons of the Jlexor longua, and" 
 proximal phalanges of the four less- 
 er toes. 
 
 Between the metatarsal bones con- 
 nected to the tendons of the ex- 
 tensors. 
 
 Ditto. 
 
 Functions. 
 
 Draws the great toe fioft- 
 litcad am\yibulad. 
 
 Draws the great toe _^6«- 
 /«(/, an<l strengthens the 
 arches of the loot. 
 
 Assist in bending the toes, 
 and regulating the ac- 
 tion of other muscles. 
 
 Assist in bending, and 
 sometimes extending, 
 >■ the toes, and in drawing 
 (/i/arf or /f 6 «/arf, accord- 
 ing to their situation. 
 
 I 
 
 The last column of the preceding table expresses the actions only of the individual muscles, exerted either 
 singly, or in pairs; but in the natural motions of the animal body, it scarcely ever happens that one muscle is 
 thrown into action, without being accompanied by several others, which either assist, regulate, or oppose, the ac- 
 tions of the former, and of each other. In considering the actions of the animal body, both with a view to physiologi- 
 cal investigations and practical utility, it is of great consequence to be acquainted with the combined actions of 
 several muscles, to see what muscles assist or antagonize each other, and what unite to produce any given motion. 
 In the following Table, we shall bring together those muscles, by the combined actions of which, the principal mo- 
 tions of the head, neck, trunk, and extremities, are performed in the human body, as enumerated by Dr Barclay 
 in his work On the Muscular Motions.* 
 
 The terms placed at the head of each column in this Table, denote the direction in which the muscles in the 
 torre spending columns act. 
 
 TABLE II.— COMPOUND ACTIONS OF MUSCLES. 
 
 -a 
 
 U 
 
 Sternad by 
 
 Recti capitis interni mi- 
 
 nores. 
 Recti capitis laterales. 
 Latissimi colli. 
 Biventres maxillae. 
 >Sterno-mastoidei. 
 Mylo-hyoidei. 
 Genio-hyoidei. 
 Genio-hyoglossi. 
 Recti capitis interni ma- 
 
 jores. 
 
 Dorsad by 
 
 Recti capitis postici. 
 
 Obliqui capitis superiores. 
 Pare (jf the trapezii. 
 Splenii capitis. 
 Complexi. 
 Trachelo-mastoidei. 
 
 Laterad. 
 
 The head is drawn late- 
 7'ad chiefly by the anta- 
 gonizing muscles in the 
 two preceding columns 
 acting in concert; and 
 ■when any of these mus- 
 cles act singly, the late- 
 ral motion must in some 
 measure take place. 
 
 Rotators of the Head 
 
 are 
 Latissimi colli, — 
 Splenii capitis, 
 Splenii colli. 
 Recti capitis postici ma- 
 
 jores. 
 Obliqui capitis inferiores. 
 Trachelo-mastoidei, — all 
 
 drawing in the dextral 
 
 direction: and 
 Stcrno-mastoidei. 
 Part of the trapezii. 
 Complexi,- 
 
 sinistral direction. 
 
 • We consider the arrangement of the muscles, according to the motions in which they co.operatc, as the most important part 
 of Ur Burclav's woik, as well from its extensive utility in explaining the natural motions of the body, as from its originalitj'. 
 Winslow saw the ini|)Ortance of sucli an arrangement, but the execution of his plan fell very short of what he seems to have pre- 
 lected. Almost al! other anatomists, not excepting the ingenious Bichat, have contented Uiemselves with classing the muscles ac- 
 cording to regions ; a classification, which, however it may assist tlie dissector, can be but of httle use to the physiologist or svr- 
 Scon-
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 '55 
 
 
 
 Stern AD by 
 Latissinii colli. 
 BivL-nlres maxilla;. 
 Mylo-hyoidci. 
 Gcnio-liyoidci. 
 CTcnio-liyoglossi. 
 Coraco-liyoidci. 
 Sunno-hyoitki. 
 Thyro-liyoidei. 
 Sterno-iiiastoidci. 
 Recti capitis iiitcrni nii- 
 
 nores. 
 >Recli capitis lalcralcs. 
 Loiigi colli. 
 Scalciii aiuici. 
 
 DonsAD by 
 
 Partes liapczioi'uni. 
 
 Riiomboiilci niinorcs. 
 
 Scrrati postici supci-io- 
 rcs. 
 
 Spknii capitis. 
 
 S[)lcnii colli. 
 
 Coniplcxi. 
 
 Tracliclo-niastoidci. 
 
 Ccrvicalcs dcscendcntcs. 
 
 I'runsvcrsalcs ccrvicis. 
 
 Spinalcs ccrvicis. 
 
 Scmispiiialcs ccrvicis. 
 
 Mullilidi spinas. 
 
 Recti capitis postici nii- 
 norcs. 
 
 Recti capitis postici nia- 
 jorcs. 
 
 Obliqui capitis supcrio- 
 res. 
 
 Obliqui capitis inferio- 
 res. 
 
 Scaleni postici. 
 
 Lcvatorcs scapulariim. 
 
 L ATI. 11 AD. 
 
 The dcxtral motions ar<- 
 performed by tbc mus- 
 cles on the sternal and 
 dorsal asjiects dc.vlnitl 
 of the mesial line, and 
 the sinixtral motions by 
 those sinimrad of tlu' 
 mesial line acting atth»- 
 same time. 
 
 c 
 
 3 
 
 a. 
 
 7 T3 
 
 o t 
 
 a. 
 u 
 
 Slerxad by 
 
 Pcctoralcs. 
 
 Scrrali antici. 
 
 Scrrati magni. 
 
 Obliqui extcrni abdomi- 
 nis. 
 
 Oliqui interni abdomi- 
 nis. 
 >Transvevsi abdominis. 
 
 Recti abdominis. 
 
 Pyramidales. 
 
 Psoae magni. 
 
 Psoas parvi. 
 
 Atlantad by 
 Part of the Trapezi- 
 us. 
 Levator scapulae. 
 Rhomboidci. 
 
 Dorsad by 
 Trapezii. 
 
 Rhomboidci majorcs. 
 Latissinii dorsi. 
 Scrrati postici superio- 
 
 res. 
 Serrati postici infcriorcs. 
 Sacrolumbales. 
 Longissimi dorsi. 
 Spinalcs dorsi. 
 Semispinales dorsi. 
 Multifidi spinse doi-si at 
 
 lumborum. 
 lutertransversarii dorsi et 
 
 lumborum. 
 Quadrati lumborum. 
 
 Sacrad by 
 Part of the trapezius. 
 Serratus anticus. 
 Pectoralis. 
 Latissinius dorsi. 
 Subclavius. 
 
 IJ 
 
 -a 
 
 "S 
 
 u 
 
 o 
 
 > 
 
 
 o 
 
 s 
 
 3 
 
 ^ 
 
 i-^ 
 
 o 
 
 c; 
 
 
 £ 
 
 -a 
 
 3 
 
 u 
 
 A 
 
 
 U 
 
 
 -C 
 
 
 S-, 
 
 Sternad by 
 Part of the deltoid. 
 Supraspinaius. 
 Infraspinatus. 
 Suliscapularis. 
 Biceps brachii. 
 'Coraco-brachialis. 
 Part of the pecto- 
 ralis. 
 
 c 
 a 
 
 3 
 X. 
 
 u 
 
 Dorsad by 
 -^ Part of the deltoid. 
 I Teres major. 
 Teres minor. 
 Long head of the 
 triceps brachii. 
 >Latissimus dorsi. 
 
 L ATI: HAD by 
 Obliqui extcrni. 
 Obliqui interni. 
 Recti alidoniinis. 
 PsoK magni 
 Psoae parvi. 
 Latissimi dorsi. 
 Scrrati postici. 
 Sacrokmibales. 
 Longissimi dorsi. 
 Quadrati lumborum,- 
 
 when not acting 
 
 /lairs. 
 
 Sternad by 
 Serratus magnus. 
 Serratus anticus. 
 Pectoralis. 
 Levator scapuls. 
 Subclavius. 
 
 Dorsad by 
 Part of the trapezius. 
 Latissimus dorsi. 
 Riioniboidci. 
 
 Mesiad by 
 Part of the pectora- 
 lis. 
 Latissimus dorsi. 
 
 t/i o 
 
 g s 
 
 s ° 
 
 o 
 
 )> 
 
 Mesiad by 
 Serratus anticus. 
 
 Part o/"rAf pectoralis. 
 Latissimus dorsi. 
 Rhomboidci. 
 
 Later AD by 
 
 Serratus magnus. 
 Levator scapulae. 
 
 DoRso-MEsiAD by 
 The trapezius. 
 
 Later AD by 
 % -\ The deltoid. 
 "^ I Supraspinatus. 
 Infraspinatus. 
 Subscapularis. 
 Biceps brachii. 
 ^Coraco-brachialis. 
 
 ■^ -3 
 
 ■-• o 
 
 3 " 
 
 s J 
 
 i J 
 
 5 C ^
 
 756 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 T3 ■ 
 
 H. 
 
 Radiad by 
 Supraspinatus. 
 Infraspinatus. 
 Teres minor. 
 S/uno-sca/iiili'7i /lor- 
 tion of the diiho'uX. 
 '"Coraco-brachialis 
 {slightly, and 
 •!v/ien the humerus 
 hasjirat been roll- 
 ed iitnad.) 
 
 Ulnad by 
 
 Subscapularis. 
 
 Clax'iculen fiortion of the 
 deltoid. 
 
 Pectoralis {alig/illy.^ 
 
 Latissimus dorsi. 
 
 Teres major. 
 
 The three last acting on- 
 ly when the humirus 
 has bee/i rolled radiad. 
 
 a ~1 
 
 J3 
 
 E 
 
 u 
 
 .2 
 
 J5 
 
 3 
 
 Oh 
 
 Thenad by 
 Brachialis inter- 
 
 nus. 
 Biceps brachii. 
 Supinator longus. 
 J>Ulnaris internus. 
 Palmaris longus. 
 Pronator teres. 
 Radialis internus. 
 Sublimis. 
 
 Thenad by 
 
 Radialis internus. 
 
 Ulnaris internus. 
 
 Palmaris longus. 
 
 Sublimis. 
 
 Profundus. 
 
 Flexor longus pollicis. 
 
 Anconad by 
 "g"^ Triceps brachii. 
 g Anconeus. 
 
 T3 
 
 a 
 
 o 
 
 Ancoxad by 
 Radialis externus longior. 
 Radialis externus brevior. 
 Extensor major pollicis. 
 Indicator. 
 Extensor communis digi- 
 
 torum. 
 Extensor proprius digiti 
 
 auricularis. 
 
 
 Ulnad by 
 
 
 Radiad by 
 
 
 Pronator teres. 
 
 1 ^ 
 
 Biceps brachii. 
 
 £t5 
 
 Pronator quadra- 
 
 .5 
 
 Supinator brevis. 
 
 CL.U 
 
 tus. 
 
 -1 
 
 Extensor major 
 
 3 ' 
 
 Palmaris longus. 
 
 
 pollicis. 
 
 >Radialis internus. 
 
 3 e 
 
 > 
 
 ■-2 ° 
 
 Sublimis. 
 
 1° 
 
 
 2-a 
 
 
 - -c 
 
 
 «£ 
 
 
 4> •" 
 
 
 .e 
 
 
 X 
 
 
 H J 
 
 
 H , 
 
 
 Radiad by 
 
 Ulnad by 
 
 Abductor longus pollicis. 
 
 Ulnaris externus. 
 
 Extensor minor pollicis. 
 
 Extensor proprius minimi 
 
 Radialis externus longior. 
 
 digiti. 
 
 Radialis externus brevior. 
 
 Extensor communis digi- 
 
 Radialis internus. 
 
 torum. 
 
 
 Ulnaris internus. 
 
 
 Sublimis. 
 
 
 
 Profundus. 
 
 I 
 
 Thenad by 
 .2 "^ Abductor longus poUi- 
 g-a cis. 
 
 § g ! Abductor brevis. 
 ■£ § j Opponens pollicis. 
 
 I Flexor longus pollicis. 
 
 Anconad by 
 Adductor pollicis. 
 Flexor brevis pollicis. 
 Extensor minor pollicis. 
 
 Radiad by 
 Abductor longus. 
 Abductor brevis. 
 Extensor minor. 
 Part of the flexor brevis. 
 
 J Abductor indicis. 
 
 Ulnad by 
 Opponens pollicis. 
 Abductor brevis. 
 Adductor pollicis. 
 Flexor brevis. 
 Extensor major. 
 
 c 
 u 
 
 iti o 
 — • G 
 O S 
 
 Thenad by 
 
 Sublimis. 
 Profundus. 
 Lumbricales. 
 Interossei. 
 I Abductor indicis. 
 Flexor brevis digiti mi- 
 nimi 
 
 T3 
 
 -a 
 c 
 u 
 
 "I 
 
 3 
 
 = J 
 
 Anconad by 
 Extensor commu- 
 nis digitorum. 
 Indicator. 
 Extensor proprius 
 digiti minimi. 
 
 c3 
 u 
 "O 
 4) 
 
 5 
 
 g 
 
 O 
 
 o 
 
 u 
 
 s 
 
 o 
 73, 
 
 Radiad by 
 
 Abductor indicis. 
 Adductor metacarpi. 
 
 digiti minimi. 
 Interossei. 
 
 S 
 
 Ulnad by 
 Abductor digiti mi- 
 nimi. 
 Interossei. 
 
 o
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 757 
 
 T3' 
 
 o 
 
 e 
 
 c 
 
 a 
 o 
 
 
 SXERWADby 
 
 Sartorius. 
 
 Gracilis. 
 
 Tensor vaginae. 
 
 Pect'meus. 
 
 The three adductors. 
 
 Iliacus internus. 
 
 Psoas magnus. 
 
 Obturator externus. 
 
 Gluteus minor. 
 
 o 
 S 
 
 
 60 
 
 u 
 
 ^1 
 
 POPLITEAD by 
 
 Gracilis. 
 Sartorius. 
 Semitendinosus. 
 Semimembranosus. 
 Biceps cruris. 
 >Gemellus. 
 Plantaris. 
 Popliteus. 
 Tensor vaginae. 
 Gluteus magnus. 
 
 -a 
 c 
 
 
 c 
 o 
 
 Si 
 !>0 
 
 Dorsad by 
 
 Gluteus magnus. 
 
 J'art of gluteus mcdi- 
 us. 
 
 Pyriformis. 
 
 Obturator internus. 
 
 Gemini. 
 >Quadratus femoris. 
 
 Part o/" adductor mag- 
 nus. 
 
 Long head of the bi- 
 ceps cruris. 
 
 Semitendinosus. 
 
 Semimembranosus. 
 
 TiBiAD by 
 Tensor vaginae. 
 Part of gluteus me- 
 
 dius. 
 Gluteus minor, and 
 
 when the leg is ex- 
 ^ tended, by 
 Sartorius. 
 Gracilis. 
 Semitendinosus. 
 
 HJ 
 
 o 
 
 
 T3 
 
 
 u 
 
 
 ■X3 
 
 
 s 
 
 
 s 
 
 c 
 
 X 
 
 > 
 
 03 
 
 rt 
 
 r/i 
 
 u 
 
 
 -o 
 
 'ba 
 
 
 _« 
 
 
 o 
 
 
 A 
 
 
 fH 
 
 J 
 
 ROTULAD by 
 
 "^ Rectus cruris. 
 Vastus internus. 
 Vastus externus. 
 Cruralis. 
 >Tensor vaginae. 
 Gluteus uaagnus. 
 
 -a 
 
 -a 
 
 u 
 
 u 
 
 3 
 
 ■a 
 
 Mesxad by 
 The three adductors. 
 Pcclincus. 
 Quadralus femoris. 
 Ciracilis. 
 Semitendinosus. 
 Semimembranosus. 
 >Long head of biceps 
 cruris. 
 Obturator externus. 
 Psoas magnus. 
 Iliacus internus. 
 
 u 
 o 
 
 3 
 Si 
 
 Latkhad by 
 Tensor vaginx. 
 The three glutei. 
 Pyriformis. 
 Sartorius. 
 
 Obturator internus. 
 Gemini. 
 
 FiBULAD by 
 Gluteus magnus. 
 Part oy gluteus medius. 
 Pyriformis. 
 Gemini. 
 
 Obturator internus. 
 Obturator externus. 
 Quadratus femoris. 
 Iliacus internus. 
 Psoas magnus. 
 The three adductors. 
 Biceps cruris slightly. 
 
 RoTULAD by 
 
 Tibialis anticus. 
 Extensor longus digl- 
 
 torum. 
 Extensor proprius pol- 
 licis. 
 g Peroneus tertius. 
 5 
 
 POPLITEAD by 
 
 >Gemellus. 
 Soleus. 
 Plantaris. 
 Flexor longus digito- 
 
 rum pedis. 
 Flexor longus pollicis 
 
 pedis. 
 Tibialis posticus. 
 Peroneus longus. 
 Peroneus brevis. 
 
 Si 
 
 H 
 
 TiBiAD by 
 
 Tibialis posticus. 
 Extensor proprius. 
 Flexor longus digito- 
 
 rum pedis. 
 Flexor longus pollicis 
 
 pedis. 
 
 FiBULAD by 
 
 Peroneus longus. 
 Peroneus brevis. 
 Peroneus tertius. 
 Extensor longus digi- 
 torum pedis. 
 
 J 
 
 •a 
 
 u 
 o 
 
 a 
 o 
 
 Si 
 
 POULITEAD by 
 
 
 RoTULAD 
 
 by 
 
 
 TiBiADby 
 
 
 Flexor brevis pollicis 
 
 c' 
 
 Extensor longus digi- 
 
 £1 
 
 Abductor pollicis pe- 
 
 2 
 
 pedis. 
 
 1 
 
 torum pedis. 
 
 
 1 
 
 dis. 
 
 ■V 
 
 Flexor longus pollicis 
 
 
 Extensor brevis digi- 
 
 -0 
 
 Interossei. 
 
 
 pedis. 
 
 o 
 
 torum pedis 
 
 
 2 
 
 
 g 
 
 Abductor pollicis pe- 
 
 Extensor proprius pol- 
 
 a 
 
 
 s 
 
 dis. 
 
 
 licis pedis. 
 
 
 4> 
 
 > 
 
 ■5 
 
 Adductor pollicis pe- 
 
 a 
 
 >Interossei occasionally. 
 
 :S 
 
 
 o 
 
 dis. 
 
 X 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 
 i 
 
 'Sublimis. 
 
 u 
 
 
 
 «> 
 
 
 Profundus. 
 
 g 
 
 
 
 
 
 iW 
 
 Lumbricales. 
 
 
 
 
 (fl 
 
 
 
 Interossei. 
 
 j3 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Flexor brevis digiti 
 
 H, 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 minimi. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Abductor digiti mini- 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ixii. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 FiBULAD by 
 
 Adductor pollicis pg- 
 
 dis. 
 Abductor digiti mini- 
 mi pedis. 
 >Interossei.
 
 ■58 
 
 ANATOi\tY. 
 
 The morbid appearances that arc observed to liave 
 taken place in the bony system, respect either tlieir ex- 
 ternal form, or their intimate structure. 
 
 1. Bones arc often found bent or distorted in various 
 degrees and directions; generally in consequence of 
 rickets. They arc found enlarged in some parts, which 
 usually happens in cases of fracture, where the broken 
 parts are united by a new bony secretion called callus. 
 They are often seen with excrescences on their surface ; 
 these are called nodes, exostoses, isfc. and are a common 
 consequence of virulent venereal complaints, though 
 they sometimes arise from blows and other accidental 
 injuries. 
 
 2. The surface of bones is frequently seen roughened, 
 or as it were covioded, part of the bony matter being 
 lost; an appearance called fm-Zcs. Sometimes the bones 
 are found soft and spongy, or even ligamentous or mem- 
 branous, having lost their osseous matter almost en- 
 tirely; the consequence of os;co-.5arfora«. (See Boyer 
 on the Diseases of the Bones.) In a few instances, the 
 body of the bone, though solid, has lost its vitality, 
 and its connection with the bones to which it was for- 
 merly attached, and remains loose within a bony case, 
 formed by an ossification of the periosteum, as in ne- 
 crosis. 
 
 The joints are sometimes found stifl'ened and im- 
 moveable, the two bones having grown together by 
 the intervention of callus ; an appearance called anchy- 
 losis. 
 
 The tendons, and sometimes other parts of the mus- 
 cles are occasionally seen ossi/icd, ruptured, corroded, 
 isfc. 
 
 On the anatomy of the Bones, See Albinus de Ossihus 
 Corporis Humani; Monro's Anatomy of the Human Bones; 
 Chesseldeu's Osteografihia; Bichat's Anatomic Generate, 
 torn. 3. and his Anatomie Descriptive, torn. i. with the 
 figures of Albinus and Chesselden, or those of Loder. 
 On the ligaments. See Weichtbrecht's Syndesmologia, 
 and 'R\c\\».\. Anatomic Generate, lom. 3. and Anatomic De- 
 scriptive, tom. 1. On the synovial bags. See Monro on 
 the Bursee Mucoscc, and Bichat Anatomic Generate, tom. 
 4 ; and on the muscles. See Albinus de Muscutis; Wins- 
 low's Anatomy by Douglas, vol. I.; Innes and Dou- 
 glas on the Muscles; Bichat Anatomic Generate, tom. 
 3.; and Barclay o)i the Muscular Motions of the Hu- 
 man Body; with the plates of Cowper, Albinus, and 
 Loder. 
 
 Explanation of Plate XIII. 
 
 Fig. 1. Represents a longitudinal section of the thigh 
 H^one, to show the difference between the hard solid ex- 
 tremities and sides and the spongy cancellated structure 
 of the internal part that contains the marrow. 
 
 B'ig. 2. One of the parietal bones of a foetus, showing 
 the progress of ossification from the centre, which is 
 already become solid bone, to the circumference, v/hich 
 still consists of loosely connected bony fibres, issuing 
 like rays from the centre. 
 
 Fig. 3. Exhibits a front X'iew of t lie human skeleton. 
 
 1. The frontal bone; 2, the right parietal bone; 3, 
 the right temporal bone ; 4, its mastoid process ; 5, its 
 zygomatic process; 6, 7, 8,9, the basilar maxilla; 6, its 
 coronoid process; 7, 8, its ramus ; 8, 9, its base; 9, the 
 symphysis uniting the two parts; 10, the coronal max- 
 illa; 11, 12, the cheek-bones; 13, the cervical vertebrae; 
 14, the first true rib; 15, the first false rib ; 16, the first 
 
 lumbar vertebra ; 17, os sacrum; 18, 19,20, os innomi- 
 ruitum ; \ii,ositei; \9, os /lubis ; 20, os ischii ; 21, clavi- 
 cle or collar bone; 22, '23, 24, scapula, or blade bone; 
 22, its neck ; 23, acromion process ; 24, coracoid pro- 
 cess; 2 J, Humerus ; 26, its head ; 27, its neck ; 28, 29,^ 
 articulating surfaces; 30, internal condyle; 31,52, ra- 
 dius; 33, 34, ulna, (/'or the continuation of the stries, 
 see Fig. 5.) 63, The thigh bone; 64, its great trochan- 
 ter ; (>i,\\.s%nvi\\ trochanter ; 66, its tibial condyle ; 67, 
 its fibular condyle; 68, the patella, or knee-pan; 69, 
 \\\e. tibia ; 70, 71, its head, **, interarticular cartilage; 
 72, protuberance for insertion of the tendon of the rec- 
 tus fmoris muscle ; 74, 75, fibula. {For the remainder 
 of the series, see Fig. 6.) The figures of the left hand 
 refer to the bones of the wrist, for which see Fig. 5. 
 
 Fig. 4. Kxhibits a back vierj of Ijie skeleton. 
 
 1, 1, Situation of the coronal suture; 2, 2, parietal 
 bones, with the sagittal suture between them; 3,5,6,8, 
 the right temporal bone; 3, its squamous part ; 5, its 
 zygomatic process; 8, its mastoid process; 4, the right 
 clieek bone ; 7, part of the lambdoidal suture connec ■ 
 ing the parietal bones with the occipital bone ; 9, 9, the 
 atlas, articulating with 10, the occipital bone; 1 1, the 
 basilar maxilla; 12, the lowest vertebra of the neck; 
 13, the last vertebra of the back ; 14* the fourth verte- 
 bra of the loins; 15, os sacrum ; 16, os coccygis ; 17, 
 spine of the illium ; 18, sacro-ischiatic notch ; 19, ossa 
 ischii ; 20, thyroid hole ; 21, the first true rib ; 22, the 
 first, 23, the last false rib ; 24, the collar bones ; 25, 
 blade bone ; 26, its spine ; 27, its acromion ; 28, shoul- 
 der bone; 29, its head; 30, 31, its condyles ; 52, 33, 
 radius; oi, ulna ; 35, \t.% olecranon process. (See Fig. 5,) 
 a, a, the metatarsal bones of the thumb and fingers ; b, 6, 
 their first phalanges ; c, c, their second phalanges ; d, 
 Xhird phata7iges of the fingers. 
 
 64, Thigh bone ; 65, its neck ; 66, its great, and 67, 
 its little trochanter ; 68, its fibular, and 69, its tibial 
 condyle ; 70, 71, 72, tibia; 74, 15, fibula; (See Fig. 6.) 
 
 Fig. 5. An enlarged ojittine sketch of the bones of the 
 hand, forming a continuation of the series of numbers in 
 Fig. 4. 
 
 52, The lower or distal extremity of the radius; 34, 
 the styliform process of the ulna ; 36, navicular bone of 
 the wrist ; 37, lunated bone ; 38, cuneiform bone ; 39, 
 pisiform bone ; 40, trapezial bone ; 41, trapezoid bone ; 
 44, the metacarpal bone of the thumb ; 45, 46, 47, 48, 
 metacarpal bones of the fingers; 50, 51, bones of the 
 thumb ; 52 — 63, bones of the fingers. 
 
 Fig. 6. An enlarged outline sketch of the bones of the 
 ankle and foot, in ivhich the series of numbers is continued 
 from Fig. 3. 
 
 73, Distal extremity of the tibia, forming the inner 
 ankle ; 76, distal extremity of the fibula, forming the 
 outer ancle ; 77, Astragalus; 78, heel bone; 79, navi- 
 cular bone; 80, cuboid bone; 81, 82, 83, cuneiform 
 bones ; 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, metacarpal bones of tlie toes ; 
 89 — 102, bones of the toes. 
 
 Explanation or Plate XIV. 
 
 Fig. 1. A view of the shoulder joint on the left side, 
 the scapula being seen from its sternal or interior surface. 
 
 A, B, C, D, E, the scapula, or blade-bone ; A, B, the 
 side called its base ; B, C, its inferior costa ; D, A, its 
 superior costa ; D, its coracoid process ; E, the acro- 
 mion ; a, b, two depressions for lodging the subscapular 
 muscles ; F, a part of the left collar bone ; G, the left
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 759 
 
 shoulder bone ; H, the capsular ligament of the joint ; 
 K, L, liie insertion of tlie glenoid ligament roinid the 
 glenoid cavity. 
 
 Fig. 2. Exiulnts a front viciv of thf knee joint on titc 
 left side, with the cu/isii/ar titfumcnt cut away, and the 
 fialclla turned down, lo ahrw the interior of the joint. 
 
 A, B, tiie coiKlyles of the ihigli hone ; C, the proxi- 
 mal extremity ot tiie tibia ; D, the proximal extremity 
 of the fibula ; E, the articular surface of the patella ; F, 
 G, parts of the tendon of tlie rectus cruris muscle, form- 
 ing at F one of the ligaments of the joint ; II, K, tlie se- 
 milunar cartilages ; L, M, the oblique or crucial liga- 
 ments ; N, O, P, Q, remains of the capsular or synovial 
 ligament. 
 
 Fig. 3. Refiresents a view of the diajihrai^m on that 
 Me whicli is next the bowels. 
 
 A, a section of the ensiform cartilage of the sternum ; 
 B, one of the dorsal veitebrse ; 6, 7, the two lowest true 
 rii)s ; 8 — 12, the false ribs ; C, C, tendinous parts of the 
 dia/thrugin ; D, D, bundles ot lleshy fibres ; E, E, crura 
 of the diaphragm ; F, the hole through which the infe- 
 rior ve7ia cava passes; G, an oblong hole through which 
 the gullet descends ; n, the trunk of the descending 
 aorta giving oft' at this place, /> the snjirrior mesenteric 
 artery, c, d, the renal arteries, and c, the cocliac artery. 
 
 Fig. 4. lixhibits a view of the muscles of the human, 
 body, as they a/i/iear in the usual reclining- /losture ofslce/i 
 those muscles being most contracted thai Jierform the flex- 
 ions of the limbs. 
 
 The names of the several muscles represented in this 
 figure may be readily seen from the explanation of the 
 next plate. 
 
 Figs. 5 and 6. Exhibit two views of the larynx, and 
 part of the tracliea or windjiipe. 
 
 A, the OS hyoides i a, a, its cartilaginous appendages ; 
 B, thyroid cartilage ; 6 b, its principal processes joined 
 to the cartilages of the os hyoides ; C, the cricoid car- 
 tilage ; D, the cartilaginous rings of the trachea ; (/, the 
 membranous part of that tube next the gullet ; E, the 
 epiglottis in its ordinary position ; F, the tips of the ary- 
 tenoid cartilages ; 1, arytenoidisi muscles ; 2, 2, crico-ary- 
 terioidai muscles; 3, thyro-arytenoid.fi muscles; i,aryte- 
 no-e/iigtotlidcei muscles ; one of the arytenoidxi muscles 
 drawn out of its place ; 6, one of the crico-arytenoidei 
 muscles in similar circumstances. 
 
 Explanation of Plate XV. 
 
 Fig. 1. Refiresents a front view of thf external mus- 
 cles of the human body. 
 
 In the head and neck. 
 
 17, The frontal portion of the efiicranius muscle ; 19, 
 19, the 6!ifrmi;/or muscles ; 21, levator labii su/ierioris ; 
 27, orbicularis fial/i( brurum ; 44, the sternohyoidei mus- 
 cles; 45, 45, coraro-hyoidei ; 66, the left temporal mus- 
 cle ; 67, the left masseter ; 68, a part of the right biven- 
 ter, or digastric ; 72, serratus anticus ; 74, scalenus an- 
 ticus. 
 
 In the trunk. 
 
 1. External oblique muscle of the abdomen ; 3, 4, the 
 two sides of the recti muscles; 107, 107, the pectoral 
 muscles. 
 
 In the atlantal extremities. 
 
 108. The deltoid muscle of tnc left arm; 116, bicfis 
 brachiii 117, brachialis inttrnus ; 121 (in each arm) Jial- 
 
 maris longus ; 123, (in each arm) sublimis or fierforatus; 
 lol, (in tlic right hand) abductor digiii minimi ; 133, (in 
 each hand) abductor brevis fioUcis ; 134, flexor brevis 
 fiollicis, (most distinct in the right hand;) 139, (in the 
 left arm) radialis internus ; 141, (in the right arm) ra- 
 diulis cxternus ; 143, firoyialor teres; 144, (most distinct 
 ill the left arm) su/iinator lont^us. 
 
 In the sacral extremities. 
 
 158, (In the right thigh) adductor femoris ; 159, (in 
 the left thigh) tensor vagina Jemoris, 160, sartorius ; 
 161, (in the left thigh) gracilis; 166, rectus femoris on 
 the left side; 167, vastus externus, and \(t&, vastus in- 
 ter mis ; 170, tibialis anticus, of the left leg; 171, gemc- 
 lus or gastrocne?nius of the right leg ; 174, Jieroneus lon- 
 gus ; 177, 178, extensores fiollicis fiedis, all on the left 
 leg ; 1 82, abductor /lollicis /ledis ; 1 86, flexor brevis digi- 
 torum /ledis, or /ictforatus. 
 
 Fig. 2. Ke/iresents the firincifial external muscles of 
 the human body, on a baek view. 
 
 Head and neck. 
 
 17, The occipital belly of the efiicranius ; 18, attollens 
 auriculam of the left side; 81, 81, /ra/iezius or cuculla- 
 ri.\ ; 88, sfilcnius cafiiiis of the left side ; 94, sterno-mas- 
 toideus. 
 
 Trunk. 
 
 1 13, 123, Latissimus dorsi, of each side. 
 
 Jltlantal extremities. 
 
 108. Deltoid of the right shoulder; 110, infrasfiina- 
 tus i 111, teres minor, and 112, teres wayc/r of the same 
 side; 118, tricefis brachii ; 120, anconeus; 126, extensor 
 communis digit orum ; 130, extensor digiti minimi; 136, 
 abductor longus fiollicis; 142, radialis internus; (141, 
 as in Fig. I.) 
 
 Sacral extremities. 
 
 152, Gluteus medius ; 162, bicefis cruris; 163, semi- 
 tendinosus ; 164, semimembranosus; \73, soleus ; (158, 
 151, and 171, as in F'ig. 1.) 
 
 The two figures of Plate XIV. and that in Plate XVII. 
 are intended for the purpose of assisting painters, sta- 
 tuaries and similar artists, in executing those pieces 
 that represent the human body in action, as the muscles 
 in these figures are represented in the state in which 
 they would appear in those actions of the body which 
 the figures are supposed to be exerting. The first 
 figure of Plate XV'I. is leaning with force upon a stafT, 
 with which he seems about to make a leap. The second 
 figure appears to be writhing his whole body through 
 extreme pain ; and the figure in Plate XVII. is wring- 
 ing a cloth with all his strength, and thus throwing a 
 great number of muscles into action, particularly the 
 flexor muscles of the arms, and extensor nmsclcs of 
 the legs. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Of the Okgaxs &/" Sensation. 
 
 The organs subservient to the functions of sensation, 
 are either general, or fiarliciilar. The general organs 
 constitute what is called the nervous system, compre- 
 hending the brain, the sfiinal marrow, and the nen<es ; 
 the particular organs are those of the external senses, 
 or tlie organs oi feeling, lasting, smelling, hearing, and 
 seeing.
 
 7-60 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 Sect. I. — Of the JVervoua System. 
 
 If the hairy scalp that covers the skull be dissected 
 away, so as to allow a cut to be made with a saw througli 
 \i\c/rojitci/, fiarietat, and ocdjiital bones, just above the 
 orbits and the ears, — and if we then attempt to separate 
 the bony arch from the purls within we sliall find con- 
 siderable resistance. On carefully removhig the bones, 
 we perceive a strong, thick, shining membrane, well 
 supplied with arteries, which are seen running across- 
 it on either side. This is one of the membranes, or me- 
 ninges, that invest the brain, and it is called by anatomists 
 the dura mater. It lines the whole arch, and a great 
 part of the base of the skull ; and contains within its 
 doublings several cavities, or membranous canals, cal- 
 led sinuses. One of these, called the suficrior longitu- 
 
 riu7n cerebelli; and a middle lobe, lyingf between these, 
 and resimg chiefly on the petrous portion of the tem- 
 poral bone. The surface of the central part, between 
 the two hemispheres, is called corfius callrjuum, (see 
 Plate XVIII. Fig. 1 . N. N.) ; from its being harder than 
 most other parts of the cerebral mass. The whole sub- 
 stance of the cerebrum is distinguished into two parts, 
 differing much in their colour and general appearance ; 
 the cineritious substance forming the peripheral portion 
 of the cerebrum, which is of a reddish gray colour, and 
 the medullary substance forming the central portion, of 
 a bluish white colour, and generally of a softer consist- 
 ence. 
 
 The appearance of the internal structure of the cere- 
 brum is different, according as we examine it by a per- 
 pendicular or a horizontal section. We shall here de- 
 
 dinal sinus, runs lengthwise from opposite the root of scribe it chiefly as it appears in the latter case ; referring 
 
 the nose, along the sagittal suture initid ; and, from its 
 attachment to that suture, formed the chief part of the 
 resistance experienced in removing the bones. If a 
 slit be now made with a pair of scissars all round, in the 
 course of the former cut with the saw, through the du- 
 ra mater, so that this membrane may be turned back on 
 each side towards the longitudinal sinus, it will be found 
 strongly adhering at this part, and prolonged into a 
 dense perpendicular plate, that, descending centrally, 
 divides the brain, which has now been brough into view, 
 into two lateral parts, or hendsfikeres. This vertical plate 
 of the dura mater is called the/a/x, from its supposed 
 resemblance to a reaping hook ; and it extends glabcl- 
 lad to the crista galli of the ethmoid bone, and iniad to 
 the inial or posterior verge of the great occiftital hole, 
 leaving in the middle an oval space for the central part 
 of the brain. Towards the base of the skull there are 
 other sinuses; especially one on each side, between the 
 occipital bone, called the inferior longitudinal sinus. 
 These sinuses meet in what is called torcular Hero- 
 JxhiU. 
 
 Immediately within the dura mater, and adhering 
 closely to the brain, there is a very fine transparent mem- 
 brane called tiia mater, through which are easily per- 
 ceived the convolutions of the brain, that are closely in- 
 vested by it. What is properly called the pia mater, and 
 which enters between the convolutions of the brain, is 
 separated from the dura mater by a still more delicate 
 membrane, called membrana arachnoidea. The pia ma- 
 ter is every where traversed by numerous blood-vessels, 
 so as to appear as if composed of them. 
 
 The whole brainy mass within the skull is commonly 
 called encephalon, and is distinguished into several por- 
 tions, viz. cerebrum, or brain properly so called ; cerebel- 
 lum, or little brain ; and medulla oblongata. The cerebrum 
 is that portion which occupies the whole coronal and fron- 
 tal parts of the skull, and a great part of the occipital 
 portion ; the cerebellum rests on the basilar part of the 
 occipital bone, and is separated from the cerebrum by a 
 fold of the dura mater, called, tentorium cerebelli; the 
 medulla oblongata forms a projection in the central part 
 of the base of the encephalon, filling up the great oc- 
 cipital hole, and may be considered as the commence- 
 ment of the spinal marrow. All these are composed of 
 
 the reader for views of the former section to the plates 
 of Monro on the nervous system, and on the brain, the 
 eye, and the ear, and to those of Vicq D'Azyr, in his 
 splendid work. Trade d' Anatomic et de Physiologic. 
 
 On cutting away all that part of the hemispheres of 
 the brain that lies on a level with the corfiiis callosum, 
 and dissecting this carefully downwards, we find it to be 
 of considerable thickness, and we see that it terminates 
 in a portion that is less dense, and is called se/itum luci- 
 dum, (Plate XVIII. Fig. I.O.); and on each side of 
 this we find two places where the substance of the cere- 
 brum admits of a separation, without destroying its con- 
 tinuity. There is an evident cavity on each side the sejitum 
 lucidum ; and these cavities, or separations, are called 
 the lateral ventricles of the brain, (see Fig. 2. E, E.) 
 They lie in a curved direction, running forwards to the 
 anterior part of the corpus callosum, and centrally back- 
 ward toward the cerebellum. In the middle of what may 
 be termed the floor of these ventricles, the seftlum luci- 
 dum terminates in a part nearly as dense as the corpus 
 callosum, called fornix, or vault, from its arched form, 
 (Fig. 1. P.) The fornix is not united to the floor of the 
 ventricles in its middle part, so that here there is a 
 communication between them. In the anterior part of 
 each lateral ventricle, is an eminence of a cineritious 
 colour, and striated appearance. These are called cor- 
 pora striata, (Fig. 2. I, I.) Behind these lie two other 
 eminences, called thalami nervorum ofiticorum, (Fig. 2. 
 K, K.) which are white on their external surface, and 
 darker centrally. Upon these lie two long vascular 
 bodies, (L, L.) running in a winding course from the 
 posterior part of each ventricle, to a hole in the part 
 where they meet anteriorly, through which they pass 
 downwards. These are called plexus choroides, and 
 consist of a number of small blood-vessels, closely woven 
 together into a sort of cord. In the lower and interior 
 parts of each lateral ventricle there is a cur\'ed medul- 
 lary prolongation, arising from the inial extremity of the 
 corpus callosum, where it runs laterad, then glabellad, 
 and at last terminates at the inial extremity of the ven- 
 tricles. This has been called cornu Ammonis, or pes 
 hippocampi. 
 
 At the anterior and posterior parts of the fornix, there 
 are medullary substances that appear to support the 
 
 a soft pulpy matter, disposed into various convolutions fornix, and are therefore called its pillars. Of these 
 and protuberances, and interspersed with other parts of the two posterior pillars (H, H, Fig. 2.) are separated 
 rather a more solid consistence. farther from each other than the anterior ; and indeed 
 Each hemisphere of the cerebrum is divided into three these latter are so nearly contiguous, that they are some- 
 lobes, — an anterior lobe, resting on the orbital plate of times described as one. 
 tlie frontal bone ; a posterior lobe, resting on the tento- Between the thalami of the optic nerves there is a
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 761 
 
 depression, where ihc thalami admit of being separated ; 
 and we find in this place another cavity called the third 
 TjenD-iclf of the brain. Just behind the anterior pillars 
 of \.hti fornix, on the fore part of the joining of the Jilcxnn 
 chornides, there is generally found an oval hole, which 
 forms a communication both between the two lateral 
 ventricles, and between these and the third ventricle.* 
 There is also a passage from this third ventricle, form- 
 ed by a funnel-shaped medullary tube, called infundibu- 
 lum, leading to a roundish, dark-coloured body on the 
 base of the brain, that lies in the sella turcica of the 
 sphenoid bone, and is called the fiituitcn-y gland. The 
 two hemispheres of the brain are, as it were, bound to- 
 gether by two transverse medullary chords, called com- 
 missures, one anterior, and the other fwstcrior, at the cor- 
 responding extremities of the corjius catlosum. 
 
 The cerebellum is divided into two lobes, one of which 
 lies in each of the upper cavities of the occipital bone 
 that are separated by the interior crucial ridge. The 
 cerebellum is generally of a firmer consistence than the 
 cerebrum. It is, however, formed of the same cineri- 
 tious and medullary parts, though the arrangement of 
 these is rather different from what is seen in the cere- 
 brum ; for when we make a perpendicular section in one 
 of the lobes of the cerebellum, we perceive the medul- 
 lary part asuming an arborescent form ; and this ap- 
 pearance has been called arbor vitte, (see Fig. 1. f") 
 Within the substance of the cerebellum there is also a 
 cavity called the fourth ventricle, which communicates 
 with the third ventricle, by a passage that has been cal- 
 led the aqueduct of Sylvius, or sometimes iter a tertio 
 ad cjuartum ventrieulum. At the bottom of the fourth 
 ventricle there is an angular depression, something in 
 the shape of a pen ; and it has therefore been called 
 calamus scrijitorius. The two lobes of the cerebellum 
 are united by a medullary part, c2.\\c(kvermiform /irocess ; 
 and between them runs a prolongation of the falx of the 
 dura mater, here caUed falx cerebelli. Over the passage 
 between the third and fourth ventricles, there is a sort of 
 medullary bridge ; and just before this are situated four 
 medullary eminences, that are now generally called 
 corpora, or tubercula cjuadrigemina. A vertical section 
 of these is seen at c, d. Fig. 1. Immediately above 
 these, and behind the thalami of the optic nerves, lies the 
 pineal gland, 7^, so long celebrated as being the sup- 
 posed seat of the soul. The corpora cjuadrigemina and 
 the pineal gland properly belong to the cerebrum ; but 
 their situation is better understood, after having des- 
 cribed the rest of the encephalon. 
 
 On examining the encephalon on the surface next the 
 base of the skull, we find it much more unequal than on 
 its coronal surface, especially in its middle and poste- 
 rior lobes. At the back part we observe the inferior 
 surface of the lobes of the cen bcllum, D, Fig. 3., which 
 are here marked with concentric streaks. In the mid- 
 dle we see several protuberances, forming parts of the 
 medulla oblongata, E, F, G ; and a little before these 
 
 eminences we observe the union of the optic nerves, K. 
 
 The medulla oblongata is situated between the lobes 
 of the cerebellum, and the middle lobes of the brain, 
 from which latter it is separated by a medullary part, 
 streaked transversely, called pons varolii, or tuber an- 
 nulare, E, Plate XVIII Fig. 3. It is broadest at the 
 base, and gradually contracts, so as to form a sort of bulb, 
 marked with a longitudinal furrow in the middle, and 
 another on each side. These furrows divide it into 
 eminences, called corjiora pyratnidalia, II, and corfiora 
 olivaria, I. That part of the medulla oblongata which is 
 below these bodies, is called its cauda, or tail. Between 
 the fto?is varolii, and the s\ibstance of the cerebrum, 
 there are two medullary portions, streaked longitudinally, 
 one of which is seen at F. These are called the crura 
 of the modulla oblongata ; and between tliem are two 
 roundish white bodies, L, called corpora alhicantia. Im- 
 mediately before these lies the pineal gland. That 
 part of the medulla oblongata which is called tuber 
 annulare, is formed by medullary productions, both 
 from the hemispheres of the cerebrum, and the lobes 
 of the cerebellum, called crura of the cerebrum and 
 cerebellum ; and it is chiefly through this medium that 
 they are united. 
 
 The spinal >narrow is merely a continuation of the 
 medulla oblongata, which takes this name as soon as it 
 enters the vertebral canal. Like the rest of the brainy 
 mass, it is inade up of cineritious and medullary sub- 
 stance ; but here the medullary substance forms the 
 peripheral, and the cineritious the central, portion ; this 
 latter being disposed in a crucial direction. The spinal 
 marrow is divided through its whole length by a middle 
 channel, into two equal and similar halves ; and, like the 
 encephalon, it is invested by membranes that appear to 
 be prolongations of the dura and pia mater. It is largest 
 at its exit from the head, and its termination at the coc- 
 cyx is much more evidently fibrous than any part of the 
 encephalon, and is also of a firmer coTisistence. 
 
 The cerebrum, cerebellum, medulla oblongata, and 
 spinal marrow, form only parts of the same general mass, 
 which has been called sen.soHum commune, or common 
 sensorium, as itis supposed to be the centre of sensation 
 and of motion. The general bulk of this medullary mass 
 differs little in individuals of the same age, though it is 
 supposed to be proportionally larger in men than in women. 
 It is certainly larger in infancy and young children, in 
 proportion to the rest of the body, than in persons of a 
 more advanced age. The weight of an adult human 
 brain is said by Soemmering scarcely ever to amount to 
 four pounds. In infancy and childhood, the consistency 
 of these parts is less, and their colour brighter, than in 
 middle age. In old people they become comparatively 
 firm, and, from the arterial branches being less pervious, 
 they are of a paler colour. 
 
 The general sensorium is more abundantly supplied 
 with blood than almost any organ of the body, especially 
 the encephalon, through which, it is computed, at least 
 
 * We have said, tliat this communication between the lateral ventricles is comvionh l()uncl, because we are .iware th.it it is still a dis- 
 puted point, whether this communication really exists in the living brain, or is only the consequence of accidental separation by the 
 knife of the dissector. Winslow long ago described an oval hole, which formed a passage between the lateral ventricles, (Exposition 
 anatomique, 12mo, Tome III p. 388.) ; and Lieutaud noticed a similar communication, (.liuitomie historique et pratique, Tome I- p. 77) 
 The second Professor Monro afterwards discovered tlie oijening above noticed, published the discovery in his Otservatinns on the ner- 
 •vous system, p. 12,, and vindicated his former account by additional figures and testimonies in his Treatises on the brain, the eye, ant! the 
 ear. Still, however, the m.'itter is not generally agreed o;i. Haller denied the communication, (Klcmenta physiologi.e. Tome 11'.) ; 
 Portal has found the ventricles containing fluids of diflerent colours, (Meinoires de I'acad. des sciences, 1770) ; and a respectable editor 
 of our best medical dictionary asserts, that this communication is not always found, (Ne^a London -medical dictionary, vol. i. p. 395.) 
 Amid such diversity of opinion, it would be arrogance in us to decide ; we shall therefore leave the iioinl as we fonnd it, in dispute. 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. 5 D
 
 762 
 
 AN/VTOMY. 
 
 a tenth part of the whole mass of blood is continually 
 circulating. The principal arteries of the brain will be 
 noticed hereafter. The sinuses, several of which we 
 have mentioned above, serve the oflice of large veins, 
 into which the blood is poured, and thence received into 
 the jugular veins, to be reconveycd iiilo the system. See 
 Physiology. 
 
 It disputed whether the brain is provided with lym- 
 phatics, but they have been described by Mascagni ; 
 and though it may not be easy to exhibt them, we 
 think there can be little doubt of their existence. 
 
 It is scarcely possible to assign to each particular part 
 of the general sensitive mass its specific use or office. 
 From the numerous convolutions, eminences, and de- 
 pressions, there can be no doubt that nature has some 
 great end in view in thus extending the cerebral sur- 
 face, especially that of the cineritious part ; which, from 
 its being more abundant, is generally considered as the 
 more important of the two portions. As the ventricles 
 contain more or less of a peculiar subtile fluid, they 
 are supposed by Soemmering to be the most essen- 
 tial part of the sensorium, as the secreting organs and 
 cmporia of this fluid, which he conceives to be the seat of 
 the soul ! 
 
 From several parts of the encefihalon, and from each 
 side of the spinal marrow, there pass off numerous white, 
 medullary chords, which are the nerves that are dis- 
 tributed to the various motive and sensitive organs of 
 the body. These nerves, when examined with the 
 microscope, appear to be made up of numerous parallel 
 fiLtmcnts, running in a waving direction, and collected 
 together into larger bundles, till they compose the trunk 
 of tlie nerve. At their origin from the common sen- 
 sorium, the nervous trunks are invested by a productiori 
 from the dura mater ; but they lose this covering when 
 they have issued from the holes in the skull or the ver- 
 tebral column, through which they pass to the place of 
 
 their destination. They arc, however, all enveloped in pe- 
 culiar sheaths, formed of a delicate cellular membrane, 
 called by Kcil ncurilcma. 
 
 The nerves differ much in size ; and, in general, 
 those which supply the organs of motion are larger 
 than those which are distributed to the organs of the 
 senses. 
 
 The nerves seldom run far independent of each 
 other. Sometimes several nervous filaments unite into 
 a knotty, medullary body, called a ganglion, from which 
 other filaments, commonly more numerous, arise ; and 
 frequently several filaments from the same, or from con- 
 tiguous nerves, are united together into a sort of net- 
 work, called plexus. 
 
 The nerves arise from the common senaoriutn in 
 pairs, from the corresponding halves of the sensorium, 
 one of each pair being sent off from some particular 
 part of the medullary mass. Anatomists have distin- 
 guished nine pairs proceeding from the encefihalon, and 
 about thirty from the spinal marrow. The following 
 Table is intended to give a general view of the origm 
 and distribution of the principal nerves that have been 
 distinguished by particular names. In the first column 
 are noted the usual names and principal synonymes of 
 the nerves ; in the second is printed out the place of their 
 origin, whether from the cerebrum, the medulla oblon- 
 gata, or the spinal marrow ; the third shews their general 
 course and their distribution ; and the fourtli contains 
 their connection with each other, — a circumstance which 
 merits particular attention, as tenduig to explain the 
 sympathies that take place in the animal system, be- 
 tween parts that would otherwise seem to have but a 
 very remote communication. We shall divide the nerves, 
 in the usual manner, into those that come from tlie 
 encephalon, which we shall call cranial nerves, and those 
 which proceed from the spinal marrow, or the vertebral 
 nerves.* 
 
 TABLE OF NERVES. 
 
 I. Crani.\l Nerves. 
 
 A'o. JVerves. 
 
 1 . First pair, or olfac- 
 
 tory nerves. 
 PI. XVIII. Fig. 4. 
 No 1. 
 
 2. Second pair, or optic 
 
 nerves. 
 PI. XVIII. Fig. 4. 
 
 No. 2. 
 PI. XXII. No. 2. Fig. 
 
 7. and 8. 
 
 Origin. 
 
 From the anterior lobes 
 
 of the brain, from a 
 
 furrow near where these 
 
 unite towards the base. 
 
 From the superior part of 
 the thalami nervorum 
 o/iticoruw, in the late- 
 ral ventricles, passing 
 downwards to the base 
 of the brain, from vvdiich 
 they issue just before 
 the anterior crura of 
 the medulla oblongata, 
 and then unite in a com- 
 mon trunk, which se- 
 parates again almost 
 immediately. 
 
 Distribution. 
 
 Through the holes in the cri- 
 briform plate of the ethmoid 
 bone, to be distributed on the 
 membrane which lines the 
 nostrils. 
 
 Through the ofitic holes of the 
 sphenoid bone to the orbits, 
 where, on entering the ball 
 of the eye, they are im- 
 mediately divided into nu- 
 merous filaments, passing 
 through separate orifices be- 
 tween the choroid membrane 
 and vitreous humour, form- 
 ing the retina. 
 
 Connections. 
 
 With each other, just be- 
 fore the infundibulum, 
 and above the pituitary- 
 gland. 
 
 Perforated in the mid- 
 dle by the ceyitral ar- 
 tery. 
 
 ■ Blchat, in liis .inatomie descriptive, tome iii. divides the nerves into those which arise from the cerebrum, those which arise from 
 what he calls the cerebral protuberance f medulla oblongata J, and those wliich originate from tlie spinal marrow We do not attach 
 to this arrangement so much importance, even in a physiological point of view, as Bichat appears to think it merits, and we have there- 
 lore retained the ordinary division.
 
 ANATOI^IY. 
 
 763 
 
 JVb. J^ervCi. 
 
 3. Third pair, motores 
 
 ocuii, or oculo-mus- 
 
 cular nervea. 
 PI. XVIII. Fig. 4. 
 
 No. 3. 
 PI. XXH. Fig. 7. 
 
 d. 
 
 4, Fourth pair, or pa- 
 
 thetic nerves. 
 PI. XVIII. Fig. 4. 
 
 No. 4. 
 PI. XXII. Fig. 7. b. 
 
 5. Fifth pair, /rig-fminus, 
 or tri-facial nerve. 
 
 PI. XVIII. Fig. 4. 
 No. 5. 
 
 6. Ophthalmic nerve. 
 PI. XXII. Fig. 7. 
 
 7. Superior 
 nerve. 
 
 Inferior 
 nerve. 
 
 maxillary 
 
 maxillary 
 
 9. Sixth pair, or abduc- 
 tor nerves. 
 PI. XVIII. Fig. 4. 
 No. 6, 
 
 10. Seventh pair. 
 
 Fig. 4. PI. XVIII. 
 No. 7. 
 
 '11. Auditory nerve, or 
 fiortio mollis. 
 
 12. Facial nerve, or /jor- 
 tio dura. 
 Symfiatheticus minor. 
 Winslow. 
 
 13. Eighth pair. 
 
 PI. XVIII. Fig. 4. 
 
 Origin. 
 From the crura of the 
 cerebrum, a little be- 
 fore the Cuber annula- 
 re. 
 
 From near the corpora 
 quadrigemina, passing 
 between the middle 
 lobes of the brain, and 
 the adjacent part of the 
 tuber annulare. 
 
 From the root of the cru- 
 ra cerebelli, where they 
 contribute to form the 
 tuber annulare; com- 
 posing a flat bundle of 
 filaments, which divides 
 into three principal 
 branches. 
 
 First branch of the fifth 
 pair. 
 
 Second branch of the fifth 
 pair. 
 
 Third branch of the fifth 
 pair. 
 
 From a furrow between 
 the posterior edge of 
 tlie tuber annulare, and 
 the corjiora Jiyramida- 
 lia. 
 
 From the inferior sur- 
 face of the fourth ven- 
 tricle, coming out at 
 the base of the me- 
 dulla oblongata, a lit- 
 tle behind the sixth 
 pair. 
 
 First branch of the se- 
 venth pair. 
 
 Second branch of the se- 
 venth pair. 
 
 From the base of the cor- 
 pora olivariaj a little 
 
 Distribution. 
 
 Through the fissure between 
 the sphenoid bone and or- 
 bitar plate of the frontal 
 bone, on the outside of the 
 carotid artery, lo the or- 
 bits, where they arc distri- 
 buted to the muscles of the 
 eye-ball. 
 
 Through the same fissure with 
 the preceding, to the obli- 
 rjuiis superior muscle of the 
 eye-ball. 
 
 To the orbits, great part of 
 the face, and coronal and 
 basilar maxillx. 
 
 Through the same fissure with 
 the last two, to be distri- 
 buted within the orbits ; to 
 the eye-lids, forehead, nose, 
 and face. 
 
 Through the round hole of 
 the sphenoid bone, to the 
 palate, nostrils, the cars, 
 the sockets of the upper 
 teeth, the antrum of High- 
 more, and muscles of the 
 face. 
 
 Through the oval holes of 
 the sphenoid bone, to ma- 
 ny muscles of the face and 
 neck, the external ear, the 
 tongue, the sockets of the 
 lower teeth, and the chin. 
 
 Through the cavernous sinus, 
 and the sphenoido-orbitar 
 fissure, to the rectus abduc- 
 tor muscle of tlie eye-ball. 
 
 Through the external audito- 
 ry passage, to the organ of 
 hearing, and several pans of 
 the neck and face. 
 
 Through a number of small 
 holes within the auditoiy 
 passage, to all the internal 
 parts of the ear. 
 
 Separating from the portio 
 mollis within the auditory 
 passage, passes through the 
 aqueduct of Fallopius, to 
 the external ear, neck, and 
 face. 
 
 To the tongue, the pharynx, 
 
 and several viscera of the 
 
 5 D 
 
 Connection. 
 Assists in forming the 
 oplithalmic ganglion, 
 and tluis communicates 
 with the first branch of 
 r.\ieJi/(/i pair. 
 
 With the intercostal, or 
 great sympathetic. 
 
 With branches of the 
 seventli pair. 
 
 With the portio dura ol 
 the seventh pair at the 
 ear. 
 
 With a reflected branch 
 of the fifth pair, form- 
 ing the origin of the 
 intercostal, or great 
 sympathetic nerve. 
 
 With branches of the 
 fifth pair ; with the se- 
 cond vertebral pair, and 
 with the great sympa- 
 thetic.
 
 764 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 .Vo. JVeroes, 
 
 No. 8. 
 
 U. Glosso - pharyngeal 
 nerve. 
 
 15. Pneumogastric nerve, 
 or /lar vagum. 
 
 Origin. 
 behind the 
 
 seventh 
 
 pair. 
 Principal branch of the 
 eighth pair. 
 
 From the fifth pair by 
 numerous filaments, a 
 little behind the former 
 branch. 
 
 Distribution. 
 thorax and abdomen. 
 
 To tl>e styloid muscles, the 
 tongue, and jilmrynx. 
 
 Through a fissure between 
 the temporal and occipital 
 bones, down the neck to the 
 lurijnXi furicardium., lungs, 
 gullet, and stomach. 
 
 Connection. 
 
 With the facial nerve, /wr 
 vagum, and hypo-glos- 
 sal nerve. 
 
 With branches from some 
 "of the vertebral nerves 
 through the accen- 
 sorius ; with the great 
 sympathetic, the hypo- 
 glossal, and the glosso- 
 pharyngeal nerves. 
 
 1 6. Ninth pair, or hypo- 
 glossal nerves. 
 
 Lingua/ nemes. 
 
 PI. XVIII. Fig. 4. 
 No. 9. 
 
 17. Accessory or spinal 
 nerve. 
 JVetints ncccssorius 
 Willisii 
 
 18. Intercostal, or great 
 sympathetic nerve. 
 Triafilanchnic nerve. 
 
 19. Sub-occipital nerve. 
 
 Sometimes called the 
 tenth pair of the 
 craniuin. 
 
 Co. Phrenic or diaphrag- 
 matic nerve. 
 
 From the medulla oblon- 
 gata between the cor- 
 pora olivaria and fiy- 
 
 ramidalia. 
 
 Through the anterior condy- 
 loid hole of the occipital 
 bone to the stcrnomastoid 
 muscle, muscular parts of 
 the tongue, and other organs 
 of taste. 
 
 II. Vertebral Nerves. 
 
 From the beginning of the 
 spinal marrow. 
 
 Seems to arise from the 
 first cervical ganglion, 
 opposite the second 
 cervical vertebra, and 
 passes into the skull, 
 where it joins the ocu- 
 lar branch of the sixth 
 pair, and downwards 
 through the chest, bel- 
 ly, and pelvis, to the 
 sacrum. 
 
 From the lateral part of 
 the beginning of the 
 spinal marrow by two 
 principal roots. 
 
 Chiefly from the fourth 
 cervical, and partly from 
 the fifth and sixth. 
 
 Through the anterior condy- 
 loid hole of occipital bone, 
 to the sternomasloid mus- 
 cle, muscular parts of the 
 tongue, and other organs of 
 taste. 
 
 Chiefly to the lungs, the heart, 
 the stomach and intestines, 
 the urinary and genital or- 
 gans. 
 
 Entering the dura mater, 
 comes out by the edge of 
 the occipital hole behind 
 the condyles, and is distri- 
 buted chiefly to the recte 
 and oblique muscles of the 
 head. 
 
 Descending by the sternal 
 part of the neck, through 
 the thorax, is distributed 
 principally to the dia- 
 phragm. 
 
 With the fiar vagum, 
 great sympathetic, and 
 first two vertebral pairs 
 
 With the fiar vagum, and 
 several other nerves. 
 
 By small twigs, vfith the 
 fifth and sixth pairs ; by 
 numerous ganglia and 
 plexuses, with all the 
 vertebral nerves, and 
 near the coccyx, with 
 its fellow on the oppo- 
 site side. 
 
 With the great sympa- 
 thetic, the par vagum, 
 hypo-glossal, and first 
 cervical nerves. 
 
 With the hypo-glossal, 
 with a small branch 
 of the third cervical 
 that goes to the 
 shoulder, and with 
 the great sympathe- 
 tic. 
 
 I
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 7Q[ 
 
 JVo. 
 
 J^erves. 
 
 Origin 
 
 21. Radial nerve of Mon- from the middle division 
 
 ro. 
 
 Median nerve of 
 Winsloiv, and of 
 the Frtnch anato- 
 mists. 
 
 See Plate XXI. Fig. 
 2. No. 6, 10. 
 
 ol' the axillary /ilrxits, 
 formed by the four last 
 cervical, and first dorsal 
 nerves. 
 
 22. Ulnar nerve. 
 
 From the same axillary 
 plexus. The numb- 
 ness that is often pro- 
 duced in the fingers 
 by striking the el- 
 bow, or leaning on the 
 ulnar condyle of the 
 humerus, arises from 
 the pressure of this 
 nerve. 
 
 Spiral — muscular From the posterior divi- 
 nerve of Monro. sion of the axillary 
 Radial nei-ve of filexus. 
 Winslow and the 
 French anatomists. 
 
 24. Musculo-cutaneous 
 nerve. 
 Perforans Casserii. 
 See Plate XXI. Fig. 
 
 2. No. 9. 
 
 From the internal division 
 of the axillary filexus. 
 
 2'5. Obturator, or 
 pubic nerve. 
 
 Posterior crural 
 nerve, 
 36. Crural nerve. 
 
 Anterior femoral, or 
 anterior crural 
 nerve. 
 
 sub- From the lumbar plexus. 
 
 From the lumbar plexus. 
 
 Distribution. 
 
 Descending beside the hume-~ 
 ral artery to the bend of 
 the elbow, is distributed 
 to the brachialis intemus, 
 fironator teres, and most 
 Other flexor muscles, to the 
 palm of the hand, where 
 it gives branches to the 
 thumb, the fore, middle fin- 
 gers, and radial side of the 
 ring finger. 
 
 Descends along the ulnar 
 
 Connection. 
 
 side of the humerus to the 
 elbow, to which it gives a 
 branch ; thence along the 
 thenal side of the foic arm 
 to the wrist, where it di- 
 vides into two branches, 
 one going to the back of 
 the hand, the other chief- 
 ly to the little finger, and 
 ulnar side of the ring fin- 
 ger. J 
 
 Passes from between the last' 
 nerve and the axillary ar- 
 tery, round the humerus 
 to the brachialis and su/ii- 
 nator and several other 
 muscles, to the back of the 
 hand, and the same fingers 
 as No. 21. 
 
 Perforating the coraco-bra- 
 chiatis muscle, descends 
 between the bice/is and 
 brachialis internus, to the <. 
 middle of the humerus, 
 where it gives off a large 
 superficial branch to the 
 muscles and skin of the 
 arm, and a smaller deep 
 branch to the brachialis 
 internus, and the internal 
 substance of the hume- 
 rus. 
 
 Chiefly to the obturator, jiecti- 
 neus, gracilis and cruralis 
 muscles. 
 
 Accompany the femoral arte- 
 ry to the inguinal arch ; 
 gives off many branches, 
 chiefly to the rectus cruris, 
 trice/ts, sartorius, and semi- 
 tendinosus muscles, and to 
 the foot, accompanying the 
 safihena vein. 
 
 The principal connection 
 
 of these nerves, is that 
 
 with each other, at their 
 
 ^ general origin in the 
 
 axillary Jilcxua. 
 
 The principal connection 
 of these nerves, is tliat 
 with each other, at their 
 general origin in the 
 axillary filexus.
 
 766 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 J^o. 
 
 JVervcs. 
 
 Origin. 
 
 27. Sciatic or ischiatic From the last two lumbar, 
 
 jjgrve, ^"'1 fi""**^ three sacral 
 
 nerves, constituting the 
 
 largest nervous trunk 
 
 in tlie human body. 
 
 18. Tibial nerve. Principal branch of the 
 
 Internal jiofiliteal sciatic nerve. 
 nerve. 
 
 c, 1 Second principal branch 
 29. Peroneal or fibular ^f the sciatic nerve, 
 nerve. 
 External Jwfiliteal 
 nerve. 
 
 Distribution. 
 
 Through the ischiatic notch,^ 
 by the great trochanter of 
 the thigh bone, poplitead, 
 to a little below the mid- 
 dle of the thigh, where it 
 divides into the two next 
 nervous branches, having in 
 its course given filaments to 
 most of the muscles of the 
 thigh. 
 To the muscles of the calf of 
 the leg, and flexor muscles 
 of the toes, and to the great 
 toe, and the first three of 
 the smaller toes, as in the 
 radial nerve, while a branch 
 like the ulnar nerve, supplies 
 the other toes. 
 From the ham along the fi- 
 bula, and at about a third 
 part of its descent divides 
 into three branches, two 
 superficial to the skin and 
 some muscles of the leg, 
 and to the rotular side of the 
 toes, and one deep branch 
 to the muscles on the rotular 
 aspect of the leg. 
 
 Connection. 
 
 The principal connection 
 of these nerves is chief- 
 ly that at their com- 
 i> mon origin in the scia- 
 tic nerve. 
 
 We have thus traced the origin and distribution of 
 the principal nerves of the human body, and we shall 
 add a few general remarks. We liave seen that the 
 largest nervous trunks are those which supply the limbs, 
 and the principal organs of motion. Indeed it is gene- 
 rally observed, that the nerves that are distributed to 
 the organs of sense, and to the most important vital or- 
 gans, as the heart, the lungs, and the stomach, are pro- 
 portionally the smallest in the body. It has been ad- 
 vanced by Dr Darwin, that the nerves which supply the 
 sensitive organs all come from the encephalon, while 
 those which arc distributed to the organs of motion ori- 
 ginate in the spinal marrow. AVe have seen that this 
 statement is incorrect, and that many of the nerves 
 which have their origin in the medulla oblongata give 
 branches to the muscles of the face and neck, while 
 branches from some of the vertebral nerves are inti- 
 mately connected with some of those that belong to the 
 organs of the senses. 
 
 It is worthy of observation, that the whole nervous 
 svstem IS composed of two halves on each side of the 
 mesial line, both similarly formed, and, in their principal 
 ramifications, regularly divided. Thus nature has pro- 
 vided, in the most ample manner, against those injuries 
 which might affect one side of the system, by furnishing 
 assistance from the nervous branches, ganglions, and 
 plexuses of the other side. Again, by the general con- 
 nexion that is afforded through the medium of the great 
 sympathetic nerve, the two halves of the body are most 
 intimately united, and thus sympathize with each other 
 in all their motions and sensations. 
 
 The nerves arising from the spinal marrow observe a 
 remarkable regularity in their mode of origin. The 
 nerves of each vertebral pair are formed by filaments 
 from both the sternal and dorsal parts of the lateral 
 
 divisions of the spinal marrow ; and just after they pass 
 through the intervertebral holes, they are united on 
 each side into a ganglion, and from this ganglion they 
 emerge, partly to join with the great sympathetic, and 
 partly to pass to peculiar organs. 
 
 The nature of the ganglions is not fully ascertained. 
 They, in a great measure, resemble the brain in their 
 general structure, and, like it, have much cineritious 
 substance in their composition. Hence they are by some 
 considered as succedanea to that organ; and their pro- 
 portionally greater magnitude in those animals who have 
 no proper brain, seems to favour the supposition. Bichat 
 considers the ganglions, and the nerves which proceed 
 fi-om them, as forming a separate nervous system, dis- 
 tinct from that of the nerves arising from the medullary 
 mass of the encefihalon, (under which he includes the 
 spinal marrow) ; and he calls the latter the nervous sys- 
 tem of animal life, and the former that of organic Ufel 
 See Anat07nie Generate, Part I., and Anatomie Descrifi- 
 tive, Tome III. Thus, he contends that the great sym- 
 pathetic nerve, with the ganglions from which its vari- 
 ous ramifications arise, forms an insulated nervous sys- 
 tem, destined entirely to the functions of animal life. 
 This is not the place for entering into physiological dis- 
 cussions, or we think it might be shewn, that this inge- 
 nious and able writer refines too much on this favourite 
 part of his system. The mutual dependence of the seve- 
 ral parts of the animal frame is so great, and the sym- 
 pathies between them so obvious, that we can scarcely 
 conceive that the connexions of the nerves, on which 
 those sympathies depend, are not equally general. In- 
 deed Bichat himself acknowledges, in speaking of the 
 anasto7no.ses, or intimate connection of the nerves of 
 animal life with those of organic life, {Anatomic Generate, 
 Tom. I. p. 134.) that the two anastomosing nerves arc
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 '67 
 
 so confounded at the point of union, tliut he cannot say 
 where the one lei'niinales, and the other begins. 
 
 In tlieir course, the nervous trunks preserve nearly a 
 straight direction ; and, when they give oil brandies, 
 these make very acute angles witli the trunk. The 
 nerves are supplied with blood by small arteries, which 
 in the larger trunks arc very perceptible. They possess 
 great sensibility ; when pressed slightly, a numbness is 
 I'elt in the parts to which they arc sent ; and when the 
 pressure is increased, this numbness becomes very pain- 
 ful. Laceration, or puncture of a nerve, is commonly 
 followed by convulsive twitches in the muscular parts 
 which it supplies. 
 
 The morbid appearances that have been usually found 
 on dissecting the human enceftlialon, are chiefly the fol- 
 lowing. The dura mater has been found inflamed ; con- 
 taining scrofulous tumours, or incrustations of bony 
 matter. Sometimes it adheres much more firmly, than 
 in ordinary cases, to the interior of the skull. The pia 
 mater has been found inflamed, its vessels distended 
 with blood, or filled with air ; part of this membrane has 
 been found ossified, and hydatids and scrofulous tumours 
 are sometimes seen connected with it. The substance 
 of the brain itself is sometimes unusually soft ; at others 
 preternalurally firm and elastic. The former has been 
 said to occur in the brains of idiots, and the latter in 
 those of maniacal patients; but these general conclu- 
 sions do not seem warranted by sufficient observation ; 
 and Dr Baillie affirms, from what he deems the best au- 
 thority that the brain of maniacal patients is generally 
 not more firm or more elastic than that of people whose 
 minds have always been sound.* The brain is often seen 
 inflamed, and its vessels distended with blood, or its cavi- 
 ties with an unusual quantity of watery fluid. Encysted 
 tumours are sometimes seen in various parts of the en- 
 cephalon ; little bags have been found adhering to the 
 plexus choroidcs ; the pineal gland is not unfrequently 
 found with a gritty matter within its substance, and 
 sometimes it contains a watery fluid. 
 
 The nerves are sometimes seen preternalurally soft ; 
 and the same nerves vary considerably in different sub- 
 jects, with respect to size and colour. 
 
 On the general anatomy of the nervous system, see 
 Lud wig's Script ores JVcurobjgici Selecti, in 4 vols. 4to; 
 and Munro on the jVcrvous Stjstc?n ; on the anatomy of 
 the brain, see Vicq D'Azyr, Traite d'Anatumie, el de 
 P/njsiologie, \vith elegant coloured plates, folio, publish- 
 ed at Paris in 1786; Vincenzo Malacarnc, A'wc e/i/jo/o^o- 
 mia JVuova Universale, published at Turin, in 1780, 
 Soemmering's Libri de Base Enccfihali., et Originibus 
 Nervorum, and his work De Corjioris Humani Fabrica, 
 vol. 4.; Bichat's Ariatomie Descriptive, Tom. III. ; and 
 for figures, where the elegant work of Vicq D'Azyr 
 cannot be procured, Mr Charles Bell's engravings of 
 the brain, or the plates oi Loder, Haller, and Monro. 
 
 On the anatomy of the spinal marrow, see Huljer De 
 Medulla S/iinali, Haller's Icones Anatomicx, and Frats- 
 eher Descri/itio Medullx S/iinalis cum icone, published at 
 Erlang in 1783. 
 
 On the anatomy of the nerves in general, see, besides 
 several of the authors we have mentioned, Proschasha 
 De Structura JVeruorum ; Winslow's Traite d'Anatomie, 
 or Douglas's translation ; Scarpa's Annolationes Acade- 
 micte ; Haose De Gangliis J^erx<oru»i ; and Bichat's 
 Anatomic Generate, Part I.: And for descriptions and 
 
 views of the j)rincipal nerves of the body, see Waller's 
 
 Tabulx neru'jvum thoracis ct abdominis ; Fischer's De- 
 schjiiio anatomica nervorum lumbutium, sacralium, ct ex- 
 iremitntum inferiorum ; Scarpa's 7'abuU ncurologicic ; 
 and Bell's Engravings of l lie nerves. 
 
 The fanciful craniognomic system of Gall, founded on 
 the supposeil connexion between the prominences on 
 the upper surface of the brain, and the prevalence of 
 certain passions, virtues, or vices, will form the subject 
 ol a hiture article. In the mean time, we may refer our 
 readers for an account of the hypothesis, to Some account 
 of Dr Gall's A''ew Theory of I'Injsiognomij, luith the 
 Strictures of Hufeland, published at London in 1807 ; 
 to a view of the same system by M. Bojanics, in .Millin's 
 Encyclojiedie Methodiiiue, in the 14lh vol. of the J'liilo- 
 so/iliicul Magazine, or the 4th vol. of the 8vo. series of 
 J^fichohon' s Journal. See Ckaniognomy. 
 
 Sect. II. Of the Organs of the Senses. 
 
 The sensitive organs, by means of which man and 
 other animals hold communication with surrounding 
 material objects, are all seated, cither on the external 
 part of the body, or so near this, as to communicate 
 with the external air by certain passages. These organs, 
 as is well known, consist of those of feeling, tasting, 
 smelling, hearing, \xnA seeing. Of these the first is most 
 widely diffused, being spread over the whole surfiice of 
 the body, and extending to most of its internal cavities; 
 it has therefore been placed by Buisson in a distinct 
 class. Next to the organ of feeling, that of tasting is 
 the most general ; for, as we shall see hereafter, this 
 sense is not confined to the tongue. This sense, and 
 that of smelling, arc placed by Buisson in a second class, 
 as being nearly allied. The senses of hearing and of 
 sight are the most confined, and their organs are the 
 most complex and artificial. It may be remarked of 
 the sensitive organs in general, that their disposition is 
 regular and symmetrical. They are cither situated 
 in pairs on each side of the mesial line, as the eyes, the 
 ears, and the nostrils, or they are so disposed, that the 
 mesial line divides them into two equal and similar 
 halves, that sympathize with each other. Of all these 
 organs, that of feeling alone may be considered as occa- 
 sionally dependent on the will. All the rest are invo- 
 luntary, and, provided they are in a healthy state, must 
 transmit the impressions which they receive from their 
 peculiar stimuli. We shall consider these organs, ac- 
 cording to the order in which they have been enume- 
 rated. 
 
 1. Of the Organ of Feeling. 
 
 The sense of feeling is exercised by that part of the 
 integuments, which is called the true skin, and which 
 lies between the rete mucosum and the cellular mem- 
 brane that invests the muscular parts of the body. At 
 present we shall describe only this part of the integu- 
 ments, as the consideration of the cuticle rete ?nucosu7n, 
 hair and nails, more properly belongs to what we have 
 called the organs of integu?nation. 
 
 Bichat, who describes the skin at considerable length, 
 in his account of the dermoid system, (^Anatomic Gene- 
 rale, Par. II. )t distinguishes its substance into three 
 layers, corion, corpus, reticulare, or reticular portion, and 
 
 * Balllie's Jl/ori/i Aniitom,:, 2d edition, p. 457. 
 
 t Bichat spells this word chorion; but as it is evidently derived from coriuni, leather, we omit the h.
 
 768 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 papillaiy portion ; of which the first is the most distinct, 
 and the most essential, as it constitutes the substance of 
 the sliiti. Tlic reticular portion is properly that surface 
 which lies next the relc muco.sum. 
 
 The corion varies much in thickness indifferent parts 
 of the body. It is thickest on the skull, the back part 
 of the neck, and back ; in the palm of the hand, and the 
 sole of the feet : while on the face, on the fore parts of 
 the body, on the back of the hand and foot, it is tliuuiest 
 and most delicate ; and, in some particular parts, espe- 
 cially the lips, it is extremely line. It is composed of 
 fibres, that cross each other in every direction, inter- 
 spersed with numerous blood-vessels, nerves, and lym- 
 phatics. These component fibres are gelatinous, and 
 are susceptible of great extension and elongation. They 
 are always of a white colour, and in no respect influenced 
 by that substance which forms the colouring matter of 
 the external surface of the body. The corion is every 
 where perforated witli innumerable holes, wliich are 
 called tlie pores of the skin. These pores appear to be 
 arranged in the corners of certain angular parts of the 
 surface, (see Plate XVIII. fig. 6.) and they open exter- 
 nally through corresponding holes in the cuticle. This 
 part of the skin seems not to be connected with the sense 
 of feeling, but chiefly intended to give to the skin its 
 strength and dilatability, andtoaflbrd a connecting sur- 
 face for the insertion of the numerous vessels and nerves 
 that are necessary to enable their integument to carry 
 on its important functions. 
 
 What Bichat calls the reticular portion of the skin, 
 is denominated by Mr Cruikshank the mfinbrane of the 
 small po<, and is seen at d, fig. 5. Plate XVIII. Both 
 these writers agree, that this is the part of the skin in 
 which the pustules of cutaneous eruptions are seated. 
 It forms the peripheral surface of the corion, to which 
 it is firmly united ; and, according to Bichat, consists of 
 a net-work of extremely fine vessels, the trunks of which, 
 after having passed through the pores of the corion, 
 are distributed over its external surface. 
 
 The fia/iillx of the skin, though they appear without 
 the reticular portion, do not properly belong to that 
 tissue, but are really nervous eminences that arise from 
 the peripheral surface of the corion, and pass through 
 the interstices of the reticular portion. As these papilla 
 constitute more immediately the organ of feeling, we 
 shall consider them rather more minutely than the pre- 
 ceding parts of the skin. The extremities oi the papilla 
 lie inmiediately below the cuticle, and the rete mucosum, 
 which covers the peripheral surface of the reticular 
 membrane, fills up the intervening spaces between the 
 fiapille. When minutely examined by macerating the 
 corion for some days in water, we find that these papilla 
 consist of a number of small white fibres, united at their 
 base, so as to form a sort of pencil. Sometimes the 
 papilla of each pencil are nearly of the same length, but 
 frequently those in the centre are the longest, thus form- 
 ing a conical eminence. These papilla have been ob- 
 served wherever the outer surface of the corion has been 
 examined with the microscope ; but they are most evi- 
 dent below the skin of the lips, in the palms of the hands, 
 and soles of the feet. They are situated very close to 
 each other, and together form a villous surface, well 
 adapted to the office of touch. Fig. 7. Plate XVIII. re- 
 presents pretty exactly these papilla as they appear be- 
 low the cuticle on the point of the fore finger. 
 
 When not called into action, the papilla of the skin lie 
 flat, and arc not easily discerned ; but when stimulated 
 
 by the contact of an external body, or even when the 
 mind excites the desire of touching such an object, tiie 
 papilla are erected, and assume the appearance express- 
 ed in the figure. 
 
 Almost all anatomists consider the papilla as the ex- 
 tremities of the nervous filaments that traverse the 
 substance of the corion, and which, when passing out at 
 the peripheral surface, lose their enveloping membrane. 
 Some have even pretended to trace the nervous filaments 
 into these papilla ; but, as the density of the corioB is 
 so great, and these nervous filaments are so extremely 
 minute, it is probable that their success in this dissec- 
 tion has been rather imaginary than real. Still, however, 
 there is no reason to doubt that their opinion is just, and 
 that the immediate organ of feeling, like that of all the 
 other senses, exists in the extremities of the nerves by 
 which the organ is supplied. 
 
 The skin is preserved soft and moist by an oily secre- 
 tion that ooses through its pores, and is Ly most anato- 
 mists supposed to arise from certain glands, called tnili- 
 ary or sebaceoui glands. These glands, however, cannot 
 be detected in most parts of the body where the skin is 
 abundantly moist and pliable ; but in certain places, as 
 behind the ears, in the arm-pits, Sec. glandular bodies, 
 from which an unctuous secretion evidently arises, are 
 distinctly to be seen. We may therefore conclude from 
 analogy, that similar glands exist in other situations, 
 though we have not yet been able to discover them. 
 
 The skin is generally more sensible in females and 
 young children than in males, or in those of a more ad- 
 vanced age. In certain diseases it almost entirely loses 
 its sensibility, while in others this is increased to a pain- 
 ful degree. The developement of the skin, and the 
 principal morbid appearances which it presents, more 
 properly belong to that part of our subject in which we 
 shall continue the integuments. 
 
 2. Of the Organs of Tasting. 
 
 The principal organs of tasting are, the tongue and 
 the palate ; though the lips, and several of the neigh- 
 bouring organs, contribute to enlarge the sphere of this 
 sensation. 
 
 The tongue, though not a very complex organ, is des- 
 tined to perform more varied, and much more important 
 functions, than that of imparting to the mind the taste 
 of sapid bodies. Besides being the principal organ for 
 producing the articulations of voice, it is an organ of de- 
 glutition, and might be considered in both these points 
 of view in the subsequent parts of this article. At pre- 
 sent we shall examine only the structure of its substance, 
 and the nervous apparatus that covers its superior sur- 
 face, as in these is situated the more immediate organ 
 of tasting. 
 
 The substance of the tongue is partly muscular, and 
 partly composed of membranes and cellular substance, 
 numerous large branches of vessels and nerves. The 
 principal muscular substance that forms the body of the 
 tongue, consists of two parallel planes, arranged on each 
 side of the basilar surface, and called by anatomists 
 the lingual muscles. Above these lies a mass of fleshy 
 fibres, irregularly disposed, and crossing each other in 
 every direction. 
 
 The muscular substance of the tongue is eveiy where 
 invested by a mucous membrane, which is a continuation 
 of a similar membrane that lines the mouth, and covers 
 the gums. This membrane, like the ordinary integu-
 
 ANAT03IY. 
 
 V(ii/ 
 
 ments, is composetl of several layers, viz. a fine and de- 
 licate cuticle ; a nuiLOUs or reticular portion, lormed like 
 the corresponding p;.rt ol the skin, by the intcrtcxture 
 ol' minute vessels, iVoni wnicli the tongue derives its 
 usual red colour ; and a corion, that is extremely deli- 
 cate on the basilar surface and edg-es ol the ton'gue, but 
 very thick and dense on the coronal part. Tins corion 
 is most iirnily attached to the muscular tissue that co- 
 vers the lingual muscles, and can scarcely be distin- 
 guished from it. Oil the peripheral surface of the 
 corion are situated numerous fiafuUj:., which are more 
 remarkable in this organ than in almost any other part 
 of the body. 
 
 The eminences that appear on the coronal surface of 
 the tongue, are disiiuguished by anatomists into three 
 kinds, accorciiiig lo their size and situation. Those 
 wiiich occupy the root of the tongue are arranged nearly 
 in the form of the letter V,cxtending forward at the sides, 
 and meeting in a point towards the root of the tongue. 
 They are of a very irregular form, generally either 
 spherical or oval, and sometimes furnished with appen- 
 dages or prolongations. These /uifiiHic arc considered 
 as mucous glands, opening towards the peripheral sur- 
 face of the tongue. 
 
 The other eminences that cover about two-thirds of 
 the tongue, towards its tip, and in which resides more 
 immediately the organ of taste, arc more properly cal- 
 led jia^iittdE. Some of these liave the appearance of tu- 
 bercles, supported by a neck; they are of a whitish co- 
 lour, are pretty large, but not so thickly arranged as the 
 remaining fmfiillx. Tliese latter are of a conical form, 
 pointed at their summits, are very small, and extremely 
 numerous. They form a plane, bounded behind by the 
 mucous glands, and are arranged with more regularity 
 towards the root of the tongue than towards its tip. 
 
 The tuberculated fia/iitix are disseminated at irregular 
 intervals, among the conical. It is doubtful whether they 
 differ in their nature from the former, or only in their 
 external appearance. These pafiilLt, like those on the 
 peripheral surface of the skin, are probably the outer 
 terminations of the branches of the lingual nerves, which 
 supply the surface of the tongue. 
 
 The tongue is frequently covered with a whitish clam- 
 my fluid, commonly called fur, which is more remark- 
 able in tlie morning, and in cases of disordered stomach. 
 As this fur chiefly covers the papillary surface of the 
 tongue, it has been supposed to be formed by some of 
 these jmJiilU, perhaps by those of the tuberculated ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 Though the substance of the tongue is abundantly sup- 
 plied with nerves and arteries, and is generally conceived 
 to be an organ of exquisite sensibility ; wounds, or oth- 
 er injuries of this part, are not so dangerous as might 
 be imagined. The observations of Mr Home, (see Plii- 
 tosolihkal Transactions for 1803, or Kkhohon^ s Journal, 
 8vo, vols. vi. and vii.) have proved that surgical opera- 
 tions may be very safely performed on this organ. 
 
 The vaulted roof of the mouth commonly called the 
 jialate, or true palate, is composed, partly of bone, and 
 partly of mucous membrane. The bony arch is formed 
 by the palatine processes of the coronal maxilla, and by 
 those of the palate bones, properly so called, which are 
 united in the middle by a double raphe, or prominent line, 
 which may be easily felt through the investing mem- 
 brane. It is bounded before by the sockets of the teeth, 
 and behind by that soft curtain called velum pendulum 
 palati, or the soft palate. 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 The mucous membrane that lines the bony arch, dif- 
 fers in its sliuctuie from that which forms the interior 
 lining of the alveolar processes of the jaw, and which 
 constitutes the gums. At present we shall consider only 
 the former. The mucous membrane of the palatine arch 
 is of considerable density, especially on the lore part, 
 and near the gums. Between it and the bony arch, are 
 situated mucous glands, which are more numerous in 
 the back part of the mouth, and which secrete that 
 slimy matter which always covers the roof of the mouth. 
 The mucous membrane firmly adheres to the periokirum 
 ol the bony arch, and between them run the vessels and 
 nerves that supply tliis part of the mouth. Nervous pa- 
 IdlU probably exist within the sul)stance of the mucous 
 membrane, as we find that the sensation of taste is in- 
 creased when the sapid body is pressed between the pa- 
 late and the tongue. 
 
 The tongue is often found covered with white, or 
 grayish crusts, as in apbtlix, and in many cases where 
 jmlinonury consumption has proved fatal ; sometimes it 
 is cancerous; and now and then it is extremely small, or 
 is altogether wanting. The palate is sometimes found 
 cleft, or imperfect at the suture, an appearance that oc- 
 casionally accompanies liare-Up; sometimes as in advan- 
 ced sujiliili>i,\\. is carious, and is often covered witli aph- 
 thous crusts. 
 
 For the best anatomical descriptions of the tongue 
 which we have seen, see Bichat's Anatomic Descriptive, 
 Tom. II. p. 594., and Cuvier's Lemons /)' AnatOiimis 
 Coniparee, Tom. II. p. 684., or in Mr Ross's translation 
 Vol. II. p. 697., and Tom. III. p. 260. Some good figures 
 of the tongue are contained in Cowpcr's tables of the 
 muscles, in Loder's Tabulm Anatomica, and in the first 
 volume of Haller's Opera Minora. 
 
 3. Of the organs of Smelling. 
 
 The organ of feeling, which we described in the first 
 section of this chapter, is situated on the external sur- 
 face of the body, while those of tas'.ing are wliolly inclu- 
 ded within a cavity. The senses of smelling, hearing, 
 and sight, are provided with both external and internal 
 organs ; by the former of which they collect or inhale 
 the medium through which they receive their sensations, 
 while the latter furnish an extensive surface for the ex- 
 pansion ol the nervous fibrils that are the immediate 
 sensitive organs. 
 
 The organs of smelling in man consist, principally, of 
 the nose, and its cavities, or nostrils ; but tlie extent of 
 these organs is probably increased by the communica- 
 tion of the nostrils with the neighbouring cavities, or 
 sinuses, viz. the frontal, sphenoidal, and maxillary sinu- 
 ses. The nose consists principally of an upper bony 
 portion, commonly called the bridge of the nose, compo- 
 sed of the two nasal bones, between which runs a ver- 
 tical plate from the ethmoid bone, and the vomrr ; of 
 two borders, or sides, partly cartilaginous, partly muscu- 
 lar, and partly membranous, called by anatomists alx nasi, 
 or wings of the nose, and of a cartilaginous partition be- 
 tween the nostrils, which is continued basilad and an- 
 tiniad from the bony partition of the ethmoid bone. Into 
 the upper part of the nostrils project two spongy, irre- 
 gular, bony portions, called the sufierior-turbinuted, or 
 spongy bones, which belong to the ethmoid bone; and 
 to these are united two other irregular spongy bones, 
 called the lower turbinated bones. What is called the 
 tip of the nose, is chiefly formed of two rounded carti- 
 lages, and two similar cartilages from the central pari 
 
 5 E
 
 770 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 of tlic lower portion of Uic aLt nuai. The cavities of ihe 
 - nostrils, in wliich is situated the essential origan of 
 smelling, ai-e mucli larger in their coronal and inial 
 parts, tlian the smallness of their external openings 
 would lead us to siii)pose. Above, they extend to the 
 cribriform plate of the etlimoid bone, between the eyes; 
 and behind, along the whole extent above the palatine 
 arch, as far as the velum pendulum and the jiliaryux. 
 These cavities, and the sinuses with which they com- 
 municate, are lined with a delicate and very sensible 
 mucous membrane, called the pituitary memhrarie, or 
 sometimes the schnciderian membrane, from the name of 
 the anatomist who is thought first to have accurately 
 described it. Supposing this membrane to commence 
 from the external opening of the nostrils, it ascends 
 over the aU iia.ii, and the partition of the nostrils, as 
 far as the ci'ibriform plate of the ethmoid bone, which 
 it every where invests, entering into all its holes, so as 
 to give an extensive attachment to the branches of the 
 olfactory nerves. Hence it is reflected over the inial 
 surface of the nasal bones, and, in passing over the 
 small holes that are found in these, receives several 
 blood vessels. It now proceeds backward to the body 
 of the sphenoid bone, which it covers, and enters into 
 the sphenoidal sinuses, which it completely lines. Re- 
 turning from -these sinuses, it passes over the superior 
 spongy bones, where it is more loosely connected than 
 in any other part of its course. It now descends to the 
 spheno-palatine hole, from which it receives several 
 nerves and vessels, and where it is intimately connect- 
 ed with the periosteum from the spheno-maxillaryyossa'. 
 It thence passes successively to the posterior ethmoidal 
 cells, the maxillary sinuses, the inferior spongy bones, 
 the bottom of the nasal canal from the corner of the 
 eye, and the basilar part of the nostrils to the point from 
 which we supposed it to commence. Behind, it covers 
 the cartilaginous margin of the eustachian tube, coming 
 from the ear. 
 
 These extensive connexions of the pituitary membrane 
 merit particular notice, as they shew the extent of the 
 organ of smelling, and explain the sympathies that take 
 place between it, and the eye, the ear, and other neigh- 
 bouring organs. 
 
 This membrane is chiefly what Bicbat calls mucous, 
 and affords one of the best examples of a mucous mem- 
 brane ; but it is partly made up of a fibrous layer, de- 
 rived from the periosteum of the bones over which it 
 passes. It is thin at the opening of the nostrils, but 
 dense, spongy, and of a red colour, in the greatest part 
 of their internal cavities. Its whole surface is beset with 
 numerous pores, w hich appear to be the orifices of small 
 bags, and from which exudes that viscous fluid called 
 the mucus of the nose. The chief use of this fluid seems 
 to be that of lubricating the nostrils, and preventing ir- 
 ritation from the external air, and those effluvia of which 
 it is the medium. 
 
 This mucus is of a consistence more or less viscid 
 according to circumstances, of a specific gravity greater 
 than that of water, and soluble in this fluid, unless when 
 it has been rendered solid by long exposure to the air. It 
 consists chiefly of gelatine and albumen dissolved in water. 
 
 The nostrils are supplied with nerves chiefly from the 
 olfactory and the superior maxillary nerves, communi- 
 cating with the port io dura of the seventh, and with the 
 great sympathetic. They have numerous arteries and 
 absorbents, the former of which will be noticed in a 
 subsequent chapter. 
 
 The nose, in very young children, is usually broad, 
 flat, and ol)tuse ; the nostrils proportionally very small, 
 and their internal membrane, for a few weeks after 
 birth, scarcely secretes the usual mucus. In young peo- 
 ple, especially lads about tlie age of puberty, tliis mem- 
 brane receives a large supply of blood ; and rpislaxia, 
 or bleeding from the nose, takes place from slight 
 causes. The nose, in old people, usually becomes long, 
 thin, and sharp ; the nostrils wide ; and the pituitary 
 membrane much less sensible than at former peiiods. 
 
 The varieties that appear in the external form of the 
 nose, though of no great moment to the professional 
 anatomist, or the physiologist, are of great importance 
 to the painter and the naturalist, as they afford some of 
 the most striking marks of discrimination in the infi- 
 nitely diversified expression of the human countenance. 
 Perhaps no feature admits of a greater variety of figure 
 than the nose. Not only in the more striking shades of 
 distinction that mark the varieties of the human race, 
 are these differences apparent ; in every nation, almost 
 in every province, the nose exhibits a diversity of ap- 
 pearance more or less striking, though less general. 
 The long nose, gently arched, with a tip more or less 
 acute, wliich generally distinguishes the southern Eu- 
 ropean, changes in the northern regions of Europe and 
 Asia to a flattish, broad, and obtuse nose ; becomes still 
 more broad and flat among the Calmucs, the Chinese, 
 the Hottentots, and the negroes of the Guinea coast; 
 and in the first of these it is extremely small. The dif- 
 ferences that take place among people of the same na- 
 tion, are too numerous to admit of being particularized 
 in this place, though they well deser\c the attention of 
 the artist. 
 
 The morbid appearances in the organs of smelling are 
 not very numerous. The bones are sometimes broken 
 flat to the face, or rendered carious by disease. The 
 nostrils are sometimes found impervious at their exter- 
 nal opening, or obstructed internally. Fungous, or can- 
 cerous tumours are occasionally seen on the skin of the 
 nose ; and not unfrequently similar tumours are observed 
 hanging from the investing membrane. Ulcers of this 
 membrane, discharging a very acrid fluid, are some- 
 times met with ; and, in a few cases, the whole nose has 
 been consumed in consequence of a cancerous or syphi- 
 litic affection. 
 
 On the anatomy of the nose, see Hunter's Observa- 
 tions on some parts of the .inimal Economy ; Bichat, 
 Anatomic Descrifitive, tome ii. ; and Cuvier, Anatomie 
 Comjiaree, tome ii., with the Tables of Loder. 
 
 4. Of the Organs of Hearing. 
 
 The organs destined to convey the sensation of sound, 
 consist, in man, of the external ear, or auricle, and an 
 internal bony cavity, with numerous circular and wind- 
 ing passages, formed within the petrous portion of the 
 temporal bone. By the former, the vibrations of the air 
 are collected and concentrated, and, by a peculiar me- 
 chanism, they are conveyed to the internal cavities in 
 which the nervous fibrils are distributed. 
 
 The external ear is chiefly composed of an elastic 
 cartilage, bent into various folds and hollows, covered 
 with very thin integuments, which, uniting with a dense 
 cellular substance, form at the most depending part, a 
 round moveable body, of but little sensibility, called the 
 lobe of the ear. The various folds and eminences of the 
 auricular cartilage have been distinguished by particular
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 771 
 
 names. Thus, the outer prominent edge tluit is most 
 remarkable on the upper part of the cartilage, and turns 
 inward opposite the cheek-bone, is called lulix, I'roni 
 its spiral direction. The prominent rising- that lies just 
 within this, extending on the posterior part to the root 
 of the lobe, is called anthclix or unlilicUx, as being op- 
 posite to the helix. The small protuberance in which 
 the helix appears to terminate below at its inner edge, 
 and which projects a little outward, is called imgii.i, 
 from its being often covered with hair, and thus bearing 
 a fancied resemblance to a goat's beard, and another 
 eminence nearly opposite to this, and projecting out- 
 wards over the hollow of the ear, is called anlitrai^ua. 
 That superficial depression which we observe a little 
 within and before the anthelix, is called «cu/'/'« ; and 
 the large cavity formed by the whole cartilage, and 
 opening internally, is called concha, from its resemblance 
 to the hollow of a shell. This concha is the commence- 
 ment of what is called the external auditory passage 
 {meatus auditorius externus.^ The beginning of this 
 passage is, like the external ear, composed of cartilage, 
 and this cartilage unites to that orifice hi the temporal 
 bone, which in the skull is situated between the roots 
 of the zygomatic and mastoid processes, and is also 
 called meatus exiernus. The remainder of the tube, 
 which extends but to a small distance, is hollow within 
 the temporal bone. The cartilaginous tube is lined by 
 a fine soft membrane. Between the skin of the external 
 ear and the cartilages, there are several glands that 
 secrete a particular unctuous substance, called cerumen 
 or wax of the ear, which is discharged by numerous 
 small ducts, opening within the cartilaginous tube. The 
 glands are called, from their office, glaudula ceruminosx, 
 and are most numerous round the cartilaginous tube. 
 Attached to the external ear there are several muscles, 
 some of which are, in most subjects, extremely small, 
 and have little effect in changing the position of the 
 auricle, except where they are rendered more sensible 
 by long acquired habit. i^See the table of muscles.) Hairs 
 commonly project from the skin of the concha across 
 the auditory passage. By these, and the wax secreted 
 by the glands, insects are prevented from intruding 
 within the cavity. 
 
 The external auditory passage does not run in a 
 straight direction ; it first rises coronad and glahellad, 
 or upwards and forward, and then takes a slight turn 
 and passes basilad or downward. At its termination there 
 is a strong transparent membrane stretched across the 
 passage, and forming, when entire, a complete parti- 
 tion between the external passage and tlie internal cavi- 
 ties. This is called by anatomists, membrana tynt/tani, 
 and in cominon language, the drum of the ear, from its 
 having the appearance of parciiment. This membrane 
 is inserted within a small groove, and has a slight de- 
 pression, rendering it a little concave towards the ex- 
 ternal passage, and convex towards the internal cavity. 
 It is susceptible of being stretched or relaxed, by the 
 action of particular muscles. , 
 
 Having passed the membrane of the tympanum, we 
 enter an irregular hemispherical shallow cavity, called 
 the civity of the tympanum, of a very irregular form, 
 and furnished with several openings, by which it com- 
 municates with the fauces, (or opening at the back of 
 the mouth), with the cells of the mastoid process, and 
 with another cavity of the internal ear, situated beyond 
 the tymjuinum. Within the cavity of the tym/imium 
 there are also several small bones, which will be pre- 
 
 sently noticed. The orifice leading to the fauces is the 
 connuencement of a long conical tube, partly bony, 
 partly membranous, and partly cartilaginous, which ex- 
 pands as it approaches the fauces, and in some measure 
 resembles a tiumpet. This is called the eustachian tube ; 
 and through this cavity the mucus of the nose sometimes 
 insinuates itself, when we blow the nose very hard, and 
 produces a very disagreeable sensation of fulness and 
 lightncs.s within the car. After removing the bony con- 
 tents of the tympanum, we observe, opposite to the 
 membrane, two holes, one above the otiier, with a bony 
 eminence between them. The higher of these holes it. 
 of an irregular oval form, and is called the oval hole (oi- 
 fenestra ovalis ;) the lower is round, and is called the 
 round hole [fenestra rotunda.) The eminence betweei. 
 them is called the {iromontory. 
 
 The bones that occupy the cavily of the tympanum 
 are generally described as four in number. One of these 
 is of an irregular shape, with a large rounded protube- 
 rance at one extremity, and a long pointed process at 
 the other. (See Plate XXU. Fig. 1, U.) This is called 
 the malleus, or mallet, and is fixed to the membrane of 
 the tympanum, with its round head uppermost. Con- 
 nected with this bone, towards the mastoid process, is 
 a second, with a broad irregularly hollow surface, and 
 two processes called its legs. This is called incus, from 
 its supposed resemblance, either in form or connexion, 
 to an anvil. One of its legs is longer than the other; 
 and the shorter of them joins the cells of tlie mastoid 
 process; while the longer of them is articulated with a 
 very small round bone, called os orbiculare, or the orbi- 
 cular bone, forming a connecting medium between the 
 incus and the next bone. This last has been not unaptly 
 compared to a stirrup, which it very much resembles, 
 and has therefore been called sialics. The broad end of 
 this bone, IbrmiBg the base of the stirrup, is united to 
 the oval hole ; while the small end, called its head, joins, 
 as we have said, the incus, through the medium of the 
 orbicular bone, in such a manner as to form nearly a 
 right angle with the long leg of the incus. All these 
 bones are extremely hard, are covered with periosteum, 
 and are articulated to each other by means of capsular 
 ligaments. Attached to them are a few muscular fibres 
 that have received particular names, and appear to 
 regulate their motions. Between the malleus and incus 
 runs a small nervous cord, coming from the fiortio dura 
 of the seventh pair, and crossing the ty!n/ianu!n, whence 
 it is called chorda tympani. The round hole has no bone 
 attached to it, but is closed by a membrane. 
 
 More internally is situated the principal cavity of the 
 ear, consisting of several winding passages, filled with 
 a watery fluid, and lined with a pulpy memlirane, on 
 which are distributed the extremities of the neryes. 
 The whole cavity including these winding passages, is 
 not unaptly termed the labyrinth of the ear; and the 
 central opening in which the winding passages meet, 
 and which communicates with the tympanum chiefly by 
 the oval hole, is called the vestibule. On that side of 
 the vestibule which is next the mastoid process, there 
 are five orifices leading to three semicircular cavities, 
 formed within the substance of the bone, and called 
 semicircular canals. The extremities of two of these 
 canals on one side unite, and form a common opening ; 
 hence there appear in the vestibule only five holes in- 
 stead of six. These semicircular canals have been dis- 
 tinguished by separate names, according to their rela- 
 tive situation. Thus, that which is the natural position 
 5E2
 
 72 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 ear. All these internal cavities are lined with fibroub 
 
 iiicnibraiics, called tUc'ir /n rioHWum.' 
 
 Tnc vai'iulions that arc lound to take place in the ear 
 at dittercnt ages are not very great. In the icelus, the 
 entrance to tne bony part of the external auditory pas- 
 sage, is merely cartilaghious, and the menibrane ol the 
 tympanum is fixed in an iinpertect separate bony ring, 
 and is covered witli a mucous membrane. Tne internal 
 cavities oi the ear arc, however, nearly in tneii- periect 
 state at birth, and the labyrinth, in particular, is almost 
 as large in children as in adults. 
 
 Tlie morbid appearances ot the organs of hearing, 
 especially those ot the hilernal cavities, are ot consider- 
 able importance, as they tend to illustrate the causes of 
 deafness and the means that arc likely lo relieve ii. The 
 most material ol these appearances are fungous tumours 
 ■within the external passage ; inflammation, tliickening, 
 rupture or entire destruction ol the memljiane ol the 
 tympanum; loss of the small bones; ulceration ol the 
 membrane lining the cavity of tlic tympanum; obstruc- 
 tion of the eustachian tube; uriusual tenacity or coagu- 
 lation of the water of the labyrinth, or a change of this 
 to a bony matter. Of these the most injurious to the 
 sense of hearing seem to be the obstruction of the eusta- 
 chian lube, and the solidity of the matter in the laby- 
 rinth. The rupture of the membrane, and even the loss 
 of the bones, provided the sia/ies be left, may take place 
 without being succeeded by any considerable degree of 
 deafness. On this subject see a paper by Mr Astky 
 Cooper in the P/iUo.io/i/iical Transactions for 1801, p. 
 436, or Nicholson's Journal, 8vo. vol. i. p. 102. 
 
 The writers who have treated on the anatomy of the 
 ear are very numerous, but we shall mention only the 
 most important. These are Du Vcrney, De Organo 
 ^uditus ; Valsalva, Dc Aure Hu7na7ia Traclatus ; Co- 
 tunnius, De Aqueductibua Auris ; Cassibohmius, De 
 Aure; Scarpa, Anatomies Dis(jici>sitiones de Auditu et 
 Olfactu ; Soemmering, Abbildungen den Menschlichen 
 Hcerorganes ; Bichat, Anatomie Descri/idve, torn. II.; 
 Cnv'ier, Le{o?is d'Anatomie Comparee, torn. II.; Monro 
 on the Brain, the Eye, and the Kar, and Bell's Anatomy, 
 vol. III. part II. 
 
 Some of these works, especially those of Scarpa and 
 Soemmering, contain excellent figures of the several 
 parts of the ear; but beside these, we may warmly re- 
 commend two plates, in the first volume of Albinus's 
 Annotationts Academicx. These contain a regular se- 
 ries of views of the internal cavities of the ear, as they 
 would appear on a gradual dissection, both from the 
 outer and the inner sides of the temporal bone; and as 
 the parts are represented of the natural size, and in 
 their ordinary position, we consider these figures as 
 among the most instructive that have been published 
 on the subject. See Ear. 
 
 5. Of the Organs of Sight. 
 
 The organs of sight are not less complex than those 
 of hearing, which we have just described, and consist, 
 like them, of external and hitcrnal parts. The former 
 are the eye-lids, eye-brows, eyc-lashes, and the adjoin- 
 ing muscles and membranes. The latter consist of the 
 
 of fhe parts is highest, or looks coro/iud, is called the 
 superior canal ; tiiat wnich looks witli its convex part 
 next the cavity of the skull, is called posterior or ob- 
 lique ; and tluit which looks towards the tympanum, 
 and lies more horizontally than the rest, is called the 
 exteiior canal. The interior cavity of these bony canals 
 is lined with a membrane, forming membranous tubes 
 corresponding with the bony cavities, and sometimes 
 called the membranous canals. On the opposite side 
 of the vestibule there is an opening into part of a dou- 
 ble spiral cavity, wuiding round like the shell of a snail, 
 or periwinkle, and hence called cochlea. Its opening 
 into the vestibule is called scala vestibuli. There is 
 another opening to the cochlea from the tympanum by 
 the round hole ; but this, as we have said, is closed by 
 membrane. 
 
 Tliere is no part of the anatomy of the ear, or perhaps 
 of human anatomy in general, so difficult to be under- 
 stood from description, as the structure of the cochlea. 
 A correct idea oi this intricate passage can scarcely be 
 conveyed by words, and the drawings that have been 
 given of this part of the ear are not much more intelli- 
 gible to those who have never seen the parts demon- 
 strated. If we suppose a pretty long hollow cone, di- 
 vided longitudinally by a partition that reaches nearly lo 
 the point, to be wrapped round a central pillar, (com- 
 posed of a short cone, and also hollow), so as to make 
 two turns and a half, and to preserve its conical form, 
 we shall have a tolerably correct idea of the internal 
 structure of the cochlea. The spiral turns supposed to 
 be made by the moveable cone are commonly called 
 scaU, from their supposed resemblance to a stair-case. 
 One of these, as we have said, opens directly into the 
 vestibule, and is called .icala vestibuli; the other looks 
 towards the tympanum, and is called scala tymjiani. 
 The former looks towards a cavity that opens from the 
 internal part of the petrous portion of the temporal bone 
 next the dura mater, called the internal auditory pas- 
 sage {meatus auditorius internus). The partition that 
 divides the two spiral cavities from each other, is called 
 the 'piral plate (lamina .'ifiiralis); and in the fresh state 
 of the parts, is composed of a spongy bony plate, next 
 the central pillar, with a membranous expansion stretch- 
 ing from its peripheral edge to the side of the spiral 
 canal. Tne short cone Avl.ich we suppose to form the 
 central pillar, is called niodeolus ; and above this there 
 is a funnel-shaped cavity appearing like another cone, 
 placed with its point next that of the modeolus, and 
 communicating with it. This has been called infundi- 
 bulum or funnel; and here the spiral plate is deficient, 
 so that the two spiral canals of the cochlea communicate 
 with each other. Through the opening at the base of 
 the modeolus, a branch of the auditoiy nerve that has 
 entered by the internal auditory passage, passes up- 
 wards, or rather forwards, into the funnel-shaped cavity, 
 and is thence extended through the spiral caiials; while 
 another branch passes backwards throuL';h the vestibule, 
 and enters by several divisions the orifices of the semi- 
 circular canals. There ai'e several other holes, and a 
 spongy, cribriform plate, all opening from the cavity of 
 the skull into the labyrinth, and these through numerous 
 nerves and blood vessels pass to and from the internal 
 
 • It is of consequence to remark, that the cavities of the labTniiilh, here described, are lioUowed out of the solid substance of the 
 temporal bone ; and that when seen in tlieir natural situation, t!ity do not appear witli those eUc;ant rounded and spiral firms on their 
 outside, under wliich Ihev are represented in en_^'avinj,'s, and demonstrated in preparations These external forms are artificial, and 
 are fashioned by the chisel ■■■■''•• 
 windings that disting 
 
 h Ihev are represented in engi-avinj,'s, and demonstrated m preparations iliese external forms are arimciai, ana 
 : chisel and the file of the artist, that the parts may correspond in their outward appeai'ances with those elegant 
 guish their inierniU cavities.
 
 ANATOMY, 
 
 77: 
 
 eye-ball, with its muscles, the optic nerve, and the la- 
 chrymal gland, all contained vvilliin what are called the 
 orbits or sockets of the eyes. In descril)ing these or- 
 gans, wc shall begin with the eye-ball and its appen- 
 dages, as constituting the most important, thongh most 
 complex part ot the structure. 
 
 The orbiis or bony cavities in which the eye-balls arc 
 lodged, are composed of processes from several bones 
 both ol the skull and face. The vaulted arch that forms 
 the separation between the eye-ball and the brain, is a 
 production of the frontal bone ; tlie inferior hollow, on 
 which the ball rests, is made up of productions from the 
 upper _;aw-6ci7!e, the cheek-bone, and the jialate-bonc ; the 
 temjwrat or lateral part of the orbit, is formed by a pro- 
 cess from the sfxhenoidal bone, and partly by one from 
 the cheek-bone ; and the interior or mesial part is 
 formed principally by the ungual bone. The whole or- 
 bit has the shape of an inverted cone, the point of which 
 is next the brain, and at this place there arc numerous 
 holes and chinks for the passage of blood-vessels and 
 nerves, that come from the skull to supply the eye and 
 parts adjacent. 
 
 The eye-ball is of a rounded figure, and, when freed 
 from the cellular membrane that surrounds it, appears 
 to be composed of segments of two unequal spheres, 
 one of which forms that part of the eye-ball which is 
 within the orbit, constituting about four-fifths of the 
 whole; while the other, constituting the remaining one- 
 fifth, composes that part of the ball which is seen in 
 front. The sphere of which this latter is a part, is less 
 than the former, or this latter is more convex. Thus, 
 the diameter of the eye-ball from before backward, is 
 longer than its transverse diameter, in the proportion 
 of about 25 to 23. The ball of the eye is much less than 
 the cavity in which it is lodged, but the interval is filled 
 lip with cellular membrane, which facilitates the motions 
 of the ball. It is so situated within the orbit, that the 
 axis of the two eyes, if supposed to be produced, would 
 meet within the skull behiiidthe orbits. 
 
 The eye-ball is composed chiefiy of membranes and 
 humours. Anatomists usually distinguish three men;- 
 branes of the eye-ball, tliougli we may, perhaps, add a 
 fourth. The outmost has, from its firmness, been called 
 the sclerotic membrane or coat. This is a fibrous mem.- 
 braue, composed of a single layer, of a dense, and thick 
 texture, especially at its back part, and is formed by 
 numerous fibres, so interlaced with each othei', as 
 scarcely to be distinguished. This membrane is abun- 
 dantly supplied with blood-vessels, and exhalants, but 
 seems. to be furnished with few or no nerves, as it pos- 
 sesses little sensibility. The external membrane that 
 covers the fore part of the eye is called the cornea, which 
 we would distinguish from the former, as it is less 
 dense, and not fibrous like it, but is ;,ade up of a great 
 number of concentric layers; and in the dead body, is 
 easily separated from the sclerotic by maceration. Be- 
 tween the transparent p?rt of the eye, which is more 
 strictly called cornea, and the interior part of the scle- 
 rotic, lies the white of the eve, covered bv the membrana 
 conjunctiva, which is a mucous membrane that lines the 
 
 inside of the eye-lids, and is reflected thence over the 
 whole peripheral and anterior surface of the eye-ball, 
 being tianspaient where it passes over the cornea, and 
 appearing white and opacjue where it covers liie scle- 
 rotic, lying between the cornea and the angles of the 
 eye. IJetwecn the conjunctiva, and the sclerotic coat 
 and eye-lids there is a (piantity of cellular substance, 
 and within this lie several small mucous glands. 
 
 The concentric layers composing the cornea appear 
 to be of a cellular texture, and the cells contain a serous 
 fluid, which is sometimes coagulated, and produces 
 opacity of the cornea. The substance of this membrane 
 resembles coagulated albumen, rendered transparent by 
 exposure to the air, except that it has not the yellow 
 colour of this albumen. 
 
 The cornea seems to have few or no lilood-vessels, 
 except exhalants, and no traces of nerves can be detect- 
 ed in it. Indeed, like the sclerotic coat, it is nearly 
 insensible. 
 
 Within the sclerotic membrane lies one which is ex- 
 tremely vascular, and is called the choroid cozx. or mem- 
 brane. It is concentric with the sclerotic, but may, 
 without difficulty, be separated from it. There is in 
 this membrane no appearance of fibres, except a few ra- 
 diated striae at its anterior margin. It appears to be 
 entirely made of minute blood-vessels. Its central sur- 
 face is lined with a mucous substance, which is usually 
 of a dark brown colour, and has been called fiigmentuni 
 nig^-um ; but when this is cleared away, and the choroid 
 membrane macerated, the membrane appears transpa- 
 rent. At its back part there is an opening in the cho- 
 roid, called the cribrous plate, from its being perforated 
 with many holes, for the passage of the divisions of the 
 optic nerve, where it begins to form the retina. 
 
 This is merely an expansion of the oplic nerve, though 
 it is commonly called the third membrane of the eye- 
 ball. Its general form and disposition are the same 
 with that of the choroid, which it every where invests. 
 Of the origin of this membrane from the trunk of the 
 optic nerve, there is no doubt, though many disputes 
 have taken place respecting its anterior termination ; 
 some anatomists supposing, that it terminates at the 
 anterior margin of the choroid coat, while others assert 
 that it proceeds much farther.* Though certainly de- 
 rived from the medullary substance of the optic nerve, 
 the retina differs from that substance in many respects. 
 It is of a darker colour, and of less density, but it is en- 
 tirely a pulpous matter, and according to Bichat, with- 
 out any appearance of fibres. We have said that the 
 retina every where invests the choroid membrane, but 
 this is not strictly accui'ate, as Soemmering has disco- 
 vered that there is a particular spot about two lines 
 distance from the entrance of the optic nerve, in the 
 direction of the axis of the eye-ball, where the retina is 
 deficient. This spot is about a line in diameter, and is 
 of a yellowish colour, deepest in the centre, where 
 there is a circular hole, or deficiency of the nervous 
 membrane. This vellow spot may be seen in some 
 cases throus>;h the cryslullinc lens, with the centre of 
 which it appears to correspond. See Socmmering's 
 
 • It is our intenlion in the present article to dwell aa little as possible nn disputed points in Anatomy. We li.ave, therefore, in the 
 text, mciitionetl onlv in sfineval terms the diversity cf opinion respecting- the termination of tlic retina. It may be proper, however, to 
 observe, that Dr Monro, in bis treatises on the Jirniii, the Eye, anil the E'lr, s.?eme<l to bavc proved, that the rt-fina extends to the bor- 
 ders of the crvstallinp lens, till Soemmtring-, in lis Late eleg'aiit work, Tcnnes Ocnli Ifumnni, considerei! liimsdf as liavinir demonstrated 
 tha' it terminates at a sliort distance frim the ciliai'v pi ocessc s. Bicliat, bowevcr, in lu« .iiintom'r Descriptire, torn. ii. page 447, asserts, 
 that this termination of the retina is cmly ajip-irent, and that a tldn lamina is reflected over the ciliary processes, which it invests, pass- 
 ing between the intermediate spaces, uud finally advances as far as the crystalline.
 
 •74. 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 plates, Tiiblc V. lig. 4, j, 6. The retina is extremely 
 sensible, but there seems a doubt respceting its irrita- 
 bility, or at least its conlractibility. It is well known, 
 tliat Darwin considered it as a librous membrane, sus- 
 ceptible of contraction, liichal, on tlie other hand, con- 
 tends that it is not librous, and that it has no animal 
 conlractibility. 
 
 The cavity within the membranes of the eye-ball is 
 filled with lluids of very dilTerent densities ; these are 
 called the humours of the eye, and in the healthy state 
 are transparent and colourless. Each of them is con- 
 tained within its own membrane, which is delicate, and 
 equally transparent with the humour. About three- 
 fourths of the globe of the eye at its posterior part, are 
 filled by the vitreous humour, which appears to be 
 nearly of the consistence of the white of egg. The 
 greatest part of its surface is spherical, from its con- 
 tiguity to the retina, and choroid membrane, by which 
 it is there completely invested ; but on the anterior 
 surface there is a circular depression, with a convex 
 edge rising round it. The membrane in which the vitreous 
 humour is immediately contained, and which is called 
 the hyaloid membrane, is made up of numerous little 
 bags, each filled with the fluid, and probably communica- 
 ting with each other. In the anterior depression of the 
 vitreous humour is lodged the crystalline lens or hu- 
 mour, which is a pretty firm body growing more dense 
 towards the centre, of a flattened form, convex on each 
 side, but more so next the vitreous humour. It is in- 
 closed in a peculiar capsule, in which it appears to float 
 loosely, there being interposed between them a watery 
 fluid, commonly called iujuor morgagni. The crystal- 
 line lens is composed of a great numljer ot laminae, 
 which become, as we have said, more and more dense 
 towards the centre, and each of these laminae is made 
 up of very distinct parallel fibres. The remaining part 
 of the eye-ball is filled with a watery fluid called the 
 arjucoiis humour, contained also within a delicate mem- 
 brane, which lines the inside of the cornea, and passes 
 over the crystalline lens, and the convex margin of the 
 vitreous humour. In the middle of the aqueous humour 
 floats the iris, thus dividing it into what are called two 
 chambers. 
 
 Though the aqueous and vitreous humours appear of 
 very different densities, while the latter is within its 
 capsule, their physical and chemical properties are 
 nearly the same. Both are limpid and transparent, 
 both iiave a specific gravity very little exceeding that of 
 water, viz. about 1.0053; and both consist chiefly of 
 water, with a little albumen and gelatine. Hence their 
 refractive power must be nearly equal, except in so far 
 as this is modified by their situation and relative position. 
 The crystalline lens, however, is much more dense, 
 has a specific gravity equal to 1.0790; and contains a 
 much greater proportion of albumen and gelatine. 
 When dried, the crystalline lens nearly resembles 
 coagulated albumen in a dry and transparent state.* 
 
 The anterior opening of the choroid coat is surround- 
 ed on the outside by a grayish ring, of sensible thick- 
 ness, called the ciliary circle, or sometimes the ciliary liga- 
 ment. This circle is situated centrad of the anterior 
 border of the sclerotic, to which it slightly adheres. 
 
 From tills circle pass numerous productions over the 
 margin of the vitreous humour towards the ciystallinc 
 lens, and these are called ciliary liroceases. Each of these 
 processes is of an irregular triangular figure, with its 
 base at the ciliary circle, and its apex towards the lens ; 
 and together they form a broad striated ring, between 
 the vitreous humour and the vascular membrane, called 
 the iris. 
 
 The iris is that broad coloured circle, which we ob- 
 serve in the middle of the eye, behind the cornea. It 
 stretches from the margin of the choioid membrane 
 before the crystalline lens, and at a small distance from 
 it, dividing the aqueous humour into what are called 
 anterior and posterior chambers. The iris is partly 
 fibrous, and partly spongy. Two orders of fibres have 
 been described in the iris, longitudinal, running from the 
 choroid circumference towarcls the central opening, cal- 
 led the pupil; and circular, surrounding the pupil, 
 though the fibrous structure and muscularity of the iris 
 are by many anatomists denied. The inner surface of 
 the iris is covered by a production from the choroid 
 membrane, called uvea. The iris is chiefly composed 
 of bloodvessels, and well supplied with nerves ; and in 
 the healthy state of the eye, is extremely irritable, con- 
 tracting and dilating, and thus diminishing or enlarging 
 the pupil, according as the rays of light to which it is 
 exposed are more or less abundant, or concentrated. 
 The contractibility of the iris has, by those who deny 
 its muscularity, been ascribed to its sympathy with the 
 retina. 
 
 The number, attachments, and general action of the six 
 muscles belonging to the eye-ball, have been already 
 noticed, in the general table of muscles, page 743. The 
 origin and distribution of the nerves of the eye have been 
 given in the table of nerves, page 762, and the origin 
 and distribution of its arteries will be mentioned in our 
 tabular view of the arteries. 
 
 The external parts of the eye consist chiefly of the 
 eye-lids, or Jialfiebrx, with the eye-brows, or supercilia ; 
 the eye-lashes or cilia and the conjunctiva. 
 
 The exterior part of the eye-lids is formed by a con- 
 tinuation of the skin from the forehead and cheeks, and 
 from this a delicate fold passes over the edges of the 
 eye-lids, or tarsi lining their interior surface, and being 
 continued over the fore part of the eye-ball, forms the 
 external layer of the conjunctiva. Between these folds 
 lies the muscle called orbicularis fial/iebraru7n. The two 
 eye-lids are joined at the angles of the eye by two dense, 
 membranous parts, calUed commissures ; and from these 
 a cartilaginous arch, called ^cr6!«, extends along the edge 
 of each lid. Into these tarsi the eye-lashes are insert- 
 ed ; and on the inside of each lid, at the distance of 
 about a third part of the extent of the tarsus, from the 
 inner corner of the eye, there is a small orifice, called 
 punctum lachrymale . These orifices are marked in the 
 living eye by small protuberances, and are the openings 
 of two canals that meet at the inner corner of the eye, 
 in the lachrymal duct, which passing down through the 
 OS unguis, opens into the lachrymal sac, forming a pas- 
 sage for the tears through the nose. At the edges of 
 the eye-lids within the folds of the skin, are situated 
 small glands, called glandules Meibomii, or sebaceous 
 
 * The g'eneral similarity, in chemical properties, of the crystalline lens and coagulated albumen, was, we believe, fii-st proved ex - 
 perimeiitallv by Dr ,T. Kiiby ,■ and the experiments by which this similarity was established, are related in his Inaugur.al Dissertation, 
 De Lenti: Caligine, publislie'd at Edinburgh in Jnne 1803. The analysis of this and the other humours of the eye, has since been com- 
 pleted by Mr Chencvix and M. Nicholas.
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 775 
 
 glanils, which secrete a fatty matter, tliat prevents the 
 eye-lids from bchig hurt by rubbing- against each other, 
 and also keeps the tears within the verge of the tarsi. 
 
 Between the ball of the eye and the upper vault of 
 the orbit, on the temporal side, lies the lachrymal gland, 
 which secretes the tears. It is composed of a number 
 of small whitish, granular bodies, which are collected 
 together into two lobes. From this gland pass several 
 small canals, which, descending througli the substance 
 of the coronal eye-lid, gradually exude the tears, to 
 be diftused by the motion of the eye-lids, over the 
 cornea. 
 
 The liquor we call tears is transparent and colour- 
 less, has no odour, but is proverbially of a salt taste. It 
 consists chiefly ol water, holding in solution a little soda, 
 muriate of soda, /i/ws/i/iatcs of soda and of liiiw, and 
 771UCUS. The tears are evidently intended to moisten 
 and clear the cornea, and what is not employed in this 
 way, is carried by the lachrymal duct into the nostrils. 
 
 In the mesial or nasal corner of the eye, is a small, 
 round, reddish body, called caruncula iac/iryma/is, which 
 is made up of seven distinct follicles. This is a gland 
 secreting a whitish fluid, that is supposed to be intended 
 for protecting the fiuncta lachrymatia against the intru- 
 sion of extraneous bodies. 
 
 The organs of sight, like those of hearing, are pretty 
 fully developed at a very early stage of existence. Long 
 before birth, the eye of the child is completely formed, 
 but till about the seventh month after conception, the 
 pupil is closed with a grayish membrane, called the 
 pujiillary membrane. In children the eye appears pro- 
 portionally larger than in adults, from the greater con- 
 vexity of the cornea, and the greater abundance of the 
 aqueous humour; and the iris is in tlicm of a darker 
 colour. As old age advances, the cornea becomes flat- 
 tened ; the whole eye-ball, partly from the absorption of 
 the fat in the cellular membrane withhi the orbit, and 
 partly from the diminution of the humours, appears 
 sunk in the socket ; the iris becomes grayish ; the pupil 
 dilated and insensible ; the crystalline humour opaque 
 or discoloured ; and the vitreous yellow. The eye- 
 brows are usually thicker and darker in middle age than 
 at any other period ; in children they are thin and light, 
 in old people straggling and gray. 
 
 The external appearance of the human eye is not the 
 same in both sexes. The ball of a man's eye is propor- 
 tionally larger than that of a woman's ; its coats and 
 membranes much thicker ; the skin of the eye-lids red- 
 der, denser, and more wrinkled ; the arch into which its 
 eye-brows are set is more prominent, and the eye-brows 
 themselves more coarse and bushy. The eye-lashes in 
 a man resemble the eye-brows, in the coarseness of their 
 hair. The aperture between the eye-lids, when the up- 
 per lid is in the natural degree of elevation, is larger and 
 rounder in a man, and the corners of the eye are more 
 obtuse. 
 
 The most striking differences in the human eye, how- 
 ever, are to be found among the individuals that con- 
 stitute the varieties of the human race. The eye of a 
 civilized European differs in many respects, as to its 
 external appearance, from that of the natives of many 
 other regions of the globe. It is larger and more 
 prominent than the eye of the Laplander or the Chinese, 
 while it has not the obliciuity that characterizes the lat- 
 ter, as well as many other natives of the eastern climates. 
 In particular, it differs from the eye of the negro, in 
 having a fuller and more prominent eye-brow, but much 
 
 thinner and more delicate eye-lids ; a larger space be- 
 tween the eye-lids, and consequently a more obtuse an- 
 gle at the corners. The basilar eye-lid in a negro is also 
 broader, thicker, and more mobile than in an European ; 
 the eyc-lashcs more curved and thicker; the conjunctiva 
 more dark and obscure ; the cornea smaller and less con- 
 vex ; and w hat is remarkable, the orbits in a negro are 
 placed like those of the ape trilje, nearly in the same 
 plane, so that these people must possess a much smaller 
 held of vision. 
 
 The appearances of the eye in those people called 
 .Albinos, may perhaps be considered as morbid. They 
 consist chiefly in soft, yellowish, white, straight and 
 scattered eye-brows ; narrow, thick and inflated eye- 
 lids, of a chalky colour, and a scaly appearance ; soft, 
 bushy, curled cyc-lashes, of a very light colour; a thin, 
 unusually convex cornea ; a reticulated iris, of a whitish 
 purple, or rose colour; and either a deficiency of the 
 pigmentum that lines the choroid coat, or in this being 
 of a very light or reddish colour. The varieties which 
 we have pointed out in the male and female European 
 eye, in that of the negro and of Albinos, arc admirably 
 portrayed in the first plate of Professor Soemmering's 
 Icones Ocitli Humani. 
 
 When wc consider the great variety of morbid affec- 
 tions to which the eye is subject, we shall naturally 
 conclude that it must present as great a diversity of 
 morbid appearances. To mention ail these would ex- 
 ceed the limits of this article, but we shall enumerate 
 the most important of them. The coats of the eye arc 
 often found thickened, inflamed, and ulcerated. These 
 appearances are most common in the cornea and the 
 conjunctiva. The cornea is sometimes ulcerated, some- 
 times rendered opaque by purulent matter, coagulated 
 albumen, or effused blood, collected between its compo- 
 nent layers; obscured by specks or excrescences on its 
 peripheral surface, or so much swollen on its central 
 surface as to come in contact with the iris, and form 
 what is called a iCfz/i/zi/Mwa of the cornea. Besides the 
 ordinary inflammation with which the cornea is affected, 
 we sometimes observe the membrane much thickened, 
 vascular and opaque, and sometimes having a fleshy ex- 
 crescence growing over it; appearances to which sur- 
 geons have given the name o[ Jiterygium. Of the mor- 
 bid appearances in the humours of the eye, the most 
 important is that opacity of the crystalline lens which 
 is called cataract. In this disease the opacity is com- 
 monly confined to the lens itself, though it not unfre- 
 quently extends to its capsule, and in a few instances is 
 confined to the capsular membrane. An opaque lens 
 is generally harder than natural, but sometimes it is 
 unusually soft. Sometimes the capsule of the lens ad- 
 heres to the iris, so as to produce an inequality in the 
 circular margin of the pu))il. In a few instances the 
 crystalline lens is found to have escaped from its situa- 
 tion, and protruded itseifthrougli the pupil into the ante- 
 rior chamber of the eye. 
 
 The eye-lids have numerous morbid affections, be- 
 sides partaking of tlie inflammations which affect the 
 conjunctiva and the cornea. Sometimes they are af- 
 fected with cancerous tumours ; sometimes with im- 
 mense warty excrescences or wens ; in some cases their 
 edges are turned inward towards the cornea, constituting 
 what is called entrofiiuni; in others, they are reflected 
 outwards, forming ectro/tium. It not unfrequenlly hap- 
 pens, that the lachrymal ducts are obstructed, so that 
 the tears cannot descend by their usual passages iuio
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 the nose, but flow over the tarsi and clown the checks. 
 This obsti'iKuion of the lachrymal passa;j;cs is termed 
 Jistu/a lachryviuliii. 
 
 Few pans of the human siriicturc have been more 
 frequently or more fully described than the eije. Ana- 
 tomists and opticians have vied with each other in giv- 
 ing a minute account of an organ so curious and so im- 
 portant. Still, liowever, few of their descriptions can 
 be implicitly relied on. The most accurate accounts of 
 the structure of the eye, with which we are acquainted, 
 are contained in Socannering's Ahbildungcn ilcs mencs/i- 
 Ziehen attg'is, or the Latin translation leones Ocuii tlu- 
 mani; 7.nm\ Dcnerilirio Analomiea Oculi Humani,'ia edit.; 
 Monro's Treatinea on the Bniin, the Jiyr, and the liar; Bi- 
 chat's Anatomie Dencri/itive, torn. ii. ; Cuvier's L.'jons 
 d'Anatomie Conifiarec, lom. ii.; and Bell's Anatomy^vtA. 
 iii. part 2. The morbid appearances have been illus- 
 trated chiefly by Scarpa in liis Praetieal Treatise un the 
 Diseases of the J'Ajes, written originally in Italian, and 
 translated into French by Latreille; in a work on the 
 same subject by Beer, of Vienna; and very lately by 
 Mr James Wardiop, in his elegant and interesting Es- 
 says on the Morbid Anatomy of the Human Eye, with co- 
 loured plates, that do equal credit to the author and the 
 artist. 
 
 Exi'L.\NATI0N 0/'Pl.\TE XVIII. 
 
 In this plate are given several views of the encepha- 
 lon, of the intimate structure of the skin, and of the con- 
 tents of the mouth; to illustrate the structure of the 
 common sensorium, and of the organs of feeling and of 
 mastication. 
 
 Fig. 1. Exhibits a inem of a vertical section of the head, 
 showing the ajijiearance of the contents of the skull, fiart 
 of the cavity of the iiostrila, the roof of the mouth, and the 
 fauces. 
 
 A, A, the cut edge of the bones of the skull, showing 
 the distinction between plates and diploe ; a, the situa- 
 tion of the coronal suture; B, part of the left frontal si- 
 nus; C, part of the left sphenoidal sinus; D, the nasal 
 plate of the ethmoid bone ; E, the vomer; F, the cartilagi- 
 nous appendage to the partition of the nostrils; G, the 
 opening from the right nostril to the fauces; H, the pa- 
 late and teeth on the riglu side; I, the spongy interior 
 of the occipital bone, and of the body of the sphenoid 
 bone ; K, the sella turcica; L, L, the root of the falx, the 
 remainder of this membrane being cut away, to show 
 the convolutions on the mesial side of the left hemisphere 
 of the brain, M, M ; N, a section of the corjius callosum; 
 O, the sefvum tucidum; P, \.\\e fornix; Q, Q, its anterior 
 crura; R, the anterior commissure of the brain ; S, the 
 opening by which the lateral ventricles communicate 
 with each other, and with the third ventricle ; T, the 
 left side of the tliird ventricle, basilad of the left thala- 
 mus 7iervi o/itici; U, the i/ifundibuhim, leading irom the 
 third ventricle to V, the pituitary gland ; \V, a section 
 of the right optic nerve ; X, the right corpus albicans; 
 Y, part of the choroid fdexus; Z, the pineal gland, united 
 by a peduncle to a, the posterior commissure of the 
 brain ; b, the passage from the third to the fourth ventri- 
 cle ; c, d, a section of the corpora ijuudrigcmina; e, the 
 valve of Vieussens ;,/", the arbor vi'in of the cerebellum; 
 g, the cavity of 'he fourth ventricle ; h, its bottom ; i, a 
 section of the iuhrr annulare; k, the basilar artery ; /, 
 the medulla oblongata ; m, the commencement of the 
 spinal marrow. 
 
 Fig. -. Rxhibita a horizontal section of the brain, show- 
 ing its internal structure. 
 
 A, A, the corticle or cineritious substance every^ 
 where periphcrad to B, B, B, B, the ineUuilary substance ; 
 
 C, the division between the anterior loiies ; D, D, the 
 anterior arteries of tlie brain; L, Ii, the lateral ventri- 
 cles; F, the fornix cut from its posterior crz/ra, H, H, 
 and turned torward ; G, G, its anterior crura; I, I, the 
 corfiora striata, situated in the glabellar part ol the late- 
 ral ventricles ; K, K, the thaiami of tie optic nerves ; 
 L, L, the fdrxus clioroidisei approaching each other, to 
 pass thiough M, the passage to tlie third ventricle ; N, 
 N, part of the coronal surface of the cerebellum, with 
 its vessels. 
 
 Fig. 3. and 4. Show the a/ifiearance of the base of the 
 enci fihalon, I'lg. 4. refiresenting it in its natural state, 
 •with the blood-vessels and the origins of the cranial 
 nerves on the left side, while Eig. 3. shows its afifiear- 
 ance after these have been removed. The letters in both 
 these figures denote analogous parts, the numbers refer 
 to the nervous trunks, as enumerated in the table of 
 nerves. 
 
 A, A, the anterior lobes of the brain ; B, B, its mid- 
 dle, and C, C, its posterior lobes ; D, D, the lobes of 
 the cerebellum, showing in Fig. 3. tlie concentric lines 
 that appear on its basilar surface ; E, E, the tuber annu- 
 lare, or pons Varolii, most distinct in Fig. 3. ; F, F, the 
 anterior crura of the medulla oblongata; G, its cauda, 
 forming the commencement of the spinal marrow ; H, 
 the corpus pyramidale, and I, the corpus olivare of the 
 right side ; K, K, the union of the optic nerves ; L, the 
 corpus albicans of the right side; M, a part of the infun- 
 dibulum. 
 
 1, The first pair, or olfactoi-y nerves; 2, the root of 
 the left optic nerve, coming off from the point of junc- 
 tion with its fellow; 3, tne third pair, or moiores oculi; 
 4, the fourth pair, or pathetic nerves; 5, the common 
 root of the filth pair, or trifacial nerves; 6, the sixth 
 pair, or abductor nerves ; 7, the common root of the 
 seventli pair; 8, the eighth pair; 9, the ninth pair, 
 or hypoglossal nerves ; 10, the left vertebral artery, 
 coming up to form with its fellow on the opposite side 
 11, the basilar artery; 12, the carotid artery, form- 
 ing with its communicating branch 13, the circle of 
 Willis. 
 
 Fig. 5. Exhibits a view of the different laminx of the 
 integuments, as detected by Mr Cruickshank, in a negro 
 who died in conser/uence of small-pox. 
 
 a. The cuticle, showing the scaly appearance of its 
 central surface; b, the peripheral layer of the rete mu- 
 Cbsum, resembling the cuticle in its appearance, though 
 of a lighter colour; c, the true rete mucosum; d, the 
 membrane of the small-pox, with three variolous pus- 
 tules; e, the substance of the true skin, with its pores. 
 
 Fig. 6. Shows the arrangeni'-nt of the pores of the skin- 
 in the corners of angular figures, as they are described 
 at page 768. 
 
 Fig. 7. Affords a view of the villous papillae of the 
 skin, as they appear on the point of the fore finger, af- 
 ter the rete mucosum and membrane of the small-pox 
 have been removed. 
 
 Fig. 8. Shows the appearance of the back of the m-juth, 
 the hamming palate, and opening into the fauces. 
 
 A, the tongue drawn out over the lower lip ; B, 
 the vclutn pcndulmn ; C, C, its anterior arches ; D, 
 
 D, its posterior arches ; E, E, the tonsils ; F, the 
 uvula.
 
 ANATOIMY. 
 
 777 
 
 Explanation of Plate XXII.* 
 
 This plate contaius views of the internal structure of 
 the ear and the eye. 
 
 Fig. I. Gives a view of the lemfiural bone of the left Me, 
 showing Che cavity of , the tyni/ianum laid open, by remov- 
 ing the bony part of the external auditory /lasaage, and 
 the membrane of the tym/ianum, so us to show the na- 
 tural situation and connection of the small bones. 
 
 A, the bottom of the cavity of the tympanum; B, C, 
 the malleus, with its handle directed downwards, and its 
 small process forwards ; D, the long leg of the incus, 
 connected with E, the stapes, filling up the fenestra 
 ovalis; F, the fenestra rotunda, or round hole leaduig to 
 the cochlea ; f the promontory between this and the 
 oval hole ; G, a superficial canal, in which is lodged the 
 muscle called tensor tym/iani; H, the bony part of the 
 eustachian tube leading to the mouth ; K, the posterior 
 part of the petrous portion of the temporal bone ; L, 
 the squamous portion ; M, a sinus into which enters the 
 internal jugular vein ; N, the commencement of the ca- 
 rotic canal, through which the interior carotid artery 
 enters. 
 
 Fig. 2. Affords a view of the central cavity and wind- 
 ing passages of the labyrinth, the whole of the tympa- 
 num being cut away, and the semicircular canals, and 
 the scala tympani of the cochlea laid open. 
 
 A, the superior semicircular canal ; B, the oblique, 
 and C,the horizontal or posterior canal; D, E, F, G, H, 
 the five orifices by which the semicircular canals open 
 into the vestibule ; K, L, the cavity of the vestibule laid 
 open ; M, that of the cochlea which is left entire, end- 
 ing in N, the cupola or covering of the infundibulum ; 
 O, the opening of the scala tympani, by which the coch- 
 lea communicates with the tympanum ; P, Q, the bony 
 part of the spinal plate that forms the partition between 
 the scalae of the cochlea. 
 
 Fig. 3. Gives an enlarged z'tew of the small bones 
 VJithin the cavity of the tympanum, as they appear in con- 
 nection with each other, and is sufficiently clear to render 
 an explanation unnecessary. 
 
 Fig. 4. Shows the distribution of the acoustic or audi- 
 tory nerves, through the cavities of the semicircular canals. 
 
 A, that part of the superior membranous semicircular 
 canal, called its ampulla or belly. B, the membranous 
 superior canal ; C,the ampulla of the external or oblique 
 canal; D, its other extremity; E, the ampulla of the 
 posterior membranous canal ; F, the course of the pos- 
 terior membranous canal ; G, the common canal formed 
 by the meeting of the superior and posterior membra- 
 nous canals ; H, H, the central part where all the mem- 
 branous canals unite, called the alveus co7n?nunis, or com- 
 mon belly ; I, the trunk of the auditory nerve ; K, its 
 larger branch, giving the filaments, O, O, to the am- 
 pulla of the superior and exterior canals ; M, its lesser 
 branch ; N, filaments sent to the cochlea ; P, the nerve 
 expanded on the common belly ; Q, the portio dura of 
 the seventh pair, passing behind the superior semicircu- 
 lar canal ; R, the commencement of the spiral plate of 
 the cochlea ; T, the body of the cochlea. 
 
 Fig. 5. Shews the distribution of that part of the audi- 
 tory nerve that supplies the passages of the cochlea. 
 
 A, the superior bony semicircular canal; B, the pos- 
 terior, and C, the external bony semicircular canals ; 
 
 D, the bottom of the great internal auditory passage ; E, 
 tiie trunk of the auditory nerve ; F, its anterior fascicu- 
 lus leading to the semicircular canals; (;,a point wliei'c 
 this fasciculus is twisted into a plexus ; 11, a swelling 
 of the nerve forming a ganglion ; I, the greater, and K, 
 the lesser branch of the anterior fasciculus, entering 
 two of the openings of the semiciicular canals ; L, a 
 branch passing to the beginning of tlie spiral plate of 
 the cochlea; M, the posterior fasciculus of the auditory 
 nerve ; N, filaments of tlie nerve entering the cribri- 
 form part of the modiolus ; O, the expansion of these 
 filaments on the modiolus ; P, P, the continuation of the 
 filaments between the two planes of the spiral plate, and 
 terminating on Q, Q, the mcmbiunous part of the plate ; 
 R, R, R, the expansion of other filaments on the secoml 
 turn of the cochlea ; and distributed on the more inter- 
 nal part of the spiral plate ; S, the infundibulum, in 
 which is seen T, U, the last turn of the spiral plate. 
 
 Fig. 6. Jixhibits a front view of the eye, with the eye- 
 lids considerably opened, and the tarsi drawn outwards, to 
 shew the lachry?nal passages, lachrytnal caruncle, and 
 sebaceous glands. 
 
 a, a. The orifices of the sebaceous or meibomian 
 glands, situated at the edge of each eye-lid ; b, a semi- 
 lunar membrane, situated laterad of c, the lachrymal 
 caruncle; d, the puncta lachrymalia, or orifices of the 
 lachrymal ducts, uniting at the mesial angle of the eye ; 
 e, f, the lachrymal sac. 
 
 Fig. 7. Be/ircsents the left eye-ball inits 7iatural situa- 
 tion within the orbit, the temporal side of which is cut away, 
 to shew the disposition and insertion of the nerves and 
 muscles. 
 
 A, the ball of the eye ; B, the lachrymal gland ; ,C, 
 the rectus abductor muscle ; D, the rectus attollens, with 
 its broad insertion ; E, the levator palpcbrx superioris ; 
 F, the rectus depressor ; G, the rectus adductor ; H, the 
 obliquus superior, or trochlearis muscle, passing through 
 I, the cartilaginous pully in the mesial side of the orbit ; 
 K, a part of the obliyuus inferior, where it is inserted 
 into the basilar part of the eye-ball; L, the course of 
 the carotid artery in the receptacle; M, the carotid just 
 penetrating the cavity of the skull ; N, the ophthalmic 
 artery rising from it at that place. 
 
 a. The trunk of the left optic nerve, entering the op- 
 tical hole of the sphenoidal bone ; b, the broad trunk of 
 the fiftji pair of nerves, still within the cavity of the 
 skull ; c, the third branch of the fifth pair, or inferior 
 maxillary nerve ; (/, the second branch, or superior 
 maxillary; f,the first branch or ophthalmic nerve, divid- 
 ing into branches ; f, the first branch of the ophthalmic 
 nerve, dividing into two, and passing to the forehead ; 
 g, a second branch divided into several lesser ramifica- 
 tions passing to the nose ; h, small branches from the 
 nasal branch that go to the edges of the eye-lids ; 7, the 
 lachrymal branch of the first division of the first branch 
 of the fifth pair, passing to the lachrymal gland ; k, the 
 fourth pair, or pathetic nerve, passing to the obliquus 
 superior muscle ; I, n, the sixth pair; m, two nervous 
 filaments by which this last is united with the great 
 sympathetic ; o, the third pair of nerves, or ir.otores oculi; 
 p, q, r, s, t, u, X, various branches of this nerve passing 
 to the different muscles ; y, the ophthalmic ganglion 
 loosened from its connection with the optic nerve, and 
 turned laterad, to shew the divisions of the third pair ; 
 
 • Though this plate is marked XXII. it comes in between XVm. and XIX. and carries on the series of figures to illustrate the organs 
 of sensation. 
 Vol. I. Part II. „, 5 F
 
 r78 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 2, the root of the ophthalmic ganghon, arising from the 
 nerve lh;a supplifs the ublUiuun inferwr muscle ; 2, 3, 4, 
 Sec. other sniull nervous filaments arising from the na- 
 sal branch of the filth pair. 
 
 Fig. 8. Uffircscnln an tnlarged outline view of the se- 
 ■vet-a/ fiarts of the eye-ball and its u/ipoidugcs, as thty 
 winild a/ijiear in a virtical section, su/i/io.ung the eye lu 
 be so pri/iurcd as that every part .ihull preserve its rela- 
 tive situation. 
 
 As this outline, which is taken from professor Soem- 
 mering's admirable plates, afl'ords the most instructing 
 lesson on the internal structure of the eye, we shall be 
 very full in our description of it. 
 
 A, Q, the bony orbit of the eye ; A, H, its superior or 
 coronal part; A, B, the left surface of this part; C, C, 
 G, H, its convex surface next the brain; A, D, E, F, 
 that part of the os fronlis which forms the lorehead ; E, E, 
 medullary cells wiihin the frontal part. F, the left fron- 
 tal sinus ; <?, <p, medullary cells in the orbital plate of 
 the frontal bone ; G, the suture connecting the frontal 
 bone with the large wing of the sphenoid bone ; Q, M, 
 the inferior or basilar part of the orbit ; 1, 1, the upper 
 jaw-bone; K, L, \.\\e. foravxen lacertan, or orbital fissure, 
 filled, in the natural state, with vessels, nerves, tendi- 
 nous fibres and fat; M, that part of the lesser wing of 
 the sphenoid bone which forms the floor of the canal 
 B, H, M, for the optic nerve ; x, x, a line representing 
 the axis of the orbit ; U, V, the dura mater of the en- 
 cephalon, lining the frontal and sphenoid bones, adhering 
 at T, to the periosteum of the oi'bit, at U, to the sheatli 
 of the optic nerve, and at V, to cellular membrane con- 
 nected with the tendons of two of the muscles ; W, Z, 
 the forehead ; Y, the frontal belly of the epicranius 
 muscle, witii fat at Z, lying between it and the perios- 
 teum ; a, d, the eye -brow ; b, the mouth of the frontal 
 vein ; c, the mouth of the frontal artery. 
 
 e, 10, The upper eye-lid ; g, the orbicularis palpebra- 
 rum muscle, w'lth fat behind it at h ; i, the tendon of 
 the levator palpebras superioris muscle ; /, the cartilage 
 or tarsus of the upper eye-lid, with vestiges of the se- 
 baceous follicles at m ; r, r, s, t, the conjunctiva of the 
 upper eye-lid ; lining the cartilage at r, r ; y, the place 
 where the cuticle of the face unites with the conjunc- 
 tiva of the upper eye-lid ; u, the upper cye-lash ; n, the 
 mouth of the coronary artery of the upper eye-lid ; g, 
 the lower eye-lid ; g, e, cartilage of the lower eye-lid ; 
 k, 1, m, n,the conjunctiva of the lower eye-lid, investing 
 at n, m, the sclerotic coat of the eye-ball ; p, the lower 
 eye-lash. 
 
 From 1 to 11, the muscles of the eye-ball and eye- 
 lids; 1, 2, 3, levator palpebrse superioris, fixed and ten- 
 dinous at 1, moveable at 2, where it is extended over 
 the cartilage of the upper eye-lid ; 4, 5, 6, the rectus 
 attollens oculum, with its immoveable tendon, adhering 
 at 4 to the sheath of the optic nerve, and ending at 5 in 
 the sclerotic coat; 7, ^,9, \.\\t rectus drpriinens, adhe- 
 ring by its tendon at 7, to the sheath of the optic nerve, 
 and terminating near m, in the sclerotic coat; 10, the 
 tendon of the obliquus superior muscle ; 15, the fleshy 
 part of the obliquus superior. 
 
 From 12 to 18, the optic nerve running in a serpen- 
 tine direction. Its sheath arising from the dura mater; 
 14, the choroid membrane; 15, its fibrous substance 
 exposed ; 16, a part of the nerve passing through the 
 bony canal, and appearing flattened from above down- 
 ward; 17, its cylindrical portion, contracted at 18, where 
 it enters the ball of the eye, and here is seen the pas- 
 
 sage of the central artery, and the manner in which the 
 membranes of the nerve adhere to the coats of the eye- 
 ball ; 19, a section of the principal trunk, of the ophthal- 
 mic artery ; 20, 20, sections of the trunks of the ophthal- 
 mic veins that surround the eye-ball; 21, twigs of the 
 first branch of the fifth pair ot nerves. 
 
 22, 24, The eye-ball; 22,22, its axis; 23, its greatest 
 transverse diameter; 24, the cornea, shewing its true 
 thickness, convexity and mode of cohesion with the 
 sclerotic ; 25, 26, the space between the cornea and 
 crystalline lens, divided into 25, the anterior chamber, 
 and 26, the posterior chamber ; 24 r, a double groove 
 between the cornea and sclerotic coat ; 27, 28, 29, the 
 sclerotic coat of the eye-ball; 30, the pigmentum ni- 
 grum between the sclerotic and choroid coats; 31, to 
 37, the choroid coat; 34, 35, the corpus ciliare, 36, 37, 
 the iris ; 38, pigmentum nigrum between the choroid 
 coat and the retina; 59, 40, 41, the retina; 42, to 46, the 
 crystalline lens; 42,43, its long diameter ; 44, 45, its 
 short diameter ; 42, 44, 43, its anterior convexity ; 42, 
 45, 43, its posterior convexity ; 46, 26, its capsule ; 34, 
 42, its distance from the ciliary processes. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Org.vns of Digestion. 
 
 The organs employed in the digestion of aliments 
 are numei'ous and important. The function of diges- 
 tion includes several operations, as mastication, or the 
 chewing of the food ; deglutition, or the conveying of 
 it into that organ in which its solution is to be effected ; 
 chylification, or the reducing of it into a fluid homoge- 
 neous mass, proper for the nutrition of the animal. The 
 several organs by which these operations are carried on. 
 will require our particular attention ; and we shall con- 
 sider them in the order in which we have enumerated 
 the operations. 
 
 Sect. I. Organs of Mastication, 
 
 When the food is received into the mouth, it is there, 
 by the action of the lower jaw pressing the teeth against 
 each other, reduced into small pieces, or so divided that 
 it may be intimately mixed with the saliva, and thus 
 prepared for a more easy and speedy solution in the 
 stomach. The organs by which mastication is per- 
 formed are chiefly the teeth, but these are assisted in 
 the process of insalivation by the lips, the tongue, and 
 other parts of the mouth. The mouth in general, as 
 including so many important organs, first deserves no- 
 tice ; and after having considered its general form and 
 varieties, we shall briefly describe each of its compo- 
 nent parts, so far as they have not already been antici- 
 pated. ■• 
 
 There are five principal cavities generally described 
 by anatomists in the human body, t/z. those of the skull, 
 the mouth, the chest, the belly, and the pelvis. We 
 have already examined the contents of the first of these 
 cavities, and we now proceed to the second. The ca- 
 vity of the mouth is bounded on the forepart, or antinial 
 aspect, by the lips ; on the back part, or iniad, by the 
 velum pendulum palati, or hanging palate; on the supe- 
 rior, or coronal aspect, by the vault of the palate ; be- 
 low, or basilad, by the tongue, and the general mucous 
 membrane ; on the sides, or laterad, by the cheeks. In 
 tlic ordinary position of the human body, the dii-ection
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 79 
 
 of this cavity is nearly horizontal. Its diameter from 
 before backwards, is determined chiefly by that of the 
 palatine arch, while its diameter from side to side va- 
 ries with the motion of the cheeks. Tlie size of this 
 gavity is of course extremely various in diilVrcnt indi- 
 viduals ; but in general, it is said by Bichat to bear an 
 inverse proportion to the magnitude of the brain. Its 
 general form is that of an oval, being determined l)y 
 the circumference of the lower jawbone at the chin, 
 and by that of the hanging palate, both of which are 
 rounded. 
 
 The lips generally differ from each other in point of 
 thickness, the upper being in most individuals thicker 
 and more prominent than the lower; though one of our 
 most celebrated old poets. Suckling, has considered the 
 opposite proportion as constituting a principal feature 
 in the portrait of his mistress. 
 
 " Her lips were small, and one was thin, 
 Conipar'd to tliut was next lier chin, 
 Some bee liad sLung it newly." 
 
 The upper lip has a superficial channel in the place 
 of the 7)!esial line, running from the root of the partition 
 of the nostrils, and arising from the strong adhesion of 
 skin to the muscles in this part. The lower lip has a 
 slight prominence, situated vertically in its middle, an- 
 swering to the channel in the upper lip, and it is divi- 
 ded from the chin by an evident transverse depression. 
 The union of the lips at the corners of the mouth, con- 
 stitutes what are called commis.sure.'! of the lips. 
 
 The substance of the lips is composed of three prin- 
 cipal layers, a peripheral or outer layer, formed by the 
 skin ; a central or inner layer, formed by the mucous 
 membrane of the mouth by doublings, to be presently 
 described ; and an intermediate layer, formed by the 
 muscular fibres of the orbicularis oris, and the levator 
 and depressor muscles of the mouth. The first of these 
 layers is remarkable for its thinness, especially on the 
 edges of the lips ; the second is thick, of a loose texture, 
 very red, from its numerous blood-vessels, and is fur- 
 nished with a great many mucous glands of considerable 
 size, lying between it and the muscular fibres, and com- 
 municating with the cavity of the mouth by several ex- 
 cretory ducts. The muscular fibres of the third layer 
 are separated from the first layer by cellular substance, 
 in which there is scarcely any appearance of fat. 
 
 The form and thickness of the lips differ much in the 
 several varieties of the himian species. In the negro 
 ihcy are notoriously thick and prominent, while in most 
 Europeans they are comparatively thin, and project but 
 little. These constitute the two extremes with respect 
 10 the lips ; and their varieties in the natives of other 
 regions, consist chiefly of shades of difference in point 
 of thickness and prominence. 
 
 The velum pendulum palati, or hanging palate (Plate 
 XVIII. Fig. 8.) extends from the posterior margin of 
 the palatine arch, backwards and downwards as far as the 
 opening from the mouth into the gullet, and the root of 
 the tongue. It is nearly of a quadrilateral form ; is con- 
 cave next the cavity of the mouth, and has a longitudinal 
 prominence in the mesial line, which divides it into two 
 equal and similar halves. On each side there is a dense 
 fold, partly membranous, and partly muscular. These 
 folds are sometimes called the fnllars of the soft palate ; 
 they are united next the palatine arch, and separate from 
 each other as they proceed towards the gullet, each of 
 them becoming thicker as it descends, and forming a 
 
 triangidar space, which conluins a particular gland called 
 tonail or almond. Thus there are formed two double 
 arches called thcarc/;r.v of the s'jft palate. At the lower 
 part of the mesial prominence, between the two tonsils, 
 is that part called by anatomists tlie uvula, and in com- 
 mon language the pap of the throat, hanging immediate- 
 ly over the root of the tongue. The uvula is of a coni- 
 cal form, with its base towards the palatine arch, and 
 ending below in a blunt round point. It is this part 
 which, in some inllannnatory affections of the throat, is 
 so much swollen, or, as it is called relaxed, as to touch 
 the tongue, and produce that disagreeable symptom cal- 
 led the falling of the palate ov pap. This body appears 
 to be of a glandular texture. The substance of the soft 
 palate is also composed of three layers ; one mucous, 
 derived from the general mucous membrane of the 
 mouth, investing the palate through its whole surface, 
 and containing, within its folds numerous glands, which 
 compose a distinct and very thick layer between the mu- 
 cous membrane and the muscles, thus forming the se- 
 cond layer of the soft palate ; the third being composed 
 of fibres from all the muscles engaged in the motions of 
 this organ. 
 
 The tonsils, or what are vulgarly called the almo?ids 
 of the ears, are two glandular bodies of an oblong, round- 
 ish form, largest at their inferior extremity. They are 
 composed of several lobes, which are sometimes closely 
 luiited, at others distinctly separated from each other. 
 The whole mass is ol a soft, pulpy texture, and of a 
 grayish colour. The appearance of their outer surface 
 differs according as we examine it on its convex or flat- 
 tened part. On the former surface there are several 
 small openings, which lead to cellular cavities formecl 
 Within the substance of the gland, and often communica- 
 ting with each other. These cells secrete a peculiar 
 fluid, the nature of which is not well understood. This 
 fluid is pressed out by the action of the neighbouring 
 muscles during mastication and deglutition. It is the 
 swelling and inflammation of these glands that forms one 
 of the most distressing symptoms of inflammatory sore 
 throat, called from this circmnstance cynanche tonsilla- 
 ris. In these cases, the tonsils may be felt in their en- 
 larged state below the ears, whence, we suppose, has 
 originated, their vulgar name. For a view of these 
 parts see plate XVIII. Fig. 8, and its explanation at the 
 end of the preceding chapter. 
 
 The soft palate, with its appendages, forms a sort of 
 curtain between the mouth and the opening of the gullet ; 
 it assists in deglutition, and probably in the articulation 
 of the voice. 
 
 The cheeks, which form the lateral boundaries of the 
 mouth, are generally of considerable thickness, and, like 
 the lips, are composed of a layer from the skin, another 
 chiefly from the buccinator and zygomatic muscles, and 
 a third from the mucous membrane of the mouth. Be- 
 tween the muscular layer and the skin there is a great 
 deal of cellular substance, containing, in many cases, a 
 considerable quantity of fat, which forms the plumpness 
 of the cheeks, and by the absorption of which, in certain 
 diseases and states of the system, is produced that lank- 
 ncss which is often so remarkable. 
 
 Through this fatty cellular membrane, runs the ex- 
 cretory duct of the parotid gland, opening within the 
 mouth at a perforation in the buccinator muscle, oppo- 
 site to the second or third grinder of the upper jaw. 
 
 There arc three glandular bodies on each side which 
 secrete the saliva that is mixed with the food during 
 '^ .5 F 2
 
 780 
 
 ANAT031Y. 
 
 mastication, viz. ilic parotid gland, situated in the fore 
 part of tlie car, and Ijclwcen that organ and the angle of 
 the lower jaw, partly covering the mtinsclcr muscle ; the 
 submaxillary gland, lying on the inside of the angle of 
 the lower jaw, and covering the tendon of the bivenler 
 maxilU, and the sublngual gland, lying below the fore 
 part of the tongue. The structure of these glands will 
 he more properly considered wlicn we come to describe 
 the organs of secretion. 
 
 All these organs, and the whole interior of the mouth, 
 are lined with an extensive mucous membrane, that, 
 from its numerous foldings and connections, deserves 
 particular notice. We shall trace its connections, suppo- 
 sing it to commence at some particular part, and in doing 
 this, we shall chiefly follow Bichat, wlio commences with 
 the border of the lower lip. After investing the back 
 part of the lower lip, this mucous membrane is reflect- 
 ed over the body of the jaw-bone, at the symphysis of 
 which it forms a remarkable doubling, called the fre- 
 num of the lip. It then ascends towards the necks of 
 the teeth, and gives off to each socket a promulgation, 
 which, with the periosteum of the jaw, contributes to 
 form the gums. Passing between the teeth, it lines the 
 inner surface of the lower jaw, and at the inner symphy- 
 sis of the jaw forms the fienum of the tongue. Then 
 passing over the sublingual glands, and covering tlie in- 
 ferior surface of the tongue, as far as its point, it advan- 
 ces over this and the edges of the tongue, covers its up- 
 per surface as far as its base, and unites with the mem- 
 brane that covers the epiglottis. This is the course 
 which Bichat supposes the mucous membrane to pursue 
 in the inferior or basilar portion of the mouth; and we 
 iTiay suppose it to follow a similar route from the edge 
 of the upper lip, and its anterior surface, where it forms 
 a similar frenum over the alveolar processes of the up- 
 per jaw-bones, where it also contributes to form the gums, 
 then lining the palatine arch, and the inner surface of 
 the x'clian fie7idulum, over the lower border of which it 
 is reflected, and meets the pituitary membrane that 
 comes behind from the nostrils. Again, we trace it 
 from the commissures of the lips, lining the inside of 
 the cheeks, and proceeding downward, covers the lateral 
 borders and pillars of the vtlum jie7idutum^\nc\\\(\m^\he. 
 tonsils, and uniting with the portion which we have just 
 before traced. Throughout the whole extent of this 
 mucous membrane there are numerous glands contained 
 within its doublings, and its surface next the cavity of 
 the mouth is lined with a very delicate ejiidermis, or, as 
 it is called by anatomists, ejiithellum. 
 
 The principal organs of mastication are, as we have 
 said, the teeth, the structure and developement of which 
 are among the most curious enquiries, that can occupy 
 the attention of the anatomist and physiologist, and have 
 accordingly been examined by both with great minute- 
 ness. 
 
 The number of teeth in a full-grown man is usually 
 32, 16 in each jaw. These are divided into classes, ac- 
 cording to their form or uses. The four front teeth in 
 each jaw are called incisores incisivi, or cutting teeth ; the 
 single teeth that stand next these on each side are called 
 canini, or cus/iidali, dog or eye teeth ; next these stand 
 two teeth on each side, which from their ending in two 
 projecting points, have been called bicus/iides, or two 
 pointed teeth. They are also called small grinders. 
 These are most distinct in the upper jaw, as in the 
 lower jaw the points, and especially those next the 
 tongue, are much less prominent. The three teeth on 
 
 each side of these last, have three, four, or five project- 
 
 ing points, and arc called molarcs, <jr grinders. 
 
 Each of these teeth is said to consist of three parts ; 
 a body, wliich is that part without the sockets ; roots or 
 fangs, by which they are fixed in the sockets ; and a 
 neck between these, which is surrounded by the gums. 
 The classes of teeth we have enumerated difier from 
 each other, both in the form of tiieir bodi( s, and in the 
 form and number of their tangs. (Plate XIX. Fig. 1, 2.) 
 Tlie bodies of the cutting teeth are ilat and broad, 
 rounded on the fore part, and generally a little concave 
 internally, and end in a sharp or cutting edge, which' is 
 sometimes a little serrated. These teeth have each a 
 single fang, which is usually flattened at the sides. The 
 bodies of the canine teeth are neai'ly wedge-shaped, but 
 their extremities, especially in the upper jaw, are more 
 pointed than those of the cutting teeth, and the fangs 
 are larger, thicker, and more flattened on the sides than 
 those of the former, and sink much deeper in the sock- 
 ets. The bicuspidated teeth, beside differing from the 
 two former in their pointed extremities, have each a 
 large double fang, which, from a depression on each 
 side, appears like two fangs united ; and indeed some- 
 times, especially in the upper jaw, these teeth have twrj 
 distinct fangs. The bodies of the grinders are large 
 and thick, and a horrizontal section of them appears 
 nearly squaTe. (Fig. 3,4, and 5.) They diifer much, and 
 pretty regularly, in the number of their points. The 
 grinder next the bicuspidated teeth on each side in the 
 upper jaw, has usually four points, and the rest in that 
 jaw have seldom more than three ; while the first grind- 
 er in the under jaw has generally five, and the others 
 four points. Most of the grinders have two, and some 
 of them three fangs, passing through separate orifices 
 in the jaw, and spreading widely from each other as 
 they enter. These fangs are flattened from before back- 
 wards, and not laterally, as in the other teeth. The 
 last or most backward grinders are often called denies 
 safiientix, or wisdom teeth, as they are seldom cut be- 
 fore the age of puberty, when most young people arc 
 supposed to attain the years of discretion. All the 
 roots or fangs of the teeth are of a conical form, broad- 
 est next the body of the tooth, and gradually tapering to 
 a point. Each fang is perforated with a canal for the 
 passage of blood-vessels and nerves, from the socket to 
 the body of the tooth ; and each fang is invested with a 
 fieriosteum or membrane, derived from the inner sides 
 of the sockets. 
 
 In the human adult, the teeth are composed of two 
 substances ; a bony matter differing in some respects 
 from the other bony parts of the system, forming the 
 fangs and central part of the body of the tooth ; and a 
 much harder white, shining substance, covering the 
 outer part of the body, usually called enamel., and lately 
 denominated by Dr Blake, cortex utriatvs, or striated 
 portion, from its appearance when minutely examined. 
 
 The bony part is seldom perfectly solid, but contains 
 within it a central cavity, having nearly the form of the 
 tooth, and filled with a soft vascular substance. These 
 cavities decrease as the person advances in life, and are 
 at last nearly obliterated. Their appearance is represent- 
 ed at a, Fig. 6. and 7, Plate XIX. The enamel, or stri- 
 ated portion of the teeth, invests the bony part only in 
 the body of the tooth, and is thickest towards the cut- 
 ting or grinding surface. This portion is composed of 
 fibres standing nearly parallel to each other, and per- 
 pendicular to the body of the tooth (see Fig. 6. and 7, c.) ;
 
 ANATO.MY. 
 
 '81 
 
 A structare whicli may easily be seen with a magnifying 
 glass in a broken tooth. This enamel is extremely hard, 
 and IS not capable, like the bony part of the tooth, of re- 
 ceiving- a tinge from absorption of the particles of mad- 
 der. 
 
 Towards the fangs, where the enamel ceases, there 
 is a remarkable change in the appearance of the bony 
 part, which is here semi-transparent, resembling horn. 
 That the several parts composing the teeth differ both 
 from each other, and from the ordinary bones that form 
 the skeleton, is proved, as well from their want of that 
 reticulated texture which distinguishes the latter, as from 
 the difterent proportions of their chemical constituents. 
 See Chemistry. 
 
 Though the gums are among the most insensible paits 
 of the body, so that they may be cut, or even torn with 
 impunity, the teeth are, as is well known to the martyrs 
 of toothacli, extremely sensible. This exquisite sensi- 
 bility seems to reside wholly in the internal pulp, or the 
 vascular membrane that lines the cavity of the tooth. 
 The nerves that supply the teeth are derived from the 
 maxillary nerves, and both these and the corresponding 
 arteries send a branch through each fang as they pass 
 by the sockets. 
 
 It is well known, that an infant at birth is almost al- 
 ways without teeth, and that a few months after birth 
 the front teeth begin to make their appearance through 
 the gum. The gradual formation of the teeth within the 
 jaws has not, till lately, been fully understood. Repeat- 
 ed observation has shewn, that the ossification of the 
 jaws begins to take place in the foetus about two months 
 after conception, before which time these parts are en- 
 tirely composed of membrane and cartilage. By de- 
 grees the jaw-bones, which, for a long time, were com- 
 posed of at least two pieces, begin to unite towards the 
 chin ; two bony plates are formed, one next the cheeks, 
 and the other next the cavity of the mouth, leaving be- 
 tween them a groove, or channel, containing vessels, 
 nerves, and little soft, pulpy bodies, which are the rudi- 
 ments of the teeth, and which are separated from each 
 other by peculiar membranes. As the ossification of the 
 jaws advances, bony fibres shoot across from plate to 
 plate, gradually forming an inclosure around each pulpy 
 body, and constituting the future sockets of the first 
 teeth. Usually, between the eighth and ninth months 
 after conception, bony fibres begin to appear in the pulpy 
 rudiments of the teeth, and at birth a bony shell is form- 
 ed round each, surrounded by a peculiar membrane, 
 which is thickest next the gum. As this Ijony shell 
 increases, the central pulp diminishes ; but, from being 
 at first nearly of a spherical figure, it is gradually length- 
 ened out to form the central part of the future fangs. 
 As the ossification proceeds, the tooth gradually rises 
 in the socket, and advances with its investing membrane 
 towards the surface of the gum. Now, the striated por- 
 tion begins to be formed, and appears to be secreted 
 from the investing membrane of the bony shell; as this 
 membrane disappears, in proportion as the enamel is 
 produced. The front teeth generally begin to make 
 their appearance about the sixth, seventh, or eighth 
 month, after birth ; and those first cut are generally the 
 middle incisors of the lower jaw ; about the twelfth or 
 fourteenth month, the bicuspidated teeth, or small grind- 
 ers of the lower jaw, besjin to make their appC -nee, 
 and, about the twentieth month, the cuspidated or eye- 
 teeth. These periods vary considerably in different 
 children, some beginning to cut their teeth by the fourth 
 
 or fifth month, while others remain without any teeth for 
 more than two years ; but, in most instances, by the time 
 the child has attained its third year, it has acquired 20 
 teeth, viz. all the front or cutting teeth, the four eye- 
 teeth, tlie four bicuspidated teeth, and tlie first grinders 
 on each side. 
 
 All these are but temporary teetli; for, as the jaws 
 gradually extend, while the teeth, Irom the hardness of 
 their substance, admit, when fully formed, of but little 
 increase in size, it was necessary that larger teeth should 
 be provided, to fill up the enlarged spaces of the sock- 
 ets. For this purpose, an admirable organization has 
 been contrived by nature within the body of the jaw- 
 bones. A second row of pulpy bodies is found at an 
 early period in the channel between the two plates of 
 the jaw-bones, and more deeply situated than the rudi- 
 ments of the first teeth, each enveloped in its proper 
 membrane, and gradually advancing towards the gum, 
 as that substance is penetrated by the first or temporary 
 teeth. Not only is each of these second teeth furnished 
 with a distinct investing membrane, but each of them 
 is inclosed within a distinct socket, separate d from the 
 sockets of the temporary teeth by bony fibres. When 
 the rudiments of the second or permanent teeth first 
 appear, they are nearly in contact with the temporary 
 teeth; but, as these latter advance beyond the gum, 
 their sockets appear to rise, leaving the rudiments of 
 the permanent teeth at a considerable distance. When 
 a child has reached its fourth year, these permanent 
 teeth arc fiu- advanced in ossification, (Plate XIX. Fig. 8.) 
 and, at this period, according to Dr Blake, there are 
 more teeth formed and forming, than at any other age, 
 as 26 may now be counted in eaoli jaw. 
 
 The shedding of the temporary teeth generally begins 
 when a child is about six or seven years of age, by 
 which time the jaws are considerably extended. The 
 temporary sockets are now gradually absorbed ; the 
 bony partition between these and the permanent sockets 
 is thus removed, and these latter begin to assume their 
 proper form. The appearance of the second set of teeth 
 takes place nearly in the same order as that of the tem- 
 porary teeth, except that the grinders are cut before 
 the bicu.i/iidrs. By the twelfth or fourteenth year, the 
 cutting of the permanent teeth is in general completed, 
 except with respect to the last grinders, or di-ntes sapi- 
 cnti£. We need scarcely remark, that, in declining 
 age, such teeth as have not been broken, worn down, 
 or extracted, gradually fall out; but it is extraordinary, 
 that, in a few cases, some few new teeth appear, even 
 in extreme old age. 
 
 The form of the mouth is much influenced by the 
 presence or absence of the teeth. In the infant soon 
 after birth, the alveolar margin of the palate, and the 
 upper edge of the lower jaw, are very flat, and, from, 
 this circumstance, the distance between the nose and 
 the chin is small, and the facial ans:le larger than at 
 any future period. A similar effect takes place when 
 the teeth are lost in old age ; but, at this time, from the 
 greater projection of the base of the lower jaw, the nose 
 and chin appear to approach much nearer to each other. 
 The state of the gums, both before dentition, and after 
 the loss of the teeth, is nearly the same. At both periods 
 a callous rim is formed on the edges of the gum, calcu- 
 lated in infancy for pressing on the nipple, and, in old 
 age, for supplying, in some measure, the want of teeth. 
 
 We have thus traced the progress of the teeth, from 
 their first appearance to their final loss. We purposely
 
 782 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 avoid detailing the symptoms that accompany dentition, 
 and the theories by which they have been explained, 
 as these belong more properly to I'uture articles. To 
 complete our account ot" the organs of mastication, it 
 remains only to notice the structure and connections of 
 the lower jaw-bone ; but, as these have been sufficiently 
 explained in our table of the bones, and as the motions 
 of the lower jaw may be understood from the attach- 
 ments and functions of its muscles, as given in the table 
 of muscles, it is unnecessary to enter more miimtcly into 
 tills part of the subject. 
 
 Of the morbid appearances of the organs of mastica- 
 tion, those of the teeth and gums are chiefly enlilled 
 to notice. The teeth are often irregularly placed, so 
 as to interfere with each other, and require some of 
 them to be removed ; ami, in some cases, this removal 
 is rendered necessary, by the teeth having superfluous 
 fangs, or fangs with projecting excrescences. It now 
 and then happens, that one or more of the fangs of a 
 tooth is wanting, owing to its having been absorbed in 
 consequence of inflammation. The caries or rottenness 
 of the teeth is too common to require particular notice ; 
 but we may remark, that the teeth are sometimes dis- 
 coloured, and even rendered almost black, where no 
 previous inflammation or toothach appears to have taken 
 place. The substance called tartar, that usually collects 
 about the neck of the teeth, when proper attention is not 
 paid to keeping them clean, appears to be a deposition 
 from the saliva. The gums are often spongy, and bleed 
 on the slightest touch ; sometimes they are ulcerated, 
 and in a few cases affected with fungous excrescences. 
 
 For the best anatomical account of the mouth and its 
 appendages, we may refer our readers to Bichat's Ana- 
 tomic Deserifiiivr, tom. ii. p. 563 ; and for the best ac- 
 count of the teeth, see Albinus's Annotationen Acade- 
 jiiicic, lib. ii. ; Cuvicr's Lejon.i d'Anatomie Comfiaree, 
 tom. iii. ; Soemmering De Corporis Hiunani Fabrica, 
 vol. i. ; the WT)rks of Hunter and Fox on the KaturaL 
 History of the Human Teeth ; Blake's Mssaij on the 
 Structure and Formation of the Teeth in Man and vari- 
 ous Animals ; Hoffman De Dentibus eorumque ATorbis et 
 Curu J and Bell's Anatomy of the Human Body, vol. iv. 
 
 Sect. H. Organs of Deglutition. 
 
 The organs employed in swallowing the food are 
 chiefly the pharynx and gullet, assisted by the tongue 
 and soft palate. 
 
 The pharynx is a fimnel-shaped cavity, situated be- 
 hind the soft palate, in that aperture called by anatomists 
 the isthmus faucium, or opening of the throat. It is pro- 
 perly the commencement of that long, irregular, winding 
 passage, called the alimentary canal, which traverses 
 all the cavities of the body, from the mouth downwards. 
 It is this organ which receives the food from the mouth, 
 and conveys it into the gullet. The pharynx is bounded 
 above by the basilar process of the occipital bone; on 
 the fore part by the cavities of the nose, and by the la- 
 rynx ; behind by the bodies of the cervical vertebras, 
 and below it ends in the gullet. It is in a manner sus- 
 pended froiTv the pterygoid processes of the sphenoid 
 bone, and from the horns of the os hyoides and thyroid 
 cartilages. Strictly speaking, it forms only half a cavity, 
 being imperfect on the fore part, where it serves as a 
 common receptacle, both to the fond that is about to 
 pass into the gullet, and the air that enters the wind- 
 pipe. Its internal surface is more extensive than its ex- 
 
 ternal, as it consists of membranous productions from 
 the pillars of the soft palate, and other neighbouruig 
 parts. This internal membrane is not of so deep a red 
 as that of the mouth, thougii of a higher colour than tiie 
 mem.brane that lines the gullet; and this dilference of 
 colour forms one of the most distinct marks of separa- 
 tion between the gullet and what is properly called the 
 pharynx. Within this membrane are numerous mucous 
 glands, with excretory ducts opening into the cavity of 
 the pharynx. The external or peripheral surface of tlie 
 pharynx is composed of numerous muscular fibres, con- 
 stituting three distinct portions, which have been called 
 the constrictor nmscles of the pharynx, and running 
 transversely with difl'erent degrees of inclination, ac- 
 cording to their points of attachment. 
 
 The Oesophagus, gula, or gullet, is a long canal, 
 partly fleshy, and partly muscular, that leads from the 
 pharynx to the stomach. It is commonly said to be cy- 
 lindrical, though in its ordinary, inactive state, its sides 
 are applied closely to each other. It passes through the 
 chest, close to the bodies of the vertebra of the neck 
 and back, within the doubling of the mediastinum ; but 
 it does not pursue a straight direction. Until it arrives 
 at the lower part of the neck, it runs in the direction 
 of the mesial line, but here it inclines insensibly to the 
 left, preserving this direction till it arrives at that part 
 of the chest where the windpipe divides and enters the 
 lungs, when it resumes its former mesial course. On 
 the fore part the gullet is closely connected with the 
 larynx, the tiiyroid gland, the left side of the windpipe, 
 and the inferior thyroid artery on the left side ; behind 
 to the bodies of the cervical and dorsal vertebrae, the 
 aorta, and the thoracic duct ; and on the sides it runs 
 along with the jugular veins and the carotid arteries. 
 It is composed principally of two layers, a peripheral 
 muscular layer, and a central membranous lining. The 
 former is made up of two sets of muscular fibres, of 
 which those on the peripheral surface run in a longitu- 
 dinal direction, while the odiers run transversely or cir- 
 cularly. The membranous lining differs little from that 
 of the pharynx, except that it is of a whiter colour. 
 Between the muscular coat and the mucous membrane 
 there is a quantity of cellular substance, which has been 
 termed by some anatomists, the nerz'GUs coat ; and with- 
 in this, next the mucous membrane, lie numerous glands, 
 which are more thickly set at that part of the gullet 
 where it joins the stomach. These glands secrete a 
 lubricating fluid, which is poured through correspond- 
 ing orifices into the cavity of the tube, and facilitates 
 deglutition. The gullet is well supplied with nerves, 
 both from the eighth pair and the intcrcostals, and with 
 numerous absorbent vessels. Its arteries will be noticed 
 hereafter. 
 
 The gullet is susceptible of great dilatation, as ap- 
 pears from the large masses which occasionally pass 
 through it. 
 
 We have said, that the tongue assists in the process 
 of deglutition, and this it does chiefly by means of two 
 appendages which we have not yet described One of 
 these is a cartilaginous lid, nearly of a hemispherical 
 shape, attached to the root of the tongue, and which, in 
 the act of swallowing, covers the opening into the wind- 
 pipe. It is therefore called the f/^/g-Zo/?;*. See Plate XIV. 
 Fig-v-K-and 6. E. This part can scarcely be said to as- 
 sist in deglutition, though, during that process, it is 
 always in action. The other organ is more immediately 
 subservient to deglutition. This is tlie os hyoides, or.
 
 ANAT03IY. 
 
 "8: 
 
 «s it is commonly called, the bone of the tongue. This 
 bone has received its name Irom iis Ijuuig siiiiped like 
 the letter U ; it is situated immediately at tne root of 
 the tongue, to which, and the neighbouring parts, it is 
 closely connected by numerous and important muscles. 
 See the Tables of tlie liones and tlic Muscles. The body 
 of this bone is seated torwards, while its horns project 
 backwards to tlie opening of the gullet. See f-'lale XIV. 
 Fig. 5. A, a, a. In the act of swallowing, this bone is 
 drawn strongly upwards, while the epiglottis is forced 
 downwards. Thus, the opening to the gullet is en- 
 larged, and the communication between the pharynx and 
 the wind-pipe is cut off'. 
 
 Several morbid appearances have been observed in 
 the organs of deglutition. The gullet is often found 
 lined with a layer of coagulated lymph, arising from 
 previous inflammation. Strictures or contractions of 
 the gullet are not uiifrcquent, arising sometimes from a 
 puckering of the mucous membrane, but more gene- 
 rally from iiiflanmiation and consequent ulceration, or 
 from scirrhous tumours, either within the gullet, or in 
 the neighbouring parts. Some part of the gullet has 
 occasionally been found cartilaginous. The morbid ap- 
 pearances of the pharynx are chiefly fungous or scirr- 
 hous tumours growing within it, and sometimes this 
 cavity is dilated towards the gullet into a bag or pouch. 
 
 On the structure of the organs of deglutition, see 
 Blculand's Obsei-vationes Anal omico- Medic x dc Sana ct 
 Morbosa Oeso/i/iag-i Striiciura, published at Leyden in 
 1785, with several coloured plates, that represent, in a 
 lively manner, the appearance of the membranous lining 
 of the gullet ; Bichat's Anatomic Descri/itivc, tom. iii. p. 
 379.; and Cuvicr's Anatomic Comjiarec, tom. iii. p. 366. 
 Some good figures, illustrative of the anatomy of the 
 gullet, are attached to a thesis, De Dys/i/uigia, by Dr 
 Monro tertius, published at Edinburgh in 1797. 
 
 Sect. III.— Organs of Cliylijication. 
 
 In converting: the food into that nutritious milky fluid 
 called chyle, it has generally been supposed that a very 
 complicated apparatus is necessary. Accordingly nume- 
 rous organs are described by anatomists, as chylo-/ioetic 
 viscera, viz. the stomach, intestines, and mesentery, as 
 more immediately concerned ; and the liver, the pan- 
 creas, the spleen, &c. as assistant chylo-fioctic viscera. 
 There is no doubt that all these organs, in some mea- 
 sure, concur in preparing the food for affording nourish- 
 ment to the animal system, though recent observation 
 has shewn that the stomach is the principal organ con- 
 cerned. In the present section, we shall confine our- 
 selves to the stomach and intestines, with some of their 
 connecting membranes. We shall describe the liver, 
 spleen, and pancreas, under the organs of secretion. 
 
 The stomach is a large expanded portion of the ali- 
 mentary canal ; the figure of which has been compared 
 to that of the bag of a bagpipe, being largest at one end, 
 tapering towards the otlier, where it again extends a 
 little, and ending by another contracted portion at t^e 
 commencement of the small intestines. The stomach 
 is situated at the upper part of the belly, a little towards 
 the left side, nearly fitting the left hypochondriac region 
 ■with its large extremity, stretching thence through what 
 is called the epigastric region, where it terminates with 
 a curve backwards towards the spine; see Plate XIX. 
 Fig. 9. and 1 1 . O. Above it is connected by the oesopha- 
 gus, at that orifice called the cardia, with the diaphragm, 
 
 and with part of the liver ; below it is united, by a par- 
 ticular membrane, to the largest portion of the intes- 
 tines called colon. Its fore part is in contact with the 
 membiane of the belly next the recti muscles, and the 
 false ribs ; while on the back part, it is secured by the 
 membranes that connect the several parts of tlie alimen- 
 tary canal. The extremity next the intestines has been 
 called fiylorus, because the stomach is, during diges- 
 tion, here contracted, so as to cut off, as by a gate, the 
 communication with the bowels. Between the cardia 
 and the pylorus there are two rounded holders or curva- 
 tures of the stomach ; one a little slernad and sacrad, 
 which is convex, and very large, and is called the great 
 curvature ; the other dorsad, or towards the back part, 
 concave next the spine, and called the lesser curvature. 
 When the stomach is empty, the greater curvature in- 
 clines towards the sacrum ; but when this cavity is dis- 
 tended with food, the great curvature rises, and projects 
 forward. Towards the left, the large extremity of the 
 stomach terminates in a close pouch, considerably be- 
 yond the entrance of the gullet. 
 
 The stomach, considered in its intimate structure. Is, 
 like the rest of the alimentary can.il which we have to 
 describe, composed of three coats, or layers ; the most 
 peripheral or outmost of which consists of a smooth se- 
 rous membrane, formed, as will hereafter appear, by a 
 reflected portion of ihe fieritoneum. This coat is thence 
 called the peritoneal coat of the stomach, and serves 
 chiefly to connect this organ with the rest of the viscera, 
 and by its smoothness to facilitate its movements in the 
 belly. This coat is furnished with but few nerves and 
 blood-vessels. Within it, and connected to it by cellular 
 substance, is a layer of muscular fibres, forming the 
 muscular coat, to wliich the stomach owes its strength 
 and power of contraction. This coat is thin, and its 
 fibres, from being of a whitish colour, are not very dis- 
 tinct. There are, however, in the stomach, as in the 
 gullet, two orders of muscular fibres; one running 
 longitudinally, in the direction of the great curvature, 
 but rather few in number, and not very regularly dispo- 
 sed; the others circular, more evident and numerous. 
 These last are more properly tlie muscular fibres of the 
 stomach; the former being a continuation of the fibres 
 of the gullet. The circular fibres are few in number 
 near the cardia, but gradually accumulate towards the 
 fiylorus ; and are most remarkable at a little distance 
 from that orifice, towards the middle of the stomach. 
 The greater accumulation of muscular fibres at this 
 part will be found to deserve particular notice, as it ex- 
 plains an important step in the process of digestion. 
 What is properly called tlic third coat of the stomach, 
 is a continuation of the mucous membrane of the gullet, 
 or, rather, it is a portion of that general investing mta- 
 cous membrane that lines the whole alimentary canal. 
 It is in the stomach that this membrane first begins to 
 assume the appearance of plaits, or folds, which are, as 
 wo shall see, so remarkable in some of the intestines. 
 The folds within the stomach are, however, scarcely 
 visible, except when this cavity is empty. They are 
 indeed merely accidental, and appear to be owing to an 
 irregular contraction of the muscular fibres, puckering 
 up the mucous memljrane. This membrane is connected 
 to the former coat by cellular substance, which, as we 
 remarked in describing the gullet, has been ranked as a 
 fourth coat, under the name oi nervous. The stomach 
 has numerous blood-vessels and absorbents, and receives 
 its nerves, which are most numerous next the cardia,
 
 784 
 
 ANAT031Y. 
 
 from the great sympathetics and fiar vagunu There 
 are luinu-rous niiiuUc glaiuls spread over the nUernal 
 iTienibraiie of the stomach, next the small eurvaturc ; 
 but they are scarcely to be seen in any other part. 
 
 When food is received into the stomach, the muscu- 
 lar fibres, at that part where they are most abundant, 
 are thrown into contraction, so as to divide the cavity 
 into two portions : a larger next the great end ot the 
 stomach, which is called by Mr Home the cardiac por- 
 tion ; and a lesser portion, called the pyloric, as being 
 next the Jiytorus. By this separation, the food is retain- 
 ed in the great end of the stomach, till it has been suffi- 
 ciently acted on by the juices secreted into that cavity, 
 when the contraction ceasing, it is suffered to pass into 
 the pyloric portion, where it first begins to be converted 
 into chyle. See Phil. Trans. 1807, part II. 
 
 The glands situated within tlie mucous membrane of 
 the stomach secrete a fluid that is plentifully poured into 
 the cavity, and forms the general solvent of the food. 
 This is called the gastric juice. We know little of this 
 fluid except from its effects ; for, though many attempts 
 have been made by Spallanzani, Gosse and others, to 
 collect and analyse it, it is probable that the liquor they 
 obtained was a mixture of gastric juice with saliva and 
 7nucus. Indeed, it seems likely that it is never secreted 
 in any great quantity except during digestion. From the 
 great variety of substances which it is capable of dis- 
 solving, and from its action on the stomach after death, 
 ve know that it is a very powerful chemical agent in 
 decomposing animal and vegetable bodies, though we 
 cannot determine on what its activity depends. The 
 information that has been acquired respecting it will be 
 given in the article Chemistry and Physiology. 
 
 We have said that the intestines commence from the 
 pylorus of the stomach. These, though only a continua- 
 tion of the same canal, arc, for convenience, divided 
 into several portions, distinguished by particular names. 
 First, with respect to their size they are divided into 
 small and large intestines, the fonncr extending from 
 the (njlorus of the stomach to a large and sudden dilata- 
 tion of the canal. This is the most natural division, for 
 the portions into which the small and the great intes- 
 tines are divided, are merely artificial. 
 
 The first portion of the small intestines is supposed 
 to extend about twelve fingers-breadth from the pylorus, 
 and is thence called duodenum. Its limits are more pre- 
 cisely ascertained than that of the other small intestines. 
 The course of this part of the intestines from the pylo- 
 rus, is obliquely across the spine, a little downward, 
 and towards the right side, where it is connected with 
 all the neighbouring organs, in particular with the gall- 
 bladder, to all of which it is bound by the general in- 
 vesting membranes.* The duodenum is nearly cylin- 
 drical, or at least a transverse section of it is circular ; 
 it is of a larger diameter than any other part of the 
 small intestines, though considerably less than tlie pylo- 
 ric portion of the stomach. This bowel is perforated 
 
 inter,.ally by a tube from the liver and the gall-bladder, 
 to be afterwards descriljed. 
 
 The rest of the small intestines have, by most anato- 
 mists, been divided into two portions, jejunum and ilium ; 
 but, as this division is merely arbitrary, and not, as far 
 as we can perceive, attended with any advantage, we 
 shall follow Mailer and Bichat in considering them as 
 one, and we shall give them the appropriate name of 
 small intestines, as they are of less diameter than any 
 other part of the alimentary canal. This portion is 
 very long, and fills up the greatest part of the belly with 
 its numerous windings or concolutions (See Plate XIX. 
 Figs. 9. and 11, R, R, R) ; though it occupies chiefly 
 the umbilical region of the belly, and the atlantal or 
 upper part of tlie pelvis. The length of the small in- 
 testines has been estimated at four or five times that of 
 tlie body to which they belong, though this must be ta- 
 ken with some limitation. They float loosely towards 
 the fore part and sides of the belly, but are firmly con- 
 nected and confined towards the spine by their common 
 membrane. Their peripheral or outer surface, is ex- 
 tremely smooth and equal, thus allowing the freest mo- 
 tion to the bowels. The small intestines terminate 
 suddenly by a peculiar structure, which will be noticed 
 immediately, about the middle of the right iliac region. 
 
 Where the small intestines terminate in the right 
 iliac region, a sudden expansion takes place in the ali- 
 mentary canal, forming the commencement of the large 
 intestines, which after crossing the belly on the fore part, 
 and almost entirely surrounding the small intestines, ter- 
 minate in the anus. This expanded portion has also been 
 divided by minute anatomists into three portions, called ce- 
 cum, colon, and rectum. As the first of these, however, is 
 merely the beginning of the colon, and is accordingly by 
 some called the caput caecum coli, the blind or close head 
 of the colon, we shall consider the large intestines as 
 divided into colon and rectum. 
 
 The colon commences, as we have said, in the right 
 iliac region, by a sudden and considerable expansion. 
 Hence it ascends through the right hypochondriac, and 
 right lumbar region, from which it crosses the fore part 
 of the belly immediately below the stomach, to the left 
 hypochondriac, and left lumbar region, from which it de-- 
 scends through the left iliac region, where it makes two 
 remarkable turns, one towards the fore part of the belly, 
 and another towards the sacrum, forming what is called, 
 from its resemblance to the letter S, the sigmoid flexure 
 of the colon ; and here it imperceptibly terminates in 
 the rectum. Hence this intestine has been divided in- 
 to four portions, (not including the cdcuni), denominated 
 the right lumbar colon, the transverse colon, or the arch 
 of the colon, the left lumbar colon, and the left iliac co- 
 lon, or sigmoid flexure. The direction and general ap- 
 pearance of these last three portions are well expressed 
 in Fig. 1 1, of PI. XlX.t The diameter of the colon is 
 greatest at its commencement in the cacum, where it 
 forms a large bag nearly cubical, into which the ilium 
 
 • In the text we have described the course of the duodenum in a very general manner, because, as the organs near which it passes 
 have not yet been considered, it would not be easy for sucli of our riders as are unacquainted with the situation of these parts, to 
 understand a more minute description. As the direction of this intestine is, however, of considerable practical importance, we shall 
 here supply the deficiency of tlie text. The duodenum twice chang-es its co^u'se in two remarkable points. It first runs horizontally 
 backwards, and a little to the right till it reaches tlie neck of the gall-bladder, where it makes a sudden turn almost perpendicularly 
 towards the third vertebra of the loins and the right kidney. At the third vertebra it is directed transversely to the left before the 
 spine, and terriiin.ates .at a particular place, where it is crossed by tlie superior mesenteric arteries, thus forming, in its course, a sort of 
 semicircle, with its convex part directed towards the right. The flexures of tlie duodenum are well expressed in one of Haller's plates 
 of the viscera. See liis hunes Anatoinictt. 
 
 I The turn that the colon makes at the right side, where it is attached to the li-cer, is called the hepatic flexure ; and that on the lef\, 
 where it passes by the spleen, the splenic flexure.
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 projects in such a manner as to form a sort of valve, 
 which ill general prevents any return of the contents of 
 the colon into the small intestines. The situation and 
 structure of this valve will be better uncierstootl when 
 we shall have described the internal uienibranc of the 
 alimentary canal. The lower part of lliis conmiencc- 
 ment of the colon extends downwards, or .lacrad, into a 
 large close cavity, whence the name of cxciim, while in 
 the (jppositc direction appears the cavity of the riglit 
 lumbar colon. Towards the right and back part of tlie 
 cacuiii, on its external surface, there is a remarkable ap- 
 pendage, forming a hollow tube of small iliumeter, call- 
 ed, from its resemblance to a worm, the virmifurin a/i- 
 jiendix. This small tube is composed of coats, that arc 
 very thick in proportion to the diameter of its cavity; is 
 smooth and whitish on its exterior surface, while within 
 it is lined by a mucous membrane, from wiiich exudes 
 a considerable quantity of a glutinous fluid, which is 
 poured through an opening into the upper part of the 
 cxcum near the iliac valve. From the cKcum to the 
 transverse arch of the colon, the diameter of this intes- 
 tine is smaller than in any other part, being very little 
 superior to that of the small intestines; but the trans- 
 verse arch is of very considerable size. Along the 
 whole peripheral surface of the colon, wc observe three 
 longitudinal bands, which have by some been called li- 
 gamentous, though there can be no doul)t that they are 
 composed ot longitudinal muscular fibres. One of these 
 is di:,tinctly seen at Y, Y, Y, Fig. 11, PI. XIX. By 
 these bands the colon is divided longitudinally into three 
 parts, and by tiie contraction of the muscular fibres, it is 
 puckered up into numerous divisions, which are com- 
 monly called tiie cells of the colon. 
 
 The colon is firmly fixed in the different regions, and 
 connected to the neighbouring parts by membranes, that 
 will be presently noticed, through its whole extent, ex- 
 cept at the sigmoid flexure, where it floats loosely in 
 the cavity of the belly, like the small intestines. Two 
 particular parts of the jicritonexun, by which it is fasten- 
 ed on the right and left sides, are called the right and 
 left ligamtnts of the colon. 
 
 The colon terminates at the end of the sigmoid flexure, 
 in a portion that runs almost perpendicularly downwards, 
 along the concave surface of the sacrum, and which, 
 from this direction, has been called inlest'mum rec/mn, 
 or the straight gut. See PI. XIX. Fig. II. This bowel, 
 at its commencement, inclines obliquely to the right, but 
 almost immediately takes its course in the direction of 
 the mesial line. It forms a more regular cylindrical ca- 
 vity than the colon, not being, like that portion, divided 
 into cells by the longitudinal muscular bands. It is close- 
 ly connected as it passes downwards, and is supported 
 partly by the concave surface of the sacrum, and partly 
 by the cocyx. Where it terminates in the anus, it is 
 surrounded by numerous strong muscular fibres, form- 
 ing two layers, and called, from their office, the s/iinc- 
 ter muscles of the anus. At this part too there are two 
 remarkable bundles of longitudinal fibres, forming a 
 muscle on each side, called levator ani. The rectum 
 gradually grows larger as it descends, and is capable of 
 considerable dilatation and contraction. 
 
 Having thus, in conformity with the general custom 
 of anatomists, considered the intestinal canal as divided 
 into different portions, we must now return to the point 
 from which we set out, and examine more minutely the 
 structure of the whole canal, and some of the membranes 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 by which it is connected to the neighbouring parts. 
 The intestinal canal, like the stomach, has been descri- 
 bed as composed of four coats, or layers ; an outer, or 
 peritoneal coat, a muscular coat, a nervous, and a vil- 
 lous coat. IJy most modern anatomists the third of these 
 is very properly omitted, as it consists merely ot cellular 
 sni)stance lying between the muscular and villous coats. 
 There are therefore three layers of the iiUestiual canal 
 which we have to examine. 
 
 The whole intestinal canal is not invelopcd in the samt 
 outer-layer. What we have called the small intestines; 
 the v. iiole of the colon ; and nearly the whole of the rec- 
 tum, arc covered with a coat derived from the serous 
 membrane, called the /icrilc/iicuni, that lines the cavity of 
 the belly; but the duodenum, lying as it were behind the 
 fieritoneum, receives only partial coverings from that 
 membrane, and is surrounded chiefly with productions 
 from another membrane, that connects the colon to the 
 neighbouring organs. The peritoneal coat of the intes- 
 tines forms the principal connecting Unk towards the ster- 
 nal and lateral parts of the belly ; and from the smoothness 
 and humidity of its peripheral surface, gives to the whole 
 that polislied appearance which we observe on opening 
 the belly. We cannot at present attempt to describe the 
 manner in which this outer coat passes successively over 
 the several parts of the intestinal canal ; but as its course 
 is important, and not generally understood, we sliall no- 
 tice it particularly, after having examined the other con- 
 tents of the belly. Within the outer membrane of the 
 intestines lies the muscular coat, which differs, iirsome 
 respects, in the several parts of the canal. In the duo- 
 demum it consists chiefly of circular fibres, resembling. 
 both in their disposition and colour, the transverse fibres 
 of the stomach. In the small intestines there are a few 
 longitudinal fibres towards the convex part of the how- 
 els, or that side which looks outwards. Inlhe colon, the 
 longitudinal muscular fibres are, as we have seen, re- 
 markable for being disposed in three bands, and they 
 diff"er from the longitudinal fibres of any other part of 
 the alimentary canal, by being considerably sliortcr than 
 the length of the tube to which they belong, thus facili- 
 tating the division of the large intestines into cells, by 
 rendering unnecessary so great a muscular contraction 
 as takes place in most other muscular parts of the body. 
 In the rectum, the disposition of the muscular fibres is 
 very similar to what we have seen in the gullet. They 
 are here more numerous, and stronger than in the rest of 
 the intestinal canal, forming, as in tlie gullet, a periphe- 
 ral layer disposed longitudinally, and a central circular 
 layer. In the part of the rectum next the colon, the 
 muscular fibres resemble those of the other intestines 
 in their white colour ; but towards the sacral extremity 
 of the rectum, they become red, and are more like the 
 external muscles of the body. 
 
 The inner, or what, with Bichat, we shall call the 
 mucous coat of the intestinal canal, is the most impor- 
 tant, both in an anatomical and physiological point of 
 view, as it is on tliis membrane that the action of the 
 intestines, in the preparation or separation of chyle, more 
 immediately depends. This mucous membrane is ex- 
 cecdinglv voluminous ; the extent of its surface being 
 increased by numerous puckerings and doublings, com- 
 monly called by anatomists valvule conniventes. These 
 internal folds run obliquely across tlie intestinal canal, 
 and considered separately, are but narrow; but from 
 their number, and the closeness with which they arc 
 5 G
 
 ANATOiMY. 
 
 arranged, they tend to increase the internal surface of 
 the canal to ut least double its external surfaee. These 
 folds are most numerous in the small intestines, but 
 (gradually diminish in number towards the colon, and 
 near the ciicuin they almost entirely disappear. There 
 arc but few of these folds in the colon, but in the rec- 
 tum they are more nuniero>is ; and in the interior of this 
 bowel tliere is besides a number of fokis running longi- 
 tudinally, and commonly called the ItiUarn of the rectum. 
 Tlusc are most remarkable towards the anus, and ap- 
 pear to arise chiefly from the contraction of the circular 
 nmscular hbrcs, which is strongest al that part. The 
 projecting surface of the folds has a rough or shaggy 
 appearance, and lience the mucous membrane has been 
 called the villous coat of the intestines. There arc here 
 numerous orifices, opening into the cavity of the canal; 
 some of which are the outlets of the cxhalant vessels, 
 that pour out a mucous fluid into the cavity ; and others, 
 which arc so small as scarcely to be detected by the na- 
 ked eye, are the mouths of those absorbent vessels call- 
 ed lactcals, which take up the nvitritious fluid from the 
 intestinal canal, and convey it into tlie general circulation. 
 
 That projection of the sacral extremity of the small 
 intestines into the caecum, which forms what is called 
 the valve of the colon, is produced chiefly by a dou- 
 bling of the mucous membrane of the csecum, whicii, 
 folding back upon itself, is united to a similar doubling 
 coming from the extremity of the small intestines, so 
 that, at its middle, this valve is formed by four layers 
 of the mucous membrane. It is not easy, by a descrip- 
 tion, to convey an accurate idea of the structure of this 
 valve ; it is best understood by examining the intestine 
 in the dead body. To do this with advantage, it is pi-o- 
 per to cut out that portion of the intestines which com- 
 prehends the termination of the ilium, the cxcum, and 
 ihe commencement of the colon ; to secure this last by 
 a ligament, then to distend the cxcum with air intro- 
 duced through the ilium, which must then be secured, 
 and the inflated portion suffered to dry. On opening 
 the ca;cum towards that part which is opposite to the 
 entrance of the ilium, we shall observe a large semilunar 
 fold, transversely situated, having its upper part turned 
 towards the colon, its lower towards the caecum, with a 
 convex border next the opening of the ilium, and the 
 side of the cxcum to which it is lixed, and a loose con- 
 cave border divided in the middle into two lips by a long 
 chink directed towards the ilium, and hanging into the 
 cavity of the cxcum.* See Bichat, Atiat. Dcscrijit. torn, 
 iii. p. 433. 
 
 The intestines are supplied with numerous arteries, 
 nerves, and absorbents, the nerves being derived partly 
 from the /larvagiim, but chiefly from the great sympa- 
 thetic. The origin of their arteries, and of those be- 
 longing to the stomach, will be given in the table of 
 arteries. A great number of minute glands arc also 
 found between the mucous membrane and the mus- 
 cular coat, which are distinguished into simple or soli- 
 tary and conglobate, though they are so small as to be 
 seldom seen. 
 
 The intestinal canal possesses a peculiar motion back- 
 wards and forwards, or rather in a waving direction, by 
 which its contents are repeatedly subjected to the action 
 of the exhalants and the lacteals, that open on the sur- 
 face of the nmcous folds. This has been called the 
 vermicular or peristaltic motion of the bowels. It is easily 
 
 seen on opening an animal that has been killed soon al- 
 ter taking food. 
 
 The food, after being inunticaicd in the mouth, passes 
 through the gullet into the stomach, where it is re- 
 tained till it be reduced to a pulpy mass, commonly 
 called chyme, from which, in the p) loric portion of the 
 stomach, the chyli- begins to be separated. The chyli- 
 fication is completed in the duwlmum; and while the 
 alimentary mass is traversing ilie small intestines, the 
 greatest part of the chyle is taken up by the lacteals, 
 while the more solid and cxcrcmcniitioun parts pas.s 
 through the colon and rectum, to be evacuated by tlic « 
 anu.i. See Physiology. 
 
 Besides the peritoneal coat, which forms the outer 
 covering of the intestinal canal, there are several mem- 
 branes connecting its different parts, which we must 
 here briefly notice. 
 
 From the great curvature of the stomach downwards 
 to within a few inches of the pubis, hangs a fatty, vas- 
 cular membrane, between the convolutions of the bowels 
 and the membrane tliat lines the sides of the belly. 
 This is called the great omentum, the remains of which 
 are seen at Q, R, T, S, Fig. 11. PI. XIX. This part is 
 sometimes called the gastrocolic omentum, from being 
 common to the stomach and colon ; and a reflection 
 from the same membrane, extending between the cxcuiu 
 and the right side of the arch of the colon, is called the 
 colic-omcntum, A similar membrane, commonly called 
 the lesser omentum, and by Ilaller ;»(/;(A/-h?;« inaciUnlior, 
 from its being less abundantly supplied with fat, con- 
 nects the back part of the stomach with the duodenum 
 and the liver. These fatty membranes serve to lu- 
 bricate the surface of the bowels, and facilitate their 
 motions over the neighbouring parts. Their direction 
 and connections arc well expressed in two figures of 
 Haller ; see his Iconen ^hiatoinic^, and his Ojicra .Minora, 
 tom. i. p. 576. though the engraving of these last figures 
 is not equal to that of the larger work. Two fine copies 
 of these figures are also given by Dr Parr, in his Xcm 
 London Medical Dictionary. 
 
 The mesentery, which connects together the small 
 intestines with its continuations, the mcao-colon, and the 
 meso-reclum, will be noticed in a future chapter. 
 
 There arc perhaps no organs in the human body 
 that exhibit a greater variety of morbid appearances 
 than the stomach and bowels. We can only notice those 
 which are most commonly observed. These organs are 
 often found inflamed, ulcerated, or gangrenous. Where 
 the inflanmiation has not been of long continuance, tlieir 
 coats appear distended with blood, and either of a florid 
 red, or a deep purple colour, with numerous adhesions 
 to the neighbouring parts. Where gangrene has com- 
 menced, they exhibit various shades of blue, green, or 
 black, and exhale an olTensive odour. Ulcers are gene- 
 rally seen in the mucous membrane. Various parts of 
 the alimentary canal have been fouad in a scirrhous 
 state, but this is most common about the pvloric orifice 
 of the stomach, and the rectum. In these cases, the 
 cavity of the canal is more or less contracted. Various 
 tumours of different textures, as fatty, cartilaginous, are 
 sometimes observed in the alimentary canal; and not 
 imfrequently extraneous bodies are observed, so invelo- 
 ped in a production from the mucous membrane, as to 
 appear like an excrescence from the internal cavity. 
 The stomach has been found ruptured ; and both in this 
 
 • An admiraWe representation of Uiis valve is given by Albinus, iu his .innotaliones Jlcademica, lib. iii. tab. v. fig- 1.
 
 ANATOLI Y. 
 
 787 
 
 anil the intestines, holes are sometimes found, arising, in 
 the former, sometimes from the corrosive action of the 
 gastric juice after death, and sometimes in both, from 
 the gnawing of worms. In some cases, especially where 
 the patient has died from inanition, the stomach and 
 large intestines have been found unusually contracted ; 
 and the writer of this article has seen the arch of the 
 colon so much diminished, tliat it did not equal the 
 ordinary diameter of the small intestines. At other 
 times, the colun is found distended so as to resemble 
 the stomach. The nmcous membrane of the intestines 
 is often greatly thickened ; and in one case we have 
 seen it so united, as nearly to oljlilerate the cavity, 
 though there was no scirrhous hardncs's. An ap- 
 pearance by no means uncommon in the bowels, is that 
 called innis miscc/ili'j, where one portion of the intestines 
 has got within another portion, carrying whh it a part 
 of the- mesentery, and almost always accompanied with 
 inflammation. In a few cases the rectum is imperfora- 
 ted, or has no external opening, and now' and then it 
 opens into the bladder. Tne rectum is often seen per- 
 forated, so as to communicate with the cellular sub- 
 stance near the bladder, forming what is called a.Jif/u/a. 
 Lastly, portions of the ii]lestines,ov even of the stomach, 
 escape through certain openings, as at the navel, into 
 the scrotum, or below the muscles of the thigh, form- 
 ing a hernia or rupture ; and when the bowel is so en- 
 tangled that it cannot be pushed back, it is said to be 
 inciirci'ratfd. 
 
 On the anatomy of the stomach and intestines, see 
 Winslow's Traite d'ylnatoiiiii; or Douglas's translation ; 
 Bichat's Anatomii; Drscri/Uivc, tom. iii. Cuvier's I.c^otm 
 d\'Jnatomic Com/mree, tom. iii. Bell's yhiafomy, vol. iv. 
 and F/iil OS. Transact. 1807, Part. 1 ; and for engravings of 
 these organs, see Haller's Icones .inaiomicj: ; the TubuLz 
 Anatotnica of Loder and Gerard Sandifort, Bell's Sijstcm 
 of Dissections, and the figures hi the 4th vol. of his 
 Anatomy. The morbid appearances arc illustrated by 
 the engravings that accompany Dr Baillie's jMorbid 
 Anatomy. 
 
 Explanation of Plate XIX. 
 
 The figures in this Plate afford views of the teeth, as 
 the principal organs of mastication ; of the more obvious 
 rnscera of the chest and belly ; shewing the natural 
 situation of the principal organs of digestion, circulation, 
 resfiiration, and secretion ; and of the course of the lac- 
 teals, and situation of the mesenteric glands. 
 
 Fig. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, represent several of the adult teeth 
 in their entire state, o. The body of the tooth ; b, the 
 neck ; c c, the fangs or roots. Fig. 1, is a bicuspidated 
 tooth of the lower jaw, with only one fang ; fig. 2. a 
 similar tooth of the upper jaw, with two fangs ; fig. 3, 
 4, and 5, represent dift'erent grinders, those at fig. 3, 
 and 4, having two fangs with their points pervious, 
 shewing the entrance of the vessels and nerves. 
 
 Fig. 6 and 7, represent the internal structure of 
 the teeth, by a perpendicular section, a, The internal 
 cavity open to the tip of the roots ; b, the bony part of 
 the tooth ; c, the fibres of the cortex striatus, or ena- 
 mel. 
 
 Fig. 8, represents portions of the upper and lower 
 jaws of a child about seven or eight years old, the ante- 
 rior plate of each jaw being removed, to shew the posi- 
 tion of the temporary and ])ermanent teeth, and the 
 progress of ossification in the latter. The teeth marked 
 
 a, b, and f, arc temporary Ucth ; a, one of the lateral in- 
 cisors of the upper jaw ; /), b, b, the cuspidated teeth 
 in both jaws ; c, r, c, c, the tem[)orary grinders ; those 
 marked, d, e, f, g. A, /', arc the permanent teeth in dif- 
 ferent stages of ossification ; d, d, d, d, d, d, the lour 
 incisors of the lower jaw, and two of those in the uppcii, 
 which have just appeared through the gum ; c, one of 
 the lateral incisors of the upper jaw, not yet cut \f, f, 
 the cuspidated teeth on one side, still imperfect ; g, g, 
 g, the bicuspidcs in the same imperfect .slate ; /;, /;,thc 
 first grinders on the right side, nearly perfect, and at 
 their proper height above the level of the gunj ; i, the 
 middle grinder of the right side in the lower jaw stiil 
 imperfect. 
 
 Fig. 9, exhibits a front view of the contents of the 
 chest and belly, after cutting away part of the ribs and 
 the colon, and turning back the integuiiicnls and mus- 
 cles. A, the greater part of the riglit lobe of the lungs, - 
 the rest being removed, to shew the parts behind ; B, 
 the left lobe of the lungs ; C, D, the heart ; E, the 
 atlantal or superior vena cava ; 1' , F, the subclavian 
 veins; G, G, the internal jugular veins; H, part of the 
 trunk of the aorta, rising beside the superior v^'Jia cava; 
 K, M, the cut edge of the diaphragm, with the heart 
 and lungs resting on it ; L, L, the convcK surface of the 
 right and left lobes of the liver, with a white line between 
 them, shewing the rudiments of the broad ligament; 
 M, part of tlie round ligament of the liver ; N, the 
 round extremity of the gall-bladder ; O, the stomach, 
 pressed more than usual to the left side by the weight 
 of the liver ; P, the spleen ; Q, Q, the parts of the belly 
 where the kidneys are situated behind tlie bowels ; O, O, 
 O, the convolutions of the small intestines, as they ap- 
 pear when the arch of the colon and the omentum are 
 removed. 
 
 Fig. 10, represents several of the viscera of the 
 belly that could not be seen in the former view. In 
 this figure the stomach and small intestines are re- 
 moved, and the liver is turned upwards, to shew its con- 
 cave surface. A, A, the concave surface of the liver 
 turned. towards the right side; B, the small lobe of the 
 liver called lobulus Spigelii, between which and the part 
 marked C, lies what is called the Jtorta of the liver, 
 where the large vessels enter ; D, the round ligament ; 
 E, the body of the gall-bladder attached to the concave 
 surface of the liver; F, its neck ; G, the pancreas; H, 
 the spleen ; I, I, the kidneys, lying close to the posterior 
 membrane of the belly ; K, K, the renal veins ; L, L, 
 the ureters ; M, the descending trunk of the aorta, 
 giving off at N, the spermatic arteries, at O, the infe- 
 rior mesenteric artery, and at P, dividing into the two 
 large trunks called the common iliac arteries ; Q, the 
 sacral or inferior vena cava, receiving at R, the sperma- 
 tic vein of tlie right side ; S, S, the spermatic arteries 
 and veins closely united to form the spermatic cord ; 
 T, the common iliac veins uniting in the trunk of the 
 inferior vena cava ; U, the extremity of the colon, imper- 
 ceptibly ending in V, the rectum ; X, the urinary bladder 
 distended. 
 
 Fig. 11, gives a lateral view of the contents of the 
 chest, belly, and pelvis, supposhig a vertical section to 
 be made through the spine, and the ribs, integuments, 
 muscles, pleura, and peritoneum on the left side re- 
 moved. A, B, C, the heart invested in its pericardium ; 
 A, the left or systemic ventricle ; B, the left, or systemic 
 auricle ; C, the root of the pulmonai'y artery ; D, the arch 
 of the aorta, rishig above the pericardium: E. the com- 
 5G 2
 
 '88 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 mon trunk of the right carotid and i-ight sub-clavian 
 arteries ; F, the left carotid artery ; G, H, the left sub- 
 clavian artery tiid vein, cut and tied ; I, the place where 
 one of the pulmonary or systemic veins enters the sys- 
 temic auricle ; K, the left lobe of the lungs drawn aside 
 towards the spine, so that the surface next the pericar- 
 dium, which is naturally concave, appears convex ; L, 
 the cut edge of the diaphragm ; M, the left lobe of the 
 liver ; N, O, the stomach a little distended with food ; 
 P, the spleen, rather of an unusual figure in this subject ; 
 Q, R, S, T, the great omentum covering the bowels, and 
 extending a little below the navel, being in this subject 
 unusually devoid of fat ; Q, R, </, r, .v, t, the several turn- 
 ings of the colon or great intestine on the left side of 
 llie body ; Q, R, y, the transverse arch of the colon ; </, 
 the splenic ilexure ; y, r, the left lumbar portion ; r, .v, 
 the left iliac portion ; «, /, the sigmoid flexure ; X, the 
 rectum ; Y, Y, Y, one of the three bands of longitudinal 
 muscular filjres that extends along the colon from the 
 caecum to the rectum ; S, T,«, «, the convolutions of the 
 small intestines partly covered by the omentum ; 6, the 
 urinary bladder, a little distended with fluid, lying be- 
 tween the rectum and the pubis ; c, the prostate gland on 
 the left side ; r/, the left vcskula se,ninalu ; c, the left ure- 
 ter separated a little from the bladder, to which it was 
 here closely connected. 
 
 Fig. 12, repesents a portion of that division of the 
 small intestines c'&WcA j cjunmn, taken from a person who 
 had died soon after eating, when the lacteals were dis- 
 tended with chyle. A, B, C, the outer surface of the 
 intestine covered with its peritoneal coat, through which 
 are seen the minute ramifications of the blood-vessels, 
 and the commencement of the lacteals, which latter are 
 distinguished by their white colour ; D, D, a portion of 
 the mesentery, by which the intestine was connected 
 with the rest of the canal ; E, F, G, the trunk and princi- 
 pal ramifications of the mesenteric artery; H, I, K, the 
 trunk and prnicipal branches of the mesenteric vein, 
 closely accompanying those of the artery ; L,L, L, three 
 of the mesenteric glands, with numerous lacteals entering 
 them from the mesentery, and a few going out on the op- 
 posite side. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 Organs oyCiHCULATioN. 
 
 In pursuing our description of the organs of the hu- 
 man body, the most natural order would be to follow 
 the course of the aliment from the intestines to the cir- 
 culating system, through the lacteals and thoracic duct. 
 To do this with advantage, however, it would be neces- 
 sary that our readers should possess some previous 
 knowledge of at least that part of the circulating system 
 into which the common canal of the nutritious fluid en- 
 ters, and along which it takes its course. This conside- 
 ration obliges us to deviate a little from the course of 
 nature, and to describe the organs of circulation before 
 we consider those of absorption. 
 
 The organs of circulation consist of the heart, as the 
 common centre from which the circulating fluids are 
 conveyed to every part of the body, and to which they 
 are returned, to undergo a renovation of their properties, 
 and be again distributed ; of arteries, for distributing 
 the blood, and furnishing the various secretions ; and of 
 veins, for bringing back that part of the fluids which 
 has been exhausted of its vital powers, by passing 
 
 through the several secreting organs. The circula- 
 ting system is naturally divided into two sets of or- 
 gans ; one destined for the distribution of the blood to 
 all parts of the body ; llic other to circulate it througli 
 particular organs, by which it is to regain what it had 
 lost in this general distribution. Both these sets of 
 organs are united in one common centre, the heart, 
 which is, in fact, a double organ, consisting of several 
 distinct cavities, filled with blood of a different nature 
 ar.d appearance. 
 
 Sect. I. Of the Heart. 
 
 The heart lies in the inferior part of the cavity of the 
 chest, a little towards the left side, but chiefly in the 
 middle region of the chest, formed by that doubling of 
 the general investing membrane of this cavity, which 
 is called mcdiantinum. The human heart, in its figure, 
 so nearly resembles that of the domestic quadrupeds 
 which are employed as food, that we need not describe 
 its general form. In its natural position it lies upon its 
 side, resting on the diaphragm, with its point a little for- 
 wards, and towards the left side, nearly opposite the space 
 between the sixth and seventh ribs, against which it beats 
 at each contraction. Its base lies a little backward or 
 dorsad, towards the right, and rather more atlantad 
 than its point, owhig to the greater convexity of the 
 diaphragm at this part. The whole heart, and the 
 roots of the large blood-vessels that arise from it, and 
 terminate in it, are surrounded with a strong firm mem- 
 brane, to be presently described, called furicardium, by 
 which they are firmly connected to the diaphragm and 
 the neighbouring parts. See Plate XIX. Fig. 11. A, 
 B, C. 
 
 Wc have said that the heart is a double organ. It 
 is divided nearly in the middle by a strong partition 
 called the sejitum of the heart, and composed of fleshy 
 and tendinous fibres. On each side of this partition lie 
 two considerable cavities, with strong fleshy sides or 
 walls. These cavities are called the ventricles of the 
 heart, and have been distinguished by different names, 
 according to their situation or uses. That which in the 
 ordinary position of the human body lies towards the 
 sternum, and a little towards the right side, has been 
 called the right or anterior ventricle ; and that which 
 looks towards the spine, and a little to the left, the left 
 or posterior ventricle. We shall hei-e follow Dr Bar- 
 clay's nomenclature, calling the former the /lulmonic 
 ventricle, as it conveys the blood entirely to the lungs, 
 and the latter the systemic ventricle, as this is the cen- 
 tre of distribution to the system at large. Attached to 
 each of these ventricles at the base of the heart, and 
 easily distinguished from them by their external projec- 
 tion, are two other cavities, also of considerable size, but 
 not furnished with such strong fleshy sides. These 
 cavities are called auricles, as they project from the sides 
 of the base of the heart like the ears of a dog from his 
 head. That auricle which is most attached to the right 
 or pulmonic ventricle has been called the right auricle, 
 and that which is attached to the left or systemic ven- 
 tricle, the left auricle. We call the former the pulmo- 
 nic, and the latter the systemic auricle, as the one re- 
 ceives the blood that is about to be sent to the lungs by 
 the pulmonic ventricle, and the other receives that w^hich 
 is to be distributed to the system by the systemic ven- 
 tricle. From each of the two ventricles arises a large 
 tube with strong muscular sides, called an artery. That
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 ■< 81/ 
 
 which arises from the pulmonic ventricle is generally 
 tcrnicd the pulmonary artery, as it is the tube tliroiigli 
 winch tlic blood is conveyed to llie lungs. In Dr Bar- 
 clay's nomenclature it is the pulmonic artery. That 
 tube whicii arises i'rom the systemic ventricle is called 
 aorta, and by Dr Barclay the systemic artery, beiiis^ the 
 medium ol distribution of the blood to the system. In 
 each olthe auricles terminate several large lubes, which 
 are the trunks of the great veins. The pulmonic auri- 
 cle receives two, one coming from the atlanlal parts of 
 the body, thence called the superior or descending 
 -ccna cava; the olher coming from the sacral parts of the 
 body, and called the iiiferior or ascending vena cava. 
 These are by Dr Barclay termed pulmonic veins. Into 
 the systemic auricle open four lubes bringing the blood 
 from the lungs, after it has been distributed through 
 those organs. These are commonly called the pulmo- 
 nary veins, and by Dr Barclay the systemic veins. The 
 part of each auricle where the venous lubes enter is 
 more expanded than the rest of the auricle, and is called 
 ninuH. That formed by Xhei'tnx cavx, has been termed 
 the right sinus of the heart, and we shall call it the pul- 
 monic sinus; while that formed by the meeting of the 
 pulmonary or systemic veins, is the left or systemic si- 
 nus. Having tiius given a general description of the 
 heart, and explained the several names by which its 
 parts are distinguished, we shall resume the subject, 
 and consider each part a little more at large. 
 
 The pulmonic, or right auricle of the heart, occupies 
 that part of the base which rests on the diaphragm 
 next the sternum. It is of a very irregular appearance, 
 hangs loose from the heart on the sternal side, while in 
 the opposite direction it is closely connected with the 
 systemic auricle. The principal part of this cavity is 
 formed by the meeting of the great pulmonic veins, or 
 vence cava, in what we have called the pulmonic sinus, 
 and between the sacral part of tliis sinus and the ventri- 
 cle, there is a depending part, which is more peculiarly 
 styled the auricle. The inteinal cavity of the auricle 
 exhibits several important holes and eminences. At its 
 lower or sacral side enters the inferior Tf'pa cava., form- 
 ing next the ?nediastinum nearly a straight canal with 
 the cavity of the superior veiui cava; but on the side 
 next the proper auricle, presenting a remarkable fold 
 projecting within the cavity, so as to he convex next 
 the vein, and concave next the ventricle. This doubling 
 has been called the eustachian valve. Between the con- 
 cave part of the eustachian valve and the passage to the 
 ventricle, we find an orifice, which is the entrance of 
 the coronary vein, bringing the blood from the substance 
 of the hearl into the auricle. This orifice is provided 
 with a valve, which prevents the return of the blood into 
 the vein, but ireely allows its entrance into the auricle. 
 Where the two vcnte ccn'.c meet next the right side, 
 there is a small angular projection, sometimes, though 
 improperly, called the tuberculum Loweri; and between 
 this and the eustachian valve is seen a depression, form- 
 ing the remains of a passage that in the foetus led to the 
 systemic auricle, and was called the oval hole ; but be- 
 ing closed by a membrane in the adult, has received the 
 name oi/assa ova/is. The interior cavity of the pulmo- 
 nic sinus is smooth, while that of the proper pvdmonic 
 auricle is rendered uneven by bundles of fleshy fibres 
 called its pillars. The principal object that remains to 
 be noticed within the auricle, is a hole about an inch in 
 diameter, forming the passage from the auricle into the 
 pulmonic ventricle. 
 
 The pulmonic or right venlricle is a triangular cavity, 
 larger than the auricle, and furnished with tuick fleshy 
 walls or sides, extending nearly to the point of -the heart. 
 The hides of this cavity are formed of several layers of 
 large fleshy fibres, running hi various directions, but 
 chiefly in an oblique course, from the base of the hearl 
 to the partition between the venlricle. On ils periphe- 
 ral surface the venlricle is smooth, but on its inieriial 
 or central surface it is rendered very irregular by nu- 
 merous bundles oi fleshy filires, called cjluiniiix rurncix, 
 or flesliy pillars, projecting within the cavity, and ad- 
 hering either to each other, or longitudinally to the sides 
 of the venlricle. A few of these fleshy pillars are loose 
 at one extremity, and are connected with strong tendi- 
 nous fibres, ending ne.xt the auricle in a membranous 
 valve, generally divided into three portions, and called 
 the tricuspid valve. This valve is so formed, and so 
 connected with the tendinous fibres, and fleshy pillars, 
 as to prevent the return of the blood from the ventricle 
 into the auricle, though it affords it a free passage in the 
 opposite direction. Near the base of the triangular ca- 
 vity of the ventricle, at its upper and back part, is ano- 
 ther opening leading to the pulmonic artery. This 
 opening is furnished with three membranes, nearly of a 
 •semilunar form, convex next the ventricle, and concave 
 next the cavity of the artery, and ending in the middle 
 of their loose edge by a small hard substance. When 
 these valves are made to approach each other, they com- 
 pletely close the opening into the ventricle, and prevent 
 the return of the blood from the artery. From their 
 form they are called semilunar valves. 
 
 The systemic, or left auricle of the hoart, is joined, 
 as we have said, to the pulmonic auricle on its sternal 
 and right side, while in the opposite direction it projects 
 towards the spine, forming two very distinct parts, one 
 almost of a cubical figure, and the other nearly flat and 
 depending. The former of these is the systemic sinus, 
 the latter the proper systemic auricle. Joining the si- 
 nus are seen the four large trunks of the pulmonary or 
 systemic veins. The internal cavity of the systemic si- 
 nus is rather larger than that of the pulmonic sinus. It 
 exhibits the same smooth appearance, but has not so 
 many remarkable objects as the former. There are ge- 
 nerally four openings into this sinus from the pulmonary 
 veins, two on the right, and two on the left side ; but 
 these openings are not guarded by any valve. The pro- 
 per auricle on this side has a similar structure with that 
 of the other side of the heart. From the systemic auri- 
 cle to the corresponding ventricle, there is also a large 
 opening for admitting the blood into the latter cavity, 
 guarded by a valve similar to that between the pulmonic 
 auricle and venlricle, except that it is divided into two 
 portions instead of three. This is called the mitral 
 valve, and, like the tricuspid valve, has its membranous 
 part fixed in a tendinous ring, forming the boundary be- 
 tween the auricle and ventricle. 
 
 The systemic or left ventricle occupies the dorsal side 
 of the heart, from the systemic auricle to the point. It 
 is of a pyramidal form ; is longer than the pulmonic ven- 
 tricle, and appears to have two distinct sides. The 
 sides are considerably thicker than those of the other 
 ventricle, but its cavity is nearly of the same extent, 
 though some anatomists have described it as smaller 
 than that of the pulmonic ventricle. See Bell's Anato- 
 ;»!/, vol. ii. p. 22. In structure, both on its peripheral 
 and central surface, it resembles the pulmonic ventricle. 
 From the systemic ventricle at its highest part, is the
 
 "90 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 opening into tlic aorta or great systemic artery, gviard- 
 cd like that of the imlnionlc artery, by three semilunar 
 valves. 
 
 The heart is supplied with nerves by the fiar vagum 
 and great sympathetic, and it is nourished by arteries 
 rising from the root of the aorta, and running in grooves, 
 either between the auricles and ventrieks, or between 
 the two ventricles. 
 
 The pericardium or general covering of the heart, 
 forms a meml)ranous bag, seemingly detached from the 
 body of the heart, except at the roots of the large blood- 
 vessels, where it is firmly connected, and from lliis part 
 a thin membrnnous expansion is reilected over the Ijody 
 of the heart, forming ils immediate covering. The pe- 
 ricardium consists of two layers, of which that next the 
 ineiliastiiuim and diaphragm is of a fibrous texture, while 
 that next the heart is what liichat calls a serous mem- 
 lirane. This latter is stronger than the other, and is 
 smooth and polished on tl-.e siu-face next the heart. Be- 
 tween the pericardium and the heart there is always 
 found a small quantity of a serous or watery fluid, called 
 the water or licpior of the pericardium {li./uor pericardii). 
 On its peripheral surface the pericardium is closely 
 connected to the mediaslinvmi and the tendinous part of 
 the diaphragm. Thus, it preserves the heart in a fixed 
 position at its base, while it allows free motion to the 
 body of that organ during its contractions and dilata- 
 tions. 
 
 The heart of the fiLtus differs in several particulars 
 from that of the adult. The eustachian valve is more 
 distinct, and proportionally larger in the foetus ; the 
 oval hole in the partition between the pulmonic and 
 systemic auricles is open, but is furnished with a valve 
 next the systemic aiuicle, which prevents the return of 
 the blood into the pulmonic sinus. Between the pul- 
 monary artery and tlie aorta, there is, in the foetus, a 
 large canal, which forms a complete communication be- 
 tween the two arterial trunks, thus admitting most of 
 the blood from the pulmonic ventricle to pass into the 
 aorta. This is called the artcrious canal or duct (<-«- 
 7wHs vcl ductua arteriosus). Both this canal and the 
 oval hole, are oljliterated soon after birth. 
 
 The heart is possessed of great irritability, and in 
 the living body its cavities are continually changing 
 their dimensions, owing to the contraction of the mus- 
 cular fibres that compose their sides. Both the auri- 
 cles and ventricles contract upon the contained blood 
 at frequent and regular intervals. Both auricles con- 
 tract at the same time, and both ventricles at the same 
 time ; but the contraction of the auricles and that of the 
 ventricles takes place alternately; for while the auricles 
 are contracting, and thus propelling the blood into the 
 ventricles, these latter arc in a dilated state ; while, 
 when the ventricles are contracting, and thus propelling 
 the blood into the great arterial trunks, the auricles are 
 relaxed. The motion of the ventricles being most con- 
 siderable, is that chiefly attended to in speaking of the 
 motion of the heart; and their contraction is, by medi- 
 cal writers, termed the systole and their dilatation the 
 diastole of the heart. 
 
 Sect. II. Of t/ie Jrteries. 
 
 We have seen a large trunk rising from each of the 
 ventricles of the heart, and to these trunks we have 
 given the name ofartinj. This name is extended to all 
 the ramifications of these trunks, till they become so 
 
 small as to be scarcely visible to the naked eye. The 
 arteries then are those blood-vessels which proceed in 
 a gradual series of smaller and smaller branches from 
 the two great trvmks rising from the ventricles, and 
 convey the blood, cither to the lungs, or to the system 
 at large. They are cylindrical tubes, with sides of con- 
 sideiable strength and density, thickest next the trunks, 
 and becoming so thin towards the small branches, as to 
 l)e nearly transparent. They are divided at some dis- 
 tance from the larger trunks into innumerable minute 
 Ijranches, that arc dispeused through the substance of 
 almost every organ of the body; so that when, by a pe- 
 culiar process, they are successfully filled with coloured 
 wax, and the animal matter dissolved by corroding 
 liquors, the remaining wax that filled tlic arterial cavi- 
 ties, preserves very nearly the form of the original or- 
 gan. 
 
 The branches of arteries are given off at difTerent 
 directions, according to their situ.ition, or according to 
 the distance or position of the parts"which they are des- 
 tined to supply. Sometimes, as within the great cavi- 
 ties of the body, tliey come off nearly at right angles 
 with the trunk, while in other situations, as in the limbs, 
 they proceed in a direction, making a more or less 
 acute angle with the triuik. In general, where the trunk 
 of an artery divides into two branches, one of these is 
 larger than the other, and may be considered as the con- 
 tinuation of the trunk. The arteries seldom run far in 
 a straight direction, but are generally either in a waving 
 line, or arc bent at an angle. The serpentine course is 
 the more common. The branches frequently communi- 
 cate with each other, forming what are called onaslo- 
 inosi's or inosculations. These are most frequent in the 
 skin and membranes, and are particularly obvious in the 
 mesentery that connects the bowels. 
 
 When an artery is cut across its cavity in the living 
 body, the section is always circular, and this form it re- 
 tains, though great part of the contained blood be eva- 
 cuated. As the blood flows out, however, the circular 
 opening becomes gradually smaller, fi-om the clastic na- 
 ture of the arterial coats, by which the vessel is accom- 
 modated to the volume of its contents. Taken gene- 
 rally, the whole arterial system is considered by most 
 anatomists as forming a cone, the smallest part of which 
 is next the heart; so that the ramifications taken toge- 
 ther, must be considered as larger than the trunk froni 
 which they proceed. The cavity of the arteries is per- 
 fectly continuous, having no valves except at the origin 
 of the great trunks. 
 
 The arterial tubes are composed of several layers, 
 partly membranous and partly muscular. They are all 
 furnished with a peripheral or external coat, which is 
 derived chiefly from the cellular substance by which 
 they are every where surrounded. This cellular sub- 
 stance is sometimes so dense and firm, as to form a ca- 
 nal or sheath, within which the artery is contained. The 
 elasticity of the arteries seems to reside chiefly in their 
 external coat. Some of the larger trunks derive their 
 additional coat from the membrane that lines the cavity 
 where they are lodged, from the peritoneum, the pleura, 
 pericardium, dura mater, &c. The arteries are lined on 
 their central surface with a membrane that is very thin, 
 fine, smooth and transparent, though at the same time 
 dense and strong. Between these lies the proper mus- 
 cular or fibrous coat, which is peculiar to the arterial 
 system. This coat is very evident in the larger trunks 
 and branches ; but as the arteries diminish in size, it
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 791 
 
 becomes less apparent.* The fibres of" wliicli tliis coat 
 is couiposcil, arc disposcil in a circular diieclioii, form- 
 ing arches round every pan of tiic cylinder, but not per- 
 fect circles. The whole muscular coat appears of a 
 pale reddish, or rather, according to liichat, of a yel- 
 lowish colour, and where it is thickest, the artery is 
 most opatjuc. It is this coal that gives to the arteries 
 their contractile power. All these coats are connected 
 together by cellular sul)stance. They arc supplied 
 with nourishment l)y extremely small arteries, called by 
 anatomists vana vaxoni/n, and they are furnished with 
 absorbents, and apparently with nerves. 
 
 The minutest branches in which most of the arteries 
 terminate, are called capillary vessels, from their ex- 
 treme slenderncss. Where these minutest branches 
 terminate, another set of vessels commences, which re- 
 ceive the blood from the arteries through the capilla- 
 ries. These are the veins, and these vessels we shall 
 presently consider. The capillary vessels, as lying be- 
 tween the arteries and veins, may be said to belong to 
 both systems, and will be more properly considered by 
 themselves. 
 
 It is not only in the capillary vessels that the arteries 
 terminate. Some of them open into various cavities by 
 small vessels that are termed exhalants ; others pour 
 their contents into certain complex organs called glands, 
 destined to produce some change on the blood whicli 
 they receive, while a few convey blood into spongy cel- 
 lular parts, from which it is again taken up, nearly un- 
 changed, by other vessels. 
 
 The blood covitaincd in the principal trunks and 
 branches of the arteries, when these are viewed througli 
 a microscope, appears of a red colour ; but in the smaller 
 ramifications, and especially in the capillaries, it is 
 nearly colourless. We are not, however, to suppose, 
 that the coloured blood does not flow through tlic ca- 
 pillaries from the arteries into the veins ; but from the 
 extreme slenderness of the stream in these minute ves- 
 sels, its colour is much less obvious ; just as a small 
 'quantity of red wine hi the bottom of a glass appears of 
 a much lighter tinge than a considerable (luanlity in the 
 same vessel. 
 
 The arteries in young people are proportionally larger, 
 and beat more strongly tlian in persons of an advanced 
 age. In very old people many of the minuter arterial 
 branches become impervious, and the diameter of others 
 is greatly diminished. 
 
 The names, origins, distribution and connection of 
 the principal arteries of tlie human body will be given 
 presently in a tabular form. 
 
 Sect. III. 0/ /he Veins. 
 
 The veins are elastic tubes, which carry back to the 
 auricles of the heart that blood which had been distri- 
 buted by the arteries to every part of the body. They 
 are generally larger than the corresponding arteries. 
 
 and in the living body arc easily distinguished from 
 these by their want of pulsation. Many of them arc 
 confined to the surface of the body, ruijning in very ob- 
 vious ramifications below the skin, where liiey are dis- 
 tinguished by ttieir blue colour; and between the mus- 
 cles, but two venous brandies almost always accompany 
 the deep-seated arteries. Hence their absolute number 
 is greater than that of the arteries, excv pt, perhaps, in 
 the lungs where the number and relative sjze of the 
 arterial and venous branches are nearly alike. The 
 veins are cylindrical like the arteries, but their sides 
 are thinner, weaker, and less elaslic, whence they do 
 not preserve the cylindrical form of their cavities when 
 cut across, or when a great pait of their contents is ab- 
 stracted. Their direction and ramification are similar 
 to that of arteries. They also make fretiuent anasto- 
 moses, or their branches freely communicate with each 
 other. They arc also every where surrounded with 
 cellular texture, but this is seldom so dense as that 
 which forms the sheathes of the arteries. 
 
 The veins are composed, like the arteries, of three 
 coats, an outer cellular membrane, an internal delicate 
 membrane, and an intermediate fibrous coat ; but these 
 coats differ in several respects from those of the arte- 
 ries. The cellular coat is looser, and less elastic. The 
 fibrous coat is not composed of circular filires like that 
 of the arteries, but chiefly of longitudinai fibres parallel 
 to each other, and often with considerable intervals be- 
 tween them. Tliese longitudinal fibres are said by 
 Bichat to be more apparent in the superficial than in 
 the deep-seated veins, and are by him considered as 
 essentially distinct in their nature and properties, from 
 the circular fibres that compose the muscular coat of 
 the arteries. They are not elastic, are of a soft texture, 
 but extremely extensible, and not easily broken. Sec 
 Bichat Anatomif Geiterale, tom. ii. p. 599, 404. Some 
 anatomists are of opinion that these fibres are muscular ; 
 but this is by no means certain, and from their direction 
 they cannot have the effect so universally attributed to 
 the circular fibres of the arteries, of assisting the circu- 
 lation of the blood. In several of the veins, the internal 
 membrane is smooth and continuous ; but in a great 
 number, especially those of the extremities, tliis mem- 
 brane is furnished with semilunar folds projecting within 
 the cavity of the tube, and forming valves that are con- 
 cave towards the trunks, and convex towards the small 
 branches of the veins. These valves readily allow the 
 blood to pass from the branches into the trunks towards 
 the heart, but completely ol)struct its passage in the con- 
 trary direction. Where the valves are seated, small 
 protuberances, like knots, n>ay sometimes be observed 
 on the outside, arising, as is alleged, from the insinua- 
 tion of the blood between the concave side of the valves, 
 and the adjacent part of the sides of the veins. 
 
 The veins are nourished by small arteries, and arc 
 supplied like the arteries, with nerves and absor- 
 bents. 
 
 • Such is Bicliat's account of the muscul.ir, or what he terms the proper mem 
 est dense, senee, trcs .ijjparcnte sur Ics grosses .ivteres, est moins sensible siir les 
 Anat^inie Gentrale, tome ii. p. 278. Some otiicr ar.alomists, however, giv c a very 
 less evident in tlie larpje tniiiks than in the smallei- branches. They .also contend 
 trunks ; an opinion whicli tliey seem to have derived from tlie {greater tieqiiency 
 experiment of Mr .1. Kiinter, in wliicli, of two arteries divided in a U\ ing; animal 
 tlie lai'.i>-er. AVe cannot enter at large into the merits of this question, but shall o 
 tliinpf respecting the muscukar coat, as Iho contraction of divided hving arteries 
 freciuency of aneurism in the large trunks pro\ es merely that the strength of thi ' 
 force of the current of blood sent immediately from the heart. 
 
 Iirane of the arteries. " f'ette membrane, (says he,) 
 (leinieres di\ isions, ou elle se perd inscnsiblement ;" 
 different account, and describe the muscular coat as 
 tliat these latter are proportionally strorger than the 
 of .aneurism in the trunks, and from the result of an 
 tlie smaller contracted in (hauieter. much more than 
 bserve only, that Mr Hunter's experiment nroves no- 
 is to be attributeil to their elasticity, and tlu greater 
 c coats is not sufEcicnt to resist the strong iinpcUing
 
 792 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 The veins arise clir.cr from the capillaries in which 
 the arteries terminate from the convolutions ol" glands, 
 or from spongy cells, as in the penis, and probably in 
 the spleen. Within the head, the vchis freely commu- 
 nicate with the sinuses formed within the doublings of 
 the dura mater. 
 
 It has been commonly supposed that the veins with- 
 in the belly difler from those in the general system ; 
 but Bichat, who has examined them with great attention, 
 describes ihem as dittering, as to structure, only in the 
 greater density of the cellular membrane, and less 
 fibrous appearance, and extensibility of the intermedi- 
 ate coat. The distribution of that particular set of 
 veins that are ramified through the liver, called the vena 
 Portx, vi'M be considered when we treat of that organ 
 in the seventh chapter. 
 
 The veins in the fcetal state, and during early child- 
 hood, are proportionally much less, compared with the 
 arteries, than at any future period of life. As age in- 
 creases they become larger, and those next the surface 
 become more evident, and in old people they arc much 
 dilated and very prominent, especially in the atlantal ex- 
 tremities. The embossed appearance of the arms of an 
 old woman, which has furnished our poets with one of 
 the most striking features in their portrait of a witch, is 
 owing partly to this dilatation of the veins, and partly to 
 the absorption of the fat contained hi the cellular sub- 
 stance. 
 
 The names of the principal veins, and their corres- 
 pondence with arteries, will be noticed immediately in 
 the general table of arteries. 
 
 Sect. IV. Of the Ca/iii!ary and Exhalant Vessels. 
 
 We have seen that the most general termination of 
 arteries and commencement of veins, are by very mi- 
 nute or capillary vessels ; and this observation is appli- 
 cable both to the circulating vessels of the general sys- 
 tem, and to those that are confined to the lungs. Capil- 
 lary vessels also form the convolutions of secreting 
 glands. Their offices, in all these situations, must of 
 course be different. In some they appear merely to con- 
 tinue the circulation of the blood from the arteries into 
 the veins, while in the lungs they are supposed to be the 
 principal seat of that important and necessary change 
 which the blood undergoes in circulating through these 
 organs ; and in the glands they are doubtless subser- 
 vient to the function of secretion. With respect to 
 their structure and properties we know very little. The 
 microscope informs us that they are cylindrical and trans- 
 parent, but of what membranes they are composed, and 
 whether they possess an inherent contractibility, or 
 merely admit the passage of the fluids urged on by the 
 contractions of the heart and arteries, we cannot deter- 
 mine. 
 
 It is found that various matters are separated from 
 the general mass of blood that passes through the arte- 
 ries, without any very complex organ to serve as the me- 
 dium of separation. Thus, into all the cavities of the 
 body there is poured a watery or a mucous licjuor, which 
 
 serves to moisten both the sides and the cavities, and the 
 peripheral surface of their contents; again, a moisture 
 is ehused through the pores of the skin, and passes 
 through the cuticle in the form of vapour or ol fluid ; 
 and a similar effusion takes place in the lungs. As no 
 particular apparatus can be discovered Ijy which the se- 
 paration iseH'ccted, it is naturally concluded, cither that 
 the moisture exudes through pores in the sides of the 
 blood-vessels, or of the membranes linhig the cavities, or 
 that it is poured out or exhaled by particular vessels 
 wandering from the general course of circulation, and 
 opening within the cavities in the cellular part of the 
 lungs, or below the skin. These separating vessels 
 have long been known to anatomists by the name of cx- 
 Italanls. They are generally considered as coming oflT 
 from the arteries ; and Uicliat is of opinion that they 
 proceed from the capillary vessels. 
 
 Some anatomists consider tliese vessels as of the same 
 nature with those that supply the secretary glands, and 
 call them all by the general name of secerning vessels ; 
 while others contend that these exhalants exist only in 
 the brains of the humoral pathologists. We wish not to 
 interfere with these disputes on Xha minutix of anatomy, 
 and shall therefore, for the present, dismiss the subject 
 of the exhalant arteries, with referring such of our 
 readers as wish for a full account of them, to Bichat's 
 ylnatomie Generate, torn. ii. 
 
 There can be no doubt that there belong to the circu- 
 lating system small vessels with open mouths, whether 
 we call them exhaling or secerning vessels, by means of 
 which the matters to l)e assimilated to the various parts 
 of the body are conveyed to their destined situations; 
 pliosjihoric acid, lime and gelatine to the bones ; Jibrine 
 to the mviscles ; albumen and gelatine to the tendons and 
 cartilages, &c. It is true that these are so small as to 
 escape the investigation of the anatomist, but of their ex- 
 istence we can no more doubt than we can of that of the 
 vessels to be presently noticed, by which these matters 
 are again taken up, and carried back into the circula- 
 ting organs, to give place to fresh supplies.* 
 
 The following table exhibits a comprehensive view 
 of the origin, distribution, and connection of the princi- 
 pal arterial trunks and branches that have received par- 
 ticular names, and of the veins that accompany them, or 
 correspond with them in name or situation. It is divi- 
 ded into four columns : In the first column are given the 
 names of the principal arteries, according to the most 
 received anatomical momenclator, and the synonymous 
 names by which they are most generally distinguished. 
 W^here the principal trunk or branch gives off a number 
 of smaller ramifications that have received appropriate 
 names, the most important of these are enumerated in 
 Italics, and a reference is given to such figures m our 
 series of plates, as afford a representation of the vessel. 
 In the second column are marked the origins of each 
 artery, and in the third are given its general course and 
 distribution. The fourth column contains the principal 
 communications of the arteries with other arterial 
 branches by inosculation, and their connection with the 
 neighbouring veins and nerves. 
 
 * Those who deny the existence of exhalinj^ vessels, and explain exhalation or exudation, according to the hypothesis of inorganic 
 pores in the sides of the secreting surfaces, lead us tollie inference that this part of the function of secretion is left to chance; but as in 
 a machine such as the animal body, in wliich so many marks of evident design are every where presented to our view, the influence of 
 chance can scarcely be admitted, we must conclude that exhaling vessels really exist, though we cannot demonstrate to the eye theii- 
 origin, direction, or tei'mination.
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 •93 
 
 TABLE OF THE PRINCIPAL ARTERIES AND VEINS OF TUE IILM.VN BODY. 
 
 Xo, Jfames and Syno- 
 
 7iy7nes. 
 1 . Pulmonaiy artery. 
 
 Pulmonic Artery of Bar- 
 clay. 
 
 2. Aorta. 
 
 Systemic Jrtery* Bare. 
 Plate XVIII. Fig. 9. H. 
 Fig. 10. M. 
 
 3. Right and left coronary 
 
 arteries. 
 
 4. Right and left common 
 
 carotids. 
 Plate XXI. Fig. 1. A, 
 
 5. Right and left subcla- 
 vians. 
 Plate XXI. Fig. 2. C, 
 
 6. External carotid artery. 
 Plate XXI. Fig. 1. D; 
 H, H. 
 
 7. Superior thyroid artery. 
 Plate XXI. Fig. 1. E. 
 
 8. Lingual or sublingual 
 artery. 
 PL XXI. Fig. 1. F. 
 Gives off the 
 Arteria ranina. 
 
 9. Superficial or external 
 
 maxillary. 
 Labial or facial artery. 
 Plate XXI. Fig. 1. G, 
 
 G, L, N, Y. k, k, p. 
 
 X. 
 
 Origin 0/ Arteries. 
 
 From the right or fiulmo- 
 vic ventricle of the 
 heart. 
 
 From the left or systemic 
 ventricle of the heart. 
 
 From the root of the aorta. 
 
 The right from a trunk 
 common to this and the 
 right subclavian, the 
 left immediately from 
 the arch of the aorta. 
 
 As the carotids, from the 
 arch of the aorta. 
 
 The superficial branch of 
 those two into which the 
 common carotid divides. 
 
 From the external carotid, 
 just at its origin. 
 
 Second branch of the ex- 
 ternal carotid. 
 
 Distribution of Arteries. Connections of Arteries. 
 
 To the 
 lungs. 
 
 air-ccUs of the 
 
 Rises to about the first 
 rib, where it makes an 
 arch, then descends 
 through the thorax and 
 belly, at first on the left 
 side of the spine, till at 
 the fourtii lumbar verte- 
 bra, it divides into two. 
 
 To the muscular substance 
 of the heart. 
 
 Ascend up the neck be- 
 tween the windpipe and 
 the accompanying vein 
 to the top of the larynx, 
 where they begin to give 
 off branches. 
 
 The right passes across the 
 wind-pipe, the left rises 
 into an arch ; both run 
 between the collar bones 
 and first ribs to the arm- 
 pits. 
 
 Divides into eight branches 
 almost immediately at 
 its origin. 
 
 Runs obliquely sacrad to 
 the thyroid gland, giving 
 branches to the os hyoi- 
 des and neighbouring 
 muscles, to the fiharynx, 
 the larynx, and thyroid 
 gland. 
 
 Runs below the veins and 
 muscles chiefly to the 
 tongue and its muscles. 
 
 Branches every where ac- 
 companied by those of 
 the pulmonary or syste- 
 
 7nic veins. 
 
 Accompanied in its de- 
 scent through the lielly 
 by the sacral or ascend- 
 ing -uena cava or great 
 fiulmonic vein. 
 
 Inosculate with each othci 
 
 Accompanied by the inter- 
 nal jugular veins. Plate 
 XIX.Fig. 9.G, G. 
 
 Have the subclavian veins 
 (Plate XIX. Fig. 9. F, 
 F,) lying beside them. 
 
 With its fellow, and with 
 the inferior thyroid. (No. 
 17. 
 
 With its 
 on the 
 
 tonccuc. 
 
 fellow, chiefly 
 back of the 
 
 Third branch of the exter- Ascends tortuous, by the Inosculates with several of 
 
 nal carotid. 
 
 maxillary gland over a 
 depression on the edge 
 of the lower jaw ; to the 
 palate,the salivary glands, 
 the chin, the lips, the 
 
 the neighbouring arte- 
 ries, and with branches 
 coming from its fellow 
 of the opposite side. 
 
 • The motives which led to these changes by Dr Bai'clay, in tlie momenclature of the sanguiferous system, will more fully ap- 
 pear presently, when we shall describe the nature and differences of the blood. It may not be improper to remark here, that previous 
 to the time of Harvey, all the blood-vessels connected with tlie right ventricle of tlie heart were regarded as veins, and the pulmonaiy 
 artery was called vena arteriosa. On the other band, all the vessels connected with the left ventricle were considered as arteries, and 
 die pulmonary veins were called arterice venoste. The terms venous and arterial blood had then a precise meaning; the former denoting 
 the blood contained in the vessels connected with the right ventricle, the latter that contained in the vessels connected with the left 
 ventricle of the heart. Hence it appears, th.it the distinction of the blood into two kinds is older tlian the time of Harvey. As, how- 
 ever, after the discovery of the circulation, it was proved that the vena arteriosa was really an artery, and the arterij: •cenose really veins, 
 the distinction into venous and arterial blood, though still retained, was evidently absurd. Some late physiologists have attempted a 
 new distinction, by calling the venous black blood, and the vessels connected with the right ventricle, the system of black blood, while 
 they denominate the arterial, red blood, and the vessels connected with the left venti'icle, the system of red blood. We h.ive preferred 
 Dr Barclay's momenclature, as being neater and more explicit. 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. 5 H
 
 794 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 •N'o. JVames and Syiuj- 
 nymea. 
 Gives off" the 
 Inferior jialatine. 
 Submental. 
 Inferior labial. 
 Coronaries of the lips. 
 
 10. Ascending pharyngeal 
 artery. 
 Plate XXI. Fig. 1. K. 
 
 Origin of ytrteries. 
 
 II. Occipital artery. 
 Plate XXI. Fig. 
 I. 
 
 14. 
 
 1. I, 
 
 Fourth branch of the ex- 
 ternal carotid, and small- 
 est except the next. 
 
 Fifth and smallest branch 
 of the external carotid. 
 
 Posterior auricular, or 
 
 stylo-mastoid artery. 
 
 Plate XXI. Fig. I. A. 
 
 Superficial or external 
 
 temporal artery. 
 Plate XXI. Fig. i. No. 
 
 15. 
 Gives off the 
 Transverse artery of 
 
 the face. 
 Middle or dee/i tem- 
 
 fioral. 
 Anterior auricular. 
 Orbicular. 
 Teynfi oro -fro ntal. 
 Temjioro-occipital. 
 
 The deep or internal 
 maxillary artery. 
 
 Gives off the 
 
 Dee/i auricular artery. 
 
 Small and middle me- 
 ningeal arteries. 
 
 Inferior maxillary. 
 
 Deefi external and in- 
 ternal temjioral arte- 
 ries. 
 
 Buccal or artery of the 
 cheek. 
 
 .ilveolar. 
 
 Infraorbital. 
 
 Superior or Jiterigo-jia- 
 latine. 
 
 Sixth branch of the exter- 
 nal carotid, rising from 
 the trunk within the pa- 
 rotid gland, just before 
 the styloid process. 
 
 The seventh branch of the 
 external carotid, rising 
 upwards through the pa- 
 rotid gland. 
 
 Eighth branch of the ex- 
 ternal carotid, larger than 
 the preceding, rising a- 
 bout half way between 
 the corner of the jaw and 
 its articulation. 
 
 Distribution of Arteries. 
 
 nose, muscles and skin 
 of the face. 
 
 Rises anteriorly to the 
 chink between the sphe- 
 noid and tlic orbital plate 
 of the frontal bone, to the 
 dura mater, giving bran- 
 ches to the pharynx and 
 to some neighbouring 
 nerves. 
 
 Runs backward below the 
 parotid gland and mus- 
 cles, whence it emerges 
 about the middle of the 
 occiput, giving branches 
 to the muscles and glands 
 of the neck, to the drira 
 mater, the external ear, 
 and back part of the head. 
 
 Passing in a curved direc- 
 tion to the back of the 
 ear, supplies the auditory 
 passage, the membrane of 
 the tympanum, the inter- 
 nal cavities of the ear, and 
 the neighbouring mus- 
 cles. 
 
 Passing over the zygoma- 
 tic arch, between it and 
 the ear, to the temples, 
 gives branches to the 
 joint of the lower jaw, 
 the face and its muscles ; 
 the auditory passage, the 
 mesial angle of the eye, 
 and its muscles. 
 
 Passes below the lower jaw 
 bone in a tortuous man- 
 ner to the spheno-maxil- 
 lary fissure, giving bran- 
 ches to the ear, the dura 
 jnater, the teeth, the an- 
 trum of Highmore, the 
 cheek, the muscles about 
 the eye, the nose, the pa- 
 late and the pharynx. 
 
 Connections of Arteries. 
 
 With branches coming 
 from the arteiy of thi- 
 opposite side, especially 
 on the occiput. 
 
 Inosculates with the tem- 
 poral and occipital arte- 
 
 Inosculates with several 
 branches of the superfi- 
 cial, and of the deep max- 
 illary arteries, especially 
 the alveolar, palpebral, 
 infraorbital, coronary, k 
 frontal branches. 
 
 Inosculates with several of 
 the neighbouring bran- 
 ches. 
 
 13. Deep or internal caro- 
 tid artery. 
 Cerebral artery. 
 
 From the common carotid 
 artery, at the top of the 
 larynx. 
 
 Rises obliquely backwards 
 to the carotid canal of the 
 temporal bone, where it 
 
 Connected in its passage 
 with the par vagum and 
 intercostal nerve. Inos-
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 '95 
 
 A'o. Mimes and Syno- 
 nymes. 
 Plate XXI. Fig. 1. C. 
 Gives off the 
 Arteries of the rcccjua- 
 
 cle. 
 Ofihtfialmk. 
 Communicating: 
 ^Interior carotid. 
 Posterior carotid. 
 
 ! 6. Deep or internal mam- 
 mary artery. 
 
 Origin of Arteries. 
 
 Distribution of Arteries. Connection of Arteries. 
 
 17. Inferior thyroid artery. 
 Anterior cervical arte- 
 ry. 
 Plate XXI. Fig. 2. R. 
 
 iS. Superior intercostal ar- 
 tery. 
 
 19. Vertebral artery. 
 
 30. Axillary and humeral 
 
 artery. 
 Plate XXI. Fig. 2. 
 
 Y, rf. ^ 
 
 Gives off the 
 Thoracic arteries. 
 Inferior sca/mlar. 
 Circumfex. 
 Profundi. 
 Nutritious artery of 
 
 Xhe. humerus, &c. 
 
 31. Ulnar artery. 
 
 Plate XXI. Fig. 3. 
 
 rf, X, y, z. 
 Gives off the 
 Interosseal arteries. 
 Ulnar recurrent. 
 JVutritious artery of 
 
 the ulna, Sec. 
 
 Fii'st branch of the subcla- 
 vian, given off near its 
 root. 
 
 Second branch of the sub- 
 clavian, rising near the 
 former. 
 
 From the upper and back 
 part of the trunk of the 
 subclavian. 
 
 Rises from the subclavian, 
 a little within the pre- 
 ceding. 
 
 Properly the continued 
 trunk of the subclavian, 
 running through the ax- 
 illa to the tendon of the 
 latissimus dorsi muscle, 
 where it takes the name 
 of humeral. 
 
 From the axillary and hu- 
 meral artery, a little 
 above the bend of the 
 elbow, being the larger 
 of the two branches, 
 sinking immediately be- 
 low the muscles, and 
 passing to the ulnar side 
 of the fore arm. 
 
 runs in a curved direc- 
 tion, enters the cavernous 
 sinus near the sella turci- 
 ca, and emerging hence, 
 passes backwards to the 
 brain, giving branches to 
 the ear, the cavernous si- 
 nus, the pituitary gland, 
 the eye-ball and its mus- 
 cles, the retina, the nos- 
 trils, and various parts of 
 the brain. 
 
 Passes sternad and sacrad to 
 the diaphragm, and below 
 the rccti-muscles of the 
 belly, giving branches to 
 the breast, pectoral mus- 
 cles, pericardium, phre- 
 nic nerve, and in the foe- 
 tus to the thymus gland. 
 
 Pmscs sternad and a/lantad, 
 gives branches to the sca- 
 pula, the neighbouring 
 muscles, side of the neck, 
 the thyroid gland, os hyoi- 
 (/«', larynx and windpipe. 
 
 Passing to tlie roots of the 
 first and second ribs 
 within the thorax, sup- 
 plies the muscles and 
 nerves of the neck, the 
 neighbouring intercostal 
 muscles, the gullet and 
 the vertebrae. 
 
 Passes through the canal 
 formed by the holes in 
 the transverse processes 
 of the cervical vertebrae, 
 between the atlas and oc- 
 cipital bone, through the 
 great hole along the ba- 
 silar process to the brain, 
 cerebellum, spinal mar- 
 row, and their investing 
 membranes. 
 
 Runs along the volar side 
 of the arm to near the 
 bend of the elbow, where 
 it divides, giving bran- 
 ches to all the muscles 
 as it passes, to the sca- 
 pula, the intercostal spa- 
 ces, to the bone of the 
 arm, and the ligaments 
 of the joints. 
 
 Runs in a waving direc- 
 tion over the ulnar side 
 of the wrist to the palm 
 of the hand, forming the 
 volar arch, giving bran- 
 ches to the muscles as it 
 passes, to the interosse- 
 ous ligament, the elbow 
 joint, the substance of 
 the ulna, and most of the 
 
 5H 
 
 culates with the verte- 
 bral artery from the sub- 
 clavian, and forms a cir- 
 cle near the infundibulum, 
 called the circle of Wil- 
 lis. 
 
 Inosculates with opposite 
 branches, with the lum- 
 bar and epigastric arte- 
 ries. See No. 35. 
 
 Inosculates with the hunic 
 ral thoracic artery, and 
 with the superior thy- 
 roid. 
 
 Inosculates with the in- 
 ternal mammary, with 
 branches of the inferior 
 thyroid. 
 
 Connected as it rises to th.c 
 vertebral holes, with the 
 ganglions of the inter- 
 costal nerve, and inoscu- 
 lates with the internal 
 carotid, to foi-m the cir- 
 cle of Willis. See Plate 
 XVIII. Fig. 4. No. 11, 
 13, 13. 
 
 Connected with the basilic 
 vein, median or radial 
 nerves, and glands of the 
 axilla and the arm, while 
 several of its branches in- 
 osculate with each other. 
 
 Connected as it passes with 
 the ulnar nerve and the 
 basilic vein. Inosculates 
 in the palm of the hand 
 with the radial arteiy, to 
 form the volar arch.
 
 796 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 jVo. J\fames and Syno- 
 nymcs. 
 
 22. Radial artery. 
 
 Plate XXI. Fig. 2. 
 e, i, k. 
 
 Gives off the 
 
 Kadial recurrent ar- 
 tery. 
 
 Sufierjicial volar. 
 
 Artery of the thumb. 
 
 Sujierior and inferior 
 volar fierforants. 
 
 23. Thoracic aorta. 
 Gives off the 
 Pericardiac arteries. 
 Bronchial arteries. 
 Oesophageal arteries. 
 Inferior intercostals. 
 
 24. Phrenic arteries. 
 
 25. Superior coronary ar- 
 tery. 
 
 26. Hepatic artery. 
 Gives off the 
 Right gastro-epifitoics. 
 
 27. Splenic artery. 
 
 Gives off the 
 
 Vasa brevia. 
 
 Left gastro-efii/itoics. 
 2%. Superior mesenteric. 
 
 Gives off the 
 
 Posterior pancreatic. 
 
 Sujierior colic. 
 
 Ilio-colic. 
 
 29. Inferior mesenteric. 
 Gives off the 
 Left colic. 
 Inferior hemorrhoidal. 
 
 30. Emulgent or renal ar- 
 teries. 
 
 31. Spermatic arteries. 
 Plate XIX. Fiff. 10. 
 
 N. ^ 
 
 Origin of Arteries. 
 
 Smaller and more superfi- 
 cial than the ulnar, run- 
 ning to the radial side of 
 tiic fore arm, between 
 the supinator longus, and 
 radialis internus muscles. 
 
 A continuation of the great 
 trunk of tlie aorta, from 
 the arch. 
 
 Distribution of Arteries. Connections of Arteriea. 
 
 Generally from the trunk 
 of the aorta, just after it 
 passes the diaphragm 
 from the chest. 
 
 From a short artery called 
 the cceliac, given off by 
 the ventral aorta on its 
 sternal side, a little be- 
 low the diaphragm. See 
 Plate XIV. Fig. 3. e. 
 
 From the coeliac to the 
 right. 
 
 From the cceliac artery to 
 the left. 
 
 From the sternal side of 
 the ventral aorta, a little 
 below the cceliac. Plate 
 XIV. Fig. 3. b. 
 
 From the sterno-sinistral 
 part of the trunk of the 
 aorta, a little above its 
 bifurcation. 
 
 From the sides of the 
 trunk of the aorta, a lit- 
 tle above the inferior 
 mesenteric. 
 
 From the sternal part of 
 the trunk of the aorta, 
 generally between the 
 inferior mesenteric and 
 the renal. 
 
 fingers. 
 
 Runs over the radial side of 
 the wrist, where it is ea- 
 sily felt, to the palm of 
 the hand, terminating in 
 the deep volar arch, sup- 
 plying in its course the 
 muscles, the interosse- 
 ous and articular liga- 
 ments, the thumb, the 
 fore finger, wrist, and 
 adjacent parts. 
 
 Passes a little to the left, 
 till it reaches the dia- 
 phragm, when it again 
 approaches the mesial 
 line. Its branches sup- 
 ply the pericardium, 
 bronchi, the gullet, and 
 most of the intercostal 
 spaces. 
 
 To the diaphragm and se- 
 veral of the adjoining 
 viscera. 
 
 Passes to the cardia and 
 small arch of the sto- 
 mach, supplying the 
 greatest part of that or- 
 gan, and giving bran- 
 ches to the gullet and the 
 liver. 
 
 Supplies the liver, the gall- 
 bladder, the duodenum, 
 the pancreas, the pylo- 
 ric part of the stomach, 
 and part of the omen- 
 tum. 
 
 Supplies the spleen, the 
 large extremity of the 
 stomach, the omentum, 
 and the pancreas. 
 
 Runs in a winding direc- 
 tion in numerous bran- 
 ches inosculating toge- 
 ther, across the mesen- 
 tery, chiefly to the small 
 intestines and the colon. 
 
 Distributed in a similar 
 mode of ramification with 
 the former to the lower 
 small intestines, the left 
 side of the colon, and the 
 rectum. 
 
 Chiefly to the kidneys. 
 
 Chiefly to the testes in men, 
 in women to the uterus 
 and neighbouring parts. 
 
 Runs beside the spiro-mus- 
 cular nerve, and inoscu- 
 lates with the ulnar ar- 
 tery on the interosseous 
 ligament, and in the 
 palm of the hand. 
 
 Has the radial vein cor- 
 responding to it. 
 
 Is accompanied by the in- 
 ferior vena cava, and its 
 branches inosculate with 
 sevei-al of those that 
 come from the subcla- 
 vian. 
 
 Inosculate with the thora- 
 cic arteries, and with the 
 opposite phrenic. 
 
 Inosculates with the vasa 
 brevia, coming from the 
 splenic. 
 
 Accompanied by the hepa- 
 tic veins. Inosculates 
 vpith the coronary artery, 
 and the mesenteric arte- 
 ries. 
 
 Inosculates with the coro- 
 nary, and several other 
 neighbouring branches. 
 
 Accompanied through its 
 whole course by the me- 
 senteric veins, also freely 
 inosculating with each 
 other. See Plate XIX. 
 Fig. 12. 
 
 Similar to that of the su- 
 perior mesentery. 
 
 Accompanied by the emul- 
 gent veins. 
 
 Unite with the spermatic 
 veins, forming the sper- 
 matic cord,
 
 ANATOjMY. 
 
 797 
 
 JVo. JVames and Syno- 
 
 nymes. 
 32. Lumbar arteries. 
 
 33. Common iliac arteries. 
 Plate XIX. Fig. 10. 
 P. 
 
 Give off the 
 Sacro-median artery. 
 
 34. The deep, or internal 
 
 iliac artery. 
 Hypogastric artery. 
 Gives off the 
 Ilio-lumbar artery. 
 Sacro-latcral arteries- 
 Umbilical artery. 
 Inferior vesical arte- 
 ries. 
 Mddle hemorrhoidal 
 
 artery. 
 Posterior iliacund com- 
 mon fiudic. 
 
 35. Superficial or external 
 iliac artery. 
 
 Gives off the 
 Efiigastric artery, 
 
 and 
 Circumflex iliac. 
 
 36. Common femoral arte- 
 ry. 
 
 Plate XXI. Fig. 3, a. 
 Gives off the 
 
 External fncdic arte- 
 ries. 
 
 37. The deep femoral ar- 
 
 tery. 
 Plate XXI. Fig. 3. b, 
 
 c, d,f,f. 
 Gives off the 
 Circumflex arteries, 
 
 and 
 First and secondfterfo- 
 
 rants. 
 
 38. Superficial femoral ar- 
 
 tery. 
 
 Plate XXI. Fig. 3.0. 
 
 Gives off the 
 
 Large anastomatic ar- 
 tery, and 
 
 Su/ierior and inferior 
 iierformts. 
 
 Origin of Arteries. 
 
 Five in number on each 
 side, from the dorsolate- 
 ral part of the ventral 
 aorta, nearly at right an- 
 gles. 
 
 Two large trunks formed 
 by the bifurcation of the 
 ventral aorta. 
 
 From the common iliac 
 entering immediately 
 within the pelvis, and 
 dividing into niunerous 
 branches. 
 
 Distribution of Arteries. Connections of Arteries. 
 
 Continued in a straight line 
 from the common iliac, 
 till it arrives at the thigh. 
 
 A continuation of the ex- 
 ternal iliac for about two 
 inches, when it divides. 
 
 From the common femoral 
 within a triangular cavi- 
 ty, between the iliacus in- 
 ternus,fiectineus,?ind ad- 
 ductor muscles. 
 
 A continuation of the com- 
 mon femoral. 
 
 Run transversely to the 
 spine, round whicli tlicy 
 arc reflected, and sink 
 between the vertebra;, 
 supplying the spinal mar- 
 row, the neighbouring 
 muscles, and part of the 
 diaphragm. 
 
 Run obliquely downwards, 
 separating from each 
 other to a small distance, 
 when they divide into the 
 two following arteries. 
 
 Supplies the neighbouring 
 muscles, the vertebrae of 
 the sacrum, the spinal 
 marrow, the navel, (in 
 the foetus,) the rectum, 
 the bladder, and the or- 
 gans of reproduction. 
 
 Supplies the neighbouring 
 muscles, glands, and pe- 
 ritoneum ; the abdominal 
 muscles, and partly the 
 organs of reproduction. 
 
 Runs between Poupart's li- 
 gament and the brim of 
 the pelvis, passing down 
 the thigh on the mesial 
 side of the joint insertion 
 of the fisoas and iliacus 
 z'w/'erni^s muscles, supply- 
 ing in its course the mus- 
 cles, integuments, and 
 glands, and the external 
 organs of reproduction. 
 
 Runs distad and pojilitead 
 below the muscles, near 
 to the middle of the thigh- 
 bone, supplying the mus- 
 cles and integuments, the 
 hip-joint the thigh-bone. 
 
 Runs below the integu- 
 ments near the sartorius 
 muscle, distad, centrad, 
 and fiofilitead, to the ham, 
 supplying, in its course, 
 the muscles, integu- 
 ments, glands, and thigh- 
 bone. 
 
 Inosculate with the inter- 
 costal, epigastric, supe- 
 rior phrenic, and sacro- 
 lateral arteries. 
 
 The right iliac crosses tlie 
 vena cava, near the en- 
 trance of the iliac veins ; 
 the left runs down be- 
 side its corresponding 
 vein on the left side of 
 it. 
 
 Inosculates with several of 
 the neighbouring arte- 
 ries, especially the sper- 
 matic. 
 
 Accompanied in its course 
 by the iliac vein and cru- 
 ral nerve. Inosculates 
 chiefly with the internal 
 mammary, the intercos- 
 tal, lumbar, and sperma- 
 tic arteries. 
 
 Accompanied by the crural 
 nerve, the deep lympha- 
 tics, and the trunk of the 
 femoral vein. 
 
 Inosculates with several 
 branches of the superfi- 
 cial femoral. 
 
 The deep femoral vein runs 
 beside it. 
 
 Connected with the fascia 
 of the thigh, the inguinal 
 glands, and superficial 
 absorbents. Makes fre- 
 quent anastomoses with 
 its own and the neigh- 
 bouring branches. 
 
 The femoral vein corres- 
 ponds with this arterj'.
 
 798 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 Origin nf Arterii'H. 
 
 A contiimaLion of tlic su- 
 perficial femoral in the 
 lioUow of the hand, 
 bounded by the popliteal 
 origin of the tendon of 
 triceps, and the proximal 
 extremity of the soleus 
 muscles. 
 
 From the popliteal at the 
 distal edge of the popli- 
 teus muscle, perforating 
 the interosscus liga- 
 ments. 
 
 From the popliteal artery, 
 nearly at the same place 
 with the former. 
 
 A''o. Kaiiic!: and Synonymcs. 
 
 39. Popliteal artery. 
 
 Plate XXI. Fig. 4. /;, 
 
 c, d, c. 
 Gives off the 
 .Jrlicular arteries. 
 
 40. Rotular or anterior ti- 
 bial artery. 
 Plate XXI. Fig. 4. i, i, 
 
 1,1. 
 Gives off the 
 Tibial recurrent. 
 Malleolar. 
 Deep anastomatic, &c. 
 
 41. Popliteal or posterior 
 
 tibial artery. 
 Plate XXI. Fig. 4. /3. 
 
 H. Y. 2. 
 Gives off the 
 Posterior interosseal. 
 Common fibular, and 
 Plantar arteries. 
 
 In the above table we have marked the course and 
 distribution of the principal arteries, so as to be best un- 
 derstood by the student of anatomy ; but it will be of con- 
 sequence to general readers to be informed where they 
 may find some of the more important superficial arteries ; 
 and we sliall endeavour to convey this information in a 
 style as familiar as possible. 
 
 The carotid arteries may be felt beating, by pressing 
 with the fingers pretty strongly at the back of the wind- 
 pipe, about the middle of the neck. 
 
 The yada/ artery is very perceptible as it passes over 
 the lower edge of the jaw-bone, about an inch from the 
 posterior angle ; its branches, called the coronaries of 
 the lips, may be felt on the inside of the lips. The 
 buccal artery may be felt in the fleshy part of the cheek, 
 nearly opposite the second grinder of the lower jaw. 
 The sujierficial temporal artery is extremely evident as 
 it passes before the ear, and again as it rises behind the 
 ridge of the temple. 
 
 The subclavUm artery may be felt deep below the mid- 
 dle of the collar-bone, between this and the first rib; the 
 axillary artery deep within the hollow of the arm-pit; 
 the humeral is very perceptible as it passes down 
 the inside of the arm close to the bone, on that side 
 of the biceps muscle (which swells on bending the arm) 
 that is next the little finger ; and again, just at the 
 bend of the elbow. The radial artery is that which 
 beats on the side of the fore-arm next the thumb; and 
 sometimes the ulnar artery may be felt on the opposite 
 side. 
 
 The femoral artery may be felt deep in the groin, 
 about half way between the inner corner of the hip-bone 
 and the middle oi \.hc pubis or share-bone, in a hollow 
 below the ligaments and glauds, but can be traced little 
 
 Distribution of Artene.i. 
 Chiefly supplies the knee- 
 joint and neighbouring 
 muscles. 
 
 Runs down the rotular side 
 of the leg, close to the 
 interosseous ligament, 
 but nearer to the fibula 
 than to the tibia, over the 
 instep, below the crucial 
 ligament, to the metatar- 
 sus and foot, supplying 
 the rotular muscles, the 
 interosseous ligament, 
 the ankles, the leg bones, 
 and most of the foot. 
 
 Runs along the popliteal 
 side of the leg distad to 
 the tibial-ankle, when it 
 passes between the te7ido 
 ylc/iillis and the tibia, to 
 the tibial side and sole of 
 the foot, supplying all 
 these parts as it passes 
 along the great toe, and 
 sole of the foot. 
 
 Connections of Artcriert. 
 Covered by the popliteal 
 veins and nerves, and a 
 considerable quantity of 
 fat. Inosculates with the 
 neighbouring branches. 
 
 Inosculates with branches 
 of the following artery. 
 
 The great saphena is the 
 principal superficial vein 
 in this part. 
 
 Inosculates with branches 
 of the preceding artery, 
 and in particular contri- 
 butes to form with it the 
 plantar arch of the foot. 
 
 The lesser saphena vein 
 follows a similar course 
 in the opposite direction 
 superficially. 
 
 farther, as it is soon lost among the muscles. Scarcely 
 any important arteries of the leg i-un so superficially as 
 to be felt, except the arch formed by the anterior ti- 
 bial, which crosses over the middle of the back of the 
 foot. 
 
 By atten<ling to these hints, our general readers will 
 be enabled either to guard against such accidents as may 
 occasion these arteries to be cut or punctured; or when 
 such accidents occur, will know where to apply the 
 pressure of a pad and bandage, or of the fingers, to stop 
 or moderate the effusion of blood. It must, indeed, be 
 allowed, that in fat or muscular people, these arteries 
 are often not very distinctly felt, but it is still useful to 
 know the exact situations where they lie. 
 
 The heart, arteries, and veins, constitute the sangui- 
 ferous system, so called from their containing the blood, 
 or general mass of circulating fluids. The nature and 
 appearance of the blood demand our particular attention, 
 as it is ultimately from this fluid that all the parts of 
 the body, whether solid or fluid, are derived. We shall, 
 here, however, confine oiu'selves chiefly to its physical 
 and more obvious properties, as the chemical considera- 
 tion of this fluid will form a prominent feature in our 
 animal chemistry, while its motions within the contain- 
 ing vessels will be explained when we treat of the func- 
 tion of circulation, under Physiology. 
 
 Blood is a red fluid, of considerable consistency, a 
 slight saline taste, a peculiar odour, and appears unc- 
 tuous when rubbed between the fingers. Its specific 
 gravity is about 1.0527, or rather greater than that of 
 water. 
 
 While the blood circulates within its vessels, and 
 when it is first drawn from them, it appears homogene- 
 ous ; but on being suffered to remain at rest for some
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 799 
 
 lime, it separates into various portions, easily distinguish- 
 ed from each other. The greater purt re:;iiiis ils Huidily, 
 is of a thin consistence, nearly transparent, and of a green- 
 ish colour. This is calif d the siriini of the blood, from 
 its resemblance to whey. Within this ihiid is seen a 
 solid coaguluni or clot, of considerable firmness, and of 
 a whitish or grayish colour on ils upper surface, but 
 tender, and of a deep red colour below. This is called 
 the cruor or crassamcniiuti of the blood. The firm part 
 on the upper surface, consists of what is called coagula- 
 ble lymph, while the lower part consists of the red glo- 
 bules which contain the colouring part of the blood. 'I'he 
 cruor sometimes appears to float on the surface of the 
 serum, but this happens only when there are numerous 
 bubbles of air attached to its upper part ; forthc specific 
 gravity of this coagulum is greater than that of the se- 
 rum, or even of the blood itself before separation. The 
 specific gravity of the serum is about 1.0287, whereas 
 that of the cruor is about 1.245. 
 
 When the serum is examined more minutely, it is 
 found to coagulate, when heated to the temperature of 
 150°, when it appears like dirty boiled white of egg. 
 It therefore contains albumen; and modern chemistry 
 has shown that it holds in solution gelatine, corbonate 
 of soda, muriate of soda, phosphate of soda, a little pure 
 soda, phosphate of lime, and hydro-sulphuret of am- 
 monia. 
 
 The cruor of the blood consists principally of fibrine, 
 but great part of it is soluble in water, and the solution 
 contains subphosphate of iron, a little soda, and some al- 
 bumen. 
 
 The blood of the foetus differs in some respects from 
 that contained in the vessels after birth. It is of a 
 darker colour, contains no fibrine, and no phosphoric 
 acid, but appears to contain a greater quantity of gela- 
 tine than ordinary blood. As the body increases, and 
 as the person advances in age, the proportion of gela- 
 tine seems to diminish, while that of phosphoric acid 
 and fibrine probably increases. 
 
 Such are the nature and properties of the blood in 
 general, but the blood contained in one set of vessels 
 has a very different colour from that in another set. 
 The blood contained in the ramifications and trunks of 
 the venae cava, the pulmonic sinus, pulmonic auricle, 
 pulmonic ventricle, and the trunk and branches of the 
 pulmonary artery, is of a dark red or crimson colour, 
 ■while that contained within the branches and trunks of 
 the pulmonary veins, in the systemic sinus, the syste- 
 mic auricle, the systemic ventricle, and the trunk and 
 ramifications of the aorta, is of a florid red or scarlet 
 colour. We shall not at present inquire on what this 
 difference depends, but merely notice the fact, as it 
 leads to an important conclusion respecting the propri- 
 ety of the nomenclature which we have adopted in de- 
 scribing the sanguiferous system. Blood of a dark or 
 crimson colour is commonly called venous blood, and 
 that which is of the florid or scarlet red, is called arte- 
 rial blood ; but as dark blood is contained in the pulmo- 
 nary artery, and florid blood in the pulmonary veins, 
 that distinction is evidently improper, and ought to be 
 abolished. We think that Dr Barclay has much im- 
 proved the nomenclature of the sanguiferous system, 
 by denominating those parts of it which contain dark 
 blood destined to be distributed to the \ungs, /lulnionic ; 
 
 and tiiose which contain florid blood, destined to supply 
 the system at large, aynicmic*. 
 
 All llie organs of circulation occasionally exhibit a 
 variety of morbid appearances; but ihese are most re- 
 markable in the heart and pericardium. The pericar- 
 dium is sometimes inflamed, and preternatural adhesions 
 are found to have taken place beiween it and the heart. 
 It is sonicliiues cartilaginous or bony, and scrofulous 
 tumours not unfre(|uently appear about it. In a few cases 
 the watery fluid within the pericardimn is almost want- 
 ing, but more frequently ils quantity is increased. Dr 
 Baillie once saw a case in which the pericardium was 
 entirely wanting. 
 
 The heart is sometimes found in a state of inflamma- 
 tion, and fibrous concretions, called fiotylii, are often 
 seen within its cavities. In some cases the heart is 
 unusually loaded with fat. A rupture is occasionally 
 found to have taken place, either in the substance, or in 
 the valves of the heart, and a preternatural dilatation, 
 called aneuriam, either in the cavilies of the heart, or, 
 what is more usual, in the arch of the aorta, is now and 
 then observed. Parts of the substance of the heart, of 
 its valves, of the aorta, or of the coronary arteries, arc 
 often found ossified or bony ; and still more frequently, 
 some of these parts arc found to be thickened and 
 opaque, or whitish. That peculiar kind of worm called 
 hydatid, is sometimes found within the heart. The sub- 
 stance of the heart has been found extremely soft, and 
 sometimes of a scirrhous hardness. 
 
 The appearance of aneurismal swellings in the arte- 
 ries and enlargements hi the veins, called varicose swell- 
 ings, are not unfrequent. 
 
 On the structure of the heart, arteries, and veins. See 
 W^inslow, Traite d'Anatoinic ; Senac, Traite du Caur ; 
 Birhat, Anatomic Dfscri/itivf, tom. iv. and Anatomic 
 Ginrra/f, tom. ii. ; Portal's Cours cV Anatomic Medi- 
 cate, lorn. iii. ; Murray's Uesciiptio Artcriarum Corjio- 
 ?v.s Hinnani in Tabulas redacia ; or two translations of 
 the same work, one by Mr Archibald Scott, published 
 at Edinl)urgh, and another at London, under the aus- 
 pices of Mr James Macartney ; Bell's Anatomu, vol. ii. ; 
 and Fyfc's Conifiendium of Anatomy, vols. ii. and iii. For 
 figures illustrating the distribution of the arteries. Sec 
 Haller's Iconcs Anatotnicte ; Loder's Tahida Anatumicx ; 
 and Mr Charles Bell's Engraving's of the Arteries. 
 
 Explanation of Plate XXIf. 
 
 Fig. 1. Re/tresents the principal arteries and veins of 
 the face, ivith the neighbouring muscles, isfc. 
 
 35. The ma*se^£T muscle of the left side; 2&, depres- 
 sor anguli oris ; 37, defiressor labii infevoris ; 38, 39, 
 lower and upper portions of the orbicularis oris; 40, na- 
 salis labii supfrioi'is oi Aldiniis ; 41, buccinator; 42, zy- 
 gomaticus ; 43, 44, levatores labii su/ierioris ; 45, orbicu- 
 laris paljiebrx ; 46, frontal belly of the epicranius ; 47, 
 temporal ; 48, part of the slernomastoideus ; 49, the 
 wind-pipe ; 50, the spinal marrow. 32, The sub-max- 
 illary gland ; 33, 35, the parotid gland. 
 
 A, The common trunk of the carotid artery, in out- 
 line, as it passes below the muscles ; B, the common 
 trunk of the jugular vein above the muscles ; C, the 
 internal carotid; D, the external carotid ; E, the com- 
 mencement of the superior thyroid artery passing under 
 
 * Venous blood is, of coiirse, bv Dr Barclay termed pulmonic, and arterial blood systemic. See the note at ]>age S12. 
 t For the e.xplanation of Plate XX- see the conclusion of the following chapter.
 
 800 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 the jugular vein ; F, the course of the lingual artery 
 below the veins ; G, G, the course of the labial artery ; 
 H, H, the trunk of the rxur/wl carotid, in outline, pass- 
 ing upward tlirough the /larutid gland ; I, I, the course 
 of the ocdliital artery below the gland and muscles, till 
 it emerges near the middle of the occiput ; K, the 
 course of the lihanjnt^val artery ; L, N, superficial 
 branches of the labial artery ; G, G, Q, R, S, T, the 
 course of the superior maxillary artery and its anasto- 
 moses ; Y, K, K, P, the coronary arteries of the lips ; 
 X, the situation of the trunk of the infraorbital artery, 
 which is here below the muscles. 6, The trunk of the 
 ophthalmic artery issuing from the orbit; A, the poste- 
 rior auricular artery; 15, the temporal artery; 17, its 
 interior branch; 22, its exterior branch; 26, the facial 
 vein ; 27, the temporal vein. 
 
 Fig. 2. Exhibits a view of the Jirinci/tal sujicrjidal 
 blood-vessels and muscles, on the thenal or palmar as- 
 pect of the right arm and hand. 
 
 Muscles. jI, coraco-hyoideiis ; B, trafiezius ; C, C, 
 Deltoid muscle ; D, latissimus dorsi ; E, teres major ; 
 F, coraco-brachialis ; G, bice/is brachii ; H, H, Brachialis 
 intemus ; M, sujiinaior longus ; A\ lironator teres ; O, O, 
 radialis externus ; P, sublimis ; Q, ulnaris intemus ; Ji, 
 part of the ulnaris externus ; .S', part of the lirofundus ; 
 T, fialmaris longus : A', abductor /lollicis ; Z,Jlexor jtol- 
 licis longus s a, a, adductor poUicis ; e, abductor indicis ; 
 c, e. g, i, lumbricalcs ; m, abductor digiti minimi ; n, an- 
 nular ligament of the wrist; p, part of the /lalmaris 
 brevis. 
 
 nal pudic artery ; /;, inferior external pudic ; i^, supe- 
 rior articular artery of the knee ; a, inferior articular 
 artery of the tibia. 
 
 Fig. 4. Exhibits a view of the fore part of the leg and 
 back of the foot, with their principal muscles and blood- 
 vessels. 
 
 Bones. A, the patella; B, the radial or internal con- 
 dyle of the thigh-bone ; C, the fibular or external con- 
 dyle ; D, the head of the tibia; E, the ligament of the 
 patella ; F, G, the lower part of tlie tibia ; H, the fibu- 
 lar or outer ankle ; I, the instep ; K, the navicular bone ; 
 L, the metatarsal bone of the great toe ; O, the os cu- 
 boides. 
 
 Muscles. D, biceps cruris ; E, gemini or soleus mus- 
 cles; F, G, tibialis anticus ; H, extensor fiollicis fiedis 
 jirojirius ; I, I, the intcrosseus ligament ; K, L, M M, 
 extensor digitorum longus, with its tendons ; P, fiero- 
 neus brevis; Q, fieroneus longus ; Ii,-S, T, F, X, exten- 
 sor brez'is digitorian pedis ; Y, Z, interossei. 
 
 Blood-vessels, b, superior external articular artery ; 
 f, inferior external ai'ticular artery ; d d, superior inter- 
 nal articular ; e, inferior internal articular ; i i, anterior 
 tibial artery ; / /, its anastomosis, with branches of the 
 posterior tibial ; fi, a branch of the peroneal artery, in- 
 osculating with a branch of the anterior tibial ; S", a 
 branch of the anterior tibial going to the tarsus ; H, an- 
 other going to the metatarsus ; lu., the dorsal artery of 
 the great toe ; S, the plantar artery. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Arterie.1 and Veins. 
 
 A, a part of the trunk of the superior vena cava; B, 
 the jugular vein ; C, the left subclavian ; D, the exter- 
 nal jugular ; E E, the cephalic vein ; H, the basilic ; 
 K, the median ; L, the principal meeting of the basilic 
 and cephalic; O, the common trunk of the right sub- 
 clavian and right carotid arteries ; P, the right carotid ; 
 Q, the right subclavian ; R, the inferior thyroid ; S, the 
 deep cervical artery ; $, scapular artery ; ^, the ante- 
 rior circumflex ; Y, to d, the course of the axillary and 
 humeral artery, till at d it gives off' the ulnar artery ; 
 f, i, /:, branches of the radial artery ; x, a branch of the 
 ulnar going to the little finger ; y, z, the arterial arch 
 in the palm of the hand, formed chiefly by the ulnar 
 artery. 
 
 A^erx'cs. 6, 6, 8, roots of the brachial plexus; 7, 10, 
 principal trunk of the radial nerve ; 9, the musculo-cu- 
 tancous nerve ; 1 1 , a part of the arm to be avoided in 
 bleeding, for fear of puncturing the radial nerve ; c, 
 another part to be avoided in the same operation, from 
 the risk of puncturing the artery. 
 
 Fig. 3. Gives an anterior view of the right thigh, with 
 its principal muscles and blood-vessels. 
 
 Jiluscles. A, A, A, the sartorius ; B, B, tens'yr vagina 
 femoris ; C, psoas minor ; D, rectus cruris ; E, vastus 
 externus ; F, vastus intemus; G, pectineus ; H, I, K K, 
 the three parts of the triceps ; L, g7-acilis ; M M, se7ni- 
 membranosus. 
 
 N, N, N, three of the inguinal glands, lying on the 
 sartorius, pectineus, and triceps muscles, with lympha- 
 tics proceeding from them. 
 
 Blood-vessels, a, trunk of the femoral artery ; b, its 
 deep seated branch ; c, the internal circumflex ; d, the 
 external circumflex ; y, _/, large branches of the pro- 
 funda, perforating the muscles ; 7n, the superior exter- 
 
 0/ the Organs of Absorption. 
 
 To convey the nutritious particles of the food sepa- 
 rated in the stomach and alimentary canal, to the gene- 
 ral mass of circulating fluids, the body is provided with 
 numerous small vessels that open into the cavity of the 
 intestines, traverse the mesentery, where they pass 
 through what are called the mesenteric glands, from 
 which they again emerge, and gradually unite in larger 
 tubes, till they all centre in one vessel that lies beside 
 the ascending vena cava, and carries its contents into 
 the left subclavian vein. These vessels have been called 
 lacteals, from the fluid they contain being of a milky 
 colour. Numerous vessels of a similar structure take 
 their origin from all the principal cavities of the body, 
 and probably from every part of its surface. These take 
 up the fluids that have been separated from the general 
 mass of blood, and which are no longer adapted to the 
 purposes for which they were separated, or are excre- 
 mentitJous, and would prove injurious to the system, if 
 retained. These vessels carry the matters they receive 
 to the same general trunk with the lacteals, and most 
 of them pass into bodies, of a roundish form and glan- 
 dular appearance. These vessels are called ly?nphatics, 
 and the bodies through which they pass lymphatic glands. 
 The general trunk in which the lacteals and lymphatics 
 ultimately meet, is called the thoracic duct, as its course 
 is chiefly confined to the thorax or chest. The lacteals, 
 mesenteric glands, lymphatic glands, and thoracic duct, 
 constitute the organs of absorption, or the absorbent sys- 
 tem. 
 
 The lacteals and lymphatics (see Plate XX.) ai'e so 
 nearly alike in structure, disposition, and uses, that we 
 shall consider them together under the general head of 
 absorbent vessels. These are extremely minute, and 
 so transparent, that in tlieir natural state they are scarce-
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 80] 
 
 ly criscerniblc by the naked eye ; though, wliile the 
 lacleals arc filled with chyle, or when any ol' the absor- 
 benls are injected with an opaque lluid, such as mercu- 
 ry, they are very perceptible. We then find that they 
 arc cylindrical lubes, resembling the small branches of 
 veins in tlie thinness and Uaccidity of their sides ; but 
 having more of a jointed ajipearance, owing to the greater 
 number of valves, which are thickly set within their 
 cavities. Their sides, though extremely thin, appear to 
 be of considerable strength, and so far as can be ascer- 
 tained, from an examination of the thoracic duct, they 
 are composed of two coats ; an inner membrane, that is 
 extremely fine and delicate, resembling the internal 
 membrane of the veins, and an outer coat, giving them 
 their strength and elasticity. Some anatomists have 
 supposed that this outer coat contains muscular fibres, 
 but the presence of these has not been proved. As there 
 is no doubt, however, that the absorbents possess a power 
 of contracting when irritated, it is probable that their 
 external coat is of a muscular texture. See Cruikshank 
 on the jibsorbentSi 2d ed. p. 62. 
 
 The valves of tlie absorbents, like those of the veins, 
 are arranged in pairs, at very short and generally regu- 
 lar intervals. Bichat supposes them to be formed by dou- 
 blings of the proper or external coat of the absorbents. 
 
 The absorbent vessels run from the points where they 
 originate, in a serpentine direction, and as they pass, 
 they frequently unite with each other, sometimes form- 
 ing an intricate net-work. Like the veins, they are 
 most numerous at their origin, and after passing through 
 glands, they become less numerous. The ramifications 
 almost always unite at very acute angles, in this respect 
 resembling those of the nerves. 
 
 The lymphatics are divided into deep-seated and su- 
 perficial, according as they arise from the central or 
 peripheral parts of the body. The superficial lympha- 
 tics are the most numerous, and the most easily exa- 
 mined. They run immediately below the skin, and the 
 glands through which they pass are very evident to the 
 touch in several parts of the body, especially in the 
 groins and arm-pits. The deep-seated lymphatics usual- 
 ly accompany the branches of the veins and arteries, 
 and are supposed to be more than double their number. 
 All these are nourished by very minute blood-vessels, 
 and appear to be furnished with nervous fibres. 
 
 The lacteals that originate in the intestines, are ex- 
 tremely numerous, especially at their origin. They run 
 beside the branches of the mesenteric arteries and veins, 
 and form several considerable trunks, as they approach 
 the trunks of these vessels 
 
 The lymphatic glands are round or oval bodies, gene- 
 rally flattened, and of a reddish brown colour in young 
 people, but grayish or yellowish in those of more ad- 
 vanced age. They are of very different sizes, some be- 
 ing not larger than a millet seed, while others are nearly 
 an inch in diameter. They are found in various parts 
 of the body, but are most remarkable in the arm-pits, 
 the neck, the groins, the ancles, and about the joints of 
 the knees. See Plate XX. They are situated in the 
 cellular substance, and are enveloped each in a membra- 
 nous covering, that is of a dense texture, and smooth 
 appearance, and which seems to be derived from the 
 cellular substance by which they are connected with the 
 neighbouring parts. In their Internal structure they 
 arc soft and pulpy, and seem to be composed of cells 
 containing a whitish fluid. Some of them appear rather 
 like a collection of minute vessels than of cells. They 
 
 Vol. I. Part II. 
 
 are all supplied with blood-vessels and nerves. The 
 mesenteric glands do not differ essentially from the otiiei 
 glands of the absorbent system. Tliey are generally ol 
 a considerable size, of an oval from. Sec Plate XVIII. 
 Fig. 12.) and of a whiiish colour. Tliey are situated be- 
 tween the folds of the mesentery, and are usually placed 
 in groups ol three or four together, towards the large 
 branches of the mesenteric vessels. All the lacteals do 
 not pass through the mesenteric glands, several having 
 been observed to creep over them. 
 
 The lymphatic glands have been compared to the 
 ganglions of the nervous system, and are by some anato- 
 mists supposed to produce some important change on 
 the fluids that pass through them. That the mesente- 
 ric glands are intended to prepare the chyle more com- 
 pletely before its entrance into tlie sanguiferous system, 
 there can be little doubt, though, from the circumstance 
 mentioned above, it might ajipcar that these glands were 
 not absolutely necessary. As, however, nearly all the 
 lacteals pass through these glands, we must consider 
 those instances in which they run over them in passing 
 to the throracic duct, as oidy accidental exceptions in 
 the general plan of Nature ; and as these vessels freely 
 inosculate with each other, the fluid that c;'ch contains 
 nmst be mixed and modified by Uiat which passes 
 through the others. 
 
 We have said, that most of the absorbent vessels 
 pass i7U(j lymphatic glands. We may now remark, that 
 similar vessels, though usually fewer in number, and 
 of a larger diameter, pass out at the opposite sides of 
 these glands. The entering vessels are called by ana- 
 tomists vasa inftrentia, (i. e. -vessels cafrijing the absor- 
 bed matters into the glands,) and the emerging vessels 
 imsa effcrentia, (^ovvessels carrying ix out. ^ The circum- 
 stance of the emerging lymphatics being less numerous 
 than the entering, proves that they are distinct vessels, 
 and not, as some have supposed, a continuation of the 
 same trunks passing through the glands. 
 
 The lacteals coming from the bowels, and the lym- 
 phatic vessels from all the sacral parts of the body, gra- 
 dually unite at about the the third vertebra of tlie loins, 
 in a vessel of larger diameter than the largest branches 
 of the lacteals or lymphatics ; but of the same structure, 
 both in its membranes and valves. This is the thoracic 
 duct^ which soon after its commencement swells into 
 an oval cavity, of rather larger diameter than the rest 
 of the tube, called the recrfitacle of the chyle. This re- 
 ceptacle is generally situated near the first vertebra of 
 the loins, on the right side, a little higher than the re- 
 nal artery. From this part, the thoracic duct ascends 
 between the crura of the diaphragm into the chest, where 
 it passes between the descending aorta and the azygos 
 vein, growing gradually smaller till it reaches the mid- 
 dle of the back, where it again begins to dilate. At 
 about the eighth dorsal vertebra, counting from above, 
 it frequently divides into two tubes ; but these soon after 
 reunite. Passing behind the aorta, it leaves the chest, 
 and mounts upwards to the lower part of the neck., in- 
 clining towards the left side, behind the left subclavian 
 vein. Having reached the neck a little above the sub- 
 clavian, it makes a turn downwards, and enters the ve- 
 nous system, at the angle formed by the junction of the 
 left subclavian, with the left internal jugular vein. In its 
 passage through the chest, it receives numerous absor- 
 bents from the viscera contained in that cavit)-, and from 
 all the atlantal parts of the body, thus forming the gene- 
 ral centre of the whole absorbent system. 
 5 I
 
 B02 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 The (liaiiK'tci- ol' the thoruck duct varies, as \vc liave 
 seen, in difl'eient pans of lis course. At the rccc/itaclc 
 of ihc cliylif it is sometimes nearly a third of an inch in 
 diameter; and where it terminates in the veins, its dia- 
 meter is commonly i or ^L of an inch ; while in its mid- 
 dle, and most contracted part, it is scarcely more than 
 half a line. It is generally descrihed as about as large as 
 a crow quill. It runs in a waving direction. 
 
 We have, in compliance with custom, described the 
 thoracic duct as single ; but it very conimonly happens 
 that there are two ducts, one on the left and the other on 
 the right side, though that on tlie right side is general- 
 ly extremly short. In a few cases, the thoracic duct is 
 double through its whole length, and each of its divi- 
 sions terminates in separate parts of the venous sys- 
 tem ; one in the usual angle on ti>e left side, the other 
 in the corresponding angle on the right. 
 
 We have said that the lacleals are filled with chyle, 
 and the lymphatics with a transparent watery fluid, which 
 is called lymph. We must briefly notice the general 
 appearance and chemical properties of these fluids. 
 
 The lymph is a watery liquor, usually transparent, 
 though, when subjected to sufiicient heat, it is coagula- 
 ble. It can seldom be obtained in any quantity from the 
 lymphatics, except when these are accidentally divided 
 in the living body, and in these cases it sometimes distils 
 from the wound, so as to impede its healing. The lymph 
 contained in the lymphatics has scarcely been examined 
 by chemical analysis, but so far as can be ascertained, 
 it is of the same nature with that which is collected 
 within the cavities of the body, and which is very simi- 
 lar to the serum of the blood. 
 
 The chyle contained in the lactcals is a fluid of great- 
 er importance ; but unfortunately our acquaintance with 
 this fluid is not very extensive. In its general appear- 
 ance it resembles milk, being of a white colour, coagu- 
 lable by heat, containing a fatty matter resembling cream, 
 a sweetish substance like sugar, and a few neutral salts, 
 the nature of which has not been ascertained. See Chem- 
 istry. 
 
 Several morbid appearances are frequently discovered 
 on dissection, in the absorbent system. The lymphatic 
 vessels are often inflamed, and in this state are distinctly 
 seen below the skin like red lines, which when touched, 
 feel like hard tense cords, and are very painful. The 
 lymphatic glands, especially those of the neck and groin, 
 are frequently inflamed, and very readily pass into a 
 state of suppuration, as in scrofula and syphilis. The 
 lymphatic glands are sometimes found in a scirrhous 
 state. This more especially happens to the glands of 
 the arm-pit, in cases of cancerotis breast. They have 
 also been seen bony. The mesenteric glands are fre- 
 quently diseased. Sometimes they are obstructed, and in 
 these cases their size is greatly increased; they appear 
 like boiled yolks of eggs, and on being cut open, are 
 found to contain a whitish or yellowish curdy matter. 
 They are sometimes cancerous, when any part of the 
 intestines in their neighbourhood is affected by that dis- 
 ease ; and in a few instances they have been found filled 
 with an earthy or bony matter. The thoracic duct is 
 sometimes greatly enlarged, a remarkable instance of 
 which enlargement is described and figured by Mr 
 Cruikshank. Sometimes it is obstructed by an earthy 
 inatter deposited within its cavity, and in a very few in- 
 stances it has been seen ruptured. 
 
 In no part of the animal structure have the investiga- 
 lions of the later anatomists been more successful than 
 
 in the absorbent system. Indeed this system may be 
 considered as having been entirely unknown before the 
 year 1627, wlien Asellius published his account ol the 
 lacteals, which he had first observed in 1622. It was 
 only in the interior animals, however, that Asellius saw 
 the lacteal vessels; and the first person who appears to 
 liave been favoured with a sight of them in man, was 
 Veslingius, in 1634. This anatomist appears also to 
 have been the first who saw the thoracic duct, whicli, ac- 
 cording to Haller, was discovered by Veslingius in 1 649, 
 though no account of it was published till that of Pec- 
 quet, in 1651. Much about this time, the Swedish ana- 
 tomist Rudbec, discovered the lymphatic vessels, an ac- 
 count of which was first published in 1653, by Uartliolin. 
 It appears that the lymphatics had been seen in Eng- 
 land by Dr Jolyfle, so early as 1633, as Glisson, in his 
 work Dc Vtntriculo el Intestinu, published in 1654, in- 
 forms us ; but Jolyfle seems not to have understood their 
 nature or uses. The valves of the absorbent vessels were 
 first seen by Swammerdam in 1 664, and they were de- 
 scribed by Ruysch in the following year. Both Swammer- 
 dam and Ruysch understood the meliiod of demonstrating 
 the absorbent vessels by injection ; but this important art 
 was greatly improved by Nuck, who, in 1691, explain- 
 ed his method of injecting the absorbents with quick- 
 silver. This method was farther improved by Sheldon, 
 and has been practised with great success by the disci- 
 ples of Ur William Hunter in London, the second Dr 
 Monro in Eduiburgh, and by Mascagni in Italy. 
 
 The knowledge of the absorbent system was further 
 enlarged in the latter end of the 18th century, by the 
 pupils of Hunter and Monro, who discovered that these 
 vessels were not confined to man and quadrupeds. They 
 were seen in crocodiles and geese, by Mr John Hunter; 
 in several birds, in some fishes, and in the sea urchin, 
 by Dr Monro and his assistants ; in the turtle by Mr 
 Hewson, who also discovered them in fishes. Mr Shel- 
 don gave the first complete account of the lacteals in 
 1784; and two years after, Mr Cruikshank published 
 the first edition of his Anatomy of the Absorbent Vessels 
 of the Human body; a second edition of which appear- 
 ed in 1790, and nearly completed our knowledge of the 
 absorbent system. Still later, the Italian anatomist Mas- 
 cagni has added to our information respecting the human 
 absorbents, by publishing the most splendid engravings 
 of them that have ever appeared ; and in our own times 
 the method of injecting these vessels has been much 
 improved by employing, in certain cases, a steel or iron 
 syringe, with a capillary pipe, instead of Sheldon's 
 method of filling them, by the weight of a very long 
 column of mercury, falling from the capillaiy extremi- 
 ty of a glass tube. Dr Barclay has used this syringe 
 witli the best effect in injecting the lymphatic glands, 
 where considerable force is required, and where the 
 glass tube would be extremely unmanageable. 
 
 The most important works on the absorbent system 
 are, Sheldon's History of the ylbsorbents ; Cruikshank's 
 Anatomy of the Absorbent Vessels; Monro de Vasis 
 Lyinfihatkis Valvulosis ; Hewson's Experimental £n- 
 giiiries into the Lymp.hatic System ; Mascagni De Venis 
 Lymjihatids ; and Bichat's Anatomie Generate, tom- ii. 
 On the diseases of the lymphatics, see a Dissertation 
 by professor Soemmering, De Morbis Vasorum Absor- 
 bentium Corporis Humani ; Adams's Obnmmtions on 
 Morbid Poisons ; and Baillie's Morbid Anatomy. The 
 best figures of the Lymphatics are those of Cruikshank 
 and Mascagni, the latter of which have been copied into
 
 ANAT03IY. 
 
 80G 
 
 Loder's TabuLe Anatomicx, and Dr Parr's JVenu London 
 Medical Dictionary. A view of the Lacteals and Me- 
 senteric Glands, with their relative situation witli re- 
 spect to the mesenteric vessels, is given in Plate XIX. 
 ot" the present work, Fig. 12 ; and a general view of the 
 principal superficial absorbents, and several of those 
 that are deep-seated, is afforded by the whole length 
 figure in Plate XX. 
 
 Explanation of Plate XX. 
 
 The figure in this plate is represented as entire, but 
 for the purpose of displaying more accurately the course 
 of the lymphatics, the skin and the sternal parts of the 
 chest and belly are supposed to be transparent, so that 
 the absorbent vessels may be seen through them. The 
 contents of the chest appear in their natural state, but a 
 great part of the abdominal viscera, comprehending the 
 intestines, the pancreas, the spleen, and the urinary 
 bladder, are supposed to be removed. The liver, the 
 stomach, and part of the spleen, and the kidneys remain. 
 Numerous superficial absorbents are seen running up 
 the inside of the legs and thighs, especially on the left 
 side, and passing through the inguinal glands into the 
 belly, where they are seen gradually to unite in tiie 
 space between the two kidneys, with the lymphatics and 
 lacteals from the intestines, forming the thoracic duct, 
 or that white tube which is seen passing along the 
 spine, behind the liver and the heart, and appearing 
 again in the upper part of the chest, on the left side, 
 till it reaches the part where it makes a turn downwards 
 to enter the veins. A great number of superficial ab- 
 sorbents are also seen running up the inside of each 
 arm, especially on the right, where they follow the 
 course of the humeral vein, and pass through glands in 
 the aiTn-pit and shoulder. Other absorbents are repre- 
 sented as coming down the neck, and all entering the 
 thoracic duct. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Of the Organs of Respiration and Voice. 
 
 Respiration, or that function by which atmospheric air 
 is alternately received and emitted by the animal body, 
 is performed by organs very different in their uses and 
 structure. Those which are more immediately required 
 for the reception and emission of the air, are the lungs 
 and the wind-pipe ; but these organs appear to be chiefly 
 passive in the function of respiration. Others are ne- 
 cessary for the purpose either of expanding the cavity 
 in which the lungs are placed, and thus enabling them 
 to receive a greater supply of fresh air, or for cpmpress- 
 ing them into a smaller space, so as to expel a part of 
 the air which had become unfit for effecting the neces- 
 sary changes in the animal economy. These accessory 
 organs are chiefly the diaphragm, the ribs, and the 
 muscles, by which these are elevated or depressed. In 
 the present chapter we shall describe the lungs, the 
 ■wind-pipe and its appendages, and the diaphragm. 
 
 Sect. I. Of the General Organs of Res/iiration. 
 
 Before describing the lungs, it is necessary that we 
 explain the form and boundaries of the thorax or chest 
 in which they are contained. 
 
 The cavity of tlie chest is of considerable size, ex- 
 tending from the lower part of the neck to tlie scrohicu- 
 lun cordis or pit of the stomach, on the fore part, to the 
 last vertebra of the back, behind and in the sides, nearly 
 to the lowest part of the caitilages of the ribs. It ib 
 much wider below than above, owing to the gradual ex- 
 pansion of the lower ribs. As each rib is moveable 
 between the bodies of tlie vertebrae with which it is 
 connected, and as the sternum or breast-ljone, from its 
 connection with the ribs, partakes of their motions; the 
 cavity of the chest is susceptible of considerable dilata- 
 tion and contraction; and these changes in its extent arc 
 much assisted, as we shall see presently, by the contrac- 
 tion of the diaphragm, or by the strong action of the 
 abdominal muscles pressing the bowels upward. The 
 whole cavity is lined by a very firm fibrous membi'ane, 
 called the pleura, which wc siiall presently consider 
 more at large. The principal divisions of the cavity of 
 the chest are those formed on the right and left side by 
 the mediastinum extending, from the sternum to tlie 
 vertebrae. Of these cavities the right is larger than the 
 left, and both are completely filled by tlie lungs. 
 
 Those large spongy membranous and vascular parts 
 which we call lunga, consist chiefly of two divisions, to 
 which anatomists give the name of lobes. Each of these 
 lobes is again subdivided into smaller portions also called 
 lobes; the riglit lung being generally divided into three, 
 and the left lung into two lobes. These small lobes are 
 also slightly subdivided into still smaller portions, called 
 llie lobules of the lungs. The lungs in their general 
 form are very irregular. They are convex next the 
 sides of the thorax, concave next the diaphragm, une- 
 qually flattened next the heart, terminate in a broad 
 round part behind, and by edges more or less acute on 
 their sternal and sacral sides. Indeed, from their tex- 
 ture, their form must in a great degree depend on that 
 of the adjoining parts. Their colour varies at different 
 ages. In children and young people they are usually 
 of a fine red or pink colour; they assume a light blue or 
 grayish tinge in middle age, and in old people they be- 
 come more or less dark and livid. To the touch they 
 are soft and spongy, and extremely elastic. In thiir 
 specific gravity they are the lightest of all the animal 
 organs, even when completely exhausted of air. On 
 their peripheral surface, the lungs are smooth and 
 glossy. They are inveloped in a very fine and delicate 
 transparent membrane, derived from the plcui-a, and 
 through this the peripheral substance of the lungs has 
 the appearance of net-work. They are connected at 
 their dorsal side to the spine by the pleura; to the 
 lower part of the neck by the wind-pipe ; and to the 
 heart by the roots of the pulmonary artery and veins ; 
 but towards the ribs, the mediastinum, and the dia- 
 phragm, they are in their natural state unconnected, so 
 as readily to yield to the motions of the ribs and dia- 
 phragm. 
 
 The lungs in their internal structure, are composed 
 of a great number of membranous cells, of numerous 
 ramifications, of blood-vessels, with nerves and lympha- 
 tics, all connected by cellular substance. The cells of 
 the lungs constitute the greatest part of their bulk. 
 These are very small, of an irregular figure, with very 
 thin membranous sides. They are closely connected 
 and compressed at their sides, and they freely commu- 
 nicate with each other, but have no communication with 
 the cellular substance by which they are connected. 
 From the cells there arise small hollow tubes, which 
 5 I 2
 
 804 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 gradually form other larger tubes, till, at the upper part 
 of the thorax, all the tubes oti each side unite in one, 
 and these two branches at length join to form tlie wind- 
 pipe. At their commencement, these tubes are mem- 
 branous, but as they unite together to form the two 
 branches of the wind-pipe, they become cartilaginous. 
 They are generally called bronchi or bronchix. Tiic 
 ramifications of the blood-vessels form also a large part 
 of the substance of the lungs, and chiefly consist of the 
 divisions of the pulmonary artery and veins, with the 
 capillaries between their extremities. These ramifica- 
 tions are spread over every part of the cellular structure 
 of the lungs, running througiiout the cellular substance 
 that connects the air-cells. There are, however, other 
 blood-vessels, called the bronchial vessels, intended to 
 convey nourishment to the lungs; while the ramifica- 
 tions of what are called the pumionary vessels, seem 
 destined to distribute the circulatmg fluids tlirough 
 every part of those spongy bodies, for the purpose of 
 being freely subjected to the action of the air. 
 
 Besides the common coat that surrounds the lobes of 
 the luiigs, and is derived from the pleura, there is a 
 very delicate membrane closely connected with the sub- 
 stance of the lungs, and surrounding each of the compo- 
 nent lobules. This appears to be derived from the cel- 
 lular substance. 
 
 The windpipe, called by modern anatomists the tra- 
 chea, and by the older medical writers, asfiera arteria., 
 is situated in the sternal part of the neck, extending 
 from that remarkable protuberance a little below the 
 chin, into the thorax, where it enters the posterior or 
 dorsal mediastinun^, and about the third vertebra of the 
 back, divides into the two branches which form the 
 union of the bronchi. The windpipe is a tube of con- 
 siderable size, of nearly a cylindrical form at its sternal 
 side, but flattened at its dorsal part. Next the head it 
 joins what is called the larynx, which may properly be 
 considered as an appendage to the windpipe. Behind 
 it is closely connected with the gullet. It is chiefly 
 composed of cartilaginous rings that are complete on 
 the dorsal side. Each of these rings is about ^ inch 
 broad, and i line in thickness. They are generally 16 
 or 18 in number, and are placed horizontally, with their 
 edges next each other. There is a small space between 
 them, and this is filled up by a ligamentous elastic sub- 
 stance. In the atlantal part of the windpipe, the carti- 
 lages are sometimes joined to each other, but in the 
 middle and sacral parts they are perfectly distinct. The 
 cartilages are continued from the trunk of the windpipe 
 to the bronchi, till they begin to enter the cells of the 
 lungs ; but in that part of the bronchi that is next the 
 two principal branches, they are not composed each of 
 one piece, as in the windpipe, but consist of two or 
 three pieces, so connected as to surround the bronchi, 
 and preserve their cylindrical form. 
 
 The windpipe and bronchi are covered on their peri- 
 pheral surface with a strong membrane that is of con- 
 siderable thickness on the trunk of the windpipe, but 
 becomes thinner on the bronchi. It is composed chiefly 
 of longitudinal fibres running parallel to each other, and 
 very obvious to the sight. On their outer surface these 
 fibres are of a reddish colour, but appear whitish next 
 the cartilages. The membranous part that forms the 
 dorsal side of the windpipe, is partly composed of this 
 outer membrane, and par.ly of two layers of what ap- 
 pear to be muscular fibres ; one layer being arranged 
 Jongitudinally, the other in a transverse direction. On 
 
 its central surface the windpipe is lined with a delicatCi 
 very irritable membrane, that is cont.nued from the 
 larynx through the bronchi, and probably to the air-cells 
 of the lungs. In tlie neck, the wliole outer surface of 
 the windpipe is inveloped with loose cellular substance, 
 from which it derives a general covering, and within 
 the chest it takes a peripheral coat from the medias- 
 tinum. 
 
 The cavity of the windpipe and bronchi is moistened 
 by a mucous liquor that exudes through their internal 
 membrane, and is derived from numerous small glands 
 situated on their peripheral surface, and opening ccntrad 
 by numerous small excretory ducts. These are called 
 the tracheal glands. Other glandular bodies connected 
 with the absorbent system of the lungs, are situated 
 within the cellular substance that surrounds the roots 
 of the bronchi, and the sacral extremity of the wind- 
 pipe. These are of various sizes, some being no larger 
 than a millet seed, while others equal the tip of the little 
 finger. They are of a dark colour, and of a similar tex- 
 ture with the other lymphatic glands. They are called 
 the bronchial glands. 
 
 The windpipe is supplied with arterial branches from 
 the inferior laryngeal arteries, and its nerves come 
 chiefly from the great sympathetics. 
 
 At the atlantal extremity of the windpipe, on its 
 sternal side, there is a larger glandular body of a dark 
 red colour, called the thyroid gland, from its being 
 partly situated over the thyroid cartilage. This gland 
 consists of two lobes that extend downwards over the 
 side of the windpipe and gullet, and are united before 
 by an intermediate portion. E.xamined centrad, this 
 gland is found to be composed of numerous small 
 grains connected by cellular substance, and it gener- 
 ally contains a viscid liquor. The use of this gland 
 has not been ascertained. It is smaller in women than 
 in men, and from this circumstance the neck is less 
 prominent in females. It is well supplied by particu- 
 lar arteries, which have been enumerated in the table, 
 by the names of superior and inferior thyroid arteries, 
 and has several nerves from those branches called 
 laryngeal. Numerous lymphatics also pass through it. 
 
 The diaphragm is that fleshy partition that is situa- 
 ted between the chest and the belly ; by the Latin 
 anatomists it was called sefitum transversuni, and in com- 
 mon language it is known by the name of midriff. This 
 partition is composed chiefly of muscular and tendinous 
 fibres, which arc arranged in various directions. But 
 the tendinous fibres commonly occupy its central and 
 sternal parts, while the muscular fibres compose its 
 lateral and posterior parts. See Plate XIV. Fig. 3. 
 The diaphragm is attached at its fore part to the central 
 surface of the ensiform cartilage that terminates the 
 sacral extremity of the sternum ; laterally it is united to 
 the cartilages of the two sacral true ribs, and to those of 
 all the false ribs. These attachments are by means of 
 muscular fibres, which run in a radiating direction 
 towards the central tendon. By other fleshy fibres for- 
 ming four bundles or heads, called the crura of the 
 diaphragm, it is attached to the four superior vertebrae 
 of the loins. Two of these heads are longer than the 
 others and arc called the long crura. These run diverg- 
 ing from each other towards the central tendon, near 
 which their fibres cross each other, and form an oval 
 opening through which the gullet passes from the 
 chest to the cardiac portion of the stomach. See Fig. 
 3. G. A little dorsad of this oval opening there is ano-
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 805 
 
 thcr separation between the fleshy fibres of the *rura, 
 for the passuije of the great trunk of the aorta ; and tlic 
 thoracic duct, abed c. Near the sternal part of the 
 oval openinij for the gullet, on the right side, there is a 
 considerable triangular space between tlie tendinous fi- 
 bres. Through this passes the trunk of the sacral vena 
 cava, F. 
 
 The diaphragm, considered as a muscle, is usually 
 divided by anatomists into two portions, called the great- 
 er and less muscles of the diaphragm, the former 
 consisting of the large central tendon, which forms the 
 principal part of the portion, and of these fleshy fibres 
 that are attached to the sternum and the ribs, while the 
 latter is formed chiefly by the crura attached to the 
 vertebrae of the loins. As the greater muscle is more 
 atlantal, or, in the vertical position of the body, higher 
 than the lesser muscle ; the former is sometimes cal- 
 led the superior, and the latter the inferior diaphragm. 
 
 In the natural position of the diaphragm, when it is 
 neither much contracted nor much dilated, its nms- 
 cular fibres are arched towards the thorax. When 
 these are thrown into strong contractions, as during a 
 deep inspiration, they become much less arched, and 
 the whole diaphragm is considerably flattened ; while 
 on the contrary, when they are in a state of relaxa- 
 tion, and the abdominal viscera strongly compressed 
 by the action of the abdominal muscles, the convexity 
 of the diaphragm towards the cavity of the thorax is 
 greatly increased. This happens during a violent ex- 
 piration. 
 
 The diaphragm is covered next the thorax by a 
 membrane derived from the pleura, and towards the 
 belly it is invested by a production of the peritoneum, 
 which is connected with the liver. Its arteries and 
 nerves have already been noticed in their respective ta- 
 bles. 
 
 Having now described the contents of the chest, we 
 must consider the nature and disposition of the mem- 
 brane that lines the interior of this cavity, and, invclopes 
 the organs of respiration and circulation within its 
 doublings. This membrane is called filewa, and con- 
 sists chiefly of two close bags, one on each side of the 
 chest, united at the sternum. Hence it is generally 
 considered as double, and the two bags which it forms 
 are called the two fi/curx. The whole may, however, 
 be described as one membrane, forming various doub- 
 lings. In its texture it is cellular on that surface which 
 is next the ribs, and the contents of the chest, but 
 smooth and polished towards the interior of that cavity. 
 It is firm, dense, and elastic, and more or less trans- 
 parent. Its central surface is moistened by a serous 
 fluid which continually ooses from openings wiiich are 
 considered as the mouth of exhalant arteries. 
 
 To form a correct idea of the manner in which the 
 pleura is reflected over the different contents of the 
 chest, for the purpose of giving to them a peripheral 
 coat, and connecting them with each other, it will be 
 useful to trace the disposition of this membrane as we 
 have done with the pituitary membrane of the nose, 
 from a certain fixed point, which we shall suppose to be 
 one side of the sternum. Passing from the side of the 
 sternum, the pleura proceeds over the concave surface 
 of the ribs, which it completely invests, but is separated 
 from the intercostal muscles by cellular substance, and 
 by the vessels and nerves that are distributed through 
 the intercostal spaces. It also covers the convex sur- 
 face of the diaphragm, and passing from this surface., 
 
 and from that of the ribs, it proceeds to the bodies of 
 the dorsal vertebrae, forming at the atlantal part of the 
 chest, a close cavity for lodging the smaller extremity 
 of the lungs. Towards the heads of the ribs it covers 
 the nervous ganglions that belong to the chest, and the 
 branches to which tin y give origin. It is separated from 
 tlie bodies of the vertebrae by a considerable quantity of 
 fat. Arrived at the vertebral column, the pleura of one 
 side approaches that of the other, wliich has proceeded 
 in a similar direction and between them is formed that 
 cavity which has been called the posterior mediastinum. 
 Through this passes the gullet tlie descending aorta, 
 the thoracic duct, kc. inveloped in cellular substance, 
 which entirely fills this space. Proceeding towards 
 the sternum, it approaches the heart, and the great ves- 
 sels that arise from, and terminate in, that organ. Here 
 it may be conceived either to form the whole of the 
 pericardium, or to invest that membrane with a peri- 
 pheral coat, by whicli it connects it with the diaphragm. 
 Leaving the pericadium at the roots of the pulmonary 
 vessels, it passes over, we shall suppose, the mesial, dor- 
 sal, lateral, and sternal sides of each lobe of the lungs, 
 till it reaches the side of the pulmonary vessels and 
 pericardium, opposite to that from which we supposed 
 it to be last reflected. It hence passes to the inner sur- 
 face of the sternum, to the point from which we first 
 set out, having formed in this sternal part, the anterior 
 mediastinum. 
 
 Hence we see that the mediastinum is properly a 
 double partition, formed of two plaits united at the 
 sternum, and diverging from each other as they pro- 
 ceed towards the vertebrae. This divergence is most 
 remarkable at the sacral part of the chest, where the 
 heart is lodged. The sternal or angular part of the 
 mediastinum is connected to the sternum in such a 
 manner as to divide this bone into two unequal portions. 
 Supposing it to commence on the atlantal part of the 
 sternum, it is there' fixed near the articulation of the 
 cartilages of the right ribs with the right side of the 
 sternum. Hence it descends obliquely sacrad, till it 
 approaches the articulation of the left cartilages of the 
 ribs. This disposition of the sternal mediastinum affords 
 a useful hint to surgeons in those cases where it is re- 
 quired to perforate the sternum, for the pur[X)se Of 
 making an opening into one side of the cavity of the 
 chest. If the opening is to be made into the right side, 
 we find, from the disposition of the mediastinum, that 
 the perforation must be made in the sacral part of the 
 sternum, near the cnsiform cartilage, but on the left 
 side a perforation of the sternum will scarcely be of 
 advantage, as, in order to make an opening into the 
 left cavity, it would be necessary to perform the opera- 
 tion near the atlantal extremity of the sacrum. 
 
 The pleura receives arterial branches from all the 
 principal arteries of the neighbouring parts. Its nerves 
 are small, and not easily distinguished. They are 
 chiefly derived from the great sympathetic and phrenic 
 nerves. In its sound state this membrane possesses 
 little sensibility, but when inflamed, it is extremely sen- 
 sible. 
 
 In enumerating the organs of respiration, we must 
 not omit the muscles that arc employed in dilating or 
 contracting the cavity of the chest, as on the action of 
 these muscles inspiration and expiration immediately 
 depend. In the general table of muscles we have enu- 
 merated those of respiration, in the order according to 
 which they most naturally present tliemselves in dissec-
 
 806 
 
 ANATO^MY. 
 
 tion ; but iimay be proper, in this chapter to brinjj Ihcm ployed in drawing down the ribs, and thereby contracting 
 together, uiid to distinguish those which contribute to tliat cuvily. We shall contrast them with each other in 
 the dilatation of the thorax, from those which are cm- the following tabic : 
 
 DILATING MUSCLES. 
 
 Intcrcostiilcs, 
 Su/iracosfa/fs, 
 IvfracontaleH-, 
 Diafihragm, 
 Assisted occasionally by the 
 Sternomasioidci, 
 Scatefii, 
 
 Serrati fiostici sufieriores, 
 Scrrati anfici, 
 Serrati magni, 
 Subclavii, 
 Pcclorales, 
 l^alissimi dorsi, 
 Cervicalrs dfscendentes, 
 Accessorii ad sacrohunbales. 
 
 The varieties that occur in the organs of respiration, 
 are not very considerable or important, except as they 
 respect the state of the lungs in the foetus, and the pre- 
 sence of a particular gland in the foetus, which is not 
 found in the adult state. 
 
 Before birth, the lungs are much smaller, firmer, 
 and of a much darker colour than after respiration 
 has commenced. They are also of greater specific 
 gravity, and sink in water, except when in a state of 
 putrefaction. 
 
 In the foetus there is found a large glandular body, 
 called the thymus gland, situated in the atlantal and 
 sternal part of the chest, between the two plaits of the 
 sternal mediastinum. It covers the atlantal part of the 
 pericardium, and that part of the arch of the aorta from 
 vliich arise the carotid and subclavian arteries. From 
 this part it rises considerably, so as to occupy a part of 
 the neck. It has four considerable processes ; two cal- 
 led its lobes, next the pericardium, which are broad ; 
 and two long and narrow processes called its horns, run- 
 ning up the neck. This substance is of a pale red co- 
 lour, though it becomes of a darker hue after birth. 
 Its internal structiu'e has not been accurately exami- 
 ned. It commonly contains a whitish liquor, but ap- 
 pears to have no excretory duct, by which that liquor 
 can be conveyed to any particular part. By Haller and 
 some other anatomists it is considered as a lymphatic 
 gland, and some have supposed it to be connected with 
 the nutrition of the foetus. It has numerous blood-ves- 
 sels froiTi the subclavian and internal mammary arteries ; 
 nerves froin the great sympathetics and/jnr To^-zim, and 
 several lymphatics have been traced passing from it to 
 the thoracic duct. 
 
 Sect. II. Of the Organs of Voice. 
 
 The organs suliservient to those modifications of re- 
 spiration which we call voice, and speech, are in man 
 more complex than in most animals. They consist chiefly 
 of the larvnx, the tongue, and the lips, with the mus- 
 cles and membranes, assisted occasionally in the articu- 
 lations of speech by the teeth and the palate. Most of 
 these organs have been already noticed, as connected 
 with the functions of sensation and digestion. It remains 
 for us here to describe the laiynx, and enumerate the 
 
 COXTRACTINX MUSCLES. 
 
 Triangulares sterni, 
 Ob/irjui externi addotninis, 
 Ohliijui interni abdominis, 
 Trani,versi abdominis. 
 Recti abdominis, 
 Pyramidales, 
 Assisted occasionally by the 
 Strrati fiostici inferiores, 
 Longissimi dorsi, 
 Sacrolumbales, 
 Quadrati tumborum, 
 
 Serrati magni. See Barclay on Muscular 
 Motion, p. 515. 
 
 muscles employed in producing the varieties so remark- 
 able in the human voice. 
 
 The larynx is a cavity composed of several moveable 
 pieces, joined to the atlantal extremity of the windpipe, 
 and situated in the atlantal and sternal part of the neck. 
 Its general form is not easily described, but in its struc- 
 ture it is perfectly regular and symmetrical, being placed 
 exactly in the mesial line, and having each of its lateral 
 divisions equal and similar. From this regularity of 
 structure, it forms a complete contrast with the wind- 
 pipe, the form of which is very irregular. The larynx 
 must be considered almost entirely an organ of voice; 
 for though the air passes through it in respiration, a 
 much more simple orifice would be sufficient for the 
 purposes of breathing, as appears in those cases where 
 the opening of the larynx, called glottis, is obstructed, 
 and where breathing maybe carried on through an arti- 
 ficial aperture made in the wind-pipe below the laiynx. 
 
 The larynx is composed of several cartilages that are 
 moveable on each other, and connected with membranes 
 that are susceptible of considerable variations in relative 
 position. Views of the larynx and its principal appen- 
 dages, are given in Plate XIV. Figs. 5 and 6, to which 
 the references in the following description correspond. 
 
 That cartilage in the larynx which lies immediately 
 next the windpipe, resembles a ring with its protuber- 
 ance on the sternal part of the neck, where it may easily 
 be felt below the sharp ridge. This is called the cricoid 
 or annular cartilage, see Fig. 6. It constitutes the most 
 solid part of the larynx, and forms the sacral boundaiy 
 of that cavity. On the dorsal side next the gullet, it is 
 considerably enlarged, nearly of a quadrilateral foiTn, 
 with a projecting angle in the mesial line. Its central 
 surface is concave, narrow on the sternal, and broad on 
 the dorsal aspect. At its atlantal part there is a broad 
 and roundish sloping surface, for the attachment of 
 membranes. On its sacral surface it presents a waving 
 appearance, being convex sternad and dorsad, and a lit- 
 tle concave in the middle of each side. It is connected 
 to the most atlantal ring of the windpipe, on the dorsal 
 aspect, by a fibrous membrane, similar to those which 
 connect the rings of the windpipe to each other. 
 
 Above the cricoid cartilage, is another, composed of 
 two broad, lateral portions, obliquely angular, witli seve- 
 ral projecting processes, uniting at their sternal edges,
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 807 
 
 so as to forni a sharp ridge, a little above tlie sternal pro- 
 tuberance ol' the cricoid cartilage. This angular ridge 
 may be readily felt in the lore pait of the neck, a litlle 
 below the chin, ami forms whai. iias been called /io/««/« 
 iidaini, or Adam's apple. See Adami lujmiua. This is 
 called the thyroid or scutiform cartilage, because it pro- 
 tects ihe sternal and lateral parts of the laryngeal ca\ity 
 as with a siiield. A perspective view of it is given at 
 B b, A, Fig. 5. Considered as one piece, it has a cleft 
 imiiiediately above the sternal projecting angle, from 
 which it proceeds laterally in a vyaving direction, till it 
 terminates in its most atlantal part on each side, in a long 
 narrow process. These two processes are called the 
 horns of the tliyroid cartilage, and are connected by 
 ligament (6, a,) to the horns of the us hyoidfs. Two short 
 processes extend from the dorsal edge sucruil, and are 
 connected by ligaments and muscles to the cricoid carti- 
 lage. Considered on its central surface, the thyroid 
 cartilage presents an angular hollow, corresponding to 
 its sternal ridge. Immediately within the angle are fixed 
 the principal ligaments of the glottis, and the muscles 
 that connect this cartilage with those which we are about 
 to describe. On the central surface of its lateral parts 
 there is a quantity of fat, separating them from the 
 neighbouring muscles and ligaments. 
 
 Attached to the atlantal and lateral parts, towards the 
 dorsal side of the cricoid cartilage, are two other carti- 
 lages of a triangular form, broadest at their attachment 
 to the cricoid, obtusely pointed at their atlantal extremi- 
 ties, which approach each other, and are bent obliquely 
 backwards, so as to make the dorsal side of each cartilage 
 hollow, while the sternal side is rounded. These carti- 
 lages are called arytenoid. Their pointed extremities 
 are called their horns, and the whole cartilages are so 
 connected to each other, by membranes and muscles, as 
 to be susceptible of considerable separation or approxi- 
 mation. They are also connected with the neighbour- 
 ing cartilages by muscles and ligaments. 
 
 The epiglottis, or that oval convexo-concave cartilage, 
 which is attached to the root of the tongue, may be con- 
 sidered as belonging to the larynx, as during deglutition 
 it is pushed back over the aperture into this cavity, so as 
 to prevent the food or drink from entering the windpipe. 
 See Figs. 5, and 6. E. The concave surface of the epi- 
 glottis is next the aperture of the larynx; while its con- 
 vex surface, in its natural position, as represented in 
 Fig. 5. points to the palate. It is connected with the 
 atlantal part of the thyroid cartilage, being fixed in its 
 middle notch by a broad short ligament. It is also con- 
 nected with the arytenoid cartilages by two lateral liga- 
 ments, and is fixed to the os /iiioidrs and tongue by a 
 membrane called its frenum or bridle. 
 
 All these cartilages are thick and solid, extremely 
 elastic, not oi a shining appearance, like the cartilages 
 that are attached to the articulating surfaces of the bones, 
 but of a dull grayish colour. The epiglottis differs from 
 the rest in being partly of a fibrous, and partly of a carti- 
 laginous texture, and in being rather more pliable than 
 the other cartilages. 
 
 Besides the membranes that connect the several carti- 
 lages of the larynx with each other, and with the neigh- 
 bouring parts, the peripheral surface of this organ is 
 covered with a fibrous membrane, resembling the perios- 
 teum. On its central surface it is also invested with a 
 membrane that is reflected into various bands and dou- 
 blings, that form some of the principal parts of the or- 
 gans of voice. Two of these reflected membranes, in 
 
 the form of fibrous bands, run from the side of each of 
 the arytenoid cartilages to the internal angle of the thy- 
 roid cartilages, where they meet each other, leaving, 
 next the aryiciKjids, a space wliich, by the motion of 
 these latter cartilages, admits ol an almost infinite varie- 
 ty of contractions and dilatations. Tlie opening between 
 these two membranous bands is usually called the glottis, 
 or chink of the glottis [liiiiti gluiiidis.) Sacrad of these 
 bands there are two other ligamentous membranes, aris- 
 ing from the roots of the arytenoid cartilages, and also 
 attached before to the thyroid cartilage. These are 
 larger, and usually more distinct than the former, and 
 are generally called the proper ligaments of the glottis. 
 Between the upper and lower ligaments on each side, 
 there is a reflection from the inner membrane of the 
 larynx, forming a small cavity, communicating with the 
 central part of the larynx by a fissure. These lateral 
 membranous cavities are called the ventricles of the 
 glottis. Though we have described these membranes 
 as distinct froiu each other, they may pro[)erly be consi- 
 dered as continuations of the general investing mem- 
 brane of the larynx, reflected in different directions, so 
 as to produce bands and cavities. The investing mem- 
 brane is furnished with numerous mucous glands, which 
 secrete the fluid with which the whole interior cavity is 
 moistened. Among these glands, two are more conspi- 
 cuous than the rest, and are situated in small depres- 
 sions at the roots of the arytenoid cartilages. They arc 
 hence called arytenoid glands, and appear to have been 
 first discovered and described by Morgagni. Another 
 glandular body is placed at the root of the epiglottis, and 
 appears to secrete a fatty matter. 
 
 The larynx is furnished with four principal arteries, 
 called laryngeals ; two coming from the external caro- 
 tids, and two from the subclavian arteries. Its nerves 
 are derived chiefly from the par vagum. 
 
 The larynx is much larger in men than in women, 
 nearly in the proportion of two to one ; and the angular 
 projection is much flatter in the female sex, while the 
 atlantal cleft is more superficial. These diflerences be- 
 tween the larynx of the male and that of the female, 
 either are not observed, or are much less evident in the 
 foetus, and in early childhood. They do not sensibly take 
 place till towards puberty. It is at this time that the 
 larynx of the male sex begins to acquire its proper size 
 and prominence ; and at this period, too, as is well known, 
 the voice becomes full and manly. In old age, the car- 
 tilages of the larynx usually become ossified, whence 
 they are less elastic, and the membranes are not so move- 
 able as in the earlier periods of life. 
 
 The muscles that serve to regulate and modify the 
 human voice are numerous, consisting not merely of 
 those that are attached to the larynx and the tongue, but 
 comprehending almost all those which are connected 
 with the 0.1 /njoidcs or the lips. They must be enume- 
 rated as follows : 
 
 1. Eight pairs proper to the five cartilages of the 
 larynx, viz. 
 
 Cricothyroide!, 
 Cricoarylenoidei fiostici, 
 Cricoary ten oidei laterales, 
 Tliyreoarytcnoidci, 
 .irytenoidei obtii/ui, 
 Aryteiioidei transversi, 
 T/iyreoeJngloltidti, 
 Anjtenoepiglottidei ;
 
 808 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 2. Fifteen pairs that arc attached to the cartilages of 
 ■the larynx or os hyoides, viz. 
 
 Sterno/iijoidei, 
 
 Omohijoidei, 
 
 Stcriiothyroidci, 
 
 Thyrohyoidei, 
 
 Stylo/iyuidei, 
 
 H'lylo/iyciidci, 
 
 Gt'nio/njoidei, 
 
 Bivcntres MaxilLt, 
 
 Gcniofiyoglossi, 
 
 Stylo/i/iaryngci, 
 
 Pa la I Qji liaryngeif 
 
 Cricofiliurijngeit 
 
 Thyropharyngd^ 
 
 Syndtsmofiharyngeif 
 
 I^Iylofiharyngei. 
 
 3. Three pairs that assist in raising the os hyoides by 
 fixing the lower jaw, viz. 
 
 Temporal muscles, 
 Masseter muscles. 
 Internal pterygoids. 
 
 4. Several of the general muscles of respiration, es- 
 pecially 
 
 The Diaphragm, 
 
 Intercostal muscles, 
 
 Abdominal muscles. See Barclay's 
 
 Ajiat. .Yomenclal. p. 70. 
 
 A great variety of morbid appearances has been ob- 
 served in the organs of respiration, and the cavity in 
 which they are contained; and these merit particular 
 notice, as from them we derive much useful information 
 respecting the scats and causes of some of the most 
 distressing afflictions to which the human frame is sub- 
 ject. We shall begin with the morbid appearances that 
 are usually observed within the cavity of the chest, and 
 about its investing membrane. The fluid that naturally 
 oozes into the chest from the central surface of the 
 pleura, is often unusually increased in quantity, forming 
 dropsy of the chest, ov hydrothorax. Purulent matter is 
 also occasionally found accumulated in this cavity, con- 
 stituting the disease called empyema. The pleura is 
 very frequently seen in a state of inflammation, and in 
 these cases, adhesions, more or less extensive, are found 
 to have taken place between the pleura that lines the 
 ribs, and that which covers the lungs. These adhesions 
 are exceedingly common, and are always a mark of pre- 
 ceding inflammation. In a few cases, some portion of 
 the pleura appears in a bony state, or ossified, and some- 
 times it is found preternaturally dry. 
 
 The lungs are very commonly observed afifected with 
 inflammation or its consequences. Very often they are 
 seen extremely red and firm, and their vessels turgid 
 v.ith blood. Frequently ulcers are seen to have been 
 formed in some part of the substance of the lungs. 
 These are called vomica, and are sometimes confined 
 within a close cavity, while at others they communicate 
 with the windpipe, or with the cavity of the chest. Nu- 
 merous instances occur where the lungs contain a 
 number of roundish firm white bodies, interposed 
 through their substance. These are called tubercles, 
 and arc situated chiefly in the cellular substance that 
 connects the air-cells. These tubercles are generally 
 about the size of a small pea, though their magnitude 
 v; rics considerably, and often they are not larger than 
 suiall pins' heads. They are sometimes separate from 
 
 each other, but more frequently they appear in clusters. 
 They arc often seen in a state of ulceration, containing a 
 thick cui-dled /ii/«. Sometimes water is found accumu- 
 lated in the substance of the lungs, forming a peculiar 
 modification of hydrothorax. The air-cells have been 
 seen morbidly enlai-gcd, and sometimes ruptured, so that 
 a number ol them are formed into one cavuy. In a few 
 rare cases, a portion ot the hmgs has been found ossi- 
 fied, and more freciucntly earthy concretions are met 
 with in their substance. Scrofulous tumours have been 
 seen attached to the Jungs, and hydatids are not un- 
 frequcntly found about the lungs or the bronchi. 
 
 The cartilaginous rings composing the sternal part of 
 the windpipe, are sometimes seen ossified, and the wliole 
 tube has been observed contracted in its diameter, and 
 thickened in its substance. The fibrous membrane that 
 covers the peripheral surface of the windpipe, is often 
 seen inflamed, especially next the gullet. But morbid 
 appearances are more frequent in its central membrane, 
 which is not uncommonly more or less inflamed, and is 
 sometimes lined with a layer of a yellowish pulpy mat- 
 ter, that may be easily separated from the membrane. 
 This is the appearance so commonly described in the 
 disease called croup. This layer of adventitious matter 
 sometimes fonns a complete cylinder of considerable 
 thickness, but in other cases parts of it appear to have 
 been separated from the membrane, and spit up by 
 coughing. 
 
 The morbid appearances of the larynx resemble those 
 of the rest of the windpipe, being chiefly ossification of 
 its cartilages, and inflammation or ulceration of its mem- 
 branes or muscles. 
 
 Various morbid appearances have been observed in 
 the thyroid gland. It is sometimes scirrhous and lea- 
 ther enlarged, and it has been seen in a state of ossifica- 
 tion. In a few cases it is affected with common inflam- 
 mation ; but the morbid appearance most frequent in the 
 thyroid gland, especially in some particular countries 
 and districts, is that peculiar swelling which forms the 
 characteristic of the disease called bnnc/iocele or goitre, 
 so common among the peasants of Savoy. It is then 
 seen of a cellular texture, and containing a transparent 
 viscid fluid. 
 
 On the structure of organs of respiration and voice, 
 See Winslow's Traite d Anatomie; Portal's Anatomie 
 Medicale; Dumas' Principles de P/iysiohgie, tome iii. ; 
 Bichat's Anatomie Descri/iiive, tomes ii. and iv. ; Bell's 
 Anatomy, vol. xiv. ; and Fyfe's Com/iendium oj' Anatomy, 
 vol. ii. 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 Of the Organs of Secretion and Excretion. 
 
 In the course of this article we have repeatedly 
 had occasion to notice several of those organs which 
 either mediately or immediately separate from the ge- 
 neral mass of blood ; those fluids that either answer 
 some useful purposes in the animal economy, or which 
 are destined to be thrown from the system as excremen- 
 titious. These are the organs of secretion and excretion. 
 In general, the organs of secretion separate the useful 
 fluids, while those of excretion separate or prepare 
 those which may be considered as excrcmentitious. 
 This general notion of the secretory and excretory or- 
 gans must not, however, be carried to far ; for, as our 
 knowledge of the animal economy is not so complete as 
 to enable us to decide, with certainty, what fluids are
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 809 
 
 beneficial, and what injurious or cxcrcmentldous, wc 
 cannot with certainty decide how fur some oi" the organs 
 belong exclusively to the one function or the other, or 
 whether some of them may not be considered as belong- 
 ing to both. 
 
 The organs of secretion and excretion, difl'er consider- 
 ably from each other, with respect to the simplicity of 
 their structure. Some of them appear only to separate 
 from the blood matters that are already formed in that 
 fluid ; such are the serous membranes that line tlie close 
 cavities of the body, and perhaps the cellular membrane 
 that forms the general connecting medium of the whole 
 structure. These are the simplest in their organization, 
 consisting of little more than secreting surfaces, provi- 
 ded with exhalant vessels. A second class separate 
 from the blood certain fluids, which, though not exactly 
 the same as what arc found in the blood, have undergone 
 very little change. To this class belong the synovial 
 
 membranes that are attached to the articulations of the 
 bones, and the mucous membranes that line what may 
 be called the open cavities of the body. The former of 
 tlicse differ little, cither in structure or immediate 
 fimction, from the serous membranes ; but the latter 
 arc both more complex in their organization, as having 
 attached to them an apparatus of glands resembling 
 those of the next class ; and they are more important in 
 their functions. The third class consists of those organs 
 which completely alter the fluids that circulate through 
 them, and prepare nuuters t!iat either are not found at 
 all witlihi the blood-vessels, or are contained tiiere in 
 very difl'crent proportions. To this class belong the nu- 
 merous glandular bodies, such as the liver, the kidneys, 
 the testes, the breasts in women. Sec. 
 
 If these general remarks be correct, wc may arrange 
 the principal secreting and excreting organs under a 
 comprehensive view, as in the following tabic. 
 
 TABLE OF SECRETING AND EXCRETING ORGANS. 
 
 I. SECRETING SURFACES. 
 
 1 
 
 >> 
 
 
 o 
 in 
 
 -§ 
 
 
 
 O 
 
 
 nS 
 
 U 
 
 
 JS 
 
 rt 
 
 ■V 
 
 *■• 
 
 
 o 
 
 CO 
 
 « 
 
 3 
 
 o 
 
 (U 
 
 
 ,rt 
 
 w 
 
 o 
 
 ^ 
 
 4-> 
 
 
 3 
 
 s 
 
 
 (A 
 
 .s 
 
 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 T3 
 
 *■*-» 
 
 
 E 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 Ciii 1 
 
 u 
 
 
 
 en 
 
 
 ' 
 
 Organs. 
 Serous membuanes. 
 
 Cellular membranes- 
 
 Where /bund. Fluids. 
 
 Within the skull, constituting the arachnoid Serum, or coagula- 
 coat of the brain ; in the chest, the filcura ; ble lymjih. 
 
 in the belly, the peritoneum ; covering the 
 brain, the lungs, the heart, the stomach and 
 intestines, the liver, the spleen, part of the 
 urinary bladder, and the testes. 
 
 Throughout every part of the system, forming Serurn cind/al. 
 a general organ both of connection and se- 
 paration. 
 
 SPri fSYNOVlAL MEMBRAKES. 
 
 cQ ;_ 
 
 o 
 
 i2 s 
 
 - o 
 
 •3 g- 
 
 s S 2 
 
 ■Ji 
 
 Mucous MEMBRANES. 
 
 Attached to all the articulations forming the 
 capsular ligaments and mucous bags of the 
 joints. 
 
 In the eye, the nose, and contiguous cavities, 
 forming the conjunctiva and pituitary mem- 
 brane ; lining the larynx, windpipe, and 
 bronchi ; lining the whole alimentary canal, 
 comprehending the mouth, phaiynx, the 
 gullet, stomach, and intestines ; lining all the 
 excretory ducts proceeding from tlie gtefids ; 
 lining the whole urinary passages, compre- 
 hending the ureters, bladder,and the urethra; 
 and in women lining the vagina and uterus. 
 
 Sijnox'ia. 
 
 Mucus. 
 
 bo 
 
 Skin- 
 
 S 5 
 
 Between the cuticle B.ndrete m«ro«!««, forming Matter of /lers/iira- 
 the third layer of the integuments. don. 
 
 Vol. I. Part II 
 
 5 K
 
 a 10 
 
 ANVTOMY. 
 
 II. SECRETING GLANDS. 
 
 Organn. 
 
 Ulicrc frjund. 
 
 I'luide. 
 
 £ i 
 
 o 
 
 ■a 
 
 C3 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 a 
 
 
 
 Vk 
 
 
 
 "3 
 
 
 
 eft 
 
 
 
 C 
 
 
 < 
 
 b/3 
 
 
 
 O 
 
 n 
 o 
 
 
 OJ 
 
 
 
 ■s 
 
 
 
 ■5 
 
 c 
 60 
 O 
 U 
 
 -C 
 
 •3 
 
 ■a 
 c 
 
 p 
 
 
 -a 
 c 
 
 
 Lenticular or capitated v\- 
 pillak of the tongue. 
 
 Ceuuminous GLAXDS. 
 
 Lachrymal glands. 
 See Plate XXII. 
 . Fig. 7. B. 
 
 Parotid glands. 
 
 See Plate XXI. Fig. 1. No. 33 
 
 34. 
 
 Submaxillary glands. 
 
 See Plate XXI. Fig. 1. No. 52. 
 
 Sublingual glands. 
 
 Pancheas. 
 
 See Plate XIX. Fig. 10. 
 
 Spleen. 
 
 See Plate XIX. Fig. 9, 10. 
 
 Liver. 
 
 See Plate XIX. Fig. 9, 10, 11. 
 
 Testes. 
 
 Prostate gland. 
 
 The breasts in women. 
 
 Near the base of the tongue, forming an angu- A watery Jluid. 
 
 lar assemblage. 
 
 Round the external auditory passage. 
 
 In the coronal and mesial part of the orbit. 
 
 Ccru7ncii or ivav of 
 the ear. 
 
 The team. 
 
 Between the car, the mastoid process of the' 
 temporal bone, and the angle of the lower 
 jaw. 
 
 On the inside of the mouth, between the angle 
 
 of the lower jaw and the tendon of the bi- \>Saliva, 
 venter maxilla; muscle. 
 
 Between the lower jaw, next the chin, and the 
 basilar surface of the tongue. 
 
 In the epigastric region of the belly, between Pancreatic juice, «/- 
 the stomach and spine. milar to saliva. 
 
 In the left hypochondriac region, between the 
 large extremity of the stomach and false ribs. 
 
 In the atlantal part of the belly, between the Bile. 
 
 diaphragm and the stomach. 
 
 In the scrotum. Se initial Jluid. 
 
 Round the neck of the bladder in men. Prostatic Jluid. 
 
 Between the skin and pectoral muscles. Milk. 
 
 
 "Kidneys. 
 
 See Plate XIX. Fit?. 10. 
 
 -□ . <J Renal glands, OR atrabiliary 
 
 "" CAPSULES. 
 
 a) .- o 
 
 S 2 G 
 
 In the dorsal part of the belly, behind the peri- Urine. 
 toncum, near the spine, and between the 
 eleventh rib and the hip bones 
 
 At the atlantal, sternal, and mesial part of each A blackishjlukl. 
 kidney. 
 
 Several of these seci'eting organs have been already described; the remainder will be considered in the subse- 
 quent part of this chapter. 
 
 Sect. I.»— 0/ Secreting J\Iembi'a?ieg. 
 
 We have already given an account of two of the ge- 
 »neral secreting membranes, viz. the cellular membrane, 
 in the introduction to this part of our article, and of the 
 synovial membranes in Chap. I. when treating of the 
 joints. We have also briefly described several of the 
 serous and mucous membranes, as connected with the 
 
 cavities that have been considered in the preceding 
 chapters ; but we shall here give a general view of the 
 serous and mucous membranes, considered as two of 
 those important textures that enter into the composi- 
 tion of the animal body. In this view we shall follow 
 the Anatomic Generalc of Bichat, as almost the only work 
 that contains a systematic and general account of these 
 component textures. We shall, however, so far depart
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 811 
 
 from his arrangerrtcnt as to consider the serous mem- 
 branes bcl'orc the mucous, couceiviiig the I'ormer as 
 the more simple in their su'ucLurc and lunttions. 
 
 The serous membranes are so denominated by Bi- 
 chat, from the serous fluid which bedews their central 
 suriace. These membranes occupy the central surface 
 of two of the great cavities, viz. the chest, and the belly, 
 and they mveiope the peripheral suriace of several of 
 the most important vital organs, as the brain, lungs, the 
 heart, tlic stomach, and inteslhies; the liver. Sec. Hence 
 there are three principal serous membranes, the arach- 
 noid loat of the brain, the pleura, and the /wtiloncum, 
 each iormUig a distinct bag, that is close, or has no di- 
 rect communication with the surface of the body. They, 
 however, in some measure communicate with each 
 otner, viz. the pleura with the peritoneum, through the 
 openings of llie diaphragm ; and in one instance they 
 communicate with a mucous membrane, as the perito- 
 neum wiih the mucous membrane lining the uterus 
 through the medium of the Fallopian tubes. 
 
 The serous inembranes have two surfaces, the one 
 attached to the sides ol the cavities in wliich they are 
 found, but not in general adhering to it very closely ; 
 the other free, looking towards the cavities and forming 
 more peculiarly the secreting surface. These mem- 
 branes, however, are composed of a single layer, which 
 difl'ers considerably in thickness in various parts, being 
 of a very sensible thickness, when inveloping the liver, 
 the heart, or the intestines ; but remarkably thin in the 
 arachnoid coat of the brain, and that part of the perito- 
 neum which forms the omentum. They arc of a whitish 
 colour, and a shining appearance, but not so resplendent 
 as the fibrous membranes that constitute the ligaments 
 and tendons. Examined more mhiutely, they appear to 
 be of a cellular structure, and are furnished with exha- 
 lants, absorbents, blood-vessels, and nerves. They are 
 capable of considerable dilatation, provided this take 
 place in a gradual manner; as in their natural state they 
 are not easily extended. They are possessed of a small 
 degree of contractibility ; are not very elastic, nor in 
 their natural state, very sensible. 
 
 The inucous membranes, which have also received 
 their name from the nature of the fluid which they se- 
 crete, are more generally diffused through the system 
 than the serous membranes, not only lining the central 
 cavities of most of those organs which are inveloped by 
 the serous membranes, but also several which have lit- 
 tle or no connection with those membranes, such as the 
 cornea and the eye-lids ; the lachrymal ducts, nostrils, 
 the pharynx and gullet; the eustachian tubes, the ure- 
 ters, the urethra, the vagina and uterus. It will be 
 seen that they differ from the serous membranes in in- 
 vesting all those cavities that immediately communicate 
 with the surface of the body, and through it with the 
 external air. These membranes are divided by Bichat 
 into two general orders, one consisting of those which 
 invest the bronchial passages and the alimentary canal, 
 which he calls gastro-Jiulnwnary mwcoviS membranes; 
 and those which invest the interior of the genital and 
 urinary organs, he calls gcnito-urinary mucous mem- 
 branes. These two general mucous membranes have 
 no immediate communication, but they resemble each 
 other in their structure and properties. 
 
 The mucous, like the serous membranes, have two 
 surfaces, one attached to the muscular coat of the or- 
 
 gans which they invest, and the other free, moistened 
 with the mucous secretion, and generally formed into 
 various plaits!" or folds. Considered in their intimate 
 structure, the mucous membranes are composed of two 
 principal layers, one wliich is analogous to the substance 
 of the skin, which we have called corion, and another 
 similar to the papillary or villous surface of the skin. 
 The corion of the mucous memljranes is in general ol 
 considerable thickness, of a spongy texture, and of a 
 very soft consistence. The papillary suriace, like that 
 of the skin, seems to originate from tlie extremities of 
 nerves, and is possessed of consideraljle sensibility. 
 These membranes, besides possessing blood-vessels, 
 cxhalants, aljsorbents and nerves, like the serous mem- 
 branes, are furnished with numerous glands, situated 
 either within the substance of the corion, or between 
 this and the muscular coat which it invests, and com- 
 municating with the papillary surface by numerous ducts 
 or openings. 
 
 The mucous membranes do not possess so much ex- 
 tensibility and contractibility as the numerous folds of 
 their papillary surface wowld lead us to suppose, but in 
 certain cases we find them capable of considerable dila- 
 tation. This is particularly observable in the ureters 
 and biliary ducts, which arc someiiines exceedingly en- 
 larged by the passage of calculi throuerh them. 
 
 The secreting surfaces above described are extremely 
 subject to inflammatory affections, but these affections 
 are marked in each by distinct and peculiar characters, 
 which appear to have been first accurately distinguish- 
 ed by Pincl, in his .A''osogra/i/ue J'/iiloso/i/iiijuc, tom. i. 
 The inflammation of serous, or what Pinel calls the 
 diaphanous membranes,* are characterized by acute 
 pain, quick and hard pulse, and in general by a greater 
 reaction of the vascular system; and the inflamed mem- 
 branes have their blood-vessels greatly distended, and 
 their surface remarkably red. In the inflammation of 
 the mucous membranes there is less pain, less reaction 
 of the vascular system, and the affections are charac- 
 terized at their commencement, chiefly by the great in- 
 crease of mucous secretion. 
 
 Among the general secreting and excreting surfaces, 
 we must not omit the skin, as this integument perfonns 
 an office, viz. that of transpiration or perspiration, which 
 has always been considered of great importance. The 
 skin is well furnished with cxlialing vessels, which 
 pour out through its numerous pores the matter of per- 
 spiration. 
 
 The matter transpired during insensible perspiration, 
 seems to diff'cr little from that fluid which wc call sweat. 
 Both consist chiefly of water, holding in solution carbo- 
 nic acid, and probably some other acid, and having mix- 
 ed with it a peculiar oily matter. Sweat has evidently 
 a salt taste, and perhaps a little muriate of soda. Sec 
 Chemistry and Physiology. 
 
 Sect. II. — Of Secreting Glands. 
 
 The name Gland has been given to a great variety 
 of organs that differ from cacli other in form, structure, 
 situation, and functions. We have already seen it ap- 
 plied to certain protuberances of the encephalon, as trie 
 pineal and Jiituitanj glands, to those roundish bodies 
 which belong to the absorbent system, which are called 
 ly?n/i/iafic, and sometimes conglobate glands; and to sc- 
 
 Under the diaphanous membranes Pinel includes the dura mater, which Bichat places among tlie fibrous membranes. 
 
 5 JtL 2
 
 312 
 
 AN\T03IY. 
 
 vc-ral bodies the use of which has not been ascertained, 
 as the lliyroid, ihe lliyinus gland, S^c. IJichut is lor re- 
 stiicling the leini to those bodies which separate parti- 
 cular lluids from the blood by means of one or more 
 duclB or canals. Under this head he arranges the sa- 
 livary glands, the lachrymal glands, the glands of Mei- 
 bomius, the tonsils, the ceruminous glai'ds of the ear, 
 the breasts in women, the liver, the pancreas, the kid- 
 neys, the prostate gland, the testes, and the innumera- 
 ble mucous glands that accompany the mucous mem- 
 branes. All these are properly secreting glands, and 
 they have been called conglomerate, to distinguish them 
 from the lymphatic glands. We have ventured, in the 
 preceding table, to introduce the spleen among the 
 glands, as it is now proved that it is analogous to the 
 kidneys in its office. 
 
 Some of the secreting glands are superficial, as the 
 breast and the salivary glands, but the gi eater number 
 are deeply seat.d withui the principal cavities of the 
 body. Scvera: of them are single, as the liver, pancreas, 
 &;c. but in general they appear in pairs, those of each 
 pair resembling each other in form, structure, and situ- 
 ation, but not always in size. 
 
 Glands differ in their Ultimate structure from most 
 other organs of the body, in having nothing of the fi- 
 brous texture. Their component parts form an aggre- 
 gated mass, connected by cellular membrane, and adhe- 
 ring but loosely to each other. Sometimes they are 
 composed of insulated lobes, separated from each other 
 to a considerable distance, by the intermediate cellular 
 membrane ; sometimes the glandular grains are equally 
 and regularly arranged, and placed very near each 
 other, and in a few cases their texture is uniformly 
 pulpy, without any appearance of lobes or granulations. 
 Ruysch appears to have proved by minute injections, 
 that the internal substance of the secreting glands is 
 entirely vascular, consisting principally of a secreting 
 artery exceedingly ramified and convoluted, and termi- 
 nating by its capillaries partly in a vein, and partly in an 
 excreting duct. Other anatomists have supposed that 
 cavities more or less extensive lie between the termi- 
 nations of the arterial branches and the excretory ducts ; 
 and that within these cavities the principal changes that 
 form the secreted fluids, take place. Malpighi con- 
 ceived that there existed in the glands, small bodies of 
 a peculiar nature, that constituted the essential secret- 
 ing organs. These have been called crypttc, but are 
 supposed by Mr Hcwson to be only convoluted vessels. 
 None of these points are, however, satisfactorily ascer- 
 tained ; we only know that the arteries which penetrate 
 the glands communicate with the excretory ducts that 
 pass out from them ; but whether this communication 
 be direct or indirect, we cannot determine. 
 
 All the true secreting glands (following the system 
 of Bichat) are furnished with membranous tubes, for 
 the purpose of conveying the secreted fluid, either into 
 particular cavities, or to the surface of the body. These 
 tul)es are the excretory ducts of anatomists. They 
 arise, like the veins, by an infinite number of capillaries, 
 which form greater and greater ramifications, till they 
 unite in the general trunk. Where granulated bodies 
 CUist in the gland, each of them appears to give origin 
 to one of those capillary ducts. The ramifications pass 
 in straight lines from the inmost recesses of the gland 
 towards the general trunk of the duct. The excretory 
 ducts are composed ])rincipally of two layers, a central 
 mucous membrane, which may be considered as a pro- 
 
 duction from that which lines the cavity into which the 
 duct oijcns, or Irom the skin; and a peripheral mem- 
 brane whicli differs both in lliickness and appearance in 
 ditftreiit glands. 
 
 All the glands are furnished with blood-vessels, but 
 these vessels enter the gland, and go out froiri it in a 
 different manner, accordhig as the glands are invelopcd 
 in a general membrane, or consist of separate and dis- 
 tinct lobes. In the former case, ihe arteries enter, and 
 the veins come out at one side ol the gland, where there 
 is commonly a fissure or depression ; in the latter case, 
 the arteries penetrate the glands on all sides, and the 
 veins come out in a similar manner. The glands arc 
 well supplied with nerves, but it does not appear that 
 their function and secretion are influenced by the ner- 
 vous power. See Bichat, Aiiat. Gen. torn. iv. p. 603. 
 The glands have absorbents, and probably exhalants, 
 but these are confined chiefly to their perlplieral surface. 
 
 Having premised these general remarks on the glan- 
 dular system, we shall now examine such of the secret- 
 ing glands and organs of excretion as we have not yet 
 described, or which do not more properly belong to the 
 succeeding chapters. We shall begin with the salivaiy 
 glands and the pancreas, all of which we shall find to be 
 intimately connected in their structure, and in the na- 
 ture of the fluid which they secrete. 
 
 I. Of the Salivary Glands and Pancreas. 
 
 The salivary glands consist, as we have seen, of the 
 two parotids, the two sub-maxillary glands and the sub- 
 lingual glands. The situation of these is sufficiently 
 described in the table. With respect to structure, they 
 all pretty nearly resemble each other. Tiiey are all of 
 a grayish colour, of a pretty firm texture, and composed 
 of several very apparent separate lobes, connected by 
 cellular substance, which gives to their peripheral sur- 
 face a very thin and delicate coat. Besides this thin 
 coat from the cellular membrane, they are furnished 
 with another peripheral membrane, derived from the 
 cellular substance of the neighbouring organs, and this 
 is attached to them more loosely. They all receive 
 their blood-vessels by numerous ramifications, and they 
 have all excretory ducts opening into the cavity of the 
 mouth. They differ from each other in size and form. 
 The parotid glands are the largest, and of a long irre- 
 gular shape ; the sub-maxillary glands are smaller and 
 rounder than the parotids, and the sub-lingual glands 
 are the least, of an oval form and flattened. They differ 
 also in their excretory ducts. Those of the parotid 
 glands are of a large size, and have very thick coats, 
 though their internal diameter is very small. They 
 pass from the atlantal and inial part of the glands, in a 
 transverse direction over the tendons of the masseteF 
 muscles, whence they descend a little, and open into 
 the mouth, through a perforation in the buccinator mus- 
 cles opposite to the second or third grinder of the upper 
 jaw. The excretory ducts of the sub-maxillary glands 
 are longer than those of the parotids, but their coats are 
 thinner. They pass between the ?nylo-/iyoidei and gtnio- 
 glossi muscles, and open into the mouth bel;ind the cut- 
 ting teeth of the lower jaw, by two small papillary ori- 
 fices. The excretory ducts of the sub-lii\gual glands 
 are not formed into a single trunk, like those of the two 
 former pairs, but they open by several orifices arranged 
 in a line along the gums, a little on the outside of the 
 frenum of the tongue. The arteries that supply the
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 813 
 
 parotid glands come from the temporal arteries; tliose 
 of the sub-inaxillary from the faeuii, and those oi the 
 subungual Irom the lingual arteries. All their veins 
 terminate in the external jugulars. The nerves are 
 chiefly from branches of tlie inferior maxillary nerve, 
 and trom the fwriio dura of the seventh pair. 
 
 The salivary glands in new-born infants are propor- 
 tionally smaller than at any future period; their action 
 is very trifling, and for the first few weeks, the secre- 
 tion of saliva is btit small. This secretion is, however, 
 remarkably increased during dentition. The parotid 
 gland in infants is of a yellowish colour, and their saliva 
 is often remarkable for giving a yellow tinge to linen. 
 
 These glands, especially the parotid, sympatliisc in 
 particular cases, with other glandular organs, especially 
 with the testes in inen, and the breasts in women, as 
 appears from the curious phenomena that take place in 
 that inflammatory affection of the parotid, called by phy- 
 sicians cynanckc jmrotidea, and in common language the 
 vniinjis. 
 
 Many of our later anatomists and physiologists have 
 remarked a striking similarity, both in structure and 
 functions, between the pancreas and the salivary gland.s; 
 but scarcely any anatomical writers, if we except M. 
 Roux, the writer of the 5th volume of Bichat's y/«a;om/(;- 
 Descriptive, have described them in the same part of 
 their systems. 
 
 The pancreas, or, as it is popularly termed, the sweet- 
 bread, is of a long flat form, and is situated transversely 
 within a doubling of the mesocolon, extending towards 
 the left to the spleen, and towards the right to the first 
 curvature of the duodenum, to the side of which it is 
 attached by a small oblong process, commonly called 
 the head of the pancreas. This process was, by Wins- 
 low, its discoverer, called the lesser pancreas. The 
 pancreas may be considered as the largest of the sali- 
 vary glands, and in its general shape, has been said to 
 resemble a dog's tongue. Its broad surfaces look ster- 
 nad and dorsad, and its edges nearly atlantad and sucrad. 
 It passes over the aorta, the vena cava, and part of the 
 splenic vessels, to all of which it is attached by cellular 
 substance, by which it is also connected with the verte- 
 brae. Sternad it is enveloped by two layers from the 
 root of the mesocolon. 
 
 When the internal structure of the pancreas is exa- 
 mined, it is found to be composed of irregular, glandu- 
 lar masses or lobes, connected by loose cellular sub- 
 stance, and giving to the peripheral surface rather an 
 unequal appearance, except when the gland is distended, 
 when it appears smooth and even. The whole substance 
 of the gland is perforated longitudinally by an excretory 
 duct of considerable size, of a whitish colour, but of 
 thin and transparent coats, called the pancreatic duct. 
 This duct is very small at its origin in the left extremity 
 of the gland, but becomes gradually larger as it ad- 
 vances to the right, receiving in its course numerous 
 transverse branches from the lobes that compose the 
 substance of the gland, till it finally perforates the side 
 of the duodenum, running a little obliquely between the 
 coats of that intestine, and opening into its cavity gene- 
 rally ut the same place with the common biliary duct 
 coming from the liver and gall-bladder. 
 
 The pancreas, like the s.alivary glands, is situated in 
 the midst of organs that are much exposed to motion, 
 by which the excretion of its secreted fluid is promoted ; 
 like them it is of a grayish colour and soft consistence, 
 it is penetrated on all sides by numerous blood-vessels, 
 
 and it secretes a fluid which is extremely similar to sa- 
 liva. 
 
 Few morbid appearances have been observed in the 
 pancreas. It has been found uiflamed, ulcerated, scir- 
 rhous, or containing calculous concretions. In all these 
 aflections it resembles t!ie salivary glands. Licutaud 
 relates a case in which the pancreas was altogether 
 wanting. 
 
 The fluid secreted i)y the salivary glands is limpid, 
 tasteless, and inodorous like water, but rather more vis- 
 cid than that fluid. Its specific gravity is rather greater, 
 being about l.O'J. It is usually frothy, and always as- 
 sumes this appearance when agitated. It docs not rea- 
 dily mix with water; has a great affinity for oxygen, 
 but readily imparts that ])rinciplc to other bodies. It 
 appears to contain mucilage, albumen, nmriate of soda, 
 and phosphates of soda, lime, and ammonia, all which 
 constitute about one-fifth of its bulk, the remaining 
 four-fifths being water. 
 
 The pancreatic juice has not been chemically exa- 
 mined. In its physical properties it resembles saliva, 
 but appears to have rather a greater proportion of saline 
 ingredients. 
 
 2. Of the Liver. 
 
 The liver is the largest gland in the human body, and 
 occupies a considerable portion of the cavity of the bel- 
 ly. It is situated in the atlantal part of the cavity, im- 
 mediately below the diaphragm, filling up the whole of 
 the right hypocliondrium, and reaching across the epi- 
 gastric region into the left hypochondrium, which it 
 partly occupies. (See Plate XIX. Fig. 9. L, L.) It is 
 of a very irregular figure, convex on tliat surface which 
 is next the diaphragm, concave on the opposite surface; 
 very thick towards the right side, but becoming gra- 
 dually thinner towards the left; has a thick round edge 
 next the vertebrx,and on the right side, but terminates 
 in an acute edge in its sternal part. It docs not lie in a 
 horizontal position, but its thick dorsal margin is con- 
 siderably more atlantal than its sharp sternal edge. It 
 is divided by a fissure near the middle of its concave 
 surface into two large unequal portions called its great 
 lobes. Of these, that towards the right is larger than 
 the other. There is also a smaller lobe than either of 
 these, situated at its atlantal and dorsal part, called the 
 lobe of S/iig-elius. The liver is invelopcd in a peripheral 
 coat, derived from the peritoneum that lines the cavity 
 of the belly, and it is attached to the neighbouring parts 
 by doublings of the same membrane, which, from their 
 office, are called the ligaments of the liver. Of these 
 ligaments the inost remarkable is that which extends 
 from the fissiu'e between the two great lobes to the dia- 
 phragm, and is called the broad or snspensorij liffam'nt. 
 The convex surface of the right lobe is attaclicd to the 
 diaphragm by a production called the coronary ligament, 
 and two other productions of the pcritonemr), by which 
 the sides of the liver are attached to the neighbouring 
 viscera, are called the lateral ligaments ; and besides 
 these there is a cord that extends from a doubling in 
 the sacral part of the broad ligament to the navel, called 
 the round ligament, which we shall presently more par- 
 ticularly notice. The left lobe of the liver lies over the 
 pyloric portion of the stomach, and is attached to the 
 left side of the colon, while the right lobe is attached 
 by the right lateral ligament to the right flexure of that 
 intestine. The pancreas lies just sternad of the great 
 fissure.
 
 814 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 The concave surface of ihe liver is very irregular, 
 having several remarkable proniuiences and depressions. 
 A little stcrnad and sacrud of the lobe ol Spigelius, 
 there is a protuberance broader than that lobe, but less 
 prominent, to which anatomists have given the absurd 
 name ot iobulu.i anunynnis, and from this lobule there 
 I'rcciueiitly runs an arch over the passage lor the round 
 ligament to the left lobe, which is called the bridgf or 
 isthmus of the liver. That part of the great fissure 
 which is bounded on the right and left by the two great 
 lobes, ilormd by the lobe of Spigelius, and sttrnad by 
 the anonymous lobule, is called the transverse fissure, 
 fioria or sinus /lurlurum, and these two small lobes arc 
 called the portj: or gales. This depression is particu- 
 larly deserving of notice, as it is that part by which the 
 trunks of the great blood-vessels that supply the liver 
 enter, and from whicli its excretory ducts pass out. 
 
 To the concave surface of the right lobe is attached 
 a hollow receptacle in form resembling a pear, and 
 furnished with an excretory duct. This is the gall- 
 bladder. 
 
 The substance of the liver is of a soft consistence, 
 and of a dusky red colour. When minutely examined, 
 it seems to be almost entirely composed of the ramifi- 
 cations of vessels, though Malpighi thought he had dis- 
 covered in this, as in the other secreting glands, bundles 
 of circumscribed knotted appearances of a globular form, 
 which became more conspicuous when distended by 
 injection, whence he conceived them to be hollow cells 
 or follicles. Dr Saunders seems to favour this opinion 
 of Malpighi, for he says, that " if a subtile injection be 
 thrown in by the vena portarum., and the liver be after- 
 wards cut into thin slices, there will be found knotted 
 appearances that bear a strong resemblance to cells, 
 and which, from their equality of bulk and uniformity 
 of shape, cannot be considered as the produce of extra- 
 vasation." See Saunders on the Liver., 2d edit. p. 65. 
 Most anatomists, however, agree witli Ruysch, in sup- 
 posing that these globular appearances arise from nu- 
 merous minute ramifications of vessels, forming radiated 
 villse or pencils, from which still more minute ramifica- 
 tions proceed, till they escape our limited means of 
 investigation. 
 
 There is probably no secreting organ that is provided 
 with so great a variety of vessels as the liver. Besides 
 the hepatic artery coming from the coeliac, and the 
 veins which correspond to this artery, there is a very 
 large blood-vessel called the veiia pnrtaruin, formed by 
 the iniion of the branches of all the veins that bring back 
 the blood from the stomach, intestines, pancreas, and 
 spleen. The large vascular trunk thus formed, resem- 
 bles an artery hi its office, and, as some have supposed, 
 in its structure ; for it distributes the venous blood 
 which it has collected from the bowels, through the 
 glandular sulistance of the liver ; and though it does not 
 possess the principal discriminating mark of an artery, 
 namely the power of preserving a circular orifice when 
 transversely divided, it has thicker coats than other 
 veins, and even some appearance of muscular fibres. 
 The vena portarum enters the transverse fissure by two 
 large branches, which as well as the trunk are inveloped 
 in a membranous coat derived from the peritoneum. 
 This coat surrounds the trunks of all the vessels that 
 enter the liver, forming a common envelope, which has 
 been called the cafisule of Glisson. It does not, how- 
 ever, as that anatomist supposed, follow the ramifica- 
 tions of the vena portarum any more than those of the 
 
 other vessels of the liver. Numerous veins come from 
 the li\er, and meet in two laige branches calicd venx 
 cuvx hepaliLix, which convey the biood to the great ■uewtt 
 cava. Fart of these veins arise from the reflected extre- 
 mities of the hepatic artery, and part of them are from 
 the vena Jicrlarum., so that this last vessel may truly be 
 said to propel its blood, both from its trunk into branch- 
 es, and from branches into trunks. 
 
 Coming out irom the porta or transverse fissure, there 
 arc observed two membranous lubes, which speedily 
 unite in a single trunk, called the hepatic duct, which 
 conveys the bile secreted by the liver into another mem- 
 branous tube, by which it is carried into the duodenum. 
 When the two branches that form the hepatic duct are 
 traced through the substance ol the liver, they arc found 
 to be composed by the union of innumerable smaller 
 ducts, the origins of which are extremely minute, and 
 are called fiori biliarii, or biliary pores. The hepatic 
 duct has been supposed to possess muscular contracli- 
 biliiy, but its muscular fibres have never been detected ; 
 and when subjected to the action of ordinary stimuli in 
 the living body, it is not found to contract. It has also 
 very little elasticity, but if we may judge from the pain 
 that accompanies its obstruction by gall stones, it is ex- 
 treinely sensible. 
 
 The liver is abundantly supplied with absorbents, 
 both deep seated and superficial. The former are re- 
 markable for being most numerous near the branches 
 of the hepatic duct, and for their very frequent inoscu- 
 lations with each other. They appear to be equally 
 valvular with other absorbents, but their valves do not 
 so perfectly obstruct the retrograde passage of fluids. 
 This organ appears to have but few nerves. It re- 
 ceives nervous filaments, both from the par vagum and 
 great sympathetics, and especially from that ganglion 
 close to the diaphragm, called the semilunar ganglion. 
 
 The size of the liver does not seem to vary in the dif- 
 ferent sexes, though, from the chest being proportion- 
 ally smaller in females, the liver usually extends in them 
 more into the left hypochondrium, and sometimes oc- 
 cupies no inconsiderable part of the umbilical region. 
 In the foetus the liver is very large, and its two great 
 lobes scarcely differ from each other in size. These 
 differences in the liver of the fcctus and that of the 
 adult, depend on the greater quantity of blood which 
 the liver of the former receives, as before birth the 
 umbilical vein coming from the placenta, carries a con- 
 siderable portion of blood to the liver, especially to its 
 left lobe. After birth, this supply of blood by the um- 
 bilical vein being cut off, the vein itself becomes imper- 
 vious, and forms the round ligament, and the whole 
 liver, especially the left lobe, proportionally diminishes 
 in bulk, or at least does not increase in the same pro- 
 portion with the other parts of the body. The action 
 of the liver is generally greatest in middle age, and in 
 warm climates. It diminishes as old age advances, and 
 at this period of life the substance of the liver fre- 
 quently becomes soft, flaccid, and of a deeper colour 
 tlian before. 
 
 We have mentioned the gall-bladder as being a pear- 
 shaped receptacle, attached to the concave surface of 
 the right lobe of the liver. The attachment extends 
 through its whole length, and is occasioned by a pro- 
 duction of the peritoneum reflected over the gall-blad- 
 der from the liver. The larger extremity of this recep- 
 tacle is situated more sacrad than its small extremity, 
 so that the round part called its fundus is, b the usual
 
 ANATOMY, 
 
 815 
 
 position of the body, the most depending part, while tlie 
 neck is coiisidLrauly elevaled. Wlicn the gall-bladder 
 is distended, tiie lundus advances beyond the sternal 
 edge of the liver; so as somciiines to touch the soft 
 parts of the belly in the right hypochondrium. It usually 
 rests on the coloii, near the coniiiiencement of the duo- 
 denum. From the neck of the gall-bladder is continued 
 a membranous tube called the cy.\/ic duct, which soon 
 unites with the trunk of the hepatic duct, thus fonniiig 
 a common canal, called ductus cummunis choicduchuH, or 
 the common biliary duct. This common duct is of 
 larger diameter than either the hepatic or cystic duct. 
 It passes immediately to the duodenum, into which it 
 enters at the second ilexurc of that intestine, running a 
 little way obliquely between its coats, and opening into 
 its cavity by an oblong projecting orifice. 
 
 The gall-bladder is composed of three principal mem- 
 branes, a peripheral coat, derived, as we have said, from 
 the peritoneum ; and a central mucous coat, similar to 
 the other mucous membranes, and especially to that 
 which lines the intestines, as it is furnished with nume- 
 rous reticular folds, running towards the neck in a lon- 
 gitudinal direction. Among these folds there are nume- 
 rous orifices, through which oozes the mucus secreted 
 in the corion of the membrane. Between the periphe- 
 ral and central coats is another, in which there have 
 been described a few scattered fibres running in various 
 directions. These fibres are, by some, supposed to be 
 muscular, and this coat has been therefore called the 
 muscular coat of the gall-bladder ; but the fibres are so 
 indistinct, and even their general existence so equivocal, 
 that most anatomists are disposed to deny all muscular 
 power to the gall-bladder. 
 
 Trlie blood vessels, absorbents and nerves of the gall- 
 bladder, are connected with those of the liver. 
 
 The gall-bladder appears to serve no other purpose 
 in the human economy than that of a receptacle lor the 
 bile, though some have imagined that the bile which it 
 contains is secreted by it, or that there is a direct 
 communication between its cavity and the substance of 
 the liver, by what are called hefuUo-cijstic ducts. As, 
 however, the gall-bladder has nothing of a glandular 
 appearance, except in the mucous follicles attached to 
 its central membrane ; and as the existence of hepato- 
 cystic ducts in the human subject has been completely 
 disproved, we must infer that the gall-bladder is merely 
 a passive receptacle. See Saunders on the Liver, chap. 6. 
 
 It is now generally allowed that the hepatic artery 
 serves entirely for the nourishment of the liver, and that 
 the peculiar fluid secreted by this gland, and which we 
 call bite or gall, is derived from the blood of the vena 
 portarum. This bile, besides descending from the liver 
 through the hepatic duct, is always found collected in 
 a greater or less quantity within the gall-bladder, whence 
 it occasionally flows together with that from the liver, 
 through the common duct into the duodenum. 
 
 Bile is a viscid fluid, of a yellowish green colour, 
 unctuous to the touch, of a bitter taste, and a peculiar 
 unpleasant odour. Its specific gravity varies in diffLicnt 
 cases, but is always greater than that of water, and is 
 stated at the medium of 1.027. When agitated, it be- 
 comes frotliy like soap and water, whence it is called a 
 safionaceous fluid. It readily mixes with water, and the 
 solution is of a yellow colour. By chemical analysis, it 
 is found to consist of about three-fourths water, and one- 
 fourth of solid matters, which are chiefly a peculiar 
 resin, a saccharine matter, a small proportion of albu- 
 
 men, soda, muriate, sulphate and phosphate of soda, 
 phosphate of lime, and a very little oxide of iron. 
 
 The bile contained within the gall-bladder differs from 
 that which conies immediaiely from the liver, in being 
 niore viscid, ol a darker colour, and mixed with the mu- 
 cus secreted by that organ. It is chiefly on the bile of 
 the gall-bladder, however, tliat experiments on the na- 
 ture and properties of this fluid have l^ecn made, as a 
 sufficient (pianlity of bile from the hepatic duct can 
 scarcely be procured. 
 
 \'arious parts of the liver and its appendages arc of- 
 ten found aft'ected with diflerent degiees and modifica- 
 tions of inflammation. Sometimes the inflammation is 
 confined to the peripheral membrane, and adhesions arc 
 observed to have taken place between this membrane 
 and the adjacent peritoneal coat of the diaphragm, or of 
 the neighbouring organs. The substance of the liver 
 is not uiifretiuently seen in a state of inflammation, when 
 it is of a deep purple colour, and generally enlarged. 
 Sometimes abscesses of various extent are observed, 
 and now and then the liver has been seen in a state of 
 mortification. Very frequently there are found within 
 the liver, masses called tubercles, which assume very 
 different appearances, being sometimes hard and white, 
 at others soft and brown, and of a reddish colour, and 
 sometimes very nearly resembling those found within 
 the lungs. The substance of the liver is sometimes 
 unusually hard, at others preternaturally soft or flaccid, 
 and in a few instances a part of its surface has been 
 seen cartilaginous or bony. Lastly, the liver has been 
 found ruptured or torn across. 
 
 The gall-bladder frequently partakes of the inflam- 
 mation that affects the peritoneal coat of the liver, 
 though it is sometimes seen primarily affected with in- 
 flammation, ulceration, or scirrhous. Its coats have been 
 found thickened, containing tubercles or even bony mat- 
 ter. The most common morbid appearances, however, 
 of the gall-bladder, are those which affect its excretory 
 duct, or the state of the bile contained within its cavity. 
 The biliary ducts are frequently dilated, and are found 
 obstructed by concretions formed from the solid matters 
 of the bile. Instances have occurred, in which the 
 cavity of the duct is completely obliterated. The gall- 
 bladder is often found distended with bile, and the ap- 
 pearance of biliary concretions in it is by no means un- 
 frequent. The physical nature and chemical proper- 
 ties of these concretions, as of some others that are found 
 within the urinary bladder, will be considered under fu- 
 ture articles. 
 
 3. Of the S/ilee?2. 
 
 The spleen is an organ of considerable size, though 
 greatly inferior to the liver. It is of an oblong oval 
 figure, a little depressed, and, like the liver, it is ex- 
 tremely vascular. It is of a soft consistence, and of 
 a purple colour. It is situated in the left hypochondriac 
 region, nearly in a vertical position, just below the 
 diaphragm, and between the large extremity of the 
 stomach and the false ribs, with its sacral extremity 
 lying behind the colon. On its lateral surface, it is con- 
 vex, smooth, and equal ; at its mesial side it is irregu- 
 larly concave, and is divided by a longitudinal fissure 
 into a sternal and dorsal part, of w hich the former is the 
 more concave. On its edges it is frequently deeply 
 cleft, and somotimes it is furnished w ith appendages, or 
 lesser spleens. Like the liver, it is enveloped in a
 
 H16 
 
 ANATOJMY. 
 
 l)critonc;il coul, by doublings from which il is atlached 
 to the iieigl.bouiiiiii; orgiuis. Ucsides Ibis general 
 membrane, which it has in common with most ol the 
 abdominal viscera, it is furnished wuh a peculiar in- 
 vesting incnibranc, of a whitish gray colour, of con- 
 siderable thickness, consistence, and elasticity, and 
 resembling llie liljrons membranes of Bichat. Produc- 
 tions from this membrane penetrate the substance ot 
 the spleen, and envelope the trunks of its principal ves- 
 sels. 
 
 If we except the liver and the lungs, no organ of 
 the human body is so vascular as the spleen. Indeed, 
 ncaily its whole substance is composed of ramilica- 
 tions of arterious and venous vessels. It is supplied 
 with arlerieslrom the coeliac arteries, and from what 
 are called the vasu brcvia, that go to the stomach, and 
 its veins are peculiarly large. Mr Everard Home 
 states, that when both the trunk of ihe splenic vein, and 
 that of the corresponding artery arc injected with wax, 
 the size of the former is live limes that of the latter ; a 
 proportion which docs not occur hi any other part of 
 the human body. — Pl'ii- Trans. 1807. The substance 
 of the spleen is much softer than that of the liver, the 
 coats of its vessels being remarkably tender. Tlie in- 
 timate structure of this organ has not, till lately, been 
 well understood. Malpighi, long ago, described a cel- 
 lular structure of the spleen, the cells of which con- 
 tain red blood, thus placed between the arteries and the 
 veins. Cuvier mentions small corpuscles, of a white 
 colour, which are made to disappear by minute in- 
 jection, and the use of which is unknown. — {Lemons 
 jD'Jimtomk Com/iaree, torn. iv. p. 58.) Mr Home, on at- 
 tentively examining the spleen, has discovered, that 
 these corpuscles are distinct cells, containing a fluid, 
 which renders their membranous coat visible, and es- 
 capes when this is punctured. From these cells the 
 venous branches appear to arise, forming plexuses 
 round the cells, and passing ofi" from them in a radiated 
 direction, at right angles, to the circumference of the 
 cells. 
 
 Numerous lymphatics pass from the spleen through 
 lymphatic glands, lying near the splenic artery. This or- 
 gan is supplied with nerves by branches from tlie great 
 synipathetics and par vagum, which form a plexus round 
 the great vessels. No excretory duct has been discovered 
 belonging to the spleen. 
 
 The uses of the spleen in the animal economy are 
 not completely ascertained ; and we shall not, in this 
 place, even enumerate the various hypotheses that have 
 been contrived to account for the presence of an organ 
 so large, and so well supplied with blood. The late ex- 
 periments of Mr Home appear to prove, that at least 
 one important use of the spleen is to convey from the 
 stomach to the bladder, by a shorter passage than could 
 otherwise be afforded, that part of the fluids received 
 into the stomach, which is not required for the process 
 of digestion. 
 
 The morbid appearances of the spleen do not ma- 
 terially difl'er from those observed in the liver. As in 
 this organ, both the peripheral membrane, and the sub- 
 stance of the spleen, have been found in a state of in- 
 flammation ; cartilaginous spots have been seen on the 
 surface ; tuliercles, or stony concretions, or hydatids, 
 have been discovered within its suljstance ; the w'hole 
 organ has been found very hard, and sometimes much 
 enterged. The spleen has also been found ruptured, 
 wid now and then this organ has been altogether wanting. 
 
 4. Of the Urinary Organs. 
 
 The kidneys are situated about the middle of th& 
 dorsal part of the behy, one on each side the spine, iii 
 the rignt and left lumbar regions. They are placed 
 vertxally, behind the intestines, and in such a manner, 
 tliat the atlanial extremily of the right kidney lies im- 
 mediately below tne right lobe of the liver, while the 
 atlantal extremity of the left kidney is nearly contiguous 
 to the sacral extiemity of tlie spleen. The right kidney 
 is commonly a little lower than the left. (See Plate 
 XIX. Fig. 10, I. I.) To describe the form of organs, 
 which furnish one of the most familiar comparisons in 
 discriminating the figure of other objects, would be iai- 
 periincnt ; we shall remark only, that their atlantal ex- 
 tremities are larger than their sacral ; that their convex 
 margin looks towards the sides of the belly, while the 
 concave depression points mcsiad to the large blood ves- 
 sels. They are of a much firmer consistence than 
 either the liver or the spleen, and of a pale red colour. 
 They are not inveloped in a peritoneal coat, like the 
 other abdominal organs which we have been describ- 
 ing, but are surrounded by a considerable quantity oi 
 loose, fatty, cellular substance. From this cellular sub- 
 stance is partly derived the proper peripheral membrane 
 that invests the body of the kidney, adhering very 
 closely to it, and being reflected from the concave de- 
 pression on its mesial margin, over the trunks of the 
 blood-vessels that enter and pass out at this part. This 
 peripheral coat is of a whitish colour, semi-transparent, 
 and allied to the fibrous membranes. 
 
 The glandular substance of the kidney consists of 
 two parts, different in their structure and consistence ; 
 one called the cortical substance, forming the peripheral 
 part of the organ, and another called medullary, composhig 
 the centre. The medullary part forms seven, eight, or 
 nine conical divisions, each with a convex base, and having 
 their summits converging towards the concave depres- 
 sion of the kidney. These summits end in what are 
 called papillae, which project within a cavity called the 
 pelvis of the kidney. The cortical substance is of a 
 darker colour than the medullary which it surrounds, 
 sending productions between the cones that compose 
 the latter, and giving to the cut substance of the kidney 
 a streaked appearance. What is called the pelvis of the 
 kidney, is properly a membranous cavity, formed by 
 the meeting of short membranous tubes, called in- 
 fundibula, which surround the papillary terminations of 
 the medullary part of the kidney. 
 
 Each kidney receives from the aorta a considerable 
 artery, which is generally given off in a single trunk, 
 though sometimes there are two or even three trunks. 
 The renal artery enters by the mesial depression, and 
 immediately divides into a number of branches, that are 
 ramified through every part of the glandular substance, 
 and sometimes even pierce the peripheral coat to the 
 surrounding cellular membrane. It is remarkable, that 
 those arterial ramifications do not inosculate with each 
 other, though the ramifications of the renal veins have 
 frequent anastsmosex. Within the cortical substance of 
 the kidney most of the arterial branches terminate, partly 
 in their corresponding veins, and partly in corpuscles, 
 from which arise what are called uriniferous tubes. 
 These tubes, at their commencement in the cortical 
 substance, are extremely slender and tortuous, but in- 
 crease in size, and run in a straighter direction as they 
 unite in entering the medullary part. Here they gradu-
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 81^ 
 
 uUy form the in/undibula, which, joining in three con- 
 siderable tubes that again unite, form the /wtvis, from 
 which is given oft' the ureter, or general excretory duct 
 of the kidney. 
 
 The nerves that supply the kidneys are derived from 
 the aemliunar gaiifflion, noticed in describing the liver ; 
 they form a plexus round the trunks of the vessels. 
 The lymphatics are chiefly deep seated, or at least the 
 superficial absorbents arc very small. They may be 
 distinctly seen in the left kidney in the Figure of Plate 
 XX. 
 
 The ureters run obliquely sacrad in a serpentine 
 direction, on each side of the lumbar vci-tcbrae, till tlicy 
 reach the dornal side of the urinary bladder, into which 
 they enter, as will be presently described. They are 
 membranous tubes, resembling in structure tlie biliary 
 ducts, but not like them regularly cylindrical ; the 
 ureters being alternately contracted and dilated. Besides 
 the peripheral and central coats, common to all excretory 
 ducts, the ureters are said to possess a middle muscular 
 coat, and on their sternal sides they receive a fold from 
 the /leriioneum. 
 
 Following the course of the ureters, we are led to the 
 general receptacle of the urine, or urinary bladder. 
 This is situated in the sacral and sternal part of the 
 pelvis, between the pubis and the rectum in men, and 
 between the pubis and vagina in women. In man, the 
 bladder, when distended, is nearly of a spherical form, a 
 little flattened sternad, convex dorsad, and laterad, and 
 of a greater diameter from side to side, than from its 
 sternal to its dorsal part. It is commonly divided into 
 fundus, on that part which is most atlantal, and which, 
 in the natuarl state, projects a little sternad ; neck, wliich 
 is its most sacral, or depending part, though this is 
 scarcely so much contracted as to deserve the title of 
 neck ; and body lying between these. Atlantad and 
 partly dorsad, the bladder is connected with the peri- 
 toneum, and is attached to the rectum and to the sides 
 of the pelvis, partly by that membrane, and partly by cel- 
 lular substance. It is connected with the navel by a 
 triple ligamentous cord, to the arch of the pubis by a 
 ligamentous expansion, running from each side of its 
 neck, and to the kidneys by tlie ureters. 
 
 The bladder is composed of three distinct coats, each 
 of considerable thickness ; a peripheral coat, partly 
 derived from the peritoneum, and partly from the adja- 
 cent ccMular substance, a central mucous membrane, 
 similar to the other membranes of that class, and an in- 
 termediate fibrous coat, which is evidently muscular. 
 The fleshy fibres composing this coat run in various 
 directions, collected into numerous separate bundles, 
 but many of them are longitudinal, and converge from 
 the body of the bladder to its neck, where they compose 
 a layer, much thicker than any other part of the bladder, 
 forming what has been called the sfihincter of the urin- 
 ary bladder. This muscle, or coat, is connected with 
 the others by cellular substance. 
 
 At its sacral part the bladder is perforated by thi-ee 
 orifices, one sternad terminating its neck, and leading 
 to the membranous tube that runs through the penis, 
 called the urethra, and two latei-ad and dorsad, of nearly 
 an oval form, which are the openings of the ureters. 
 These excretory ducts coming from the kidneys, having 
 reached the dorsal part of tlie bladder, enter obliquely 
 between the muscular coat ?nd mucous membrane, and 
 run for some distance between these coats, till they per- 
 VoL. I. Paht II. 
 
 forate the mucous membrane by the openings just des- 
 cribed. 
 
 The arteries that supply the urinary bladder come 
 from the hypogastric, and have nothing extraorduiary 
 in their appearance ; but the veins are remarkable lor 
 forming a very complicated network, especially about 
 the neck of the bladder. This receptacle is lurnislied 
 with numerous lymphatics, and with nervous filaments 
 coming from the hypogastric filexus. 
 
 The urinary bladder is possessed of considerable con- 
 tractile power ; is very expansible and elastic, and, espe- 
 cially about its neck, extremely sensible. 
 
 The bladder of women is broader than that of men, 
 has not so long a neck, and its neck is not surrounded 
 with any thing like the male prostate gland. 
 
 The neck of the bladder, and commencement of the 
 urethra, are surrounded by a glandular body that pro- 
 jects considerably dorsad, and is called the prostate 
 gland, and from this gland dorsad and a little laterad, 
 there extend over the body of the bladder two tortuous 
 lobated bodies, which are called seminal vesicle- (xiesi- 
 ciilx semina/cs.) As these appendages to the bladder 
 seem, however, to belong rather to the organs of repro- 
 duction, we shall defer their description till we consider 
 those organs. 
 
 Attached to the atlantal, and partly to the mesial side 
 of the kidneys, are found two bodies of a dark yellow co- 
 lour, and of an irregular, flattened form. Their size 
 varies, but in the adult they are generally about two 
 fingers' breadth in length. These, from their glandular 
 appearance, have been called renal, or sufirarenul glands; 
 and, from the blackish fluid which they contain, airabi- 
 liary ca/isules. They are of a firm texture, and a yellow- 
 ish colour, superficially, but of a softer consistence, and 
 of a reddish brown in their central part. Here there is 
 sometimes a cavity, containing a serous blackish fluid, 
 and lined with a delicate membrane. They are enve- 
 loped in the same cellular substance that surrounds the 
 kidneys, and have a proper coat, which is thin, and ad- 
 heres firmly to the surface. They are well supplied with 
 arteries, have several veins, lymphatics, and nerves, but 
 appear to have no excretory ducts. 
 
 The kidneys and urinary bladder are probably the 
 only organs appropriated to the secretion and excre- 
 tion of the urine. The use of the renal glands is not 
 known. 
 
 The urinary organs have not the same appcarancAand 
 proportion in the fretus as in the adult. The kidneys 
 have an irregular surface, and are composed of several 
 distinct lobes ; the renal glands are almost as large as 
 the kidneys themselves, and receive a considerable quan- 
 tity of blood ; the urinary bladder, instead of being sphe- 
 rical, as in the adult, is of a lengthened form, extending 
 almost to the navel, and its fundus is prolonged into a 
 conical tube, called uracfius, which passes between the 
 umbilical arteries, forming the middle of the future tri- 
 ple ligament, which we have described as connecthig 
 the bladder with the navel. After birth, the kidneys 
 gradually acquire the uniform external appearance which 
 they are found to possess in the adult ; the renal glands 
 diminish till they become not more than f-5th of their 
 original size ; the bladder diminishes in length, becomes 
 rounder, and gradually sinks withhi the pelvis, scarcely 
 arisinc above the pubis, except when consi.lcrably dis- 
 tended with urine. In very young children, the bladder 
 is possessed of much more irritability than at most other 
 ' 5 L
 
 818 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 periods of life, and the urine, from this circumstance, is 
 seldom long detained. In old people, the kidneys lose 
 the firmness which they formerly possessed, and gene- 
 rally become soft and flaccid, wliile the cellular mem- 
 brane that envelopes them is deprived of a considerable 
 portion of its fat. Tiie urinary bladder sometimes loses 
 much ot its irritability, and being less excited by the 
 stimulus of the urine, allows this fluid to collect in an 
 unusual quantity. Thus, from frequent distension, it is 
 often found greatly enlarged. In some cases, however, 
 the bladder becomes contracted, and its membranes 
 thickened, cartilaginous, or horny. 
 
 The general appearance, and most of the physical 
 properties of urine, are well known. Its specific gra- 
 vity is rather greater than that of water, varying from 
 1.005 to 1.033. When first voided, it has usually an 
 agreeable odour, but this is gradually lost; and after 
 having stood some time, the fluid acquires a peculiar 
 foetor Examined by chemical analysis, the urine is 
 found to contain a great variety of ingredients, some of 
 them of a peculiar nature. Water is the most bulky 
 constituent, and it holds in solution or suspension, 
 phosphoric acid, phosphates of lime, magnesia, soda, 
 and ammonia ; carbonic acid, carbonate of lime, benzoic 
 acid, niuriates of soda and ammonia, sulphur, albumen, 
 gelatine, a resinous substance, and three peculiar prin- 
 ciples, one of which is called rosacic acid, and the others 
 uric acid and iirca. See Che.mistry. 
 
 Numerous morbid appearances have presented them- 
 selves on examining the urinary organs after death. 
 The peripheral membrane of the kidneys has been found 
 inflamed; the kidneys themselves scirrhous, ulcerated, 
 aH"ected with scrofulous tumours; filled with hydatids, 
 or having within them calculous concretions. The sub- 
 stance of the kidneys is sometimes found preternaturally 
 soft, at others unusually hard, or having earthy or bony 
 particles dispersed through it. Frequently one kidney 
 is found larger than the other; in some cases there is 
 only one, and in a few instances both kidneys are foiuid 
 to have grown together. The renal glands have been 
 seen scrofulous, and sometimes ulcerated. The ureters 
 are frequently seen much dilated, their coats thickened, 
 and sometimes a calculous concretion impacted wit'nin 
 their cavity. 
 
 The urinary bladder is often found in a state of in- 
 flammation or ulceration; it is sometimes discovered in 
 a cancerous slate, beset with fungous or polypous ex- 
 crescences, or having its coats thickened. Its cavity is 
 sometimes divided into two, and, in a few cases, hollow 
 appendages, or cysts, are found communicating with it. 
 Part of the bladder has been found wanting, and in these 
 cases the ureters sometimes terminate near the navel; 
 at others the dorsal side of the bladder is turned sternad, 
 and the ureters open a little above the pubes. One of 
 th.e most common morbid appearances of the bladder is 
 that of urinary concretions, or stones, either lying loosely 
 within the cavity, or attached to the central membrane. 
 In most cases these stones are single, but not unfre- 
 qucntly there are several found together. In tiie former 
 case, the concretion is usually of an oval form, and 
 smooth surface ; but in the latter the form is generally 
 angular, and the surface more or less uneven. For a 
 particular account of the appearances, and chemical 
 analysis of uiinary concretions, see the articles Chemis- 
 try and SuuGERY. 
 
 On the structure of the sccrelin^ on^ans in general, 
 see the works of Malpighi and of Ruysch; Bichat's 
 
 Traicc des Membranes., and his Anatomic Generate, Urea. 
 i. and iv ; Bordeu's Rcchcrclnn Anutcmu,ues nur la foni- 
 tion el {'Action dea GlandcH, and his Htcherchca nur ic 
 Tinsu Muqueux ; and for tijc best description ol the 
 organs treated of in this cliapter, see Winslow's Traiii 
 d'Anatumie ; various parts ol Cuvier's Lcj'.nn d'Anuto- 
 mic Com/iaree, antl of Bichat's Anatrjmic iJcucriJitivc ; 
 Glisson's Anatomia Hc/iatin ; Saunder's Trtatine on the 
 Hiruclure and Econoviy of the Liver ; and a paper On 
 the ii/ilcen, by Mr Everard Home, in the PliiLo-iofihical 
 Tranauctions for 1807. 
 
 Wc have now examined all the organs that are con- 
 tained within the belly ; but it will be proper, before 
 concluding this chapter, to give a general view of the 
 form, bouridaries, and divisions of this cavity, and to de- 
 scribe the disposition and reflections of the serous mem- 
 brane by which it is lined. 
 
 The abdomen, or belly, is considerably larger than 
 the chest, and is much longer on its sternal than its 
 dorsal side. It is bounded attantad by tfte diaphragm, 
 sacrad by the pelvis, ateriiad Ijy the recti abdominis mus- 
 cles ; dor.fad by the lumbar vertebras and the muscles 
 that are attached to them, especially the quadrati lumbo- 
 rum. On the sides the cavity is bounded chiefly by the 
 obli(]ui extend, obli(jui interni, and transversi abdominis 
 muscles. On the sternal aspect, between the two recti 
 muscles, runs what anatomists call the iinea alba. The 
 belly is usually divided into several parts, called regions, 
 which have received various names, according to their 
 situation, or the parts near which they lie. Dividing 
 the belly from the sternum to the pubis, there are count- 
 ed three regions, which we may call atlantal, middle, and 
 sacral regions ; the first beginning at tlie ensiform carti- 
 lage of the sternum, and extending to about a hand's 
 breadth atlantad of the navel, the last from about the 
 same distance aacrad of the navel, or from an imaginary 
 line drawn between the atlanto-sternal spinous processes 
 of the haunch-bones to the pubes, while the middle oc- 
 cupies the intermediate space. 
 
 Each of these larger regions has been subdivided into 
 three. The atlantal region has the epigastric in its 
 middle and the right and left hypochondriac regions on 
 its sides ; the middle region has the umbilical region for 
 some distance on each side of the navel, and its sides 
 are called the lumbar regions ; and the sacral region 
 has the hypogastric in its middle, aiid the right and left 
 iliac regions on its sides. 
 
 It will be seen that these regions are exirem.ely arbi- 
 trary, and their limits by no means well defined ; but as 
 they are employed by anatomists in marking the relative 
 situations of the abdominal viscera, we could not proper- 
 ly omit them. 
 
 The peritoneum, or that membrane which lines the 
 sides of the belly, and is reflected over the most of its 
 contents, ranks, as we have seen, among the serous mem- 
 branes. It is thin, and when separated from its attach- 
 ments, transparent, though while connected with them, 
 it appears of a wliitish coloiu*. It is exceedingly dilata- 
 ble, and very clastic. It is supplied with blood-vessels 
 from the small arteries of the parts which it invests; has 
 a few small nervous filaments, chiefly from the great 
 sympathetic and sacral nerves, and numerous absorbents, 
 which pass chiefly to the iliac and lumbar plexuses. 
 
 It is not easv to convey in words a just idea of the dis- 
 position of this mr-mbrane. We have heard it compared 
 to a large thin sheet that we may suppose united at its 
 edges and applied by one part to the Unea alba, at the
 
 ANAT031Y. 
 
 81i) 
 
 btcnial part of the belly, whence it. extends on each side, 
 lining all tlu; abdominal muscles, covering the pelvis, 
 passing over thcyi/wf/;;* ol' the ufinary bladder, between 
 it and Uic rectum, while at the atlantal part ol' the belly 
 it invents the concave surface of the diaphragm, and on 
 the dorsal side passes across towards tlie vertci)rsc stcr- 
 nad of the kidneys. It may be supposed that there is 
 still a great part of the sheet unattached, and that this is 
 wrapped round the liver, the stomach, the spleen, the 
 colon, the small intestines, in such a manner as to follow 
 all their curvatures, and all their convolutions, and to 
 leave doublings between them, forming the oiiioitKin, the 
 mesentery, the mesocolon., and the mcHorectuiny beside 
 the several ligaments that unite many of these viscera 
 to the adjacent organs. Thus, the whole peritoneum is 
 considered as a close bag, one side of which is smooth 
 and equal, and lines nearly the whole cavity of the belly, 
 while the other side is wrapt in innumerable foldings 
 over the abdominal viscera. Hence it has been remarked, 
 that these viscera do not properly lie within tlie cavity 
 of the belly, or at least that they are situated behind the 
 cavity formed by the peritoneum. 
 
 That part of the peritoneum which is reflected from 
 the peripheral surface of the small intestines, and ex- 
 tends from them to the lumbar vertebrae, is strictly call- 
 ed mesentery, while that part of the same membrane 
 which is reflected from the peripheral surface of the 
 colon, and extends between its great arch and the great 
 curvature of the stomach, is called mesocolon ; and a 
 small portion by which the rectum is attached to the 
 last lumbar vertebra, has the name of mesorectum. All 
 these reflected portions of the peritoneum, however, 
 form only the continuation of the same membrane, pos- 
 sess a similar structure, and serve similar purposes. 
 They are all double membranes, and between their folds 
 are contained the large blood-vessels, the mesenteric 
 and lymphatic glands of the belly, the lacteals, and other 
 absorbents. 
 
 The mesentery is said to begin at the last flexure of 
 the duodenum, to run obliquely scma/and dextrad along 
 the first, second and third lumbar -vertebi-x ; the meso- 
 colon of course commences at about the fourth lumbar 
 vertebra, follows the course of the colon, of which it 
 forms the right and left ligaments, with the broad expan- 
 sion between them, that connects the colon with the sto- 
 mach, and covers the duodenum and the /mncreas. 
 
 The course of the Periloneum, and the manner in 
 which its various doublings pass over the abdominal 
 vhcera, are well illustrated by a Plate in the 4th volume 
 of Bell's Anatomy. 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 Of the Organs of Integumation. 
 
 To complete our view of all those organs of the hu- 
 man body which are common to mankind in general, 
 without taking into consideration the dislinguisliing cha- 
 racters of the sexes, we have only to examine those 
 membranes that form the universal covering of the ex- 
 ternal surface, with their appendages. These are usu- 
 ally called tlie Common Integuments, and are here, in 
 conformity with the plan of arrangement to be afterwards 
 explained, denominated the Organs of Intetfumation. 
 
 The common integuments of the human body consist 
 of ther/iif/crm(.s, cuticle or scarf skin, the rete mucosum, 
 the true skin, and the cellular membrane ; with those 
 
 appendages which wc call hair and nails. Of these wc 
 have already treated, of the true skin (see p. 767.) as 
 behig the organ of feeling, and of the cellular membrane, 
 as llie general comieclmg organ of tlie system. We 
 shall now describe the cuticle, rete mucosum, hair and 
 nails. 
 
 The cuticle, f/(/(/(r/«/.v, or scarf skin, is that membrane 
 which covers the whole external surface of the body. 
 It adheres closely to the paits beneath, but may be 
 readily separated from them by maceration, by the ap- 
 plication ol boiling water, or by the action of blister*. 
 (See PI. XVlll. Fig. 5.) It is of various degrees of 
 tiiickness in diflerent parts of the body, being thickest 
 in the palms of the hands and soles of the feet, even 
 when these are not exposed to much pressure. Exa- 
 mined on its periplieral surface, it is found marked with 
 various lines of a curved direction, and generally paral- 
 lel to each other. These are most remarkable in the 
 points of the fingers. Interspersed with these lines, 
 are numerous pores, which appear to correspond with 
 those on the true skin, and are most evident about the 
 nose, ears, palms of the hand, and soles of the feel. 
 When separated from the adjacent membranes, the cu- 
 ticle is of a white colour, and, except in the palms and 
 soles, it is transparent. It appears to possess but verv 
 little extensibility, scarcely any elasticity, and is perfectly 
 insensible. 
 
 In general the cuticle is composed of a single layer, 
 but where it is very thick, it may be easily separated in- 
 to several layers and frequently one of these peels oft' 
 and discovers the subjacent lamina. 
 
 Authors are not agreed respecting the nature of this 
 membrane. INIost anatomists consider it as an inorganic 
 substance, merely spread over the surface of the body, 
 but having no vascular connection with the parts be- 
 neath. Others, among whom are Dr William Hunter 
 and Mr Cruikshank, have believed it to be organized, 
 though they cannot prove its organization. It is certain 
 that no vessels or nerves can be discovered running 
 along the cuticle, though, on detaching this membrane 
 from the skin, small filaments are observed, which are 
 supposed to be the cxhalants that open by the cuticular 
 pores. Some have considered it as an exudation from 
 the cutaneous vessels, hardened by exposure to the air ; 
 but this is rendered improbable, if it be not entirely con- 
 troverted, by the circumstance that the foetus in utcro 
 is covered with a cuticle. 
 
 It is well known that the cuticle, when removed, is re- 
 produced, and that it is thickened, or its layers are in- 
 creased by the application of pressure. In this way are 
 produced those horny excrescences which we call 
 corns. 
 
 It is generally supposed that the fine and delicate 
 membrane which covers the lips, lines the interior of 
 the mouth and all the cavities that communicate with 
 the surface, and are invested by mucous membranes, is 
 merely a continuation of the cuticle, though, from its 
 greater thinness, it is distinguished by a diflerent name 
 viz. ejiithelium. 
 
 Examined chemically, the cuticle is found to be inso- 
 luble in water and alcohol, but completely soluble in pure 
 potash and soda, and from the circumstance of its re- 
 ceiving a deep orange colour on the application of am- 
 monia, after it has been tinged yellow by nitric acid, it 
 is concluded that this membrane is merely a modification 
 of coagulated albumen. 
 
 The cuticle of the foetus scarcely differs from that of 
 5 L 2
 
 820 
 
 ANATOJMY. 
 
 the adult, except in its greater absolute thinness, though, 
 as we liave before remarked, even at this early period of 
 life, the membrane is thickest on the palms of the hands 
 and soles of the feet. As old age advances, the cuticle 
 becomes dry, harsh, anil more scaly, than at any former 
 period. 
 
 The nails are evidently appendages of the cuticle, as 
 they may be separated by the same means, and appear 
 to be composed of the same substance, though of greater 
 density. They are generally distinguished into three 
 parts, one next the joint of the finger or toe, which we 
 may call the liroximal part of the nail, which is firmly 
 attached to the cuticle, and forms about J ol the whole 
 length ; a second quite detached from the neighbour- 
 ing parts, and varying in length and figure, according 
 to circumstances, wliich we may call the diatal part ; 
 and a third between tlicse, constituting by far the great- 
 er part of the nail, and covering the whole sensible ex- 
 tremities ot the fiiigers and toes on their anconal and ro- 
 tiUar surfaces. The proxnnal part of the nail, is fixed 
 between two plates ol the cuticle, thai on its convex sur- 
 face having u portion of the skin betwixt it and the nail. 
 The middle portion is fixed by its concave surface to the 
 skin of tlie finger or toe, by a thin fold of the cuticle, 
 which appears to be reflected over the part, and to have 
 inbinuated itself between the skin and the nail, to the 
 latter of which it serves as a lining. 
 
 We have said that the length and form of the dis- 
 tal part of the nail varies according to circumstances. 
 If permitted to grow, it gradually extends beyond the 
 extremity of the finger or toe, and if not accidentally 
 broken, it turns over the point, so as to cover it com- 
 pletely. Hence it appears that the practice of cutting 
 the nails is not merely a point of cleanliness, but is of 
 advantage in preserving the delicacy of touch. 
 
 The nails are made up of several layers, the number 
 of which is greatest at the proximal extremity of the 
 nail, and gradually diminishes towards the distal part, 
 where the nail is thinnest. Though the free margin of 
 the nails is well known to be quite insensible, consider- 
 able pain is excited in cutting or tearing the middle por- 
 tion. This arises from the close attachment of that por- 
 tion to the skin beneath, and not, as some have supposed, 
 from any greater sensibility of the nail itself in that part ; 
 for we cannot believe that this portion of the nail posses- 
 ses any innate sensibility, more than the other parts, 
 since no vascular or nervous connection can be traced be- 
 tween them. See Bichat's Anat. Gen. torn. iv. p. 788. 
 
 The hair though not derived from the cuticle, may 
 be considered as an appendage to that membrane, as it 
 passes through pores in the cuticle, and receives from 
 it membranous productions. Bichat, at the conclusion 
 of his Anatomie Gcnerale, has given us an elaborate and 
 prolix account of the human hair, which constitutes 
 what he calls systeme /t'lt'ux. The first article of this 
 part of his work contains little more than well-known 
 facts respecting the parts of the body on which the hair 
 grows, with remarks on the disposition, form, varieties 
 and colour of the hair of the head, the eyebrows, the eye- 
 lashes, and the beard. The three succeeding sections 
 are of more importance, and treat of the organization, 
 the properties, and developcment of the hair. Of these 
 the following is a brief abstract. 
 
 The hair appears to originate within the cellular sub- 
 stance that lies below the skin, where its roots torm a 
 sort of bulb, and from its origin to its emersion beyond 
 the cuticle, each particular hair is inveloped in a small 
 membranous, transparent canal, of a cylindrical form, 
 quite distinct from the hair itself, but of which the ori- 
 gin is unknown. Surrounded by this membranous lube, 
 the hairs pass tlirough the oblique pores ol the sKin, the 
 rctt mucjuum, and tlie pores of the cuticle. Preceding 
 writers have supposed that the hairs do noipass through 
 the cuticle, bul that they push it outwards, each hair de- 
 riving from the cuticle an external covering. This 
 strange supposilion is controverted by Bichat, chiefly on 
 the grounds that each hair is of the same diameter 
 within its canai below the cuticle, as when it has emer- 
 ged beyond it, and that when this canal is opened at its 
 extremity next the skin, the hair may easily be drawn 
 out, without producing any rupture hi the cuticle. 
 
 Each hair is composed of two distinct parts, an exter- 
 nal or peripheral canal, and an internal or central medul- 
 lary part. The former of these resembles the cuticle 
 in its nature and chemical properties, and like it, is of a 
 white colour, whatever may be the colour of the hair 
 itself. The central or medullary portion of the hair is 
 that which gives to this substance its particular colour.* 
 Its nature is unknown, but it is conjectured by Bichat to 
 be composed of extremely delicate vessels, containing a 
 peculiar fluid that stagnates within their cavities. This 
 portion is essentially distinguished from the peripheral 
 tube, by its possessing vital properties. 
 
 We know that the passions of the mind have a re- 
 markable influence on the hair. In a very short time, 
 from grief or terror, it has become white, an effect that 
 can be attributed only to a change in the distribution of 
 that fluid with which the central portion of the hair is 
 filled. Sometimes the quantity of this fluid is greatly 
 Increased, and its quality so much changed, as to have 
 the appearance of blood. In some cases it is found even 
 to assume a fleshy appearance. These phenomena con- 
 stitute the characters of that formidable disease called 
 plica polonica, in which the hair bleeds on being cut, and 
 then becomes matted together. The hair is susceptible 
 of renovation when lost, as appears from a growth of 
 new hair taking place after a recovery from fevers, du- 
 ring which the patient had become bald ; and from the 
 phenomena of moulting that yearly takes place in most 
 quadrupeds, as well as birds. These and some other 
 arguments are adduced by Bichat to prove the vitality of 
 the hair. The growth of the hair appears to take place 
 from its roots. 
 
 The hair is possessed of very little extensibility, and 
 contractibility, though, considering the smallness of its 
 diameter, it is very strong, and is not easily broken. 
 When drawn between the fingers from root to point, its 
 peripheral surface appears quite smooth, though when 
 rubbed in the contrary direction, it gives a sensation of 
 roughness and resistance. This is found to be owing to 
 small scales or imbricated cones, of which the peripheral 
 tube is composed, and which lie over each other in such 
 a manner that their attachments are towards the root of 
 the hair. By chemical analysis, the hair is found to 
 contain a peculiar oil, which is supposed by Vauquelin 
 to be the colouring matter of the hair, as he observed it 
 
 * The opinion of Cuvier differs materially from that of Bichat respecting the seat of the colouring matter of the hair. That distin- 
 guished naturalist in liis Lecons d'.lnutomie Conipare'e {JfCon XIV.) states hat the colour of the hairs depends on their horny covering, 
 uod not on their mcdullaiy substance which ia white.
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 821 
 
 10 be of a blackish green in black hair, red in red hair, 
 and of a whitish colour in white liair. Besides this oil, 
 hair is said to contain chiefly inspissated mucous, though 
 probably its peripheral membrane also contains albumen. 
 Vauquelin also detected in black hau', (u'hicii was tlic sub- 
 ject of his analysis) iron in an unknown stale, oxide of man- 
 ganese, phosphate of lime, a small proportion of carbonate 
 ef lime, and a sensible quantity of silica, and of sulphur. 
 
 The above account of hair applies equally to that of 
 every part of the body ; and indeed the varieties that 
 are found in the hair of the same individual, arc not con- 
 siderable, consisting chiefly of coarseness or fineness of 
 texture, and darker or lighter colour. In individuals 
 of the different races of mankind, natives of different 
 countries belonging to the same race, and even among 
 those of the same country, the varieties in the hair form 
 a striking mark of distmction. Europeans have in ge- 
 neral long flowing hair, of a pretty firm texture, though 
 seldom harsh or wiry. The hair of the Negro is short, 
 woolly, and of a black colour ; that of the native Ameri- 
 cans, and most of the Asiatics, is thick, straight, black, 
 and shining. Among the Europeans, the Danes, and 
 other Scandinavian nations, are remarkable for the pre- 
 valence of red hair. 
 
 It seems now fully ascertained that the males of all 
 nations have beards^ though this appendage has by some 
 writers been denied to the native Americans, because 
 these people take care to eradicate the hairs from their 
 chins as soon as they appear. It is, however, not strictly 
 true, that women have no beards. Most of them have a 
 perceptible down on the chin and upper lip, and in many 
 women, especially when advanced in years, the beard is 
 very remarkable. It is, indeed, always short, soft, and 
 thin. Eunuchs, it is well known, have either no beards, 
 or such as are very short and scanty. 
 
 The state of the hair at different ages, though fami- 
 liar, is too curious to be omitted. For some lime before 
 birth the head of the fstus is covered with a soft white 
 down, concealed below a fatty matter, which at that pe- 
 riod besmears the whole surface of the body. At birth, 
 the hair is often very perceptible, though of a very pale 
 colour. In many children, however, the appearance of 
 hair is very late, a circumstance which indicates a weak 
 and delicate habit of body. In most young people the 
 hair of the head grows very fast, but nothing more than 
 a soil down appears on any other part of the body before 
 the age of puberty. At that period, the beard of the 
 male beguis to sprout, and hair shews itself in the arm- 
 pits, the limbs, &c. During middle age, lliis system 
 undergoes little change ; but as the powers of life de- 
 cay, the vessels that supply the cavity of the hairs be- 
 come obliterated, the colouring matter is no longer se- 
 creted, and (to use the language of Bichat) the internal 
 substance dies. Hence the hairs become white, and 
 those of the head genei-ally fall off. 
 
 When describing the substance of the skin, in the 
 second section of Chap. II, we mentioned a reticulated 
 layer which covered the peripheral surface of the lia- 
 pillx, called by Bichat, the reticular /lortioji, and by 
 Cruikshank the membrane of the small-fiox. The exist- 
 ence of this membrane, considered as a distinct layer 
 of the integuments, seems not to have been ascertained 
 before the appearance of Mr Cruikshank's Ex/ierimerits; 
 ami Bichat evidently confounds it with a more superfi- 
 cial layer, which is properly the rete mucosum or niucoiu 
 network. This is usually described, not as a membrane, 
 
 but as a stratum of a mucous or glairy fluid, deposited 
 between the cuticle and the skin by the vessels of the 
 latter. Previous to the time of Malpighi, it was not dis- 
 tinguished from tlie cuticle; but that acute observer 
 discovered that it was a distinct substance, and gave it 
 the name of corjius mucosuin velrcticularc ; though, in 
 lionour of him it was long called retc Malfiiffltii. 
 
 The greater part of this portion of the integuments 
 appears to consist of a very delicate vascular and porous 
 tissue, connected centrad with the skin, and jierijiherad 
 with the cuticle by means of very slender filaments, 
 though we are inclined to believe that the old opinion of 
 its being composed of a mucous fluid is partly just, and 
 that such a fluid is diffused over or through the tissue. 
 With the nature of this substance we are unaccjuauiled ; 
 but perhaps it is similar to the oily fluid that has been 
 detected by Vauquelin as forming tiie colouring matter 
 of the hair. 
 
 It is now fully ascertained that the colour of the body 
 depends on that of the retc mucosum. Tliis substance is 
 black in the Negro; reddisii in the Mulatto., and proba- 
 bly hi the native American ; brown in the Gy/i.ty ; iv/iile, 
 with a slight shade of red, in most Jiuro/teans ; and of 
 a dead white in the Albino. In Fig. 5, of Plate XVIII, 
 c, is represented the rete mucoHum of a Negro. 
 
 From the observations of Cruikshank, Bichat, and 
 other late experimental anatomists, it appears that the 
 integuments of the human body consist of at least si-^c 
 layers, viz. 1, Cuticle; 2, A peripheral layer similar to 
 cuticle, but of a finer texture; 3, Rete mucosum; 4, 
 Membrane of cutaneous eruptions ; 5, Skin ; 6, Cellular 
 membrane. 
 
 The morbid appearances presented by the organs of 
 integumation are extremely numerous, constituting the 
 characteristics of those multifarious affections called 
 Cutaneous Diseases. We shall notice only the more 
 general and important; they will be considered hereaf- 
 ter in the articles Medicine and Surgery. 
 
 The cuticle is often seen scaly. Sometimes the scales 
 fall off, and leave a redness of the surface below, as in 
 leprosy ; sometimes they accumulate, and render the 
 cuticle very thick, hard, and insensible, as in that pe- 
 culiar affection called ichthyosis. Frequently the surface 
 of the cuticle is elevated into protuberances, which are 
 sometimes soft, constituting what are called wens ; 
 sometimes hard and callous, as in warts. 
 
 Most of the morbid appearances of the integuments 
 extend beyond the cuticle, taking the forms of rashes, 
 as in the various et anthe?nata, as measles, scarlet fever, 
 nettle rash. Sec. ; of biilU or bladders, as in ery-n/ielas 
 (St Anthony's fire, or rose) ; ftemfihigus, or vesicular 
 fever, and /lomfiholyx, or water blobes ; vesicles or blis- 
 ters, as in her/ies, (ring-worm, shing-les) ; varicella (or 
 chickcn-pock); miliary eruptions, afihthx (or thrush), 
 See. and of pustules as in small-pox, cow-pox, itch, 
 scald-head, &c. 
 
 For the best accounts of the structure of the integu- 
 ments, see Bichat's Anatumie Gtncrale, tomes i. and iv. ; 
 Cruikshank's Experiments on th'- Insensible P ersfiiralion 
 of the Human Body; Cuvicr's Leqons d' Anatomic Com- 
 fiaree, tom. ii. ; and White's Account of the Regular 
 Gradation in Man, and in different Animals, Sec. 
 
 The best accounts of the morbid appearances of the 
 integuments will be found in Willar's Drscrifition and 
 Treatment of Cutaneous Diseas's, and in Aliberl's JOe- 
 scrifition des Maladies de la Pcaii.
 
 822 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 Of the Org.vns o/Repuoductio.n. 
 
 In the preceding chapters we have considered all 
 those organs of the human body, that appear necessary 
 lor carrying on the various functions of n>an, considered 
 as an intlividual, whose principal object is to support 
 life, and to hold comnuinication with the external bodies 
 that surround liim, and with other individuals of the 
 same species, abstracted from the consideration of sex. 
 We have described the organs which give firmness and 
 support to the whole body, and which form the solid 
 boundaries of its various cavities ; those by which the 
 whole body and its difi'erent parts arc set in motion ; 
 and those through the medium of which the body re- 
 ceives impressions irom without, or communicates to 
 the most distant organs the impulses by which the mind 
 actuates them to motion. We have considered the or- 
 gans that arc subservient to the support of animal life, 
 to the distribution of the fluids throughout the system, 
 and the consequent nourishment of the whole frame, 
 and to the renovation of those principles of activity 
 which had been lost during the accomplishment of these 
 ends. We have examined the structure and uses of 
 those organs which separate from the general mass of 
 circulating fluids, the substances that are useful or ne- 
 cessary for carrying on the functions of other oi'gans, 
 and which convey out of the system, through the va- 
 rious emunctories, those which are hurtfvd or effete ; 
 and we have, in the last chapter, descril)ed those organs 
 which serve as a general covering and defence to the 
 whole body. 
 
 It remains for us to examine the organs that furnish 
 to man the means of continuing the species, and which, 
 as constituting the prin-?ipal differences of the two sexes, 
 are called the sexual organs. We have denominated 
 them, after the modern French nomenclature, the or- 
 gans of reproduction. 
 
 The organs of reproduction are distinguished into 
 ?nale and female, according as they belong to the one 
 sex or the other; and most anatomical writers describe 
 the male and female organs in distinct sections. Cuvier, 
 in his comprehensive view of these organs, divides 
 them into preparatory and conservative organs, under 
 which he includes the testes, the seminal vesicles, the 
 prostate gland, and the glands of Coiv/ier, in the male, 
 and the ovaries in the female ; copulative organs, in- 
 cluding the penis in males, and the vagina in females, 
 and what he calls the educating organs, including the 
 uterus and breasts of the female. In our examination 
 of the organs, we shall, after the usual method, describe 
 first the male, and then the female organs. It is not 
 our intention to give a very minute account of anv of 
 these ; and we shall be exceedingly brief on those which 
 are obvious to the senses, as we apprehend that a par- 
 ticular description of them is unnecessary, and could 
 serve no other purpose than to gratify the prurient cu- 
 riosity of the sensualist. 
 
 These organs are partly contained, along with the 
 tirinary organs, within that cavity of the body called the 
 pelvis. In the female this cavity contains all the most 
 important orphans, but in the male, only thcjse which are 
 attached to the neck of the urinary bladder, are placed 
 within the pelvis. 
 
 The pelvis is situated at the sacral part of the belly, 
 and may even be considered as the sacral extremity of 
 I his cavity. It is formed by four bones, viz. by the sa- 
 
 crum and coccyx, forming the dorsal side of the cavity, 
 and the ossa innominatu, constituting the sternal and 
 lateral parts, the ibrmcr bemg bounded chiefly by those 
 portions called ilia, or hauncli-bones, and the latter by 
 tiie p\ibes or share-bones. The longest diameter of the 
 pelvis at its atlantal border is from side to side, or from 
 one haunch-bone to the other; but at the sacral part, its 
 diameters are nearly equal. A horizontal section of tbe 
 cavity is of an irregular oval figure. The pelvis is most 
 shallow at its sternal part, and deepest at the sides. 
 
 The bones that compose this cavity are, in the adult, 
 firmly united to each other; but this union is not so 
 firm between the pubes, as between the ossa imiominata 
 and the sacrum. What is called the sympJii/sis pubis, or 
 articulation of the share-bones, is formed by a ligamento- 
 cartilaginous substance, situated between the mesial 
 extremities of these bones, and in certain cases, admit- 
 ting some degree of motion, or even separation. This 
 cartilaginous substance is sometimes single, at others 
 doul)le, and when cut into, is found to contain within it 
 a small quantity of fluid. 
 
 From examining the dried bones of the pelvis, while 
 in connection, we should be led to suppose, that this 
 cavity is very large ; but, in the natural state of the 
 body, the extent of the cavity is greatly diminished by 
 the muscles and membranes that line the central sur- 
 faces of the bones, and pass from one process to another. 
 
 It is chiefly in the woman that the pelvis is an object 
 of particular attention, and we have formerly remarked, 
 that the female is much larger than the male pelvis (see 
 p. 728). The characteristics of a well-formed female 
 pelvis, and the morbid varieties of its component bones, 
 will be considered vmder Midwifery. 
 
 Sect. I. Of the Male Organs of Reproduction. 
 
 The male organs are very properly divided by Cuvier 
 into preparative and copulative. The principal agent 
 in reproduction is the seminal fluid, which is prepared 
 in the glandular bodies called testes. This fluid is con- 
 veyed through a long winding tube passing from the 
 testes into the belly to the seminal vesicles, where it is 
 collected, either generally or occasionally, and whence 
 it is, during coition, poured into the urethra. The se- 
 minal fluid is then the essential agent, and the testes 
 the essential organs of generation ; but there are other 
 fluids which doubtless have their use in this function. 
 These are prepared by the prostate gland that surrounds 
 the neck of the urinary bladder, by two small glandular 
 bodies situated within the urethra, and called, from their 
 discoverer, Cowper's glands, and probably from the 
 seminal vesicles. 
 
 The testes are of a flattened, oval form, smooth and 
 regular on their flat surfaces, and on one extremity, but 
 rendered unequal at the other extremity, and at one side, 
 by an irregular convoluted body, called efiididymis. They 
 are of a grayish or yellowish colour, and a pretty firm 
 consistence. They are situated within the bag called 
 scrotum, in such a manner, that their atlantal extremi- 
 ties project a little stemad, while their sacral extremi- 
 ties point a little dorsad. They are separated from each 
 other by a doubling of the cellular substance within the 
 scrotum, and they are each inveloped in distinct mem- 
 branes. The most peripheral of these membranes is 
 a doubling from the peritoneum that lines the belly, into 
 which cavity it may be readily traced. This is called 
 the vaginal coat [tunica vaginalis). It adheres closely 
 to the next meinbrane of the testis, only in a line on
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 82i 
 
 the dorsal side, being in every otlier part perfectly free, 
 and so roomy, that the testis can easily nu.ve wiiiiiii it. 
 Tlie next mcnibrane appears, in tiie aduil, to be only a 
 reflection Irom tlie precedinj^, over tne booy ot tlie testis, 
 like tne peripheral coat ol the heart relleeted Iroin tlie 
 periearuium; though, as will be presently explained, it 
 was originally lornied by a separate and very distant por- 
 tion ot Vac Jurituncuin. It is thiek, strong, inelastic, and 
 ot a shining white colour, and closely invests the body 
 of the testis, giving it a smooth and regular appearance. 
 It also invests the epitlidymis, closely connecting it 
 witn the body of the testis, except in one part, where it 
 often passes between them. This coat is called tunica 
 atbuginca. 
 
 The substance of the testes is extremely vascular, 
 and is composed partly of ramifications of arteries and 
 veins, and partly of numerous small tubes, in which the 
 seminal fluid is contained. The extreme branches of 
 the arteries are collected within the body of the testes, 
 into little tortuous bundles, separated from each other 
 by partitions of cellular sulistance, and extcndhig in a 
 radiated form from the dorsal line to which the vaginal 
 coat is fixed, /iirijiherad towards the tunica albugi?ica. 
 The seminiferous tubes take their origin from these 
 bundles of arterial branches, and gradually form a num- 
 ber of distinct canals, which, emerging from the body of 
 the testis near its atlanlal extremity, unite in a larger 
 tube that becomes extremely convoluted, and forms 
 what is called the head of the epididymis. The whole 
 of this irregular projecting body is merely a continuation 
 of the common seminal canal, which, running sacrad 
 along the edge of the testis, is reflected near the sacral 
 extremity of that body, and forms what is called the vas 
 def(rf7is. 
 
 This continuation of the seminal tube now expands, 
 and becomes nearly straight, till it emerges from the 
 scrotum, and enters the pelvis, when it takes a curved 
 direction across the side of the urinary bladder, and 
 passing along the dorsal part of this receptacle, termi- 
 nates at its neck, between the seminal vesicle and the 
 prostate gland. 
 
 The testes are well supplied with arteries, nerves, 
 and absorbents. Their arteries are called spermatic; 
 they come ofl" from the sternal side of the aorta,At a very 
 acute angle, a little above the origin of the inferior me- 
 senteric artery (see Plate XIX. Fig. 10. N.); and they 
 run in a very serpentine direction, till they enter the 
 body of the testis. The spermatic veins are very large 
 and form a plexus that is closely connected to the arte- 
 ries. The spermatic artery and vein on each side are 
 intimately connected by cellular substance, both with 
 each other, and within the pelvis with the vas chfercns, 
 thus forming a cord of considerable size, called the sper- 
 matic cord. Along this cord run the nervous filaments 
 that supply the testis and the absorbent vessels that ori- 
 ginate in that gland. Tiie spermatic cord passes through 
 the ring of the external oblique muscle of the alidomcn, 
 and is covered by fleshy fiiires that form what is called 
 the crcmas'er muscle of the testes. This muscle, be- 
 sides being connected with the peripheral surface of 
 the spermatic cord, near the body of the testis, is at- 
 tached to the sk'n of the scrotum and to the central 
 surface of that tendinous expansion from the external 
 eblii;ue muscle that forms the sternal h.order of the 
 abdominal ring, and is called the crural arch, or Pou- 
 part's ligament; thus serving both to supjjort the tes- 
 tis, and, by the contraction of its fibres, to raise it allantad. 
 
 The scrotum, or bag that contains the testes, is merely 
 a cominuaiion ol the common integumems, dilfering 
 from them only in the looseness of its texture, and in 
 the redness and filjrous appearance oi the cellular mem- 
 brane tlial forms its central surface. On its peripheral 
 surface, in the direction of the mesial line, there is a 
 sliglit elevation of the skin, called raphe, extending to- 
 wards the anus, across that part of the integuments 
 called perineum. 
 
 The organs called seminal venicles are united at their 
 sacral ana sternal extremities, where they join the neck 
 of the bladder, but gradually diverge as they proceed 
 dorsad and utluniad, on the sides of that receptacle. 
 They are membranous cavities, formeil each of a very 
 convoluted tube, that has several irregular processes, 
 and is surrounded by much tough cellular substance. 
 Within this cellular membrane appears the proper coat 
 of the vesicles, which is white and linn, and lined by a 
 fine membrane, which appears to be a continuation of 
 the mucous membrane that lines the vas defrrens and 
 the urethra, and is reflected into numerous folds. This 
 membrane is provided with mucous follicles that secrete 
 the usual mucous fluid. The cavities of the two semi- 
 nal vesicles are separated from each other at the neck 
 of the bladder by a small projection called ixri^/Hon/a- 
 num, ov caput galtinaginis; and on each side of this pro- 
 jection is a tube that forms a canal leading from the 
 seminal vesicles and vas dtjerens, and opening into the 
 commencement ot the urethra at the sacral and dorsal 
 part of the neck of the bladder. 
 
 It is generally supposed that the seminal vesicles 
 serve as reservoirs for the fluid secreted by the testes, 
 though it was the opinion of the late Mr John Hunter, 
 that they perform some more active office in the animal 
 economy. 
 
 The prostate gland is usually about as large as an 
 ordinary ehesnut, of a red colour, firm consistence, and 
 cellular structure. It is composed chiefly of two lobes, 
 situated principally on tlie lateral and dorsal parts of the 
 neck of the bladder, thus forming a conical body, con- 
 vex sacrad -Mid dursad, and flattened atlanfad, so that a 
 horizontal section of it may properly be compared to 
 the figure of a heart on playing cards. The peripheral 
 surface of the prostate gland is generally smooth, being 
 covered with a membrane derived chiefly from the cel- 
 lular substance, but towards the sternal extremity arc 
 inserted the fibres of what is called the sphincter vesiclx. 
 The interior of the gland is cellular, and is provided 
 with numerous follicles that secrete a mucous fluid, 
 which is conveyed intotlie urethra by ten ortwelve ducts, 
 opening obliquely near the termination of those canals 
 which we have described as coming from the seminal 
 vesicles and vasa de/crentia. 
 
 The penis is composed principally of membranous 
 cells, collected into three distinct bodies, called cavern- 
 ous bodies, [corpora cavei-nosa,) with a membranous 
 tube running along the dorsal or under side, and called 
 urethra. One of the spongy bodies surrounds this mem- 
 branous canal, and at the dis'nl extremity of the penis, 
 expands into what is aMcd ihe glans pcrJs. This col- 
 lection of cells is called by anatomists corpus spongiosum, 
 urethrs. The others form the sides and sternal or up- 
 per part of the penis, and are called corpora cavcrno.^a 
 penis. Each of these spongy bodies is separated from 
 the rest by a distinct inveloping membrane, so that it is 
 possible to fill the cells of the spongy cavernous bodies 
 of the penis, while those of the uretlira remain empty,
 
 824 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 and vice versa. The cor/iora cavernosa fienis are divi- 
 ded from each other by a membranous panition, ruii- 
 niiifj longitudinally through the middle of the penis, as 
 far as the root oi the glaiis; but this partition is said 
 not to afford .i complete separation between the cor/iora 
 cavernosa, which therefore communicate wilii each other 
 at this part. See Fyle's Coin/ufidium q/' ^Jnatomij, 3d 
 edit. vol. ii. p. 235. The cavernous bodies of the penis, 
 arise by two conical extremities called crura, from the 
 mesial side of the isc/iia and /ut/iis, and are connected 
 with these bones by ligaments. They unite at the sa- 
 cral part of the si/m/i/njsis/iubis.* 
 
 The penis is supplied with three principal arteries 
 on each side, coming from the pudic arteries. Its 
 veins are numerous, and most of them terminate in one 
 large trunk, called the great or dorsal vein of tlie penis, 
 which runs along the sternal side of that organ, in a 
 groove between the two cavernous bodies. The penis 
 is furnished with large nerves, and has numerous lym- 
 phatics. 
 
 There are two muscles belonging to this organ, one 
 on each side, attached to the membrane that covers the 
 cavernous bodies near their union, and to the mesial 
 side of the tutierosity of the ischium. These are called 
 e}-ecto7-cs /leni.v, because when they contract, they press 
 on the cells of the cavernous bodies, and thus favour the 
 distension of that organ. 
 
 The membranous canal, called urethra, runs from the 
 neck of the bladdci to the distal extremity of the penis. 
 It is nearly cylindrical in its different parts, though it 
 is not of the same diameter through its whole extent. 
 It is largest at about an inch distad from the prostate 
 gland, where there is also an enlargement of its peri- 
 pheral spongy part, constituting what is called the bulb 
 of the urethra. There is another dilatation at the pros- 
 tate gland, and a third near the root of the glans fienis. 
 The rest of the canal is about as large as an ordinary 
 goose quill. Between the prostate gland and the prox- 
 imal part of the bulb, the urethra is entirely membra- 
 nous, being surrounded only by loose cellular substance, 
 but the remainder of the canal is surrounded by the 
 spongy body. Along the middle of the peripheral sur- 
 face of the bulb there is a tendinous line, from which 
 numerous muscular fibres run obliquely towards the 
 sfthincter ani and crura of the cavernous bodies of the 
 penis. These fibres form too small muscles which are 
 the acccleratorcs urinjs, or ejaculatores seniinis of anato- 
 mical writers. 
 
 The central part of this canal is lined by a very vas- 
 cular and sensible mucous membrane, between which 
 and the spongy body of the urethra there are several 
 longitudinal cavities, called lacuns, opening within the 
 urethra, and serving as excretory ducts to the mucus 
 with which this canal is moistened. Dr Barclay has 
 lately observed a number of cells running longitudinally, 
 but rather in a serpentine direction, between the mem- 
 brane and the spongy body, so as to have the appearance 
 
 of irregular vessels, or canals, which seem to commu- 
 nicate laterally, and might be filled with air or mercury 
 from the orifices of the lacunx. — See Jidin. Med. and 
 Surg. Jour. vol. i. p. 403. 
 
 We have mentioned numerous ducts opening into the 
 urethra at its orighi, within the neck of the bladder, viz. 
 two from the seminal vesicles and vasa dcferentia, and 
 ten or twelve from the prostate gland. Besides these 
 there are usually other ducts opening into the bulb of 
 this canal, and comuig from two small bodies of a glan- 
 dular structure, situated at the distal extremity of the 
 bulb, on the sides of tlie peripheral surface of the mem- 
 branous part of the urethra, and called, from their dis- 
 coverer, Coivfier's glands. 
 
 Many important changes take place in the reproduc- 
 tive organs of man during his progress through life. 
 This is particularly the case with the testes ; the situa- 
 tion and relations of which are very different in the foetus, 
 from those of the same organs after birth. 
 
 From the time when they are first perceived till about 
 the eighth month of pregnancy, the testes of the foetus 
 are lodged within the belly, one in each lumbar region, 
 a little sacrad of the kidneys, and resting on the ftsoie 
 muscles by the sides of the rcclum. Here they are 
 closely enveloped by that doubling of the peritoneum, 
 which is to become their future tunica albuginea. Be- 
 tween the testes, in this situation, and that part of the 
 scrotum to which the cremaster muscle is attached, 
 there extends, on each side, a ligamentous cellular and 
 vascular cord, of a conical form, called by Mr John 
 Hunter the gubernaculum, or ligament of the testes. 
 At this period the two cavities of the scrotum, in which 
 the testes are to be lodged, are separated from the cavity 
 of the pelvis by portions of the peritoneum, that just dip 
 within the cavities of the scrotum. 
 
 Generally about the eighth month of pregnancy, or a 
 few weeks previous to parturition, the testes begin to 
 change their situation, and to pass very gradually sa- 
 crad towards the scrotum. t The manner in which this 
 passage of the testes takes place, is not yet perfectly 
 understood, though it has attracted the attention of some 
 of the ablest anatomists and physiologists of modern 
 times. In particular, the investigations of Haller, John 
 Hunter, Camper, and Wrisberg, have contributed to 
 improve our knowledge of this singular phenomenon in 
 the animal economy ; but their investigations have done 
 little more than explain to us the exact situation of the 
 testes, and their connection with the neighbouring parts 
 at different periods of their passage. Mr Hunter sup- 
 posed, that the principal agent in promoting the pas- 
 sage of the testes into the scrotum is the conical cord, 
 which he therefore called gubernaculum, or helm ; but 
 it does not appear that the action of these bodies could 
 bring the testes further than to the abdominal ring. 
 
 As the testes advatice through the abdominal rings 
 into the scrotum, they push before them those doublings 
 of the peritoneum, which we described as dipping widrin 
 
 * In conformity to the method of most anatomists, we h.ave desciibed the cavernous bodies of the penis, and the spongy body of the 
 urethra, as composed of cells communicating' with each other. It is generally believed that these cells lie between the extremities of 
 the arteries and those of the veins; but M. Cuvier contends tliat tlie cellular appearance is not real, and that the spOngy texture of the 
 penis is owing to the numerous and free inosculations of the blood-vessels, especially of the veins. See Lecom J' Anatomic Compare'e, 
 torn. v. p. 70. 
 
 -j- This passaffe of the testes into the scrotum is commonly called their descent, as the testes are said to descend into the scrotum 
 at about the eighth month of pregnancy. The term descent is here peculiarly inapplicable ; for it is well known, that the position of 
 the foetus varies considerably, and, in general, especially at the time when the descent of the testes is said to take place, its head is the 
 niost depending part.
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 825 
 
 the scrotal cavities ; and Uicsc cloubliiigs now become 
 the vaginal coats of the testes. When the testes IJrst 
 pass into the scrotum, tliere is an opening left between 
 tlie cavity of the vaginal coat and that of tlie pelvis. 
 Hence it may, and sometimes does happen, tluit a por- 
 tion of the intestines slips through the abdonunal ring 
 into the scrotum along with tlie testes, forming that 
 
 Skct. II. Of the lu-inuU Orgaii.t of Ui/ircduction. 
 
 The mo-t important female organs are the vagina, the 
 uterus, with its tubes, and the ovaiies. 
 
 The vagina extends from the sacral part ofnhc arch 
 of the l)ubis (hrmd and allantad within llic pelvis ; bt- 
 _ ,^ t^t^cn the urinary bladder and the rectum, with each of 
 
 iiiodiheationof hernia or rupture, called congruital. Soon which it is connected by cellular substance. Its diame- 
 alter the testes have passed into the scrotum, however, tcr is variable, but it is a little longer on its sacro-d'jraat 
 a firm adhesion generally takes place between the vagi- t''at on its atlanto-sltrnal part. This canal is composed 
 nal and albugineous coats, thus oljliterating the coimitu- chiefiy of a thick mucous membrane, which, from its 
 nication between the belly and scrotum. numerous folds, admits of great dilatation, and is provi- 
 
 We have described the passage of the testes into the ^Itd with a considerable number of mucous glands, or 
 scrotum as usually taking place about the eighth month follicles, furnishing the fluid that lubricates its central 
 of pregnancy. In some eases, however, they have been surface. Near the sacru-atirnal orifice of the -vagina, 
 found within the scrotum so early as the third or fourth this canal is surrounded on each side by a very vascular 
 month ; and it not unfrequently happens, that they do or cellular te,\iure, commonly called the cavernous body 
 not descend till some months, or even years, after birth, of the vagina. 
 
 This is said to be very common among the inhabitants 
 of Hungary. (Roux in Bichat's Anatomic Descrifit. torn. 
 V. p. 233.) Sometimes only one enters the scrotum, 
 and, in a lew rare cases, they remain altogether within 
 the belly. 
 
 Previous to the age of puberty, most of the male or- 
 gans are small, and receive much less blood than is 
 distributed to them after that period. In particular, the 
 
 The exterior opening of the vagina forms the fiuden- 
 dum mulicbrc of anatomists, composed of the two peri- 
 pheral or external labia, two central or internal labia, 
 commonly called nyw/i/ue, and the clitoris. This last 
 body nearly resembles, both in shape and structure, the 
 male penis, but is seldom more than about an inch long, 
 and scarcely half an inch in thickness. 
 
 Sacrad of the glans of the clitoris, and between the 
 
 seminal vesicles are remarkably small and lank, and two nymphae, is the external orifice of the female urc- 
 
 ihe prostate gland is soft and flaccid. In old age the thra, which diflfers from that of man, in being shorter, 
 
 testes are much diminished in size, and are much less straighter, and of larger diameter, and not haviu"- with- 
 
 firm than before. On the contrary, the seminal vesi- in its cavity the orifices described in the male urethra, 
 
 cles and the prostate gland usually become hard, and The uterus is a cavity of a triangular form, situated 
 
 sometimes cartilaginous, though their secreting office in the sacral part of the pelvis, between the body of the 
 
 is also diminished. urinary bladder and the rectum, and connected witli 
 
 In noticing the morbid appearances of the male organs, these by cellular substance. Its sides are very thick, 
 
 we shall confine ourselves chiefly to those which have and extremely vascular. It is generally divided, like 
 
 been observed in the testes, the seminal vesicles, the the urinary bladder, into fundus, body, and neck ; the 
 
 prostate gland, and the urethra. fundus being its most atlantal part, its neck nearly the 
 
 The testes have been seen in a state of active inflam- most sacral part, and the body lying between these. The 
 
 mation, ulcerated, or even gangrenous; they have been sacral extrenuty of the uterus projects more or less 
 
 found enlarged, affected with scirrhus and cancer, of a within the cavity of the -cagina, and terminates in a 
 
 soft pulpy consistence, or hardened into cartilaginous, transverse opening, called the mouth of the uterus, and, 
 
 or sometimes even bony substance. Water has not from a fantastical comparison with the mouth of a tench, 
 
 unfrequently accumulated between the testis and its denominated, by anatomists, os tincce. 
 
 vaginal coal, forming that modification of dropsy called The size of the uterus varies in different subjects, 
 
 hydrocele. Sometimes the vaginal coat has been found especially before and after child-bearing. Before im- 
 
 to contain hydatids, sometimes an adhesion is found to pregnation, it is generally described as being between 
 
 have taken place between the vaginal and albugineous two and three inches ui length, and about two inches at 
 
 coats, and not unfrequently cartilaginous bodies have its broadest part, or fundus. At its neck it is scarcely 
 
 been seen, either loose within the vaginal coat, or at- an inch across, but from this part to the mouth it becomes 
 
 tached to the albuginea. The xias drfrens has been broader. Its cavity, before impregnation, is remarkably 
 
 found contracted by stricture, or having some part of its small, being described as scarcely capable of containing 
 
 cavity entirely obliterated. ~ ' ' " "" ^^ '' ' ■■ - > r • -, 
 
 The seminal vesicles have been found inflamed, scro- 
 
 fulous, or scirrhous. They have been seen remaikably 
 small, and sometimes one of them has been entirely 
 wanting. Their ducts are sometimes impervious. 
 
 The prostate gland is often found enlarged and 
 scirrhous, and it has been seen in a slate of ulceration. 
 
 a hazel nut. Hence the thickness of its sides must be 
 very great. These are said to be above half an inch 
 thick at the neck, but rather tbinner towards the fun- 
 dus. The sides of the uterus are very firm and com- 
 pact, partly composed of membranous cells, partly of 
 numerous ramifications of blood vessels, and partly of 
 muscular fibres. It is lined bv a continuation of the 
 
 Its ducts are sometimes found enlarged, and sometimes mucous membrane that invests the cavity of the vac-ina; 
 
 obstructed by calculous concretions. and, as in that cavitv, the membrane is reflected into 
 
 The urethra is frequently found inflamed, sometimes numerous folds, that run in an oblique, transverse di- 
 ulcerated, and very commonly contracted by a stricture rection, and have between their doublings many mucous 
 of its mucous membrane. Sometimes stony concretions follicles of various sizes. The peripheral surface of 
 are found within the canal, and in a few cases this has the uterus, next the cavity of the pelvis, is almost en- 
 been seen lined bv a layer of earthy matter. tirely covered by the fitritovcum, which is reflected 
 
 Vol.. I. Part II. 5 M
 
 826 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 from the steniul side of llir; uiciiis over the dorsal side 
 of tlie urinary bladder; and from the dorsal part of the 
 uterus over the allantal pari of tlie rectum. From the 
 lateral parts of the uterus two considerable reflections 
 of the same memlirane pass to tlic sides of tlie pelvis, 
 and from their great breadth, and the oflice they serve, 
 of supporting tlie utrrun in the impregnated state, are 
 called the broad ligaments of the uterus. 
 
 Thus the uterus is intimately connected vi'ith all the 
 neighbouring parts; to the urinary bladder, rectum, and 
 sides of the pelvis, by the /u-rit'jntum, and to the vagina 
 by its neck, which is surrounded by the vagina, so as to 
 leave a concave circular space at the attanto-drjrsal ex- 
 tremity of the vagina. The uterus is also further sup- 
 ported by two strong ligantentous and vascular cords, 
 resembling in some respects the spermatic cords in 
 man, that pass from the atlantal corners of the uterus, 
 obliquely sacrad, to be inserted into the groins. These 
 are called the round ligaments of the uterus. These 
 round ligaments are largest next xhc fundus of the ute- 
 rus, and grow gradually smaller as they approach the 
 groins. They run for some distance between the dou- 
 blings of the broad ligaments. 
 
 On each side of the fundus of the uterus, and at the 
 distance of about an inch from it, within a doubling of 
 the broad ligament, lies an oval body, called ovary {ova- 
 rium). These bodies are nearly straight on their atlan- 
 tal edge, rounded on their sacral side, (Fyfe's Comjien- 
 dium, vol. ii. p. 247,) and flattened sternad and dorsad. 
 They are usually about half the size of the male testes, 
 and, like them, are covered by a coat reflected from the 
 peritoneal membrane, in which they are enveloped. 
 They are connected to the fundus of the uterus by two 
 small solid cords, called the round ligaments of the ova- 
 ries. Examined centrally, these bodies are found to be 
 composed of a loose cellular substance, intermixed with 
 nerves and vessels, and containing within it a number 
 of little vesicles, compared to eggs, and therefore called 
 ova. These vesicles are usually about as large as a 
 small pea, and are filled with a whitish glairy fluid, 
 similar to the white of egg. These are supposed to be 
 the embryos of foetuses. Their number varies greatly 
 in difTcrent individuals ; sometimes there are not more 
 than ten, and at others above fifteen have been counted 
 in each ovary. 
 
 Within the cavity of the uterus, at the atlantal angles, 
 are observed two orifices, so small as only to admit a 
 hog's bristle. These orifices lead to two membranous 
 tubes, one on each side of the fundus of the uterus. 
 These are the uterine, or, as they are called, the Fallo- 
 pian tubes. They are of a conical form, being smallest 
 next the uterus, and gradually expanding as they ex- 
 tend along the atlantal margins of the broad ligaments. 
 They pass over the ovaries, and their remote extremi- 
 ties are so situated, that, on certain occasions, they can 
 grasp those bodies, and receive into their cavities the 
 ova that are detached from them. At these remote ex- 
 tremities, the diameter of the tubes nearly equals that 
 of a goose quill, and here they expand into a number of 
 fringes, called fmbriie, which are longer on one side of 
 the tube than on the other. These fringed extremities, 
 in the ordinary state of the uterine system, are supposed 
 to float loosely within the pelvis; but when an ovum is 
 to be extruded from the ovary, they are believed to ap- 
 ply themselves closely to the surface of the ovary, and 
 thus assist the passage of the ovum into the uterine 
 
 tube, along which it is conveyed through the small ori- 
 fices above noticed, into the cavity of the uterus. 
 
 The tubes are of a spongy structure, much convoluted 
 towards their larger extremities, and susceptible of con- 
 siderable dilatation. Their central surface is lined by 
 a continuation of the mucous membrane of the uterus, 
 furnished, as in the rest of these organs, with nume- 
 rous folds. Here, however, the folds are chiefly in a 
 longitudinal direction. 
 
 The uterus and its appendages are supplied with ar- 
 teries from the hypogastrics and spermatics. Their 
 veins are large and tortuous. Large nervous filaments 
 go to these organs from the sacral nerves and the great 
 sympathetics, and numerous absorbents of considerable 
 size may be traced from them to the lumbar glands, 
 and to those which are situated in the lateral parts of 
 the pelvis. 
 
 The female reproductive organs, like those of the 
 male, experience various important changes during the 
 successive periods of life. In infancy and childhood, 
 the more important organs are small, and deeply con- 
 cealed among their membranes at the bottom of the pel- 
 vis. The external orifice of the vagina is nearly closed 
 by a membrane called the hymen, which is generally 
 supposed to remain as long as a female continues in 
 the virgin state. The ovaries are remarkable, previous 
 to the age of puberty, for their long and narrow form, 
 and for the smoothness of their peripheral surface. The 
 age of puberty is accompanied by important changes in 
 the female as well as the male organs. Those within 
 the pelvis, in particular, become more developed ; the 
 uterus rises higher within that cavity, and its vessels 
 receive more blood ; the ovaries contract in length, be- 
 come plumper and irregular on their peripheral sur- 
 face, from the increased size of the ova contained within 
 them. 
 
 As old age advances, the internal organs shrivel, as 
 they now receive much less blood than at former pe- 
 riods. The ovaries, in particular, are reduced to little 
 more than half their former size, and their vesicles 
 either entirely disappear, or are changed into hard tu- 
 bercles. 
 
 The changes that take place in these organs, in con- 
 sequence of conception, scarcely come within the plan 
 of the present article. They will be described under 
 Midwifery. 
 
 We shall mention only the more important morbid 
 appearances that take place in the female organs. In a 
 few instances, children are born with no appearance of 
 external organs. In these cases the children are females, 
 only the labia have grown together, and thus the en- 
 trance of the vagina is concealed. A remarkable in- 
 stance of this nature exists at present in Edinburgh. 
 The vagina is sometimes found ulcerated ; and it is 
 said, that, in consequence of violent inflammation, the 
 sides of its mucous membrane have grown together. 
 Not unfrequently the cavity of the vagina is found ob- 
 structed by scirrhus tumours. The whole cavity has 
 been found inverted. 
 
 The uterus has been seen inflamed, ulcerated, and 
 enlarged, in consequence of scirrhus ; its cavity has been 
 contracted by tubercles, polypus, stony, bony, or earthy- 
 concretions, or in consequence of stricture. Sometimes 
 its opening into the vagina is entirely obliterated. The 
 cavity of the uterus has been seen enlarged, filled with 
 water, or with hydatids, or containing a dead foetus. It
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 827 
 
 is occasionally found rctrovertcd, or turned back, be- 
 tween the vagina and the rectum, and not uiilVcciucntly it 
 has been scon ruptured. 
 
 The ovaries arc sometimes found inflamed, sometimes 
 scirrhus and enlarged. They have been seen dropsical, 
 and, occasionally, hair, teeth, and other marks of im- 
 perfect impregiiation have been detected in them. 
 Sometimes even a perfect foetus has been found within 
 a membranous cavity, into which the uvahmn has been 
 expanded. >Jow and then there is only one ovarium ; 
 and cases have been related in which both were want- 
 ing. 
 
 The uterine tubes are sometimes seen in a state of 
 inflammation, or adhering, in consequence of inflam- 
 mation, to the neighbouring parts. Sometimes they 
 are dropsical. In a few cases they have been found im- 
 pervious, and now and then they are seen dilated, and 
 containing an impregnated ovum, and even a complete 
 foetus. 
 
 The anatomy of the gravid uterus, and the develop- 
 ment of the foetus, will be considered in the article Mid- 
 wifery. 
 
 The female breasts, or mamma, are secreting glands, 
 though, unlike the other organs of that nature, they per- 
 form the office of secretion only occasionally. They are 
 situated between the common integuments of the ster- 
 no-lateral parts of the thorax and the pectoral muscles, 
 to the sternal surface of which they are attached, by 
 loose, fatty, cellular substance. In the centre of their 
 peripheral surface stands the nipple, which is composed 
 partly of a ligamentous substance, surrounding a num- 
 ber of convoluted tubes, which open at the point of the 
 nipple. Round the nipple there is a circular ring, cover- 
 ed, like the nipple, with a soft, delicate cuticle, differ- 
 ing in colour from that which covers the neighbouring 
 skin. This is called the areola of the breast. On the 
 surface of this areola are seen several little perforated 
 eminences, which are the excretory ducts of small glands 
 that lie round the base of the nipple, and secrete a fatty 
 fluid. 
 
 The principal part of the breasts is made up partly of 
 fatty cellular substance, and partly of several glandular 
 bodies, that are collected first into smaller, and then 
 greater lobes, with cellular substance lying between 
 them. These glandular lobes are extremely vascular, 
 and are well supplied with nerves and absorbents ; but 
 their principal part consists of a great number of small 
 tubes, which appear to take their origin from the extre- 
 mities of the arteries, and, gradually uniting into trunks, 
 pass from each lobe in a radiated manner towards the 
 base of the nipple. These are called the lactiferous 
 ducts, because in them the secretion of the milk appears 
 to take place. From their origin to the base of the 
 nipple, these tubes are accompanied with fibres of a 
 tough, elastic substance. When they reach the nipple, 
 they are usually coiled up in a spiral form, though easily 
 distended, when the nipple is drawn outward, as by the 
 lips of the child. The number of lactiferous tubes that 
 enter the nipple is variable, but generally from twelve to 
 eighteen may be counted, opening round the point of the 
 nipple. When they reach the nipple, they appear to be 
 quite distinct from each other, though some anatomists 
 have supposed that they form a circle of communication 
 around the nipple. 
 
 The arteries of the breasts come partly from the in- 
 tercostal, and partly from the superficial mammary arte- 
 ries ; and the nerves are derived, partly from the axil- 
 
 laiy plexus, and partly from the great sympathctics. 
 The absorbents are numerous, and most of tliem pass 
 to tlie axillary glands. 
 
 lieforc the age of puberty, the female breasts, like 
 those of the male, are liitic more than cutaneous tuber- 
 cles ; the nii)ples are flat, and the areola of a florid red 
 colour. In cliildren of both sexes, for some days after 
 birlh, the breasts are much swelled, and very commonly 
 contain a milky fluid; but as this is gradually absorbed, 
 they accjuire the flatness just described. At tlic period 
 ol puberty, the breasts become plump, the nipples pro- 
 minent, and the areola less florid, liut as old age ap- 
 proaches, and the fat, that always forms a principal part 
 of their substance, is absorbed, these organs become 
 small, flabby, and in those women who have borne many 
 children, commonly pendulous. 
 
 The breasts are subject to most of the diseases that 
 affect other secreting glands ; but the morbid appear- 
 ance most conmionly observed in these organs is, that 
 scirrhous hardness, or peculiar slate of virulent ulcera- 
 tion which forms the distinguishing character of cancer. 
 See Surgery. 
 
 Human milk differs from that of the cow, in being of 
 a thinner consistence, and a bluish colour, though it con- 
 tains a greater quantity of oily matter, and is of a nmch 
 sweeter taste. The creamy part cannot be converted 
 into butter by churning; but if, after being agitated for 
 some hours, it be suffered to remain at rest for a day or 
 two, there is separated from it a thick, white, unctuous 
 fluid, which floats on the surface of a watery liquor. 
 Human milk is also not susceptible of coagulation by 
 the usual methods employed to coagulate cow's milk, 
 though it is certain that it contains curd as part of its 
 composition. Hence it appears, that the milk of a wo- 
 man is distinguished from that of a cow, chiefly by three 
 circumstances ; 1. Its oily part cannot be separated from 
 the curd contained in the cream ; 2. Its serous part con- 
 tains much less curd ; and, 3. The whole fluid contains 
 more sugar of milk. 
 
 Such of our readers as, from their professional avoca- 
 tions, require more particular information respecting 
 the subjects of this chapter, may consult De Graaf's 
 Tractatus de Virorum Organis Generationi, and de Mu- 
 lierum Organis Generationi Inservientihus ; Winslow's 
 Traite d'A)iatomie ; Albini Annotaiiones Academicx, lib. 
 iv. ; Monro's Dissertatiu Inuuguralis de Testibus in -cariis 
 Animalibus, Edin. 1755. ; Haller's Icones Atiatomicm, and 
 Ojiera Minora, tom. 1.; Hunter, On some parts of the 
 Animal Economy i Bichat's Anatomic Descri/itiz'C, torn. 
 v. ; (by Roux ;) Portal's Anatomic Medicak, tom. v. ; 
 Bell's Anatomy, vol.iv. ; Fyfe's Comfiendium of Anatomy, 
 vol. ii. ; and Moreau's Histoire jVatiirelle de la Fcmme. 
 
 In the view which we have now taken of the structure 
 of the human body, we have adopted an arrangement 
 which differs, in some respects, from that of any anato- 
 mical work with which we are acquainted, though, in the 
 general principles of our arrangement, and in the titles 
 of our subdivisions, we have followed nearly the Lemons 
 d' Anatomic Comfiaree of Cuvier, the Principes de Physi- 
 ologic of Dumas, and the Anatomic Descriptive of Xavier 
 Bichat. We feel the necessity of explaining our mo- 
 tives for thus deviating from the beaten track of anato- 
 mical description, and conducting our readers into a 
 new, though not untrodden path. 
 
 In the usual elementary treatises on anatomy, the 
 subject is divided into seven parts, corresponding with 
 5 M 2
 
 328 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 the method according to which the earlier anatomists 
 thought proper to divide the liunian body. Tlius, as 
 the body was said to be made up of bonea, ligamcnls, 
 ■muscU-s., -viscera, vessels, nerves, and glands, tlie science 
 of anatomy was divided hito Osteology, treating ot tlie 
 bones and cartilages; SvndesmologyjoI the hgaments; 
 Myology, ol the muscles; biM.ANCHNOLOGY,of ihe vis- 
 cera; Angeiology, of the vessels; Neurology, of the 
 nerves; and Adenology, of the glands. In tliis way, 
 however, several pans of the body must have been either 
 omitted, or described among those with which tliey have 
 very little connexion. Anatomists preferred the lesser 
 of the two evils; and accordingly we find the integu- 
 ments, and the organs of the senses, external as well as 
 hitcrnal, described among the viscera. Again, by this 
 division, parts which have an intimate connexion with 
 each other, in office or situation, or both, are separated 
 to a considerable distance. Thus, the heart is described 
 in one division of the subject, the blood-vessels hi 
 another; the gullet is separated from the stomaca ; the 
 pancreas from the salivary glands ; while the teeth are 
 disjoined from the other masticating organs, and, along 
 with the small bones of the ear, are described among the 
 oi-gans of support and motion in the skeleton. Tnus, 
 the uses of the parts arc overlooked in a servile attention 
 to similarity of structure. 
 
 We allow, that in teaching anatomy by lectures and 
 demonstrations on the dead body, it is scarcely possible 
 to avoid such an arrangement as we are here disapprov- 
 ing. There, it is of advantage to describe, first the 
 skeleton, or the bones, and their appendages; then the 
 muscles, the nerves, the blood-vessels, lymphatics, then 
 the several viscera, and, lastly, the integuments ; and, 
 accordingly, this is the order which we have followed 
 in the general description of the human body, given in 
 our introduction. Indeed, were the lecturer to aim at 
 demonstrating the organs, according to the functions 
 which they are destined to perform, he must have a 
 much greater number of dead bodies, than even the 
 most favoured professor in a populous city can generally 
 command. But however well adapted such a division 
 may be to anatomical lectures and demonstrations, it is 
 by no means calculated for a general reader. He looks 
 for something more than a mere description of the ex- 
 ternal forms, relative situations, and internal structure 
 of organs. He desires to see how the several organs 
 stand related to each other in their office ; how they 
 contribute to the carrying on of any particular function. 
 For this purpose, he must follow an arrangement in which 
 the organs are disposed, not according to their relative si- 
 tuation, or similarity of structure, but according to the or- 
 ganic functions which they perform in the living body. 
 
 At a time, when the uses of the organs were as yet 
 involved in obscurity, they might be distributed into re- 
 gions; but, in the present day, when we are acquainted 
 with the object of most of their actions ; when descrip- 
 tive anatomy is little more than the first step towards 
 the study of the animal functions, it is according to 
 these functions, that we ought to arrange the organs 
 by which they are performed. In this way, the student 
 finds in his anatomical divisions an introduction to phy- 
 siology ; he is accustomed, if we may be allowed the 
 expression, to consider the organs in action, and not to 
 contemplate merely inert insulated bodies, the study of 
 ■which, in the usual method, is as tiresome to the mind 
 
 as disgusting to the senses. See Bichat's Preliminary 
 Discourse to his Anatomie DescriJUivc. 
 
 liesidcs accommodating our view of anatomy to mo- 
 dern pnysiology, we were desirous of arranging the or- 
 gans ot the human body, so as to admit of tlic general 
 comparison wun lliose of the inferior animals, which we 
 are to give in the subsequent part. Our first object has 
 been to describe all those organs which belong indiffer- 
 ently to either sex, or which are subservient to what Bi- 
 cliat calls the functions of animal and of organic life, 
 and then to consider those which distinguish the sexes, 
 or are subservient to the function of reproduction. The 
 functions common to both sexes are those ot Motion, 
 Sensation, Digestion, Absorption, Circulation, 
 REsriuATioN, including Voice, and secretion; and 
 in tins order we should, in a physiological point of view, 
 have arranged them ; but, for reasons which we assign- 
 ed in the beginning of the fourth chapter, it appeared 
 necessary to treat of the organs of circulation before 
 those of absorption. 
 
 As some of the integuments could not properly be con- 
 sidered under any of the preceding functions, we have 
 adopted a term introduced into a treatise on physiology, 
 by one of the ablest anatomists of the present day, viz. 
 Integumation, to express the office of those mem- 
 branes. See Chap. VIII. Soemmering, in his work 
 De Corporis Humani Fabrica, has followed a similar 
 method calling that part of Anatomy which treats of the 
 integuments, Dermatologia. 
 
 As the functions of motion, sensation, and digestion 
 seem to be the most generally diffused of those which 
 belong indifferently to either sex, we have placed the or- 
 gans by which these functions are performed in the first 
 rank, thus following the arrangement of Cuvier. 
 
 Such are the general principles on which the arrange- 
 ment of the present article has been founded. We are 
 aware, that several objections may be made to it. In 
 particular, it may be alleged, that as many of the or- 
 gans are not confined to a single function, it is necessaiy 
 to treat of the same organ in several parts of the trea- 
 tise ; a repetition which might be avoided, by adopting 
 the more natural arrangement of the organs, according 
 to their situation. Thus the tongue is at once an organ 
 of sensation, of deglutition, and of speech ; the skin an 
 organ of sensation, of excretion, and integumation, &c. 
 We reply, that in these cases repetition may be avoided, 
 by describing the organ under that function which seems 
 most important, or to which the organ in question ap- 
 pears more peculiarly subservient. It has been well ob- 
 served by Bichat, that nature does not confine herself 
 to any rigorous division, but unites different functions 
 in the same organ, and that, in adopting any particular 
 classification, we must almost always meet with some 
 exceptions. See Anat. Descrifi. tom. ii. p. 563. 
 
 In the course of the preceding pages, we have made 
 frequent references to what we conceived to be the best 
 works, on the particular subjects of which we have treat- 
 ed ; but it may be expected that we should point out to 
 the student, the best systematic works on Human Anato- 
 my ; and, as these have not been mentioned in the gene- 
 ral introduction, we shall enumerate them here. 
 
 The best foreign systems of anatomy with which we 
 are acquainted, are Winslow's Traite d' Anatomie, pub- 
 lished originally in French, translated into Latin by a 
 German student, and into English by Douglas ; Leber's
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 829 
 
 Prxlcctlones Aiialoiiiica, published in Latin at Vienna, 
 in 177S, and at Edinburgh, in 1790, and translated into 
 English, with the addition of Physiological remarks, by 
 Ur Vaughan, in 1791; Sabatier's Ti-aite d' Anatomif, 
 publishecl first in two volumes, and again (in 1781) in 
 three volumes, 8vo; Soemmering's woik On the Struc- 
 ture of the Human Bodij, published originally in German, 
 and again in Latin, in five volumes, 8vo, 1794; Bichat's 
 Anatomie Generate, and Anaiomie Descri/itive, forming to- 
 gether a complete view of anatomy, according to the 
 authors's peculiar system, in nine volumes 8vo; and 
 Portal's Anatomie Aledicale, in five volumes 8vo. 
 
 We have few original elementary treatises on Anato- 
 my in this country. Among the best are Cheselden's 
 Anatomy of the Human Body, which has gone through 
 numerous editions, and is still a useful compendium ; 
 Bell's Anatomy, in four volumes 8vo, the first of which 
 was published in 1794, and the last in 1804; and Fyfe's 
 
 Com/iendium of Anatomy, which has been published in 
 several forms, viz. in tiiree volumes 4lo, with nume- 
 rous coloured plates, in 1800; in two volumes 12mo, 
 without plates, in the same year; and in three volumes 
 8vo, with several engravings (chiefly uncoloured) in 
 1807. 
 
 On the Morbid Anatomy of the human body, we have 
 the Se/iulcretum Anatomicum of Boiietus, the Hiatoria 
 Anatomico-Medica of Lieulaud, the classical work of 
 Morgagni, De Scdibus et Caunin M'jrboruin, a translation 
 of which last into English was published by Alexander, 
 in 1769; and Voigtel's Hundbuch der I'athologincheu 
 Anatomie; and, in English, the Morbid Anatomy, witli 
 plates, by Dr Baillic, and tlie commencement of a work 
 on The Seats and Causen of Diaea-srs, illustrated by the 
 cases and dissections of Morgagni, by Professor Hamil- 
 ton of Edinburgh. The sequel of this work is anxiously 
 expected by the public, [f) 
 
 END OF HUMAN AN^VTOMY.
 
 L
 
 GENERAL EXPLANATION 
 
 OF THE 
 
 PLATES BELONGING TO VOLUME FIRST 
 
 OF THE 
 
 AMERICAN EDITION 
 
 OF THE 
 
 NEW EDINBURGH ENCYCLOPAEDIA. 
 
 PLATE I. 
 
 Fig. 1. An Abacus or Arithmetical Machine, invented 
 by M. Perrault, for performing addition, subtrac- 
 tion and multiplication. 
 
 Fig. 2, 3. Figures to illustrate the aberration of the Fixed 
 Stars. 
 
 Fig. 4. A Lens, elliptical on one side, and circular on the 
 other, which refracts parallel rays without any 
 spherical aberration. 
 
 Fig. 5. A Lens, hyperbolical on one side, and plane on the 
 other, which refracts parallel rays without any 
 spherical aberration. 
 
 Fig. 6. Apparatus, showing that vibration is the cause of 
 sound. 
 
 Fig. 7. Illustrates the partial transmission and reflection 
 of an undulation in passing thi'ough media of dif- 
 ferent elasticity. 
 
 PLATE II. 
 
 Fig. 1. If A B C be the initial form of a string vibrating 
 between the points A, C, it will, after a single 
 vibration, have the form ADC. 
 
 Fig. 2. Form assumed by a musical string when vibra- 
 ting between the fixed points A, F, and sounding 
 harmonics. 
 
 Fig. 3. A, B, C, D, F the form of a string vibrating be- 
 tween the points A, F, producing its fundamen- 
 tal sound along with its harmonics. 
 
 Fig. 4. The paths described by any point in a string, 
 giving out its harmonics, and fundamental sound. 
 
 Fig. 5, 6, 7, 8, 9. The Figures assumed by sand when 
 strewed on Plates vibrating laterally. 
 
 Fig. 10. Kratzenstein's pipes for sounding the vowels A, 
 E, I, O, U. 
 
 Fig. U. The speaking trumpet. 
 
 Fig. 12. Section of the speaking trumpet. 
 
 Fig. 13. Mouthpiece for sounding the vowels A, E, O, and 
 U, in Kratzenstein's pipes. 
 
 PLATE III. 
 
 Fig. 1. Aeronautic Vessel, with copper balls exhausted 
 of their air proposed by Lana for traversing the 
 air. 
 
 Fig. 2. Montgolfier's Rarefied Air Balloon, in vrhich M. 
 Pilatre de Rozier and the Marquis d'Arlandes per- 
 formed the first aerial voyage. 
 
 Fig. 3. The Balloon in which Blanchard ascended from 
 Paris. 
 
 Fig. 4. Inflammable Air Balloon, in which M. Charles and 
 Messrs Roberts ascended. 
 
 Fig. 5. One of the 24 gores of which a balloon is com- 
 posed. 
 
 PLATE IV. 
 
 Fig. 1. The mode of filling balloons with inflammable air. 
 
 Fig. 2. Garncrin's parachute, wlien expanded. 
 
 Fig. 3. The same parachute, when shut. 
 
 Fig. 4. Diagram for finding the accidental colours of any 
 primary colour. 
 
 Fig. 5. Diagram, showing the manner in which the aber- 
 ration of colour is corrected in a triple achromatic 
 object .^''.ass. 
 
 Fig. 6. Diagram, showing how the aberration of colour 
 is corrected in an eyepiece of two glasses. 
 
 PLATE V. 
 
 Fig. 1,2, 5, 4,5,6,7. Represent the various Parts of the 
 Rotherhamor Dutch Plough, which was introdu- 
 ced into Scotland in 1730. 
 
 Fig. 8. Represents the Plough as improved by Mr Small. 
 
 Fig. 9, 10, A light Plough constructed on the same Prin- 
 ciples as the Rotherham Plough, for cleaning 
 Beans, Potatoes and Turnips, 
 
 PLATE VL 
 
 Fig. 1 to 10 inclusive, are Diagrams for constructing the 
 Plough-ear with the least possible Resistance, 
 invented by Mr President Jefferson. 
 
 Fig. 11. Drawing of the New Plough, improved by Mr 
 James Vcitch of Inchbonny. 
 
 Fig. 12. A Drill for sowing any Kind of Grain in Seven 
 Rows. 
 
 PLATE VII. 
 
 Contains Figures of various Drills for sowing all Kinds 
 of Grain and Seeds. 
 
 PLATE VIIL 
 
 Contains a View of the Machine for reaping Corn, in- 
 vented by Mr Gladstones of Castle-Douglas. 
 
 PLATE IX. 
 
 Fig. 1. A Thrashing Machine, erected at Chillingham. 
 
 Fig. 2. An ancient Sarcophagus, deposited in the British 
 Museum, and supposed to be the Tomb of Alexan- 
 der the Great. 
 
 PLATE IX.— No. 2. 
 
 Diagrams illustrating the Application of Algebra to 
 Geometi-y.
 
 EXPLANATION OF PLATES. 
 
 PLATE X. 
 
 Exhibits the most ancieiit Forms of Alphabets. 
 
 PLATE XL 
 Represents a great Variety of ancient Alphabets. 
 
 PLATE XIL 
 
 Contains various Specimens of Oriental Alphabets, which 
 seem to be foundecl on liic Sanscrit. 
 
 Fig. 
 Fig. 
 
 Fig. 
 Fig. 
 Fig. 
 
 Fig, 
 Fig 
 Fig 
 
 Fig. 
 
 Fig, 
 
 PLATE XIIL 
 
 I. A Longitudinal Section of the Thigh Bone. 
 
 2. One of the Bones of a Fostns, showing the manner 
 in which the Bones grow. 
 
 3. A front View of the Human Skeleton, 
 
 4. A back View of the Skeleton. 
 
 5. An enlarged Outline of the Bones of the Hand. 
 
 6. An enlarged Outline of the Bones of the Ankle 
 and Foot. 
 
 PLATE XIV. 
 
 1. A View of the Shoulder Joint. 
 
 2. A front View of the Knee Joint. 
 
 3. A View of the Diaphragm, on the side next the 
 Bowels. 
 
 4. A View of the Muscles, when the Body is in the 
 posture of Sleeping. 
 
 5. 6. Two Views of the Larynx. 
 
 PLATE XV. 
 
 \ front and back View of the external Muscles of the 
 Fluman Body. 
 
 PLATE XVL 
 
 Fig. 1. The appearance of the Muscles of a Man leaning 
 upon a staff, and about to make a leap. 
 
 Fig. 2. The appearance of the Muscles of a Man, writh- 
 ing his whole Body from extreme Pain. 
 
 PLATE XVIL 
 
 The appearance of the Muscles of a Man, wringing a 
 Cloth with all his Strength. 
 
 PLATE XVin. 
 
 Fig. l.A vertical Section of the Head, showing the 
 skull, the Cavity of the Nostrils, the Roof of the 
 Mouth, and the Fauces. 
 
 Fig. 2. A horizontal Section of the Brain. 
 
 Fig. 3. The appearance of the Base of the Encephalon, 
 without the Blood-vessels, Sec. 
 
 Fig. 4. The same, with the Blood-vessels and the Ori- 
 gins of the cranial Nerves on the left side. 
 
 Fig. 5. A view of the Laminae of the Integuments in a 
 Negro who died of the Small-Pox. 
 
 Fig. 6. The arrangement of the Pores of the Skin, in the 
 Corners of Angular Figures. 
 
 Fig. 7. A View of the Papillje of the Skin, on the Point 
 of the Fore Finger. 
 
 Fig. 8 The Back of the Mouth, the hanging Palate, and 
 the opening into the Fauces. 
 
 PLATE XIX. 
 
 Fig. L A bicuspidated Tooth of the lower Jaw, with one 
 Fang. 
 
 Fig. 2. A bicuspidated Tooth of the upper Jaw, witli two 
 Fangs. 
 
 Fig. 3, 4, 5. Different Grinders. 
 
 Fig. 6, 7, A vertical Section of the Teeth, a, the inter- 
 nal Cavity, b, the bony Part, c, the F'ibres of the 
 Enamel. 
 
 Fig. 8. Contains part of the Upper and Lower Jaw of a 
 Child about eight years old, to show the Progress 
 of Ossification in the teeth. 
 
 Fig. 9. Represents a front \'iew of the Contents of the 
 Chest and Belly. 
 
 Fig. 10. Represents several of the Viscera, which arc 
 invisible in the preceding Figure. 
 
 Fig. 1 1. Contains a vertical section of the contents of the 
 
 Chest and Belly- 
 Fig. 12. Shows the Jtjunum, a part of the small Intes- 
 tines of a Person, who had died soon after eating, 
 when the Lacteals were distended. 
 
 PLATE XX. 
 
 Represents the Absorbent Vessels, the Skin and the 
 sternal Parts of the Chest being supposed trans- 
 parent. See Anatomy, chap. v. p. 800. 
 
 PLATE XXI. 
 
 Fig. 1. Represents the principal Arteries and veins of 
 the Face, with its Muscles. 
 
 Fig. 2. Shows the principal superficial Blood-vessels arid 
 Muscles on the palmar Aspect of the Right Ann 
 and Hand. 
 
 Fig. 3. Exhibits an anterior View of the principal Mus- 
 cles and Blood-vessels of the Right Thigh. 
 
 Fig. 4. Represents the principal Muscles and Blood- 
 vessels of the Fore Part of the Leg and Back of 
 the Foot. 
 
 PLATE XXII 
 
 Fig 1. Represents the Cavity of the Tympanum kid 
 open, in order to show the natural Situation and 
 Connexion of the small Bones of the internal car. 
 
 Fig. 2. Exhibits a View of the central Cavity and wind- 
 ing passages of the Labyrinth. 
 
 Fig. 3. Shows an enlarged View of the small bones of the 
 Ear, within the Cavity of the Tympanum. 
 
 Fig. 4. Represents the manner in which the acoustic or 
 auditory Nerves are distributed through the Ca- 
 vities of the semicircular Canals. 
 
 Fig. 5. Exhibits the Distribution of that Part of the au- 
 ditory Nerve which supplies the Passage of the 
 Cochlea. 
 
 Fig. 6. Is a front View of the Eye, to show the lachiy- 
 nial Passages, lachrymal Caruncle, and sebaceous 
 Glands. 
 
 Fig. 7. Is a View of the left Eye-ball in its Orbit, to 
 show the Disposition and Insertion of the Nerves 
 and Muscles. 
 
 Fig. 8.1s an enlarged vertical Section of the Eye-ball 
 and its Appendages in their relative Situation. 
 
 END OF VOLUME FIRST.
 
 A n Kll II A^TI O N 
 
 ACOUSTrCS 
 
 St 
 
 K ^ 
 
 /'/. i /■/-• / 
 
 Abbrkatiov 
 
 ABEKKATTON
 
 A C O L' S T r c s . 
 
 i'/..iij-: J/. 
 
 />,/. / 
 
 /y.g. 
 
 /c<l I. 
 
 ri,i.5^ 
 
 f/lj. fi. 
 
 />,/,-. 
 
 
 V^//^' 
 
 /»/. .9 
 
 fiifS 
 
 fiif. /o. 
 
 
 /■ill // 
 
 /"icj. /s. 
 
 Tittctu ,i-JS^.
 
 AEIII)NA1:T1CS 
 
 I'L.'ITK IV. 
 
 Al HKOMA TH i) 11.1 KCT-(. LANS 
 
 J.Bcydfc.
 
 4
 
 A«- 11." I f r 11/11" II' 1-' i-;- 
 
 /'i.r/vc /.' 

 
 AGRICITLTLTRE, 
 
 /'/..///.• ;//
 
 AoiiK'ii/ri'HH 
 
 KKAriNf. MACIIIM' 
 
 I'L.ri !■: v/ii 
 
 /Lae-J!.^ i'^.r
 
 
 I'l.A-rr. 
 
 TOMis OF ii.jc K .1 xdj: i{ lilt: mtf-.ir 
 
 Tirhout tC^^dSe.
 
 ALC. K 15 K A. 
 
 I> 11 
 
 1 o K r 
 
 Fi,r 0\ 
 
 c It
 
 ALrj!iAj?i'-:'r, 
 
 rUK MOST ANCIENI- FOIi.MS (.;•■ ALi'JI Al', K T S . 
 
 rLA/K X 
 
 1 M'-JilTT£2r /-ROM H/CJ/T TO 
 
 ■i-i^-i'T. |. H /mni.s J- HUM /.4;rrTi> J{ic:ii 
 
 . 
 
 P/ivaurytm 
 
 rt..' found 
 
 £(U-ttilan JStiu^am 
 
 Gree/c *[' Orrdc 
 
 jLafiFi 
 
 Hiutic Onl/iie 1 rtvt»/>f '/'riilomc 
 
 1 A 
 
 1 
 
 X 
 
 r 
 
 A ( 
 
 ^ ' A A 
 
 A 
 
 > ^ JA ^ 
 
 2 B 
 
 ^ 9 
 
 ^ 
 
 J 
 
 :? .>! 
 
 B 
 
 B 
 
 B J6 £L 'Ki 
 
 'J C 
 
 7 
 
 ^ 
 
 7 
 
 1 n r 
 
 C 
 
 *M^ r c r 
 
 4 D 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 y 
 
 fT A z^ 
 
 D 
 
 ^^ '^ Z) ^ 
 
 > K 
 
 r^ 
 
 7. J' 
 
 i 
 
 3 3 
 
 £ 
 
 E 
 
 -K C ^. "^ 
 
 6 l\ 
 
 Fi 
 
 1 
 
 V 
 
 
 / 
 
 8 (r- ^Y 
 
 r 
 
 A .' 
 
 7 I 
 
 ■ / 
 
 2 ^ 
 
 J 
 
 ) ' ^ f 
 
 1 
 
 1 / / [ 
 
 « K 
 
 y 
 
 y 
 
 ^ 
 
 3 A 
 
 K 
 
 K 
 
 ^^ < ^ if 
 
 M I. 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ A A 
 
 C A 
 
 v^ J /; L A 
 
 1 
 
 X 
 
 r A A. A\. 
 
 10 M 
 
 ^ 
 
 i/ 7 
 
 :i 
 
 M ^ -^ r-i 
 
 M 
 
 T i-^ <Ju f?,^ 
 
 11 ^NT 
 
 ) 
 
 ) -ii 
 
 y 
 
 ^ A 
 
 ^ M 
 
 W 
 
 r ^ jl i.r X 
 
 12 O 
 
 u 
 
 r^ 
 
 O ; ^ O 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 ^ \ n. V. D (c; 
 
 1.5 P 
 
 
 F=i 
 
 y 
 
 -1 7 
 
 r n 
 
 p 
 
 /^^r n ^ ^ii 
 
 14 R 
 
 1 
 
 fl 
 
 q 
 
 Q 
 
 ^ ^ i 
 
 P K 
 
 ^ 
 
 R K p n 
 
 1.1 S 
 
 {yi 
 
 v/ 
 
 / 
 
 2 h 
 
 w, r 
 
 s 
 
 "l rf ^ Z 
 
 1(.- T 
 
 h 
 
 X^ 
 
 X 
 
 ^ T 
 
 f r 
 
 T 
 
 ^ T + </^ 
 
 9 >^ 
 
 "D 
 
 yD 
 
 1 
 
 ? 
 
 
 t a'^<^ 9; ^ 
 
 ""\ 
 
 
 4 ^=^ cr>-r> ^ 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 si 
 
 
 ^ ^ cq Q W 
 
 H u q 
 
 ^ ^ !» < H Pi '•/^. E^ 
 
 <i 
 
 fP ^ 
 
 .OH4^:«<HtsipiV2^ 
 
 ^ .,...^»-
 
 1
 
 Alphabet. 
 
 DlFFi:i{KNT ANCIENT ALPHABKTS. 
 
 J 'I.. I IE XI. 
 
 J'rmir. 
 
 A. \ 
 
 B '■ ^ 
 
 Gil <r 
 
 D 4 
 
 Pelasi/ntn. Oscan. jtrnuiian. ^iicaaUO'iU/ic. /'/ki/iuiu/i .L'ldJ/cltnii- fiSumiiritiui. Ouural £tru4ciMA^>/uttii/ 
 
 9 ;) n (^ 
 
 ; 3 a: ! a 
 cii » 
 c > 
 
 V 
 
 z 
 
 II 
 
 Th 
 
 I 
 K 
 
 ^ 3 ^ 
 
 D 
 
 
 f3 B 
 
 'ok >; 
 
 1) 
 
 9 
 
 □ 
 
 Q 
 
 >7 
 
 
 / ^ff 
 
 J. 
 
 IX 
 
 M 
 
 ^ 
 
 T^ 
 
 o 
 
 S 
 
 ^ n 
 
 o 
 
 oC 
 
 p 
 
 A 
 
 Ts 
 
 prr 
 
 B. : ^ 5 ^ <) I 
 
 2 7; 
 
 Schj 
 T 
 V 
 
 /1H ^ 
 
 ^ .-....!„...__ CrK^M yz >a$9^^l'^3^ 
 
 f ^ / v/ V p 8 
 
 6> <9 
 I \ 
 
 141 ■ 
 
 1 1 
 
 a Q 
 f I 
 J 
 
 h 
 
 I 
 C 
 
 F 1 ^ i frji'i 
 
 K K Til <^ ^ bt j? <> V. ^ J ( V / M ) '' ( I 
 
 y 1, 
 
 J v/ ^ v/ V ^. A , 
 
 
 N 
 
 A^ O i o Oo M "^ 3 '^ ^ ^ "f 7 ^'^' 
 
 P 
 
 s 
 
 I -^.c2. 
 
 ^ ^ 
 
 
 p P o C^ (£ U O (7 «^ C> o o 
 
 Ph J OatFOOG? 
 
 
 ...... ^2 T f TTTs' mJ ^ r- '-5-5^^3 ^^ 5Qc5^c:i9 
 
 Y il T ^^^'V^1/rX^o-^'«-^
 
 i
 
 ALrilABRT. 
 
 SPEC I Mi: Ns or okikntax a i.i- i i. \ in; ts. 
 
 T/n lid.m- ,;f//t,).s/ ,'/' f/i,.,; .t;,/ii.i- /,•/>, ///, A,f//.(,YV/. 
 ylLA. OF THEM ylKA- HA'/TTAW J./Kt: r//£ A r /i f) /'A .1 \ AJtO.V/ AAFT TO ll/(. 
 
 /'/..I7JJ J// 
 
 //T 
 
 
 ,//.,•.■«//■ 
 
 FIa 
 t I 
 
 I i \.,<r ^Ri /,'„,, 
 I I ^ . I " ■■■"""•/'"■'■ 
 
 I £ Lri /ctu/ 
 ^ E /t'ltif I ■/• Ai 
 
 . jn "' 3 o 
 
 I jH »v 3 Ou fv All 
 
 3J! Ah A 41 s/'iriiii-d 
 3> Ka 
 
 *^ K ha ,//- C h;i 
 
 JT Oa 
 5J c: ha 
 
 t3 Cha r/- Tsha 
 
 Si Ch -ha i "'" "•'/" 
 
 ' 3 Jha I '*"■, a^pmt ■ 
 ^ .N).i 
 
 ,3T-1,:1 j^— /'"■" 
 
 tn Na 
 7\ Ta 
 
 y '"•'■» I wT"" 
 
 :q I'a 
 
 1 to/ r 
 
 < I re,/ D 
 
 2J ^•a 
 
 ■? Ifa 
 
 ava 
 
 71 S, a 
 tj Sba 
 
 iq S.. 
 
 ^ lla 
 9 Kshj 
 
 ^ A 
 "ti A /,'//// 
 (^. 
 
 CTT E 
 
 <o^ O 
 '^ /<v,,, 
 
 Si Ka • 
 
 i "^ 
 % Nya 
 
 O'ST) ' Na 
 ^ Ta 
 "3 Na 
 
 I I Pa ,./-Ba 
 
 LD Ma 
 
 Ll_l Y:\ 
 
 T Ua . 
 
 Co La 
 
 62j V a 
 
 4PRUa{f--f 
 
 Bmanler .t/ii/i,if>,f 
 
 McJIn llir/lr„„i,„.,'i 11,1, 
 ifill /'i-t tyri/iti,/ ,y,/ff.iirt/. 
 
 J^-a 
 
 
 .^ lira « .<irrii,/K I c-(, Lo 
 ^ Bo 
 
 ^ mo 
 
 ^ Ri /„»./ 
 
 ^/ 111 a/.T/ 
 
 V D .M,vr 
 f' I..v*,vr 
 
 1^2 O tijfivatfrf 
 yi Ong- />!,■ rlas„7 O 
 
 ^-^ r ,u-tYtirt'i{ 
 
 o o /"//*/ 
 
 J, E lontf 
 
 "?? Li ,./;,'rf 
 d tho 
 
 e to 
 
 03 Vvn 
 ^7 Z\m 
 
 Sj^ sho 
 
 ^ so 
 
 , SI /vv/ G 
 jV g-o 
 
 <e ko 
 
 f Lho ( ^-"ji/"-' . 
 
 '=r I'o 
 
 ? No 
 
 y dho I the asnmi ■ 
 , ( Ifd \i 
 
 H do 
 i) tho 
 V5 to 
 rnr auo 
 6' lUio 
 ^5' do 
 ^ihio 
 <lho 
 =) , 
 <9 -CI 
 
 ri I 
 
 3^ Vo 
 
 T 
 
 I,.:,,/ m : 7i//i/li/,/ .///i/l,//>,/ 
 
 //.. , ,//„ M. 
 /,,//ll,l., Ill A'/li/irt. 
 
 ho 
 
 C751 Na «W,// N 
 
 ^■'tf^wi i*r<,/uuil JV,u, 
 
 9 A 
 
 ^ A /<'//</ 
 
 yi I 
 
 9? u 
 
 '31 u /,v/^ 
 
 33 E /«// 
 
 ©i3d:) .\u/hn 
 
 "^ Ao 
 Sd Am 
 
 f~0 Ka 
 5 k ha 
 O ga 
 ^>Jg-ha 
 C iiga 
 cha 
 2^>9 ch-ha 
 
 C p,va 
 
 5 ta 
 O t-ha 
 
 5 da 
 ■y &-\.^ 
 OlO na 
 OO ta 
 
 CO t-ha 
 
 3 -la 
 
 V^ r d-ha 
 
 Q 1 
 '^ I 
 
 h ) 
 
 '-^ «pa 
 O* p-ha 
 t^ ba 
 OO b-lia 
 V^* Ola 
 UO va 
 
 "1 I la 
 % \ 
 CO la 
 30 Sa 
 O VVfa 
 eOha 
 
 &" 
 
 5? A 
 
 ,Ci? A., •/„,•, 
 
 C:f A /, «,/ 
 
 sii ■ 
 
 ^:4> I' Av/y 
 tX>i \\\xj/lort. 
 
 <i>0 1.11 
 
 eJ E 
 
 aD Ai 
 2j O 
 ^ Aoa 
 ^°A„ 
 
 6fSAii 
 
 f Ka 
 ! ob K-ha 
 ?< Ga 
 f^ G-Jia 
 &^ Nga 
 ^ Tsha 
 1* Tsha 
 ^y .la 
 ^ .1 Jla 
 
 \lT 
 
 : fST T-lia 
 
 G Da 
 
 '^ n ha 
 
 f~D Na 
 
 ^ Ta 
 j 4^ T-ha 
 ' (3 Da 
 
 *? 1) lia 
 
 f Na 
 <2 Pa 
 
 V P-ia 
 ^ Ba 
 
 V Bha 
 ■VJ Ma 
 O-SC Ya 
 iS Ka 
 
 k> La 
 5^ Va 
 •a Sha 
 ■^ Zha 
 ■<^ Sa 
 tr> Ha 
 'U' La 
 
 ^\ Ksha 
 
 tfjttf Ift .*fter,if/i.irt*,f 
 
 p 
 
 ' Ka /.-//,/ 
 'HKa' 
 J Ng;a 
 A Tshaj-c// 
 OT Tsha ,tfri*n4/ 
 £. Tshaa 
 y Nya 
 S Ta 
 
 <3 Ta .ffrt'ft4/ 
 ^ T:ui 
 <f Va 
 'J 1-a 
 
 ■il Pa ^trotnf 
 ^ Paa 
 >*>! Ma 
 O Tsa 
 "3 Tsa s/reruf 
 ^ Tsaa 
 ^ Wa 
 ^.la 
 
 J Sa 
 ^A 
 
 Ui^a 
 
 -^ lia 
 'U La 
 
 V Sa 
 i Ha 
 lAlA 
 =^ I 
 -V K 
 
 V O 
 
 OTJ A Ajrty 
 
 '?y 111,/,..,/ 
 
 6TI L.i 
 
 evLf.) i.M /,„„ 
 
 ^^ 
 <o2/q Ai 
 
 1 *n*l An 
 
 Tdjo 
 
 |o Ah 
 
 ^ f/u At/ft 
 
 r 
 
 ^ Ka 
 C^ K ha 
 J? Ga 
 Pi f G ha 
 5^ Vj.a 
 _a_/ Tslia 
 
 ?i> la 
 
 S^ Vva 
 
 V Ta" 
 
 \U T-lia 1 ^„,^,/ T 
 
 23 Da 
 
 20 l> ha 
 
 I 5 Ta 
 ^-OT-'u{^;,:J'f 
 ^ Da 
 
 'D-lia 
 
 / *'//' tut 
 \ rii/ftf I 
 
 /^ Va 
 
 a . I'a 
 
 ? 
 
 ' /j 11 l.„ ^ tt^i'tra 
 .If 11 lia|^^,;„ 
 
 >'a 
 
 11 C.i 
 
 O I.., 
 
 S_, \a 
 
 VA3 Sha 
 jj^ /lia 
 
 £j~0 Sa 
 <SJ5 Ha 
 (?»»_ LLt 
 'Sai Ksha
 
 ANA'IM)M V 
 
 l'j..ri I. Mil 
 
 fit/. 4 .
 
 UNIVERSITV OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped IkIow. 
 
 m' ^2z 
 
 '%ni 
 
 Form L9-75m-7,'61(C1437s4)444
 
 ■!•' 
 
 mm$m\iiii!^iiim 
 
 ■IPil