■■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, . 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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. 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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, ..... 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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-(. 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